#anywhere here’s a scene where they make out in an alleyway <3 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ddejavvu · 1 year ago

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Hi!! So I saw your post for Anakin request and I thought of one. Remember that scene where Anakin and Obi wan go in a club? So I was thinking that scene with Reader and Anakin seeing Reader getting hit on and his being a little jelly. Reader gotta remind him that its him that she wants

Debilitating Desire - Anakin Skywalker x Reader (18+)

Summary: Anakin doesn't handle jealousy well. When a sleazy patron of a bar you're investigating decides he's got the right to touch you, and Anakin can't react because your relationship is a secret, he has to save his outburst for later. Unfortunately, he's only able to make it a few steps down the street before he decides he needs you, right here, right now.

Contents/Warnings: jedi!reader, fem!reader, smut (minors dni), p in v, rough sex, biting, overstimulation, semi-public sex (they're in an alleyway), jealousy, reader gets grabbed by the wrist by a creepy guy </3, lots and lots of messy kisses, anakin's a little possessive but is anyone surprised

WC: 5.2K / navigation / inbox / send me anakin requests!

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

Scouting information from bartenders is next to impossible, but scouting it from their patrons is much easier. Loose-lipped drunks are your targets tonight, and you reconvene with Anakin to corroborate information after gathering intel.

"Okay, I've got a Twi'lek male," You start, and Anakin shakes his head.

"No, no, one of the men I talked to said he was Neimoidian."

"Someone else said Rodian," You groan, "Anakin, maybe we should be asking people who aren't drunk."

"Look around," The man before you scoffs, gesturing to the bar full of nothing but reeling, wobbly drunks, "No one here is sober but him."

"He doesn't have a translator on hand," You drawl, looking at the Ithorian bartender who purposefully 'forgets' his translator whenever someone tries questioning him, "And we don't either."

"We're not getting anywhere," Anakin concludes, a sour scowl on his face as he reaches for your waist to lead you out. "No one's sober, so let's just go, and-"

"I'm sober." A raspy, near-hoarse voice comes from a table nearby, and a hand catches your wrist. Your instinct is to reel back but you don't, even when Anakin's hand tries prying you away with its gloved grip on your waist.

It's a human speaking to you, as far as you can tell, and he's leaning back into the shadowy corner of the bar that he'd been occupying. You're not sure for how long, but if he knows anything about the incident you're trying to gather intel on, you'd like to hear it.

"How long have you been here, sir?" You question, tensing slightly when the man's hand stays firm around your wrist.

"Couple hours," He looks smug, knowing he's holding prized information from two Jedi, "Something you'd like to ask me?"

"You've been here for a couple hours and you're sober?" Anakin questions, pressing you harder into his side in his futile attempt to casually tear you away from the man, "I don't believe that."

"I can hold my liquor," The man boasts, voice far more harsh when addressing Anakin than yourself, "Among other things."

Anakin's had enough. He grabs your hand, stealing it away from the seedy man's grasp and scoffing something unintelligible at him. But you yank him back, a tense smile on your face as you tilt your head towards him urgently.

"I'd like to find out what he knows," You speak forcefully, leaving no room for argument even if Anakin is especially good at creating them.

He scowls at you with an intensity that would normally excite you, though you're not sure you're capable of any feeling other than creeped in the bar you're standing in now.

"You're welcome to go back to the transport if you'd like," You narrow your eyes at Anakin, and the man in the booth leans back smugly at the offer, "But I'm going to do my job."

"Yes, boy," The man disregards Anakin's hands clenching at his sides, "Go back to your ship. You're not needed."

"I'm fine here," Anakin snaps, and the second you sit down across from the man, his hands are on your shoulders as he stands behind you. He grips them tight but the gloved hand clenches just a little more into your skin, and the firm grip grounds you, keeping your voice steady when you speak.

"If you've been here for a couple of hours, you probably witnessed an unfortunate incident a little while ago, didn't you? A fight?"

"There's lots of fights here," The man hums, pretending to think on it, "Can you be more specific?"

"The victim had seven blaster wounds," Anakin seethes, hands only tightening in their grip on your shoulders, "You happen to hear seven blasts?"

"Eight." You mutter, pointing at a singed hole in the wall, "One missed."

"Ah, blaster fight," The man in front of you strokes a hand thoughtfully along his stubbled jaw, "Yeah, 'think I can remember something like that. Some incentive might help jog me a bit, though."

You're not sure whether he means money or sex, but you can't rule either out with the way he's staring. You'd have expected the modest Jedi robes you're wearing to deter any wandering eyes but evidently, some people can't be discouraged.

"We don't have any incentive to offer," You narrow your eyes at him, and Anakin takes over.

"Unless by incentive you mean your life. Tell us what you saw, or you'll envy the target of those blasts."

Your annoyance boils just beneath your skin at Anakin's threats, but you know he won't listen to your urgings to be more careful with his word choice. This man doesn't exactly seem like he'd file a formal complaint with the Jedi Council, but if word ever got around that Anakin was threatening unnecessary violence, you're sure it wouldn't go over well.

Despite Anakin's words having been nothing but a bluff, the man changes his tune when he notices the saber clipped to Anakin's belt, your own hidden beneath the edge of the table. He straightens in his seat, sighing in annoyance, "It was two Neimoidians. Dressed real fancy, stood out like sore thumbs in this place. They cornered some unlucky human over there," He points to the corner of the bar where the singe mark hangs over the cheap decor, "She tried to run, but a Rodian shot her down."

"One Rodian?" You ask, and the man nods.

"Hell of a shot." The man muses with a gnarled grin, and that only makes you more worried. Hell of a shot but he'd fired eight? Clearly they wanted this human - who you have good reason to believe was an undercover informant working against the Separatists - dead.

"The shooter and the Neimoidians were working together?" Anakin confirms, receiving another nod from the man opposite you.

"Thank you," You stand, and to your delight, Anakin's hands snake down your back, the strong, gloved one finding your waist again like a magnet.

"I'm here most nights," The man calls out before you can leave, and you turn to glance at him in disdain as he props his feet up onto the dingy table, "Love to see 'ya off duty, sweetheart."

"Go," Anakin spits against your ear, grip on your waist turning harsh. Your breath hitches and you let Anakin practically push you out of the bar and onto the streets, teeming with civilians until you duck into an alleyway three blocks down from the door.

You're immediately backed up against the wall of the building behind you, but you're too fired up to care as you glare at Anakin, "Don't start with me. Threatening him, Anakin? What if Obi-Wan found out?"

"Obi-Wan is going to be too busy tracking down those Neimoidians to care how we got it out of the guy," Anakin scoffs and the exasperated breath hits your face. His expression only darkens further at the mention of the older man, "That's not the point. Did you see the way he was looking at you?"

"That doesn't matter," You assure Anakin with a soft sigh, but from the distasteful curl of his lips into a hard sneer, it does matter. He's standing tall in front of you with ragged, angry breaths coming from his chest, brows furrowed and jaw clenched as he tries containing his upset. It's not aimed at you, of course, but it's a sight nevertheless. He's all sharp features and tense muscles, rage brewing inside of him that's sure to spill over if you don't turn down the heat in time.

"Men like that are creeps," You dismiss, but Anakin is much less eager to let the situation go, still pressing you against the wall of the dingy alleyway, "Women don't talk to him unless he pays them to, is it any surprise he was forward when I approached him for free?"

"But you gave him no indication-" Anakin gushes, poorly-contained rage grating at his rough voice, "I don't understand. I don't understand how I'm supposed to be yours, how you're supposed to be mine, if people like him think you're theirs for the taking."

"It doesn't matter what he thinks, he can't have me, Anakin." You assure him. You know it's hard for him, being secretive about your relationship. Anakin is highly devoted, to his work, to his training, but most of all to you, and to have to stuff that down whenever you're not alone grates on his nerves.

Your answer doesn't seem to persuade him, so you brace your hand against his rapidly rising and falling chest, "He can't have me because I'm yours, Anakin."

Whatever hateful haze has clouded over his eyes clears like fog as he blinks at your words, probably muscling down hot tears of frustration. He surges forwards to kiss you, and it's hard to be upset that you're pressed against a dirty wall when Anakin's mouth is on your own.

His kisses are fervent and desperate, lips relentlessly catching your own between them. They're sloppy as his hands find your waist like there's magnets in your blood, his palms oppositely charged.

"I want you," He pleads, voice rough and ragged, "I want you all the time. I wanted to take your hand in there. I wanted to take more than your hand," He pants, speaking against your lips that have grown dewy from his saliva. "I wanted to grab your jaw-" He mimics the action, gloved hand clenching at your chin, "And- and kiss you, and bend you right over his table and take you."

"Right in his face," Anakin grunts, and you feel his cock beginning to stiffen through the layers of his robes as he presses himself to you. "Right in his fucking face, angel, I wanted to have you."

"You have me now," You breathe, equally as lustful as you press sticky kiss after sticky kiss to Anakin's tense jawline, "Ani, you have me now, and you have me forever."

"Forever," He groans, and you can see his eyes dilate at the thought. He's perpetually breathless as he chooses to spend his oxygen by kissing you once more. It's all heavy pants and strings of drool, appropriate for the dark, damp alleyway you're hidden in; a dirty fuck for a dirty place.

"Anakin," You moan, your pussy pulsing as his tongue smooths over your top lip, "I need you, here-" Your words muffle as Anakin licks flat over your lips, practically drinking the words out of your mouth, "-here and now. I know it's dirty, but I- I need it. I need you. Please?"

"Say it again," He orders, kissing you so that you can't.

You have to speak while he's still dragging his thick, wet tongue over yours, "I need you."

"More," He presses, his nose now nudging at your cheek as he tilts his head, granting himself only deeper access to your warm mouth.

"I need you," You vow, words garbled as he never backs away from your mouth, "Anakin, I need you."

"You have me," He groans, reveling in the pleasure that your words bring him. His hips roll compulsively against yours, grating through the many layers of robes you're both clad in like he can't stop them if he tries. "And I have you. Angel, I've got you, come here."

He says it like you're trying to leave, like you're not smashed flat between him and a wall. But you try anyways, slinging your hand around his neck to drag him in closer.

Anakin was focused on undoing your belt, but when you pull him close with your arm wrapped behind his neck he pauses, eyes closing as he knocks his forehead against yours.

"Ani-"

"He touched you," Anakin remembers, reaching up to take your wrist in his hand. He holds it delicately, bringing it between your faces to kiss the soft skin against the inside, "He grabbed you. He touched you right here," He peppers more soft kisses against your wrist, "Did he hurt you?"

"No," You hum softly, lips still slick with Anakin's spit, "It was just creepy, that's all. It didn't hurt."

"I'm sorry. I love you," He tells the skin of your wrist, and your hand naturally fits against his cheek, your fingertips ghosting over his ear.

"I love you," You repeat him, and his eyes flit back to your own.

"I love you." He rushes in for another kiss, this one just as desperate as the last. His tongue probes freely through your mouth, he's always been good with it, and your cunt clenches around nothing as Anakin's hands slide back to your waist. This time he lets you sling both of your arms around his neck, shuddering into the kiss when your nails scrape up the baby hairs at the base of his neck.

"Fuck," He groans against your mouth, fingers tugging more desperately now on the belt that he's so accustomed to putting on and taking off. Finally he undoes the buckle, letting it slide down to your ankles. You feel dirty as you hear the clatter of your saber against the ground; you're getting stripped and fucked in a dingy alleyway. But It releases the waistband of your pants, and shame gives way to pleasure as Anakin pries eagerly at the clasp.

"Touch me," You beg, and he's one step ahead of you. His hand presses flat to your belly as he snakes it down your pants, his warm skin pressed flush to your slit as he cups your needy cunt. You feel slick gathered in your pussy, and you're sure if he slips two fingers inside, it'll gush over his digits.

"You're warm," He murmurs, and you're not sure whether he means the spit he's lapping from your mouth, or the way your cunt bleeds heat against his palm. Either way, you know he likes it as his hips buck into your own again, pressing his hand further against your pussy.

"Ani," You feel his bulge through the layers of clothing he's sporting, still dragging him impossibly further with your arms around his neck, practically smashing his face into yours. "Ani, I need you inside, please?"

"I'll take care of you," He promises, kissing sweetly across your jaw, and down to your neck, "Angel, I want you to touch me."

"Hm?" Your brain is dazed, comprehending little as Anakin rolls his palm against your clit.

"Use this hand," He reaches for the one that the man inside had grabbed, "Use this hand, angel, and touch me with it. Get me hard, use the hand he touched."

"Okay," You breathe, scrambling for his belt and letting him help you with the hand that's not down your pants. A part of you is worried someone will see the two of you, but halfway disrobed and shrouded in shadow, you're not recognizable as Jedi, nor are these streets ever free from filth; you blend right in.

When Anakin's belt is undone he lets it fall just like your own had, and you gratefully slip your hands beneath the tunic it had been holding down. You have easy access to his pants now, and slipping your hand inside like he's doing to you means you're met with a half-hard dick.

"You're leaking," You observe, as precum oozes from the head of his cock. You smear it around the tip with your thumb, and his hips jerk into your hand. It's an awkward angle that you're at, stroking his dick while he cups your pussy in the palm of his hand, but it's apparently not uncomfortable to him, because with each pump of your fingers around the length of his cock, it hardens in your grip.

"Oh- fuck, get it- get it messy," He pants, straining as he tries not to cum right then and there at the sight of his pre smeared over your hand.

It's hard not to get it messy. His sticky precum oozes from the head of his dick like a steady stream, beads and beads of the stuff smeared away by your hand to help lubricate the measured strokes you're pumping over his dick.

Your fingers are soon tacky with precum, and his dick makes obscene squelching noises as you run your fist down it. He's panting as his palm grinds hard against your clit, and your hips snap into his hands, moving your entire body forwards. It means your fist slides roughly, sharply straight down to the base of his cock, and he bites back a hiss at the slight pain you've inflicted upon him.

"Now," He breathes rough and ragged, "I need you now. Maker, I'm gonna fucking-" He cuts himself off with a grunt, the hand that's cupping your wet heat flipping and twisting to yank the waistband of your pants down. It catches you by surprise, and the tantalizingly small amount of friction you'd been able to gain while grinding against his palm is gone, leaving the cool air of Coruscant's dingy lower levels to shock you.

"Put it in," He orders, his head downturned, forehead pressed against your own, "Baby, put- get me inside of you, I need-to-be-inside-of-you- there y'go."

You use your fist to line up his cock with your needy entrance, his hips more than willing to close the distance to make it easier for you. You don't get a second to adjust to the heavenly feeling of his tip brushing against your folds before he's jackhammering into you, chest now pressed tightly to your own as he slams you once more against the wall.

You let out a garbled scream as you're instantly full, the pace Anakin sets absolutely merciless on your sloppy cunt. You're well wet enough to provide lubrication for his lengthy cock, but just because you're wet doesn't mean you're ready, and the sensation of him bypassing any cautious thrusts and heading right into jackrabbit territory is one that has you crying out.

"Scream," Anakin hisses, his teeth digging harshly into your plush bottom lip. He licks over the stinging bite mark seconds later, the wet muscle sweeping over your own, "Scream as loud as you can, angel. I want him to hear. Tell him," He pulls away from your mouth only to wrestle your face to the side, his gloved hand gripping tight at your jaw.

"Tell him," Anakin urges, kissing and licking sticky stripes up your neck, "Tell that miserable old creep who makes you scream. Tell him who you love, tell him who fucks you into the wall."

"A- Ani-" You try, but it's not good enough for the man still relentlessly pounding his hips against yours. His free hand is gripping the pliant flesh of your ass with a force that surely means your chub is spilling through his fingers, and he uses the grip to hike your leg up, giving him a better angle to destroy your drooling cunt from.

"Louder. Say it louder." Anakin demands, forcing your jaw open with his hand, "Tell him!"

It's terribly difficult to power through the rather attention-grabbing sensation of Anakin's rock-hard cock bullying your wet cunt. He's rougher than he needs to be, balls slapping hard against the flesh of your ass that he's got in his hold.

But you have to try, and with an embarrassingly loud, desperate pitch to your voice, you scream, "Anakin!"

The second his name comes spilling from your lips in a wanton cry he manhandles your face back towards him, jamming his lips over your own.

"Maker," He growls, "You're so fucking perfect. I tell you to scream my name and you do it," He revels in your obedience, tongue licking a hot, wet stripe over your mouth. He holds it open with his fingers pinched into your cheeks but he doesn't venture inside, merely flattening his tongue over your stinging, swollen lips to leave a drooly residue behind. Only once you've been marked does he delve his tongue between your lips, licking at your own like it's his last meal.

"You're so good for me," His words slur together in their intensity, voice thick and raw with obsession, "Nngh, you're so-" You reach down, barely able to coordinate enough brainpower to take his balls into your hand, massaging them as best you can while his hips piston in and out of you at record pace, "-you're so good to me, Angel. More, give me- more, I want more." He begs, the words spilling over your tongue. He grabs tighter at the flesh of your ass, surely bruising the skin and leaving you sore tomorrow.

"Ah! Anakin," You cry, the feeling of his tongue lapping at your own and swapping spit until there's pools of it around your teeth sending a pulse of electricity straight to your core that makes it throb. Anakin feels your cunt convulse, only pushing his tongue further into your mouth. He's a presence; every part of his body is touching every part of your body. He's all-consuming, he's an enigma, he's yours.

Anakin fucks you harder and faster than ever before. All of his strength training must have done wonders because you can't fathom how he's able to generate that much power this fast, but his hips ram into you while his gloved hand releases your ass to pinch at your clit. He abuses the sensitive bud, pinching and rolling it between his fingers to coax more convulsions out of your sticky cunt.

It works.

The pressure that Anakin presses around your clit lights a live wire of hot, heavy arousal that trails up your spine, heat flowing from where Anakin is still latched onto your shoulder right down to your throbbing core. All of a sudden it's too much, everything is too much, and you feel your orgasm hit you like a speeder, knocking the breath out of your lungs as white hot pleasure burns at your cunt. It's a sensation that splatters firework-worthy bliss from your head to your toes, and your thighs tremble as Anakin fucks you through what might be the most intense, violent orgasm of your life.

"Anakin!" You scream.

Everything he does is rough, from the way his teeth nip at your lips, to the way he's trying to suck your tongue down his throat, to the way his fingers bully your puffy clit, to the way the head of his cock pounds into you with enough force to bruise. It's rough, it's messy, it's aggressive, and it's wonderful. You've never felt such pure jealousy radiating off of Anakin before, and you think it's because you've never been able to indulge him so soon after his jealousy blooms. If he's wary of someone in the temple you have to wait until nightfall to fuck, and if the incident occurs any time before dinner he's more mellow when he finally has you. But now it's fresh, now the brand of raging jealousy is still sizzling against his brain, and he's pumping all of the residual heat straight into you.

"Kriff," He grunts, nearly biting the tip of your tongue as he tries latching onto your lower lip, "Cum. Fuck yeah, angel- angel cum for me, cum- aagh! Cum on my dick," He demands, and you couldn't deny his request if you tried. Your pussy clenches wildly around his cock, convulsing with the force of your orgasm and you claw at his back, regretful that you hadn't stripped off his shirt so that you could scratch up his skin.

All too soon the effects of Anakin's pacing and strength flip a switch, and you're twitching in overstimulation added to your bliss. There's a distinct stinging sensation that's now alongside - and possibly contributing to - your residual ecstasy. The ache is a product of Anakin's sharp thrusts, but his movements are getting sloppy, and all the while he spills obscenities in drool over your tongue.

"You're mine. Gonna fucking cum in you, gonna make you mine, gonna- aah!" He rambles, words and spit alike spilling hastily from his mouth and into your own as he struggles to keep himself steady. He's jackhammering into you so fast that you think he could knock you right through the wall if he tried. You're plastered against it, head thrown back and chest heaving as you try not to collapse under the intense amount of sensation you're receiving.

"Ani," You grip at his biceps, dragging one hand up his left arm and digging your nails into his scalp, "Ani- cum, please cum! Please," You whimper, not sure if you're begging because you need the delicious sensation of his release painting your insides, or because you might pass out if your cunt gets fucked by Anakin's stupidly big cock much more than it has been already, "Please cum!"

"You want me to cum?" He asks, a dreadful rasp to his voice as he ravages your mouth. He bites at your tongue, latches on with his teeth like a wild animal and digs them into the squirming muscle until your saliva runs hot, "You want me to cum in you, angel? You want me to fill you up- stuff you 'til you're leaking?"

"Yes," You moan, one hand still clutching his arm while the other tugs at the base of his curls, "Yes, fuck Anakin, please, I need you to give me your cum! I need your cum, please!"

"You need my cum," He revels, a growl lacing the edge of his voice that sends perpetual shivers down your spine, "You fucking need me. Wish that creep could see you now. Fucked stupid, begging for my cum. Beg for it again, baby. Beg for my cum."

"I need it!" You cry, desperate as you yank tighter at his hair, "Anakin, please, I need it!"

All of a sudden he's no longer invading your mouth, his own latching tightly to your shoulder as he sinks his teeth into you.

"Take it," He grunts gruffly against your skin as he latches onto it, dick finally twitching before spurting hot, thick globs of cum into your spent cunt. Nothing is more gratifying than the feeling of Anakin biting at your shoulder while his hips fuck his cum relentlessly into you, and you're sure you'll be sore all over tomorrow morning. He's letting out the filthiest, most obscene string of grunts against your shoulder as his teeth barely avoid breaking your skin, and though your limbs shake with overstimulation your body doesn't move because it's in his strong grip.

The feeling of him cumming inside of you is like a second orgasm of your own. It's not really a release for you, you haven't cum twice, but Anakin's warm cum flooding your core and squelching as he jerks his hips through his climax feels almost as satisfying as if you were the one cumming. His grunts and growls slowly fade as he comes down from his monumental orgasm, and when he unlocks his jaw from around your shoulder, he leaves behind a ring of teeth marks and a sheen of drool on your skin.

"Kriff," He pants, chest heaving and dick softening as he slumps against you. You're not ready for his added weight, but the little strength he has left is used to hold you upright, so you don't flatten beneath his frame.

"Are you okay?" He hums, lips moving lazily against your neck. They're still wet with spit, and you feel the stuff cooling on your skin.

"I'm okay," You decide, "But- but I don't think I can walk, Ani."

You feel him smile, hear him huff out a laugh even though his eyes are drooping, "I'm sorry. I- It's like I couldn't control myself," He admits, breath fanning warm and wet against your neck, "Not after seeing him grab you."

"I know," You stroke a gentle hand through his sweaty curls, happy to be close to him now that your veins aren't pumping lust through your entire system.

"If Obi-Wan asks," Anakin straightens up, his limbs surprisingly strong for how aggressively he'd fucked you, "You got shoved around by a nasty patron, okay? We'll say they caught you by surprise when you were trying to talk to the bartender."

"Okay." You nod, letting him do all of the work in retrieving your belts from the ground and securing yours around your waist. He hooks his own tightly, his saber thankfully unharmed from being dropped.

"Come here," He holds his arms out, but you barely move to help him scoop you up. He does the lifting on his own, letting you sling your spent arms around his neck and laze your head against his shoulder.

Anakin makes it out of the alleyway, but when he should turn left towards your speeder, he veers right.

"Anakin," You frown, lifting your head wearily to see him approaching the bar again, "Anakin, our speeder's the other way."

"I want you to talk to him," His voice is firm, not much of its honey-sweetness left that had been there after you'd fucked in the dingy alleyway, "I want you to stand there, while I hold you up, and I want you to inform him he'll be questioned by the Jedi Council about what he saw. I want you to lie to him while my cum drips down your legs, angel." He murmurs, his words impossibly filthy even for the setting you're in, "Can you do that?"

"He won't be examined by the Council," Your hazy brain struggles to keep up, "What do you mean?"

"Lie to him." Anakin repeats, eyes slightly darker than they usually are, "Make him afraid while your pussy leaks my cum."

"Okay," You nod willingly, letting Anakin brace your feet on the ground with one of your arms slung over his shoulder to lead you into the bar. Your legs are shaky, you look a mess, but you could be perceived as someone coming away from a nasty fight, so you hold your head high and try to control your thoughts.

"There," Anakin murmurs, spotting the old man where he's already watching you from the corner, "Do it, angel."

Anakin leads you over, stopping short in front of the man's table so that he can't touch you again. He looks pleased at your return, albeit confused as to why you're a mess.

"The Jedi Council wants to speak with you," You recite obediently as the man's eyes widen slightly in apprehension. You can already feel the slow trickle of Anakin's thick cum leaking down your thighs now that you're upright, and it almost distracts you from what you're saying. "They want to know your role in the fight, and what you observed if that's truly all you did. They suspect that you might be working against the Republic, and-"

"I'm not talking to the Jedi Council," The man's face curls into a sneer and his voice is gruff, but not pleasantly so, like Anakin's. He stands from his seat rather uncoordinatedly and bolts for the door, surely expecting you to chase after him. But you don't, you couldn't if you tried, and Anakin gathers you back into his arms.

"Good." He hums, resisting the urge to kiss your forehead for fear of outing your relations, 'You did good, angel. I'm proud of you."

"We'll have to sneak into the temple without interception," You plan as your head rests once more on Anakin's shoulder. He navigates the crowded bar perfectly with you in his arms, and this time he turns towards your speeder like he's supposed to. "Obi-Wan will be waiting for us, but you can tell him to gather the Council, that way we'll have time to clean up."

"Oh, no." Anakin's chuckle is dark as he lowers you into the seat of your speeder. He kisses at your forehead, strokes away a bead of sweat at your hairline, "No, angel. You'll speak to the Council the same way you spoke to that lowlife. With my cum dripping down your thighs."

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bi-bard · 3 years ago

Text

I Stumbled in at the Wrong Time (Pt.4) - David Budd Imagine (Bodyguard)

Title: I Stumbled in at the Wrong Time (Pt. 4)

Pairing: David Budd X Reader

Other Parts: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Requested: Nope

Word Count: 1,613 words

Warning(s): mentions of bombs, death, and violence

Summary: After losing Julia, (Y/n) was heartbroken at David's sudden silence. However, (Y/n) was more heartbroken at how the two of them reconnected.

Author's Note: This is the second to last part. The last part is going to be an epilogue more than anything.

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

I didn't see David after the day at the hospital. He was busy, I knew that. I also knew that he wasn't really my bodyguard, he was Julia's.

I still wish he was there.

He was obviously in pain. I was still in pain and all I wanted was to have someone there that could understand my pain.

I didn't leave my room in the safe house. They still wouldn't let me go home so I laid in a bed that wasn't mine and tried to grieve.

One day, I finally woke up with enough energy to get out of bed and get ready. I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror.

At first, I noticed the results of my crying. Tired eyes, messy hair, distinct parts of my skin that look like I had cried. It was awful.

Then, I could only see Julia. I could see every similarity I had to her. It was like whatever force was in power was taunting me. Reminding me that I had to cope with Julia being stolen from me.

"You did so much more than I could," I mumbled quietly, like a prayer to her. I leaned down, rinsing my face with water.

I was finishing up my process of showering, getting dressed, and my other things when there was an emergency broadcast on the news.

I watched for a moment before my breath stopped.

David. In the middle of a park. A bomb strapped to his chest. He looked panicked. He was yelling something but it didn't seem like anyone was even attempting to listen to him.

I jumped when the door opened. A bodyguard was standing there.

"We need to evacuate," he explained quickly.

I followed him until we got outside. I asked where we were going. Once I found out what direction he was going, I ran the opposite way. I wasn't sure why I thought that this was a good idea. I wasn't going to be of much help but I felt a need to be there.

I found the group there. The police and... the woman that I was assuming was David's ex-wife. I walked over, ignoring the officers trying to keep me away.

"You're Julia Montegomery's sibling," one of the officers said as I kind of shoved my way into the group. "You need to go."

"No," I replied simply.

"We have reason to believe that this man is behind your sister's death," she explained.

"Good thing I know better."

Blind faith was not something that I was used to but David and I had been through a shit ton together. In a matter of maybe weeks, I felt like we were connected on a different level than most.

I'm pretty sure they called it trauma bonding.

"David," I called.

"(Y/n)," he called back, confused. I nodded. "What the hell are you doing here?"

I shrugged. I didn't know. I needed to be though, I just knew it.

I turned to look at his ex. She seemed confused to see me.

"You're the one he was on the phone with," she mumbled. I thought she was going to be angry with me. I nodded. "You really helped him that night... I'm sorry about your sister."

I nodded again, not sure how to respond.

The rest of the experience was a blur.

David led the entire bomb squad out of the park, down the road, and to an alleyway that I didn't recognize. He knelt on the ground, holding his arms out. He was talking about something, something to do with my sister's death but I didn't understand a word of it.

The people were talking about how best to defuse the bomb, the danger of someone being there to do it, or the risk of David doing it on his own when he didn't know.

I was too worried to care about my own safety. I grabbed their camera and the kit, walking it over to where David was.

"(Y/n), get out of here," David snapped quietly.

"Shut up," I mumbled. I turned to the police. "Tell me how I need to move this thing!"

"This is so stupid," David said.

"I'm not defusing it," I replied. "I'm just trying to speed up the process before they let you die."

"I didn't choose to do this... I didn't- I didn't kill Julia."

"I know," I looked him in the eye as I laid out the kit they had. I moved the camera however they told me.

When I moved back, I stayed next to the camera. I didn't want to leave David during this time. I couldn't. I physically couldn't pick my legs up to walk away from him.

"How many times are we going to be connected by an explosive," I asked.

David had just taped the weight down on the dead man's switch. He looked at me for a moment as he stretched his cramping hand.

"I hope this is the last time," he replied. I grinned a little. "Coffee would be better."

"Are you making a joke right now?"

"Coping, sorry," David muttered before looking to the group of people for the next explanation.

He was just finishing up the process when he looked at me again. I picked my head up a little bit, letting him know that I was here to help.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. I furrowed my eyebrows.

He finished the process, took off the vest, and then ran. He jumped over the half-wall on the other side of him.

"David, no," I yelled, going to look over the wall's edge.

A cop grabbed me, leading me away from the scene before I could even look for him.

After that, I didn't hear anything. I watched the news as much as I could but no one had any new information. The cops wouldn't tell me anything, despite keeping me in their main office for an extended period of time.

I was finally led to the safe house hours later.

They wanted to move me because David was still considered dangerous. I held onto my blind faith, refusing to go anywhere.

"I have guards and he can't scale a building," I explained. "I'm fine here. I'm safe."

I shut the door in everyone's face. I was not going to spend my life jumping from safe house to safe house. I wanted to go home but I didn't get everything I wanted.

It was the next day maybe when I heard about the arrests and the developments in the case.

"Sir," I asked the bodyguard outside my door as he hung up his phone.

"Mr. Budd has been proven innocent," he confirmed. I smiled widely. It was the happiest I had felt in weeks.

"I wanna meet with him," I said quickly, going back into my room to get dressed and cleaned up.

I was sitting at the counter of a small cafe, my obnoxiously sweet coffee sitting in front of me. I would drink it but it was too hot and I was honestly too nervous.

I looked at the door as David walked in and started walking over to me.

I stood up, taking in his appearance. Tired eyes, bruises and cuts on his face, and hair that was an absolute disaster. He seemed overwhelmed seeing me.

I grinned, tears in my eyes.

"Thank you for trusting-"

I hugged him tightly. He stopped talking, clearly not expecting the hug. I was usually good with boundaries... well I thought I was. I felt David slowly hug me back.

"Thank you for trusting me," he mumbled into my ear.

"It was really easy," I said quietly, chuckling through the tears building up in my eyes. I slowly stepped back, "Sorry."

"It's okay," he nodded.

We sat down at the counter after David had gotten a drink. We were talking about everything. What happened on the train, what happened to Julia, the fact that he was just almost named a terrorist. All of it.

"It's strange to think about," I said. "We are only in each others' lives because of tragedy."

"We can help each other," David suggested. "Heal together."

"'Together,'" I asked.

The idea seemed sweet at first glance but it didn't sit right in my stomach. Something told me that doing this wasn't going to be a good idea. Linking our progress wasn't going to be good for either one of us.

"David-"

I was caught off guard by David leaning over and kissing me. It was soft, nervous. I almost got lost in the moment before I realized what I wanted to say. I put a hand on his chest, pushing him back slightly.

"David," I said softly as I pulled away. I wanted nothing more than to kiss him again. "I'm sorry."

I leaned back completely.

"I... I don't think this is healthy," I explained. "I want to be with you, I do... more than anything. But neither one of us is okay. Not right now. I think going forward now would be good for us."

David slowly started nodding, leaning back, away from my hand.

"I'm sorry-"

"No, no, I understand," he replied.

There was a moment of silence.

"Maybe one day," he asked quietly.

"Maybe," I replied, grinning at him.

Soon after, we went our separate ways. I tried to hide any of my tears as I was led back to the safe house. I instantly started packing my bags. I was going home as soon as possible to pursue normal life... with the addition of much-needed therapy and professional help.

I had stumbled into David's life at exactly the wrong time... and nothing broke my heart more.

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

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girl-of-many-fandoms · 4 years ago

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Forbidden 2

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: You’re Tony’s sister and you just so happen to be very attracted to the one man that gets on your brother’s nerves, Steve Rogers. Unknowingly to you, the older man also has his eyes on you despite your circumstances.

Warnings: 18+‼️ mentions of oral (Fem receiving)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

MASTERLIST

———

Soft music played in the backgroud as chatter filled the main floor of the Avengers compound. Scanning the crowd of Tony's guests you quickly found the familar group of superheros scattered around the room, each conversing with people they haven't seen in a while

Bringing your glass up to your lips you downed the rest of your champange, placing the empty flute on the counter before you began maneuvering through the crowd mumbling quick "excuse me" and "pardon me" as you brushed past someone in your way

The city lights came into view as you came closer to the door that lead to the terrace. Pushing the glass door opened you stepped into the chilly night air. You shivered slightly as your barely there, off the shoulder red dress failed to provide warmth

You went directly to lean onto the railing, taking in the beautiful sight of the city lights in the distance, wishing that you could be anywhere but at this stupid party. You had tried to sneak off to your room already for the night but your brother had F.R.I.D.A.Y alert him when I made it to the elevator

So far you'd been hit on by a number of men, all the same, just different fonts. Suites and ties, hair slicked back with an insane amount of hair gel, nothing to offer more than an unfulfilling one night and money

You started laughing to yourself as you remembered the last man you hooked up with at one of these things. What was his name? Brad...Chad? Whatever it was, he was horrible, he tried to return the favour by eating you out and you all but laughed when he started rubbing your left lip instead of your clit and asking if that was turning you on

Till this day you still couldn't decide what was worse, the fact that he missed your clit the entire time, his horrendous dirty talk or the fact that you let all that happen in the backseat of his car in a dark alleyway

"What's so funny gorgeous?" snapping your head to the side you immediately stopped laughing as you came face to face with the same man you were just thinking about

"Oh, hi nice to see you again..." he saw that you were wrecking your brain to remember his name and he chuckled

"Charlie"

Where the fuck did you get Brad or Chad from that Y/N?

Forcing a smile on your face you accepted the kiss he placed on either sides of your cheeks, hoping that he'd take a hint and leave you alone but he's too oblivious

"Right, Charlie...w-what are you doing here?" reaching up you scratched your imaginary itch on your scalp, not wanting to be rude you started up a conversation, fighting the urge to scale down the side of the building and disappear

"Tony invited me, I wasn't going to miss the opportunity of seeing you again" he looked around the terrace to make sure that it was just you two before leaning closer to your ear

"Especially after last time" cringing you created some space between you two, he took that as a chance to trap your body between him and the railing

He started kissing nape of your neck causing you to turn around. Placing your hands on his chest you pushed him off of you, severly uncomfortable with what just happened

"Charlie, stop" the man reaked of alcohol and he was on a mission of making the worst mistake of his life. He held onto your wrists, moving them down to your sides as he continued to press himself into you, hands running up your exposed legs, you didn't want to cause a scene by kicking his ass right now

Steve's blood boiled the longer he watched this man force himself onto you. You shoved the drunk man off of you, ready to try and talk him down but Steve barged through the door and grabbed the collar of his shirt before he could get his grimy hands on you again

"Let me go man" Charlie tried to break loose but Steve held down his shoulder, making it seem like they were having a regular conversation to anyone watching from inside

"You've got two options pal, you can walk out of here without causing a scene or I cause a scene and security has to escort you out" Steve's grip tightened on his shoulder and you could visibly see how much pain Charlie was in

Charlie seemed to sober up enough after being threatened by the Captain America. Gulping he glanced up at the hard look on Steve's face before looking back at me

"I'm sorry, I'm- I'm leaving" Steve removed his hold on the man and he scurried away. Your eyes trained on his retreating frame as he headed straight to the elevator on the other side of the room

"You alright?" slowly drawing your eyes to the man stood before you, you nodded still processing what just happened, turned on by Steve's protective side

"Yeah, thank you Steve" shooting him a small smile you stared into his blue eyes as he started to calm down. You allowed yourself to take in what he's wearing

A dark blue button up tucked into a pair of dark wash jeans with his belt fastened on his waist. His dirty blonde hair was styled just the way you liked. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows putting his forearm on display

His entire look was enough to make you forget where you were and jump his bones right here on the terrace where everyone could see. Clearing your throat you turned away from him in hopes of hiding the blush that tainted your cheeks

Steve looked down, biting back a smile knowing that you caught yourself checking him out. If he was being honest, he spent the most of his night staring at your from across the room admiring the way your red dress hugged every beautiful curve of your body trying to find something to talk to you about without thinking back to the night he heard you pleasing yourself

You both gazed up at the stars above in silence, enjoying each other's company

"You look beautiful" Steve complemented you eyes still looking up at the starry sky

"Thank you" blushing you stole a glance at the super soldier just as he turned looked over at you, awakening the butterflies in your stomach

"There you guys are, everyone's clearing out. The team's gathering in the living room once the building's empty, bring drinks on your way there" Natasha spoke from the doorway eyebrows quirked assessing the both of us, shooting me a sly smirk

"Let's head inside, it's getting colder by the second" he gestured for you to walk first and you did brushing past Nat making your way to the bar. The sound of your heels clicking against the tiled floor echoing throughout the room as you tried to put some more distance between you and Steve

"It all makes sense now" she mocked and I rolled my eyes trying to ignore the redhead

This is going to be an even longer night

-----

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#captain america #captain america x female reader #captain america x you #captain america x reader #captain america x y/n #captain america smut #steve rogers #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers smut #chris evans #chris evans imagine #chris evans x reader #chris evans smut #chris evans x female reader

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ground-riot-jack · 4 years ago

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Number 1 |k. bakugo| chapter 2

ok so chapter 2 is here!! Please enjoy and feel free to give feedback or just come say hi in my inbox!!

summary: you’re pro hero Angel, you work at an agency your boyfriend, Katsuki Bakugo, created. When you finally hit number one your world seems to crash around you.

"Angel? You have a case,"

You look up from your desk and see your secretary standing there with a case file pointed towards you. You stand from your reports and walk towards her.

"Give me the run down," You say opening the file and looking at it.

"The Hero Commission has been surveilling an underground group of villains, their mission is plain and simple destruction, to cause mass panic. The commission believes it's a much smaller and less organized branch of the league of villains since some members have been seen communicating." She begins as you walk to the conference room where the agency's team goes over cases.

"It says here their preferred method is mass shootings? Why hasn't the police already handled this?"

"Because the leaders' quirk is gunfire, hands made out of guns and as long as he can breathe he can make bullets" Kirishima interrupts, joining you in your walk to the conference room.

"So this is an open and shut case? Stop the bad guys before they get a chance to shoot and take them into a quirk-free facility?" Why do we need the whole team?" You question as you walk into the room.

"Because while the leader is the one doing all the shooting the rest of the group is inciting the panic, taking out police on the scene, killing victims who manage to survive, and making things a lot more complicated" Kiri sighs, taking his seat. You nod in understanding and take a seat beside him.

"Have you talked to him?" Kiri whispers as the rest of the agency's team begins filing in their seats.

"I'm not sure what to say Eji, if he wants to make things better he will apologize, until then, I don't know how we can go on." You sigh, you hadn't gone back home even though it's been 3 days, of course, you still go to work but today will be your first time seeing Bakugo since the fight. He hasn't reached out to you and you know it's because of his ego, but you weren't here to get into a pissing contest with your boyfriend.

"Y/n he is sorry, you know-"

"Alright, everyone here's what we know" Kirishima is interrupted by Bakugo's thundering voice entering the room. His eyes quickly scan and land on yours, but you look away.

While he goes over basic intel, you stare at the pictures of the group in your case file, trying to avoid his glare. You can feel it but trying to combat Katsuki head-on in a large setting like this will cause nothing but trouble.

"Angel, you, me, and red riot will be second. Once our target is in sight, we get him. I want that bastard in custody alive, can you handle that?" You pipe up at the mention of your hero name. You give a quick yes and shut off your feelings. You had a job to do, people to save, you can’t let your relationship drama jeopardize that.

"RED, He's heading towards you, me and ground zero will cut him off on the right!" You speak into your headset as you fly into action with Bakugo.

"Copy"

"I can get him, watch my back."

"Wait, I have a better vantage point, he won't see me coming."

"I said-"

"Now is not the time Katsuki, your explosions are too noisy, he’ll know who's coming and from where if you go.'

"Damn right, gives him time to be scared" He growls

"Just cover me and when I give you the signal, blast him. That's an order Ground Zero." You both hated when you ordered each other around, but you don't have time for Bakugo's pettiness when it's the middle of a battle.

"Whatever angel."

You fly up and head in the direction of the alley where Kiri is waiting, there one entry point but 2 exits so it's important you do this right. You watch as the leader of the group runs into the alleyway, you slip into the right exit and blast him with light. He fires his guns at you as you dodge them. Then he does something unexpected, he runs into a door in the alleyway.

"Ground Zero! He just entered a door that leads down somewhere, I'm going after him.

You hear Kiri say wait in your comms but focus on chasing the villain. You stop in an empty room, you can hear the rumbling of the battle going on above you on the street. You look around cautiously trying to find him.

"Oh angel, for a number one hero, you sure are naive." You hear a disembodied voice. You blast light from your hands like flashlights to look around

"Come out coward, we don't want you dead, but ill do it if I have to." You keep searching the room but can't find anything.

"Oh, feisty, that's not very holy of you angel." You spin around at the voice but find nothing. You hear an explosion back from where you came, you turn around to go find bakugo but as you're running you're snatched from the side.

You begin kicking and moving your wings as much as possible, causing the attacker to drop you. You spin around and find the Gunman with 2 other men, where had they come from. You decide to attack the gunman first and dive into a heavy fistfight. You’re flying around dodging not only his hands but the bullets that fly from them. You hear another explosion and the ceiling begins to crumble, you look for an exit but can't find one, where did you come in from anyway? You fly away from the men firing at you and try to exit from a rusted door but the stairs have been blocked by rubble. You try to radio someone, anyone but the lines have gone dead.

Another explosion goes off and the room begins collapsing, you look up and see light, an exit. You fly quickly but a large price of rubble falls and smashes your wing in between rocks. You pull and pull as the room continues to crumble finally ripping a large piece of your wing off. You scream in agonizing pain but try your best to fly towards the hole that’s getting smaller. As you approach it smaller rocks fly at you, hitting your face and body, some leaving scratches and others staying lodged in your skin.

You manage to exit and find yourself in another alley. Your legs hurt too much to stand so you try to crawl but your arms fail you. You lay on your back and let a tear fall, this isn’t how you end, is it? Bakugo would find you, he always does. Your vision blurs and your head is pounding, you let out a final deep breath before falling unconscious.

Muffled sounds stir you from your sleep. You open your eyes and sigh. Maybe someone’s come to help you, your heart begins to pick up at the prospect of being saved. You attempt to move but still seem to hurt to move more than your toes and fingers. Your tired eyes move back to where you heard the sounds but you can’t see anything other than the hidden alley you’re splayed out in.

“T-That’s her wing!” It’s Katsuki! You’d recognize that voice anywhere. Finally, your love has come for you, you’re already imagining the warm bath you’ll take when you get back to the comfort of your home. You begin to speak, but your voice won’t rise above a raspy whisper.

Then as if the nightmare wasn’t bad enough, another voice speaks.

“You’ve done the right thing Ground Zero, you belong in that number 1 spot, and to get there sometimes you have to do bad things for the sake of the greater good. Angel was a threat that needed to be eliminated, and the commission will not forget your assistance and continuous efforts. Congratulations” You hear the man pat Bakugo and walk away, before another set of footsteps, presumably Katsukis, follow after.

Tears fall from your eyes as you whisper scream in intense agony. It couldn’t be true, he would never do that, would he?

“It’s best you try to speak” A voice whispers beside you. You turn your head too fast and your vision blurs.

“W-who are you?” You whisper, gasping for air in between waves of pain.

“Don’t worry. Just rest, you’ll feel better when you wake up.”

#bnha imagines #bnha x reader #bnha smau #katsuki bakugo imagine #bakugou imagine #bakugou #bakugou x reader #katsuki x y/n #katsuki bakugō #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki x reader

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thedumpsterqueen · 4 years ago

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Standards of Performance, Chapter 12: What Happens in Alleyways

From the Beginning, Previous Chapter

AO3 Link

Sorry it's a lil short, it's more of a transition chapter to actually jumping into this case and Reader's now even more confusing "relationship" with Hotch. Things get kinkier and angrier and more explicit from here, but I'll do my best to tag stuff. Thanks for your patience as always, guys, especially amidst the dumpster fire that is current events right now <3 Your reblogs and tags slay me and I love it.

Summary: You’re the BAU’s newest intern, desperate to prove yourself amongst an established team of much more experienced profilers. Agent Hotchner, the seemingly infallible team leader, sets strict expectations for your performance. He commands your respect without even trying, but is there something more to your relationship than a simple desire to impress your stony-faced boss?

Chapter Summary: Turns out, the world doesn't stop on its axis just because you had sex with your boss. You’re unsure whether or not that’s a good thing.

Words: 1,882

Rating: Explicit, 18+. Violence, dark themes, explicit sexual content. More specific warnings on AO3.

Pairings: Hotch x Reader, Hotch x You

You awoke to the dim light of the dawn, rain gently pattering on the windows, and the blaring sound of Hotch’s ringtone three feet from your face.

“Jesus christ, old man,” you groaned, blinking your eyes open, “turn your hearing aids up.”

Already sitting up in bed, he paused with the phone halfway to his ear.

Shit. You were being too casual - waking up in his bed, joking with him. Acting like you belonged there. You didn’t know how he felt about what happened, for all you knew he regretted every second and-

“You’re paying for that later,” he smiled before answering the call.

The playful threat filled you with relief before it made your stomach flip, and the memories of last night came flooding back. His body, his eyes, his hands all burned inside your eyelids as if you’d been staring directly at the sun. You’d never been in this situation before - waking up next to someone you’d spent the night with and desperately hoping it was the first time rather than the last. But you’d also never felt your body sing with the white-hot pleasure it did when it was touched by the seemingly unattainable man who did so last night, so. There was that.

The low rumble of his voice brought you back to the present, and you looked up at his face to find it was twisted up in concentration, resignation, and something else.

“I’ll be right down,” he said, standing up swiftly and pulling his work clothes on with practiced speed. “Don’t let anyone touch anything.”

He shoved his phone in his suit pocket and looked at you, still tangled up in his sheets.

“Get dressed and meet me downstairs,” he said, terse. “There’s a body in the alley outside the building.”

“Outside this building?”

“Yes,” he responded, “and there’s a note.”

As he swept out the door, leaving you reeling, you realized what the other expression on his face was. Fear.

***

Hotch had gotten ready and exited the apartment before you had even processed the situation, and your mind was racing a mile a minute as you flung yourself out of bed and scrambled to get dressed. The logical assumption, of course, was that the stalker had left the body. People didn’t just end up dead in alleyways in this part of town, and certainly not in the middle of a rainstorm mere floors from where the BAU Unit Chief slept - not without a reason.

You threw on your coat and boots, forgoing contacts and makeup in favor of your glasses and a hat to cover the tangled mess last night’s tryst had made of your hair. Without even pausing to look in a mirror, you scurried down the stairwell and exited the lobby into the cold October wind.

It was easy to tell which alley the body occupied - there were an excess of thirty people milling in and out of the space to the right of the building. Crime scene investigators, policemen, and other personnel talked in hushed voices. You spotted a clearing in the sea of people and knew that’s where the victim would be, given a wide berth per Hotch’s instruction.

The team hung out at the edge of the circle watching Reid, who was kneeling in front of the body slumped against the side of the apartment building. Moving closer, you could tell he was in the middle of one of his spiels, gesturing wildly while the everyone nodded along. You joined the group that had formed around him and caught the middle of what seemed to be a hypothesis about victimology.

“ -no patterns, obviously, but if we assume similar characteristics would be present in all his victims, it’s hard to discern what statement he could be making. Positing a male in his mid-to-late twenties is statistically most likely, but stalkers of this age group also frequently have some sort of sexual motivation, and if the autopsy is consistent with what we can observe now,” he gestured to the body, “I don’t think that’s the case here.”

Throughout his speech, you’d been scrutinizing the victim - a brunette women who looked to be no older than 20, arranged in a half-sitting position against the wall behind her. There was no blood anywhere you could see, in fact, she barely looked dead at all, likely thanks to the below-freezing temperatures last night that had put a pause on the early stages of decomposition. Pinned to her shirt was a white envelope that bore an ominous message in bold, black ink:

“For my friends at the BAU.”

Not hard to guess who had killed this woman.

“Can you determine cause of death, Spence?” Prentiss asked, her arms folded.

“I’m not sure, but if I had to guess…” he used his pen to push the victim’s hair to the side, exposing a neck mottled with stark blue bruises.

“Anger, then,” you offered, speaking to the psychological drivers behind strangulation, “but I doubt we’ll find any sign of sexual assault. The unsub made it clear that his disdain is directed towards us; it’s not likely that would extend to his victim.”

The rest of the team nodded in thought, but Hotch looked at you in surprise, as if just noticing your presence. As his eyes glued on yours, his face changed, and he grabbed your arm in an unpleasantly tight grip.

“Open the note. I’ll just be a moment.”

Unaware of his boss’ sudden change in demeanor and the vice on your elbow, Morgan gloved up and reached for the envelope. Hotch, meanwhile, unceremoniously dragged you down the alleyway and around to the deserted back side of the building.

“What the hell?” you hissed, yanking your arm out of his grip.

“Did you fail to look in a mirror before you came down here?” Hotch’s narrowed stare betrayed nothing but contempt, and you scrambled to determine the implication of his question.

“I’m sorry, did you want me to take a shower before looking at the dead body? I did the best I could, it seemed urgent -”

“No,” he snapped, “I’m referring to the fact that your neck looks worse off than our victim’s does.”

You processed his words for a moment before the implication hit you.

“Are you talking about the hickies?! Christ, Hotch, I’ll get a scarf then. Just give me a second!”

“Please do. I’d like my agents to appear professional, not like they’re college kids coming off a one night stand.”

His words halted your stomp back into the building, and you turned back, furious.

“You put them there! How is this my fault?”

“I didn’t think I would have to be this explicit about the fact that I don’t want the fact that we had sex last night broadcast to everyone at the crime scene.”

You gaped at him in disbelief.

“Are you embarrassed or something? I’m sorry if you regret what happened, but you don’t need to lash out at me like this -”

“I’m not lashing out,” he interrupted, “I’m informing you of my expectations for my agents. Is there a problem?”

You wanted to scream at him. You wanted to smack that perfectly raised eyebrow and controlled expression right off his face. But he was boxing you in - speaking to you as your boss and not the man you slept with last night, and as much as you hated him for it, your sense of self-preservation won out.

“There’s no problem,” you mumbled, unable to make eye contact as you slipped past him and around the building.

You made it halfway up the stairwell before the tears started flowing. Had you really thought sleeping with him was going to change something? That he was going to ask you to be his fucking girlfriend, like he wasn’t the chief of your unit and you weren’t a twenty-something intern? For all you knew, he did this all the time. His level of skill in the area certainly made it seem like he did.

That wasn’t true, though, you knew it. He may not reveal much, but you could tell it had been a fraught decision to let your relationship develop the way it had. Perhaps even a decision he regretted now - and it certainly seemed so, given his behavior.

Wiping tears on your sleeve, you fumbled with the spare key he’d given you to his apartment and walked in. You glanced in the mirror by the entrance and your eyes nearly bugged out of your head. Hotch wasn’t exaggerating when he likened the marks to strangulation - indigo smudges, still peppered with the angry red of burst capillaries, circled your throat.

It was a juvenile, possessive, ridiculous display, and Hotch was absolutely right to label it unprofessional. And yet, the thought that you’d walked onto the scene bearing the marks he’d given you filled you with a thrill so intense you had to brace yourself against the entryway table and clamp your legs together.

Breathe. There’s still a fucking murder scene downstairs.

You steadied yourself and headed for your duffel bag, where you’d thankfully packed a scarf in preparation for the cold snap that was predicted to hit the state this week. Midway through unzipping your bag, though, your eyes landed on his dresser and the devil sitting on your shoulder, buzzing with a deadly combination of anger and arousal, whispered a terrible, reckless idea in your ear.

***

You practically skipped downstairs to rejoin the team, who appeared to be engaged in a lively debate about the contents of the envelope Morgan was holding. After gloving up, you reached out a hand towards him.

“Can I read it?”

He handed it over, distracted by another stream of consciousness from Reid. Hotch took note of your return and glanced in your direction before turning back to the conversation.

You pretended to read the note and waited for him to notice.

You waited all of three seconds.

He whipped his head back so comically fast you struggled to suppress a snort, and you knew exactly what he was looking at. A midnight blue cashmere scarf, nicked from his dresser and wrapped artfully around your neck to cover the bruises, just like he’d asked. The first compliment you’d ever paid him was in regards to this scarf; tentatively whispered when he’d worn it to a chilly 2 am crime scene. He’d accepted the compliment passively, but the optimistic part of you had noted that he seemed to wear it much more frequently after that.

You weren’t entirely sure what statement you were intending to make by wearing it, but his reaction told you you’d certainly succeeded at provoking something.

Morgan reached back out for the note you were still pretending to read and dropped it in an evidence bag. If he noticed Hotch steaming from the ears next to you, he didn’t say so.

“They’re ready to pack everything up and head back to the lab. Let’s meet ‘em there?”

Everyone nodded in the affirmative and headed back to the SUVs.

“You riding with me?” Morgan asked, nudging your ribs with an elbow.

“No,” Hotch answered for you, an unseen hand suddenly gripping the back of your neck. “She’s not.”

Taglist (message me to be added!): @klinenovakwinchester @stop-drop-and-drumroll @cevanswhre @addie5264 @honeyshores @violentvulgarvolatile @masumiyetimziyanoldu @violetclifford @pipersaccomplice @itsmytimetoodream @groovygoob @captainhyenafan @thebadassbitchqueen @softboystyles @witchcraftandwit @call-me-mrsreid @ssahoodrathotchner @fanficscuziranout @rintheemolion @scrumptiousroadponymoney @iconicc @thelux47 @bellaswanismysoulmate @possum-pancakes @sweatydiplomatshepherdzine @spencers-hoodrat @totalmess191 @sunshine-and-riverwater @sunflowersandotherthings @chelseyjoyce @helloladyvanilla @mac99martin

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bansheeoftheforest · 3 years ago

Note

Ramble about angst from amnesia ghost au?

Oh boi here i go

ALSO DO NOT HOLD ME RESPONSIBLE IF I REPEAT STUFF. My brain is teeny tiny pea sized smooth like fucker and I do not remember what we have talked about before and I physically cannot come up with angst by myself <3

Ok ahaha I am not sure! If I came up with new ideas! Or if i accidentally mixed shit!! But !!! My brain physically cannot come up with angst and I TRIED to keep this angsty but... heh <3

At first, of course, Henry doesn’t even realise that he is dead. He wakes up somewhere-- he can see the stars, it’s night, yet the sky is illuminatingly polluted by the warm lights from apartment windows that all seem so far away. His body feels numb, and it’s so silent. He tries to sit up, he feels... Light.

He feels his chest rising and falling, yet he does not feel himself taking in any air. He is hidden somewhere, he is sitting behind a few dumpsters and rubble, he doesn’t know where he is. He tries to look at his hands, they are see-through. He looks at his legs-- his legs aren’t see-through. It’s not his legs.

He turns, and on the ground where he is sitting, he sees the wrangled corpse of a man-- pale skin and blue lips, hair dirtied with coagulated blood, joints and bones and limbs bent in ways that shouldn’t be possible, clothes torn. The man had just died. He doesn’t recognise the man, but he doesn’t need to. It takes a few moments of staring into those wide-open, empty eyes and then looking back at his transparent body to know that it’s his corpse. But... Why can’t he remember anything?

His head is empty, and not only because he has no physical body. He sees how his tongue has rolled out of his limp mouth of his corpse, he sees the fractures in his skull, he can see the flesh. He has no physical body, but he can still feel it.

He stands up-- or whatever the ghost equivalent to standing up is. He watches his body, he looks down on himself. He is a mirror image of his physical form. He reaches up to his own head, and he can feel the crack in his skull. He reaches to his chest, and he can feel the broken bones poking out through his clothes.

The body... It’s indifferent to him. At the same time, he gets overwhelmed by such an urge of protectiveness. He doesn’t understand it, not until he hears the footsteps of someone coming closer and closer.

He sees a shadow by the opening of the alleyway. He blacks out. He doesn’t know what he did until he hears an ear piercing scream and sees the body of a woman getting thrown against a wall. He doesn’t know what happened but he knows he did that. He doesn’t feel remorse, no, yet he has no chance of finishing the job before she has already fled screaming from the scene.

Henry is not done just yet.

Henry does not let anyone go anywhere near the alleyway for a week straight. Anyone who dares come close will feel themselves getting tossed and thrown around like a chewtoy, thrown against walls or other people. It’s not until an unfortunate victim ends up with cracked bones and a hairline fracture in their skull that the police has had enough, they are going to get to the bottom of this. They question victims and witnesses, and in the end, they decide to call in the local ghost expert.

Maijabi arrives at the scene quite quickly, the police part to let him through. Surprisingly, Maijabi actually manages to enter the alleyway with no problem, yet his ghost detection device is beeping in warning. He turns a corner, and that’s when he finds it-- or him. On the floor, bloodied and rotten, lays the corpse of Dr. Henry Jekyll, unrecognisable from the consequences of his gory demise and his many days used as a feast by the rats and stray dogs roaming the neighbourhood. His eyes are gone, his skin has sunken in, patches of flesh has been ripped from his body. Maijabi drops his device. It takes five seconds before the Scotland Yard calls his name and tries to enter the alleyway in fear of the ghost haven taken him as a victim, too. They find Maijabi staring at the corpse, it does not take long for the police to gasp in a mix of fear, disgust, and horror.

They try to get to the body, they try to move it, but as they feared, the ghost as not calmed down. They hear screeches mere moments before they get thrown against a wall, making Maijabi snap out of it.

Ahah wowo i just realized I spent quite a long time with this alone but anyways so I dont repeat that one post; Maijabi manages to trap Henry, his haunting screams of agony only worsens the trauma and horror that has already infected those around him. He screams, he begs, he pleads, but no one can understand what he is saying. It’s not until the cops move his corpse and his wallet falls out that he calms down so slightly, suddenly fixated on nothing but the wallet. Maijabi picks it up and opens it, the first thing he sees is a group picture of all the Lodgers. He places it in Henry’s trap to calm him, and then he takes him back to the Society.

(Well, this is specifically for the vengeful branch of this au branch but ye <3)

Can you imagine the absolute horror and sorrow Maijabi would be going through in such a short time? After all, it was never unusual for Henry to be away for... Well, what’s it been, a week? Now Maijabi is left with Henry who doesn’t know who he is and who wants nothing but to hurt anyone in his path, now he is responsible for telling the other Lodgers.

When Henry isn’t destroying lab equipment or possessing Lodgers, regardless of if he is free to roam or trapped, he will weep and cry but he never knows why. He just feels terrible and lost, sometimes he gets struck by such an overwhelming sense of sorrow and anguish he can do nothing but to... Well, weep. No matter how scared or mad the Lodgers are, they all feel so terrible when the weeping echos throughout the Society.

Henry has the ghost equivalent of PTSD after his death. He gets flashbacks and panic attacks when he suddenly remembers his death or other trauma he suffered throughout his life or death, even if he can’t remember his life. Regardless of if he is generally violent or not, Maijabi always does his best to calm and help him.

Jasper volunteers to let Henry possess him and (I’m going to switch over to when he ISN’T violent for these ones) spends time with him. Henry doesn’t know who Jasper is but he feels a little less lonely and slightly better when he has someone who cares for him and spends time with him. In the beginning, they could only have Henry possessing Jasper for short moments because the poor boy kept getting overwhelmed with Henry’s emotions, and Maijabi and the other Lodgers worried that the amnesiac affect would bleed onto Jasper. It didn’t, though, so while they work on trying to regain Henry’s memories, Henry clings to him. It goes a bit overboard once Henry starts developing separation anxiety, and he constantly worries that something will happen to Jasper.

Jasper keeps having flashes of Henry’s life and how he died. He wakes up crying most of the time, and since Henry is the first person he sees when he wakes up, he gets panic attacks, yet he refuses to let Henry down and make things even worse for him, yet it makes Henry feel worse knowing he is torturing poor Jasper.

If it isn’t the vengeful branch of this au, Henry would be found by Maijabi curled up against the wall where his body was. Maijabi, at that point, would already have known that it’s Henry’s body has the ghost wasn’t violent and the cops could take the corpse no problem. He finds Henry weeping, but he gets overjoyed when he realises that Maijabi can see and hear him. Maijabi leads him back to the Society but Henry never stops crying. Maijabi is not sure if his shirt is wet with blood or his own tears.

Weeping. So much weeping. Exploring the Society while weeping. Dancing in empty ballrooms while weeping. Spying on the Lodgers while trying to stop his weeping. Henry weeps constantly and he can’t stop it.

The weeping and Henry’s sorrow only got worse when Helsby snapped and told him to shut up. The Lodgers immediately began to yell at Helsby while Henry locked himself into an empty room and cried harder. He doesn’t know what he did wrong or why people don’t like him, he just wants to be liked.

#ask #ghost au #banshees au #anon percy #Im just. GOing to hope that this is alright bc i physicall cannot write more on this <3

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patchwork-panda · 4 years ago

Text

“I won’t tell a soul” (BSD Nakahara Chuuya x Reader #3. Complete!)

“Title: “I won’t tell anybody”/“誰にも言わない” Genre: Romance Rating: PG-13 for alcohol usage and mild violence/language and a kiss scene. /////>w<;; Reader-insert is written as femme and 20+ Plot: You meet Chuuya at a wine bar and over time, you become close. Your regular meetings become something you both enjoy so when Chuuya stops visiting for several weeks, you begin to worry... When you meet again, you learn the truth... But do you care? Mini Fic is written in 2nd person. title is reference to new Utada Hikaru single

CW: street harassment, physical violence

AKA Chuuya saves reader and you get a kiss/get together :3

AO3 link for full fic: HERE

Part 1 Here Part 2 Here

It’s well past last call when you leave.

You ended up staying until past closing and, perhaps out of a feeling of guilt, the mustachioed bartender decided not to kick you out.

Because his “feeling” had been wrong.

Chuuya hadn’t come.

The bartender had offered to call you a cab but you adamantly refused. You wanted a nice long walk in the cool night air, which would hopefully clear your senses a little. You don’t want to go to bed tonight thinking about Chuuya or you might just wake up crying.

Because this was the last night.

No more.

You needed to move on.

As you leave the bar, you see a group of men, a bunch of hoodlums by the look of it, gathered near the alleyway to your far right. One or two of them give you an appraising look (you wish your skirt were longer but you make no move to tug it down) and to your disgust, another whispers something into the ear of yet another of their companions, who suddenly leers at you.

Ugh.

You keep your eyes trained on the road ahead of you as you walk past them, hoping to get away with nothing more than a wolf whistle but alas, it is not to be. One of them, a man with a scar over his eye, calls out to you.

“Hey, hey you! Lady!”

You roll your eyes and ignore him. You hated running into creeps like this in the daytime as it was. Nighttime is so much worse.

Not to be deterred, he runs after you and stops and slows once he’s caught up.

“Haven’t we seen you before?” he asks, looking you up and down. You suddenly regret wearing heels. You don’t answer but he acts as if you have.

“Yeah, I remember you. You’re here at that bar every Friday, aren’t you? Always sitting there at the counter with that short fellow, the one with the fancy hat and the jacket draped over his shoulders. Chuuya-san, you called him, right?”

You keep walking and scowl when Chuuya’s name crosses his lips. Scum like this shouldn’t have the right to talk about Chuuya like that, much less exist in the same world as him. And how dare this man call Chuuya short when he wasn’t more than a few centimeters taller than either of you.

“Hey, Missy.”

He grabs your shoulder. His tone is suddenly menacing.

“I’m talking to you here.”

“Let go of me!” you snap, tearing your shoulder away.

You turn to walk in the opposite direction but his companions are blocking the way back. In fact, they’re blocking every possible escape route you have. You spin around in a circle, only to come face to face with the man who insists on speaking with you. He smiles and you curse.

“Shit...”

He raises his scarred eyebrow. He looks amused.

“There’s no need for language like that, Missy,” he says, his tone every bit as patronizing as it is threatening. “We just want to talk to you. You see, we’re looking for ‘Chuuya-san.’ Been looking for him, in fact, for a long, long time now and we’re hoping that you can maybe help us find him. You see, we owe him a favor...”

“Well, you’re talking to the wrong person,” you spit acidly, “I haven’t seen him for several months now and even if I wanted to help you find him--which I don’t--”

You voice cracks and you swallow heavily. You hate that you’ve become so upset but that’s what the mere mention of Chuuya’s name did to you tonight. You were really hoping the bartender was right and you were absolutely crushed when he wasn’t.

“I don’t even have his phone number.”

You throw your hands up into the air, as if to indicate that you’d given up.

“So why don’t you just let me go home and we’ll forget that this whole conversation ever happened?”

The man looks at you. Stunned. Then he starts laughing.

As one, his crew starts laughing at you as well and you feel your cheeks flush in sudden rage and embarrassment.

“Look at that, she just ordered me around, didn’t she?” the man chortles, turning to his companions as if he’d just told a very funny joke. “A real spitfire, aren’t you? And a looker to boot! No wonder he spends so much time with you.”

He snaps his fingers and at once, two of his men come forward and seize you by the arms. You try to fight them off but their arms are twice as thick as yours and you’re still a little tipsy from the wine.

“Why don’t you come with us, little Missy? We’d like to have a chat with you.”

“Hey!” you snap, “Get your hands off me!”

“See, your friend, Chuuya-san,” the man says, a note of humor sneaking into his voice as he copies the way you say Chuuya’s name. “He and that pesky Port Mafia he works for... have been making things difficult for us smaller gangs in Yokohama.”

His eyes narrow.

“Unnecessarily so.”

They start dragging you away. Your efforts to fight back seem meaningless. Panic rises in your throat. You should’ve taken the bartender’s offer of hailing a cab.

“Hey! Hey!!”

You struggle and fight harder but it’s no use.

“And our boss gets the feeling they’re going to be a lot more willing to negotiate with us,” the man continues, following you as you’re pulled backwards by the arms. “If we have a proper bargaining chip.”

His lip curls into that disgusting leer.

“Especially that midget. Can’t wait to see his face after he sees you missing a few fingers.”

You stiffen. Your eyes narrow.

“You asshole...” you growl.

You shoot him a piercing glare.

How dare he talk about Chuuya--your Chuuya--like that.

“Keep Chuuya’s name out of your fucking mouth,” you spit, “you piece of shit--”

He silences you with a slap across the face and you stumble. The men behind you keep holding you up. Your cheek stings.

“Stupid bitch.”

He laughs and the men laugh with him.

“We’ll see how brave you are after we cut you up.”

As you continue to struggle, they drag you into the alley.

Tears of helpless rage fill your eyes. This was stupid. You were stupid. You should’ve just stayed away like your coworker said.

Now these assholes were going to take you away, do who-knew-what to you, and because of your own foolishness, you would never get to see Chuuya again.

You bite your lip.

Chuuya...

You’re trying not to cry.

Help me...

Just then, a harsh voice cuts through the night. It’s quiet but it rings with authority.

And barely suppressed rage.

“Let go of her.”

You stop struggling immediately. You’d know that voice anywhere.

As one, you and the men gripping you by the arms turn to look down the alleyway, where you see a lone figure standing there at the very end of the street. He is a black shape outlined against the backdrop of the downtown streets, his dark clothes bathed in the harsh blue and red glow of signs made of neon lights. His face is in shadow, but...

The lone figure wears a fancy black hat and a jacket draped over both shoulders.

Chuuya.

“Chuuya-san...!”

Your breath hitches in your throat.

You want to say more. You want to call out to him, loud enough for him to actually hear but for some reason you cannot. Something’s wrong with him tonight. His very presence is unnerving and without knowing why, you begin to tremble.

“Well, look who’s here,” the man with the scar crows.

He takes a knife out of his pocket.

“Nakahara Chuuya. We’ve been looking for you. Come with us. Our boss needs to have a little talk with you. And if you don’t...”

He holds the knife at your throat. You hold your breath as it presses against your flesh.

“The Missy here gets it.”

Chuuya steps forward and out of the shadows and at once, you know why you’re suddenly afraid. You feel the men holding your arms falter.

There’s an odd red glow around Chuuya, around his entire outline. As he steps forward, his long black jacket begins to lift off his shoulders in an unseen wind, billowing around him like a cape. You think you hear something like a dull roar echoing throughout the alleyway and when Chuuya looks up, his gaze is fierce. His eyes burn like twin blue flames in the night.

This isn’t the same Chuuya who’d flirted with you at the bar.

This man is something else.

He continues towards you.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Chuuya snarls, his teeth bared.

When his foot hits the pavement, it cracks underfoot. Rubble rises into the air all around him, glowing red like the aura around Chuuya’s body.

“Get.”

Another step forward. The pavement breaks yet again. It’s as if Chuuya’s weight has increased threefold when he took that second step towards you.

“Your.”

The roaring sound grows louder. More rubble rises into the air.

“Filthy.”

Chuuya’s footsteps grow heavier. He’s now leaving craters in his wake. You don’t understand how it’s happening but the rubble is now orbiting around his body like the rings of a planet.

“Hands.”

The men loosen their hold on you but they haven’t let go. Chuuya sees this and his eyes seem to glow more fiercely in the dark. He looks utterly terrifying.

“Off.”

Chuuya grabs a handful of the rubble around him and draws his hand back. He steps into a pool of dim red light and his body looks like it’s bathed in blood.

“My woman.”

He takes out a stone, flips it into the air like a coin and flicks it with his thumb.

You don’t even see it move.

There’s just a brief whistling sound and a crack.

The arm of the scarred man--the arm holding a knife to your throat--explodes in a shower of blood. Some of it splatters the front of your dress. You’re so shocked, you don’t even scream.

The man next to you, however, does.

He lets out a howl of pain, clutching his ruined arm and dropping to the his knees, his knife clattering uselessly to the ground in front of you. He’s crying and screaming about his arm, blood gushing from the stump of his elbow and into the street. The puddle inches towards your shoes.

The men holding you drop your arms and tear off into the night--the entire crew goes running back towards the street, leaving you in the middle of the alleyway between them and Chuuya.

Chuuya’s bright blue eyes narrow and he repeats his earlier movement, flicking several more stones towards the men in the alleyway with deadly precision. One by one, the men drop to the ground, their screams cut short. The last one is quicker on his feet than his companions and is just about to round the corner when Chuuya crouches down and leaps into the air.

You watch in awe, turning to follow his movements as he soars over you, gracefully arcing through the sky, his body suddenly as light as a feather. The stones follow him, continuing to orbit around him in a ring like a miniature belt of asteroids. With one flick of his wrist, several rocket towards the man who’s almost made it into the street. You turn your face away as you hear the dull, wet squelching of the stones tearing through his body, splattering his organs on the nearby buildings and sidewalk.

The man next to you is still crying and clutching his arm. He rushes past you, desperate to escape.

You can’t see Chuuya, but you know where he is.

You start towards his location but within moments, he’s in the sky again. You whirl around to see him several paces behind you, standing before the man whose arm he destroyed.

He grabs the man by the throat and slams him against the wall. Cracks appear in the drywall behind his body. Miraculously, he doesn’t pass out.

“You tell your boss,” Chuuya hisses, his tone low and menacing, “that if you try this shit again, I’ll send what’s left of his cronies back to him in a fucking bento box.”

He slams the man against the wall again.

“If you’ve got business with me or with the Port Mafia, then it stays with us. You got that?”

The man nods, tears streaming down his face.

Chuuya lets go of him at last and he crumples to the ground in a heap.

Scowling, Chuuya turns to you at last, the glow in his blue eyes suddenly fading as the red-tinted aura around him dissipates. Behind him, the scarred man scrambles to his feet and scampers off into the night.

“Chuuya--” you start but he is in no mood to let you finish.

“You,” Chuuya growls, stalking forward. “What were you doing out here so late at night? Are you an idiot? Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

You’re stunned. After all this time, he’s angry?

“I came looking for you,” you protest, equally bewildered and hurt by the sheer anger in his voice. “I haven’t seen you in so long and--and you never gave me a single way to find you--Chuuya, I--”

“Why would you do that?!” he roars, slamming his fist against the wall.

No crater appears, but the drywall cracks.

Chuuya grits his teeth. He seems to have difficulty looking at you. He drops his gaze and the brim of his hat falls over his eyes, obscuring his face. Bits of drywall crumble down around his gloved hand. His fist is shaking.

“Why would you try to find me?” he asks, his voice hushed.

He’s asking you this? Why is he asking you this?

“Because...”

Your hands clench into fists when Chuuya does not not look up.

Fuck.

You bite your lip, hard, so that you don’t cry.

After all this time, he won’t even look at you? After everything you’ve been through? After all this??

“You really don’t get it?” you ask quietly, holding back those hot, bitter tears.

Chuuya doesn’t answer. Still doesn’t look up.

Why won’t he look at you?

It makes you angry. Angrier than you’ve been in years. You want to scream.

“You want to know why I came looking for you?” you ask bitterly.

Chuuya inclines his head slightly, which you take to be a nod. Pissed, you take a step towards him.

“It’s because I missed you, you fucking dumbass!”

Chuuya twitches violently.

He looks up, a mixture of shock and wonder clearly visible in the depths of his deep blue eyes. He looks mesmerized by you.

He’s not moving so you take another step towards him, suddenly feeling like you’re approaching a skittish alley cat. You hold out your hands when you speak.

“Don’t you understand, Chuuya-san? I wanted to see you. I wanted to see you so bad.”

You don’t care that he just maimed or even killed several people in front of you, that he has power beyond imagining and could turn his Gift on you if he so wished. He killed those men to save you.

To you, he was still Chuuya-san.

He was your Chuuya.

“I came looking for you... because you never even said goodbye. I didn’t have your phone number, or address. I don’t even know where you work or what your last name is. Chuuya, I had no way of contacting you.”

“That was the whole point,” Chuuya interrupts but you talk over him.

“So when I heard you might be here tonight,” you say, loud enough that he has to stop talking. “I had to come. I had to, you understand?”

Chuuya falls silent. His expression is contemplative, with an undercurrent of pain. His deep blue eyes are fully focused on you.

It was the same face he made the night he left the bar all those months ago.

“Chuuya-san...”

You swallow, ready to ask the question you’re afraid to hear the answer to.

“Didn’t you want to see me, too?”

But Chuuya doesn’t answer. Hot pinpricks sting your eyes. Shit. You’re going to cry.

“I see,” you say stiffly.

You gather your jacket more tightly about your body, preparing to leave.

“Sorry to have bothered you.”

You’re about to turn around and go when you see Chuuya’s fist tightening. With a start, you see his jaw tensing up. He’s gritting his teeth too. But he still doesn’t speak. You sigh.

“Goodbye,” you whisper. “Chuuya--”

“Wait.”

Chuuya rushes forward and before you can finish speaking, he’s gathered you in his arms in a fierce hug. His grip on you is so tight that you can hardly breathe.

“I did,” he whispers.

His voice is so small you can barely hear it.

“I wanted to see you too.”

“Chuuya-san...”

“The barkeep told me everything,” he growls. “He told me that you’ve been coming here almost every Friday night at our usual time. That you’ve been looking for me.”

He rests his chin on your shoulder and you reach up to comfort him. You gently pat his back.

“And waiting.”

“Chuuya-san.”

You swallow thickly.

“Tell me the truth. Why didn’t you want me looking for you? Are you...?”

You feel his arms around you tensing. He knows what you’re about to ask.

“Are you really with the Port Mafia?”

For a long, heavy moment, Chuuya doesn’t answer. But when he does, his voice sounds slightly hoarse.

“I am.”

As he speaks, you can feel his grip around you tightening, his arms wrapping more securely around your shoulders and waist, as if letting go of you would mean letting go of you for good.

“Chuuya-san...”

Your fingers slowly curl into fists against his chest and the expensive fabric of his jacket wrinkles beneath your touch.

“My full name is Nakahara Chuuya,” he whispers against your hair. “And I’m not just any member of the Port Mafia. I’m one of the executives.”

Involuntarily, you stiffen and the instant he feels your fingers twitch against his chest, Chuuya groans.

“I knew this would happen. I knew it would. Fuck.”

His arms loosen and unfold from around you. He’s pulling away.

But before he can, you reach out.

“Wait, Chuuya! Don’t go!”

You grab fistfuls of his jacket and pull on it to stop him from leaving. You bury your face in his shoulder and he stops short. You feel his sharp intake of breath.

“Please,” you whisper. “Don’t leave again.”

“H-hey...”

Chuuya’s voice is flustered and unsteady. But he doesn’t move away.

“I kept thinking about it, you know...” you mumble, closing your eyes as you feel Chuuya’s black-gloved hand smoothing down your hair.

“About the way you look when you’re sitting there at the bar with me. The way you laugh when we talk. The way you look at me when we’re together. You were wonderful. Chuuya-san... You’re not a bad person, I know you’re not.”

“But I’m not a good guy,” Chuuya insists.

He drops his hand. Now he’s just standing there as you continue to cling to him. You lift your head and look right into his eyes, which widen in sudden surprise.

“I don’t care whether Chuuya-san is a good guy or a bad guy!” you exclaim. “All I know is... I’ve never seen anything as beautiful as your smile.”

Chuuya stiffens. You can barely feel him breathing.

“You...” he starts, and the emotion in his voice is enough to bring tears to your eyes. “You really think that?”

You nod vigorously.

“Yes. Yes, I do. I think about you all the time... Chuuya.”

I care about you...

He wraps his arms around you and, wordlessly, you do the same. For a moment, you just stand there together, locked in a silent embrace in the middle of this dark, bloodstained alleyway. You nestle your face against the crook of his neck, breathing him in. He smells like the subtle musk and spice of an expensive cologne, like roses and gun smoke and something more, something uniquely Chuuya...

Finally he speaks.

“I can’t leave the Port Mafia, you know,” he says in an undertone, his fingers stroking through your hair.

“I know.”

In response, you hold him tighter. There’s a subtle wrenching in your gut, but you won’t let go.

“I’m not asking you to. It’s fine.”

“This isn’t going to be the last time this happens,” Chuuya protests, “You could get hurt.”

“I said it’s okay,” you insist. “Just...”

You swallow with some difficulty. You know what you’re asking and you know how selfish it is... but you can’t let go of him.

“Just let me stay by your side.”

You press yourself further into him. His body is warm, still humming with some kind of energy, but beneath that well-fitted vest, you can feel his heart beating against yours.

“Please.”

Time passes. You stay like this for what feels like hours but you aren’t willing to let go. Neither, it seems, is Chuuya. Finally, he sighs.

“I knew you were special from the moment I laid eyes on you,” he says, a hint of a chuckle in his voice. You can feel the low rumble of his silent laughter travel through his compact frame and despite your worry, you feel better.

“I just didn’t realize,” Chuuya murmurs, “that ‘special’ meant ‘crazy.’“

“If I’m crazy,” you laugh, “then it’s only because I’ve gone crazy for you.”

The words are out of your mouth before you even realize what you’ve said and upon hearing you, Chuuya lets out a bark of a laugh.

“You,” he cackles, “you really are something, you know that?”

His laughter fading, Chuuya loosens his hold on you. He lets you pull back just enough so that he can see your face but not enough that you can move out of his arms--not that you want to. Even in the dim lighting in this dingy alleyway, Chuuya looks so beautiful up close. His deep blue eyes gleam brightly as they stare into yours and without thinking about it, you lean in and press a quick kiss to his lips.

And then Chuuya smiles. Really smiles.

His grin is toothy and somewhat lopsided with obvious delight, and yet, his expression still doesn’t lose any of that cool, self-assured energy you’ve come to associate with Chuuya and only Chuuya.

You smile back. Your body grows warm.

Yes. This is the smile you wanted to see. The smile you’d missed so much for the last few months that it nearly killed you to think that you might not see it again. But right now, Chuuya’s smile is different. Good different.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen him looking quite so happy before.

“Chuuya...”

Wordlessly, you wrap your arms around his shoulders as one of his hands slides down to your waist. Chuuya places two black-gloved fingers beneath your chin and tilts your face towards his.

“Makes sense that you would be something special,” he whispers, his breath warm against your lips. “You are mine, after all.”

You close your eyes and the distance between you disappears. Chuuya’s lips are soft and sweet as they move against yours and you feel your breath hitch in your throat as his tongue ghosts over your upper lip. He feels so good and you cling to him as he deepens the kiss, pressing your body to his so tightly, you half wonder if you might be crushed by his strength.

But you like it.

You like the feel of his arms around your body, the way he grips you so tightly that his fingers dimple your flesh, the way he tastes--no wine could ever be as intoxicating as the man called Nakahara Chuuya...

When you come up for air at last, you’re both breathless.

”Wow,” Chuuya breathes, sounding just as dazed as you feel, “You’re... You’re a really good kisser...”

“So are you,” is all you manage to gasp before he dives back in for more.

As the moon rises high in the sky above you, you part at last, flushed and giddy and dizzy with joy. Chuuya takes your hand and leads you out of the alleyway, back to the bar you thought was closed.

He raps on the door with one black-gloved hand, the other tightly gripping yours, and turns back to shoot you that signature cocky grin when that same mustachioed bartender opens the door at last.

“I think it’s time we call you that cab,” Chuuya laughs as he pulls you inside the warmth of the empty room. “But I’ll meet you here again tomorrow, okay? Same time as usual.”

You nod. You’re smiling so hard it almost hurts but you’re just so happy...!

“It’s a date,” you say, to which Chuuya’s grin grows only wider. “So don’t go blowing me off this time.”

Laughing, he tugs you back towards him and presses another kiss to your lips, his grin returning as soon as he pulls away. His blue eyes shine like a bright, cloudless sky.

“Don’t worry,” he whispers, holding you close. “I’m not going anywhere.”

#chuuya x reader #chuuya x y/n #chuuya #bsd chuuya #bsd nakahara chuuya #nakahara chuuya x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou sd #nakahara chuuya #nakahara chuuya x y/n

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madsthewordclown · 4 years ago

Text

Fire Lily | Pt. 5

warnings: mentions of violence

summary: Y/N enjoys a day off in the city, but there’s always trouble in the night.

a/n: This chapter takes place during the Tales of Ba Sing Se, so you could call this “The Tale of Y/N.” At first I really struggled with this chapter, but it didn’t end up taking as long to write as I had anticipated. Hope you enjoy!

Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 | Pt. 3 | Pt. 4 | Pt. 5 | Pt. 6

“Y/N, sweetheart, I need you to calm down,” her father cooed. Her mother stood in the doorway, watching with a woeful look in her eye. “Take some deep breaths with me.”

After the signs of her bending first began to show, they became harder and harder to control. The pain was evident in her parents’ eyes, watching their child—still so small, not understanding the war raging on outside of their home—grapple with a power none of them could understand.

“Go away!” Y/N cried, fire shooting from her small hands. Tears were running down her face. There were scorch marks on the floor and the walls of her bedroom.

“Breath with me,” her father pleaded. Y/N met her father’s eye. “In, and out.”

It was Y/N’s first night off in weeks.

Pao was a kind man to work for, but he was also a firm believer in paying your own way. Y/N suspected that the asking price for the room he was lending her was a bit high, but she wasn’t one to complain.

Working at the tea shop could be therapeutic at times. She had gotten to spend more time with Lee, who seemed to be slowly opening up. He didn’t smile very often, but Y/N felt her heart flutter whenever he did. It felt like an accomplishment to make him smile, if only for a moment. And it felt so normal. She had a roof over her head, food in her belly, and, for the first time ever, friends.

Even with work and Lee as an effective distraction, Y/N couldn’t keep Jet out of her mind for long. The scene replayed in her head during nearly every spare moment. The hook swords dragging in the dirt. His dark eyes as those wagon doors swung shut. Y/N knew what Jet had done was wrong, that it was violent, and brash, but the Dai Li agents gave her a sour feeling, too.

Jet had been her first friend. He had been the one to offer her a meal on the ferry and put a knife in her hand and taught her how to defend herself, and now he was who knows where. She hadn’t seen him since the day he was arrested, and she hadn’t seen Longshot or Smellerby, either.

Y/N tried to avoid the subject at work, and it seemed that Lee did, too. They tended to ignore that corner of the shop where Jet had lurked before. That was, until the spot was taken up by another particular.

Lee had seemed paranoid about how frequently that girl visited the tea shop, and Y/N would have laughed if the situation didn’t make her heart drop. The Earth Kingdom girl was pretty, and definitely had an eye for Lee. The chances of Lee catching on to it were pretty low, Y/N knew, but the selfish part of her still hoped that he wouldn’t.

But it would be good to enjoy a day out in the city, Y/N told herself. She could try and get her mind off of Jet, Lee, and the family seal that was burning a hole in her mind. She had saved up enough money from work for a light shopping day, and the soles of her shoes were almost worn through.

“Have a wonderful day off, Y/N!” Mushi waved joyfully as Y/N walked through the teashop. Y/N noticed that Lee was busy serving the girl she kept seeing, but quickly turned her head away. He could see whoever she wanted to. Besides, she couldn’t afford to be with him like that. She had too much to hide.

“Thank you, Mushi,” Y/N smiled. “See you tomorrow!”

“Look for a Pai Sho board while you’re out!” Y/N heard Mushi call as she stepped out the door. “We need to play a game sometime!”

Y/N added it to her mental list. She missed the game; the last time she had played was with her father, and she tended to lose against him. He had been the one to teach her how to play, after all.

---

The streets of Ba Sing Se weren’t overly crowded, and it was a pleasant afternoon. The sunshine was warm on Y/N’s back as she walked. And the walking was made better by the feeling of a new pair of boots on her feet.

Y/N stopped for a moment on an old cobblestone bridge, taking a moment to look out on the water. She had traveled all the way to the upper rings, and it was astounding how different the city looked. There were no beggars on the road; no one wore dirty or torn clothes, and even her new boots were put to shame by the footwear of the other girls wandering the upper rings.

She had caught plenty of odd looks but tried to ignore them. She was here to see the city that she lived in. Why should they look at her any different?

Y/N heard voices approaching and saw three girls dressed to the nines. They were giggling about something, and Y/N got the feeling that it wasn’t something very kind. She didn’t want to give them the opportunity to say something about the tear in her shirt, or the fact that she was wearing trousers today instead of a dress.

As Y/N quickly walked away across the bridge, already mourning the view of the water, she thought she heard something about a salon. Why not? She thought, despite a voice telling her not to care. It would lessen the stares on her walk back home. And, she had plenty of time.

The women in the salon gave her weird looks, too. But they seemed to get their act together when Y/N could actually name a lot of their products and services. The whole experience reminded her of her mother. It was something they’d done together, when her father had to travel for meetings and her brother was away at school.

Her mother would mix up masks and scrubs in the kitchen. They’d sit around the house in thick, fluffy robes and Y/N would get to choose whatever color she wanted to paint her mother’s nails. At the end of the day, her mother would braid her hair, and Y/N would keep it as long as possible before eventually taking it out and admiring the waves it left in her hair.

It had cost an arm and a leg, but it was worth it to finally get the dirt out from under her fingernails. Her hair felt softer than it had since she left, and she couldn’t stop running her fingers through it.

“Such a pretty girl,” one of salon ladies, Wu, said. “Would you like me to braid it for you? Free of charge.”

“No, thank you,” Y/N answered kindly, already pulling her hair into a low knot herself. “Thank you so much.” As Y/N stepped back out onto the streets, the tear in her shirt seemed less important. She felt truly clean for the first time in a long time. She could sew the hole in the shirt sometime.

Y/N could see the sky beginning to darken, but the orange of the sunset was hidden by the surrounding buildings. Y/N sighed; it was probably time to be getting back to the tea shop.

As Y/N walked through the mostly dark streets, she was glad to have brought her new knife, now securely tucked into her waistband. She kept a hand on it as she walked, but felt more confident than before, thanks to her training.

Y/N caught a flash of movement in one of the many alleyways. Dark, shaggy hair…

“Jet?” It was a long shot, and she knew it. But a part of her hoped that she’d see him again. Would the Dai Li really keep him very long for what he had done?

Y/N continued moving but couldn’t shake an uneasy feeling that someone was following her. She heard footsteps… “Jet?” She tried again. Deep breaths. In and out.

Suddenly, a shadow jumped out from an alleyway. Y/N couldn’t tell who it was but drew her knife. She thought of the steps Jet had taught her; widen your stance, stay balanced, wait for your opportunity.

The figure charged, and just before it got close enough, Y/N swung her blade. She just barely managed to graze the figure’s arm. It jumped back for a moment, before approaching again. It was a man Y/N didn’t recognize. He seemed to be just another desperate refugee. But he wasn’t relenting.

The man had a knife of his own—Y/N caught a flash of it as the man brought up his arm. She ducked out of the way. Look for an opening. Y/N swung again, grazing the man’s abdomen as he recovered from his missed strike. She took another swing of her blade as the man stepped back but was careful. She didn’t want to hurt him. Violence wasn’t justice.

The man dropped his knife on the ground and raised his hands in the air, panting. Y/N held her knife out between them. “Leave.”

The man nodded slowly, some strings of hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, his eyes wide. He took another step back, and Y/N lowered her knife slightly.

Before she had time to react, the man leapt, knocking Y/N to the ground. She scrambled to keep her knife away from him, but he was prying it out of her hands. Y/N heard someone call her name, but they were too far away. Her knife flashed as it was pried out of her hands, the mugger’s weight holding her down.

You’ll have to defend yourself. Then everyone will know, Jet’s voice echoed in her ears. Someone called her name again, but she could tell they were still too far. Breath with me, her father had said. In and out.

“Good,” her father praised, placing a hand on her shoulder despite the obvious risk as the flames died away.

“Why am I like them?” Y/N collapsed into her father’s arms. “I’m a monster.”

“No,” her father reassured her. “You are my daughter.”

The man’s arm was raised above her, poised to strike. Breath with me.

Y/N ignited.

Fire burst from Y/N’s palms as the shoved the man off of her with a burst of strength. The fire was bright and alive in her hands. The man’s eyes widened with a fear Y/N knew could only be caused by the Fire Nation. By her. The mugger ran off into the night.

“Y/N?” The voice was close now, and she could recognize it anywhere. The light pouring from her hands illuminated the scarred face that was now staring at her in shock.

“Lee, I—”

Before she could say another word, a pair of stony hands clamped around her wrists, and her flames were extinguished. Three Dai Li agents came out of the shadows, clad in their dark green.

She couldn’t fight them, she knew. Two of the agents held on to her already bound arms. It was too dark to see Lee now, with the fire out, but she called to him anyway.

“Lee, I’m sorry!”

She was thrown into the back of a wagon before she heard a reply.

Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 | Pt. 3 | Pt. 4 | Pt. 5 | Pt. 6

Fire Lily Masterlist

taglist:

@kaylove12

#atla fanfic #eventual zuko x reader #lee from the tea shop #there is no war in ba sing se #jet atla #zuko x reader

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singeramg · 5 years ago

Text

Midnight: Chapter 21

Pairing: Clark Kent- Superman / Metahuman! Black!OFC

Universe: DCMCU

Rating: M

Warnings: Angst, Violence, Fluff

Summary: When Gia, a Metahuman by force, left Metropolis, she vowed to never come back because nothing was there for her anymore. Secret in tow, she’s stayed out of the way of anyone that could destroy the life she’s built for herself. What happens when the Justice League needs her help reviving the one man she vowed to never see in the flesh again?

A/n: Hey I just popped out of my academic hellhole to post a new chapter! Love you all Thank you for reading!

Catch up Here!

Midnight: Chapter 21

It was late as we headed to Freeland. Diana and Barry came along as planned, Diana flew the plane, would be keeping it running while Barry and I broke into the police station’s records department. We needed to find more information on this Alvin Pierce person and how it connected to me.

Clark and I spent the day spending time with Kalen and Tracy, we couldn’t go out anywhere but when you had a mansion like Bruce’s then you didn’t really need to go anywhere. Kalen was just excited to have both his parents around him at the same time. He wouldn’t rest until we read him a story, funny voices included, then forced us to stay in the bed on either side of him and only then did he fall asleep. I checked in on Tracy and told her Clark was nearby if she needed anything.

It seemed that he was the only one besides myself that she trusted. Which made sense because if you couldn't trust a man who flew you on his back, when you had super strength and had set him up to be killed just hours before, and he didn’t take the chance to drop you in the night sky where no one would find you, who could you trust?

Tracy recognized that and honestly if you wanted anyone on your side it was Superman and seeing as the plan didn’t call for Superman to be blasting through the walls so we both felt it would be more important for him to be here with Kalen, especially for such a short trip.

*Freeland, Georgia*

I wave my hand, my simple clothes changing into my Midnight suit. Diana and Barry had suited up before we even got on the plane and now that we were landing Barry was itching to run around. I toss an invisibility shield over myself and Barry, while Diana activates the cloaking technology for the jet. Barry and I jump down into the roof, and Diana heads to the outside of town where she can land in the Forest, but still close enough to get back to us. Meanwhile Victor and Bruce were watching over nearby cameras, internal cameras and Victor was using blueprints and GPS to guide us to where we needed to be inside of the building. Barry and I had dropped down from an outside vent into a supply closet. The precinct was basically empty other than the few night shift officers and a few petty criminals awaiting transport.

“Alright guys. The room isn’t far. Leave out the supply closet and then make a left, then on the next hallway make a right.”

I felt for energy in the hallway and once it was clear we walked out the room. The room itself was huge and we didn’t have a clue where to start, even if we could find anything on a case so long ago.

“So I walked around and from what I can tell these are more organized by the year than alphabetical. So if we know when Alvin Pierce died we can find it that way.”

“Hey Vic...”

“Already on it...here we go. Alvin Pierce died in 83.”

“Thanks. Alright Barry let’s see if we can find something...”

Barry goes and takes off down one of the aisles, and I follow him after. The row was divided into solved versus unsolved for that year.

“Solved or unsolved Victor?”

“Unsolved. And guys hurry up I think speedy tripped some sort of silent alarm. I know you are invisible but you guys start moving boxes and they are going to know it isn’t a faulty system like I’ve led them to believe. Right now you are on a feed loop. You’ve got a max of 15 minutes before that feed does it’s auto upload into the system and resets the cameras. Then maybe another 3 minutes before they realize something is wrong and one more before they get in the room. You're cloaked but that won’t stop them from blocking your way out. Get moving.”

“Yeah thanks. Diana, are you still okay out there?”

“Yes, just do what you have to do.”

Barry and I begin searching the aisles and due to the sheer number and age it takes ten minutes. I use my energy to encapsulate the box and bring it down. We are just opening it when the door flies open and a blast of energy hits me dead in the stomach, tossing me all the way down the aisle and through the brick wall into the alleyway I tossed a shield to stop damage from the brick wall. Barry is by my side in a second and I toss a stronger shield up a tall black man in what seems to be an electrical suit tosses another bolt at us. From my blast I know my com isn’t active anymore. Whoever this was was sticking to a no kill policy. It didn’t mean he didn’t want to harm us. I toss my own energy at him with a free hand and this guy tosses his own shield up.

“Flash, tell Cy and Wonder to hold. I don’t want to add to a bad scene and we still have civilians. Let us handle it for now. Go get the box!”

Meanwhile this masked adversary leans down to our box, and it seems once he looks at the contents his eyes flash and he shoots an even more powerful blast at me, but because I was prepared for it, I could absorb it. His energy was electric and only served to power me further. I can feel his frustration and he decides to charge at me. This begins a hand to hand combat, I get a read on his emotions but his mind is blocked which no matter how new the power was, it was frustrating for it to not be working properly.

“Who are you and what are you doing in my city?”

His is distorted and odd, clearly meant to hide his true identity.

“Your city? Last time I checked, no city has an owner. Why don’t you tell me who the fuck you are first. Because right now all you look like is an obstacle that needs to be removed.”

“And you two look like bugs that need to be squashed.”

A female voice appears from almost nowhere and she breathes before stomping on the ground with enough force to tremble the ground and crack the concrete under her feet. Because it throws me off balance I hit the ground hard enough that I miss Barry trying to get to me and being hit by a blast. He hit the ground hard and unmoving.

“Flash?!”

He doesn’t respond, in my fear and anger I toss a shield over him to protect him from what I am about to do.

I charge forward at them, opposite of what Clark had taught me to do, but in my case it worked to my advantage because once this tall dude let off another bolt he hands were occupied and I flipped behind him kicking him in the back on his face and this chick in the matching suit tries to call on her breath again but I’m faster as I grab her by the throat and toss her into a wall. The man's emotions spike from fear to anger.

“Oh now you done pissed me off.”

He shoots another powerful bolt at me, using a lot of his strength, but it’s odd because he can pull the electrical energy from everywhere because the block goes dark, and the only thing lit up is the lasso of energy he has wrapped around me. Now I could have absorbed it, but instead I let him lift me higher, pretending to struggle, just as I am about to kick him and then launch myself into him like a little monkey he says

“What in the hell do you want with Alvin Pierce? Did Wells send you?”

“No! Who in the fuck is Wells and why should I tell you?! You are probably one of the bastards trying to kidnap me.”

I kick off his face just as Diana drops down from seemingly the sky but I know it’s the plane still under stealth mode.

“Let her go!”

Diana flies over and punches him away and we both hear a gasping of air and turn just as his sidekick hits the ground as hard as she can opening a sinkhole. In a previously unprecedented move I surround us in a shield but the shield is floating. The man at this moment feels nothing but dread and honest to god fear. It throws me off because the fear is not for himself, it’s for his sidekick. He tosses another bolt but this time it’s not at us it’s at the plane, and as it is destroyed I strengthened the shield over all of us ten fold and he runs at his sidekick tossing the shield of his own up to protect her from the blast. Two things happen for me at once. First I realize his shield is not strong enough to withstand the blast debris being this close and the overwhelming love he felt for whoever was in that other suit outweighed anything else. He was literally willing to die for her to live and I connected the dots that the emotions I had been feeling from him all circled to what I would do for Kalen.

He had to be her father or at least family. No true villain of some toady would have done that for his partner.

I toss my own shield up at the pair and brace my shields against it, having to use my hands to force back the blast into the night sky all by

The feedback from the blast had knocked her out cold and Barry was still out. I drop to my knees, breathing heavy as the energy hurts absorbing into my body.

The smoke in the air was thick and Diana tried to pick me up but she couldn't. It’s almost like white noise rings in my ears and my head rings.

“Midnight! Can you hear me?”

I nod and hoist myself back up resting my elbows on my knees for a few seconds and then back up to full standing. I look around at the damage, Barry is still out cold and I look to the pair and so is the sidekick chick.

“Hey you check on Flash, I’m going to talk to them.”

I let the shield down and the man steps in front of her body, which both are giving off extreme energy which tells me she is alive. He holds his hands up.

“Look dude, I am not trying to hurt either of you. I just came for a little information. Not to hurt anyone or trash the city. I am Midnight.”

I hold out my hand for him to shake. Chin high, he takes it, and I laugh as he zapped me. Clearly trying to take me down.

“Is you finished or is you done? Look Mr. Bolts...”

“It’s....Black Lighting.”

“Fine. Mr. Black Lighting. I came for answers and I am not leaving until I get them. I’ll let you in on a little secret. One of my powers is that I can pick up emotions. Your emotions tell me you are not a bad guy. In fact, they tell me a lot about you. The most important thing about this power is it tells me that you love whoever is unconscious right now. That love is parental...”

His eyes flashed, the lighting taking over his irises.

“Would you calm down?! I already told you we never came to hurt anyone. Better yet we have already saved the world once as a collective...anyway. I came for that box inside, it’s the only lead I have into figuring out who Alvin Pierce was and how he relates to me.”

“Why do you think he would have anything to do with you?”

“I just need to know about an article he wrote that was never published. I need to know what he wrote about because it has something about why people are after me.”

“People are after you?”

He seems concerned for me which surprises me.

“Yes. My team has only been able to get a little info about whoever this is, but in our digging we saw some info that says they were connected to Alvin Pierce.”

“That could be a dead end.”

“That’s my decision to make. I can’t run the risk of them coming after me again. I have to be prepared for whoever is coming because I have too much to lose if they get a hold of me again. So I’ll take my chances with finding the work of Alvin Pierce. I can distract the people while you two get away.”

“Fine, but I’m telling you this will be a dead end for you.”

He scoops up his daughter and disappears into the night, meanwhile I go back inside, grabbing a folder from his box and l left, helping Diana lift Berry around the corner to safety as emergency vehicles and police come swarming the area...

*Later*

Diana, Barry and I didn’t have to call Bruce because Superman landed in front of us with relief on his face.

“I swear you like giving me a heart attack.”

I roll my eyes as he takes Barry from us, slinging him over his shoulder and pulling a card and ID from somewhere on his suit and handing them to Diana.

“Bruce sends his regards. He has a suite booked in the next town over. Also Victor may or may not have borrowed a car to get you there and it should be here...now.”

A SUV pulls up without a driver and the doors unlock. I wave my hand and the door opens, Clark puts Barry in a seat and Diana climbs in on the other side. Clark gets in the driver's seat and I get in the passenger.

*Hotel Roof*

“Of course my girl finds a fight not even 20 minutes on the ground.”

Clark and I are on the roof of the hotel, while Barry and Diana are downstairs in the suite. Victor had the car navigate us to the back, I changed Diana’s clothes so she could go get the keys to the room. She opened the balcony and let’s Clark in with Barry who came about five minutes into being on the plush couch. Now he was inhaling room service pasta with an ice pack while Diana took a shower. Clark and I sneak to the roof. Currently Clark had stepped up to me, his arms wrapped around my waist, as I looked up at him, he looked at me with a smirk right back.

“Hey, well it’s not like I planned on it. This was supposed to be in and out, nothing messy like that.”

“I wanted to fly as soon as that lighting character tossed you through the wall. Bruce told me to trust you.”

“Glad he did. The last thing we needed was Superman coming to drag dude and dudette across the pavement.”

“For you, of course I’m gonna fight for you. I told you before you left I wasn’t letting you go without a fight. Not this time.”

I let my arms go around his neck.

“ Yes, but fighting my battles is a surefire way to ensure you don’t get any.”

I say with a lilt in my voice and then tilting my head back in laughter. He laughs and he picks me up effortlessly, our faces close.

“Oh really? You think I can just let you go again? Gia do you know how long I’ve been waiting to hold you in my arms like this?”

I shake my head ‘no’

“You are the woman I’ve been waiting for my entire life. So yes I’m going to show up and fight your battles every time if that means I keep you here with me and my son.”

Somehow Clark always knows exactly what to say to me and it takes my breath away. It made me feel like I was nothing more than air. It had only been a few hours of everything being in the open but we clicked together like it had been a lifetime.

“Alright...alright. I’ll let you step in SOMETIMES but this does not give you full carte Blanche to step into all my battles.”

“I know. I prefer you not rip me a new one.”

With that we kiss again and he sits me back down on my feet.

“Come on Superman. We’ve got a folder to go over before we leave Freeland.”

“I need to know more about this Alvin Pierce...”

A/n: So how many of you pegged Freeland, Georgia from my last chapter as the home of Black Lighting? If you did good job! To all my readers you are all amazing and supportive and you rock. Thank you bunches and next chapter is in the works as soon!

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eeveevie · 5 years ago

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Salvation is a Last Minute Business (3/18)

Chapter 3: People Who Do Things

The Valentine Agency duo visit the Memory Den where Madelyn engages with a mysterious stranger in exchange for information about the Railroad. An old friend helps Nick discover alarming evidence that could crack the case against Eddie Winter wide open. Later, Madelyn returns to Boston Common to ‘follow the Freedom Trail’ and bumps into a familiar face.

“I admire people who do things.” - Bruno Anthony as played by Robert Walker (Strangers on a Train, 1951)

x - x

Art for this chapter by @its-sixxers :D

[read on Ao3] ~ [chapter masterpost]

January 15th, 1958

“You can’t trust everyone.”

Madelyn spoke the words aloud, gauging Nick’s response. They were on their way uptown, trying to drudge up any leads they could on Montrano’s assassination. The last few days hadn’t managed to secure any valuable information, even from their most trusted of sources. Even their newest recruit, MacCready, had nothing to offer. The streets were quiet—gripped by fear—just the way Eddie Winter wanted it. Now they were switching tactics and stepping directly into enemy territory by visiting the very institutions run by the Winter crime family. It was a dangerous game, but somebody had to play it.

“Is that what that note says?” Nick asked in response, flicking his gaze to her as he drove. Madelyn was alarmed for all of a few moments—he was a detective, after all—it was his job to figure things out. “You’ve been worrying over that piece of paper for weeks now.”

She looked over the words and the well-worn creases where she had folded and unfolded it, even though the words had been seared into her mind the first time she read them. “I received it on New Year’s Eve, at Faneuil Hall. I don’t know who it’s from. I—I meant to tell you about it.”

He looked amused, which she took as a good sign. “No skin off my nose. Looks like you were following its advice,” he teased. “Pretty enigmatic, if you ask me.”

Madelyn was in full agreement. “Do you ever get the feeling that you’re being followed?”

“Comes with the territory,” he replied before realizing her genuine unease. “Hey doll, if you’re really that concerned, we can—”

“No, no,” she shook her head, snapping herself away from the lingering fear. “I’m sure I’m overreacting. We’ve had some run-ins lately that have me spooked, is all.” She tried to lighten the mood. “You never take me anywhere nice.”

Nick’s brows stayed furrowed, hands gripped tightly around the steering wheel, her joke soaring right over his battered fedora. “Don’t remind me. Jenny is still cross that I took you to a crime scene.”

Despite the tension, or maybe because of it, Madelyn laughed. “Well, we didn’t know it was one before we got there. She should be more upset about the blood on your socks.”

“I didn’t say she wasn’t.”

At first, when they reached their destination, Madelyn wondered what they were doing at the Olympia Theatre. As far as she knew, it was a reputable establishment, with no known ties to the mobster families in Boston. She stared up at the marquee through the window as Nick rounded the car to her side, opening the door and offering his arm. She took it graciously, still fixated on the theatre signs until he nodded towards a side street with a single, burning red bulb as a guiding light. Luckily, he was just about the only man she trusted to lead her down a darkened alleyway, daring to laugh at the absurdity of it all. At the end of the cobblestone path there was a red painted door with a golden placard that read—The Memory Den.

“You’ve been here before?” she assumed in a playful tone.

Nick looked noticeably uncomfortable, reaching up with his free hand to adjust his tie. “Uh, Jenny brought me here once. We were younger, and Winter didn’t own the joint. It’s not your typical dance hall.”

Madelyn didn’t know what to expect, but when they finally entered she was overwhelmed, all her senses overloaded at once. The music was loud and infectious, crowds of couples dancing close—very close—to the up tempo sounds of the live band. There were sparkling, strung up lights that dangled from the ceiling making her feel like she had stars in her eyes—and what was that glorious smell?

“Blueberry pie,” Nick commented, reading her mind as he took her coat, handing off their belongings to the coat-check boy with a generous tip. “But that’s not what we’re here for,” he quickly reminded. She blinked hard, snapping herself free of the club’s distractions so she could focus on his instructions. “Let’s split up. You work the crowd, see if you can find anybody that knows what’s been happening on the street. I’m going to see if I can find Irma.”

“Irma?” she questioned, with an arched eyebrow. “Looks like I’ll miss out on that sweet-talking that you do.”

He shook his head with a soft, albeit nervous chuckle. Was the illustrious Nick Valentine blushing? “Don’t tell Jenny.”

They separated, Nick disappearing into the crowd as he made his way towards a back rooms, looking for the management who ran the Den. Meanwhile, Madelyn slowly surveyed the room, keeping a mental note of anyone that looked questionable as she gravitated towards the bar. The dancing, however, proved to be mildly distracting, bordering on erotic with the way some couples pressed up against one another. A glimpse of her past—dancing with Nate in a similar fashion when they were young and foolish lovebirds flashed through her mind while her ears burned hot. A tingle crossed over her skin and she practically swallowed the entire first glass of whiskey whole before ordering another.

Madelyn decided cooler heads would prevail and braced herself, letting out a calming exhale as she glanced around the club once more. As far as she could tell, there were no obvious signs that Winter’s men were present. If they were, it was likely they were holed up in the back where Nick had wandered off to. It was her every intention then, to charm the bartender into divulging information when she noticed a man sitting at the end of the bar—somebody who looked suspiciously familiar. Yet, she couldn’t place the man with the dark glasses and black, quaffed hair, or the immaculately tailored suit he wore. He wasn’t a mobster but didn’t look like a regular patron either. Still, she had the overwhelming feeling she had seen him before, racking her memory to figure out when and where.

The stranger didn’t seem to notice her staring but if he did, didn’t seem to care, continuing to nurse his bourbon in that little corner of the bar. And then, he flashed the tiniest of smirks, tilting his glass in her direction. Suddenly a shiver ran up her spine and the anxiety she had been carrying since Faneuil Hall blossomed in full force. She gripped her whiskey tight, shooting back the rest of the contents with only one thought—she needed to find Nick, and get out the hell out of there. Without another moment to lose she moved away from the bar, blending into the crowd of dancing bodies as she made for the back rooms. When she glanced over her shoulder, the man from the bar was not far behind.

Rather than fear, Madelyn felt a rush of annoyance and decided to act. In one swift motion, she whipped around, pinning the much taller man to the nearest wall. One arm pressed across his chest, her other hovering near his throat where she held the end of the hairpin she had yanked free from her curls. With a flick of her thumb, the small blade clicked free, now shimmering in the darkness—a wonderful little present from Nick.

She pushed her stalker a little harder against the wall, boxing him in. “Why are you following me?”

The man’s eyebrows shot up over his darkened shades as he choked out a startled laugh, hands raised in defense. “Maybe I just need to use the can!”

He pointed with both index fingers to the doors just beyond her field of vision, but she wasn’t going to let him off the hook so easily. She pressed again, harder against his chest. “Who are you?”

“A priest.”

Madelyn was incensed. “Bullshit.”

“A sailor’s mouth? Adorable,” he commented whimsically, almost as if he wasn’t being held at knifepoint in a dim club hallway. Then again, Madelyn wondered how easy it would be for the man to quickly turn the tables, considering their size difference. The thought had her easing the sharp end of the hairpin a little closer to his skin. He let out a meep. “You sure know how to charm a man.”

“Who are you really?” she asked again.

He wiggled his fingers where his hands were still poised mid-air. “Somebody with secrets to share.”

Well now, that was awfully convenient. Madelyn narrowed her eyes, still skeptical even as she relaxed, leaning away from him. The stranger sighed in relief as she lowered her arms, tucking her hair back into place with the deadly flower pin and stepped away. She looked him over as he straightened his tie, letting out a little cough as he cleared his throat.

Finally she asked, “What kind of secrets?”

“Ah, information isn’t free, my friend,” he replied. When she didn’t say anything, too frustrated by his sudden appearance, he continued with an amused expression. This time, he gestured towards the main room where the live music had grown louder and faster. “I’ll give you everything that you want to know for a dance.”

“No!” she instantly rejected.

He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

Madelyn hesitated over the man’s proposal in her mind and the mere second thought had her heart racing. What was she thinking? She couldn’t say yes. But wasn’t this all part of the job—the dangerous game her and Nick had agreed to? They weren’t going to corner Eddie Winter if they didn’t take risks, and right now, all she had to do was participate in one dance—not jump off a bridge. An entirely new set of nerves overtook her with the way the man was grinning at her, as if he could sense her inner turmoil. It was all made more difficult by the fact she couldn’t see his eyes behind the sunglasses, her own reflection shining back.

“Fine.”

He chuckled, beckoning her to follow. “Come on snake, let’s rattle.”

Madelyn ignored the jolt that shot through her when he gripped her hands, pulling her into the crowd of dancers as the music intensified. She hadn’t allowed herself to be manhandled since Nate’s death. There had been no intimacy, no flirtatious touching and certainly no dirty-dancing in an uptown speakeasy. Being escorted like a lady by Nick around town while they investigated cases certainly didn’t count. But now, she blamed it on being touch-starved and reeled in her focus. If she was going to do this, she might as well do it properly.

As the two fell into the rhythm of the music, she committed to every placement of her feet, every twist of her hip, every movement of her hands as they slid across the man’s shoulders and arms, the two of them gliding through the crowd as the music blared. He snaked an arm around her waist, palm flat along her lower back while he held her other hand in the air near their heads.

He was still wearing the same, fascinated smile. “Well Charmer, what do you want to know?”

“Do you work for Eddie Winter?” she asked bluntly, ignoring the pet name. Even if she had her assumptions, she still needed to ask.

The man guffawed, spinning her in time with the beat. “If I did, would I tell you?”

“Fair enough.”

“Who do you work for?” he asked, the two splitting apart for a brief moment to circle around one another.

Madelyn didn’t lift her gaze from his face, and she could only assume he was staring right back. She decided to be honest, hoping to catch more flies with honey, so to speak. “Valentine Detective Agency.”

Not the whole truth, but what the nameless man didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. He pulled her back, hands like fire as they glided along her waist to keep her close to him as they moved. She steeled herself, resisting the urge to pinch the nerve in his shoulder and have him writhing like a baby on the floor—Piper had taught her that trick.

“Going after the big dog, hey?” he questioned, not bothering to wait for her response. “Not surprising you’ve run into some dead-ends with all those disappearances. Now with the floaters showing up in the Harbor? Phew. Can’t catch a break, am I right?”

Madelyn wanted to know how he knew about her and Nick’s string of bad luck. She supposed if he knew about the agency, it was easy to hear about the rumors of their constant failures as well, set on by the Boston Police Department. She wanted to know a lot of things, but as the man mentioned the disappearances, she decided to change her approach.

“What do you know about the Railroad?”

The man flashed a low, alluring grin. “That old myth? Everybody knows they’re just a ghost story.”

She wasn’t convinced, especially by the way he seemed completely charmed by the very mention. “I’m not so sure,” she disputed. “What’s this I hear about ‘following the Freedom Trail’?”

“Where’d you hear that?”

“From a very reliable source,” Madelyn answered, almost defiantly. “Somebody I trust.”

“Here’s some advice, Charmer.” He spun her away at arm’s length before twirling her back just as fast, this time so her spine was flush against his chest. The stranger’s breath was hot against her ear as he let out a soft chuckle. “You can’t trust everyone.”

Madelyn’s brain didn’t catch up fast enough. By the time she registered the words, he was gone, disappeared into the sea of people. She spun around on her heels in an effort to catch one last glimpse, to shout a response, but there was no sight of the mysterious man. Unnerved, she found refuge away from the crowd, holding a hand to her chest as she steadied her breathing. It wasn’t just coincidence—he had to be the one who sent her the note on New Year’s Eve. More questions raced through her mind, sending her spiraling. Just how long had he been following her? And for what purpose? Was she in danger?

“Hey doll,” Nick found her near the lobby, his expression shifting into one of worry when he sensed her bewilderment. With him was a voluptuous and beautiful, icy-blonde haired woman, dressed in a red-sequenced dress with a slit that rested high up her leg. Madelyn could only assume it was Irma. “You alright?”

She shook her head and then nodded, before shaking her head again. “I’m not sure.”

Irma let out a hearty chuckle. “Looks like you met Deacon, sugar.”

“De—who now?” Nick questioned, clearly confused. “Madelyn?”

She decided this was neither the time nor the place to have the discussion with Nick. At least now, she had a name—something else to go on. Instead of responding as expected, she glanced between Nick and his lady-friend. “Did you get what you need?”

“Sure, sure,” he responded, taking her subtle hint. He tipped his head towards Irma with an appreciative smile. “Thank you, for all the assistance.”

“Don’t mention it, Mr. Valentine,” she purred. “Just don’t let your big, softy-self get hurt, all right? And please say hello to Jenny for me.”

Outside, Nick didn’t immediately press for details, taking the time to look over her demeanor to gauge her emotions. Surprisingly, Madelyn had mellowed out, attempting to rationalize her encounter and determine the next best step. Only then did he dare to flash a sideways smirk. “Make a new friend?”

“Find us a new lead?” she deflected, humorously.

Nick laughed, escorting her to his parked Cadillac. “What do you say to more of ‘walking into treacherous lands’?”

Madelyn flashed Nick a teasing grin. “Lead the way, Mr. Valentine.”

January 16th, 1958

Precinct 8 was the closest police department to Valentine Detective Agency, and it just so happened to be the only precinct in Boston with a somewhat friendly face. Marty Bullfinch—he and Nick used to work together, the closest thing Nick had to a partner before Madelyn came to the agency, and before Marty began hitting the bottle a little too hard. Their last case had them hunting down some golden grasshopper—more of a legend than anything tangible. By the end, the two had gone their separate ways, disgruntled and untrusting of what the other had to offer. It seemed that fate saw fit to bring the two back together at least one more time.

“What is this, some kind of joke?”

Marty’s disposition was alarmingly harsh when he saw the two enter the bullpen, standing up from his desk to sneer at Nick. He looked worse for wear, black hair greying at the sides and thin at the top. He looked haggard, dark lines under blue eyes indicative of a man who hardly slept and drank far too much. Madelyn stepped away as he quickly circled around to where they had been approaching but were now considering high tailing it out of there. Before either of them could take another step, Marty had snatched Nick’s hand in a firm shake, yanking him forward into a tight hug.

He laughed. “Ah Nicky, you old bucket of bolts. It’s good to see ya!”

Madelyn struggled to understand if it was a term of endearment or some in-joke between old friends. Either way, Nick appeared relieved by Marty’s true reaction to their presence. When they separated, the police detective eyed Madelyn with a surprised arch of his brows.

“You replace me with a dame?”

She took no offense, smiling as she extended her hand politely. Marty held it far too delicately, as most men did, sure they were going to break her if touched too roughly. “Miss Madelyn Hardy. Attorney on loan from the D. A’s office.”

“A little more than just a dame, Marty,” Nick said, amused.

“Right,” he nodded, grin a little more nervous as he adjusted his blue patterned tie. “What are you doing here? You know these guys that I work with all hate you, right?”

Nick didn’t waste any time, removing a tattered note from his coat. “Leave this behind at the Memory Den?”

Madelyn resisted the urge to laugh at the way Marty practically leapt to snatch it out of his hands, carefully confirming the paper’s contents before crumpling it up and tucking it into his jacket. Nick had shown her the letter the evening before, or what remained of it—a torn sheet of what read like instructions, signed by Eddie Winter himself. The only problem? A clear evidence marker that showed it should belong in Boston police custody. Irma had informed Nick that Mr. Bullfinch had been at the club, asking too many questions, but ultimately couldn’t resist the lure of a good drink and got careless.

“God damnit Nicky! Are you tryin’ to get me fired?” he snapped in a sharp whisper. “Worse yet, killed?”

“I’m trying to get you to tell me what’s going on,” Nick replied. “Why does Boston P.D. have evidence of organized crime perpetrated by Winter that they haven’t done anything about?”

Marty’s face scrunched up, clearly discomforted with the entire conversation. “Couldn’t you have come here asking for a drink?” he muttered, shifting his eyes around the room. Madelyn noticed that a few detectives and uniformed officers had begun to look their way. “Follow me.”

“Valentine, you aren’t going to get anything from coming here,” he announced, clearly putting on a show as he led them down a hallway out of sight. When the coast was clear, he ushered them into a cramped storage room with a single, low hanging light.

Nick had the foresight to wedge himself between Marty and herself, glaring at the other man. “This better be worth it.”

“Listen, I don’t know who to trust anymore. All the evidence that we collect from low-level busts, from these hits and murders? They keep disappearing. Changing hands. Sent to different precincts for ‘further analysis’,” Marty rambled, pupils blown wide. He was either paranoid or had seen a pattern so startling it could only be true. “When I ask, they say they are trying to match up handwriting samples, that it will take some time. I say, fuck ‘em!”

Madelyn leaned away, startled by his tenacity. “That sounds like a cover-up. A conspiracy to let Winter get away with his crimes!”

“Nothing concrete. I can’t tell who’s on the payroll,” Marty continued, voice atremble. “If somebody ain’t, they’re too chicken-shit to ask the tough questions. But we’re still sent to keep up appearances. Clean up the scenes, make sure to the people, we’re trying to make Boston a better place.”

Nick remained quiet, jaw locked in silent ferocity. Madelyn knew he wanted nothing more than to see Eddie Winter off the streets—by any means necessary. His eyes darkened, narrowing as he focused in on Marty’s jacket. “So there’s more of these self-incriminating notes, you say?”

The other man was just as good as picking up on Nick’s intentions, shaking his head and hands wildly. “Oh no, Nicky. Don’t get it in your head that you’ll be able to get any of these away from police custody. Got em’ locked up real tight across the city. You think you can walk in here because you know me but what are you gonna do in Quincy? Waltz in there and just…” Marty waggled his fingers for dramatic effect. “Five finger discount the joint?”

Madelyn’s chest tightened at the serious expression Nick wore, his intentions clear as day. “Nick…” she warned. “I—we can’t.”

“Yeah Nicky, listen to the lawyer broad,” Marty said in a panicked tone. “Is going after Winter really worth the trouble?”

“Right now there’s smoke burning all over Boston, clouding her in a thick sea of ash. And where there’s smoke, there’s sure to be fire,” Nick described, more determined than ever. “Do you really want to be here when the house burns down?”

His former partner swallowed hard. “God damnit—no,” he finally relented, rustling through his jacket pocket to return the scrap of evidence. “I’ve told you everything I know but—if I find out more, you’ll be the first to know.”

Nick nodded, finding the agreement acceptable. “Good. We’ll do our best to keep you safe, Marty.”

As Madelyn and Nick made their way from the hallway closet, down from the bullpen and into the precinct lobby, they heard Marty Bullfinch call out to them again in his ragged voice. “For shit’s sake! Next time, bring be a bottle of whiskey—or else!”

January 17th, 1958

Boston Common.

Madelyn once promised herself she would never return to the lakeside park or the surrounding neighborhood where her husband had been murdered. She didn’t need to walk the snow-covered streets to relive those moments—every agonizing second still etched into her mind each night when she closed her eyes. It hadn’t gotten easier, even a year later, even with the distractions that life had tried to provide her. She wondered if it ever was going to be any easier, or if she was meant to carry around that pain and guilt forever. Her chest tightened, body going numb as she stared down at the very spot, envisioning the stain of blood and the last flicker of life she saw in Nate’s dark green eyes. Quickly, before she succumbed to her grief, she reminded herself that the past was not the reason she was there.

That morning, Nick had finally confronted her about what had occurred in the Memory Den and she came clean about her suspicions that she was being followed. Madelyn couldn’t determine for how long, but between New Year’s Eve and that evening uptown, it wasn’t a fluke. He raised the same concerns that she did, wondering if there was an underlying danger, but after analyzing the circumstances a little more rationally, it didn’t appear so. The two agreed that if anything, somebody or something was trying to convey a message. While Nick worked in the shadows, tracking down Winter’s evidence files, they decided Madelyn would follow-up on the mysterious stranger. What she didn’t tell her partner, however, was where she was going that Friday evening.

The Common park stood empty, frozen still in the dead of night. Madelyn stood in the chill of the icy winter wind, watching as the hands on her watch signaled midnight. She used her shoe to scrape the snow away from the bronze placard on the ground—The Freedom Trail. Boston. Hundreds of tourists flocked to the site every day, but tonight, she was the sole visitor, searching for a clue. Curiously, there was a small smudge of red paint on the corner, something that looked like an arrow. She slowly moved to the nearby fountain that had been frozen over since Christmas, a low light emanating around the cobblestone. A second sign read—At Journey’s End Follow Freedom’s Lantern—more red paint covering some of the letters.

She was so engrossed with the thoughts of where the red brick pathway led—the graveyard next or was it the statehouse—that she barely registered the quiet footsteps and shadow approaching before it was too late.

“Dame like you shouldn’t be out this late.”

Madelyn swiveled to face the familiar taunting voice, briefly alarmed to find the man from the Memory Den leaning against a nearby light fixture, hands leisurely tucked away in his pockets. He was dressed in the same well-tailored suit from before, albeit with a winter coat to combat the chill in the air, and those damn sunglasses.

“You might be the next disappearance that private dick of yours ends up investigating,” he continued with a smirk.

She knew that it would be a battle of wits with his kind, shaking away any trace of anxiousness from her stance and expression. It would take all the field experience she had—or perhaps just pure instinct to handle the likes of him. At least now she knew his name. “Is this you threatening to snatch me away, Mr. Deacon?”

His lips flattened into a straight line before he let out a hearty chuckle. “How formal! Mr. Deacon, she says,” he shook his head and approached. When he noticed her apprehension, he kept his distance. “Just Deacon, Charmer.”

Madelyn found it peculiar but said nothing. Instead, she focused on the non-use of her name. Her need for pleasantries outweighed the minefield of red flags her mind set up. “Please, call me—”

“Charmer,” he interrupted, repeating the nickname with a grin. “Were you going to say Miss Hardy? Yeah, we don’t really do that.”

Of course he knew her name—Madelyn had to wonder what else he knew, and how much of an advantage this Deacon fellow had over her. When it came to information, she didn’t like it when she was left out of the loop. Rather than expressing her frustration, she peered at him curiously. “We?”

Deacon nodded, removing his hands from his pockets to gesture towards himself. “Me, and my many personalities,” he said with such certainty, she couldn’t quite tell if he was joking. He then tilted his head, jutting his thumb over his shoulder. “Follow me.”

Madelyn hesitated, knowing full well she had no reason to trust the man. A similar feeling to one she felt in the Memory Den washed over her and she stepped forward—be it bravery or impulse, she needed answers—and as Deacon mentioned before, he was willing to provide them. A voice in her mind reminded her that the knowledge she sought wouldn’t come so easily. Information wasn’t free. Still, she wouldn’t have come to the Common that evening if she weren’t looking for something, and she wasn’t about to return to the agency empty handed.

Instead of walking the Freedom Trail proper, Deacon led Madelyn up the streets into the North End neighborhood on the banks of the Boston Harbor. He was quiet, keeping a careful watch on their surroundings—at least that’s what she assumed he was doing, still questioning the purpose or usefulness of wearing such darkened shades at nighttime. Eventually, they came upon the Old North Church, the centuries old building damaged by a nearby property fire a few years prior. She stared up at the impossibly tall steeple and noticed that on the railing there sat a small, burning lantern.

“Freedom’s lantern,” she spoke.

Deacon was impressed. “Now you’re getting it.”

He withdrew a key from his pocket, using it to unlock the rusted chain that would otherwise bar entry to the church. Madelyn took the time to read over the faded plaque set into the red bricks—one if by land, two if by sea—the building was more than a historical site, it was holy ground, offering many heroes of the American Revolution their final resting place. Fitting that it would also be a safe haven for some secret organization. As she followed Deacon inside, she moved her hand over her chest to form a cross—half out of respect at the destruction she saw, half out of the embarrassment she felt for not stepping foot inside a church since Nate’s funeral.

“Ah, et spirtus sancti hmm?” Deacon questioned, his lighthearted tone bordering on offense. She shot him a silent frown, urging him to lead on. It was surprising that after two years, the interior had yet to be refurbished, many of the pews still showing signs of the fire that had swept through. A portion of the upper floor had collapsed, partially blocking the doorway that led to the basement and catacombs, but it didn’t deter Deacon. He waved a hand, motioning for her to move ahead of him. “Ladies first.”

Madelyn shook her head. “Priests first.”

“Oh, I’m going to like you.”

Deacon crouched to avoid knocking his head against the low beam, obliging her request to walk ahead of her down the darkened, narrow stairway. She braced herself along the wall as she followed, watching his every move, suddenly very aware they were surrounded by the dead. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, an irrational thought came to her, telling her this was all an elaborate ruse and she was about to be butchered and encased away in a tomb, never to be seen again. The sheer thought sparked a shiver to run up her spine and she inhaled a sharp gasp.

He glanced back at her, eyebrow raised. “Need me to hold your hand?”

Madelyn was sure she’d ever met somebody so insufferable. Despite herself, she forced back a smile. “I’m afraid you’ll have to do better than showing me a collection of dead bodies, Mr. Deacon,” she said the name intentionally, earning a rise out of him. “Been there, done that.”

“I know,” he answered, walking the two a few more paces towards a larger bronze plate, a replica of the ones that lined the city’s Freedom Trail. Wires connected the plaque to a mechanism beyond the brick wall and the further she scrutinized the space, the more she realized there was a room beyond. Deacon flashed another grin as he maneuvered the seal until it clicked a release. “I give you, the Railroad.”

Beyond the false wall was darkness but before she could move forward, Deacon caught her elbow, saving her from falling off the ledge. She was about to say her thanks when the room was flooded with light, Madelyn raising her arm up to shield her eyes. She squinted through the blinding spotlights to the other side of the gutted tomb to see three figures—two women and a man who looked suspiciously like her neighbor, Robby. Before she could speak, the woman in the center called out.

“Deacon, where’ve you been?”

He added his hand to Madelyn’s in a futile attempt to help block out the brightness. “Jesus, Dez—I said no intimidation tactics!”

With a snap of her fingers, the lights dimmed to a more reasonable setting, allowing Madelyn to readjust her sight. She pinched the bridge of her nose, wincing as the dark spots slowly faded away. Only then did she realize Deacon had yet to release his grip of her arm—she decided to say nothing about the infraction, for now. What she needed was answers—now.

“Will somebody please tell me what the hell is going on?” she asked, emphatically.

The woman across the way nodded, signaling Deacon to escort Madelyn across the way to where they could have a more civilized conversation. The others loitered nearby, listening on. Even there, Deacon held onto her and she wondered if he was doing so to keep her put, or to offer her some semblance of familiar comfort in a strange place. Either way, she didn’t bat his hand away, focusing on the red-headed woman as she spoke.

“I’m Desdemona, and I’m the leader of the Railroad.”

She said it plainly, as if it was of no consequence. But there it was—the truth. The Railroad wasn’t some fairytale, made up by Bostonians to scare each other in the night. They were real and apparently operating out from the ruins of the Old North Church. One question nagged at Madelyn’s mind—were they friend, or foe?

Desdemona continued before she could ask. “We went through a lot of effort to arrange this meeting with you.”

Madelyn shifted her gaze to Deacon, to her neighbor Robby, to the silver-haired woman standing guard, and back to Desdemona. “Why? You clearly know where I work, and where I live. A simple hello didn’t suffice?”

“I assure you, you have nothing to fear. In a world full of suspicion, treachery, and hunters—our organization must play our cards close to the chest. In our line of work, we have made many powerful enemies—you never know who you can trust.”

Deacon’s fingers tightened along her arm and she thought about the note—his note and words. Madelyn was only beginning to understand. “What exactly is it that you do?”

“I’m sure you’ve heard rumors,” Desdemona replied, resentfully. “That the Railroad are the perpetrators behind the many disappearances in the city.”

Madelyn nodded, knowing full well she and Nick had added that very theory to their case notes. It was one of the many reasons she had decided to follow the lead downtown in the first place. Desdemona sighed, shaking her head as she pulled a lose cigarette from her jacket pocket.

“There is some truth to the matter,” she continued, the smolder of her smoke casing an eerie glow on her face. “We seek to help people leave the city of their own volition. Battered women unable to divorce their husbands, unlucky bastards who can’t repay their debts to the loan sharks, or sometimes, just a person who wants to get away and begin again.”

“It’s all kosher,” Deacon quipped, as if sensing Madelyn’s tension. “New identities in new towns—and we have an agent within the Boston P.D. who clears the files for us.”

Madelyn was still skeptical of their intentions. “Are you saying you had nothing to do with the last twelve disappearances?”

“That, or the murders,” Desdemona shook her head. “We’ve ceased all activity to switch focus on gathering intel. Haven’t harbored anyone in months. Our main focus now—rather it was—is on dismantling the web of lies being fed to this city. The disappearances, the murders—we might be the only people stupid enough to fight back.”

Madelyn’s heart warmed at the idea, thinking of herself and Nick before focusing on the bigger picture. “Was?”

“We aren’t hiding out in an underground tomb for kicks,” Deacon remarked. “Two months ago—do you remember reading about that gas leak in Lexington that left a bunch of people dead?”

Desdemona hushed him with a wave of her hand, choosing to fill in the remaining details herself. “The media covered up the deaths, as expected. But it was no accident. We were targeted.”

“Who would do such a thing?” Madelyn asked.

“Likely the same people who are out to see that Eddie Winter does not spend another night in prison. The same people who are responsible for making so many Boston citizens disappear in the night, and perhaps the same people who have given you and your detective a string of bad luck.”

Desdemona’s claims were powerful, if true. She motioned to the very man at Madelyn’s side. “What remained of us were lucky to survive, thanks to Deacon. Now that our resources are limited, we have not had as many chances to help those in need or track essential people down.”

“Except for you,” Deacon mused, leaning close to her ear. At that, she finally wiggled herself from his grasp, ignoring his quiet chuckle.

“Why me, exactly?” she questioned. “Despite your limitations, your theory isn’t any different than the agency’s. I’m not sure how we can be of any help.”

“We won’t lie to you,” Desdemona voiced, eyes sharpening as Deacon made a small disagreeing sound. “Your name had come up in our intel too many times for it to be coincidental. So we sent out a few agents to ensure you weren’t a threat. Signaled Deacon to make contact and, well, now you’re here.”

Madelyn wasn’t pleased. “I still don’t appreciate being stalked.”

Deacon shook his head. “Don’t call it stalking. I’d call it…social distancing. Except, well, without the social part.”

“Where is this intel coming from? Winter’s men?” Madelyn asked. If so, she needed to follow-up with Nick, immediately. However, the uncertainty in Desdemona’s expression gave her pause. “Do you not know?”

“We were still in the process of decoding what we had when we were forced to find a new safe house,” the other woman explained. “Many of our resources were left behind.”

“That’s where you come in,” Deacon chimed in.

“Excuse me?”

Desdemona sighed, flicking her cigarette to the ground and extinguishing it with the sole of her leather boot. “Consider this your formal invitation to join our organization.”

Madelyn was caught off guard. She knew immediately what the dangers of joining a fringe, underground society would bring—the unknown frightened her and thrilled her all the same. Yet, she was also aware of how Desdemona and her fractured group were likely the last people left in Boston willing to take a stand against the darkness that threatened to envelop it whole. If she offered a lending hand, it could make all the difference.

“Okay,” she finally agreed with a nod. “I’ll join.”

“Now we need to know what to call you. Secrecy keeps us alive, and code names are a part of that,” Desdemona explained before Madelyn could interject—why couldn’t she just use her own name? “What’s yours?”

She ignored Deacon’s overjoyed expression as he leaned closer. “She’s already got one, don’t you, Charmer?”

Desdemona looked between them curiously, waiting for Madelyn’s approval. With a sigh, she nodded, agreeing to the moniker. At least it was fitting. The expression on the other woman’s face told her she thought so too.

“Welcome to the Railroad,” Desdemona offered a fleeting smile. “Agent Charmer.”

#fallout 4 #fallout au #deacon x f!solesurvivor #madelyn hardy #nick valentine #ENTER DEACON STAGE LEFT #marty bullfinch #desdemona #waiting 13k words for Deacon is worth it for this #but he was there all along #👀#this is my favorite chapter so far ;____;

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lynnsfics · 5 years ago

Text

Coffee Stained Confusion Ch 8

~~~

“Sergeant Barnes,” FRIDAY’s voice came from the GPS device Bucky held, “we found a facial recognition match. It came from an apartment’s video doorbell from 2 blocks southwest of here. It appears she entered the building approximately 5 hours ago. I’ll scan through the rest of the footage to see if she left.”

“Thank you FRIDAY.” Bucky looked at Sam, “If she’s still there then we may stand a chance.”

“Scan complete. She left the building, but not by choice. The video feed shows three men appearing in a van. I did a search on them and discovered they’re with HYDRA.”

“When was this?” Sam asked.

“About 4 hours ago,” FRIDAY replied.

“Oh God, I knew we should have gone after her sooner,” Bucky said, his feelings of guilt evident. “Did you scan the van’s license plate?

“Yes, but the van was reported stolen a few weeks ago, so that didn’t lead anywhere. However I have linked to the cameras on the streetlights, so if it passes any I’ll be alerted.”

“Thank you, FRIDAY,” replied Sam. “We should go check out the apartment, see if there’s any clues that can help us out there.”

“Good thinking, Sam. FRIDAY, keep the facial recognition search active too. Just in case she goes somewhere.”

The drive to the apartment was spent in tense silence, broken only by the sound of Bucky tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.

“Will you stop that?” Sam asked angrily, finally losing his cool.

“Look, I don’t know what you want me to do, but I’m stressed. It’s our fault she’s in this situation in the first place! Don’t you even feel guilty?”

“No, I don’t feel guilty, because we didn’t get her involved in this. She has pyrokinetic powers from HYDRA. She was clearly involved in some shady stuff before she met us. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to help her. She needs our help, obviously. That’s why I’m doing this,” he paused, “But I can’t focus on what needs to be done with your awful tapping, okay man?”

“Fine, you’re right. And I’m done with the tapping,” Bucky said, putting the car in park. “But only because we’re here.” He stepped out of the car and immediately took a step back. The smell of smoke was overpowering.

“The door’s been knocked clean off its hinges. Whoever did this wasn’t worried about being discreet. Look like typical HYDRA work to you?”

“Not at all,” Bucky replied, observing the scene. “Which means one of two things. They’re either desperate or they don’t need to worry about getting caught.”

There was a couch in the room with burn marks streaked across the back. A mirror sat in the corner, a residue of black smoke sitting on its surface. The floorboards were laiden with ash, with boot prints occasionally dotting it, leaving behind a pattern that spoke of fear. A trash bin lay on its side, ash spilling out, and that’s when Bucky realized. She had been trying to leave behind clues that she’d been taken. It was a message.

“I’ve received an update on the facial recognition search, but I don’t think you’ll like where she is.” FRIDAY’s voice came from the GPS. “There’s been a murder of another S.H.I.E.L.D. double agent, and she was seen there just twenty minutes before the crime. He died of burn wounds.”

Bucky went pale, “I knew this would happen, Sam. They’ve turned her into a weapon. Who knows where she’ll be now and whether we’ll be able to find her.”

FRIDAY chimed in, “I’ve actually been able to track the van from the scene of the murder and found it parked outside a building just about a half hour from here. That was the last place she was spotted on camera.”

“Well then,” Sam stated, “it won’t be as difficult to find her as you thought.”

They pulled into a grove of trees a half mile from the facility. Far enough to not be spotted by security cameras but close enough to make a quick escape. Sam cringed as the gravel road crunched noisily under their feet. The rain had stopped, leaving behind a dewy petrichor reminiscent of a spring afternoon.

“If you want to be found you might want to walk a little louder.” Bucky grumbled.

“Hey man, I’m just trying to quicken up the pace so we can go save your girl.”

“She’s not,” Bucky blushed slightly, “she’s not my girl.”

“Uh huh,” Sam said, “and you just happen to feel so bad about this because-”

Bucky interrupted him, “Because I’ve been there before! I’ve felt the guilt of being turned into a weapon. No one should have to go through that,” he whisper-shouted. “She’s an incredible person, but that’s all the more reason why she shouldn’t be with me. I don’t do relationships, not anymore. I don’t want someone to be put in harm’s way because of their connection to me. Now come on, we need to get there before she gets hurt even more.”

Hiding in the underbrush of the thicket outside the facility, Sam observed the security measures that HYDRA had put in place. “Look, there’s only two guards outside the door. If you can get us inside, we’re set. We shouldn’t have any trouble getting past them.”

“Getting in is the easy part,” Bucky responded, “it’s getting out that’s the tricky part.”

~~~

You awoke from the nightmare, blinking the sleep from your eyes. At least, you thought it was a nightmare, but one look at your surroundings told a different story. As you opened your eyes the clean bright light blinded you, forcing you to squeeze your eyes shut before slowly reopening them.

“Well, our little soldat is awake,” Alicia laughed. “I hope you enjoyed your, uh, shall we say rest?”

“What did you do to me?” The anger you had felt before was building up again. Glancing at your wrists you saw you were no longer in chains. You could burn this place down to nothing but ashes. After what they did to your family, it would only be fair.

“Oh, don’t worry. What we did to you was nothing compared to what you did to Miss Berlioz. See, our sources found out she was a double agent. And it seems that Elaine just couldn’t take the heat.”

Your voice was weak, “What,” you took a deep breath, “What are you talking about?” “You’re so inquisitive. I always liked that about you. You’ll see soon enough.” She clapped twice and a screen appeared in the wall. “We thought that by seeing your full potential, you’d be more, well, more willing to work with us. I’ll be back in a bit. Let me know what you think of the movie.” She smiled and walked out of the cell, the door blending in with the rest of the cell once it closed.

You looked at the mirrored walls and instantly knew it was two way glass. You shuddered, realizing there were probably at least ten HYDRA agents watching you. Without warning the screen started to play what appeared to be security camera footage of an empty alleyway. A woman in civilian clothes appeared on screen.

“Yes, Director Fury. I have the files. I’ll be there in an hour.” She put the phone back in her pocket. The sound of glass cracking was heard in the background and the woman whirled around and faced the screen. “Who’s there?”

You stepped forward out of the shadows, the fire in your hand glowing white with heat. Before the woman on screen could react you pounced into action, grabbing a fistful of her hair, effectively setting her head ablaze. She cried out in pain as you latched onto her wrists. When you finally let go, the bone was exposed through charred flesh.

You squeezed your eyes shut, not able to bear seeing what came next. Bile rose in your throat as you continued to hear the screams over the speakers, until finally a sickening thud was heard. You opened your eyes to see yourself on screen standing over the body, almost burnt beyond recognition. The footage shut off, leaving you alone in the cell with your thoughts.

~~~

Taglist:

@sydneyisnotawriter

I hope all of you are staying safe and staying home! Like always, likes and reblogs are appreciated! Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list! Love you all <3

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thought-i-to-myself · 6 years ago

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Since you're absolutely brilliant, Id love to hear your opinion and break down on the ending bickering scene and the development of Ann "This is my life now, piss off good sir" Walker because what an icon. I can only hope this little cute skirmish brings on many sweet and funny moments between the two. 💞

YES I THINK IT SHALL. Ann Walker was on fire this episode, except for that moment when it was her drawing of Anne that was actually on fire which was devastatingly tragic. BUT YES. We have known all along that Ann had some fight in her so it was absolutely thrilling and inspiring to see her stand up for herself, by herself. Let’s recap:

In 1 x 02, Anne finds out that some members of Ann’s idiotic tribe are totally taking advantage of the fact that she is $$$ loaded, and she helps her compose a strongly-worded letter as a means of defending her and her cash. And Coach Anne says that she’d be willing to come back next time and dictate another, but like all great coaches, she hopes instead that Ann will be able to do it herself in the future. Teach a woman to fish, and all that …

In 1 x 05, we see some sparks of Ann’s fight, particularly when it comes to Ainsworth. First, Anne again helps her write a letter telling that wretch off (lesbians love writing letters, if you didn’t know) and then Reverend Assworth has the nerve to come right the fuck over anyway. Ann sticks to her guns and tells James (“Yes, thank you James!”) to send him on his merry way, and to remind him that she JUST SENT HIM A FLIPPING LETTER TELLING HIM TO BACK OFF. But I think it’s important to note that Anne is in the room here, she’s literally in Ann’s corner so to speak. [Also is it just me or does anyone else say “Yes, thank you James!” in Ann’s perfect voice every time you see James on screen? Just me? Ok whatevs.] Secondly, there’s a part later in this episode where Ann has sent word that she’s not feeling well and instructed everyone to leave her alone, and ELIZA this time comes right the fuck over anyway. What is it with these people? And Ann has a great little scene (that I know I still need to gif for @nikkupsticks, sorry friend) where she says she didn’t hear the doorbell ring and Yes-thank-you-James tells her that Eliza came around back. Ann groans (the hbo caption actually says “[groans]”) and tells Miss Parkhill snarkily that “she sneaks in,” and that people show up anyway even when you ask them not to. Then she tells Miss Parkhill that she might head back upstairs, and though this is kind of a throwaway line, to me it’s signaling that Ann does have that fight-or-flight instinct within her somewhere, it’s just buried under layers of civility. But she’s well on her way to reaching her breaking point.

In 1 x 06, Ann tells Anne that when she’s with her, she feels like she could take on the world and boom, it’s like by saying it outloud like that Ann has totally jinxed herself because OF COURSE now she’s gonna have to learn how to take on the world without Anne first before she gets to be with Anne. And throughout episodes 5 and 6 we see several moments where Ann is so sure of her feelings for Anne when they’re together in the bedroom or behind closed doors but then 180s in the light of day, faced with her family and the jeering eyes of society. And the difference in all those instances is Anne: when Ann has Anne as backup, as her coach, her teammate, she is willing and able to fight for what she wants. That is, until Ann - sweet cinnamon roll Ann who has been sort of cast aside and dragged around by her family her whole life - has to go to Scotland to be with big sis and big sis’s disgusting human of a husband because family always knows what’s best (???) and birthing children solves all a person’s problems (???).

UGGHHH that brings me to the heartbreaking scene in 1 x 08 where Ann is so sad and downtrodden - she doesn’t know yet that Anne’s written, that Anne still cares for her - that she’s basically resigned herself to think maybe she should go be with whatever poor schmuck Capt. Sutherland wants. I mean this is the product of years of abusive behavior by her family which has led Ann to believe that she’s worthless. And with no signs of life from Anne, Ann’s spark is all-but-extinguished until big sis ELIZABETH swoops in because big sisters are fucking awesome and girl knows that it’s SISTERS BEFORE MISTERS and CHICKS BEFORE DICKS and that friendships between women are literally the most important thing in the world full stop. So Ann Walker hears that Anne hasn’t let go yet and the flame is reignited and whatever idea Ann had tried to convince herself of that being with joe schmoe might actually be bearable is struck down by Elizabeth’s lightning rod words that you should do what who makes you happy and if that’s a coal pit-sinking brunette in a greatcoat and a tophat with a killer smile and eyes that make you go weak at the knees then go for it little sis because gal pals like that don’t come along every day!!! Is that not what she said? Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s what she said.

So you know what comes next, Anon: it’s “I’ll deal with it,” and “bye bitch, thanks for having me, see ya never!” and “everything that has to do with me is my choice.“ And yeah, ok, so she’s got Eliza and Eliza’s hubby there and Elizabeth is secretly on her team too, but she’s standing up for herself because she’s finally reached her breaking point and come to the conclusion that letting other people decide for her is not working, civility be damned. Remember how joyfully Ann talked about “my sister, Elizabeth!!” in episode 2? Go back and watch it, she says it like that 3 times in the span of 10 minutes. And now here we are, however many months later it is, and Ann is staring into the face of her older sister Elizabeth who is revealing that she’s actually miserable and intimating that husbands and babies aren’t always all they’re cracked up to be. So I think that for Ann, she sees in her sister’s eyes what her world will look like if she goes down that path and that fight-or-flight kicks in. And then there’s Anne. And there’s that feeling, that deep, indescribable thing in her bones that Ann feels when she’s with Anne. That thing that turns her into Ann “I’d love to paint you” Walker and Ann “I’ve been in love with you since the first time I saw you” Walker and Ann “it’d be like a marriage”/“like a wedding?”/“is it not the same as a proposal?” Walker. And that thing wins out. Because that thing is real, and Anne’s real, and because “often a good friendship [with a woman] is better than a marriage [to a man].” And if a good friendship with a woman is better than a marriage to a man, then what could be better than secretly marrying that good friend who is a woman and living as secret wives gal pals for the rest of your days. Not a damn thing, that’s what.

The wifely witty bickering at the end of the episode is just icing on the (wedding) cake. These two have gone through the gauntlet of emotions, both together and apart this season, but this idea that they’d make a lasting commitment to each other and solidify it with some sort of symbolic gesture has been lingering between them for months at this point. But now there are no more words. No more yes’s or no’s. No more “I can’t.” No more “you came so close.” Exchanging rings in the carriage, sealing it with kisses, taking communion together, That Finger Graze, smiling on the way out of the church - all of it was wordless. They didn’t have to say anything. They knew how serious it was for each of them. They understood the gravity of it all, the weight of what they were doing, what it meant, and what it cost. And so by the time they got back to the alleyway, they had taken the sacrament together and were wearing rings on their fingers, and there were no more questions about what they were to each other or what they’d be in the future. It was done.

So the last scene, the playful back and forth - that’s totally what marriage is, isn’t it? It’s a comfort thing. Anne can joke with Ann about her being morethan a pretty face because she knows she’s not going anywhere. Ann can stomp all over Anne’s plans, or boss her around (please god yessss) and order her to put away her pocketwatch because she knows Anne won’t leave her. And those all just words anyway, you know? And now, our Ann(e)s, our beautiful, remarkable, perfect Ann(e)s are married. And that is so much bigger than words.

This show is fucking perfect.

#gentleman jack #mic drop #anne lister #ann walker #god i love this show #askTITM #i know these are so long #im sorry #scene breakdowns are my jam #i could do this all day #bring it on #the ann(e)dom #sophie rundles face #scene breakdowns #deep thoughts

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 6 years ago

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Love Isn’t Always On Time Part One

Prologue | Next Part | Masterlist

Notes: Full quotes in italics indicate scenes set in the ‘past’ (the quotes around that will make more sense in a bit ;) )

Not beta-read

Summary: When I’d been recruited by S.H.I.E.L.D, I had never imagined I’d wind up where I was. “This is deeper than deep cover. If you have any reservations about this, you need to voice them now.” “I understand, Director Fury. But I’m ready for this.”

Warnings: Cursing; some violence (not graphic)

Rating: T (this may change)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes

“Your mission is simple.”

The words rang through my head every day, over the sound of my fingers flying over typewriter keys.

“You will appear in an alley on March 3rd, 1937, in New York City at 3:03. You will go around the corner, get a newspaper, circle the block once, and then return to where you appeared by 3:08. We will pull you back. Should anything happen, you are to keep a low profile, stay in New York, and return to that spot every day at 3:08 until we pull you back. Am I understood?”

I cursed under my breath as I straightened up, leaning forward and un-sticking the ribbon.

“Y’alright back there?”

I looked up to see my friend Madge looking back at my quizzically. I nodded, smiling.

“The ribbon,” I excused, shaking my head and settling back in my seat, pulling my handkerchief out to rid myself of the dark spots made by the ink. I glanced over at the clock. Nearly 3.

“I’m going to grab my lunch,” I said, pulling the letter is transcribed out of my typewriter and setting it in my ‘out’ tray.

“You always eat so late. How does it not ruin your appetite for dinner?” Madge asked as I covered my typewriter. I shrugged, smiling.

“I eat dinner late, too. I’ll be back in a few!”

When I’d been recruited by S.H.I.E.L.D, I had never imagined I’d wind up where I was.

“This is deeper than deep cover. If you have any reservations about this, you need to voice them now.”

“I understand, Director Fury. But I’m ready for this.”

Maybe it was stupid to go back to that alley every day, with a newspaper from that day. It wasn’t as if it was to show them that I’d completed my mission, but that I’d repeated it time and time again, every day. Something to shove in their faces, and ask them what the hell they were thinking before taking a hammer to their stupid machine myself.

I eyed the date at the top of the paper: June 8th, 1940.

Three years.

It had been a hell of an adjustment.

S.H.I.E.L.D had set me up for an emergency: money, a fake social security card, a passport and an ID. I learned quickly that $25 went a lot farther in this time than it did in mine. I’d spent that first night tired and scared and alone in a boarding house. I didn’t sleep; I couldn’t, I was jumpy, itching to stay in the alley on the off-chance they’d be trying to pull me back, terrified that I’d missed them.

The next day was much of the same. By the end of the first month, I had gotten myself a regular room in a nicer boarding house, and was interviewing for jobs. A week after that, I became part of the secretarial pool at Harper, Cheswick, and Lowe. It was three blocks away from what I had come to think of as my alley.

It was a quiet spot; I’d never seen anyone else in there when I’d been in, even when I’d hung around for a few hours. Which was why I was very, very surprised to see someone else there.

Well, a couple of people, actually. One large guy whaling on a smaller fellow. The smaller guy was putting up a hell of a fight, and it looked like he was getting in a couple of good hits, but no way did he have a chance against the guy hitting him.

“Hey,” I snapped. The larger guy turned to face me, fist still raised. His eyes narrowed at me.

“Run along, Miss,” he said before he made to turn back to the smaller guy.

“Yeah, the thing is,” I spoke up, stepping closer, “I’m not gonna run anywhere. And you’re gonna leave him alone.”

The man turned back to me, lowering his fist to his side. I could see him bristling with anger. I steadied myself as he stepped closer. It had been awhile since I’d needed to fight, but I was still pretty confident in my abilities... even if the guy was a fair bit larger than me as well.

“I’m really not in the mood. Please don’t make me hit a lady—“ he started, ignoring the smaller guy’s protests in the back as he got closer.

“I’m not making you do shit,” I said lightly, “you’re choosing to hurt someone right now. I suggest you leave. Here, I’ll even step aside so you can.” I did as I said, taking a step to the side. The man stared daggers at me before turning back to look at the smaller guy, who had propped himself up against some garbage cans.

“Runt ain’t fuckin’ worth it, anyway,” the man grumbled as he pushed past me. I watched him go, making sure he wasn’t coming back before I turned back to the other guy, crouching next to him as he gathered himself.

“Are you alright?” I asked softly. He glanced up at me, a little red in the face as he nodded. Up close, there was something familiar about him, someone I could swear I’d seen in a history book.

“I appreciate the help, Miss, but I had that handled.” I smiled a little. The guy had guts, I’d have to give him that.

“You’re bleeding,” I said, pulling my handkerchief out of my pocket.

“Here.”

He took it, dabbing at his lip and wincing.

“Jesus, Steve,” Our heads turned to see a tall man standing in the alleyway.

“I leave you alone for five minutes,” he went on. I straightened, holding my hand out for the guy (Steve, apparently). He took it, letting me help him up.

“Friend of yours?” I asked, nodding to the man that was coming closer. He nodded, mumbling, “He’s alright.” I glanced down at my watch. 3:10, and nothing. I shook my head.

“I’ll leave you to your friend, then,” I said, nodding to them.

“Your handkerchief—“ Steve started, but I waved him off.

“I’ve got another,” I said before I turned, leaning the alley with my paper in hand. As I walked back to work, I couldn’t help but wonder, about the familiarity of his face, the way his name seemed to suit and stirred something up in me.

At 4:16 that afternoon, my typewriter ribbon stuck, and I sat frozen for a moment. I had just stopped Captain America from getting his ass kicked.

Tag list: @aactuaaltraash

#Love Isn't Always On Time #Stucky x Reader #Steve Rogers x You #Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes #Steve Rogers x Reader #Bucky Barnes x You #Bucky Barnes x Reader #Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes

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imagineyoungjustice · 6 years ago

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1.5k Followers Milestone Drabbles 5/10 (Sidelined Part 3)

Okay so I ended it prematurely because I was starting to run into writer’s block in the last scene and I didn’t want to take more time in making you all wait. Also I normally don’t like bringing in people who haven’t shown up in YJ but I made a small exception for Leslie Thompkins only because I didn’t know how they could have explained the situation to a regualr hospital staff. Anyway to the anon that wanted more M’gann/Artemis/Reader friendship I’ll gladly put it in part 4 if people want another part when I’m taking requests again! -Terra

Tags: @ljblve @loverbug1123 @aworldwideapart @wallywestie @yodeling-soup @the-real-bea-marley @ijustwannabecanadian @stuck-as-me

Want to be added to our tag list? Send us and ask!

Masterlist for Sidelined!

Adrenaline coursed through your veins, the sounds of fists connecting with flesh and grunts of pain filling the alleyway. Your breath came out in sharp pants, billowing out in front of you in the cold autumn air. You had never felt more alive than you had in this moment. You danced around the crooks, there one moment and gone the next, flowing around their attacks as if you were made of liquid. Above you, the sky was clear. Stars glittered overhead like specks of crystal.

“Damn bitch,” the one who you assumed was the leader of the group spat, blood hitting the pavement from where your fist had split open his lip. “someone kill her already!”

You took in your surroundings, watching as the crooks surrounded you in the narrow back alley. You weren’t nervous at all; in fact, you were quite the opposite. A smirk made its way onto your lips as you stared down the ringleader through your mask.

“I wouldn’t look so damn smug if I were you, girl.” He spat, taking a few steps towards you. “We’ve got the upper hand now, if you hadn’t already noticed ‘yer completely surrounded. Ya’ might as well give it up, ya’ can’t take us all down on ‘yer own.”

You chuckled low; your smirk widened ever so slightly. “Can’t I though?” On cue, several smoke pellets dropped to the ground at your feet from the rooftops, activating on contact with the asphalt and shrouded you from their view. As soon as the smoke concealed you, you jumped into action, taking out legs and arms alike as the crooks stumbled around blinded, coughing through the smoke. They swung with reckless abandon in any direction they believed you were, and you used that to your advantage. Behind you through the smoke, you could hear the others that you weren’t focusing on going down. Good. The faster you wrapped this up the better.

The two of you worked in tandem through the ever-thinning cloud of smoke, flipping and kicking and punching, and everything in between until the last of them fell. Then came your least favorite part: tying them up. This was the one part you couldn’t rush, if not done properly they could escape before the authorities arrived. So even though you operated with a small window of time, you forced yourself to work as diligently as you could. Making sure your knots were secure, you were pulled by your ally further back into the alley: time was up.

You let yourself be led, almost tripping over the uncovered sewer grate in your haste. Just before the smoke cleared and you secured the manhole cover over your head, you could see the tips of two pairs of boots: one yellow and one red. You turned to your ally again as he led you down the twisting maze of sewer tunnels, trying not to breathe in deeper than you wee forced to at the stench that permeated the air. Sewer crawling was high up on your list of things you hated about your job.

After a good twenty minutes of running through tunnels and making sure your trail was unfollowable, you were brought back to the surface, much to your delight, and back into the (relatively) clean air of Central City. “Cut it a little close didn’t you Rob?” You turned to your boyfriend as you slipped into the building next to the two of you. “One more second and they would have caught the two of us.”

“We made it out, didn’t we? Besides, it wouldn’t have been as close as it was if you didn’t toy with them like always.” He snapped back, but it didn’t hold any real heat to it. You know he always enjoyed the thrill of almost being caught, slipping away at the last moment. The two of you started to go through the motions, taking off your gear and cleaning up. The old warehouse you were set up in definitely screamed “in need of repair” but the lights more or less worked and so did the water if you hit the pipes hard enough. You weren’t complaining against your hideout of choice when your only alternative was to go back to the cave, or even worse, your house. Just the thought sent a shiver up your spine and an unpleasant churning of anxiety in your stomach.

As if sensing your thoughts Dick, now sans his Robin costume turned to you. “You can’t run from this forever you know.”

Your lips turned down into a frown. You two had been going through this conversation more and more now since he first ran into you after you had run from the cave. You were angry still, and terrified, hiding in some of the worst places in Central City against your better judgement, anywhere that you knew your uncle wouldn’t look for you. Of course, Dick had been able to find you immediately, you weren’t good at living on the streets and it showed… and made you an easy target for some of the worst to try their luck at what few meager belongings you had swiped from your home. After saving you from a fight you hadn’t been in a situation to take alone, you had only just convinced him to help you keep hiding, just until you were ready. He agreed, albeit reluctantly, and against his better judgement, but only on the condition that you eventually go back home or at least back to the cave and talk this out with someone. There was also the bit about him keeping an eye on you as well under Batman’s nose but that was the part you cared the least about. Fighting crime only got better when you knew your boyfriend was with you giving you a helping hand from the shadows.

Now here you were in this shithole of an abandoned building, a few weeks out from the incident with him pestering you again that you needed to go back home. Having him around had started to lose its luster, even if deep down you knew he was right. “Who says I can’t? I’m doing well enough so far, aren’t I?”

“Only because I’m keeping an eye out for you. Look, you know I’m only saying this because I care about you. You can’t keep running from this forever. If you don’t go to them, I’ll… tell them where to find you.” Dick had placed his hand on your arm, his blue eyes boring into your own filled with nothing but genuine concern for you. Nevertheless, you felt panic begin to settle in, your heart thundering against your chest as your flight response kicked in.

“You can’t! You wouldn’t!” You took a few steps back from him, your hands shaking at your sides as you balled them into fists.

He sighed, grabbing his shades off the counter. “I can and I will, but not yet. I can promise you maybe a week, but living like this? It’s not the right way to handle things. I know you know that.” He slipped his shades on, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek before heading to the door with a simple “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You took a few deep breaths to calm yourself down from the panic you had worked yourself into. You still weren’t ready to face your parents, your brother, of all people. Your nights were still haunted by the way he screamed your name while M’gann and Dick dragged him out of the core room during the simulation, the look on his face when you all woke back up in the cave. Maybe you were a coward but having to confront the aftermath of your bottled-up feelings of inadequacy was never something you had thought you were ever going to do. Hell, if M’gann hadn’t fucked over everyone’s mind in the simulation you wouldn’t have even blown up like you did in the first place. You would have just kept everything in, maybe lived on happily enough with Dick, maybe not, but you would have been at least somewhat content to just continue to on like you had grown somewhat comfortable with, always having to fight for every scrap of attention you could steal away from Wally’s spotlight. Yeah sure your situation always sucked, and left you crying into your pillows many nights, but you were used to it. You were pretty sure the look of devastation on Wally’s face hurt a lot more than everything you had endured up until now.

You didn’t realize you had started crying again until you heard the distinct plik of a tear hitting the concrete at your feet. You sucked a quick breath in and used the back of your hand to wipe at your eyes. Even now the thought of your almost nonexistent relationship with your brother and your family had you breaking down, your heart wrenching and the tears cascading, yet this time it was amplified by the look of Wally’s face of complete devastation. You sighed and gave a halfhearted sniffle. There was no use in you getting angry at M’gann like that, it wasn’t her fault, not really.

You heaved a sigh and wiped at your tears. In truth, you were tired, and not just physically. You were also completely and utterly mentally exhausted. Maybe to some degree Dick was right, that things would improve if you went back. Nonetheless you shook your head, dragging your feet to your makeshift bed in the next room. Sleep first, then you could wallow about your situation some more in the morning.

As night turned into day, then again and again until the days began to meld together again, you still did nothing about changing your current situation. Your week was up, but Dick always was a bit of a pushover with you. Nonetheless, Dick was starting to hound you more and more now, increasingly exasperated at your actions. “Just this last patrol, I promise.” You’d tell him. Well that “last patrol” started almost a week ago, and your boyfriend was running out of patience.

The two of you were as usual out amongst the streets and rooftops, though this time your destination would take you to the shipyard. You had been tracking weapons deals across the city for almost this whole time now. It was something you had noticed upon overheard conversations between your brother and uncle and noticed a faint underlying pattern between the seemingly random deals. They had brushed you off when you confronted them about it, but not Dick. He had listened to your theory, and even agreed that you sounded like you were onto something. It was through his skills as a budding detective that the two of you had started to uncover the gang behind the deals, hitting those on the streets at every chance. Only a few talked, and they were the ones that knew the least, but between the two of you, a case was slowly being built. Tonight was supposed to be one of their biggest deals yet, and you couldn’t pass up the opportunity to not only get more information about the one behind all of this, but also to keep a lot of dangerous weapons from falling into the wrong hands.

“Thunderstrike, do you have eyes on them?” Robin’s voice rang out in your comm. You peered around the mast of the ship you were using for cover, scanning the place the deal was supposed to go down. Below, you could just make out the faint shadows of the thugs milling around the dock. Switching to night vision, you were able to count an additional three that you hadn’t seen before.

“Twelve so far.”

“That’s half as many as there were last count. I think it’s safe to say we have the right place. I’m almost in position to get a better idea of what we’re dealing with.”

“Copy.” You took your hand away from the comm and kept an eye as more and more thugs seemed to appear out of nowhere. You could feel your stomach dropping with each new person to show. Your chances were looking increasingly slim, even with Robin at your back. “Robin.”

“I know. This isn’t looking good.” There was a brief pause before Robin spoke again. “It looks like some of them have patches on their jackets. I can’t get a good look from here. Can you?”

“I can try hang on.” You peered around the mast again, zooming in with a new feature on your mask courtesy yet again of your boyfriend. It wasn’t perfect, everything was still slightly blurry, but you were still able to just make out the design on the patch. “I’ve got it. It looks like…” Your blood turned to ice. “Oh no.”

“Thunderstrike?”

“It’s them, Robin.” You heard him swear, followed by a quick “I’ll be right there” before the comm went dead. You slipped back into your hiding spot, trying to gather yourself. The Brass Ravens was their name. A new and upcoming weapons gang that seemed to take Central City by storm over night. Your Uncle Barry and Wally had been on their case for months now, but they always proved just a little too good at covering their tracks, leaving nothing more than the tiniest scraps behind for your uncle to pick up. All of this suddenly made a lot more sense now. Operating through unmarked “front gangs” was typical of their MO, allowing the real gang to keep their distance from the public and operate largely unhindered. The fact that their “core” members were actually making an appearance gave away just how big and important this deal tonight was going to be.

Robin appeared beside you just as you had finished your last thought. His face was a mixture of grim reality and panic. “We need to bail.”

That wasn’t what you were expecting. “What do you mean we need to bail? We can’t just let them go through with their deal!” You hissed at him.

“Well we certainly can’t fight them on our own!” He snapped back. “We’d get killed for sure!”

“There must be something we can do! This is the best break we’ve gotten on this case ever! If we can just get one of the marked gang members maybe we can actually get some useful information. I can’t just walk away from this.” Maybe you were being stubborn, irrational, whatever, but you knew deep down it would be wrong to walk away and do nothing while a deal like this would put countless innocents in danger. You would never be able to forgive yourself if you knowingly let that happen.

“I’m not suggesting we do nothing, we bail and leave a beacon for other league members to intercept, draw them to the deal and let them handle it.” He said, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Will they even get here in time?”

Robin hesitated, and though it was just for a brief moment, it gave you the answer you needed: there wasn’t one. You stood up. “I’m going in whether you’re there to back me up or not.”

The sharp hiss of your real name startled you into looking at him. “Listen to me! This is serious, not some small-time gang establishing their territory. These people are the real deal, and way above both you and me! Going in there will just get both of us killed, and I’m not going to just sit here and watch you die again!” Your eyes were wide with shock at his outburst. The way his hands clenched on your upper arms, the slight tremble to his voice and frame. He was hurting, just as you had been. You felt the guilt wash over you instantaneously. You had been so caught up in your own issues that you hadn’t even once thought about how traumatizing the failsafe mission must have been for him as well. To believe that everyone he had known and cared about was dead, and some by his orders. You never thought about how he might have felt about knowing he left you to die in the core of the ship.

“I just can’t…” His voice was even lower now, and you hated how broken it sounded.

“I’m so sorry.” You whispered; your own head bowed in shame. “I spent so much time stuck in my own pity that I didn’t realize how you must have felt.” He opened his mouth to speak, but you pushed his arms off you. “But I won’t put innocents in danger. With no guarantee that the League will get here in time, I’m going in.”

He called your name again and this time grabbed your wrist. “Don’t, please.”

“I would never be able to forgive myself if they got away because the League didn’t get here in time, Dick. This is the only option. Drop the beacon, I’ll buy as much time as I can.” He moved to stop you again, but this time you were ready. As his other arm moved to restrain you, you grabbed and twisted him around, pushing him off the edge of your perching place so he’d have to grapple to safety. You felt horrible for doing it, but the time he’d spend getting back up to your hiding spot would give you enough time to move in.

And that’s what you did. One moment you were perched on the edge of the clearing, the next you were gone, hidden in the shadows as you called on every last bit of training you had in you. You picked off the guards along the edges one by one, but you knew that your job was only going to get more and more difficult despite shortening the numbers gap between you and them. The guards you were incapacitating were the unmarked ones, the weakest and least trained members. The gang members in the middle all carried the patches. You found yourself hoping for the first time in a long while you’d see your Uncle before you had to go into the open.

However as in your usual case of luck, it was not on your side. You don’t remember much about the following series of events, but you did know that you were easily, and laughably unmatched. You did your best, but in just a few short minutes, you were out cold. As everything faded to black you thought you heard Dick in the distance, but you were unable to process it before you were completely down for the count.

*****

The first thing you registered upon waking up was the pounding of your head, the agonizing throb at your temples and where you (eventually) remembered being struck. You couldn’t suppress the groan of pain that escaped you. Nausea crashed over you as you swayed in your spot, your stomach twisting and churning and threatening to upheave at every pulsating jab of pain. Thinking was difficult, but you forced yourself to calm, and gather your bearings to the best of your abilities. Sweat broke out along the expanse of your skin with the effort of pushing past your pounding head and extreme nausea. That’s how you deduced that you were still in costume, sans your gloves and (presumably your utility belt (You still hadn’t been able to work yourself up to opening your eyes yet). Concussion. You definitely had a concussion.

Right in that moment, you noticed you weren’t alone in the room. Your stomach became a pitfall (albeit a still churning one, fucking nausea). There were slow footsteps in time with the pulsating in your head moving around you in a circle.

“Well, well, well. Look who finally decided to join us.” The voice came from the wrong direction of the footsteps. Not the person in the room with you then, as the voice came from in front of you slightly above. There was a hint of static to it, a speaker then. So, who was the guy circling you, a goon? It seemed the most likely. This meant the voice in the speaker was the one in charge. Not so good then. If the boss was speaking to you via a speaker that meant there was almost certainly an accompanying camera meant to watch you. This would make any attempt at escape a lot more difficult. “Now, normally I’m not one to cut to the chase, however, I’m on somewhat of a time crunch at this time so I’ll make myself perfectly clear: you’re going to give me all the information you have about the Flash and his little League buddies. Then you’re going to tell me everything about your little gaggle of will be’s.”

You felt your anger rise. Like hell you would ever tell this sleaze bag anything. However, at the moment your stomach held you back from saying the rather colorful string of words that you wanted. The footsteps stopped, and suddenly a hand was gripping your chin, holding your head up so that his rancid breath rolled across your face and assaulted your senses. “You better answer when ‘ta boss is talkin’ ‘ta ya.”

Well, he did ask for it. The moment you opened your mouth, the contents of your stomach proceeded to evacuate you and project themselves all over his face. Your satisfaction was drowned out by the booming laughter coming from the speaker above.

“Ha! Serves you right not following my orders!” The laughter eventually subsided, and you could hear a warmer tone creeping into his voice which had your hair standing on end. “Please forgive my rather dull-minded hireling Jared, he was instructed to bring you back unharmed, but clearly my orders need to be further… ingrained.” The way his voice dipped into maliciousness at the end sent a bolt of fear through you. Not much was known about the leader of the Brass Ravens, save that he seemed to have zero motive for his actions. Nothing seemed to matter to the guy, as he had sacrificed men, money, deals, anything and everything while your Uncle had been trying to build a case against him and trace him down. Could it just all be for his own enjoyment? Possibly, but that thought threatened a more sickening reality that you really wished wouldn’t come true. The world was bad enough with the Joker, it didn’t need another, arguably more terrifying one.

“Ah but you’re no use to us concussed as you are, little one.” The man cooed, his voice now back to its warmer tone. We’ll continue this once you’re all better. Don’t worry, you’ll be well taken care of in the meantime.” You didn’t like that, you certainly didn’t trust that, but at the moment you had no choice but to be at this man’s mercy. “Oh before I forget, Jared?” You saw the man in question stiffen as his name was called. “Report to me immediately so we can discuss your disobedience.” Jared’s facial expression certainly didn’t help placate your fear for your own well-being. You actually felt bad for him, and you hoped that it wasn’t as bad as it sounded, though you knew it was likely worse.

True to his words, you were actually treated fairly well. Shortly after Jared had left, another person entered. This individual wearing medical gear, proceeded to check you over as best as he could without removing any of your costume. “Boss’ orders” was all he told you when you managed to ask why. None of your situation made a lot of sense, and it kept you on edge despite the three hot meals that tasted admittedly amazing and quality medical care. Your concussion wasn’t too terribly serious, and you were estimated to be back to complete functionality within the week. This gave you time to look around your cell. Despite the otherwise quality treatment, you hadn’t been moved to another room, just given an old mattress to sleep on and a thin blanket. When you could, you looked around for anything that would aid you in your escape. However, the sheer small size of the room prevented you from being able to pilfer any of the equipment your “doctor” brought in with him. The camera was positioned to give a complete view of your cell. You were effectively fucked in the escape department, and as the days passed you grew more and more desperate. You tried asking about Jared a couple times, just to gauge on what you could expect when your week was up, but the uncomfortable looks that passed across the faces of those you interacted with only had a bigger pit of fear forming in your gut.

There was no escape from your cell, at least for the moment. The night you were finally cleared of your concussion, you couldn’t sleep. You feared what the morning would bring. When you finally did manage to pass out from sheer exhaustion, it wasn’t for very long before his voice rang back out over your speaker, accompanied by a few guards bursting into your cell and restraining you on your knees in the middle of the room again.

“Time’s up, my dear! I’m so glad you recovered okay; I was just terribly worried about you the whole week! I sure hope you thought about my request of you earlier. The information you have about the League would just be the cherry on top of the cake of seeing you healthy again.”

“Go fuck yourself.” You spat. Your body was gripped with fear, but like hell you would give up anything about your family, about your friends or the rest of the League.

“Ah but I was so hoping that you’d be grateful for everything I’ve done for you that you’d just give me the information. Oh well, I guess we have to do this the hard way then. Boys? No permanent damage.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, the four guards in the room with you moved in. They wasted no time in taking turns holding you down while one would rain down punches and kicks. As soon as one got his fill, it would switch to the next. Every time there would be a brief pause, as the man in the speaker asked you again for you to give up the information you had. Each time you found a new and more creative way to tell him to fuck off, and the cycle would continue. Time became a blur as the beatings continued. If you had to guess, by the time your body ached with every slight movement and the blood bubbling past your lips, it was hours at the least.

That was how they left you, on the cusp of what would constitute as permanent damage. That night you just lied there, the strength to move beaten out of you. You felt the tears pebble in the corners of your eyes as the night continued on, exhausted but in too much pain to drift into unconsciousness. You didn’t want to cry, least of all in front of him. You didn’t want to give him any satisfaction. Your tears didn’t fall that night, but they would before long.

Your days continued much in the same way as the first. The only inkling you had of time passing at all was the meals brought to your cell. Most days you barely had the strength left to drag yourself over to the tray slid under the door. Your body was supporting multiple dark bruises now, and quite possibly a multitude of fractures. Each day had brought new means of torture for you, increasing in intensity while still falling just short of that line. Occasionally you noticed the guards would be different after some time. As if reading your thoughts, you heard the boss’ voice over the loudspeaker. “Gotta switch them out every now and again! They get mean the more you make them do it. I can’t have them breaking you before you spill the beans after all!” You almost wanted them to cross it, anything to give you a reprieve from the hell you were subjected to. Each time he would ask you to give up what you knew, and you still refused. It was the only thing you had, and no matter what your personal issues was with your family, you would never betray them.

That night, as you lie there in the middle of your cell, cold, bruised, bloody, wet -they had decided to try out waterboarding earlier that day- you finally broke down in tears. Your mind kept replaying the looks of devastation on Dick’s face, on Wally’s. Sometimes your mind would slip in a few of your more pleasant memories of your childhood, back when your relationship with your brother was a lot better, when he seemed to care about you. You weren’t sure if those helped or if they only hurt you more.

You wondered if you were ever going to see them again. You wondered if you were going to break before then. Nothing in this place made much sense. The voice on the speaker, the boss -you had still never gotten a name- refused to take off your mask and costume. He wanted you to give the information as voluntarily as you could in your situation. At your darkest, you found yourself hoping that your family, your friends, your team, that everyone would be okay if you died in here.

You weren’t sure how many more days you spent in a haze of pain in that cell when you could just barely make out the sounds of commotion echoing through the halls. You forced your head up off the ground, looking up at the locked door as you tried to make sense of what was going on.

“Well, my dear. It looks like our time might just about be up for now.” The voice rang out over the static of the speaker. He sounded angry, dangerous under the thin layer of over-sweetness you had become used to hearing from him. You had a lot of questions, but you were in too much pain to put any voice to them for the moment. Thankfully, he continued on. “It looks like your little League buddies managed to find you after all.” You almost didn’t believe him, but the sounds were getting louder as they drew closer, you could distinctly make out the sounds of fighting through the solid metal of the door. Your immense rush of relief was abruptly cut short however, as he spoke once again. “But don’t you worry, my sweet. We aren’t done yet, I’ll come back for you when I can. There’s still so much I can learn from you, and you owe me from keeping those brutes from hurting you too bad.” With that, the speaker cut out for the final time. As it did so, gas started pouring in from the vents in the ceiling of your room. You tried to hold your breath, but your injuries prevented you from being able to hold out. Your vision quickly started fading in and out, and you finally lost consciousness as the door to your cell opened.

*****

When you woke up, it was to a room you were unfamiliar with. You moved to sit upright but your body screaming in agony halted your attempts before you could even begin. You took in your surroundings. You were currently in a bed, the sheets pulled up to about the middle of your chest. Admittedly you were rather comfortable despite the aches in every limb. The walls were a faded green, a TV sat on top of a dresser in a corner to your left. A vanity was next to that and a third dresser was on the opposite side of the room on your right next to a bookshelf. Pictures hung on the walls, but the room was too dim to make most of them out. They very easily could have just been framed paintings if you were being honest. The room smelled faintly of lavender and medical supplies, which caused you to suddenly look down at your body in alarm as the memories came flooding back to your mind. Your hand ripped back the blankets covering you, your mind reeling at the sight of the medical bandages covering your form and the dark bruising in between them. Most important, you weren’t in costume, and a quick brush of your fingers against your face confirmed that your mask was gone as well.

A groan of pain slipped past your lips from all the sudden movement, and on cue, the door to your right opened. Your eyes widened when you recognized Black Canary walking in, and you managed to relax with the knowledge, though you were still brimming with questions.

“I brought you some water. I won’t ask how you’re feeling. I can take a good enough guess by looking at you.” She pulled up a chair and helped you into a sitting position. It took a lot of effort, but you were thankful when you did, gulping the offered water down as your dry throat made itself known. Looking down at your right arm, you could see the portion of the IV called the “cannula” still taped to your body. You don’t know where the rest of the IV was.

“Where am I?” You managed to ask. You had to clear your throat several times before the words would come out.

“You’re currently in the guest room of my apartment.” You raised your eyebrow, and Canary took that as her chance to continue. “After you ran out when you woke up from the failsafe mission, the rest of the team gave their reports on what went wrong. It was determined amongst the League -except for your uncle- that until we could perform a formal investigation into your living conditions, you would be placed with one of us once we found you.”

“Why?”

“Emotional abuse and neglect is just as serious as physical. This was to make sure more harm wasn’t being done until we could determine if it was safe to keep you with your parents or to look for another option for you.” You didn’t really know what to say. Your mind was still reeling from your ordeal and now from the information Canary had given you.

“Thank you.” It just as lame to say as it sounded, but you couldn’t think of anything else. “How… how did you guys even find me?”

She sighed. “Robin. He dropped the emergency beacon, but the League didn’t arrive fast enough to save you before you were gone. He gave Batman all the information the two of you had gathered and then left with Robin to reprimand him for helping you this whole time and not coming to the League immediately after finding you.” She looked like she wanted to say more but shook her head.

Batman soon entered the room, causing you to tense in apprehension. He always did intimidate you a little, even more so now that you knew you were probably going to get in big trouble for acting how you did. “It’s good to see you awake, maybe you could answer some of the questions we have regarding your captors.” Canary gave him a glare, but he didn’t flinch, turning to her instead. “Dinah you know as well as I do that the sooner we catch the people responsible, the better. All of this is time sensitive.” She seemed unhappy but made no more move to stop him.

“You were pretty bad when we finally did get to you, but the doctor we had looking over you noticed there weren’t any breaks, would you mind explaining that if you could?”

“The people that had me, they wanted me to give up the information I had on all of you willingly. I guess making sure I wasn’t too seriously injured was part of that plan.”

“They wanted you to think you owed them the information. They treated you well at first, then made sure a line wasn’t crossed. They wanted to like them, or they wanted you to fear how bad they could get so you’d tell them what they wanted to know.” You just nodded at Batman’s explanation. It made perfect sense to you.

“Did you get the leader of the Brass Ravens?”

“No, but we did find writing on the wall of his office.”

“What did it say?”

“Quoth the Raven ‘Nevermore.’” Batman looked to you for an answer.

You sighed. “I asked him what his name was you know, early on. I guess he actually did give me an answer after all. ‘Nevermore.’”

He nodded. “I’ll put it in the file. For now, you’ll stay here with Canary. Until we can determine what your situation will be, all contact with your brother and family will be cut off so as not to potentially cause any more damage between both parties. Try to get some rest.” With that, he left. Dinah left shortly after, going into the kitchen to get you some food for you to eat after your stomach had growled loudly. Leslie Thompkins -the doctor the League trusted with their identities- would be back in the morning to do a check up now that you were awake.

Later that night, you found you couldn’t fall asleep. It wasn’t from the pain of your body, though that could have been a small factor. It was from the situation you had found yourself in. There was a chance that you would never see your family again, never have to deal with always being second in comparison to your brother. Once upon a time that had been your wish when you had found yourself at your lowest, but now that it was an actual possibility? Your heart felt conflicted. A part of you still loved your family, loved your brother despite all the things you had gone through. A part of you just wished that Wally was here right now to comfort you like he used to before he ever got his powers. You weren’t sure how you were supposed to feel in this moment.

There was a lot you needed to say, not just to Wally, but also to Dick. You needed to apologize to him, tell him that you hoped he could still forgive you after what you did. You hoped that things weren’t ruined between the two of you.

This time you’d tell him that you loved him, and not a death simulation, nor some gang would take that away from you.

#Dick Grayson #Robin #dick grayson x reader #robin x reader #Sidelined #Young Justice #Drabble #1.5k milestone #Angst #tw: violence #Dinah Lance #Black Canary #Batman #Bruce Wayne

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