#Yes there are way more pressing issues (I keep seeing the police and fire station scanner reports) but AH

[cassandralexxx]

just saw a picture of the midtown bars without power… we used to be a people.

[90stvshowgoth]

—BREAKING & ENTERING

—ch.1 —ch.2

summary: after dabi was seen leaving your apartment complex last week, the commission has sent a lesser known hero to help guard the building until new cameras are installed. however, no security measures in the world could keep dabi out.

w/c: 5064

tags: dubcon, cuckolding, creampie, voyeurism, humiliation, exhibitionism, arson

a/n: this is the final chapter to this little duology, and the reason why its so much shorter is because the first one was really supposed to stand on its own, but i got so many requests for a sequel i couldn’t help it. so i just took the kinks i didn’t get to use last time and pay off some setup and voila. however, just ‘cause this is the last chapter of this story doesn’t mean i’m not gonna write a fuck ton of other stuff for him. ily burn man. plus i’m working on a huge, multi-chapter fic for him while i post smaller one-shots >:) that being said, enjoy.

The impact Dabi left on your life was far bigger than you thought it would’ve been on the night you snuck him away from the law. As he was running from the cops someone saw him climb through your window, and a different person also saw him climb down the fire escape. With witnesses like that, the other tenants were downright furious.

You almost felt bad for the landlord, it wasn’t his fault you were insane enough to willingly let a villain come inside both you and your apartment.

Your landlord and the police department came up with a solution. The apartment complex would be installing new state-of-the-art locks on all fire-escape adjacent windows free of charge. This wasn’t exactly an issue with seeing Dabi again, since all you had to do was purposefully leave yours unlocked.

It would take two weeks to install all the cameras, but until then, a community-assigned hero would be stationed to guard the complex.

His name was Kao, a middle-ranked hero with bright orange hair and a winning smile framed with dimples. At first you thought he might’ve been one of the better heroes, waving you off to work and walking you there the other day, but recently he’d begun to creep you out. The friendly conversations about a tv show you both enjoyed began to turn into invasive questions about your love life.

A week of lingering glances and uncomfortable prying culminated that Friday as he had flat out asked you to dinner moments prior.

“C’mon, I just— I said that wrong, lemme try again,” He stuttered, keeping pace with you as you marched towards the building.

“No, Kao, look, you’re cool and all, but I’m really not looking to date anyone right now.” You huffed, striding into the doorway and towards the elevator. That might not’ve been the whole truth but you obviously couldn’t tell him that you had the hots for a terrorist.

He groaned, rubbing the back of his neck, “Well you just got off work, right? I remember which room you stay in, maybe I can swing by tonight?”

You whirled on him, your jaw slack in shock at the insensitivity of his words. The reminder that he knew where you lived sending a shiver down your spine, “Kao, this conversation is done. I don’t want you following me around anymore, hero,”

Deep down, your words sounded familiar. If they were raspier and said behind a thin veil of indifference, you might’ve realized that you were talking like Dabi.

“What is that supposed to mean? We’re the good guys!” You slammed your fist down on the close-door button, your mouth a thin line, daring Kao to make a move and stop the doors. He didn’t, and soon the reassuring pull of the elevator set your shaking body at ease.

‘Who does he think he is?’ You were bitter, rightfully so, you think.

You were so frustrated that you had difficulty inserting your keys into the lock, twisting it with a growl and throwing open the door, ready to collapse onto your pillow and vent to whoever was online about your heroic stalker.

When you noticed the scent of cigarettes in the air.

“Hey, doll,” Warmth surged through your chest at the sight of him, the villain’s feet kicked up onto the coffee table.

You were hanging your coat on the hook before moving beside him to the couch, “What took you so long?”

“Not happy to see me? You seem a lot bitchier than I remember,” The crude edge of his humor was a breath of fresh air compared to the stifling niceties of work, and you smiled for what felt like the first time that day.

Shaking your head, you toed out of your boots and made your way to the frayed couch, “I’ll tell you all about him,”

That got his attention, “Him?”

“A hero,” Dabi’s frown worsened, an accusatory look in his eyes, “before you ask, no, you idiot, I hate this guy, there’s not a chance I’d sleep with him.”

The tensity in his shoulders relaxed, bring the half-finished Newport to his lips as you continued, “Since you broke in last week all my neighbors lost their shit. They threatened to sue if my landlord didn’t assign a hero to watch the building for a bit. I thought he was cool, but I’ve just decided that he’s a total prick.”

He hummed, nodding understandingly, “Want me to kill him?”

You gaped, hitting him on the chest, “Wha—No, Dabi, what the hell?”

He just shrugged, the intensity of his words almost funny to you, and as you recounted the last twenty minutes the ashes of Dabi’s cigarette fell to the floor. The dying lights of the sun streamed through your window, the smoke oddly beautiful in the glow as he handed you the last hit of his cheap cigar.

“You know why heroes are like that?” You shook your head, enjoying the numbing calm of tobacco, “It’s cause they’re spoiled. They go their entire lives being praised for everything they do so they don’t know how to take no for a fuckin’ answer,”

Apparently your smoking buddy was feeling talkative, much to your delight. His words made you pause, remembering the relieved faces of your neighbors whenever they’d see the gaudy costume Kao wore as he strode by.

“Shit... guess you’re right,” You mumbled into his side, not minding the ever-present aroma of burnt skin and smoke that clung to Dabi’s coat.

He scoffed, “I’m always right, baby,” His words earning him a pinch on the arm.

“No, you ass, just about the hero stuff,” He grinned, the staples on his dimples taut against his skin as he pulled you closer, his breath hot against your ear.

“Careful, doll, you’re starting to sound like a villain,” The drop in your stomach sent heat down your skin, yet somehow you were still shivering under his predatory gaze.

You shook your head, trying to will away the red that dusted your cheeks, “No way, my quirk isn’t strong enough to be a villain,”

He raised his eyebrow expectantly, broadly gesturing for you to go on.

“Well...” God, why is this embarrassing? “I can give people headaches.”

You didn’t know if he would laugh at you or belittle you for your meaningless quirk, but he did neither.

“Think you could practice it more? Get better at it?” He was serious, staring at you and expecting an answer.

You looked away, unable to hold his gaze, “I mean, maybe? It’s not hard to do, I guess,”

Dabi smirked, pulling you onto his lap. It felt as if the week hadn’t happened at all and you were right back where you started, your face flushing at the memories of that night. He dragged you close, eyes dark as he whispered something into your ear...

“Think you could split someone’s head open with a migraine?”

Your gut wrenched, flinching at the gory idea and making you sit up in Dabi’s lap. The atmosphere in the room hadn’t changed, his stare as menacing as before.

That is, until he started to crack up. Louder than you’d ever heard before, his fit filled the apartment until he had to cup his stomach from laughing too hard; the wheeze in his rough throat echoing around the room as your blush spread all the way down your neck.

“Oh, you asshole!” If anything, your shove against his chest only made him more giddy. The panic-fueled adrenaline was still surging through your body, unwillingly making the wetness between your thighs spread, even as you tried to wrap your head around the fact that Dabi had been fucking with you.

Your legs shook as he held on to you for balance, his cackling dying down but the shit-eating grin never leaving his face, “You were so freaked out, huh?”

“Yeah, no shit!”

He hummed, running a hand through your hair and suddenly yanking you forward, basking in the sharp yelp it brought from you, “You’re cute when you’re scared,”

You’d missed the way his scabbed lips felt on yours more than you’d ever admit. There was something about him that left you breathless, eager and questioning your life choices. Groaning into his mouth before pulling back and laving your slick tongue along his disfigured lower lip, you rolled your aching heat against him to force a truly pornographic moan from his mouth.

“Oh, fuck—” One of his hands slid down your back, grabbing your ass through your jeans, “Fucking hell, you missed me that much?”

You nodded dumbly into his shoulder, pressing chaste kisses along the ragged skin as he slid his finger past the band of your jeans, cupping your dripping sex with wide eyes.

“Goddamn, s’no way you’re this wet for me already,” His eyes were scrutinizing, trying to figure out why you were hiding into his neck, “What’s got you so worked up, doll?”

You couldn’t come up with a good excuse in time, Dabi thinking back to how your thighs had tightened up when he asked if you could kill someone, your eyes were frightened back then, yes, but there was something else. Something you wouldn’t tell him.

When the realization hit him, it hit hard.

“Holy shit, you get off on being scared?” He couldn’t believe his luck, the embarrassed groan you buried into his shoulder confirming his suspicions.

Dabi ran a hand through his hair, a childish wonder over his features, “Aren’t I fuckin’ lucky?” He sneered, pulling you back til you were at eye-level again.

“I’m gonna try something, baby,” there was an edge to his voice as he settled one hand on the small of your back, pressing your tits against his chest as he held your bra strap back with the other.

“What are you… Dabi, what are you doing?” The scent of fire and burning fabric filled the air, the ends of your bralette smoking between his fingertips, embers turning to ash and sprinkling down the couch until it was flimsy enough for Dabi to rip free, teeth sinking into your neck as he held you still to keep your skin safe.

It was jarring and a bit terrifying to be restrained against someone like Dabi without knowing his intentions. But nothing in you could deny the blinding rush of pleasure it ripped down your spine.

“It’s all starting to make sense, doll-face, I guess I was right the first time,” His hands tossed the smoking bra into hallway, reaching between you and torturously pinching and pulling on the rosy blush of your tits, “you do have a thing for villains,”

“Can’t wait to fuck that tight pussy again, doll,” Without warning he shoved your torso forward, your body bouncing against the couch, his hands flying to the button of your jeans.

“—Didn’t have time to take you right last time, didn’t get to taste you,” his words made you whimper in his grasp, keeping your legs somewhat raised as tugged down the tight denim.

You fully expected him to take you rough like before, make you choke on his cock before having his fill, but as he tugged off your black panties he crawled down the trembling body beneath him, slowly moving over your ribs, your stomach, and finally your drooling cunt.

He never broke eye contact with you as he pulled your thighs closer, keeping them spread wide as the hot fan of his breath on your pussy sent a thrill through your neglected nerves.

“I want you to scream my name,” It was an order, not a request. The unhinged tremor in his hands was unsettling, an unspoken threat hanging in the air.

Dabi’s tongue immediately found your clit, mouth wrapping around the glistening bead and sucking all at once, the moan it drew from your lips unholy. He moaned at the taste, hiking up your hips onto his shoulders.

“Christ, you’re sweet, doll, like fuckin’ candy...” He muttered in disbelief, more to himself that to you, licking a wide stripe along your drenched lips, diving into you deep enough to have your limbs spasming around him.

On instinct your hand flew to your mouth to muffle the sharp cry that the villain drew. He didn’t warn you before bringing his hand up high and slapping it into the bare skin of your thigh, a scream echoing through the living room. Distantly, you wondered if your neighbors could hear...

“Don’t you dare hide a single sound from me, slut, or this ends now,” his ultimatum was scary but the insult felt heavy in a way you’d never felt before, and you nodded without a second thought, breathlessly bunching one hand into the arm of the couch above you and the other into the ashy black of his hair.

You nodded down to him, silently saying to continue; the villain fixed on watching as your chest swelled in time with your breathing, a rush of blood going to the heat of his cock.

His pace was hungry, nipping at your thighs whenever he thought you were too comfortable, spinning circles into your clit with his tongue and chuckling at the noises it brought, “You gonna cum, princess?” You could only respond with a scream of his name, the plea music to his ears, but he needed you to be louder if he was to get what he wanted.

“Louder,” Dabi called your name like a prayer, moaning into your cunt as you practically suffocated him between your thighs, “Fuck—Louder, baby, scream it,”

“Dabi!!” Your orgasm was hot against his tongue and he drank in every last drop of your climax until you were wrenching away his greedy mouth, your pussy swollen and red from his care.

Just as you started to compose yourself, a frantic banging sounded on the door. Someone from the hallway was slamming down their fist, screaming your name.

“Hey! Did you just say Dabi?! Are you okay in there?” It was Kao.

Horror clawed away any kind of afterglow as you cupped your hand to your mouth, leaning up on your elbow and whispering, “What do I say?”

Dabi’s voice was just low enough to hide behind the pounding of Kao’s fists, “Do you trust me?”

Before you could answer the hero behind the wall called your name again.

“If you don’t answer me in five seconds I’m breaking this door down!”

Your gaze flickered from the front door to the villain that was wiping your slick from his chin.

“Yes,”

Dabi grinned, grabbing your wrists and holding you against his shirt, one hand wrapped painfully around your tits and the other erupting with blue fire in his palm.

“Come and get her, hero!” You made a confused squeal, thrashing around in his grasp, eyes wide and afraid as Dabi shushed into your ear, trying to calm you down.

‘Like hell if you’d calm down, he’d practically just signed your death sentence!’ you heaved against the fugitive, trying to shake yourself free to no avail.

All you could do was squeeze your eyes shut and imagine you were somewhere else as door was jolted in its hinges, the doorknob falling with a distant clang, and before you could beg Dabi to stop whatever stupid game he was playing, Kao ran into the room, eyes furrowed and fists raised as the door squeaked on the loose hinges behind him, blissfully unaware.

“Where are y—“ Kao’s voice paused mid-sentence, you flinched in Dabi’s hold, the heat of the redhead’s stare washing over you, naked and wet, making you tilt your head down, trying to hide yourself from the world.

“Isn’t she cute, hero?” Dabi rasped against you, the heat of his fire illuminated against the sweaty sheen of your trembling body. Kao didn’t know what to do, flustered and struggling to hide the tent in his latex costume.

You knew fighting back against the villain was pointless, falling limp in the strength of his arms as he chuckled into your neck, looking over at the bump in his pants, “You were right, babe, I think he likes you,”

“Get your filthy hands off of her!” Kao screamed, diving towards the couch with his fist raised back.

Dabi simply grinned, carefully hovering his flame ever closer to your now bare tits, you couldn’t help but scream at the proximity, and whatever plan Kao had in his mind died before his fist could make impact.

His novocaine laced voice spoke calmly beside your ear, “Any closer and she’s dead,” The hot rush down your legs wasn’t due to his flames, as one hand took to rubbing your sensitive sex, the sounds it elicited from you unintentional and mortifying under the presence of Kao in the room.

“What... what do you want, you bastard?” Dabi laughed at that one, tweaking your clit between his fingers and conducting the most beautiful notes from your pillowy lips.

“I think It’s pretty obvious what I want, don’t you think?” Your name on his lips sent you keening against him despite the inferno roaring inches away from your skin. He couldn’t move without Dabi’s flames hovering ever closer to your heaving chest, and to Kao, you were very clearly about to die. Although you didn’t believe Dabi would hurt you, he had asked you to trust him before he got Kao’s attention, after all, the line between foreplay and conflagration was becoming blurry.

Kao backed up into the half wall that separated the living room from the kitchen, barely making an effort to try and hide his erection anymore, “I’ll send you to fucking Tartarus for this, Dabi.”

“Oooo, scary,” His unlit hand trailed down your jawline, tilting you to his side until he could slide his tongue into your open lips, humming into your mouth, “What do you think, doll?

“Dabi, please... wait,“ The strength in your voice wasn’t as heated as before, and even you had to admit it sounded half-assed.

Kao’s quirk must be no good for long range because all he could do was stand there, trying to avert his eyes from your drooling cunt in favor of glaring daggers at the coy villain pulling soft mewls from your lips, “I swear... I’ll see you rot in prison for this. You’ll be fucking executed, you rapist—“

“—woah, woah, that stings, hero. Doll, is that really what I’m doin’?” You groaned, not exactly answering because you couldn’t hear the question, your eyes still shut tight in embarrassment.

The growl in his voice sent another soaking rush towards your pussy, as his hand grabbed you jaw, pulling you up, “Look at me,” Your eyes widened at the sight of Dabi so close to you, his chest warm against your back, the aches of your last orgasm fading into something new.

“Tell me to stop, princess, your call,” Time stood still as Dabi kissed a soft pathway along your neck, weirdly gentle as he listened for your response, his clothed hard-on pressed firmly against your ass.

Too flustered to speak, you merely wrenched your arm free from his grasp, carding you hand through his hair and pulling him to your desperate lips. You could feel him tug into a smirk against you as your hips eagerly ground themselves on him despite the audience.

Kao choked on his own spit, stepping backwards, but stopped when Dabi aimed his ignited hand towards the hero who was having difficulty piecing together your actions in his head. “What,” His voice cracked when he called out your name, “are you...?”

Dabi pulled away, a feral glint in the blue hidden beneath his hair as he licked a disgustingly wet stripe along your cheek, chest rumbling behind you as you squirmed at the gross feeling, “I’m still gonna need you to beg, sweetheart.”

Your dignity was hanging by a thread, hinging on whether or not you followed his lead, but the insane buzz your anxiety had stirred up under Kao’s confused stare and Dabi’s aching cock was impossible to ignore. He rut himself into the dripping curve of your ass, his jeans soaked with your slick as you found the courage to speak.

“Fuh...” Carefully, Dabi pressed a loving kiss to your temple, his stare fixated on Kao’s as you strung the syllables together, “Fuck me, Dabi,”

The hero couldn’t believe his ears. She’d turned him down countless times despite his pursuits, yet she was somehow fine with this? Kao briefly thought that perhaps his crush was a villain this whole time, but that couldn’t make sense with her weak quirk.

You felt Dabi twitch beneath you, the shameless way you showed yourself off was as humiliating as it was hot, and he laughed in lightheaded disbelief against the back of your neck, taking your ass in one hand and slipping the other down his pants, tugging off the painful metal zipper until his boxers were pulled down just enough for his cock to finally be met with the soft warmth of your cunt.

“As the lady commands,” Dabi grinned, reaching around your waist to take his pierced dick in his hand, rubbing and tapping his swollen head deliberately against your clit, pre-cum drenching your pussy as you felt boneless in his arms.

“Ah-! St..S-top tea-sing, Dabi!” You babbled, squirming to try and find an escape from his grasp or maybe trying to force him inside you, but all your struggling did was make him harder. But before you could beg, you froze at the sight of Kao a few feet away, his legs bending into a sprinter’s pose. He was going to run?

Dabi was having none of it, a controlled jet of flame grazing Kao’s knee, scalding the skin beneath the latex. The hero cried out into the bite of his fist, collapsing into the wall a few feet away.

“Nah, hero. You’re not leaving just yet,” The villain rearranged you on his lap, “See, the thought of you jerking off to my girl? It kinda pisses me off, actually,”

The color in Kao’s face drained as he had no choice but to sit and watch as Dabi slowly sunk you down on top of him, one hand drawing soft circles into your stomach as you reveled in the feeling of his piercings hot against every part of you.

“Though, I’m wondering, what did you think about, huh?” Kao sputtered, unable to form words just like you, formless noises falling from your lips.

His scarred hands grasped at the flesh of your thighs, raising you up only to shove you back onto his cock, the flames that still extended to threaten Kao suddenly flared up in time with his thrusts, the weight of him felt so much deeper at this angle and it was hard to breathe, let alone speak.

“I... nothing! I didn’t—“ Another whip of fire cut through the room from Dabi’s fingertips, a cast of blue leaving bubbling skin in its wake, pain flashing across Kao’s face.

“Fuckin’ liar,” You yelped as Dabi shoved you down, moaning into your ear as you squeezed against him, sobbing his name into his chest as he picked up a steady pace in your guts.

Kao cried out, stuttering and gripping along the inflamed line of skin, “I-I thought— thought about her... fuck— I just wanted her to suck me off, alright? There, I said it! Are you happy now?”

He must’ve realized the mistake in his words as soon as he said them, squeezing your eyes shut but having no choice but to smell the stench of burning flesh and hear the sound of muffled screaming as it filled your apartment, “Can’t blame you though, her mouth is God,”

Your hands scrambled for balance against Dabi as the screaming of his victim made him downright feral, filling your tight heat so well it had you crying.

“Damn, you’re soaked for me, doll, I just knew you were a kinky fuck deep down. You’re a slutty little girl for me, aren’t ya?”

As much as it hurt to admit it, he was right. He was painfully right, and you told him so. The unhinged, unstoppable force that was Dabi ignited a passion in you that’d never been fed before. He was torturing the hero you hated all while taking your cunt in deep, harsh thrusts, the metal imbedded into his cock and his chest behind you were blisteringly hot against your skin.

“Tell him, baby,” His question fell on deaf ears, your tongue lolling from your mouth a bit at the pleasure.

It caught you off guard when he drew his hand back and slapped you across the cheek, a blistering red handprint in its wake, saying your name so softly, turning off his quirk to run his hands through your hair, he whispered, “Tell that fucking hero who you belong to,”

The world tipped over as Dabi gripped your shoulders, pushing you onto the wooden coffee table so your ass stuck in the air. In an instant he was on you again, pounding into your cunt with a glazed fervor, your words downright biblical in his ears.

“On-ly... Dabi ca—Ngh, Only Dabi can fuck me this good,” You forced the words from your throat, thankful for the table serving as an impartial shoulder to cry on as Dabi lined himself up with your cunt.

“More, princess,” The snap of his hips had you drooling onto the table, catching sight of Kao’s slumped body in the corner as Dabi’s breath sounded much louder than before.

“Fuck, baby—” You cried, craning your neck back to look at him. Sweat glistened at the crown of his dark hair, steam shading his breath as he took you hard, “Your cock is— shit its so deep in me,”

Your nerves were spent from exhaustion as he railed you, being more vocal than before as he choked at the feeling of your walls tightening around him, his fingernails digging future bruises into your hip dips, “Wanna feel you cum in me, want you to fill me up— Dabi, wanna make you feel good,”

“Fuck, doll, I can’t...” He ground his teeth together, making you squeal as he mounted you from behind, spreading your legs out wide so you had no way to hide yourself, “Gonna fuck’n cum-gonna cum in you- fuck, fuck, fuck—!“

You both hit your highs at the same time, Dabi accidentally digging your face into the wood as he held you as tightly to him as possible, his cum running hot due to his quirk as he pumped you full, that broken cry of yours like music to his ears, humping you a few times to ride out his climax.

You felt warm and safe, Dabi’s weight a comfortable blanket even with your shivering skin pressed naked into the coffee table. However, the quietly groaning hero in the corner made you quickly come back down to earth.

“Dabi... did you kill him?” Your voice was small beneath him, but he just shrugged.

“Nah, not yet, don’t worry,” He kissed your neck one more time, his thumb rubbing circles into your indented stomach, pulling you off the table and back into his arms.

He pulled out of you and grinned at the sight of his release spilling down your thighs, “Damn...” he whispered, taking in the sight with a satisfied whistle, “C’mon Doll, forget about him.”

You were grateful he carried you bridal style to your bedroom, your legs gelatin at this point, and as he laid you down to rest he grabbed one of your discarded shirts that hadn’t made it to the hamper and wiped down the remains of sex from your twitching cunt before leaving the cum-stained top ignored on the ground.

“You doing good, baby? Didn’t go too hard, did I?” His concern was diminished somewhat by the grin on his face, satisfied with the mumbling, love-drunk form he’d reduced you to.

Shaking your head, you burrowed into the warm blankets, peeking your eyes out from beyond the covers in a way that even Dabi couldn’t deny was pretty cute, “No, just... what are you gonna do with Kao?”

His face was unreadable as he leaned closer, “Do you really want to know?”

Truth be told, no, you didn’t, you were just a civilian, far removed from the complex fight between heroes and villains. You were only in this situation because you’d grown to care about Dabi. In some small, sarcastic way, he’d wormed his way into your life, and he hadn’t hurt you so far, only going as close as possible to bring you over the edge again and again.

“No...”

“Good answer,” he stood up, tucking himself back into his jeans as he went back into the living room. You heard a muffled thud and what sounded like Dabi cursing before he reappeared in your bedroom, Kao’s unconscious body slung over his shoulder. For such a wiry guy, Dabi was pretty strong. Moving to the open window he basically threw Kao’s body onto the outside metal grating, his lungs uneven after carrying him.

Just as he swung his leg onto the windowsill you shot up in your bed, hand outstretched, “Wait!”

He turned back to look at you, genuinely confused as to what you could want.

“Kiss me before you go?”

He froze, then grinned, scoffing at the innocent gesture you gave so openly to a murderer like him. There had to be something wrong with his little villain-in-training to make her okay with it, just like him. Dabi ignored that thought for another day, striding forward and finally giving you the goodbye kiss you’d been denied last time, his tongue trying to map out every detail in case he could ever forget before pulling away with a warm softness to his ocean eyes.

“I think I might be starting to like you, Doll,” A feint rush of color fell on his unmarred skin and you’re sure your heart stopped beating for a good three seconds.

His words were a worn record being played over and over in your head long after he crawled down your fire escape, the teasing, sated haze in his voice hidden beneath a rasp of smoke. You weren’t sure how much he meant what he said, but you’re sure that the first thing you said in return was exactly what he wanted to hear; at least judging from the boyish smile that lit up his face when you said it.

“Come back soon, okay?”

“Okay,”

@effmigentlywithachainsaw @touyasfatcock @thicchaikyuuboys @awritersometimes @chey-the-simp

[oitommothetease]

Invisible String (4/?)

Pairing:  Bucky Barnes x Female reader (Modern AU)

Description: James Buchanan Barnes, the owner of the most expensive-looking club in town and your new apartment. He was a dick and you hated him. What could possibly go wrong when you, the new girl in town, start bartending at his club to pursue your dreams?

Word Count: 2.6k words

Warning: 18+ (discussion of assault, nervous breakdown, anxiety attack, just don’t read this whole series if you are a kid)

You woke up to a night of dreamless sleep like you always did, but then the events of the previous night hit you. You wished it was a dream, but one look in the mirror and a bruise running along your cheek was enough to confirm. Not only that, but you remembered asking your boss to stay over, but you didn't expect him to. The blanket on your living room’s couch and the bowl of fruits and a glass of juice situated out for you on the kitchen counter proved that he did stay.

And then the reality sunk in, you have a decision to make. You can either go to the cops or let that guy get away. The latter sounded not so great, but you knew going to the cops isn't going to be great either. You've seen enough detective shows to know that. You've had enough, and you just wanted to forget it. 

What did Mr. Barnes mean when he said you were going to talk about this? Are you supposed to visit him before work? Is he going to come to your place?

You decided to work on your book but ended up not being able to concentrate, so you started watching a show and fell asleep while watching it. Maybe some Chinese take-out could make you feel better. It didn't. Nothing made you feel better. You wished you had some friends in this new town because you didn't want to burden your work friends. 

After a horrible day of trying to cope, when you finally made your way to the club, you noticed the security was increased. Usually, security guards weren't present inside the club, but today it was different. Everyone was so vigilant and you felt a little safer. If you didn't know any better, you'd think Mr. Barnes did it for you, but again he would have done the same thing for any other employee. 

"Boss wants to see you," Pietro told you. You were about to head for Clint's office when the blond twin spoke again and pointed his finger towards the stairs." The boss."

Okay, well maybe playing naïve couldn't avoid this meeting, so you slowly walked upstairs. How bad could this go, it's not like he saw you in your most vulnerable state? Oh, wait, he did. 

You knocked on his office door, wanting to rip the band-aid and get over with it. 

"Hey," you said, faking a smile. "Thanks for getting me home last night and for breakfast today. I didn't even know I had fruits and juice at home because let's be honest, I'm a toast and coffee kinda gal."

Mr. Barnes didn't say anything, he just looked at you as if you were a confusing puzzle that he couldn't solve. He raised a hand towards the seat in front of him and you took it, nervously fiddling with your fingers under the table.

“You do that a lot, you know?” he asked, it wasn't a question, it was merely an observation.

“What?”

“Deflecting a serious issue by using a joke.” Mr. Barnes observed as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“What are you? My therapist?”

He arched an eyebrow, indicating that you were literally doing the thing he pointed out. 

"Yeah, well, it's called having a healthy coping mechanism. You should try getting one, brooding is only gonna help you this far."

 "It's not healthy if you're not dealing with it," Mr. Barnes pointed out. 

You scoffed in incredulity and you felt very, very attacked. 

What is it? Attacking y/n day?, you thought. 

"Anyway, I think I want to press charges," You changed the subject to a more serious conversation to avoid him calling you out on your bullshit. 

"Okay, I understand.” 

“You do?” You asked, bewilderment clearly written all over your face. “I mean, letting an employee go to the cops is not gonna be great for your club's reputation and yours too. And, you know, considering the shady business, you do-” 

"What exactly do you think we do?" He asked.

And that's when it hit you, you didn't know what he did or mob bosses do in general. All your knowledge about it came from movies and Wattpad, both of them are not a great place to gain knowledge.

“What exactly do you do?” you pondered.

 He obviously wasn't expecting you to directly ask him, nobody has directly asked him or even made it known that they are aware of his work. It was kind of like a silent pact that everybody signed for, everybody except you, apparently. 

“Um, you know, I've been working for almost 2 weeks here now, and I haven't seen any drugs around here, so it's obviously not drugs. You don't look like the sex trafficking types-”

 "Jesus, woman!" He exclaimed, offended by your assumptions. 

"Then just tell me what you do."

You expected him to tell you something, but he just kept looking at you with a face void of emotions.

 "Fine, don't tell me," you mumbled, raising your hands dramatically in defeat. 

“So you don't mind me ruining your reputation by going to the cops?” 

“I told you I don't care. Your safety is my utmost priority,” your face might have given away the surprise you felt because he quickly backpedaled. ”I mean, the safety of my employees.”

“The safety of my employees is my utmost priority,” he told you, providing an extra emphasis on the word employees. “Anyway, one of my people would take you to the police station near-"

You cut him off immediately. 

"No, you can't tell anyone else. I don't want everyone hopping on the pity train. I'm already ashamed that you know about it," you pleaded but your voice was firm, telling him that this was not up for a discussion.

At this, his eyes and features softened. Bucky didn't want you to feel guilty or ashamed for somebody else's actions, but clearly, you did. 

"Okay, then I can take you. You just had to explain to the officer last night’s events, and they'll ask you to recognize Rumlow and then we can-"

Mr. Barnes’s voice faded into the background when it finally hit you.

"You know what, I changed my mind. It's too much. I don't want to press charges anymore. I didn't think this through," you backtracked. You did think this through, but now all the factors were adding up in your brain. You'd have to explain the details to a cop who is probably going to be another man and a stranger, and then they'd ask you to identify the guy. You didn't think you had it in you to face him. At least not now. 

He interpreted your thought process and promptly changed the topic. "Okay, we can work with whatever you want, and at least let Peter escort you home after work."

"What? No!” You quickly declined.

“It's for your own safety,” Bucky tried to reason. He wasn't letting you get off this easily.

 “I'm a strong, independent woman and I'm not scared of anything.” 

That was a lie. You were scared of many things like heights, dark, spiders, confrontation and the list goes on and on. 

You remembered all the lectures your mom gave you telling you that women should be scared because men are monsters, and you'd lose your honor if you are reckless and some other patriarchal crap that you didn't pay attention to. But you weren't scared, you were just always careful. You'd always put the keys between your knuckles when you went home alone. In your previous job, you used to laugh it off whenever your coworkers made a sexist joke. You'd ignore the subtle shoulder touch that your previous boss did. You told yourself that this is what it takes to make it. If you were to run away every time someone eyed you in a wrong way, then you'd spend your whole life running. 

Women usually shrug this behavior off as it is what is, but the truth is it shouldn't be like this.

“Please, I insist.” 

“I'm very capable of taking care of myself. Just because one bad incident happened doesn't mean I'll fucking break!” You stated, your voice louder than your regular voice to get across your point.

That was also a lie. You were walking on a thin line and you were ignoring your emotions. You were one outburst away from a breakdown, and you just couldn't bring yourself to feel anything. 

Mr. Barnes tried to call your name, but you were already bolting out of his office. 

You needed a drink. No, fuck that. You needed multiple drinks. It wasn't exactly wise to get drunk during work, but it couldn't get any shittier than this, right?, you thought.

Right?

 Wrong. It could get way shittier than this. Now it was almost midnight, you were kind of tipsy, and you could see two Mr. Stark, your regular customer, in front of you. 

Did he have a twin? Is he and his twin brother one of those identical twins that dress up the same? Because that's what it looked like.

 “Earth to y/n," Mr. Stark said, or was it his twin? It was getting hard to keep track anymore.

 And that's when you noticed. 

“Holy, Shit. You're triplets, Mr. Stark," you announced. 

"Okay, kid, close my tab.”

“Hey, y/n. Are you okay?” Peter asked, noticing the concerned look Mr. Stark gave him before leaving.

“Yes, I'm fine. Absolutely fine.”

***

Turns out you were not fine. You've been pretty much hammered for the past week, and you could barely get a sentence out without giggling or slurring. Your colleagues took notice of your state and whenever someone pointed it out, you'd just shrug it off as a bad day or a bad week. There was no concept of time in your drunk state.

You couldn't concentrate on your book, you could barely look at someone without squinting, and you've been eating takeout and leftovers for the past few days. 

James would have fired if someone working under him was this irresponsible, but he knew your reasons. He knew you clearly weren't coping with the trauma well. Your work ethics were shoved down the trash that even Clint asked why you weren't fired yet.

Bucky didn't want to talk to you, he thought that maybe giving you some space would do you good, but clearly it wasn't working. Usually, the mob boss didn't interfere in the affairs of his employees, it was Clint's job, but when you smashed a bottle on the head of a customer, he had to interject.

“I TOLD THIS FUCKER NO!” you yelled, Peter’s hand around your middle from behind. Another empty beer bottle was in your hand, ready to be smashed across the face of the drunk dude in front of you.

Pietro and Wanda were enjoying the show. Peter, being the peace lover he is, held you back when you smashed a bottle across a drunk customer's face. Even though Peter was younger than you, he was stronger, and he was not only holding you back but also himself. He didn't want to cause a scene and that is why he was mulling comforting words in your ear like, he's not worth it, you're gonna kill this guy.

Damn right I am, you thought.

It was ironic because everyone in that club had killed someone except you.

When Bucky walked into the room, the drunk guy turned towards him and pointed at you. ”You are hiring crazy bitches now? Just called her baby girl and she went psycho!!!”

Bucky didn't understand what was happening. He told the security guards to take that man outside his club and he walked towards you. He firmly yet gently took a hold of your left arm, signaling Peter to let go of you. Without a word, he started walking in the direction of his office, dragging you along with him.

Once near his office, he lightly yanked your hand and shoved you inside, making you stand in front of him.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he inquired, having had enough of your incompetence.

You were seething with rage. "Wrong with me? I told him no, but he didn't listen."

Bucky stepped forward, his anger dissipating into sympathy. " I know, he mumbled, "and I'm so-"

 "No, you don't know!" you yelled, body trembling and tears welling up in your eyes. "I told him no multiple times, I even tried to push him off me, but he just kept coming back."

Bucky's eyes furrowed in confusion. He didn't understand your words, the drunk customer didn't touch you. And that's when he realized, you weren't talking about the drunk customer. He cognized that the drunk guy purely triggered something that you've been suppressing for days now. Bucky was aware that you needed to get it out of your system to cope healthily.

“I told him no, you know? But he just wouldn't listen,” you stated, trying to convince yourself that you didn't lead him on. ”And he was so…. so strong and… and then he hit me and everything just went blur, I couldn't see but... but I could still feel him with me.”

Not realizing that you were not in that place anymore, you wrapped your hand around yourself to seek some sort of protection and comfort, bottom lip quivering, the welled up traitorous tears were streaming down your face and all you could think about was that night. 

“I… I can't get his touch out,” you stammered. ” I shower, multiple times a day, but I still can't get his touch out.”

With that, you broke down completely and shattered on the floor, sobbing ferociously. Your knees ached because of the position you were situated in, but the emotional pain was enough to overshadow the physical one.

For once in his lifetime, Bucky did not know what to do. Cautiously, he made his way towards you and knelt down in front of you. He did not know what to say or do to make you feel better.

You launched your body towards him, snaking your arms around his shoulder to settle on his neck as if he was the only thing grounding you. You lurched onto him like he was your anchor, and maybe he was. It took a minute for Bucky to register your actions, and when he did, he wrapped his arms around your middle and closed the minuscule distance separating you.

He surprised himself with the way one of his hands automatically reached for your hair and whispered words of comfort in your ear. He caught you as you crumpled physically and emotionally. 

”You're going to be okay, doll,” he whispered and kissed your temple with sincerity. ”I will make sure of that.”

The second part was barely audible, it wasn't meant for you, it was a promise he made to himself.

Bucky held you tightly yet gently while you sobbed on his shoulder.

 He didn't know how long he held you, it felt like an eternity to him with the way he could feel the guilt and rage inside him. When you passed out in his arms, he gently placed you on one of the comfortable couches in his office and draped a blanket around you that he had for when he would work late at night.

An office chair might not be the most ideal place to spend the night in, but it didn't matter to Bucky. All that mattered was you.

TAGS: @bananapipedreams​ @akkinda10​  @rivers-rambles21​  @emmabarnes​@goodcleanfunsis​ @valsworldofcreativity​

[astoryinred]

"Trese" and the truth in the fiction

In short: why the actual monsters in Trese don't have horns, wings, or summoning rituals

Finally the Netflix anime adaptation of the Filipino graphic novel/comics series "Trese" has dropped. It is available in several languages such as English, Filipino, Japanese, Spanish...just to name a few. It is not a perfect work, both in technical terms as well as an adaptation of the source material, but it is worth a watch. Go watch it. Please.

That being said, there is so much to unpack about the series, and I do not mean in terms of the voice-acting and the ethnicities of the persons involved, or just how crunched together the writing is. I will leave that to the critics. What I am writing here is a view as to the real life truths woven into the horror/supernatural threads of the "Trese" episodes, and why these are important. It's because for a lot of people encountering "Trese" at this point, the actual every day monsters of the tale (or at least of the first 4 episodes) are even more distant than the aswangs, tikbalangs, nunos and other supernatural beings that populate the anime.

This will go into spoilers below the cut

Episode 1: The series opens with a train stopping right near the "Guadalupe Station", and some of its passengers being attacked by aswang as they walk along the railroad tracks. During the course of investigating this and another case (that of a ghost murdered on Balete Drive), Alexandra Trese learns that other spirits using this train line have recently perished in a fire or have also been murdered by aswang in league with a politician.

The squatter/informal settler community mentioned in this episode is based on a real one. That area has gone up in flames from accidental and not so accidental fires over the past few decades. Some of the settlers have moved on, but a good many have stubbornly stuck around despite the land being eyed by a large property developer. That area is a symptom of the inequality that plagues that particular part of the metropolis, since it is only less than a mile away from some of the country's swankiest gated subdivisions. While the powers that be are (probably) not involved in selling anyone for meat, they still have a long way to go to address the woes of that community when it is not election season.

As for the other murder in the episode? There have been several cases of women associated with or married to prominent politicians who have died in mysterious circumstances, with some of these deaths ruled as suicide. In many cases, the truth has been hushed up, or simply swept under the rug.

Episode 2: While Alexandra is pursuing the trail of a tikbalang running wild in the city, she also is called to investigate a mysterious series of electrocutions in a gated village. Along the way she discovers that this is a form of human sacrifice to the bagyons manning the electricity providers of the city.

As reprehensible as the bagyons are, what is truly sickening is the seeming indifference of the people in Livewell Village. It's mentioned more in the comics (but also given a line or two of exposition here by the Nuno) that the people regularly offer an outsider, usually a skilled worker in charge of maintenance, to ensure that the bagyon will bless them. In real life there is the callousness that some people exhibit towards essential workers such as yes, repairmen and electricians who have to endure heights and storms just to ensure the "comfort" of consumers. Although the Philippines isn't a country crawling with litiginous folk and "Karens", there are enough of this sort to make essential workers' lives miserable on a daily basis.

Episode 3: This is a difficult one, both in the comics and the anime. One of Trese's cases leads her to cross paths with an actress named Nova, who is later revealed to have had her child left to die (hence making her a target for a specific type of monster). Nova's story is admittedly not easy to deal with and may be considered incredulous, but there are two important contexts to remember when watching it.

The first is that abortion is still illegal throughout the Philippines. It cannot be legally offered by any clinic or medical practitioner. There are clandestine alternatives available, but at a steep price.

That being said, most Filipinos regardless of where they stand on the abortion issue will still consider the abandonment or murder of an infant to be beyond the pale. Yet this does happen. Every month one can expect to read a story or two of babies being tossed in the trash or left in bathrooms---and those are just the stories that make it to the press. There have been exposes about mothers who have sold off their infants to "adopters" willing to pay thousands of pesos or dollars for an under the table transfer of custody. These happen because of desperation, poverty, and lack of resources to support mothers. Maternity leave is only up to 120 days here in most cases, and there are few resources to support mothers with PPD, mothers abandoned by their partners, or those with just too many mouths to feed. Questions of "bodily autonomy" are not first and foremost in the mind of many women who do the worst to their newborns; the question is food on the table for the next day or the day after. Survival is key. Not independence or empowerment.

With these in mind, it is not surprising that Nova is considered one of the most disturbing and reprehensible characters in this episode. From what we see, her choice of abandoning her child stems from vanity and pursuit of a glamorous career. We can see that this is not because she would be out on the streets if she had a child to care for, or because she was escaping something. It's just portrayed as pure selfishness.

It is interesting that Nova is introduced here almost as a juxtaposition to another mother, Ramona. Ramona, the mother of Crispin and Basilio, is an armed insurgent who engages in a ritual to avenge herself on the military men who forced her to murder her own comrades. It is also implied earlier in the season that it was not just murder involved, but that Ramona had also been a "prize" given to the soldiers who captured her. And yes in this context, it can also mean rape. The Armed Forces of the Philippines does not have a shining record when it comes to its treatment of women dissidents and prisoners. This backstory does not justify what Ramona does for the remainder of her screentime, but it does show why she has absolutely no sympathy or mercy to give to anyone outside of her two children. She is part of a cycle of killing that makes any peaceful resolution of the insurgency in the Philippines so difficult to achieve. Both sides behave abominably, and civillians do get caught in the crossfire (or explosions).

Episode 4: Much of this episode revolves around the events in and surrounding a certain police station located near a large public cemetery. We see that the police chief Captain Guerrero has his hands full with cases and keeping his subordinates in line. The cops in the precinct range from the innocent apparent newcomer Tapia to the more stereotypical "asshole" cops Reyes and company. Later it is discovered that the bodies apparently "stolen" from the graves are resurrected zombies who are being directed to attack the station for a specific reason...and it has to do with how the police run their often bloody operations.

The real life neighborhoods surrounding the cemetery have seen their share of violence and "extra judicial killings". In some houses there are still candles and placards calling for justice for family members killed in raids or accused of having been drug suspects (almost a death sentence in the Philippines 2016 onwards). Eyewitnesses and CCTV footage show members of the police force taking part in these raids and clandestine operations. The worst part? The neighborhoods surrounding that particular cemetery haven't even seen the worst of it. Other disadvantaged communities in the north of the metropolis have seen even more deaths of this sort...with some of the deaths being those of children. Google the name of Kian delos Santos as a test case. Kian's case was one of the few to have extended media coverage, and even then the resolution has been rather wanting.

It is tempting to go into the "all cops are bastards" line of thought with this episode, but I do like how Captain Guerrero is forced to interact with someone who he is trying to save in the station, since as it turns out this person has recently lost a family member to this form of senseless murder. Captain Guerrero and the audience are led to remember that these victims have names. They had families. They had lives. They are more than body counts and statistics. That scene is one of the most humanizing of the series, and shows that while not all cops are bastards, there is enough rot in the institution to make it a problem.

Episodes 5-6: I would go more into Episodes 5 and 6, but those deserve a whole new treatment into the nature of truth, compromise, and even gaslighting (even I am not sure how much of a certain character's narrative is true, and how much is just meant to confuse Alexandra with regard to what she knows of her father). The context she does face before those harrowing revelations is a very real one though: things going wrong in a penitentiary.

The penal system of the Philippines is alarmingly punitive and full of inequities. Privileged inmates like politicians do receive special treatment (including media coverage and becoming leaders of factions) while less privileged inmates languish and must struggle to survive the brutal social hiearchy in some institutions. And yes it has happened that inmates have been sent out to do "jobs" of murder and arson in the outside world, often being snuck in and out. A movie that tackles this aspect better is "OTJ (On the Job)" directed by Erik Matti. That one will keep you up at night.

The ending of Episode 6 is rather ambiguous, and it remains to be seen what Alexandra really experienced during her trials prior to becoming a detective, and what her father really did to her and her sibling. We'll have to wait for another season to get to the bottom of that. But if the anime will continue to draw from the comics themselves for stories/case files, we can count on seeing more societal demons and baddies alongside the supernatural ones. And those are the villains that Alexandra Trese cannot just readily beat; it will take a heck lot more than a babaylan na mandirigma to handle those!

[superanimeidiot]

what was supposed to be a teeny tiny drabble (it’s not)

Ok so I was writing Karma’s confrontation with his mother and then THIS scene popped into my head. It doesn’t fit at all in the chapter (it’s supposed to be about Karma and his mom duh) but I really really wanted to write it anyway so I figured I would write the little scene and post it here but THEN it turned into this 2k word monstrosity that was SUPPOSED to be a SMALL SCENE but it decided it was going to make me stay up until 2 AM WRITING IT and it just wouldn’t LEAVE ME ALONE. So yeah I’m kinda sleep deprived and this has only been very lightly proofread and hasn’t gone through nearly as much fine-tuning as I normally put my writing through but it is currently 2:37 AM and I am satisfied with it for now so HERE HAVE THIS SCRAP I HOPE YOU LIKE IT

(also this is set the night Korosensei died. If I’m remembering canon right they killed Korosensei then, like, hid up in their classroom until leaving for graduation? Which is so messed up on so many levels like why did they go straight from a very traumatic event to their graduation without even seeing their families or SLEEPING???? So I hereby declare that, with the whole crisis thing, Kunugigaoka postponed the graduation ceremony and after they killed Korosensei Class E was taken to that government station place I vaguely remember they were taken to in canon and their parents were called to pick them up.)

Karma is curled up in a stiff plastic chair, knees pulled up to his chest, a shock blanket wrapped around his shoulders, and his cellphone clutched between his fingers, when his father finds him. Gakuhou doesn’t say anything. He sits beside Karma in his own stiff plastic chair and watches him, not saying a word.

Karma swallows around the lump that’s been lodged in his throat since Korosensei died. “You don’t have to stay with me,” he says, his voice hoarse from the aforementioned lump. He hasn’t spoken since the mountaintop. That’s why the police wrapped him in the shock blanket. “Mom is on her way.”

“Okay,” his father says, but he doesn’t move. 

Karma is too tired to dredge up the familiar anger. He’s too tired for anything. He thinks he’ll be this tired forever - the kind of bone-deep exhaustion that reaches to the soul and weighs his whole body down. He traces a finger across the edge of his phone. 

“They’re going to get rid of you,” he says. He doesn’t sound happy, or vindictive, or smug - just very matter-of-fact. “The parents will be out for blood, and they can’t go after the government. You make a very nice scapegoat.”

His father gives a soft exhale that could, charitably, be called a laugh. “Yes,” he agrees. “My days at Kunugigaoka are over. Does that make you happy?” he asks, only mildly curious.

Karma taps a finger against his phone, considering. “If I was a nice person,” he says, slowly, “I would say no.”

Gakuhou does laugh at that. “You’re my son,” he says. “You were never going to be a nice person.”

Karma glares from the corner of his eye, but doesn’t contest it. “It serves you right,” he decides. “After all the crap you pulled in this school, you deserve to be kicked out on your ass.”

Gakuhou nods. “A fair assessment.”

They sit in silence, neither comfortable nor uncomfortable. Karma’s phone buzzes with a text from his mother, telling him they’re fifteen minutes away but traffic might delay them. Karma wonders what kind of traffic could possibly exist at this hour, then realizes the traffic that occurs after major, life-altering events. He sends back a thumbs up emoji. His hands, unoccupied once more, begin to tap a staccato beat against the back of his cell.

His father remains absolutely still in his chair, no signs of nervous movement or absentminded tics. Clearly, Karma’s restless nature was not inherited from him. He seems content to sit with Karma in silence, but Karma, suddenly, is not.

“Why are you here?” he blurts out, with zero forethought. 

Gakuhou tilts his head. “Do you want me to leave?”

“That’s not an answer.”

His father huffs a quiet laugh, nodding his acknowledgement. “I saw the news,” he says after a long stretch of silence. “The reporter was talking about some monster in Kunugigaoka, and the government wasn’t saying anything. Nobody knew what was going on, just that something was happening and it was bad.” He pauses, and Karma waits, wondering when his father would get to the point that led him to sitting in an uncomfortable chair, keeping his estranged son company in the small hours of the morning.

“And then your mother called me.”

Karma visibly startles in his chair as a bolt of surprise rips through him. He’d been staring at his shoes during his father’s story, but now he turns to openly gape at Gakuhou. Never in a million years would he guess his mother would ever willingly, of her own volition, speak to his father again.

“Was she mad?” He realizes how stupid the question is as soon as it leaves his mouth. 

A wry sort of smile twists Gakuhou’s lips. “I think furious is putting it lightly. I couldn’t understand some of what she said through the screaming, but I got the gist. You had run off to Kunugigaoka on some suicide mission for your class, and if anything happened to you she would string me up herself.”

“She didn’t really say that,” Karma denies, then hesitates. “Did she?”

“No,” Gakuhou says drily, rubbing a tired palm against his eyes. “She was much more graphic.”

Karma’s jaw drops again. He can picture it suddenly, playing clear in his mind like a movie: his mother red-faced and rumpled in her pajamas as she screams at his father through her cell phone, crying and issuing threats in the same breath; his father, sitting at his desk or on his couch, watching the news in blank shock and listening to his ex-wife’s promises to kill him if anything happened to Karma.

Karma swallows roughly. “You deserve that too.”

“Yes,” Gakuhou agrees. “I do.”

Karma nods once, sharply, waiting for Gakuhou to resume his explanation.

“Your mother ran out of steam eventually and hung up. I called Karasuma and asked him what was going on, and he told me what he could. I woke Gakushuu up, told him what was happening and not to answer the door or phone unless it was me, and then I drove here.”

Karma nods again, thoughtfully this time. “That’s still not an answer,” he points out. “Why are you here,” he stresses, “with me, sitting in this stupid chair when you could be literally anywhere else?”

Gakuhou frowns, slumping back in his chair in a casual show of exhaustion Karma has never seen on him. “You’re my son,” he says, a raw edge in his voice, as if that is all the explanation required. “My youngest child.”

“I’m not a little kid anymore.”

“No,” his father agrees, almost sadly. “You’re not. You don’t need me to protect you anymore. This is probably more for me than you, anyway. I needed to know you were safe.”

He scoffs. “I didn’t know you cared.”

The wry smile makes a reappearance. “Neither did I. I had convinced myself I didn’t care what happened to you or your mother. At least, until you popped up in the last place I expected to find you.” He sighs softly, head tilting back to watch the ceiling. “I have many things to apologize for, Karma. I messed up with you in so many ways. But I don’t think you want to hear them right now, so I thought I could sit with you until your mother got here and…” he pauses, searching for the right words. He must give up on finding them, though, because he sighs gustily and sinks lower into his chair. “I don’t know what I’m doing here,” he admits. “I doubt I offer much in the way of comfort. Do you want me to leave?”

Karma considers. “Any other night, I would probably say yes. But tonight…” 

Tonight, they killed Korosensei. Tonight, he scraped his nerves raw during his confrontation with his mother. Tonight, he’d been sitting by himself in a stiff chair, wrapped in a shock blanket, replaying the night in his head and feeling more and more adrift until his father sat down beside him and made him feel less alone. 

“Tonight, you can stay,” he says. It’s still not forgiveness. His father hasn’t apologized yet, and Karma still hasn’t decided whether he’ll grant it. If anything, it’s a white flag - a temporary cease-fire. For now, it’s enough.

Gakuhou nods, and they settle back into silence. 

A while later, his phone buzzes again. It’s another text from his mother. They’re five minutes away now. His time with his father is ticking away. He wonders how he should spend it. Silence is probably safest. Karma is too numb right now to work up enough anger for a fight, but if he opens his mouth and says the wrong thing he might mess up the fragile truce they’ve landed on. He realizes, to his slight consternation, he doesn’t want to mess it up. 

What he does want, he realizes, is the answer to one simple question. If he’s lucky, Gakuhou will answer. If he’s really lucky, he’ll be too numb with shock for the answer to hurt too badly. 

He fiddles with his phone some more, twisting it in his fingers as he considers whether to ask his next question.  “If I ask you something,” he says, haltingly, “will you give me an honest answer?”

“Yes,” is the immediate reply.

“You’ll tell me the truth?” he presses. “Even if it hurts me? Even if it makes me hate you?”

“I thought you already hated me,” Gakuhou says, amused. Then, more serious, “I won’t lie to you, Karma. Even if it hurts. Ask your question.”

Karma nods, still considering. He checks his phone and sees he only has a few minutes before his parents arrive. Whatever, he thinks, metaphorically tossing up his hands. I’ve been torturing myself with this for years. At least now I’ll know. 

“Were you sad when mom took me?”

He’d like to say the room grew quiet after he spoke, but that would be a lie. People are still bustling around them, fielding phone calls and doing whatever government people do after a major crisis. The world moves on, even when you’re falling apart. 

Still, in their corner of the room, Karma feels like a bubble has separated him and Gakuhou from the rest of the world. The noise of other people doesn’t exist anymore. For him, there is only silence and the sound of his heartbeat as he waits for Gakuhou to answer.

It takes a long time. Or maybe it just feels long because he’s holding his breath.

“When I watched her drive away,” his father says, measuring the words out bit by bit, “and realized that was it - when I realized she was taking you and you weren’t coming back…” He sighs, a heavy sound. “Yes. It didn’t feel real until that moment. I watched the car disappear and thought I was having a heart attack. I locked myself in my office and drank an entire bottle of sake until it stopped hurting. I didn’t cry,” he muses aloud. “I think I was too sad to cry. Too sad, and I didn’t think I deserved to. It was my fault, after all. I drove you both away. I didn’t have the right to cry about it.”

Karma rests his chin on top of his knees as he processes. If he was in his right mind, he would probably be angry. That’s his typical response to anything his father says or does. The anger still feels far away right now, but he knows he’ll feel it eventually. Maybe not tomorrow (today?) or even the next day - not with grief for Korosensei still so fresh in his heart. Eventually, though, he’ll replay his father’s confession and feel a blood boiling rage he won’t know what to do with. It’s what he’s been waiting for all these years: his father admitting he loved him, maybe even that he still loves him. It’s every wish he’s ever made since he was a little kid. He’ll feel angry and heartbroken all over again, and he won’t even have Korosensei to help him deal with it (and oh, that thought sends a fresh wave of grief over him, so powerful he almost drowns in it. He latches onto the numbness and sinks further into it. It’s safer there).

He isn’t angry now, though, just numb and a little sad. He lifts his chin from his knees and presses his face against them, wrapping the blanket even tighter around himself. He’s hiding - either from his father or the world in general. He doesn’t know for sure, and he doesn’t feel like analyzing it. 

“If you had told me that six years ago,” he says into his knees, muffled but still audible, “I would’ve forgiven you for anything.”

It’s the truth. Eight year old Karma would have done anything to hear that his father was sad he left, that he loved him enough to be sad. He would have let go of every bitter feeling in his heart and forgiven Gakuhou wholeheartedly for every misdeed. Eight year old Karma, he thinks, was an idiot. 

Not an idiot, a voice that sounds suspiciously like Nagisa chides. Just a child. Just a kid who wanted to hear that his father loved him. That’s not stupid. That’s just how kids are.

His father doesn’t say anything, but Karma didn’t really want him to anyway. They’ve both said their piece. It’s too late to change the past, and neither are even sure if they have a future. Sometimes it’s best to let sleeping dogs lie. 

His phone buzzes, but this time it keeps buzzing. Twisting his head to the side so his cheek is pressed against his legs, he checks it. It’s his mother. She’s here, presumably, and looking for him. Time to go. He sighs, letting his feet fall to the floor as he stands, the blanket sliding from his shoulders and landing in a heap on his empty chair. He answers the call.

“Hi, mom,” he murmurs as he walks away. “I’m on my way out now.”

He doesn’t say goodbye.

[batarella]

The Commander - Part 5 (Arkham Knight x Reader)

ATTENTION ALL PASSENGERS ABOARD THE SMUT TRAIN. YA’LL NASTIES NEED A BREAK FROM ALL THE SMUT. TODAY I PRESENT SOME ACTION, ANGST, MORE BACKSTORY, AND FLUFFFFFFFFFF

WORDS: 3034 (yeah they’re getting longer) WARNINGS: A LIL BIT OF FLUFF AT THE END. MOSTLY ANGST.

MASTERLIST

THE COMMANDER - MASTERLIST

-----

The Arkham Knight couldn’t be human. He only ever spoke in the fewest words. And when he did, it was either in the coldest indifference, annoyance, or anger. Mostly in anger. His identity, his past, what he liked and didn’t liked, no one knew about.

In fact, the Commander seen the most about him out of everyone the Knight meets in the Militia. And she doesn’t even know if he had a real name. He was only addressed to as the Knight, and his anger had been built up since he was very young, the Commander deduced. His remarks came out of him like it was in his nature to be an asshole at times. But she could tell it had evolved overtime. Like something brought out the worst of him and now he was this dark, cynical entity no one can touch.

Though she wasn’t any different, basically torn out of her mother’s womb and brought to a firing range.

Gotham City was never kind to her. And her to Gotham. They’d reached the top of a medium rise apartment building, one that stood directly across some kind of event that had people flocking to the edges of the street. The Arkham Knight hid his armor under a large red hoodie, making him look bigger than he already was. He had his hood on over a cap, so no one could see his face. Beside him was Militia Commander Y/N. She had on a bomber jacket and some loose cargo pants to hide her own suit.

They eyed the GCPD police car parked just outside the event grounds, and about three policemen scattered about to maintain its order. One of them was leaning against the hood of the car. The second one, a very heavy man, was standing right in front of the crowd at the stage. The third was at the farthest, making rounds around the perimeter.

The Knight watched the three move, blurring out the cheering crowd and the noises they made. The Commander waited, patiently.

The Arkham Knight’s voice was course. “Go.”

She moved fast, leaping from the top of the roof down its rusty fire escape. Her feet landed from ladder to ladder until it splashed onto a puddle left over from last night’s rain. Commander Y/N made her way down the crowd, keeping her head low as she practically disappeared.

She could only fire from this distance. The Commander had three shots, and a special gun that wrapped around her wrist. All she had to do was press the button on her thumb, and it would fire just as good as any pistol.

Except this one fired more than just bullets, and it was more silent than even a whisper.

One on the car to her right, one at the stage in front, and one at the far back.

At the corner of her eye, she saw the Knight behind the crowd, his hood covering more than half his face. His eyes were on her, waiting.

He nodded.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

She raised her arm, staring to pull her hair to a tie. It pointed right at her right and she fired.

One.

She turned, so casually it was like the sun had just caught her eyes. Her arm facing behind her, she fired again.

Two.

Then her hair was in a ponytail, she smoothed it, then brought her arms to her front. Just narrowly missing a passerby, she fired.

Three.

Done. She caught the Knight’s eye. Three trackers landed right at the three policemen’s communication devices peeking just outside their pockets. It was too small to even make out, but the Knight’s hacking device lit up, and they were online.

He toyed with the device, small enough to fit his pocket. The Knight looked like he was just using his phone, even when it wasn’t a good idea to do so in such a crowd. Commander Y/N kept on the lookout, but none of the policemen seem to be bothered.

Hurry up. The Knight continued to fidget. Y/N squeezed on her wrist gun, ready to fire at any threat. A full minute had passed and the Knight threw his head back. He nodded at her. They’d done it.

They hacked GCPD.

Just those three trackers were enough to trace the full source of any communication network GCPD had used. When the night comes, they’ll be ahead of these men by a mile.

Though GCPD was never the real threat.

Commander Y/N nodded back and walked toward the Knight. He handed her the hacking device, which was lit in green.

“Send it to intelligence when we’re back.”

“Yes sir,” she said, stuffing it into her pocket.

Then the Knight looked behind her, at the crowd and the stage in front. The noise had grown louder and a man, the billionaire Bruce Wayne walked to the podium, a bright smile on his handsome face as he spoke.

“Come on,” she said to the Knight. “Slade’s sent the first of our Diamondbacks.”

It took a while for him to look away, though the Knight didn’t look like he wanted to stick around to any more of the festivities. She walked right beside him, her hands relaxed to her side while the Knight kept his deep in his pockets. The sky looked just about as gloomy as the Knight’s expression, and it was freezing. No one looked at them as they turned into an alleyway.

“Just this one?”

“If you’re satisfied with it, another batch arrives tomorrow.”

Then they turned for an abandoned entrance into Gotham’s subway system. It was covered in wooden planks. The Knight tore it off with his bare hands. They jumped in, trying to ignore the smell, as they walked deeper into the tunnels. They were met with a closed gate, and a large circular scanner right at the center. The Knight pressed his palm against it and the gate opened.

The walked father in, the Knight took off his hoodie, then his pants, then he brought out his visor and placed it over his head. “We’re calling Slade.”

The Commander unzipped her jacket, then her loose pants took off to reveal the tighter one in her suit. It was even colder under the tunnels, but she didn’t falter. She followed closely by the Knight’s side, jumping over the old subway station’s portals down to the railway.

Just as they were met with a large figure covered by a dirty white cloth, the Knight pulled out a device from his bag.

It didn’t take long for Slade to answer. He was a holograph, his clothed mask floating above the screen laid flat with the Knight’s hand.

“Where is it?”

“Right here,” The Knight pointed the device to the covered drone. “Commander.”

Commander Y/N jumped to the railway and pulled the cloth off, revealing the finally finished, ready to deploy Diamondback Drone.

“She’s a good lookin’ piece of boom, wouldn’t you say?” Slade’s voice echoed into the tunnels. “Commander Y/N, why don’t you go test it out?”

She climbed up its side. “Were the steering and thrust issues worked out?” said the Knight.

“Nope.”

“Slade, I told you maneuverability and speed are key if these are going to have a chance against his weaponry.”

“Commander, fire at the wall.”

The Commander grabbed hold of its missile launcher and fired.

And it was more like a bomb than a missile, and several shots of it. It tore off what was left of the abandoned cement, spreading its fire around the railway and leaving large holes big enough for a man to crawl in on its walls.

Commander Y/N didn’t look flustered. She wiped the flash of sweat off her forehead and turned to the Knight, who stared intently at the destroyed walls. “Say the word, and I’ll send out a hundred of these. More than enough to take the bastard down.

“More than enough to send your demons free,” Slade said. The Knight seemed preoccupied, and he didn’t flinch when the Commander jumped off the tank.

“Commander Y/N,” Slade said as she approached the Knight’s side. “I’m about to start the final phase of our men’s training.”

“Final phase?”

“I have my standards, you have yours. The way you train these men are different from mine. It shouldn’t take more than a week.”

Commander Y/N nodded, surprised Slade didn’t have to insult her when they’d constantly have to fight over the Knight’s graces when it comes to their preferences.

“Make sure they’re ready for anything he has to throw at us, Slade,” he said to the hologram. Then Slade was gone, and the tunnel seemed emptier with the fires burning out.

The Commander placed her hand on the drone’s side. “It fired three rounds at a time, and its fast. Exactly like the Rattler but it will be harder to deflect.”

“Will that be enough?”

She goes to the front, inspects the damage and looks into the holes. She reaches in, but the missiles have reached too far back. “It should be. This ones’ harder to destroy than all our Rattler drones. Three sensor arrays and a more durable shield over its optics.”

The Knight turned to her as she went on.

“But it doesn’t lock onto its target. The Cobra drones would be a better investment. Even if we had half the number of Rattlers, the Cobras won't have Batman driving around any of the streets without having to encounter one or two.”

“We have enough of those.”

“Never enough to cover even one of the islands by themselves, especially when no 60 mm canon can penetrate its shell. These ones have a larger target right at its sensors.”

The Knight stood directly in front of the drone’s sensor array, with the Commander, running her hands on the right side.

“How old are you?”

The Commander stopped, but didn’t allow herself to flinch. She looked at the Knight puzzlingly and narrowed her eyebrows.

“You know just as much as Slade does.”

“More,” she interrupted. “I know more.”

“Answer my question.”

“What difference does it make?” The Commander sighed, as she circled the tank, keeping her hand to its side. The Knight kept his distance, but followed her. His robotic voice made his questions seem more threatening than personal. She was at the other side, to the left of the drone, when she spoke.

“Twenty-one.”

The Knight came up to the corner, and the Commander reached the front. She turned again and avoided the look on his visor.

“How old were you when you knew how to fire a tank?”

She kept her voice low. This was worse than being screamed at. “Fifteen.”

The Knight didn’t show his surprise, but his silence spoke the volumes for him. “Who trained you?”

“My uncle.”

“When did he start training you?”

“When did this become an interrogation?”

The Knight stopped, and so did the Commander. The stood at either sides of the drone, right at its hood. She stared at him, and he stared back.

“I want to know how you were bred into… this.”

“I fired my first gun when I was five and hit my first target with a rifle when I was seven.” Her voice was expressionless, like he had told these to herself more than to anyone else.

“Your uncle was quite the mercenary.”

“Oh, he was the best,” she said. “But he killed his first target at twenty-two. I was sixteen.”

That… didn’t impress him as much as it saddened him.

“I didn’t have any business being a child. He turned me into this… machine,” she brought her hands to the hood of the tank. “One that just can't miss a single target even if I wanted to.”

“And you turned to sex to air it out.”

The Commander looked up, almost glaring at him. Why the fuck was he asking these questions.

“I’ve only had it a few times,” she said, walking to his side. Then she leaned in, even closer to the Knight. He had his head slightly turned to her when she spoke. “I’ve had it with you the most.”

The Knight didn’t say anything when she walked by him and headed for the exit, grabbing her own bag from the floor. The Knight quietly followed, getting his clothes back out and stuffing his visor inside before they stepped out the subway station.

“We have about three hours,” she told him as they walked down the sidewalk. The noises sank in and she spoke louder. “Then we head for the Batcave before he goes out for patrol, which should be around 10.”

The Knight placed his cap on his head, then pulled his hoodie up. They turned to a corner, back to where the rally had taken place, except the people had left and the sun had started to set. They walked to their motorcycles. “We can wait it out in the cave.”

The Knight approached his bike, but watched as Y/N grabbed her helmet and started the engine. “Wait.”

Commander Y/N stopped.

He took his out his comms, fidgeted with the device and held the earpiece to his ear. It took a while, then the person on the other line answered.

“Slade,” he said. “I’ll have to spend another night in Gotham.”

He turned around, walking farther away so she wouldn’t be staring at him while he talked.

“I’ll be back in less than 48 hours. And it’s a go on the Diamondback, but have more Cobra Drones as well.”

She heard Slade’s voice for a moment. “As much as you can,” the Knight finished. He turned off his comms, then went for his bike.

“Follow me,” he said, taking his hat off and putting on his helmet.

They drove off, and they were going further and further away from where their target supposedly is. The bikes buzzed through, her driving closely at his tail until they’d reached a street littered with no more than five people.

And the buildings were abandoned, boarded up the front entrance. The Commander saw a few homeless men by the alleys, but it didn’t even look like thugs frequented the area. She followed him as they parked their bikes near a dumpster at the back of the building.

“Where are we?”

“We need to go up the fire exit.” The Knight pulled down the ladder. “I used to live here.”

“Go up the third floor, then go in through the window. Stay there. I’ll come back.”

The Commander was still so confused, even as the Knight had started his bike again and drove off.

Xxxxxx

His place was… small.

It must have been years, because there was enough dust to on the surfaces to cause tears in her eyes. Timidly, she sat on the bed. There was only one. Twin size. Pushed up against the wall. He had a desk adjacent to it, and on the other side, the window she came in through. Other than the cramped up bathroom and a closet, that was practically it in his apartment.

But the Knight was still so young. She estimated this place to have been abandoned for five to seven years. If that was the case, he should have been in his early teens, living alone without a parent. Was she right?

She leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes. Minutes later, she heard the ladders of the fire exit screech. The Knight walked in.

He was holding two pizza boxes.

“Dinner,” he said. “Bottoms up.”

The commander suddenly felt the surge in her stomach. She’d forgotten to eat. She stood, opened a box and helped herself with a slice.

“Why are we here?”

The Knight ignored her and went to the bathroom. It took a while, probably because he had to clean it before even using it. When he stepped out, he looked less bulky. His armor was placed inside his duffel bag which he placed on the floor, before grabbing a slice from the box and digging in.

It was… unusual. To say the least. Y/N’s almost never seen the Knight talk outside the subject of the militia, let alone eat. He leaned his back against the desk, looking at her as he took a big bite. They ate quietly, not even taking a seat when they finished through the two boxes before the sun had fully set.

She slumped back on the bed. “We should head out by now.”

The Knight closed the boxes and threw them in the trash. Then he leaned on the desk, arms over his chest. He didn’t look at her.

“We’re staying here for the night, then we head for the cave tomorrow at dusk.”

“What are we supposed to do by then?”

The Knight licked his lips.

“I know you don’t sleep,” he said. “Back in the barracks.”

“Yes I do.”

“You sleep almost an hour a day,” he cocked his jaw. “Every single day.”

The Commander couldn’t even fathom his concern. This was all too much. “I’m fine.”

“You have tonight, and the whole day tomorrow. I won't wake you up. You sleep as much as you can. When we go back to South America you’ll never catch a break.”

She grew silent and licked her teeth.

“Where will you sleep?”

The Knight stood from the desk, went to his closet and fished out a sheet and a pillow. “I’ll be fine on the floor.”

Fucking hell.

His concern just made her all the more uncomfortable. Just yesterday, you couldn’t tell the man apart from an AI robot.

And the night grew darker. She laid on her back, the sheet dusted off shielding her off from the cold. The Knight faced away from her and laid flat on the carpet. His chest rose a steady beat. But he was awake.

“Can you tell me your name?” she asked. “And how old you are?”

He was startled, but he didn’t turn to look at her. An answer wasn’t the least bit expected. Never from him. But surprisingly, she heard his voice, low enough for it to be easily missed.

“Twenty-two.”

And that was all he said. She turned facing the wall and closed her eyes.

 I LOVE YOU ALL. LEAVE A COMMENT IF YOU CAN. I’D LOVE TO HEAR YOUR THOUGHTS

-----

THE COMMANDER - MASTERLIST

-----

  Taglist: @sarcasmismyfirstlove @damned-queen-of-gotham @idkmanicantenglish @wunderstell @birdy-bat-riya @get-loki @everyday-imfangirling @comic-nerd-dc @multifandoms916 @icequeen208 @offendedfishnoises @egdolan @xemiefx @arkhamtoddler @elsenthal @mythicbitchx @supremehaunter

[melodiouswhite]

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde rewritten - Ch. 61

Chapter Sixty-One: Everyday life

.

“Ah, Dr. Faust!”, Dr. Lanyon said, “You're here for your appointment?”

“No, I want to learn how to dance ballet”, the German doctor retorted sarcastically.

Lanyon mock-gasped: “What, you can't dance ballet???”

“I don't need it in my everyday life, so why would I learn it?”

“Point taken. Do sit down. So, tell me, how have you been?”

The alchemist arched an eyebrow. “Do you want a typically English answer, or-?”

“An honest one.”

“Breathing is unusually hard lately”, Dr. Faust told him. “Must be the asthma and the permanent after-effects from smoke poisoning.”

“If you don't mind, smoke poisoning from what?”, Lanyon queried.

“The Thirty Years War. Everything was on fire back then. Then there were the witch hunts – I can't even remember how many times they tried to burn me at the stake.”

“Oh my god!”

“The 17th century was that brutal, Dr. Lanyon. Don't mind it.”

“But I do!”, Lanyon protested. “And don't act so nonchalant! If you're not traumatised after those horrible experiences of war, I seriously have to question your humanity!”

Dr. Faust sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose: “It's long in the past. And I'd rather not talk about it to you. I may be able to look into your mind and hear your thoughts, but that doesn't change the fact, that I hardly know you.”

Trust issues. That was something Lanyon was more than familiar with.

“You're right”, he gave in. “Let's talk about it no longer. Right now, the more pressing issue is the surgery.”

.

Lady Summers was filing her therapy protocols.

A tedious task, but it had to be done.

More than often it took hours to sort everything into her abundant folders, of which some were thicker than the others. The countess always sorted her folders alphabetically and the protocols and notes inside them chronologically.

The one she was working on right now was the newest folder of her friend Victor Frankenstein – it was one of the biggest ones in her archive. After all, he had been alive for almost 130 years, she had known him for over forty years and the man had a lot of issues, some of them impossible to get rid of. Victor was a complete mess (and kind of a tool) and most of it he had brought upon himself. Sometimes Lady Summers couldn't help but question, why they were still friends. Probably pity and a tad of sympathy – they had been through the same torture all those years ago.

With a sigh, she finished filing the newest of her notes and protocols. She would need a new folder for Victor's case and he already had six of them.

All of her friends had several folders, even Dr. Jekyll, who had been her client for only a few months (then again, he had more problems than most of her clients).

Lady Summers closed the file, put it back into the shelf, went downstairs and prepared to go out.

It was Monday evening, when she would habitually visit the local police stations and prisons.

Not because she liked going there, but because the police liked to spare themselves the trouble of actually doing research by employing her mind-reading abilities. They tipped her handsomely for her service and that was the only reason, why she cooperated with them.

But that didn't stop Lady Summers from taking her frustration out on them for not using their own brains. Really, was it too much to ask, that they just did their job and deduced their cases without the help of a civilian?!

Her butler helped her into her jacket, cloak and shoes, Aoimoku handed her her parasol and they went on their way.

Marie would handle everything in the meantime.

When the three arrived there, Lady Summers gave a curt nod to the porter, before entering the building.

Almost everyone in the room turned to look at her and there was some mumbling from one or the other.

“Good evening, inspector Grumman”, she greeted the oldest of them.

Then she turned to the youngest man in the room: “I see, you're new. Well, good evening, officer Joyce. I hope your wife is feeling better?”

She almost laughed at how the young man stared at her for solid five seconds.

But then he recovered: “U-uhm, yes. M-my wife is feeling better, thank you. But how did you know my name and that she was sick?”

She smiled sweetly: “I'm Lady Summers. It's a pleasure to meet you. Anyway, inspector”, she turned back to Grumman. “I assume you have new-”

“Oh, good evening, Lady Summers!” Another inspector stepped forward and she withheld a groan, when she recognised D.I. Blackwood.

“How good to see you, Milady! If I may say, that's an exquisite dress! You look queenly toni-”

“Yes, yes”, she interrupted him, “words are cheap and so are your attempts at flattery. Let's get started, shall we?”

.

“Thank you so much for your time, Dr. Jekyll”, the woman sighed in relief. “You truly are one of the best physicians I have ever met.”

“Oh, stop it, Madam!”, Jekyll chuckled. “One of these days the flattery will get to my head and I can't possibly let that happen! Who knows, what that would do to my judgement! Anyway, you don't need to worry. It's just a common cold. Be sure to keep warm, drink lots of herbal infusions (peppermint, sage, lavender and ginger, mixed with honey, do a world of good against a sore throat), rest as much as you can and be sure to air the room regularly. But if it gets worse, be sure to send for me. Have a good day and get well soon!”

The woman nodded and saw herself out.

Jekyll took five minutes to air the room, before calling the next patient in.

“Good morning, Mr. Blake”, he greeted the man. “Oh dear, I see the pollen season is taking its toll on you.”

Before the man could answer, he sneezed violently into the room.

The Doctor couldn't help but frown. “Mr. Blake, how many times do I have to tell you to please sneeze into a handkerchief or into the crook of your elbow! It's common decency!”, he added pointedly, when the old man opened his mouth to nag.

This is going to be a long, long, week.

.

“Alright, Sir Carew”, Utterson spoke to his elderly client. “Is there anything more you have to discuss with me?”

“No, no”, the old politician chuckled. “This is all for now. Thank you kindly, Mr. Utterson. You're always such a big help.”

“It's always my pleasure”, the lawyer replied. “Before you go, I heard that you're going to retire from the Parliament?”

“Ah, yes”, Sir Carew confirmed. “I'm beginning to feel my age, I must admit. I'm planning to retire into the country, once I am retired and my daughter has got married. And once that day comes, I would be happy, if you could assist me in ordering my possessions.”

“I will gladly do so”, Utterson promised. “How is your daughter anyway?”

Carew smiled: “Ah, she is as darling as ever. To be fair, it worries me how many suitors she has. You can never know, if they just want your daughter for her beauty, if they truly love her.”

“Well, I have no children, so I can't really relate”, Utterson stated.

For a second he wondered how an old man like Sir Danvers Carew could have such a young daughter (she was not quite twenty), but then he remembered, that Carew had adopted her.

Maybe my own memory is getting rusty.

“By the way, how is Lady Summers?”, Carew inquired out of the blue, startling the other. “After all, she was quite ill used at the royal gala over a month ago.”

“Oh. Her Ladyship is fine”, Utterson told him. “In fact, she visited her father-in-law in Cornwall earlier this month. She returned to London a week ago, you can visit her yourself, if you wish. I'm certain she will be delighted to have tea and crumpets with you.”

“Oh, wonderful”, the older man cried in delight. “Really, that baron was such an animal towards her! She could have died from internal injuries!”

“Hm, she had the good fortune of several capable physicians being there as well”, the lawyer pointed out (wishing Carew would stop talking about that accursed gala already).

“Indeed. The Lady always had fortune on her side – then again, fortune favours the bold. And speaking of them, how are they? I seem to recall, that they are intimate friends of yours?”

“You could say that”, Utterson confirmed, albeit apprehensively. “We have known each other since our school days, so we're very close.”

“Well, give them my regards and my thanks for being such good friends to you and to the countess. And while you're at that, won't you give my thanks to that young brown-haired man, who saved my daughter from that scoundrel's clutches? What was his name again …”

“Mr. Hyde”, the lawyer supplied.

“Right! Anyway, give him and Dr. Jekyll my thanks. As Lisa's father it put me quite at ease to see two gentlemen help my daughter out without ulterior motives.”

Utterson nodded. “I will let them know next time I meet them. Have a nice evening, Sir.”

Then he saw his client off.

He didn't ask, whether Carew remembered, that Hyde was the very same man, who had almost killed him the year before and if yes, how he was feeling about that.

I will just have to ask Lady Summers, he decided. I pray she will be willing to enlighten me, because something about this is making me anxious.

[sanderssidesfanfiction]

If There’s a Place I Could Be - Chapter Twenty Eight

If There’s a Place I Could Be Tag

March 25th, 1999

“Toby?” Remy asked.

“Yeah, Rem?” Toby asked, and Remy’s heart ached at the familiar nickname.

“Why don’t you write anymore?” Remy asked. “You would write all the time before Christmas, but now it’s Spring Break and you haven’t even written once!”

“Oh...uh...” Toby cleared his throat. “I just thought our parents knew you better than I would, since I’m not here, you know? And I trusted their judgement, and...yeah, I didn’t want you to obsess over the letters.”

“I don’t obsess over the letters!” Remy objected. “They help me get through the rough patches, yeah, but I don’t obsess over them! Haven’t you gotten any of my letters?”

Toby tilted his head to the side. “You’ve been sending letters?”

Remy felt a little piece of him die inside. “I bet Mom’s been stopping the mailman from sending them to you somehow,” he grumbled.

“What?” Toby asked.

“Never mind,” Remy said. “You can just...not write. I won’t bug you about it again.”

“Remy...”

But Remy was already running up the stairs to hide in his room.

  April 27th, 2001

Remy woke up the morning after his mother showed up with a pit of dread in his stomach. It was barely dawn yet, and Remy crept out of his room to the living room where there were two windows which looked out to the parking lot below. He peeked out of one of them, and sure enough, he could recognize the shape of his parents’ sedan, sitting on the edge of the street. He couldn’t see his mother inside, but as long as the car was nearby, she was around. He snuck over to Emile’s room and was barely inside the door before Emile was grumbling and sitting up. “Remy, what time is it?”

“It’s early, I know,” Remy said, wincing. “But my mother is outside.”

“She’s what,” Emile said. Fury entered his voice as he declared, “I’m calling the cops.”

“No! Don’t! Please!” Remy exclaimed. “I swear she’s not that bad! If I just talk to her for five minutes she’ll leave! We can go out together if you want, but we don’t need to call the cops!”

“Remy,” Emile growled. “She’s terrorizing you, and stalking you. That’s not okay. I’m calling the cops.”

“Emile, please!” Remy begged. “You don’t have to do that!”

“Yes I do!” Emile practically bellowed.

Remy jumped a good six inches and all the blood drained from his face. Emile’s eyes widened and he stood, approaching Remy, but Remy just backed out of the room before running to his own, closing it with his whole body and trying to keep his breathing steady. Emile and Kim had both taught him techniques that could keep his breathing calm and even, but they didn’t seem to be working right now. All he could focus on was Emile’s yelling, echoing over and over in his head. His face was on fire as tears scorched his cheeks, and Emile was knocking on Remy’s door. “Remy! Remy, I’m sorry, please, let me in!”

Remy whimpered and pressed his hands against his ears. Much as he would love to let Emile in, he was also terrified that if he did so, he would be in massive trouble. He had spoken out of turn, he had argued against what Emile wanted, and Emile had gotten angry because of it. That usually meant the second Remy gave in, he’d be getting at least an earful, if not someone unintentionally hurting him.

There was a pounding at the front door, and Remy flinched. Was his mother making a reappearance this early? It was probably barely six in the morning! Footsteps went to the front door, opened it, and there was rushed mumbling that Remy couldn’t make out. He strained to listen closer, and heard words such as “abduction” and “search” and “press charges.”

Remy’s breathing wasn’t getting any better. He buried his head in his knees. If his mother had gone to the police claiming he had been kidnapped...he was going to throttle someone.

Emile yelped and then there was more knocking at Remy’s bedroom door. “Mister Picani?” a gruff voice asked.

“If my mother is the one who called you, I’m not leaving this room!” Remy screamed, voice cracking. “I’m a grown-ass man, she cannot dictate my life!”

“Son, we need you to come with us,” the man said. “You’re safe, you don’t have to lie to anyone about how old you are.”

Remy growled and moved away from the door, grabbing his wallet from his nightstand and pulling out his ID from one of the front pockets. He opened the door an inch and saw a heavily-built man on the other side, wearing a police uniform. He offered his ID out. “I’m of legal age,” he snapped. “I don’t know what my mother told you, but this is my ID.”

The policeman took it, examined it closely, and scrutinized Remy. “You still need to come with us, son,” he said.

“On what grounds?!” Remy snapped. “No, seriously, on what grounds?! Am I not allowed to split rent with Emile over there?” he asked, nodding to his boyfriend. “Am I legally required to go to college? Are you a truancy officer?” He huffed, “I don’t care what my mother told you, I’m not. Going. Anywhere.”

“We need to verify your age, Mister Picani, and ensure that this isn’t a fake ID,” the officer said.

“Okay, I don’t know what my mother told you—”

“—You’re not coming with us,” the officer finished, grabbing Remy roughly by the arm. “Kid, I’ll handcuff you if I have to.”

“Bite me,” Remy huffed, trying to wrench his arm free.

The officer’s nostrils flared as he asked, “Care to repeat that comment?”

“Remy. Remy!” Emile exclaimed, from where he was barricaded from moving by another officer. “Don’t fight back on this one, I’ll come pick you up from the station as soon as they realize your mother was lying about you being seventeen and a runaway.”

Remy bared his teeth at the officer. “I’m a grown-ass man! You can’t tell me that you seriously believe I’m seventeen!”

“I’ve seen kids taller than you at sixteen,” the officer replied. “March.”

Remy was dragged, kicking and screaming, out of his apartment and into a waiting patrol car. He was unceremoniously thrown in the back, and he fumed in silence all the way to the station. When he was dragged into the station, his mother was waiting for him, and judging by her face she had been crying to some officer or another. “Remy!” she exclaimed, rushing over and trying to hug him.

“Get off me!” Remy exclaimed, shoving her away. “Why would you leave your car outside Emile’s apartment complex and come to the police claiming I was a minor?!”

His mother stared at him in shock, and he just kept his arms crossed, and his teeth bared. “An explanation would be nice,” he threw the words back in her face.

“Remy, you of all people should know that you can’t run away from your responsibilities!” his mother chided. “Your father and I were so worried!”

“Of course you would see it that way,” Remy breathed, before laughing. “Bite me, mother! I’m nineteen years old, I know what I’m doing with my life, and you are not going to be a part of it!”

His mother turned on the waterworks and suddenly everyone in the station was glaring at him. His mother kept wailing and trying to hug him and he kept shoving her away until the officers who had brought him in dragged him to a holding cell, presumably to stop a fight in the front. It wasn’t the classiest place he had ever been in, but it was away from his mother, so he could relax just a little bit. Two other guys were in there with him, one who looked like he was recovering from a bender, and another who Remy had no idea what he might be here for, but who had tattoo sleeves all up and down both arms. “Nice tats,” he said.

The man tilted his chin up at Remy. “Thanks. You mind my asking why you’re here?”

“My mother’s a nut job?” Remy laughed incredulously. “Claimed I was seventeen and a runaway because I dropped out of college and didn’t call her over Christmas.”

The man roared with laughter, causing the drunk to glare at the both of them. “Wow. That’s...certainly something,” the man said. “I’m here because my girlfriend and I got in a fight, and I was angry enough and stupid enough to punch the cop trying to get in between us.”

Remy grimaced. “Ouch.”

“Tell me about it,” the man said. “I really hope they just give me a fine and not, like, jail time.”

“Me too,” Remy said. “My...my friend and I got in a fight this morning too, before the cops showed up at our door.”

“Your...friend?” the man asked.

“Well, yeah. He and I split rent. We’re having some issues and frequent arguments about keeping the place clean, but at the end of the day, he’s still a friend. It’s just hard to remember that sometimes.” Remy leaned against the wall and sighed. “But my mother likes to ruin everything good I ever find for myself in the world, if it doesn’t fit her vision of what she wants for me.”

The man winced. “Oh, she’s one of those,” he said with distaste. “I hate those. The kind where if you so much as bring up getting a tattoo, they’ll start screaming that you’re ruining your life, that this isn’t what you want when in reality it isn’t what they want. I hate those types.”

“Mhm,” Remy hummed. “She’s... the worst.”

“You look beat, kid,” the man said.

“I look how I feel, then,” Remy mumbled.

The man checked by the door but no one was standing there. “You should probably get some rest, kid, especially if your mom tries to get to you.”

“Like I could sleep when she knows where I live,” he laughed.

The man shook his head. “I know it seems like the end of the world, but if you make it clear you want nothing to do with her, sooner or later she’ll back off.”

“You’ve clearly never met her,” Remy sighed. But even as he said it, he was already drifting off to sleep from exhaustion.

When he next woke up, it was to the door of the holding cell opening with a screech. “Mister Picani,” an officer regarded him coolly. “Please come with me.”

Remy stood and followed, somewhat confused. He was led to the lobby, and handed his ID. Both Emile and his mother were waiting for him on opposite sides of the lobby, and the officer said. “The ID is legitimate. Our apologies for disrupting your morning.” And with that, the officer left.

Emile and his mother were both starting to talk to him at once, but Remy just watched the police officer leave. When he couldn’t even pretend to be distracted anymore he sighed, looked between them, and winced as he realized he was still in his pajamas and had no shoes, and he’d have to walk outside like this. He held up a hand and Emile paused in his tidal wave of apologies, but his mother was still going on her tirade. He sighed and gave Emile a look that roughly equated to do you see what I have to deal with? and Emile snorted, nodding.

His mother paused at that, looking between the two of them. Remy took the opportunity to say, “Yeah, I’m going back to Emile’s place, Mom, and there’s nothing you can do about that. I’m not going home with you, I’m not doing whatever you want me to do to ‘redeem’ myself in your eyes, and you can’t stop me.”

“You’ll never get Tobias’ number,” his mother threatened.

Remy laughed, and even though it felt painfully fake to him, his mother looked shocked. “Oh, I doubt that Toby would even want me calling him, Mom. After all, I only ever pestered him about everything, isn’t that what you said?”

Emile visibly twitched, fingers clenching and unclenching in a strangling motion at his sides.

“Don’t bother either of us again, Mom, Emile needs his time to study and I need to actually work if I want to uphold my half of rent,” he said. “Come on, Emile, let’s go. I still need to get my shoes from yours.”

Emile looked down, seemed to notice Remy’s bare feet for the first time, and snickered as he said, “Yeah, I can’t imagine walking around barefoot is accepted at work. Let’s go.”

They walked out of the station in minorly strained silence. “I’m really sorry for yelling,” Emile said once they were in his car.

“It is what it is,” Remy said with a shrug. “Not like I’m going to break up with you over it.”

“Remy, I traumatized you. I...that’s not okay,” Emile said, glancing over at Remy.

Remy shrugged. “Don’t worry about it, Emile,” Remy said. “Give me some time and I’ll forgive you. It will take time, but provided you’re willing to give it to me...”

“Of course,” Emile said.

“Then it’s no worries,” Remy said. He bit his lip. “I really wish I could call Toby.”

“I’m sure you guys will find each other one day,” Emile said. “I doubt he’d just...give up on seeing you ever again.”

“I hope you’re right,” Remy mumbled, moping as he stared out the car window. “I just...could really use his support right about now.”

[captaincvans]

Chapter Three: Tear Me to Pieces

11/01/19

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Word Count: 2502+

Warnings: Language; Panic Attack; Angst; Angry!Chris; Sad!Chris

Series Masterpost

A/N: I think I’ll stick with posting biweekly (once every two weeks) as it seems to fit my schedule most. It’s been tough trying to fit writing in with my grad school, but I am trying to balance everything! You get an extra long chapter though! I hope you enjoy and pleaseee lemme know what you think! I appreciate every comment, ask about this fic 💕

“I don’t know what to do, mom,” Chris cried on the phone. He was desperate for some answers as the feeling of dread took over his heart. His career and his personal life has what he felt like being destroyed in a matter of weeks, and he was overwhelmed with so many emotions. 

“Oh, sweetie. I’m so sorry that you’re going through all of this,” Lisa immediately cooed sympathetically. “Have you been able to see Jenna at all?” With them being so close, it was no surprise that Lisa knew the name of Chris’s therapist back in Boston. Chris had actually gone to a couple of sessions with his father, wanting to mend a few troubles the two had in a safe place. 

There was a beat of silence, and he answered with a small, “No.” 

“Oh, it’s okay, baby. Do you want me to book you an appointment with her?” Lisa was worried that Chris hadn’t been seeing anyone throughout this whole ordeal. She could tell how overwhelmed he was, and she knew he needed someone more than her at this moment. 

“S’okay. I’ll call her tonight.” 

Her heart was breaking at the sound of his defeated voice, the 38 year-old sounding more like a child, and it pulled at her heartstring. “Okay. Text me when you’re going. I’ll come by and drop you off. We can make a whole adventure out of it.”

“Okay,” he said quietly, saying goodbye to his mother before ending the call. He made an appointment with Jenna, who scheduled him in for the next day, hearing the gravity of the situation. A text pinged on his phone not long after, his personal assistant, John Diangelo, asking if he can come by. He texted back with a ‘yes’, needing a friend through this all and wanting to inform John of his manager’s crime. 

Chris sat on his couch, Dodger in the crate sensing the tension in the house. He sat there, numb and broken. It could’ve been hours and he wouldn’t have realized. The only thing that got him out of his reverie was the knock on the door. With drawn out, sluggish movements, he got to the door, opening to reveal his sympathetic PA. 

“How are you holding up, brother?” the Kansas-born man asked with a soft smile. 

“I don’t know, John. I really don’t know,” Chris whispered, sitting down on his couch with his head in his hands. “I don’t know what to do.” 

“Take it one day at a time. It’s all you can do,” he said, running his hand through his ginger hair. “Has the police found anything?”

“It was Daniel. He’s the one stealing money from me.”

“Holy shit,” John cursed, leaning on the wall behind Chris. 

“And while we were talking to him, he said someone else was involved.”

“Who?” John asked urgently, eyes wide in concern and anticipation. 

“Y/N.”

“No fucking way,” John muttered, his voice coming out breathier than usual. 

Chris shook his head. “I can’t believe this. I just can’t believe this. I was going to propose,” he confessed. 

John was at a loss of words, not knowing how to comfort the man. Anything he said would sound ingenuine. “It’ll get better, brother. At least you found out sooner than later.” 

“I guess so,” Chris mumbled. He blinked a few times, his red-rimmed eyes hurting with every blink. “I’m gonna go pack up her stuff.”

“Do you need any help?”

“No, it’s alright. I can pack’em myself.” 

“Okay. I can take her stuff down once you’re finished with them, and let her know they’re ready for her to pick up if you want?”

“That would be great. Thank you, John.” With robotic movements, Chris went to the bedroom he once shared with the love of his life, and started packing. 

Six Months Later

The investigation slowed down a bit as they kept hitting roadblocks with the press. It became a more high profile case, and the attention it received hindered people from doing their job as they were harassed by the press. They were relentless once they caught a whiff of the drama unfolding in Chris’s life. He tried to keep the issue as private as possible, but it was hard to when there were so many moving parts involved- from the fraud investigators, the police officers in charge of his case, and Kevin and his accounting firm that is doing a complete audit of Chris’s finances. There were a lot of people involved, one of the was bound to sell the story to the press. 

Captain America Breaks Up with Girlfriend Over Money?

Chris Evan’s Girlfriend a Gold Digger?

Chris Evan Found to Have Fired Manager Over Fraud

Headline after headline, they wrote it all. Rumours and assumptions being thrown around, and articles that were only half truth. With the leaks of the news, there was another investigation launched to find the person who was leaking Chris’s personal information to the public. Chris couldn’t go anywhere without being followed by the press. He hired bodyguards for himself and his family, hating the fact that they were victims to his problems. 

It marked the 25th week of the investigation, the end was almost in sight. One of the newly hired fraud investigators was caught selling information to the press, and was quickly fired from the company. Everyone else had to sign a tighter non-disclosure form that was created by Chris’s legal team. 

It was a gloomy Friday, the rainy day finally easing up as peak summer hit the town of Massachusetts. Chris just finished his daily morning walk with Dodger, hating the humid rain as much as his little dog did. Scott was staying at his place for a few days, trying to distract him from it all, and trying to pull him back out of his isolation. His usual goofy self was nowhere to be seen as he became paranoid of the next person to take advantage of him. Aside from his family, he’s been ignoring a lot of his friends, and only recently gotten back in touch with them. 

Just as he finally cooled down from the AC in his house, his phone rang. 

“Hey Jason, what’s up?”

“We got some new information. Do you mind coming by the station?”

Chris sighed, rubbing his forehead. It seems like he couldn’t catch a break with all the information that was hitting him. 

“Chris? You okay?”

“Yea, yea. Sorry. Just got distracted for a bit- I can be there in half an hour or so.” 

“Alright. See you soon.” 

“You good?” Scott asked, entering the kitchen as Chris was finishing up his call. Dodger happily jumped towards him, begging to be given attention which he happily gave. 

“Yea. Jason just said they have more information and needed me to come down.”

“Want me to come with you?”

He gave a non-committal shrug. 

“Alright. Lemme just get changed, and we can go.” 

The two brothers met up with Jason and Diana Bass, she was in charge of the whole investigation and was working closely with Jason to finish everything in a timely matter. They walked to a small meeting room, both brothers refusing any refreshments as the tension built in the room. 

“While we were investigation Y/N, we found something else,” Jason said, his eyebrows pulled together anxiously. 

“What is it?” 

“We investigated all of Y/N’s accounts, and we did not find any extra deposits. Instead, we found monthly withdrawals. We followed the money, and it was going to an account created by John Diangelo, your personal assistant.”

“Fuck! Him too?” Scott growled, putting a hand on his brother’s shoulder for solidarity. 

Dianna nodded sympathetically. “Unfortunately, he seemed to be the mastermind of the whole operation. We went through his files and exchanges with Ms. L/N to see what the relationship was as we thought she was sending him the money she took from you to put in an offshore account like with Daniel, but there were only brief communication from prior years, most of them regarding your schedules. There were no indications that they talked beyond your schedule. We did, however, find a letter addressed to Ms. L/N in his computer about the terms your relationship with her.”

Chris tilted his head in confusion. “What terms?”

“In this letter, it said that in the case that you broke up with her for reasons that are unequivocally her fault, she will be forced to pay back the material cost of your relationship. Any time you paid for her, whether it was dinner or anniversary gifts, she must pay it back 100%. And as far as she knows, your separation was caused because you were “unhappy with her” as she quoted in our interrogation so she paid the cost.” 

“What the fuck? We never had such agreements! That’s ridiculous- I would never make her do such things.” Chris was pissed, even more so than his staff stealing money, they were blackmailing people too. He thought they were pretty messed up to think of such things. Even in previous relationships where his girlfriend had cheated on him, lied to him, and manipulated him, he would never think to have them pay back. 

“Ms. L/N confirmed that she had signed that agreement somewhere in the two-year make of your relationship. It was given to her by Mr. Diangelo privately in which he requested her utmost discretion, and it also had your signature.” 

“What?! No- No- I never signed anything like that!”

“We sent the letter to your legal team, but we can almost confirm that Mr. Diangelo had forged your signature in that letter as your letter was on the file and there was no evidence of an original physical copy. Regardless, it is not a binding contract as it never went through any of your lawyers.”

“Unfortunately, Y/N doesn’t know that,” Jason continued. “She thought she did have to pay everything back, and we are trying to gather more information as we speak, but I’m guessing there are no merit to the numbers he pulled.” 

“That’s fucking messed up!” Chris growled, one his hand resting on his hip and the other rubbing his chin anxiously. 

“We cannot disclose the amount Ms. L/N paid Mr. Diangelo, but are working to finish up the investigation so the money can be returned to her.” 

“So she wasn’t working with Daniel and John?” Chris confirmed, not knowing whether he preferred knowing the truth or not. 

“We cannot draw any conclusions at this time,” Diana stated. 

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, the guilt starting to bubble in his stomach. “ Okay…” Chris  shook hands with Diana before she parted ways. He then turned to Jason, “Was she involved at all?” 

“Chris,” Jason said in a warning tone. 

“Please- I- I just gotta know.” 

“I just know from the financial side of things, and there was nothing to indicate that she was involved, Chris. She could’ve had the money transferred to another account or something, but so far nothing’s come up except for her payments to John.”

“Ho-How much did she pay?” 

Jason sighed, shaking his head. “Chris, I can’t tell you that.”

“Please- Please just give me an approximate- I just need to know-”

“She paid 3⁄4 of it, including the damage fee. She said she wanted to get rid of the debt as soon as possible so you didn’t have to worry about it.” 

“How much?”

“Chris-”

“How much?!” Chris all but yelled, standing up from his chair and knocking it over in the process. His chest was heaving, and his fist shaking as his eyes glossed with tears. 

“The number he gave her was close to $40 000 that she had to pay in the span of five years, and in the event that she couldn’t pay the monthly installments, she would have to pay an interest of 10%- not to mention the damage fee that he included of $10 000.” 

It was at that moment, Chris knew she was never involved. He felt like a huge fog has lifted from his brain, as if he finally cleared his brain after a bad hangover. The past few months felt like a nightmare, but it was then that he realized, this was his reality. His manager and personal assistant tricked him, manipulated him, stole from him, and he believed them when they said that his girlfriend was a part of it all. Even if she was, the way he treated her that night. Chris felt like a monster, a stranger living in his own skin. Looking back, he can’t even recognize himself, the words he said, the things he called her. They were unforgivable.  “Jesus Christ, Jason. I-I-I  fucked up. She wasn’t even at fault, and I blamed her.”

“We don’t know that, Chris. For all we know she could still have some part in this.”

Chris ignored him, shaking his head. He knew, and deep down he’s always known that she was never a part of this all. “Is she still here? Can I see her?” He looked around, desperate to see a glimpse of the woman he thought he would be his fiancee by now. 

“She left already, said she needed to get to work.” 

Scott peered at his brother from the corner of his eyes, looking more worried as Chris’s breathing got uneven. “Hey, hey, hey. C’mon-” He sat him down again, gently easing him into another chair. “C’mon, Chris. You gotta breathe.” 

“She didn’t do anything wrong,” Chris cried repeatedly, face turning red at his inability to breathe. “She didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“I’ll get him some water,” Jason said, giving his friend some space. 

“She wasn’t- She wasn’t- She didn’t do anything wrong, Scotty.”

“Shh, shh. It’s okay. We don’t know that.”

“I said so many awful things to her.” Chris cried, his hand covering his mouth as bile crawled up his throat. “Oh God, I think I’m going to be sick.” 

Scott saw how pale Chris had gotten, turning around to grab the small garbage can and put it below the leaning man just as Chris coughed up bile. 

“The- The baby!” Chris exclaimed, inadvertently knocking the paper cup from Jason’s hand as his hand grabbed his friend’s sleeve. “Was she- How’s the baby? Did you see her bump? Does she look healthy?” 

Jason didn’t know how to answer that question. Before this whole ordeal, he has only seen Y/N through pictures from the press, and never met her in person. Either way, there was no way she was pregnant when he met her. “She- She didn’t look that pregnant?” Jason said uneasily, not knowing how to break the news. 

“Wh-What?” Chris said to himself, shaking his head. “No… Please, God no… No, no, no... ” He shrunk back on the couch, whimpering how stupid he was, and rubbing his chest as if it could appease the weight on his heart as he realized his mistake.

<-- (Chapter 2)           (Chapter 4) -->

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[queen-of-deans-booty]

99 Problems: Part One

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1,846

Warnings: typical supernatural violence, language, angst, blood, you know the usual

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Any and all comments on these are appreciated. I really want to hear what you guys think about this one!

Feedback is the glue that holds my writing together.

Tags at the bottom

The wound on your side keeps bleeding no matter how much magic you use. Sam’s injuries are minor, Dean just barely got away, but you got the worst of it. After all, you’re the reason why you three are in this mess to begin with. Blood covers your left hand as it puts pressure on the wound, and your right focuses the magic to work within you. Blue magic strings from your fingertips and into the wound, and you watch as it slowly closes. You would tend to the brothers’ wounds, but yours is more pressing. Dean races down the street without looking back in fear the demons are right behind him.

“Drive faster, Dean,” you grunt.

“I can’t! Are you both okay?”

“Yeah, I’m amazing,” Sam grits.

“I’ll be fine. Why the hell were there so many demons? You two ever see that many?”

“No way, not in one place,” Sam shakes his head.

Even though the surface of your wound is sealed, you know there could be internal damage which is why you keep siphoning magic into it.

“What the hell?” Dean mutters.

“Sam, come here. Let me fix you,” you offer and scoot closer to the younger Winchester.

Sam takes his hand away from his bloody shoulder, and you reach out to touch it when Dean slams on his brakes. You were about to tear him a new one when you saw the barricade up ahead. It is up in flames, covering the entire stretch of road which means there is no possible way for you three to get around it. Someone had either did this deliberately or it was a freak accident, but there has to be another way around it. Dean starts to back up the car when the windows shatter.

Demons from all sides of the car break the windows to try and grab it the three of you. Dean is prepared for this just about as much as you and Sam are, which isn’t really a lot. They try and grab whatever they can manage, and just start pulling. A demon reaches into the car, but you throw small balls of magic at him to get him to back off. The impact makes him wince in pain, and you keep trying to hold them off. You’ve learned a lot about your powers ever since you found out you were pregnant. You can do a lot more with the energy that’s been sitting inside of you.

Yes, you plan on telling Dean, but now is not the right time for it. It’s not fair you’ve been keeping this secret from him, and it’s time you step up and take responsibility for your actions. Before the demons could do anymore damage, about half a dozen men and women show up in a big vehicle with fire truck hoses. The main leader start spraying the demons with water, but when you see their skin start to sizzle, you know it’s holy water. Where did these guys come from? How do they know about demons? You don’t recognize them as hunters, so who are they?

The demon screams in pain as they release you and the brothers and move away to try and get to safety. The main leaders starts to perform an exorcism in Enochian, and now you’re curious as hell. Where did they learn the language? Who are these people? You get out of the car just as the demons fall to the ground. Black smoke pours out of their mouths and disappears into the air.

“Well that’s something you don’t see every day,” Dean chuckles.

“You three alright?”

“Peachy.”

“Be careful, it’s dangerous out there,” he warns.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait a second,” you interrupted and got out of the vehicle.

“No need to thank us.”

“No, hold up a second! Who are you?”

“I’m Rob. We’re the Sacrament Lutheran Militia.”

“I’m sorry—the what?” Dean inquires.

“I hate to tell you this, but those were demons and this is the Apocalypse. So… buckle up.”

“Yeah, we know. We’re hunters.”

“Prove it,” Rob scoffs.

You take a quick look at Dean, and he rolls his eyes lightly, but opens the trunk of his car up. There is nothing but an empty trunk, but as soon as he pulls up the cloth flap, all of your weapons are on display. Three of the important men take a look at the weapons to see if you three are legit.

“Looks like we’re in the same line of business,” Sam comments.

“And among colleagues. That’s a police-issued shotgun,” Dean motions you the shotgun in Rob’s hands. “That truck is, uh… inspired. Where’d you guys pick up all this shit?”

“You know, you pick things up along the way,” one of the other men shrug.

“Guys, come on. This whole corner of the state is nuts with demon omens. We just want to help. That’s all,” you sigh.

“We’re on the same team here. Just talk to us,” Dean tries to convince them.

“Follow us,” Rob nods and heads back to his truck with his friends.

Dean shuts his trunk and locks it before all three of you climb inside the car. Once Rob and his friends get inside their car, he takes the lead through the forest on a back road that Dean didn’t see earlier. The forest is dense, the trees are thick, and there’s a little bit of fog, but it hides the road well enough from cars that are passing by. Once Rob makes it out of the forest you can see a small town up ahead barricaded with barbed wire.

There are many men with guns surrounding the place, and you can’t help but think what might’ve happened here. They let both cars through the gate and close it once you’re safely inside. Dean Parks off to the side and gets out to see what exactly is going on. Everyone seems to be gathering at the local church, which is why you three are heading inside.

“Dylan, it’s a church. Headphones off,” an older woman says to one of the men with Rob.

He’s a bit younger, maybe about early twenties, but still too young for this kind of work. Well, you started off way younger, but that was under different circumstances.

“Yes mom,” he sighs and does as he’s told.

In front of the church are two men with guns, and in between them is a devil's trap. Everyone who passes through it passes the test, but it doesn’t stop them from giving you and the brothers weird looks. You can tell they don’t take strangers lightly here. Not with all of the protection they feel the need to take. It’s best if they don’t know you’re a witch, so you keep quiet about that part of yourself.

Walking inside the church, you notice that it’s not that different from outside. The pews are full, and there are three couples in front. It looks like there might be a wedding going on, but you can’t be so sure about that.

“Who would have thought the Apocalypse could be so romantic? Marriage, family—it’s a blessing. Especially in times like this. So hold on to that,” the pastor says.

“A wedding?” you whisper. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. We’ve had eight so far this week,” Paul, one of Rob’s men, confirms.

Apart from the creepy ceremony happening, every person sitting in the aisle seat of each pew holds a shotgun like Rob’s. What the fuck is going on here? It looks like the pastor is the main bitch around here, so you patiently wait for the ceremony to be over to approach him. As soon as it is, the three couples leave the church as people throw confetti above them. They can pretend this is a real wedding all they want, but it’s not.

“So Rob tells me you three hunt demons,” the pastor says when he approaches you.

You look over at the man but pause. He is decked out in weapon gear from the thigh holster to a shoulder one. This man may be a preacher, but he’s definitely something else.

“Uh, yes sir.”

“Please, call me Gideon. But you missed a few.”

“Yeah, tell us about it. Any idea why they’re here?” you ask.

“They sure seem to like us, though. Follow me, gentlemen, lady,” he nods.

He leads you back into the now empty church toward the back. There is a door that when you walk down the stairs, it leads to the basement.

“So you’re a preacher?” Dean asks.

“Not what you expected, huh?”

“Well, dude, you’re packing.”

“Strange times,” he shrugs and opens the door.

There are people of all ages and backgrounds inside. There are stations where people work and do different things. At one table, there is a little girl making salt rounds, and you try to hold in your initial shock. Everyone is doing something, and there isn’t a twiddling thumb anywhere.

“Is that a twelve-year-old packing salt rounds?” you ask.

“Everybody pitches in.”

“So, the whole church?” Sam wonders.

“The whole town.”

“A whole town full of hunters. I don’t know whether to run screaming or buy a condo,” Dean shudders.

“Well, the demons were killing us. We had to do something.”

“Why not call the National Guard?” you ask.

“We were told not to.”

“By who?” you ask but receive no answer.

“Come on, Padre. You’re as locked and loaded as we’ve ever seen. Plus, that exorcism was Enochian. Someone’s telling you something.”

“Look, I’m sorry, I, uh, I can’t discuss it,” he sighs.

“Are you talking to angels?” you gasp.

“Look—”

“Dad, it’s okay,” a young woman says from behind you three.

You turn around, and you immediately get bad vibes off her. There is definitely something wrong with her.

“Leah—”

“It’s Sam and Dean Winchester, and Y/N Singer. They’re safe. I know all about them.”

“The angels?” you ask. “There’s only one species who know Enochian.”

“Yes, the angels,” she nods with a smile.

“Awesome,” Dean scoffs.

“Don’t worry, they can’t see you here. The marks on your ribs, right?”

“So, you know all about us because angels told you?” Sam wants to confirm.

“Yes. Among other things.”

“Like the snappy little exorcism spell?” you ask.

“And they show me where the demons are going to be, before it happens, and how to fight back,” she nods in response to your question.

“Never been wrong. Not once. She’s very special,” Pastor Gideon goes to his daughter's side with pride.

“Let me guess. Before you see something, you get a really bad migraine, and see flashing lights?” Dean asks.

“How’d you know?”

“You’re not the first prophet we’ve met,” you give her a bittersweet smile.

“Excuse me for a second,” Pastor Gideon apologizes and takes his daughter off to the side to speak with her.

“There’s something not right with her.”

“What do you mean?” Dean asks.

“She’s not human. I don’t know what she is, but it’s not human.”

“We’ll keep an eye on her,” he assures you.

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[pinkhairandadverbs]

EBAS Episode 1: The War Against Giygas

1 EXT. GAS STATION - TWILIGHT

All we see is crimson static. After some time a still image of a gas station materializes. It appears hurriedly abandoned judging by the broken windows, open doors, and merchandise littering the ground.

Behind the pump is a street lined by several buildings in a similar state to the gas station. Flying saucers hover ominously in the sky, frozen in place. The static abides completely as we PULL OUT SLOWLY.

The first thing that becomes clear is that this is only a poster. A caption above and below the picture reads "IT IS EARTHBOUND / THE WAR AGAINST GIYGAS!" PULLING OUT FURTHER, we see it's on the wall of the very same

gas station. A loose corner of a poster bends in the hollow wind.

We hear it before we see it: a small lightning strike, startlingly close, sends shards of pavement and dust across the crimson skies.

In a moment we see the whole street. The saucers, now alive, zip across the deep red horizon in zigzagging patterns. They shoot bolts of lightning to the ground, upheaving asphalt and exploding empty cars.

Wind blows off the poster and carries it across the frame.

Static again. We hear the distant voice of an adolescent girl.

VOICE Hello. Can anyone hear me?

Through the static we see the scene again. A fire has erupted on one of the cars. A speck in the sky seems to be growing. Before long it's evidently a glowing meteor streaking across the sky, directly towards the scene!

VOICE I'm not sure if this is working. If anyone can hear me, please-

The meteor's glow engulfs the scene and the voice is halted by a loud CRASH.

2 INT. NESS'S BEDROOM - NIGHT (199X)

The same sound comes faintly now. NESS, 13-ish and still wide-eyed in striped pajamas, is stirred from his bed.

NESS Hello?

POV: Ness looks around his room, decorated with baseball and 90's video game memorabilia. PAN ACROSS.

He checks out the window to the forested suburban street. A fierce golden glow emanates from a nearby hilltop.

NESS What is that?

He rubs his eyes and gets out of bed.

3 INT. LIVING ROOM

Ness comes down the stairs to see his mother, dressed in a nightgown and already on the phone.

Ness's loyal dog, KING, lazily wags up to Ness and licks his hand.

NESS

Hi there King.

KING

(Telepathically)

Ness. There was a loud noise. It's dark but Mom's awake. I'm confused.

NESS So you heard it too... It wasn't a dream after all.

MOM

(To the phone)

-Yes honey, we're alright. We still have power and everything. Hold on, Ness just came down. (To NESS)

Ness. Did the noise wake you?

NESS

Yeah. What was it?

MOM

Must have been a transformer. Don't worry about it.

NESS

Can I go check it out?

MOM

Absolutely not! It's already far past your bedtime and-

Mom stops at the mischievous look on Ness's face.

MOM

-And you would just sneak out anyway, wouldn't you?

NESS

I don't know what you're talking about.

Mom smiles.

MOM

Change out of your jammies before you go.

Ness celebrates by jumping up and down and kissing Mom on the cheek.

NESS

Thanks, mom!!

4 EXT. NESS'S NEIGHBORHOOD

Ness shuts the front door behind him, now clad in a striped shirt and shorts. (Notably, the only thing missing from his signature attire is his backpack.)

He looks up at the glowing hilltop again.

5 EXT. HILLSIDE

Police cars line the wooded hillside path. Officers stand by roadblocks up the trail, blocking the way. Beyond them an intense glow emanates through the trees.

Ness comes up the trail and sees the police here. A friend of Ness's is also here, pestering the cops.

POKEY, 13-ish, is a bit taller and much wider than Ness. He's become a bit of a bully from years of parental abuse, but Ness still spends time with him.

POKEY

Come on! Just a peek! You know me, Mr. Officer Simmons! Just give me the scoop.

COP 1

No! Get out of here. Scram!

Pokey notices Ness and scrambles over to him.

POKEY

Ness! Buddy!

NESS

Pokey, what are you doing here?

POKEY

Listen. I'm glad you came. But the cops and I have the situation under control.

The cops perk up when they see Ness like a ray of hope.

COP 2

Ness, can you take care of this kid?

POKEY

We can't tell you what the glowing thing is right now, that's uh, classified information.

COP 1

We literally don't know what it is.

POKEY

I'll tell you all about the alien in the morning, when the uh press release comes out. But right now you're getting in the cops'- I mean, officers' way.

COP 1

It's not an alien.

NESS

Maybe we should both leave then... the police seem to be doing just fine without your help.

COP 2

Yes please!

POKEY

Oh no! I'm in charge here. Don't worry about me. You're bugging the officers, though. Look at them!

They turn to look at the cops, both very aggravated.

COP 2

Ness, help us out.

NESS

Pokey come here with me.

They turn their backs toward the officers.

POKEY

Yes, citizen?

NESS

What are you doing?

Pokey immediately drops his confident demeanor.

POKEY

I wanna see the meteorite! I'm this close to them letting me through.

Ness laughs.

NESS

Pokey, as long as the cops are here, we aren't getting near that. Let's come back some other time and nobody will be here to keep us out.

POKEY

That's... smart. This is why I keep you around, Ness! You always have the best ideas.

NESS

Glad I'm good for something.

The kids head down the hill. Ness turns back for a moment to look back at the hilltop. We get a few more seconds on the mysterious glowing object up the hill.

6 INT. LIVING ROOM

Ness enters, and his mom greets him.

MOM

Back so soon? What was it?

NESS

Something on the hill... It was so bright. The police beat me there so I couldn't get close, but Pokey and I are gonna check it out again later.

MOM

I think that's a wise choice. Night time is for sleeping.

NESS

Now that you mention it, I am pretty tired.

MOM

Good. Let's get you back to bed.

7 INT. NESS'S BEDROOM

Ness lays in bed, eyes open.

He turns to look at the glowing hilltop again.

Its aura is mysterious, yet inviting.

He rolls back over.

FADE TO BLACK

After a few moments, we hear an incessant knocking.

8 EXT. NESS'S FRONT PORCH

Mom opens the door and raises her eyebrows as Pokey, who we just now see was the one knocking, shouts in her face in a panic.

POKEY

Ness Ness Ness!!-- Oh. Good evening ma'am. You look lovely as usual.

Pokey holds back a snicker as Mom looks unamused.

MOM

Can I help you, Pokey?

POKEY

Is Ness in?

MOM

He's asleep, hopefully. I can take a message-

Ness comes down the stairs, just visible in his jammies through the doorway and with bags under his eyes.

NESS

Mom, what was that knocking-?

Pokey notices Ness and shoves his way into the house.

POKEY

Ness! The police left. Let's go check out the thing!

NESS

When I said later, I didn't mean two hours later. It's like 3 a.m.

POKEY

Okay but we have to go now.

NESS

Why?

POKEY

Uh... Picky ran away. I think he went up the hill. I need you to help me find him!

NESS

He's your brother, why can't you look for him yourself?

POKEY

It's not my fault! I blame the cops... Ness, if my dad gets back and his favorite son is gone, I know I'm gonna get it... Please, bestest friend, please?

Ness takes a moment to consider.

NESS

Okay. Let me get dressed.

POKEY

Yes! I knew I could count on you.

9 INT. LIVING ROOM

Ness comes through to the entryway where Pokey and Mom wait, back in his striped shirt and holding a baseball bat. Pokey stays out for a bit.

NESS

Alright I've got everything!

MOM

You're taking a bat?

NESS

Just in case.

MOM

Whatever you say.

Oh, and about Pokey... I know he's your friend, but he can still be kinda bossy. Don't let him push you around just because you've known each other for so long.

NESS

You know I can deal with Pokey. He's my closest friend but he's still a jerk. When he crosses the line, he'll know.

MOM

Good. Sometimes I worry about you.

King comes up and whines for Ness's attention.

KING

Ness, where are you going so late? Is this about that big boom earlier?

MOM

Oh. You should take King along with you too. He hasn't had a walk in days.

KING

No, no no. I don't want to do anything in the day, I DEFINITELY am not going anywhere at night.

NESS

Come on, King. It'll be real quick.

King whines in resignation.

POKEY

Okay, Ness! Ready to go? Let's blow this popsicle stand!

NESS

Let's go!

They head out.

10 EXT. HILLSIDE - NIGHT

Ness and Pokey search with flashlights down the hill from the scene earlier.

POKEY

Ok... You go on ahead. I'll follow you from a safe distance.

NESS

Pokey, there's nothing dangerous in Onett.

POKEY But there are... bears!

NESS

They haven't bothered us whenever we snuck out after dark before.

POKEY

I swear one almost attacked me on Eagle Day this year.

NESS

Are you sure that wasn't Lier in his bear suit? *snicker*

POKEY

*Chuckle* What's up with that guy, anyway?

NESS

Anyone who calls themself a professional treasure hunter has issues, man.

POKEY

Remember when we teepee'd his house?

NESS

Of course I do! He thought it was the Sharks, right?

PICKY

And then he started taking it all inside-

NESS

And he actually used it!

POKEY

He's crazy.

Their laughter takes a second to die off, leaving an uneasy chill in the air.

NESS

Maybe you're right though. Something feels off about tonight.

POKEY

Well there's the big glowing thing on the hill. Who knows what's next? This could just be the beginning.

NESS

Somehow I feel like it is.

King, in contrast, is panting on the incline.

KING

It feels like the end for me.

NESS

Come on King.

11 EXT. HILLTOP

PICKY, Pokey's intelligent but jumpy younger brother, lay sleeping by a tree...

Right next to the source of the bright glow. It is a meteorite, black with yellow fissures lining the surface and emitting the mysterious light. A massive crater of upheaven earth surrounds it, just missing the tree against which Picky lay.

The gang comes up the trail.

POKEY

Picky! Picky, where are you?

KING

I do not like the look of this place. Not one bit.

Ness stops to appreciate the meteorite.

NESS

So it was a meteorite...

Picky stirs and they spot him.

POKEY

There he is! Picky!

PICKY

Pokey? Why did you run off like that? I thought you were coming back.

POKEY

I- You don't know what you're talking about. You ran off! You're always like this. Ness, can you believe it? I'm a reasonable, responsible young man, and I'm stuck with watching this dumb, annoying, selfish little brother! Do you know what it's like to deal with someone like that?

Ness and Picky exchange glances in the awkward silence.

NESS

Let's go home, guys. We found Picky and we've all had enough commotion for one-

Ness is interrupted by a blinding flash of light from the meteorite, coupled with the sound of a sharp exhaust release.

They all jump away and duck for cover. King scampers around for a moment in a panic, then takes off running down the hill.

KING Okay, that's it! I'm outa here! If I knew it would be this scary I never would have come along in the first place!!

Now a beam of golden light pierces the sky from the meteorite, and widens to about a foot wide.

Ness stands back up and gazes in awe.

NESS

What on Earth...

POKEY God help! Oh my God! Oh my God...

A small black form emerges from the meteorite, slowly upward, mimicking an insect's movements.

This is BUZZ-BUZZ, a visitor from the future. He resembles a rhinoceros beetle with large fly wings.

NESS

Look!

PICKY

What is it?

Pokey dares a stolen look up.

POKEY

It's a bat!

NESS

It's a fly...

PICKY

It's a rhinoceros beetle!

BUZZ-BUZZ

A bee I am not!

The gang exchange glances.

PICKY

Well, that was my next guess.

[inyournightmares97]

SugarDaddy!au Mark

You had never imagined that this would happen.

Mark Tuan had been nothing to you throughout your childhood, except your older brother’s handsome friend. You habitually caught glimpses of him when he came by to pick up your brother, and had peeked at his fancy car and expensive clothes. You even blushed whenever his intense gaze chanced your way. You had often wondered why someone as rich and handsome as Mark even hung out with your brother; but as you grew older, their friendship never wavered.

“I would trust Mark with my life,” your brother told you abruptly one evening. The two of you had grown up without parents, and had struggled throughout your teenage years. You were proud of your brother for managing to take care of both you, despite the unfortunate circumstances you’d been placed in.

“I never asked how much you trusted Mark,” you muttered with a roll of your eyes. “Why would I care about your friends?”

“Because I’m going abroad. And I’m trusting him to take care of you.”

Your brother had gotten an offer to go abroad; something he simply couldn’t turn down because there was too much money at stake. He promised you that he would earn as much as he could in a few years and return home. Personally, you were terrified. You had recently started a job as a receptionist at a large company, so you were making some money of your own. But you’d never lived without your brother before. He assured you that Mark would be there for you, that he would come if you needed anything. But you weren’t so sure. You could barely look the man in the eye without blushing madly, how could you rely on him?

But you couldn’t tell your brother that. So you smiled calmly and saw him off at the airport. Mark came to see your brother off as well; once he was gone, he turned and gave you a soft smile. “You know you can call me if you need anything, right? Your brother is like my family.”

You saved his phone number politely, almost positive that you would never use it.

Except that you did.

Things at your workplace started going downhill fast. There was a particular manager who’d had his eye on you and his groping and lewd comments had grown increasingly intolerable until you finally decided to complain to HR. Except HR didn’t give a damn. They created a huge issue out of your complaint and things went badly for a few days until you finally got fired for making ’false’ accusations of sexual harrasment. You had lost your temper when the manager gave you a sly smirk so you’d reached out and twisted his nipple painfully to compensate for the many times he tried to grope your breasts.

So, yes.

The first phone call you made to Mark Tuan was from a prison cell.

Personally, you were terrified. Mark had always been a little scary because he never talked much. You were positive that he was going to be furious at you for creating a ruckus at work and making him drive down to the police station. But Mark bailed you out calmly and without blinking an eyelid. When you finally came out of the prison cell, he wrapped his arms around you and gently rubbed your back.

“Are you okay?” he asked you softly.

You nodded, unable to speak. You had no idea what to do with yourself. You’d lost your job, you could no longer afford to pay rent and now you had an assault case against you. Before you could speak, Mark answered for you.

“We’re going to drive down to your place and get your stuff. Stay with me for a while. I’ll handle all of this.”

You were shocked by how easily Mark welcomed you into his home, how he dealt with the police smoothly and used his influence to get the case against you dropped. You had never bothered to ask what Mark did for a living earlier; but now you learned that he had inherited his father’s business. Mark worked long hours and rarely complained. The longer you stayed in his home, the more you learned that he was extremely lonely and didn’t socialize with other people well. Your brother had been one of his few friends. Mark spent most evenings in front of the television and watching the most absurd soap operas with a glass of wine.

“After listening to people talk about market values and estimations and crunch numbers all day, it feels better to watch something mind-numbingly stupid,” he admitted to you with a smile, as you both watched one of the soap opera villians attempt to fudge the results of a paternity test.

Your idealized version of the rich, handsome brother’s best friend Mark slowly faded away. You came to understand that he was a human being too. He had extreme sides to him; he was either suggesting that you both go out skydiving or windsurfing, else he stayed in bed all day and refused to get out except to eat. He developed this odd habit of buying something extremely expensive for you whenever he had a bad day at work. It was a designer handbag the first time. The second time, it was a lipstick imported from France. The gifts made you uncomfortable and you didn’t know what to do with them.

“Mark, you honestly shouldn’t do this. I’m intruding on your hospitality enough by staying here and mooching off you when I don’t have a job…”

“It makes me feel better to see you happy,” he admitted quietly. He gave you a gentle smile. “You can ask for whatever you want. You know I’ll always take care of you.”

You weren’t an idiot. You knew that whatever had developed between you and Mark was not a healthy friendship; nor did it resemble a sibling relationship in any way. But it wasn’t until the night he came home slightly drunk from an office party that you both officially crossed the line.

“I hate work,” he admitted to you, his words slightly slurred as he struggled to drunkenly take off his shoes. “I hate everyone there. The only person I want to see in the whole day is you. I want to see you happy. I want to see your beautiful smile. That’s all.”

You froze, heartbeat thudding as Mark walked over to you. His hands grasped your shoulders and he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. You had never been kissed in such an adoring manner and you wondered if your heart would explode. “I don’t feel as lonely when you’re around,” he told you, his voice cracking.

Once you both fell into bed together, there was no stopping it. Mark was an excellent lover and you loved how he worshipped every part of you and made sure you were pleasured. There were moments when he dominated you slightly; but it only excited you more. Before you realized it, you were sleeping in his bed every night and he was bringing you more gifts. He bought you clothes, took you to fancy restaurants and on weekend tripa to resorts. You were gliding on the high of luxury until one of your friends saw your designer handbag and knocked you back down to earth.

“Boyfriend?” she asked with a scoff. “Darling, you’ve got yourself a sugar daddy.”

You were quick to refute. “No, no, it’s not like-”

“Like what? You don’t have a job or any financial stability of your own. He’s lonely and miserable so he buys you stuff and you sleep with him. You’re telling me you guys are dating?”

You felt nauseous. Was this what you were doing? You had been enjoying Mark’s attentions and pampering so much that you didn’t stop to think about it. Did you even really like him? Or were you only doing this because he was taking care of you?

Either way, it needed to stop.

“I’m going to bed early,” you told Mark that night as he tried to put his arms around you and kiss you. He blinked at you calmly. You never turned him down.

“Are you okay, baby?”

“I’m fine. I just… I realized that I can’t live here forever. I can’t rely on you like this forever. I have a couple of job interviews in the morning. I’ll be out of your hair soon.”

Mark frowned at you. “I told you, you can stay here as long as you want. Your brother is-”

“My brother,” you replied carefully, “probably didn’t intend this when he asked you to take care of me.”

Mark’s eyes widened briefly. You saw a hint of panic in them before his expression suddenly went soft and he turned away from you. “You can do whatever you want,” he told you gently. “I just want you to be happy.”

It wasn’t as easy as that. Finding a job was hard, especially considering the undignified manner in which you’d had to leave your last job. No employer looked happy when you told them about what had happened there. There was only one place that called you back for another interview; but even they turned you down in the end.

“One of your references didn’t check out,” they told you simply.

You waited for Mark to come home, sitting stiffly on the sofa in his luxurious apartment. He smiled lightly at you as he entered and toom off his shoes. “Hey,” he greeted you lightly. “How did that job interview go?”

“Not well,” you replied stiffly. “And I think you know why.”

He paused. “What?”

“Apparently one of my references didn’t check out. You get one guess as to which one.”

Mark was silent. You watched as he quietly placed his bag on the couch and then sat down on it. When he looked up, he seemed torn.

“Are you leaving?” he asked you softly.

You stared at him. “What?”

He let out a small, humorless laugh. “I knew I was making a mistake from the beginning. I shouldn’t have let this happen. I should have told you about my feelings from the start. But I was afraid that you would reject me and it turned into… this.”

You blinked at him. “So you did sabotage my references?”

“I was afraid that you would leave me. If you got a job and your own apartment, you wouldn’t need me anymore. I don’t want to lose you,” he explained. He gave you an apologetic smile. “But this is a pretty pathetic way to keep someone around, huh? I’m sorry.”

You felt your throat close up. “I wasn’t going to leave you. I just… didn’t want our relationship to be about you providing for me.”

He looked up at you sharply. “I thought you were happy.”

“I am happy with you. But I want to be financially independent, I don’t want to feel like I’m using you for your money. I don’t want to taint what we have. I need this to be a balanced relationship.”

He only nodded.

“I love you,” he told you softly.

You wrapped your arms around him tightly, the both of you clutching onto each other. Mark meant so much to you; you couldn’t imagine losing him.

“I love you too,” you admitted to him.

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

A/N: I’m SO sorry this didn’t turn out well. I thought I could write a sugardaddy!au but I just couldn’t do it. Financial independence for women is something that’s very important to me. I think when a woman doesn’t have the ability to provide for herself and relies on a man to do it, she puts herself in a very vulnerable position.

Not just women but to everyone: it’s not romantic to financially rely on your partner. Have your own job and steady income. It gives you the respect in a relationship and gives you the independence to exit a bad relationship without being forced to stay in it because you have no other way to provide for yourself.

[zebraslovescupcakestoo]

Golden Eyes Chapter 26

I was meeting my ancestor, who she was the first who had the 'sight' abilities and she was NOT looking anything like that picture in the books. I mean, sure that history doesn't exactly depict the image one hundred percent accurate...

“I'm... I'm really surprised to meet you... This is new to me.” I told her. She chuckled and she then ruffled my hair. “If I could communicate more than this, I would have helped you sooner. But at least now I can help you with your sight and who you will soon be facing. Not just that demon you've sworn to take down.”

“Oh? You mean the people who took my mother's life? Should I look out for them too?”

She shook her head. “He's Apophis' successor.” I looked at her confused. Who's this new character that adds more pressure in my life?

“You'll see him soon enough. But you shouldn't have any problem now with that abilities that you've started to learn how to use your 'sight' properly. If you can complete your training, you wouldn't need those rings anymore. These can only help when you aren't.” She showed my ring.

“You're telling me if I do complete my 'sight' training, I wouldn't need these anymore and I'm not going in a coma state if I took them off?”

“Mostly, you only keep them for your descendants when you'll have them.” She smiled at that and I blushed a bit. That's not going to happened anytime soon and I wanted to do it the right way.

I changed the subject. “B-b-but what are we supposed to do now? I mean, I need to be back in 'reality' before anybody sees me and thinks I'm in a coma again.” I am probably still 'sleeping' on my bed right now.

“Worried about your nephews and your friends?” I nodded. “Well, I wouldn't take long. I wanted to show you this.” She showed some sort of large brace on her left arm. She did something to activate a small punching knife from it. “This was one of my weapon of choice and a basic weapon to learn.” I got a bit nervous on that subject. I may have 'injured' my opponents, but I never once killed anyone... even in all of my short police detective experiences.“What about my whip? Can I just-” She pressed my lips with one finger. “You'll need more than one technique if you'll be facing some foes that 'knows' that. I can tell from your eyes that you never did a kill. It must have been the times that changes the methods on your people's morale. However...” She then puts it away. “If you give your enemies a chance, you'll might regret it and that might not be your life that will pay the price.” I gasped. She's isn't wrong on that term...

“But for now, you'll need to practice on this weaponry. Just for self-protection. I can see in your life that one of your friends can help you with that.” She then gestured her hand and then there was that same golden, hieroglyph encrypted door when I last leave this 'sub-conscious' room. “I will summon you once you've learn how yo use that weapon. I'll reward you with another ability once you've mastered it.”

I got a bit confused on it. “Wh-wait! I don't know anybody with that kind of armed bracer. None of my friends even have that kind of weapon. Who is that person you're telling me to see?” She then escorted me to the door. “You're very close to him and you'll see him soon enough.” She told me as I then started to see a bright light flashed before I woke up...

Once I cane to, I got up from my bed and I was back in my reality. I just met one of my ancestors and I need to be trained how to use that weapon bracer from a friend I know... Which I don't think it's possible because they don't use THAT kind of thing. One was Woody for his knife skills that's competitive to Bendy's, but it's more like in 'pieces' than the whole thing assembled. The other was Sammuel who had a REALLY good match, but his was a hook shot and needle attacks.

I don't think I can count Sheba and Kitty unless I intentionally pissed them off and they're holding a large kitchen knife. Never I'll set them off unless I had it with life.

But if I can't find 'that' friend, I won't make any progress and I'll be doomed to wear the ring for the rest of my life and not going to have-!!! No! No! Too soon! For THAT and to give up my search. I'll start with my first, two bros I can rely if she's talking about anyone of them. Then I'll see where I can go from there.

I looked at the clock and it was a quarter before three. The kids will be home soon and then we'll have to start packing to our new 'temporary' place. They were worried at first on what we're going to do, but I told them it was my job to take care of that and they shouldn't worry about it.  But I can tell that they still wanted to help me... I was the same as them at that age when my father had problems too...

I then heard the phone ringing and I suddenly remembered that I had to give my answer to a certain someone. I immediately rushed but carefully get to the phone in the kitchen just in time.

“Hello?- Yes, it's me. I'm sorry that I took a bit long.- No, don't worry. I'm fine.- Yes. I did thought about it over at noon and I'll accept that job.”

-------

The very next day, the Jewelry exhibition show was then on full swing and I was in my best suit.

The offer Mickey gave me was a security supervision. I was to be on a look out for anyone suspicious and to order my 'partners' to get it done if I do. It's for two reasons why he gave me that position aside for pocket money in my 'unemployment' situation at the moment.

One I'm still recovering and two I can't make any 'legal' arrest without my detective badge. So I had to have either Sheba or Woody to make that in my place.

Kitty was asked to be one of their models and I was surprised they did! I wish I could say the same for the dog show that was now cancelled... However, Mickey somewhat pulled off something because the remaining contestants were all granted to be on this show for their new dog collar. Sam thought it would be best for Kitty to be with his dog, Tiara, to join her instead of him. He's not much of a center of attention kind of guy much except when he's in court.

The kids are doing well at a acquaintance’s place where Mickey recommended in the Chinatown district so they're safe for now...

The evening party was going well and I was on my guard. “Alright, tell us.” Sheba asked me straight. “What?” I asked in confusion. “There's something on your mind you wanted to ask but you couldn't bring yourself to say it. Is this about 'that?'” She batted her eyes twice indicating about my 'sight' abilities. I really don't want to say it, but I have to trust them if I wanted them to do the same in return. “Well, it is about 'that,' but now is not the right time to-”

“Hi, we're back. Sheba, I got yours and Woody got yours, Felix.” Kitty and Woody got back from their scavenger hunt at the banquet. Kitty still had that Navy blue gown with her white floof coat that covered her shoulders and her hair was all curly in a ponytail. She looks so beautiful...

“Did we miss something?” Woody asked us. “Felix had 'that' problem that came up.” Sheba blinked twice and they quietly, gasped in surprised. “How long did you had it and why didn't you tell us sooner?” Kitty looked at me with concern.

“Wait Wait! Hold up! Is that thing with double blinking is like a code for these?” I winked my eyebrows indicating my eyes.

“We just wanted to respect not telling. But enough of that, Sam will be with us shortly and we can all talked about it ASAP.” Woody told me.

“I can't do that. No wait! WE can't do that! We're in a middle of our jobs and what if something happens to the guests? Can we just save this for later?” It's not that I don't like being cared for by my friends, it's just now is not the time for a group meeting.

“Felix, you-” Kitty was then cut off by a man who wore an expensive white but slightly grey attorney suit, with dark brown shoes, an expensive silver watch, his light brown hair was well combed and he had that look on his face that said: Crooked snob! “Ah, you must be that Felix Lockheart I heard a lot about you from your buddies at the station you used to work there.”

Why do I feel like I'm not going to like him much on first impression?

“It's a shame that you just got fired for just doing your job. But I must say, there's plenty of other job opportunities for the working class. I'm pretty sure somebody with your... decent background will have one in no time. At least your reason of being fired was only the timing issue. If it was a corrupted issue... it's will be a bit too hard if you know what I mean.” He vaguely says that I'm just lucky Bendy didn't put any dirt or false evidence on me yet.

“Er... thanks, but I'm sure I can manage on my own and-”

“Oh and speaking of which, I also heard a rumor about you meddling with, ugh.... 'other' people. May I asked about them? I would 'like' to know.” He gestured me to something I might be telling him about the people in the Chinatown district. But I can just tell from his looks that he's someone not to take lightly.

So I just told him this politely. “The people I've met and 'interrogated' are just like us. Everyday normal people with different culture. They're very nice once you get to know them better yourself.”

“Yes, yes. But I'm just wondering from 'your' perspective. I may not look like it, but I'm a 'very' busy man. Won't you at least describe a bit for me?” He was being persistent like that deceased creepy guy the other day at the station... and I started to HATE this guy already.

“Evening, Jerry. Who are you trying to harass this time?” Sam spoke behind him and that jolt him. So he's that 'Jerry' guy Sam keeps talking about in his work stories.

“Oh... Sammuel. I forgot you were here tonight. Must I remind you that my name is Jerarrd Fournier Lefebvre? That 'Jerry' sounded too common...” He was annoyed and looked straight at him.

“Nobody cares and leave the kid alone. He's got more than enough sh!t on his plate at the moment.” Sam told him straight in his face without shame and serious.

“Vulgar as usual. I think I'll leave you and your 'little' friends for now. I need to do some 'overtime' in my social life. You should at least try it once too.” He excused himself and left until Sam responded. “Yeah, if I had that kind of dirty money, I will take your advice.” He 'hmped' on that response.

“Sam, you can't just say whatever you want like that. What if he's gonna start noticing you?” I scolded him.

“Trust me, I know this douche. He's one of those people in Bendy's pocket and probably had to suck on either Boris or Boston's d**k to have that latest silver watch he's wearing tonight.” He took a bite on one of the bite sized piece of cheese after that.

“Sam... Please. Not while we're eating at least.” I begged him not to spoil our appetite and he responded. “If I'm really 'that' mean, I would have said Bendy's because small objects can cause chocking hazards.” He took a sip from his fruit punch drink while Woody nearly choked his out. The girls shy away from laughing so that they wouldn't 'show' their reaction in their view. I just face palmed with embarrassment. “Hey, if they can sh!t talk on us, I don't see why we can't do the same.” He was brutally honest but I had to tell him. “Can you just please save it for another time when we're not in 'this' social gathering?”

“Can't promise the guaranteed on that. Why are you cats doing over here?” He asked the girls once they've calmed themselves. “Felix had 'that' problem that he need to share with us.” Kitty blinked twice and she spoke it softly. That made his eyes widen and said. “Alright, we're all done by eight in half an hour, so we'll be at that new coffee shop that reopened I've found out. I'm driving there and Felix, don't leave any details on this.”

“W-What? So soon? What about the kids?” I can't just make them wait THAT long. “Don't worry about them. They'll be fine. We're not gonna force you to tell all of it, but you have to tell us. We're your friends, remember? We'll understand.” Kitty patted my hair a bit.

I sighed. “Just... promise me not to take it personally...”

---- Time skipping by a fresh brew of hot cocoa!----

The place Sam told us was quite unique despite it's basic designs. We were the only ones there and the shop was supposed to be closed at that time, but Sam somehow got us a reservation since he helped the owner once so it was a favor thing.

We all had our coffee ready when I then decided to talk about what happened yesterday... Starting with my parents... I told them about my mother first and then how I found out that my father was married and got divorced from his wife before 'she' came along a few years later. Then I told them about a half-sister I never knew until now about the nephews and then I've finally told them about that 'dream' thing.

“Whoa! The more I hear about it, the more you look like that hero from that fantasy book I've read back at grandma's place. This is so exciting!” Sheba grinned her smile widely.

“Sheba, this is not like those stories. I mean for one thing, how many are those with two nephews he has to take care of after his father got killed in a horrible tragedy and found out about his half-sister who IS the mother but is deceased for the past four years?” Kitty told her. “Felix, I can't believed your father would keep this from you... not just about your half sister...”

“I don't think he intended to keep it from me that long, but he was sort of stalling and thought that I would have hated him until it was too late... and I admit that I could have understand if he would have just told me years before...” I reasoned myself to them.

“He's right. If one of my parents had to gave me up as a baby because of some crime organization chasing them down, I would have understand.” Woody sympathies. “Of course, I would be looking everywhere for them, but that's not really the main problem here. What are you going to tell your nephews?” I got shocked. I didn't exactly thought about it this far. “I can't just say that now! They barely remembered who they used to live with and I don't know more than what I've just said... I don't want anybody say any of this to them but me. I have to make thing right again not just for them, but for my half-sister and my father.”

“But Felix, these were your father's mistakes. It's not your fault that your half-sister got in an accident and she left the kids behind. Neither was your fault that you we're his 'illegitimate' son after his wife divorce him years before. You can't blame yourself for any of this.” Kitty puts her arms around my shoulder.

“I know it's not, but I can't leave these things as they are. Inky and Winky are all I have left in my family. I can't just tell them that their mother got killed and that's all I knew. They'll be heartbroken for a long time... I have to put this family together.” If I'm not going to do it, nobody else will.

“Does that include before that 'training course' with your 'sight' abilities?” Sam questioned across the table from me. “I understand you put your friends and family first most of the time, but don't forget you need to take care of yourself once in a while too. Especially with that special x-ray power that you're going to use more frequently from now on. I think me and Woody might help you with that weapon of choice. Mine is the closest and Woody's knife skill can make both halves.”

“Sammy's right. You're not going to get better if you're stuck on the same level. Now speaking of helping you, I did found a part time job at that Irish bar in Chinatown from an old friend. It's not quite the same like the police job, but at least it gives you some support until you find a full-time.” Woody offered me a job in a pub. I was touched.

“Ah, thanks for reminding me Woody. Félix, I also wanted to offer a part-time job as my assistant. Not just for paper work but also field investigating. With my attorney badge, I can legally investigate and I can bring a partner if I have one. I can give you some work too for support.” That's true. Attorneys have the rights to investigate crime scenes as long as they get supervision from the police. I was even touched deeper... “Guys... You're too much.”

“Of course it's not. We're your friends. We help each other. Now, apart from that, I'll help you with that bracer thing once you're settle in your new place.” Sam indicated.

“But Sam, you don't use knives, you use hook shots and needles projectiles.” Sheba pointed out.

“My weapon of choice was altered and based from that, it's not THAT different. Besides, I can use my hook shot like the punching knife with the right mechanic, believe it or not, and I'M doing his training this time, Sheba.” Sam responded to her.

“What's that suppose to mean?” Sheba glared at him. “I'm saying I'm the one who's going to help him with that first problem, just the two of us and probably Woody when he comes back. Last time YOU 'helped' his training, it was always late after dark and he was dead tired every time. You almost make him miss his date one time.” Sam shot back at her. “But they still get there in time for the movie!” Sheba defended herself. “Yeah and he fell asleep after the opening credit. You sometimes take things too far. Again, it's not like those fantasy hero books, he has a REAL life too, ya know?” Sam replied and then they argued.

“Hey! He needs all the training he can get! We're taking about that no-good Bendy De Mon here! He needs to be at the top of his game and I'm only trying to push it to the limit.”

“Well your 'push it to the limit' went overboard most of the time. He's not a machine and he needs a break once in a while.”

“I do give him a break and I know he's human! I just helping him to get back up quicker.”

“Yeah, when he lays down for two seconds when you were feeling 'generous'. Then you make him work too hard for the next two hours.”

“I did not! You're just too easy on him. Real bad guys don't give second chances!”

“I know that, but that doesn't mean you have to run him down every single time! You know you can be a bit-”

And they were bickering back and forth while I chatted with Kitty and Woody.

“Well, I'm alright with teaching a couple of trick once I get back from Scotland. Although if you want, you can get the basic knife techniques from the boss at that pub. I know him and he's pretty handy with that too. But don't worry! You'll be practicing with wooden spoons, so you're not going to have more cuts.” Woody said.

“I appreciate that offer, but I think I might be too busy with 'them' and finding a new job... aside from other things...” I was a bit stumped. I do have those two options for a job, but I also need to be there for my family and my friends too... I nearly 'died'... again. I'm alive today and the next ones. I don't want to waste it on work alone.

“Don't start with me again, Sammy!” Sheba glared at him. “You're the one who brought 'THAT' up in the first place!” He countered back.

“Guys, please! Let's not fight anymore for tonight. We spend quite enough time here and I need to get the kids.” I got up from my seat and then the coffee owner came to me. “Excuse me, but I believed this is for you.” He handed out a blue envelope and it had my name on it. I opened it up and read the little, blue card inside.

“What's that?” Kitty asked. “It's an address.” I answered, but I was confused. Why an address? “Hey! I know that address! It's the Chinatown's police department!” Woody exclaimed.

“What? You know that place?” I asked him. “Yeah, I been there a few times. You think ours is the ONLY police station in Chicago? This is a big city, so a few spare ones would be ideal for anyone who lives far from the one of them.” Woody responded.

“It's not that, I mean, what about it? Is there something about that place I should know?” I corrected my question to him. He only smiled widely with both hands behind his head and then Sam smirked with a thinking pose... Meaning HE knows what this place is too. “Sam, what are you thinking this time?” Sheba spatted him. “Oh, I was just thinking that tomorrow would be a good time to visit that address between us guys. After all, you and Kitty still have work tomorrow. Don't worry, us guys will be looking out for him.” Sam calmly reacted and Sheba's wasn't pleased. “Whatever you're doing, we're going too! We'll ask the chief to patrol on that territory! Right Kit-Kat?” Sheba turned to Kitty and she was surprised. “Huh?”

“Come on! Let's get those kids and hit the sack! We're ALL going to that address first thing tomorrow and after we punched in! And YOU better not going anywhere without ALL of us!” Sheba pointed out at Sam, then she grabbed my wrist and walked out the shop along with the others behind us.

---

The very next morning around Ten, We were back in the Chinatown district in front a Chinese architect Police station. One of the signs even stated: Chinatown Police Department.

“Whoa! This place is almost as big as our own!” Kitty was in amazement. “Not only that, but it's also connected to a Chinese Boxing School. So this would be a perfect training session once your wound is healed.” Woody filled us in.

“A Chinese Boxing School... Thanks.” I suddenly remembered a few days ago when I was 'practicing' with that Disney rabbit, I needed to focus on my punches in my combats too... Tuna fish, I really got a LOT on my plate right now.

“Well, enough looking at it on the outside! Let's get in there to see what do they want with you!” Sheba takes the lead and headed inside. “Wait, Sheba! I think we need to make a good first impression...” Kitty tried to reason with her but she was already inside. “Too late. Let's go.” Sam casually responded and then we all headed inside.

The indoor decor was a mix between the modern and Chinese. With plain beige colors and some cultural designs. But there was some basic police materials like the front reception. Sheba was at the desk and we catch up to her. “Sheba, at least let me talk to the person who wanted to see me first.” I told her.

“Ah, you must be the newest member recruiting here.” The receptionist looked at me and I was confused. “Newest recruit?”

“Continue further up ahead at the right. The left is where the training grounds for close combats are.” She gestured the way. “Um, Thank you.” I nodded and we all continued to the direction she pointed out.

“Are you sure you're going to meet them face to face first? What if it is a trap?” Sheba whispered. “I doubt it. This place is A-O-K. Nothing to worry in here, I promised.” Woody assured us.

I admit that I feel a bit nervous right now. Both were right and I don't know what to expect out of this. But at least I have back up in case of an ambush... Then again, Woody might be right.

I opened up the door to the station and inside was very unique... Well, it's almost the same as ours but with much cleaner desks and there was some traditional Chinese architectures decorated the place a bit. Asides some dented and punched in holes on certain walls, I noticed a large yet average familiar person sitting in the chief's desk, eating some Sweet Puffs and looking in today's newspapers with his face hidden behind it. I also recognized that old coffee mug sitting on his desk anywhere!

I immediately walked pass my friends and I grabbed the newspaper away from him as he was surprised. “Hey! I didn't finish the funny papers yet! Oh!... Felix! I haven't heard you coming in. It's been a while.” The individual smiled.

“Detective Pikachu?! And you're eating those sweets again! Didn't I told you to lay off of them?” Sheba responded and scolded him.

It was Detective Philihert Princeton. But we all call him Detective Pikachu. He was one of the people I used to work with when I first started in the police force. He had the usual, signature brown overcoat resting on his seat, he had his white working shirt, a red bow tie, had his signature side burns along with his dark brown hair, he had his 'lucky' brown detective hat on that looks like mine and he's also still 'fluffy' from when I remembered him.

He used to work at my old department until I was well adjusted to the job and then he somewhat 'disappeared.' He's also a full pledge detective who used to work under my father along with Bernard. He may be a bit of an average, stern, middle age guy with an attitude and a bit clumsy at times, but he makes up for it in his 'unique' work performance. He sometimes likes to talk like he's the 'greatest' detective, but he's got a soft guy deep down.

But don't forget his BIGGEST traits: He's a coffee lover and has a big sweet tooth. Keep yourself clear between a doughnut box and him. “I didn't expect you'd be with your friends here. I was told that it was going to be just you.” He puts down the puff and then he got up from his chair. (Creaked a bit but I'm not going to mentioned anything.) He stretched a bit and then started to explain.

“Ah well, guess I don't need to do a formal 'swore in the law' jig since it's not in front of the upper people.”

“What do you mean? And what are you doing here and were you've been all this time? I haven't seen you in months! Last I've heard from you, they said that you were lay off.” I DID wondered where he went next to Bernard, but all I ever got from them was that he's 'busy' or 'he's taking a vacation,' ecetera... Yet, I was kept busy too...

“Is that what they've told you and your buddies at the old station?” He raised an eyebrow and puts his hands beside his waist. “I may not be the smartest detective you all seen, but I have enough experience under this thinking cap to see what they were doing. They've 'chased' me away before I can have a chance to investigate what's REALLY going on.”

“They've fired you?” Kitty asked him and he nodded. “One of the higher ups is working 'with' Bendy and he might be the same person who did the same with kiddo over here. Luckily for 'us', this district is NOT under 'their' jurisdiction and neither who is working here. I'm now the guy in charge of this block of justice as you can tell from my badge. Eh?” He was really eager to show his chief badge.

“But what's this has to do with Felix being here?” Kitty asked. “I'm getting there, just as soon as he opens that door. I have a big package that's a bit too big to carry.” He pointed out a door to another office. “That's it? Just to help you with a package?” Woody was unimpressed. “If it's too much for Felix, especially when he's still recovering his gun wound, I will shove that mug-” I cut Sam off before he gets on a rant again. “I'm pretty sure it's not going to be THAT heavy. I'll be careful.”

I went to open the door and I immediately hit the light switch because it was dark in there. As soon as I turn it on....

“SURPRISE!!!” There was a shouting and horn blowing along with confetti’s flying in everywhere.

There was Mickey, Oswald, Ortensia, Minnie, Inky, Winky, The three masked people I've seen in that alley chase, Shang, Mulan, Baloo, Bagheera, Aladin, that Irish motorcycle girl, Mushu, Lumière. and two little girls I never met before. They seem like they were about the same age as my nephews...

One had light brown hair with a blonde streak in a braided pony tail, had turquoise like eyes ,a black and green dress and she looks a bit younger. The other had a really blonde hair, similar eye color, with a blue winter themed dress, and she looks about the same age as my kids. (Nephews that is!)

But what really surprised me was the cake that has a number twenty two on it... I realized something I've completely forgot. “I can't believe it was my birthday today... I completely forgot all about it!”

“You were a bit busy with all the stuff that's been going on lately, but I guess that makes the surprise even more easier.” Woody patted on my shoulder. “We wanted to make it a bit special.” “So we decided to do it in your newest office.” Shang and Mulan said in a follow up. New office? “I beg your pardon?” Maybe I misheard that part.

“They were talking about this block of wood here.” Sam passes by me and he gently knocked fist the desk with all of the party stuff on it. “As soon as we cleared all of this and you getting back on your feet, you'll be watching Woody's block of wood.”

“He'll also be fighting crime in the streets again after Chief detective Pikachu's present.” Sheba follows up. I raised an eyebrow on that. Are they telling me...? I then noticed Mickey pulling something from his jacket. It was a small case o=for jewelry, but as he opened it, it wasn't a jewelry, it was a police badge. A Chinatown Police Badge.

“Today were not only celebrating your birthday, but also the newest member of Chinatown's police member. Over here, those big guns at the main Chicago PD won't meddle who's working or rigging in this district. They have to get through me and the other one if they really wanted something bad.”  Philihert told everybody and patted my head. “W-wait! You're telling me that I'm... that guy you're talking about?”

“Who else we're talking about, Merlin the magnificent? His NAME would be on the cake instead.” Baloo chuckled. “Hurry up to make that wish, Felix. The candles are going all over it.”

The party went on for a while, everybody's got a good time and we all get to know each other well. The girls I've seen with my nephews were foster sisters, but they were under Mulan and Ortensia for the moment. I was worried at the thought of my own if I have... no, Felix. You're alive and you're grateful you're living another day to see them. I was also handed a card of an apartment address to a certain Jack Skellington, who he's responsible for estates and apartments. I was told to ask him for a place for me and my nephews once we have the chance. I also got to know the other three who helped us in that mafia chase the other day. The short, buffed, red one was Yao, the skinny, cocky, yellow guy was Ling, and the big, blue, peaceful guy was Chien-po. Those three along with Shang and Mulan are working within this police department for this district's security. They can at least be on the look out for any mafia activities asides the regular criminal activities in public. The Irish girl name was Merida. As I pretty much already her background, she's pretty popular in the delivery services from what I heard from her and many more...

The more I get to know these people, the more I wanted to find out why would they called themselves a 'mafia.' I mean, I didn't get the chance to experience their 'night' jobs. I already know what the 'usual' mafia business from my father's experiences and mine, but this is... quite unusual. I'm not saying it's bad! Just a nagging feeling in my chest...

Speaking of chest... I remembered back in that factory... Mickey and Oswald were hit dead on the hearts! By none other than Boston himself! How did they-

My thoughts were interrupted by a singing, guitar playing rabbit and he made my eyes wide opened.

Well it's one for the money, Two for the show, Three to get ready, Now go, cat, go!

But don't you, step on my blue suede shoes. Well you can do anything, but lay off of my blue suede shoes.

I actually NEVER heard him sing. Ever. Nor even making anybody happy. But I saw that everybody's is having a good time hearing this. Is that song from that new rock and roll singer, Elvis Presley?

Well you can knock me down, step on my face, slander my name all over the place.

Do anything that you wanna do, but uh-oh honey lay off of them shoes!

He was actually really good! Not just the little dance, but he was quite charmi-!!! WAIT NO! He's teasing you again! I blushed a bit but I hope he doesn't see me like this!

And don't you, step on my blue suede shoes. Well you can do anything, but lay off of my blue suede shoes.

Let's go cats!

Suddenly Kitty grabbed my hands and she wanted to dance to the guitar solo. She was being careful with me due to my side was still healing, but I did my best to play along. I feel like it's been so long that I had a good time like this. Everybody was cheering and having fun.

Well you can burn my house, steal my car, drink my liquor from an old fruit jar.

Do anything that you wanna do, but uh-oh honey lay off of my shoes!

And don't you, step on my blue suede shoes!

Well you can do anything, but lay off of my blue suede shoes.

Rock it!

He was really into his second guitar solo. The kids were really enjoying his performance and they aren't the only ones.

Fine! I admit! He's REALLY good and cool!

Well it's one for the money, Two for the show,

Three to get ready, Now go, go, go!

But don't you, step on my blue suede shoes!

Well you can do anything, but lay off of my blue suede shoes!

Well it's blue, blue, blue suede shoes.

Blue, blue, blue suede shoes, Yeah!

Blue, blue, blue suede shoes, baby!

He made a wink and I had that funny feeling inside of me that makes me say: Let me die, please!

Blue, blue, blue suede shoes.

Well you can do anything, but lay off of my blue suede shoes.

We all applauded for his rock number and I'm doing my best not to look awkward. Why does this rabbit makes me feel... NEVER MIND! I don't want to know! I refuse to even THINK about it!

I then felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned to see Mickey covering his side mouth and whispered.

“I've slipped an address in your pocket. Can you meet me there at that time, alone?”

TO BE CONTINUED... Chapter 27.

Read Chapter 25 here or read the beginning here!

Song: Blue suede Shoes- Elvis Presley.

BBTIM Charaters belong to MArini4. Some OCs belong to me.

Disney Characters belong to Disney and Pikachu to Nintendo.

[avrilsky]

You still wanting prompts for wayhaught cause if so , 23 and or 40

So, this took me forever… And I am really sorry about that. This is a follow up to ‘You Idiot.” but, you don’t actually have to read it to understand anything happening here. I hope you enjoy it!

23: “They didn’t deserve you.” 40: “You know, you can stay if you want to.”

Nicole stared down at the report in front of her, not really seeing it, pen gripped tightly in her hand. She was supposed to be rewriting her report on her and Wynonna’s kidnapping, one that sounded less crazy, one that didn’t document the supernatural things she witnessed, she felt.

Lie. Nedley wanted her to lie and it was hard to do when every time she closed her eyes she saw eyes that burned like fire, sharp nails that glowed like a sword pulled from a furnace and burned just as hot when they sliced through her palm, leaving behind the faint hint of a scar she stared at every morning.

She blinked rapidly until the report came into view and wet her lips, tasting a hint of Waverly’s vanilla lip balm from their makeout session in Nedley’s office a couple of hours ago.

Nicole couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips at the mere thought of Waverly Earp and her little speech on Nedley’s couch, the way she practically jumped her, the way she kissed like she couldn’t get enough, like Nicole was the air she needed to survive.

She had imagined kissing Waverly since the first moment she laid eyes on Purgatory’s sweetheart but nothing she ever imagined came close to what kissing Waverly actually felt like. Nights spent dreaming of what holding Waverly in her arms would feel like didn’t hold a flame to the real thing.

“Haught!”

Nicole startled, slamming her knee into the underside of her desk and dropping her pen, watching helplessly as it rolled off the edge of her desk and hit the floor.

“Sir,” Nicole said through clenched teeth, standing as quickly as her stiff ribs would allow and facing Sheriff Nedley.

She could still see the way he looked at her this morning, after reading over her first report. She still hear his words.

‘If you think it’s anything more than that, then you might as well put in your resignation.’

She wasn’t lying when she said she liked it here. She liked the people, liked that everyone knew everyone in town, it made the job feel more personal. She liked Waverly Earp. And that last thing she wanted to do was resign and have to leave Purgatory, leave Waverly when she just got her.

“You’re friends with the Earps, right?” He asked, leaning his hip against the counter that separated her desk and the other officer’s desk from the public.

Nicole swallowed hard, trying to keep her features neutral and trying not to shift uncomfortably under his gaze. Did he somehow found out what she and Waverly had been up to in his office, on his lumpy uncomfortable couch?

“I would like to think so, Sir.”

“Good. Wynonna is in BBD’s office, she had too much to drink, take her home, will ya?”

“Of course, Sir,” Nicole said, leaning down and scooping up her pen from the floor, capping it and placing it back in the coffee cup she kept her pens in.

She put away the report she had been trying and failing to finish and grabbed her department issue equipment belt, hooking it around her waist and securing her Glock in its holster. She picked up her stetson and placed it on top of her head before slipping on her thick department issue jacket.

“Oh and Haught?” Nedley called on the way to his office, stopping Nicole in her tracks. “Don’t worry about that report, you can finish it tomorrow.”

He rubbed at the back of his neck and met her gaze. “I know things haven’t been easy here for you, but I need you here for the long run, so I need you too keep your head on straight. I need you to be the officer I know you can be.”

It was a strange feeling, someone having so much blind faith in her and her abilities, her potential. Sure, her parents believed in her throughout her childhood and her teenage years but that all changed when she came out to them before leaving for college.

Nicole blinked rapidly to keep the tears forming in her eyes from rolling down her cheeks. She looked up to Nedley and it meant everything that he believed in her.

“I won’t let you down, Sir,” Nicole promised, tipping the brim of her stetson at him, grabbing her keys and moving down the hallway towards the offices Deputy Marshal Dolls and the Earp sisters commandeered.

The door was open and she could see Wynonna leaned back in a chair, feet propped up on the table in front of her and nearly empty bottle of what looked like Maker’s Mark dangling from her fingers.

Nicole didn’t enter the room, well aware that Dolls could be lurking around waiting to try her for treason for stepping foot in the room. Instead, she knocked on the door frame with her first two knuckles, startling Wynonna.

“Sorry,” Nicole said, giving Wynonna a small smile. “You okay?”

Wynonna nodded and made that same unconvincing face she made the night before they were kidnapped.

Nicole hadn’t believed her then and she didn’t believe her now but she was smart enough not to push the eldest Earp.

They had become somewhat friends over the course of the past few days and Nicole didn’t want to ruin that.

“Come on, I’ll give you a ride home.”

Wynonna’s feet sliding off the table and dropping to the floor echoed in the quiet room as did Wynonna setting the bottle on the table with a bit more force than necessary. Nicole wasn’t sure if it was because she was drunk or upset, either way worry blossomed in her chest.

“You sure you’re okay?” Nicole asked, unable to stop herself. As much as she didn’t want to push Wynonna, she wanted to help. It was in her nature.

More than that, she felt protective of both Earp women and she couldn’t stand by silently while either of them were hurting, she wouldn’t.

“You ever find out something about someone that completely shatters the image you had of them?” Wynonna asked, grabbing the bottle once more and taking a long sip.

Her parents came to mind but she pushed thoughts of them away and focused on the woman a few feet away from her.

“Yes,” she said, leaning against the door frame and folding her arms across her chest.

“How do you deal with it?” Wynonna asked, looking over at her and even from her spot against the door, Nicole could see the pain in her blue eyes. “How do you deal with the two conflicting images in your head?”

“You believe in the person you need them to be,” Nicole told her softly.

“So I just believe that Daddy was a good man?” Wynonna stared at the bottle in her hand, picking at the label with her fingernail.

“If that’s what you need, yeah.”

Wynonna looked over at her again and even from her spot at by door, Nicole could see Wynonna’s blue eyes soften. “Thanks Haught.”

“Anytime Earp. Now come on, let’s get you home.”

“Waverly put you up to this?” Wynonna asked, getting up from the table and heading towards Nicole, leaving the bottle of Maker’s Mark behind.

Nicole couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips at the mention of Waverly, though she pushed it down and lead Wynonna through the station with a hand at her back.

“Nedley.”

“How’d you end up in Purgatory?” Wynonna asked, forehead pressed against the window as they drove down the long, empty stretch of road leading to the Earp homestead.

Wynonna had been quiet for the first twenty minutes or so of the drive, staring out her window and bouncing her leg rapidly.

Nicole looked over at her for a few seconds before turning her eyes back to the snowy road. “Nedley recruited me straight out of the academy.”

“And you just up and left your family and friends to live in this hell hole where you know absolutely no one, for a job?”

Nicole tightened her grip around the steering wheel and shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “My family and I haven’t been on speaking terms since I came out to them at eighteen and my friends and I still keep in touch.”

Nicole could feel Wynonna’s eyes boring into the side of her face but she kept her attention on the road. The last thing she wanted to do was talk about her parents.

“No girlfriend?”

“No girlfriend,” Nicole repeated Wynonna’s words, loosening her grip on the steering wheel long enough to re-tighten it.

Wife.

The word bounced around in Nicole’s head and she did her best to ignore it and the guilt that rose up her throat at the fact that Waverly didn’t know she was married.

It was a mistake made in a drunken haze in Vegas and while she and Shae were still technically married, it meant nothing to either of them.

They were still friends though. Shae was probably Nicole’s best friend, who listened to Nicole go on and on for hours about Waverly Earp and how much Nicole liked her, cared for her.

It was Shae that suggested they stayed married for now, so that she could be Nicole’s next of kin instead of her homophobic parents, so that if God forbid anything happened to Nicole on the job where she wasn’t able to make medical decisions for herself, someone had her back, someone who cared would be the one making decisions for her.

“They didn’t deserve you,” Wynonna said after a few seconds, staring back out the window at the darkness passing them by. “Your parents, they didn’t deserve you.”

“You’re drunk,” Nicole said, brushing off Wynonna’s words and how serious she sounded for once.

“I’m always drunk,” Nicole caught Wynonna shrugging from the corner of her eye. “But that doesn’t mean it isn’t true. You’re a good person, a good cop, ya know for a local flatfoot.”

Nicole huffed a laugh and rolled her eyes. “Thanks Earp.”

When they pulled up to the homestead, Waverly was waiting on the porch, a blanket wrapped tightly around her and from the headlights of her cruiser, Nicole could see the worry etched on her face.

Nicole could understand her worry, after everything that has happened to Wynonna in the past few days. Nicole was sure the last thing Waverly wanted to see was a police cruiser pull up, potentially bringing with it bad news.

“Wanna come in?” Wynonna asked, popping the door open but not making any move to actually get out.

Cold air rushed into the cruiser, chasing away the warmth from the heater Nicole had on full blast.

The cold nipped at Nicole’s bare fingers, her ears, her cheeks and suddenly she’s assaulted with the smell of dirt, and snow mix with spoiled fruit and gasoline. She could suddenly taste blood, metallic and bitter.

She felt cold, so, so cold. The type of bone deep cold she felt in that damn ditch.

There’s a phantom pain in her scarred palm and her chest tightened as she tried to draw in a ragged breath. Her fingers dug into the steering wheel, sinking into the soft leather as she tried to remind herself she wasn’t in that ditch anymore, that those haunting red eyes weren’t staring down at her.

“Haught.”

Wynonna’s voice pulled her back to the present, pulled her back from that ditch and the cold.

Nicole blinked rapidly, eyes finding Waverly again, standing across the yard backlit by the porch light like Nicole’s own beacon of hope. Nicole uncurled her fingers from the steering wheel, as the pain in her palm and the tightness in her chest melted away.

Waverly Earp had that effect on her, even from afar. Just the sight of Waverly could calm her, could make everything feel okay even if just for a moment.

“You coming in or?”

Nicole chewed her bottom lip, eyes still locked on Waverly. She wanted to come in, wanted to see Waverly without a windshield between them, she wanted to hear Waverly’s voice, to be wrapped in it’s soothing tone.

She wanted to fall asleep with her head on Waverly’s lap and Waverly’s fingers running through her hair like she did the night she check herself out of the hospital and drove out to the homestead to check on both of the Earps. The night Waverly called her a idiot in anger but with so much affection that it made Nicole’s chest ache.

But she didn’t want to push things, push Waverly.

They hadn’t spoken since Waverly left the station after they kissed with a promise to call her tonight and she didn’t want Waverly to think she was crowding her, didn’t want Waverly to think she was pressuring her for more.

She would wait forever for Waverly if that’s what Waverly wanted. She would stand still for however long Waverly wanted, Waverly needed.

“I’ll just say hi then I should probably get home to the cat.”

“Well, come on then,” Wynonna said, pushing out of the cruiser. “I’m freezing.”

Nicole followed Wynonna up the snowy walkway, eyes on her shoes and hands shoved in the pockets of her department issued jacket.

“You’re late,” Waverly said when they finally stepped up on the porch, slapping Wynonna’s arm. “I was worried.”

Waverly glared at her sister before turning her attention to Nicole. Hazel eyes softening as she gives Nicole her signature smile and wave, only this time her smile is genuine. “Hi.”

Nicole can feel the stupid, goofy grin taking over her face but she’s helpless to stop it. “Hi back.”

Wynonna looked between the two, brows drawn together, like she’s trying to figure something out. After a few tense seconds of looking between both her and Waverly, Wynonna shrugged and Nicole released the breath she had been holding.

It’s not like she didn’t want people to know about her and Waverly. It was just, she didn’t even know how to explain it if someone asked, because she wasn’t exactly sure what was going on between them.

She didn’t know what Waverly wanted from her but she knew what she wanted.

She knew that she wanted to kiss Waverly again and again. She knew she wanted to date Waverly, take her out for nice dinners and surprise her with flowers. She knew she wanted Waverly and everything crazy, weird thing that came with her.

“Are you coming in?” Wynonna asked, already moving to the door.

“Oh, uh, I should probably head out.” Nicole rubbed at the back of her neck. She wanted to stay but she wouldn’t unless Waverly asked her to.

“You know, you can stay if you want to,” Waverly said quietly, giving her a hopeful smile. “There’s plenty of take out for three. Though it’s cold because somebody didn’t come home when they said they would.”

Waverly shot Wynonna a glare over her shoulder and Nicole jumped in without much thought.

“That was my fault, I made her stay until my shift was over so I could drive her home. She had a bit too much to drink and I didn’t want her trying to drive herself home or have you come all the way into town to get her.”

Nicole didn’t like lying or giving Waverly half truths but Wynonna was clearly struggling with whatever she found out about their father and it seemed to Nicole that she hadn’t told Waverly yet. And she just wanted to help, wanted to keep the peace between them.

Maybe it wasn’t her place to step in but she knew they were all the other one had and she wanted to make sure they didn’t lose each other, that nothing came between them.

“Thank you for bringing her home,” Waverly smiled reaching out and touching Nicole’s forearm.

“Yeah, you two do that,” Wynonna waved her hand at them and opened the front door. “I’m gonna go eat.”

Nicole watched her go with a small smile before turning her attention back to Waverly, who was staring at her with soft hazel eyes that held more green than usual.

“You don’t have to lie for her.”

“I’m sorry,” Nicole shrugged and sighed. “She’s just been through a lot lately and I didn’t want you to be upset with her.”

Waverly reached out, her cold fingertips brushing along Nicole’s cheek. “So have you.”

The words are said softly, with worry and affection laced in every single one.

Nicole shrugged, leaning into Waverly’s touch and closing her eyes. “Yeah, well she’s been through worse than me.”

Waverly’s fingers move from her cheek around to the nape of her neck, gripping firmly and bringing their foreheads together. “You’re still an idiot.”

Waverly calling her an idiot still felt so good, still brought a goofy, toothy grin to he face and still filled her with this lightheartedness that she couldn’t really explain.

Nicole grinned, opening her eyes slowly and meeting Waverly’s gaze, brushing their noses together tenderly.

“You were kidnapped too, Nicole. You died and you, like Wynonna deserve a break, deserve to be able to relax,” Waverly said, her free hand reaching for Nicole’s intertwining their fingers. “So come and get something to eat, stay for awhile, please.”

Nicole could never deny Waverly anything and well, she wasn’t about to start now. Not when she wanted to do nothing more than spend the rest of the night in Waverly’s company.

Waverly’s eyes drifted down to her lips then back up, taking her own bottom lip between her teeth. “Can I kiss you?”

Nicole’s heart fluttered in her chest before it started pounding against her ribcage, threatening to beat right out her chest at Waverly’s question.

There’s something about Waverly asking to kiss her that set Nicole’s skin on fire, that left her weak with need to feel Waverly’s lips on her own.

Nicole chanced a look at the door Wynonna had disappeared through moments ago.

Waverly’s hands were at her cheeks again, bringing their foreheads together again, bringing Nicole’s attention back to her. “Nothing is going to pull Wynonna away from that wonton soup.”

“Sure?”

“Yeah,” Waverly confirmed, brushing her lips lightly against Nicole’s. So lightly that Nicole had been sure she imagined it. “Can I kiss you?”

This time Nicole nodded, letting her eyes slid closed when Waverly’s nose bumped hers before their lips connected.

Unlike their first few kisses shared in Nedley’s office, this one was slow, tender but did not lose any of the passion.

The kiss only lasted a few seconds before Nicole’s stomach growling had Waverly pulling away with a soft laugh and a quick kiss to the tip of Nicole’s nose.

“Come on.” Waverly held her hand out for Nicole, which Nicole took with no hesitation. “Let’s get you something to eat.”

After eating reheated take out, Nicole and the Earps settled on the worn couch in the living room to watch ‘Friends’ reruns.

Waverly grabbed the old quilt off the back of the couch and draped it over her and Nicole before her hand slid underneath, searching for Nicole’s.

Nicole felt like a teenager again, sitting on the couch in her parents’ basement, holding the hand of her first girlfriend, heart pounding so loud she was sure everyone could hear it, terrified of her very religious parents finding them like that.

When their fingers intertwined and Waverly brought their joined hands to her lap, Nicole looked passed Waverly to Wynonna, trying to gauge whether she knew what was happening.

Wynonna seemed oblivious to anything going on with her and Waverly. Wynonna’s attention split between the tv and the bottle of whiskey she was cradling.

Waverly shifted in her seat just enough to be able to lean her head on Nicole’s shoulder and Nicole wasn’t so terrified anymore.

No matter what life threw at them, no matter if they got Wynonna’s acceptance or not, Nicole would stick by Waverly’s side for as long as she’d have her.

And God, she hoped Waverly would have, would want her forever.

[rabbitwritesfanfic]

Fever Pitch [Sherlock]

AO3 Link: [Click]

Words: 2425

Fandom: Sherlock

Characters: Sebastian Moran, James Moriarty

Pairing: MorMor

Comments: James Moriarty is ill and being reckless about it. Sebastian tries to keep his boss alive and out of jail.

James Moriarty was not a man to pick a fight with. Anyone with half a brain understood that, even if they never knew the man's name, never saw him beyond a quick glance in a subway station or a crowded club. Unless he hiding in plain sight – which, in his teenage years, had quickly become his favorite activity (“It's like a grown-up game of hide-and-seek!”) – there was simply a vibe about him that set off alarm bells, told people to back up or risk losing a limb.

Unfortunately, James Moriarty was currently running a rather severe fever. Sebastian had noticed it when he'd briefly grabbed hold of his employer's wrist earlier in the afternoon, ostensibly to drag him from the crosswalk the man had inexplicably decided was a wise place to stand and argue with Seb about his comparative lack of planning. James had been quick to remove himself from the sniper's hold once they were safely on the sidewalk, but not before Sebastian had forgotten his place long enough to tell him to take something to bring his temperature down.

Moriarty had glared at him, his public mask slipping just a few inches before he righted himself with a shake of his head.

“Right,” he said, grinning faintly and casting a quick glance around at the people threading past them like water around rock. No one was brave or stupid enough to attempt to step between the two. When Moriarty spoke again, it was with a noticeable American accent. 'Jim' again, playing the tourist, rolling his eyes and lilting his way through his explanations. He clicked his tongue. “Sorry, Tiger– it's been a super long day. But I'm fine, really. It's just a little cold.”

Sebastian forced his hand back to his side. He shouldn't have overstepped like that. James was a grown man. The two of them were close, yes, but there were still limits to what Sebastian could get away with and attempting to tell James what do to was treading dangerously close to the line.

It occurred to him then that they must have looked like a couple to anyone passing them by – the 'rich boy, poor boy' kind that people wrote books about – Sebastian in his suit and long coat, and Jim in his torn jeans and ratty long-sleeved shirt. Just another couple in London, their existence of no consequence to the crowd around them, as easily forgotten as the weather – but just as changeable, just as destructive.

Still, no measure of acting talent could quite hide the rasp that had been steadily working its way into James' voice over the past few days or the way his gait trembled side-to-side just the barest of inches as he moved, gazing 'round like a tourist, through London's crowds. Whatever was causing his fever, Sebastian was beginning to get the feeling it was more serious than a simple cold.

He shook his head as he started walking again. Sometimes Moriarty switched personas so fast it nearly gave him whiplash. He trailed behind his boss as he often did, eyes flicking over faces, hands, coats, cases, looking for anything suspicious. The odds were that they could walk for miles without ever needing Sebastian's observational skills, but the colonel didn't care for walking thoughtlessly. Besides, it helped to pass the time.

The sun disappeared behind the buildings and with it went the warmth of the day. A bitter, biting chill crawled through the side streets James had decided to explore, lashing at them both from the crosswinds. From his place walking along the edge of the roof several paces behind, Sebastian could see him shiver in the stronger gusts, once or twice pausing to cough against his sleeve before pulling the near-freezing air into his lungs with a gasp that must have left his chest aching.

Reckless.

That was the word that swam under the surface of Sebastian's mind, flickering into focus for just a moment during scenes like these before disappearing beneath the waves again.

This is reckless.

Something was wrong. If he were asked later, he wouldn't have been able to explain it, but Sebastian knew the feeling well enough. The air was heavy and charged somehow, like that feeling you get just before a thunderstorm. There was no mistaking it: something was about to happen. He wrapped his fingers around the grip of the small handgun at his back. It wasn't his rifle, but it would be more than enough in most cases.

Up ahead, a collection of alcohol-soaked bodies tumbled around a corner, clinging to one another and laughing loud enough to wake the street. Sebastian made himself hard to spot, crouching and pressing his shoulder against the short wall that penned in the building's roof.

Keep walking, he thought, sharp eyes flickering from face to face. He's no one interesting – just keep walking.

Two stories below him, James coughed hard against his sleeve. He'd been sounding worse and worse as the hours went on, the noise becoming more of a rattling wretch. One of the more lucid of the group spun in a circle before locating the source of the sound and even across the considerable distance, Sebastian saw him grin.

The kid looked James up and down before spinning half-way back the way he came and calling “Hey, look what I found,” to the rest of the gaggle, which looked to be mostly comprised of college-age punks. Then, to Jim, “What're you doin' out so late, honey?”

Moriarty shifted, wavering before scuffing the side of his ratty trainer against the asphalt near the glint of a broken bottle. “I, uh...” he began, sounding younger and unsteady in a faint Irish lilt. “I got a little lost.”

Sebastian braced the gun on the edge of the wall as the drunk moved closer. Damn it, Jim, you're off your game – don't try to play with them.

“Well, come 'ere,” the kid laughed, winding an arm around James' shoulders and halfway dragging him toward the others. “Me 'n my friends - we know this place like th' back of our hands. We'll get ya right where ya need to be.”

Seconds ticked by and Sebastian could feel his nerves being pulled tighter and tighter with each shuffling, off-balance step James took. Do something, Boss.

Then...

“On second thought...” Moriarty dug the heel of his shoe into the pavement, stopping them cold. “I don't think I wanna.”

What happened next happened all at once. James may not have liked to get his hands dirty, but that didn't mean he was anywhere near incapable in a fight. The kid never saw that left hook coming.

Sebastian knew better than to relax. Fights tended to sober people up and there were quite a few still on their feet, most of whom probably wouldn't think twice about jumping into the fray. As if on cue, one of the women ran forward only to be stopped by James clothes-lining her across the throat. She hit the ground next to the first drunk and didn't get back up.

Now the mood was changing. Now it wasn't funny anymore. Sebastian kept the people closest to James in his sights and watched the chaos unfold. It wasn't often that he got to see his boss in action. Most of Moriarty's work was cerebral and calculating, kept at arm's length from anything that required him to start throwing punches... or bodies.

Most of the group scattered when the second man landed solidly on his back on the edge of the sidewalk. Sebastian suspected the angle and force had broken his spine. Served him right.

James rolled his shoulders as he straightened, pausing to shake blood off of his hand. He'd split his knuckles against the first kid's teeth. The colonel's stomach twisted when he saw him tip his head to the side in that reptilian way he did when something truly had his attention. Interesting things tended to happen when James reacted that way.

There were only two men left standing, but they were the largest of the group and had also appeared the most sober at the start of the party. The group's unofficial bodyguards for the night, Sebastian guessed. That might not have been an issue if James hadn't miscalculated.

It was just a small hesitation. The fever was making him shaky, clouding his thought processes. He shifted his weight, then quickly shifted it back to reassess. It wouldn't have been a problem for him save for the fact that the two remaining bruisers noticed and pounced.

The first man was dead before he hit the ground. The second scrambled away from the body with enviable speed, but even blind panic can't outrun a bullet. It was a small consolation that the police would be chewing on this one for a good long while. Better to keep them busy....

The crack of the gunshots faded, reverberating off the buildings until the echoes finally dropped below human hearing, leaving behind a dull ring. Sebastian cursed through his teeth as he scrambled down the fire escape. Lingering around a fresh crime scene in plain sight was never a good idea.

“Time to go, Boss,” he said as he walked up to offer James his hand. “The Yard should be along soon.”

Moriarty ignored him, opting instead for sitting on the sidewalk with his head in his uninjured hand, watching the blood drip from his fingers with an expression Sebastian could only describe as 'sulking'. Under ordinary circumstances, Sebastian wouldn't have even considered what he was about to do, but he doubted that sitting in jail would do much for his boss' temperament, so he made an executive decision.

The second his hand was firmly wrapped around James' arm, he knew something was wrong. James Moriarty was not the sort of man to be bullied and harried and dragged. People who tried always ended up disappearing. So when the man offered no resistance beyond a lagging step that Sebastian soon realized was caused by a lack of balance, everything changed again.

“Come on,” said the sniper. “We're going home.”

                                                            ~ * ~

By the time the apartment door was firmly shut behind them, James had given up pretending he was fine. The crime lord seemed to be holding himself together by a string, leaning against his bodyguard in the entry way as though he were afraid to move unassisted. Sebastian eventually decided that direct action was faster and picked the man up, carrying him across his chest into the small first-floor washroom.

“Basher...” James began, sitting on the edge of the bathtub and leaning most of his weight against the wall. He was trying for the usual scolding tone he employed when he felt ignored, but only managed to clip the target.

“Not now, Boss. Really need to get your temperature down.” Sebastian was careful not to look at James for longer than necessary. He'd didn't care to admit it, but he was worried. He'd never seen him this bad off before, even on the few occasions he had personally fetched him back from certain exquisitely dangerous areas of the world. Whatever this was had him fighting for a full breath, small tremors running the length of his arms, shaking salt and copper from his fingers.

“'m fine.” James lied, swaying where he sat. Then, randomly, “Those kids were fun.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes, checking the water against his wrist. Only James would consider the risk of being beaten to death (or worse) fun. At least Seb had been there to keep things from getting too out of hand. Moriarty's guardian angel... with a nine millimeter.

“There.” Sebastian closed the taps before drying his hands on the edge of his shirt. Warm water was safer and more effective than an ice bath, but he doubted that would stop James from complaining. “Get in,” he said, straightening. When James only raised an eyebrow at him, he continued, “I'm pretty sure brain damage isn't high on your 'Fun' list, Boss.”

“Depends. Are we talking about my brain or someone else's?”

Sebastian responded by looping an arm around Jim's waist and quickly but carefully tipping him into the bathtub. James, of course, came back up spitting water and curses.

“You can trigger a seizure that way, you ass!”

“I know, Boss.”

“You could have warned me!”

“I know, Boss.”

After a few seconds of silence broken only by coughing and spitting, James seemed to give up, curling in on himself. He sulked for a moment before sighing and placing his head on the edge of the tub near Sebastian's arm. “Sorry I worried you, Basher,” he said, nearly too quiet to hear.

Sebastian blinked at him, fighting down the urge to ask him to repeat it. James never apologized. For anything. The man would outlive the devil out of sheer stubbornness. He was also likely to blame his rare show of sentimentality on his 104-degree temperature as soon as he'd recovered a bit and, somehow, that thought was comforting. James' skin already felt cooler to the touch, so Sebastian let himself relax a little, brushing a few damp strands of hair back from his boss' face.

“Thought sure you'd skin anyone who manhandled you without permission,” he said. “Does that make me special, Mr. Moriarty?”

James snapped a hand up from under the water, splashing his bodyguard in the face. Sebastian spluttered and spat, and James laughed before collapsing into a small coughing fit. “I don't know what you are, Sebastian,” he said once he'd gotten his breath back. “But I'm glad you're mine.”

The sniper stopped vainly trying to wipe water from his face. Every now and then he could pry those kinds of sentiments out of his employer, but they were beyond few and far between under normal circumstances. Over the years, he'd learned not to waste them.

Sebastian leaned as close as he could given the tub wall between them, pulling James into an embrace, pressing close to the wet shirt and the too-warm body. These were the small, domestic moments he'd come to cherish over the years he'd worked with Moriarty. No one was dying, no one had to be killed, nothing had to be stolen. Even James' beloved Sherlock hadn't made an appearance. It was just this. Just them. Looking out for one another.

James wound his arms around Sebastian's neck and squeezed. “I could kill you for dropping me in here,” he said, his voice muffled against the man's shoulder.

Sebastian laughed before pressing a kiss to James' hair. “I know, Boss.”

[teachanarchy]

Click Here to Download Action Planning Template

Goals

what are we trying to accomplish – concrete, tangible, winnable. What does victory look like? What do you want the headline to read the next day?

Target

who has the power to decide? Who are we trying to impact/move, what is strategic reason for it/them. If there are multiple sites, which is best suited for an action?

Messaging & Demands

what do we want our target to do, what do we want them to know. Are there other audiences besides the target?

Messenger

who is delivering our message? An impacted person or community leader working on a particular issue is always more powerful and credible than a talking head spokesperson. Is there a process for getting feedback/response from target?

Mobilization

how many people do we need? What are our turnout goals? Who will we reach out to—people, groups etc? What are the recruitment plan, rap, commitment, reminder and follow-up plan? I use a 50% rule…that is what I expect will turn out based on the commitments. So if 100 people say yes, expect 50!

Scenario

what will happen, what does it look like? What are the beginning, middle and end? How will message/ story be told – visuals, words, props, and signs?

The following are the areas of work needed to implement the vision and plan above

Publicity: fliers, ads, PSA’s, emails, mailings, facebook, blogs, calendars etc

Program: Speakers, performers, diversity, culture, participatory, when, where

Schedule: break it down, what happens by who and when, from pack up to clean-up…

Outreach: fliers, door-knocking, phone calls, allies work

Logistics: all the things you need! (See below)

Legal: police relations, permits, etc

Media: press releases, phone calls, spokespeople, media liaison, follow-up

Props: signs, banners, puppets,

Security/Traffic Plan: what is needed? Who will coordinate, train and recruit? We often skip this step, but it is critical for mobile tactics. If groups are crossing intersections or moving through the streets, we need people paying attention to traffic and who are facilitating our safe passage by holding cars back.

Coordination/Prep: trainings in advance and prep meetings day of or day before with as many people involved in filling a role as possible. Make sure everyone is on the same page and schedule, communications, review maps, communications, contingencies, getting everybody on board and knowing who is who and what will happen. This is a really critical step that is often overlooked.

For Civil Disobedience/Direct Action

Scouting and Mapping – of site(s)

Trainings – how we orient and prepare for the plan and risks we are taking, also legal etc

Model of Org – Affinity Groups, Action Teams, Buddies, Clusters, Blocs, Gaggles

Spokes Councils or Tactical Leadership – will it be a small group who will decide and direct or will it be a meeting of representatives of the participating groups or some collaborative process between the two models.

Legal Strategies and Plan – lawyers, observer, laws, jail solidarity, court plan

Police Strategies and Set-Up – do we inform them, get permit, how do we build a web of restraint on them?

Media – press releases, phone calls, spokespeople, media liaison, follow-up

Documentation plan – video, cameras, audio, blogging etc

Street Medics – got some? Do you know where hospitals are, any relationship with EMT’s or fire department?

Communications –scouts, bikes, radios, flags, twitter, text mobs?

Jail Strategies – support outside and inside – Jail Solidarity

Trauma and Healing – when people are hurt or really afraid.

Post Action Legal Follow-up – Courts, Diversions, Community Service. Lawsuits

Logistics – vary depending on event

Date, Time, Place

Route / Maps

Megaphones

Chant / Song Sheet

Sound System

Staging

Permits

Banners

Flags

Signs

Stickers, Buttons, Armbands

Leaflets to Distribute

Armbands, sashes, hats for role identification

Vehicles

Trash Bags

Water

Food

Bathrooms

Transportation

Directional Signs or chalking the sidewalk

Cameras to Document

Things to look for when mapping a city

Highways

Roads / Streets – how many lanes / traffic flow at various hours

Bridges – where they are, are they accessible and how, good for banners, posters etc

One Way Streets

Police stations

Jails

Court Houses

Meeting spaces

Parks

Rivers/waterways

Construction sites

Parking Garages

Heart of the City

Symbolic Locations

Tourist Sites

Community Centers

Public Transportation

Hospitals

Public Buildings, Bus Stations, Libraries,

Some things to look for when scouting buildings:

Security: desks, cameras, personnel

WIFI

Entrances, exits, loading areas, fire escapes

What kinds of doors/door handles: important for planning how to get in and out quickly or how to close down. (As always, keep in mind your goal before doing anything!)

Lobby Lay Out and security procedures

Elevator locations, floors, access

Sidewalk space, landscaping, trees, etc

Windows: visibility in and out

Places for possible banner drops

Parking and parking garages (great for banner drops, which ware great small team actions that can really lift spirits during a demonstration)

Other tenants?

Retail Outlets/Eateries as tenants

Janitor/staff schedule

Other suggestions for mapping and scouting:

Make a map for the people coming into your city with lots of information (don’t forget to include where bathrooms are along your route!)

Phone cameras are a great way to discretely capture important info about locations, maps of buildings, directory of tenants etc

Make yourself invisible, act like you fit in, wear clothes that won’t stand out

Know where you’re going and what you want to look at before you get there. Do online recon first

When making a map, be thorough of what is where, obstructions etc, collect measurements (i.e. number of steps)

Scout at about the same time of day as when the action will be; multiple trips both driving and walking to collect info can be helpful as well

Have a story in case you’re stopped, “students doing research” is generally solid -actually eyeball the location! Don’t just rely on the internet like google earth, for your information, although that can be very helpful!