#ellie calls it their hostage baby

[mariatesstruther]

HOW HAVE I NEVER SEEN THIS BEFORE WHAT WAIT

Gabriel Luna as Hector in ‘Gravy’ (2015)

[grimdarling69]

Another deaged Ellie and Dan, but Danny was reincarnated as Damian Wayne

Danny Damian because he was Damian now, wasn't he? He remembers now the Fentons, the GIW, Sam and Tucker, jazz. He wonders if they could have also followed him here. A part of him longs to see his fraid again, but are they his fraid still? He was a new person. Son of The Bat and Heir to the Demon Head. Something Dami he remembers reminding people of. If only Sam could see him now, he knows she'd love that. "Who's edgy now?" He can picture her saying. He can almost see Tucker laughing so hard he'd fall out of his seat.

Crack

The sharp sound of the thunder brings him to the present. He looked over at his clock, 3:00 A.M. The witching hour he can hear Ellie tell him with a mischievous smile on one of their flights around Amity Park. She loved to drag him and Dan sometimes Vlad if he was feeling friendly. Dan, his future evil self tormented by the deaths of all his family and friends, so hurt he got Vlad to rip his human half out so he didn't have to feel the pain. Ellie, his clone, created by Vlad to be the perfect son, too bad she was a daughter. Looking down at his stomach where their cores are now incubating, he couldn't help but wonder if Vlad had anything to do with this.

He shook his head as if that would rid himself of that thought. Vlad was a real fruitloop,but he would never purposefully endanger Dan or Ellie. Vlad, in his twisted and weird ways, did love them in his own ways like kidnapping and keeping him hostage to save Ellie. He had forgiven vlad for the desperate attempt to save his daughter, but incubating Ellie and Dan's cores would make him their father now, too. Ew, coparenting with Vlad does not sound like a fun time. He glanced down and lifted his shirt hesitantly. If he focused on his stomach, he could see a faint blue and red glow emanating from his stomach. Red, Vlads' color, he thought distantly. Hopefully, it didn't mean much. As if signaling him, the envelope they had carried with them to him fell off the bed carried to the floor by the slight breeze.

Lighting lumineating the bedroom, making the crisp white color shine for just a second. He tentatively reached down to grab it. He was being a baby. He was a trained assassin from birth, and his fear trained beaten out of him a long time ago. Some part of him whispered his father and Richard's teachings of being brave but not without fear.

He paused. Father would want to know everything. His past life, Ellie and Dan, the ghosts, being a halfa. He wouldn't understand, Richard would try to, but not even he could never really understand. He couldn't subject his babies to that. He couldn't live with the threat to being ripped apart molecule by molecule. His father's lack of emotional intelligence certainly would not help young halfas. He was fourteen again the age he was killed in his first life. The age he started facing ghosts from another dimension.

He started younger in this life. Killing younger, he learned to fight his whole life. Jazz would hate that. Jazz... he wondered if she was alright if she survived the attack... no, there's no time to think of that right now. He ripped open the envelope( like a band-aid, Richard would remind him), and he noticed Vlad's familiar fancy fruitloop writing immediately(he had fancy fruitloop writing now, instead of the chicken scratch Jazz chided him over). So he was right about one thing this had vlad all over it.

Dear Daniel,

Though I understand you might not be Daniel when this letter finds you. I have been reincarnated into another life as I believe you have as well. My new name is Alexander Luther. I own a corporation called Lexcorp. I unfortunately can not change the name according to my board. The idiot lot of them.

He snickered at that. His smile dropped immediately. Vlad was Lex Luthor, the archnemesis of Superman. Jon would most certainly not like this. He forced himself to read on before he spiraled further.

I regained my memories after an experiment went wrong. I know how original. My new incarnation was able to open a small portal that grew in size, and eventually, somehow Danielle and Dan fell through. The portal then exploded, and I regained my memories. Unfortunately, it destabilized their clone bodies. I couldn't grow working bodies in time, and eventually, I had to hope they could find you. I hoped somehow that the yeti doctor would have imparted some of his strange knowledge onto you that might save them.

Vlad, no Lex still wrong. Vlad was somewhat right about that. During one of his all things ghostly lessons from Frostbite, he told him of how in the old ages ghosts often incubated their ghostlings. A protective measure back when magic and spirits were more prevalent. He didn't really understand it back then, and he doesn't understand it much now, either. Apart from the fact he was doing it, he supposed. What if he did something wrong and he lost them? He doesn't think he could live out his half-life if he lost them again. He needed to get to Vlad, and quickly too so they could start building a new portal to the infinite realms.

If this letter finds you. Come find me immediately at these coordinates. I've gone deep underground to escape my new archnimesis's suoer senses. I've m started research on a new portal, but I'll need your endeneering skills. This world is severely lacking in ectoplasmic science and engineering. I am once again forced to start from scratch on my own. Once we get the portal open, you'll need to go straight to The Far Frozen.

It's as if he's reading my mind, I think jokingly.

P.s. One of my experiments may or not have regiven then my new DNA in an attempt to restabilize them.

Only Vlad.

Well, it looks like they actually were going to be coparenting after all. This was going to go great.

I sigh and lean my head back down on my pillow. He committed the cords to memory before lighting the letter on fire with the lighter he kept in his bedside drawer. Point to assassin training. Jason would be proud. He supposed he could stay for a month or so before leaving, which would give him enough time to get away or think of some kind of mission to give himself. He shoots up. Todd had died and came back. He was a revenant. He couldn't stick around if he were to visit he'd know something was wrong immediately even if he didn't understand it.

He sprung out of bed quickly, but quietly, his foot steps perfectly silent despite his rushed mood of packing a bag. He packed a few pairs of clothes and lots of hidden weapons, some snacks he kept hidden for that should keep him fed on his journey but leaving any sentimental things behind. He glanced longingly at his sketch pad, but Vlad was most likely under the water judging by the coordinates he was given. Who knows if it would survive.

He checked the pack, making sure he got all he needed. He promptly checked it again. Twice. After deeming it sufficient, he willed himself to open the door. He mentally cataloged everyone in the manor. Pennyworth was most likely still in Father's room, making sure he actually listened to his insructions. Richard and Todd in Bludhaven and Crime Alley, respectfully. Cain and Brown in Hong Kong. Thomas was sleeping after his dayshift.

Everyone accounted for except Drake. He was most likely using Pennyworth's attention on Father to work cases. He just had to take the risk. For his ghostlings, for himself, Vlad. He crept down the hallways. He was opening the grandfather clock in record time. He went slower this time. He would use his powers, but his father had supernatural wards of all kinds in the cave. Who knows what they did. He was also admittedly trying to save his little energy for his voyage on the open sea. Light snoring hit his ears as he peered around the corner.

Thank ancients.

Drake was sleeping at the batcomputer, still in his Red Robin suit sans mask surrounded by his poor choices. Empty coffee cups and files spread around. He would still need to be quiet, Drake was a light sleeper, as was everyone else in his family. He grabbed the keys to his bike quickly, sneaking by. If he wasn't ditching his bike at Gotham Bridge, he would have disabled his trackers. He checked the gas and made sure he could make it. That's when he made his first mistake.

Putting the gas jug back down, he accidently hit another of one of his siblings' tools to the floor. He tried catching it without success, but it fell anyway, the loud clang echoing. Mistake number two.

Shit.

"Huh? What's happening?" Drake arose sleepily rubbing his eyes.

He froze. Mistake number three.

"Damian? What are you doing down here?" His eyes landed on him, and he spoke confusedly with his voice heavy with sleep or lack thereof.

He panics. He's blaming the pregnancy hormones on this.

He runs.

"Damian!" Drake responded to his dead sprint with his own. "Stop!"

He reaches his bike, and he turns the keys and prays. Luckily, it comes to life. He fumbles with his helmet it would hide his tears he needed it. who knows if he'll ever get to see them again. He shoots off down the tunnel. Flicking the cave door open remotely.

Another bike rears to life behind him. "Damian wants going on?" Drakes voice echoes in his ears. He can almost taste the concern in it amplified by the helmet. He ignores it and accelerates. He ignores the returned acceleration behind him.

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

Tim has no clue what made Damian panic enough to run away. He quickly ran to his own bike while swearing. Damian is already gaining distance on him. After another attempt at getting Damian to calm down and talk, he calls the only person Damian would actually listen to.

He hopes Dick will forgive him for waking him at five o'clock in the morning on his day off.

[stylesispunk]

Silent strain | part vii

Outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

previous chapter | next chapter

Summary: Time passes by, but Joel's feelings and the promises he has made to you are still lingering.

w.c: 9,6k

warnings: angst, harassment, mention of being hostage, mentions of blood, fluff. no proofreading. oh, there's a time jump.

a/n: Hello! This is the third chapter in a row that I don't feel satisfied with. I hope you like it though. Thank you so much for all the love you have given me with this one and I want to tell you that the next chapter will be the last one. I have some ideas for new fics, so I hope to have the strength to write. Thank you so much again and remember that Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. Happy reading.💌

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

I would go mad if something happens to you.

Months pass and life cycle moves. You couldn't even get used to the idea of it. Since you were a little girl you could notice the tree's leaves changing into brown and blossoming months after.

Time went too slow when you were a kid, but it went too fast when the world descended into madness.

It passed fast when you lose your parents.

It passed fast when you lost your sister to a mad man who bit her.

And it passed too slow when you cried to sleep hoping to find someone and kill the loneliness that consumed you.

You wouldn't have imagined that there would be a man and a daughter that would change the scary ending of a woman navigating into a mad world.

Now with Rosie growing up, you could see that time didn't forget, it pauses.

Spring blossomed, the heat of summer came and autumn leaves started falling on the ground.

And Rosie was seven months, she had become a source of happiness for you and Joel. You had got used to the normalcy Jackson provided, completely detached form the reality back at the QZ. Here, you could breathe without constantly looking over your shoulder. The peace felt surreal, as if Jackson existed in a bubble untouched by the chaos outside its walls. You found a rhythm in the days: waking up to Rosie’s soft coos, the gentle mornings spent together with Joel as you adjusted to the family life, you’d both never thought possible. And then there was Ellie, who’d become your family too, her bond with Rosie growing stronger with every passing day. It was as though the world had given you a second chance, a life that felt safe, a life you could finally call your own.

 But still, some nights you had to get up from bed and comfort Ellie from the guilt she felt and not being the chance of saving the world, at not being able to give Rosie a better world as she had promised you before she left to that hospital.

In those quiet, midnight hours, you would find Ellie sitting by the window, looking out into the dark, her expression shadowed by a weight that hadn’t left her since her return.

She held Rosie close, as if this little piece of innocence could somehow soothe the burdens she carried. And every time, you would gently place a hand on her shoulder, grounding her back to the present.

“Ellie, you’ve given her everything she needs—a world where she can grow up safe, with people who love her,” you’d say, your voice soft but steady. “That’s more than most people get in this life. You saved her, Ellie. And you’re saving her every day.”

Ellie would nod, her fingers brushing over Rosie’s little hand, but the guilt lingered. You could see it in her eyes—the questions, the what-ifs. She’d murmur about the promise she’d made to you and herself, the weight of what she couldn’t change. And in these moments, you reminded her that she wasn’t alone.

Joel, too, had his own ways of comforting her. He would tell stories of the world before, of the simple joys he’d had with his own daughter, Sarah. Ellie listened closely, soaking in the memories and glimpses of a life she could only imagine. She became part of this family, tangled in the bond you and Joel shared with Rosie. Tommy and Maria had welcomed a baby boy, who become part of your little family too, creating a new sense of hope that replaced the endless need for answers.

As autumn deepened, the nights grew longer, but the warmth in your small home was a steady light. Together, you were all healing, not just from wounds of the past but from the burden of being the ones who had survived when so many hadn’t. You realized that the love you shared was a gift, one that filled in the cracks left by the world’s broken promises.

Jackson had given each of you something to hold on to: a chance to live, not just survive.

To be human and to have kindness all over again.

The arrival of a new doctor, a young woman named Lena, had shifted things in Jackson. She was efficient, kind, and carried herself with an air of calm that put people at ease. It wasn’t long before she’d settled into her new role, and everyone, even Paul, seemed to take a liking to her. You noticed the way his attention veered toward her whenever she was around. For the first time in months, you felt him loosen his grip on you—both literally and in the unwelcome ways he used to hover.

But the relief was short-lived. Though Paul was now distant, something lingered in the way he looked at you from across the square or when you were with Joel, his gaze sharp, bitter, as if he were wrestling with unspoken resentment. It sent a chill through you, the way he lingered just long enough to make you question his intentions. You’d catch his eyes on you while laughing with Joel or holding Rosie close, and despite the distance he kept, it was clear he hadn’t completely let go of the past.

“You’re safe,” Joel would say when he felt you tense under Paul’s gaze, his voice warm yet firm, as if willing you to believe it as fiercely as he did. “I won’t let him hurt you, not again. I promise.”

Over time, you tried to let Joel’s words settle the unease in your heart, and each day in Jackson was a step further from the shadows of the past. Rosie’s laughter filled the quiet corners of your home, and Ellie’s confidence slowly returned, bolstered by her new role in the community. The family you had all become created a protective circle, one that, despite the lingering fear, was beginning to feel like a fortress of your own making.

But in a lawless world, good things weren’t forever.

You were in the storage room, organizing some of the supplies for the community. It was a quiet day, and the rhythmic task of sorting and counting had put your mind at ease for a while. The door creaked behind you, and without turning around, you assumed it was Ellie coming in with Rosie, as she often did when Joel was out on patrol.

“Hey, you can leave Rosie’s blanket in the corner,” you called out casually, continuing to count the jars of preserves. When there was no response, you glanced over your shoulder. The door was closed, but you didn’t see Ellie or hear Rosie’s familiar babbling.

Your heart skipped a beat.

Slowly, you set down the jar in your hand and turned fully toward the door, a growing sense of unease building in your chest. You walked over to check the door, trying to calm the alarm bells ringing in your mind. But as your hand reached for the handle, the door wouldn’t budge.

It was locked.

A cold chill ran down your spine, and you turned quickly to face the room, dread pooling in your stomach. Standing by the shelves was Paul, his eyes fixed on you with an expression you couldn’t quite read—calm, yet unnerving.

“Paul,” you said, your voice low and controlled, though fear was rising inside you. “What are you doing here?”

He didn’t move, just stood there, blocking the only exit. “You’ve been avoiding me,” he said simply, his voice almost conversational, like you were discussing the weather.

You swallowed hard, trying to maintain your composure. “I’ve been busy,” you replied, stepping away from the door, putting distance between the two of you.

“I get that,” he said, taking a step forward, closing the gap. “But I think there’s something we need to talk about.”

“I don’t think there’s anything left to say, Paul,” you replied, your voice steady but your pulse racing. You tried to keep your movements calm, looking for a way out without escalating the situation.

Paul’s eyes darkened slightly. “You’ve always been different. I saw it the first time we met. You’re not like the others. Strong. Independent. And I was there when Joel wasn’t, remember? I took care of you.”

A wave of anger surged through you at his words. “Joel has always been there,” you said firmly, your voice sharpening. “And I don’t need anything from you.”

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, the calm mask he wore slipped. “I could’ve been good for you,” he muttered, his voice lowering, a bitter edge creeping in. “You should’ve given me a chance.”

The room felt smaller, the air thicker, and you felt your muscles tense, ready for anything. “Unlock the door, Paul,” you said, keeping your tone steady but firm, your heart hammering in your chest.

He stared at you for a moment longer, the silence stretching uncomfortably. Then, with a slight shake of his head, he finally moved toward the door, his hand resting on the lock. “I hope you think about what you’re throwing away,” he said, his voice cold now.

He unlocked the door, but didn’t open it. Instead, he stood there, watching you, as if waiting for you to say something. You didn’t. You just stared back at him, your resolve unwavering, until he finally opened the door and stepped out, leaving you alone in the room.

As soon as the door clicked shut, you let out a shaky breath, your legs feeling weak beneath you.

You stood there for a moment, letting the reality of what had just happened settle in. Your hands trembled slightly as you grabbed the supplies you’d been working on, trying to focus on anything to calm yourself down. But the fear and anger that Paul had stirred inside you wouldn’t leave. You had to get out of that room, out of the suffocating memory of his presence.

Leaving the supplies behind, you walked out of the storage room, making your way toward home. Every step felt heavier as your mind raced. You knew Joel had to know what had just happened, but you dreaded telling him. You could already imagine the storm that would follow—the fury in Joel’s eyes, his protective instincts kicking in. He wouldn’t take this lightly, and you didn’t want anything to happen that would make the situation even worse.

But Paul had crossed a line. He’d locked you in that room, he’d tried to manipulate you, and that was something you couldn’t let slide.

When you finally reached the house, your heart was pounding. The house felt empty without Joel or Ellie there. Rosie’s toys were scattered across the floor, a few baby blankets draped over the couch, and it brought you some comfort knowing that your daughter was safe, likely with Ellie or Maria.

You sat down for a moment, running your hands through your hair, trying to gather your thoughts. You couldn’t avoid this any longer.

Just as you were about to get up, the front door creaked open, and Joel stepped inside, his face tired from a long day of patrol. He paused when he saw you sitting on the couch, his brows furrowing with concern as he sensed something was off.

“Hey,” he said softly, coming over to you. “You okay?”

You forced a small smile, nodding, though you felt like every nerve in your body was screaming the truth. Joel’s eyes narrowed as he took you in, sensing something was off despite your best efforts to hide it. He sat down beside you, reaching out and gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his thumb grazing your cheek in a way that made your guard falter.

“You don’t have to lie to me, you know,” he murmured, his voice low and reassuring. “I can see it plain as day when something’s eating at you.”

A sigh escaped you, and you looked down, unable to meet his gaze. “It’s... it’s just been a long day. The supplies inventory went a little longer than usual.” You winced at your own excuse, but the last thing you wanted was to burden him with this, not after everything he had already carried for you. And yet, the memory of Paul’s face as he’d locked that door lingered, filling you with an unease you couldn’t shake.

Joel’s hand found yours, giving it a gentle squeeze, and you finally looked up to find his gaze fixed on you with that fierce, unwavering look that said he’d stand by you through anything. You could almost feel his determination, his need to protect. And you knew, deep down, that keeping this from him would only make things worse.

“Are you usure?” he asked, his soft brown eyes looking deep into your eyes.

“I’m sure,” you replied, forcing another smile that felt brittle on your lips. You could see the uncertainty lingering in his eyes, but you desperately wanted to believe your own words, to convince both him and yourself that everything was fine.

But as you spoke, the truth gnawed at you. You could feel the tension in the air, the unspoken worry hanging like a cloud between you. You could sense Joel's instincts kicking in, the way he was calculating every detail, every change in your expression.

“Okay,” he said slowly, though the skepticism in his tone was evident. “But if something’s bothering you, you know you can tell me. You don’t have to shoulder it alone.”

You nodded again, though the weight on your chest remained heavy. You wished you could share everything with him—the fear, the anger, the vulnerability—but you were afraid of what that might bring. Afraid of how he would react if he knew just how deep your scars ran.

Joel shifted closer, his presence radiating warmth and comfort. “Let’s go check on Rosie,” he suggested, a gentle smile breaking through his concern. “I think she might be waking up from her nap.”

You smiled up at him, a playful glint in your eye. “Oh no. Ellie stole Rosie. She took her on a walk.” You leaned your head against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath you. It was a comforting sound, grounding you in the moment.

Joel chuckled softly, shaking his head. “That girl’s gonna spoil her rotten,” he said, the worry in his voice easing just a bit as he relaxed into the light-hearted banter. “C’mon, let’s go rescue our baby from her.”

As you stepped outside, the crisp air greeted you, the autumn leaves swirling around in a golden dance. You spotted Ellie at the end of the street, her silhouette bouncing with Rosie strapped to her chest in a baby carrier.

“Look at that!” you said, nudging Joel playfully. “She’s got her all to herself.”

As you approached, Ellie turned to greet you, her grin wide. “Hey! We were just enjoying the fresh air. Rosie loves it out here!”

Joel’s brows furrowed slightly, a mix of concern and annoyance crossing his features. “You sure she’s okay out here?” he asked, eyeing the carrier with a protective gaze.

“Relax, old man,” Ellie teased, rolling her eyes but clearly enjoying the banter. “I’ve got this.”

You watched the exchange with a smile, appreciating the bond forming between them. It was a light-hearted moment that filled you with warmth, but even as you laughed and chatted with them, a flicker of unease nagged at you.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that Paul was still lingering in the background, like a storm cloud waiting to burst. But for now, in the safety of this moment with Joel and Rosie, you pushed those thoughts aside, choosing to savor the laughter and the love that surrounded you.

“Alright, let’s head back home,” you suggested, hoping to steer the conversation away from any looming threats. “I think Rosie could use a snack before her next nap.”

“Good idea,” Joel said, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you all started to walk back. At that moment, surrounded by the people you loved, you felt a fleeting sense of safety, a reminder that there were still beautiful moments to hold onto amidst the chaos of life.

The soft light of dawn filtered through the curtains, casting gentle shadows across the room. Joel lay in bed, propped up on one elbow, watching you sleep. Your face was relaxed, peaceful in the way only sleep could allow, and he couldn’t help but smile at the sight. It had been a long time since he’d felt this kind of contentment—where the world outside faded away, leaving only the warmth of those he loved most.

He shifted slightly, careful not to wake you, and glanced over at Rosie’s crib, where their daughter slept soundly, a little bundle of joy. The way she curled up, her tiny fingers reaching out as if searching for comfort, tugged at his heart. It was a reminder of everything they had fought for, everything that had led them to this moment of relative peace.

But as he watched you, he also felt the weight of the past pressing down on him. As the sun continued to rise, casting a golden hue in the room, Joel felt an overwhelming urge to protect you both, to shield you from any harm that could come your way. He wanted to be the kind of man who could ensure you felt safe, cherished, and loved—every single day.

He gently reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, his fingers lingering for a moment as he admired the way the morning light danced across your features. It was a simple act, but it filled him with warmth, a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, they could create a life free of fear.

Just as he was about to lean in closer, Rosie stirred in her crib, letting out a soft coo. Joel’s gaze snapped to her, and a smile spread across his face. He glanced back at you, still lost in sleep, and quietly slipped out of bed, trying not to disturb you.

He made his way to Rosie’s crib, lifting her gently into his arms. She let out a sleepy yawn, her eyes fluttering open, and he chuckled softly. “Good morning, little girl,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

As he cradled Rosie, he couldn’t shake the feeling that today would be different. There was a strange feeling tugging his heart.

He wanted to talk to you, to reassure you that no matter what had happened, he was there for you, and he wouldn’t let anyone take that away.

He carried Rosie into the kitchen, starting to prepare breakfast, humming softly to her as he moved about the space. The smell of coffee brewing filled the air, mixing with the scent of warm pancakes. He couldn’t wait for you to wake up and share the morning with him and Rosie, creating memories that would last a lifetime.

After a few moments, he heard the soft sound of footsteps approaching. He turned, and there you were, stretching as you entered the kitchen, a sleepy smile gracing your lips. The sight of you made his heart race; you looked beautiful even in the early morning light.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” he said, trying to sound casual, but the warmth in his tone betrayed the excitement he felt at seeing you.

“Morning,” you replied, your voice still thick with sleep. You glanced at Rosie in his arms, your eyes lighting up. “What’s going on over here?”

“Just making breakfast,” he said, moving closer so you could take Rosie from him.

You took Rosie, your face lighting up as she cooed in response. “You’re the best,” you said, planting a soft kiss on Rosie’s forehead.

Joel couldn’t help but grin, watching the two of you together. It was moments like this that reminded him of why he had fought so hard to protect you both. He wanted to create a life filled with love and happiness, a life where fear didn’t overshadow everything else.

As you moved to the kitchen table, settling Rosie in her high chair, he couldn’t shake the feeling that had settled on his heart.

After breakfast, the mood was light, laughter bubbling up between you and Joel as you tidied up the kitchen. But the reality of the day weighed heavily on Joel's shoulders as he checked the time. It was time for him to head out on patrol.

“Hey,” he said, brushing his fingers against your arm as he stepped closer. “You sure you’re okay with me leaving?” His brow furrowed slightly, a hint of concern lingering in his eyes.

You nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Just spending some time with Maria and Rosie today.” The reassurance seemed to ease some of the tension in his features.

“Alright.” He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, a gesture that continued giving you butterflies inside your stomach.

With one last look at you and Rosie, Joel grabbed his gear and headed for the door, his footsteps echoing softly in the quiet house. You watched him leave, a mixture of pride and concern washing over you. You knew he had a duty to protect Jackson, but every time he walked out that door, your heart clenched a little tighter.

Once he was gone, you turned to Rosie, who was babbling happily in her high chair, her small hands reaching for the toys scattered around her. You couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm; it was infectious.

“Looks like it’s just you and me today, kiddo,” you said, scooping her up and placing her on your hip. “Let’s go see Maria. She’ll love to see you.”

As you walked out the door, the crisp autumn air greeted you, and the vibrant colors of the leaves seemed to dance around you. The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden glow over Jackson, and for a moment, everything felt perfect.

You strolled through the streets, greeting familiar faces as you made your way to Maria’s house. It felt good to be part of a community, to know that you were surrounded by people who cared about each other.

When you finally arrived, Maria was outside, tending to her garden. She looked up and smiled warmly at the sight of you and Rosie. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite little girl!” she exclaimed, kneeling down to meet Rosie’s curious gaze.

“Hi, Maria!” you greeted, handing Rosie over so she could be cuddled in Maria’s arms.

“Come to brighten my day, have you?” Maria teased, cradling Rosie gently. “What are you two up to today?”

“Just thought we’d hang out, maybe help you with some chores around here,” you replied, the mention of chores bringing a smile to Maria’s face.

“That sounds perfect! I could use an extra set of hands.” She looked at you knowingly, her expression softening. “And it’ll be nice to catch up.”

As you entered the house, the familiar scent of freshly baked bread wafted through the air, making your stomach rumble. Maria always had a way of making her home feel inviting and warm, just like her personality.

While Maria prepared some snacks, you settled onto the couch with Rosie, who was busy reaching for the various toys scattered around. “You’ve been so brave lately,” you murmured to her, feeling the weight of your own fears lift slightly in the comforting presence of Maria and Rosie.

“Paul threatened me yesterday” you confessed.

Maria paused her movements, “Joel went after him, didn’t he?” she asked after a long pause, her voice cautious.

You shook your head, feeling a mix of emotions rise in your chest. “He threatened me, Maria. He’s been hanging around, and I don’t feel safe anymore.”

Maria sighed, her expression conflicted. “I’m not defending Paul, believe me. What he did was wrong. But there’s something you need to know about him, about why he is the way he is.”

You looked up at her, surprised by the weight of her words. “What do you mean?”

Maria took a deep breath and walked over to the table, sitting down across from you. “Paul wasn’t always like this. When he first came to Jackson, he was different, quiet, kind, a good doctor. He’d just lost his wife and daughter in the outbreak, and I think that broke something in him. He’s been carrying that grief for years, and I think it’s twisted him into someone he wasn’t meant to be.”

You frowned, trying to reconcile the man Maria was describing with the one who had threatened you. “That doesn’t excuse what he did,” you said softly, more to yourself than to her.

“No, it doesn’t,” Maria agreed. “But it explains it. Paul never got help. He never really let himself heal. And now, he’s become this… person who tries to control everything because he couldn’t save the ones he loved. He’s stuck in that grief, and it’s poisoning everything around him.”

You sat in silence for a moment, letting her words sink in. It didn’t make you feel any better about what had happened, but it gave you a new perspective. Paul wasn’t just a man who had tried to manipulate and threaten you, he was a broken person, consumed by his own loss.

"I lost my family too," you murmured, your voice quiet but filled with a deep ache. "Joel lost his daughter." You felt the familiar sting of grief rise up in your chest. "He hasn’t done—" You paused, the weight of what you knew about Joel, the secrets he carried, pulling at you.

Maria looked at you, her expression soft but knowing. “It’s different for everyone,” she said gently, sensing the unfinished sentence. “Grief changes people in ways we can’t always predict. Some people shut down, some lash out… and some do things they never thought they’d be capable of.”

You swallowed hard, nodding but not trusting yourself to speak. Joel had done things—things that no one else knew, things that weighed heavily on him. And you had promised to carry those secrets with him, even if they still haunted you both.

“But what happened to Paul is not your burden to carry,” Maria added, her voice firm. “You’ve been through enough. You and Joel have your family to think about now, and Paul can’t be a part of that. I’ll talk to Tommy; we’ll make sure Paul knows he can’t come near you again.”

You nodded slowly, grateful for her understanding but still feeling uneasy. “I just want to feel safe, Maria. After everything… I just want to protect my family.”

Maria reached across the table and squeezed your hand. “You will. We’ll make sure of it.”

You gave her a small, grateful smile, feeling a little lighter knowing that Maria was on your side. But as you sat there, sipping your tea and listening to the quiet sounds of Jackson waking up outside, you couldn’t shake the feeling that things with Paul weren’t over. His pain, his brokenness—it wasn’t something that could be easily fixed or swept away. And while you didn’t want to live in fear, you couldn’t deny the sense of unease that lingered in the back of your mind.

Later that evening, the sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. You found yourself drawn to the bar in Jackson. Ellie was with Rosie at Dina’s place, assuring you she would take care of her while you could be yourself for a bit.

As you entered, the familiar sounds of laughter and chatter filled the air. You scanned the room, spotting a few friends from the community. The atmosphere was warm, and you tried to let the energy wash over you, but the nagging unease about Paul lingered in the back of your mind.

You made your way to the bar, ordering a drink and chatting with the bartender for a moment. But as you turned to survey the crowd, your heart dropped. Paul was there, leaning against the far wall, a half-empty glass in his hand. He hadn’t seen you yet, but you could feel the tension in the air thicken.

You considered your options: you could leave, slip out the door before he noticed you, or you could stay and confront the fear that had been growing ever since your last encounter.

You took a deep breath, your pulse quickening as you weighed the choice. Deciding to stand your ground, you turned back to your drink, attempting to appear calm while keeping your gaze from drifting back in Paul’s direction.

A few moments later, you felt a presence beside you. “Mind if I join you?” Paul’s voice cut through the noise, smooth but laced with an undercurrent of something darker.

You forced yourself to look at him, masking your discomfort with a polite smile. “Actually, I was just leaving,” you replied, your voice steady despite the anxiety bubbling inside.

He chuckled softly, a hint of arrogance in his demeanor. “You don’t have to be like that. I’m not here to cause trouble.” His eyes locked onto yours, searching, probing.

You crossed your arms defensively, unwilling to let him in. “Is that so? Because it feels like you have a knack for trouble.”

He leaned in closer, his voice low and conspiratorial. “You don’t understand, do you? I know what you and Joel have been through. I can help you.”

A wave of anger surged through you, pushing you to your feet. “Help? By locking me in a room? By manipulating me?” You couldn’t keep the sharpness from your tone.

Paul’s smile faltered, and for a brief moment, you saw a flash of something, frustration, maybe even desperation “Actually I wanted to say sorry for that” he said.

You straightened, your heart racing as you felt a protective instinct for Joel kick in. “I don’t believe you.”

His expression darkened, and for a moment, you felt a chill creep down your spine. “You don’t know what I’m capable of,” he said, his tone shifting dangerously low.

Before you could respond, a figure appeared behind you. It was Joel, his presence commanding and protective. He caught your eye, a silent question passing between you.

“Everything okay here?” Joel asked, his gaze flickering to Paul, the tension in the air suddenly palpable.

“Just having a friendly chat,” Paul replied, his tone too casual. But you could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his demeanor shifted as Joel approached.

Joel stepped closer, his eyes narrowing. “I don’t think you should be talking to her at all.”

You felt a mix of relief and fear wash over you, knowing that Paul was the last person you wanted to deal with while Joel was around. But you also saw the challenge in Paul’s gaze, a flicker of anger igniting in him.

“I was just leaving,” Paul said, his voice tight. “But I’ll be watching, you know.” He winked at you before pushing away from the wall, heading toward the exit.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, grateful for Joel’s presence but still shaken. “Are you okay?” Joel asked, his hand finding yours, grounding you in the moment.

“Yeah,” you replied, squeezing his hand tightly.

“I’ve got your back.” Joel reassured.

Later, some nights after that night, you found yourself wrapped in the warmth of your bed. The familiar scent of Joel lingered in the sheets, soothing your racing thoughts.

Joel lay beside you, his gaze fixed on the ceiling as he traced shapes in the air with his fingers, a contemplative look on his face. After a moment, he turned to you, propping himself up on one elbow. “You sure you’re okay?” he asked, concern etched in his brow.

You met his gaze, trying to smile. “I am now. Just… a lot on my mind.”

He nodded, his expression softening. “I get it. I don’t like that guy lurking around. But you don’t have to worry about him; he’s all talk.”

You swallowed, grateful for his reassurance but still unsettled. “I know. It’s just… I don’t want him to mess with our life here. I’m finally feeling like I belong.”

Joel’s face softened at that, and he reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “You belong here, with me and Rosie and Ellie. No one can take that from us.”

The warmth of his words washed over you, and you nodded, feeling a wave of comfort. “What about tomorrow? What are you thinking?”

Joel smiled, a glint of excitement in his eyes. “I was thinking about finding a guitar for Ellie. I promised I’d teach her a few songs, and she’s been talking about it nonstop.”

Your heart swelled at the thought of Ellie learning to play. “That sounds perfect. She’ll love that.”

“Yeah,” Joel said, a hint of a grin creeping onto his lips. “I was hoping you’d join me. It’d be nice to have you there, and I could use your eye for spotting a good guitar.”

The idea brightened your mood, and you found yourself nodding eagerly. “I’d love to. It’ll be fun to spend time with you outside.”

“Good,” he replied, a sense of relief washing over his features.

“But what about Rosie?” you inquired.

“I already talked to Tommy, Maria is helping at watching her, so don’t worry, mama” he said, caressing your arm.

You shifted closer to him, resting your head on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The warmth of his body enveloped you, and for a moment, the weight of the world outside melted away.

“Joel?” you murmured, looking up at him.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. For everything. For keeping me safe and for being here.”

His expression turned serious, and he placed a hand on your back, pulling you closer. “I’d do it all over again if it means keeping you and Rosie safe. You’re my world.”

You smiled, feeling a wave of affection wash over you. “And you’re mine.”

“I’ll go mad if something happens to you” he said.

The next morning, the sun broke through the clouds, casting a warm glow over Jackson. You and Joel stepped outside, the crisp autumn air filling your lungs with each breath. The vibrant leaves crunched beneath your feet as you walked, the colors painting the landscape in hues of orange and gold. It felt like a perfect day for an adventure.

Joel’s hand found yours as you strolled along the familiar path, his touch grounding you in the moment. “You ready for this?” he asked, a hint of excitement lacing his voice.

“Absolutely,” you replied, your spirits lifted by the beauty of the day and his presence by your side. “I can’t wait to see Ellie’s face when she gets that guitar.”

“Me neither. Just hope we find a good one,” he said, glancing sideways at you with a grin.

As you walked, you chatted about everything and nothing, the conversation flowing easily. It was moments like these that made you realize how far you had come from the chaos of your past. The threat of the outside world felt distant, and for a while, you could just be.

“Look at that view,” you said, stopping to take in the sprawling landscape before you. The mountains stood majestically in the distance, their peaks dusted with early signs of winter.

“Yeah, it’s beautiful,” Joel agreed, his eyes scanning the horizon.

You stepped into the shop, the door creaking ominously behind you. The interior was dim, lit only by the flickering light of the rays of sunshine. Dust danced in the air, swirling around forgotten instruments that lined the walls, remnants of a world that once thrived.

Joel moved cautiously, his eyes scanning the shop for any signs of danger. “Keep your head on a swivel,” he murmured, his voice low but steady.

You nodded, feeling a familiar knot of tension in your stomach. Every sound seemed amplified in the stillness of the shop. You stayed close to Joel, your heart racing as you navigated through the narrow aisles filled with instruments. You couldn’t shake the feeling that danger lurked just beyond the walls.

Joel picked up a guitar from a nearby rack, strumming a few notes. The sound was rich and resonant, a stark contrast to the silence that enveloped the town outside. “This one sound good,” he said, a flicker of excitement breaking through his serious demeanor.

“Perfect for Ellie,” you replied, forcing a smile. The tension still hung in the air, but you wanted to enjoy this moment, to reclaim a sliver of normalcy even in a world turned upside down.

As Joel inspected the guitar, you glanced out the grimy window, your heart tightening at the sight of the empty street. Jackson felt safe, but you couldn’t shake the memories of the horrors you had all faced. The ever-looming threat of raiders or infected was never far from your mind, even in the moments of calm.

“Let’s hurry,” you urged, a sense of urgency creeping in. “I don’t like being out in the open for too long.”

Joel nodded, placing the guitar back on its stand. “You’re right. Let’s see if there’s anything else we can grab before heading out.”

You moved deeper into the shop, scanning the shelves for any useful supplies. A few picks and a worn-out tuner caught your eye, and you quickly grabbed them. Just then, a faint rustle echoed from the back room.

Joel stiffened, his hand instinctively reaching for the knife tucked into his belt. “Stay close,” he said, his voice low and serious.

You felt your heart race as you moved beside him, every instinct screaming to prepare for the worst. The rustling grew louder, and Joel nodded toward the back room, signaling for you to stay put as he crept toward the sound.

As he approached, the rustling stopped. You held your breath, every muscle tense as you watched him disappear into the shadows. Moments felt like hours as you waited, fear coursing through you.

“Joel?” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Then, you heard it—a muffled sound, a faint cry. Panic surged within you. “Joel!” you called again, urgency propelling you forward.

Joel emerged from the shadows of the back room, his expression a mixture of relief and caution. “It’s just a cat,” he said, his voice steady, though you could see the tension in his shoulders. He stepped aside to reveal a small, scruffy tabby, its green eyes blinking in the dim light.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, grateful for the distraction but still shaken. “Just a cat?” you said, half-laughing, half-sighing. “I thought it was something serious.”

“Don’t let it fool ya,” Joel replied, kneeling down to scratch behind the cat’s ears. “Even the little ones can bite.”

You smiled at his comment, but the nagging feeling in your chest remained. Something felt off. It had been too quiet out there, and you couldn’t shake the sensation that trouble was lurking just beyond the walls of your temporary safety.

After gathering a few supplies, you felt the weight of worry settling heavily on your shoulders. You couldn’t focus on the task at hand; your thoughts kept drifting back to Rosie.

“Joel,” you murmured, glancing back toward the entrance, “we need to hurry. I have a bad feeling about Rosie.”

He looked at you, concern etched across his features. “You think something’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, biting your lip. “But I can’t shake this feeling. It’s like something is off.”

Joel nodded, his expression turning serious. “Alright, let’s finish up here and head back. We’ll check on her.”

As you left the shop, the sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the deserted streets. The eerie silence wrapped around you like a thick fog, making every step feel more precarious than the last.

Once you reached your home, the sense of unease deepened. You pushed the door open, calling out, “Rosie! Ellie!” Silence filled the room, and your stomach dropped.

“Where are they?” you whispered, panic creeping in.

Joel’s face tightened as he moved through the house, checking rooms with quick precision. “They might be outside,” he suggested, though you could see the concern in his eyes mirrored your own.

You rushed to the backyard, calling out for Ellie and Rosie, but only the rustling of leaves answered. The sun was dipping lower in the sky, shadows stretching long across the ground. The peaceful atmosphere of Jackson suddenly felt ominous.

“Joel!” you shouted, your voice cracking with fear. “What if something happened? What if Paul—”

As you approached Maria’s home, your steps quickened, a feeling of unease settling deep in your stomach. Joel, sensing it too, sped up beside you, his hand brushing your arm to reassure you.

You knocked once, then twice, before pushing the door open, calling out, “Maria?” But there was no response. Just silence.

Your heart pounded as you moved quickly through the house, each room emptier than the last, until you reached the back room. There was Maria, alone, her face pale and her hands clenched in a fist.

“Maria, where’s Rosie?” Joel asked, his voice tight, barely masking his growing fear.

Maria looked up, guilt and sorrow written across her face. “I... I put her down for a nap, and I just stepped out to check on something in the kitchen. I swear, I was only gone for a minute, but when I came back...” Her voice faltered, breaking as she looked away. “She was gone.”

A cold wave of fear washed over you as you stumbled back, your mind racing with questions, each more terrifying than the last. Joel’s face had gone pale, his hands clenched as he took a step forward.

"Who saw her? Did anyone see anything?" Joel's voice was barely controlled, but Maria shook her head.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. “I... I never thought—”

Without another word, Joel turned and stormed out of the house, and you followed him, your own heart pounding with panic as you raced into the street. People began to gather, sensing something was wrong, whispers passing between them.

"Paul," Joel muttered, his jaw clenched with such intensity that you could see the tension rippling through his shoulders.

A knot twisted in your stomach as his words sank in. You hadn’t seen Paul in days, and the thought that he could have taken Rosie filled you with a terror so deep it was paralyzing. But Joel’s fierce determination grounded you, his hand reaching out to squeeze yours tightly, his gaze steely as he looked at you.

“We’re getting her back,” he said, voice low and unshakable. "No matter what it takes."

“No,” you said firmly, meeting Joel’s intense gaze. “I’m going to get her back.”

He shook his head, looking as though he was about to argue, but you placed a hand on his chest, your expression resolute.

“I know Paul. He’s obsessed with me, Joel. If he sees you coming, he’ll… he might hurt her just to get to me. But if I go, I can talk to him, convince him.” Your voice was steady, stronger than you felt, but deep down, you knew this was the only way. “He wants me to come to him. Let me do this.”

Joel’s jaw clenched as he searched your face, the raw desperation in his eyes mirroring your own. “I can’t let you go in there alone,” he said, voice breaking slightly. “I can’t lose you too.”

“You won’t,” you whispered, holding his gaze. “I promise, you won’t.”

After a long, agonizing moment, he nodded, albeit reluctantly. “Alright,” he said, his voice rough, strained. “But I’ll be right behind you. I’ll keep my distance, but I’ll be close, watching, ready.”

You nodded, relief and fear warring within you as you squeezed his hand. “I know you will.”

With one last look, you turned and headed toward the edge of Jackson, your heart hammering as you moved toward the place you suspected Paul might be hiding. You could feel Joel’s presence following you at a careful distance, his silent promise of backup giving you the strength to take each step forward.

As you reached the secluded area outside the town, you spotted an old cabin tucked within the trees. It looked run-down, barely visible from the path, but a faint light flickered through the window—a sign of life.

Taking a deep breath, you approached the door, keeping your composure steady even as every instinct screamed at you to run. You knocked, and a shuffling sound came from inside. Then, the door creaked open, and there he was—Paul, his eyes lighting up with a twisted sense of satisfaction as he saw you.

“I knew you’d come,” he said, his tone smug and expectant, his gaze flickering with a manic gleam. “I knew you’d understand… that you’d finally come to your senses.”

“Where’s my daughter, Paul?” You kept your voice calm, unwavering, as you held his gaze.

He hesitated, his face twisting with something dark. “She’s fine. I wouldn’t hurt her. I wouldn’t hurt something… something that’s part of you.” He stepped back, motioning for you to come inside. “She’s in here, waiting for her mother.”

You steeled yourself and stepped inside, eyes scanning the dim room until you spotted Rosie in the corner, bundled in blankets, asleep but unharmed. Relief flooded through you, but you kept your expression controlled, knowing that any sudden reaction could set Paul off.

“Paul,” you began, keeping your tone soft, as non-threatening as possible. “You don’t have to do this. We can go back to Jackson. I’ll come with you. Just let me hold my daughter first.”

He looked at you, suspicion flickering in his eyes, but he nodded slowly. As you approached Rosie, every muscle in your body tensed, ready to grab her and make your escape.

Just as you picked her up, Rosie stirred, and her eyes fluttered open, her tiny face relaxing as she saw you. You held her close, your heart pounding with both relief and terror as you turned back to Paul.

Paul watched you, his eyes hollow and haunted, but behind that darkness was something else—a hint of pain, sorrow. His gaze lingered on Rosie, softening just a little, but it returned to you with a fierce, unsettling intensity.

“You remind me of her, you know?” he began, his voice low, almost a murmur. “My wife. She was… strong, like you. Determined.”

You held his gaze, wary but silent, waiting to see where he was going with this. He continued, his eyes distant, as if he were seeing something from a lifetime ago.

“I lost them both. My wife, my daughter—they were everything. We were together, out there in the wilderness, surviving. I thought… I thought we’d be safe. But one day, it was just me.” He paused, his face twisting as he choked back something raw. “Just me. I couldn’t save them.”

Your heart twisted with a twinge of pity, the sorrow in his words tugging at you, but you kept your guard up, knowing how quickly his demeanor could shift.

“You—you and Rosie,” he said, his voice cracking. “It felt like fate when I saw you that day. Like I’d been given a second chance to protect someone.” He took a step closer, and you tightened your grip on Rosie, keeping her secure.

“Paul… I understand that pain,” you said softly, hoping to reach the part of him that was still rational. “But I’m not her. And Rosie… she’s Joel’s daughter. We have our own lives.”

He looked at you, his expression darkening with a flash of anger. “But he can’t protect you like I can. He doesn’t know what it’s like to lose everything like I do. You should be with someone who understands—who would do anything to keep you safe.”

You took a steadying breath, meeting his gaze. “Joel knows that pain too. He lost his own daughter… and he’s done nothing but protect us, even from things like this. I’m sorry, Paul. I know you’re hurting. But you have to let go.”

He shook his head, the bitterness etched into his face as he clenched his fists. “You don’t get it. You were supposed to be my second chance.”

Just then, movement outside the window caught your eye, and you realized Joel was close, watching, ready to act. You turned back to Paul, feeling a surge of courage as you took a small step forward.

Paul’s face twisted with rage as he realized what was happening, his hand darting toward his belt, where a knife glinted in the dim light. But before he could make a move, Joel burst through the door, his presence a wall of fury and determination.

As soon as Paul saw Joel approaching, something in him snapped. His face twisted with desperation and anger, and in one quick, impulsive move, he shoved you out of the way. You stumbled back, caught off-guard, and before you could steady yourself, your head struck the corner of a table with a sickening thud. The world around you spun, and then everything went dark.

Joel’s heart dropped as he watched you collapse, unconscious, with Rosie still in your arms. A flash of fury crossed his face as he looked back at Paul, whose regret flickered only for a brief moment before being replaced by fear. Without hesitation, Joel moved forward, carefully scooping you and Rosie up into his arms, his eyes never leaving Paul.

“You’ve done enough,” he growled, his voice tight with barely restrained rage. “Stay away from my family.”

With that, Joel lunged at Paul

Joel's fist connected with Paul's jaw, the force of the punch sending him sprawling to the ground. Paul grunted in pain, his eyes wide with shock and anger, but Joel didn’t give him a chance to recover. He was on him in an instant, kneeling beside him with fury blazing in his eyes.

“Stay the hell away from her,” Joel hissed, his voice a low growl. He grabbed Paul by the collar, ready to land another blow, but Tommy’s voice cut through the haze of rage.

“Joel! Wait!” Tommy shouted as he stepped into the room, his hands raised in a placating gesture. “We need to handle this differently!”

Joel’s breathing was heavy, the adrenaline coursing through him. He looked back at Paul, who was scrambling to his feet, but then he turned his focus to you.

He dropped to his knees beside you, cradling you and Rosie in his arms. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he murmured, trying to soothe Rosie, who was wailing. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you both.”

Rosie’s little hands clutched at your clothes, her eyes filled with tears as she looked up at Joel, searching for comfort. The sight of you unconscious, the blood trickling from your temple, sent a fresh wave of panic through him.

“Stay with me, sweetheart,” he urged, gently shaking your shoulder. “Please, just open your eyes.”

“Joel,” Tommy said, kneeling beside you, his expression serious. “We need to get her to Maria. She can help.”

Joel nodded, his jaw clenched. “Right.” He carefully lifted you into his arms, cradling you against his chest, your head resting against his shoulder. He felt the warmth of your blood seeping through your clothes, and it made his stomach churn.

“Rosie, come on,” Joel said softly, glancing at his daughter, who was still sniffling. “We’re going to take care of Mommy, okay? You’re going to be okay.”

“I’m right here,” Joel whispered, holding you tighter, feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders. He started moving toward the exit, Tommy leading the way to ensure they could get through the chaos of the bar.

As they stepped outside, the sunlight hit Joel's face, the brightness contrasting sharply with the darkness of the situation. The street was alive with the hustle of Jackson, but in that moment, all he could focus on was you and Rosie.

“Tommy, get help!” Joel commanded, his voice low and urgent. He could feel the tension coiling within him, a mix of anger at Paul and fear for your well-being.

Tommy nodded, sprinting off toward the clinic. Joel turned his attention back to you, feeling your body against him. You were still unconscious, and the sight of the blood on your temple made his heart race with anxiety. He needed you to wake up, to fight through this.

“Stay with me, please,” he whispered, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “You’re strong. You’ve always been strong. I need you to open those beautiful eyes for me.”

As they reached the infirmary, Joel burst through the doors, his heart pounding. He called out for Lena, and within moments, she appeared, her expression shifting from surprise to concern as she rushed over.

“What happened?” she asked, quickly assessing the situation.

“Paul... he—” Joel stammered, glancing down at you in his arms, “He pushed her. She hit her head.”

Lena nodded, her hands moving, delicately “Get her on the table,” she instructed, guiding Joel to a nearby exam table. He gently laid you down, feeling Rosie cling tightly to his leg.

“It’s okay, Rosie. Mommy’s gonna be okay,” he reassured, but doubt crept into his mind.

Lena started examining you, her hands steady and practiced. “Joel, I need you to step back for a moment.”

“No,” he said fiercely, unwilling to leave your side. “I’m staying right here.”

“Joel,” she said firmly, her eyes meeting his, “I can’t help her if you’re in the way. Trust me. She is gonna be okay.”

Now, as you lay unconscious in the infirmary back in Jackson, Joel was a wreck. He hadn't left your side since Tommy and a few others had found you in the remote cabin, blood trickling from your temple, unconscious and barely breathing. Paul had disappeared—vanished before anyone could catch him. The sight of you lying on that cold floor, helpless, had destroyed Joel in a way he hadn’t felt since Sarah’s death.

Joel was beside you now, his hand gripping yours, his face hollowed with sleepless nights and worry. He couldn’t keep his emotions in check anymore. “I swear to God,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I’ll kill him. I’ll find him, and I’ll make sure he never gets close to you again.”

But there was a vulnerability in him, one he couldn’t hide. His thumb brushed against your knuckles, his lips tight, the weight of his guilt pressing down on him. He hadn’t protected you, not like he promised. Paul had gotten close to you and Rosie, and Joel hadn’t seen it coming.

Tears filled his eyes, something that hadn’t happened since Sarah. “I let this happen. I should’ve known… I should’ve been there.” He shook his head, looking down at you, his voice dropping to a broken whisper. “You don’t deserve this. Not you.”

He reached into his pocket, pulling out the small, simple ring he had found not long ago. His fingers trembled as he held it in his palm, staring down at it. “I found this for you,” he whispered. “I’ve been waiting for the right moment, but now…” His breath hitched, and he let out a soft, bitter laugh. “Now I’m sitting here, talking to you while you’re not even awake.”

He gently slid the ring onto your finger, his heart aching as he did. “I love you,” he said, his voice cracking. “And when you wake up, you’re marrying me. That’s a damn promise. I know marriage doesn’t hold the same meaning as before, but I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you know how much I love you, every single day.”

Joel leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours, his breath shaky as he held onto you like you were his lifeline. “Just wake up, baby. Please. I can’t do this without you.”

And as Joel sat there, his heart breaking all over again, you stirred. It was faint at first, a small twitch of your hand in his, but it was enough. Joel’s head snapped up, his eyes wide with hope.

“Hey,” he whispered, his voice filled with both desperation and relief. “Come on, sweetheart. I’m right here. Just open your eyes for me.”

Slowly, painfully, you did. The room swam into focus, blurry at first, but the first thing you saw was Joel’s tear-streaked face hovering over you. His hand squeezed yours, and the relief in his eyes was overwhelming.

“You’re okay,” he whispered, his voice trembling as he cupped your face gently. “You’re gonna be okay.” He kissed your forehead, then your temple, his lips lingering as he whispered, “I’ve got you.”

You felt the weight of the ring on your finger, and despite everything, a small, tired smile tugged at your lips. “Is this… your way of proposing?” you rasped, your voice hoarse from the injury and exhaustion.

Joel let out a breathless laugh, his own tears spilling over as he nodded. “Damn right it is,” he whispered. “And when you’re feeling better, we’re gonna make it official.”

You squeezed his hand weakly, the pain still radiating through your body, but you knew one thing for sure: you were going to be okay. You had Joel, and despite everything Paul had done, he couldn’t take that away from you.

Joel smiled through his tears, pressing another kiss to your hand. “I love you,” he whispered, “I’m never letting you go.”

Tags 💌: @jasminedragoon @orcasoul @missladym1981 @hiroikegawa @eleganthottubfun @lumpypoll @cuteanimalmama @thespookywookies @goodvibesonly421 @karaslqve @greenwitchfromthewoods @somedayheaven @bambisweethearts @joelsteinfeld @guelyury @biapascal @picketniffler @mrsyixingunicorn10 @httpvomitello @kulekehe @callmecath1 @persephone-girl @colmiillo @pedroswife69 @kulekehe @capswife @fallout-girl219 @sullyselena @cymbalta-slut @my-tearsricochet

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[unfortunatelysirius]

Wicked Charm, What’s Your Patronus? | Remus Lupin, Marauders Era

「 ❁ 」PROMPT 「 ❁ 」

One day in Defense, Professor Boomstick offers whoever can produce a corporeal Patronus an Outstanding on the next essay as well as an out on a test. When Y/N shockingly produces a wolf Patronus, well… you can assume the rest.

「 ❁ 」AUTHOR’S NOTE 「 ❁ 」

Why did I name a guy Boomstick? Because that word is fucking hilarious to me THAT’S WHY (also this sucks ass but tbh I'm just going with the flow nowadays whatever comes out comes the f out whether it’s shit or not) and for anyone who wants to get technical, believe me i already know what u will say

      DEFENSE WAS Y/N L/N’S last class of every Friday and as of late, the only class she fervently dreaded. It was a mix of students from different Houses but dominated by Gryffindors. Three of the infamous sixth-year Gryffindor circle, James Potter, Sirius Black, and Remus Lupin, were in there, each of the blokes gifted with a wand. Y/N didn’t pay them much mind at the start of the year but after a few months of mingling and getting to know her classmates, she had developed somewhat of an acquaintanceship with the boys, perhaps even a friendship. She was one of the other few Gryffindors in the room and after she particularly chewed out one of the Ravenclaws feet from the classroom for ruining her perfect attendance record (allegedly, the clumsy arse caused her a three-day sentence in the Hospital Wing) James and Sirius decided she had enough style and substance (“Marauder flair,” they called it) to invite her into their gang.

      It was as unenticing on the inside as it was from a feet-on-the-ground outsider’s perspective. Y/N wasn’t very adventurous. She was miles away from Lily’s singlehanded definition of “studious”, but still a pretty mellow person, preferring to keep to predetermined routes and undetected on radars. She was an extrovert with introverted tendencies, mostly appearing at times with people who differed in lifestyle. Like James and Sirius, two peas in a pod.

      Remus Lupin was much less of a firecracker inches from popping, his voice tampered and quiet, his disposition ripe with premature wisdom. Y/N found him likeable. Almost too likable—a noticeable kind of fancy that only prats would fail to see. Then that fancy became more; she didn’t remember how.

      This was open to judgment from the gods, who could choose to interfere or leave Y/N’s recent change of heart alone.

      Unfortunately for her with this newfound friendship and growing fancy, James and Sirius had enough arrogance to fit the Greek gods from ancient myth…

      Zeus and Poseidon, at least. Maybe even Aphrodite, the bloody matchmakers. 

-

      Professor Boomstick, a stout, ashen man who oftentimes went into tangents about how the Muggle Army was a lousy old group of incompetent twats, liked challenges. He liked challenges for his students, specifically. He also liked favoritism and had yet to liken any students to his old pub buddies. Today Y/N and the Marauders all went to class expecting a test, but Professor Boomstick was already there waiting—and the room was empty of desks. Y/N stopped in her tracks, feeling Remus’s tall, lean frame smack into her backside. He apologized but she ignored him, sweeping her gaze across the floor. A group of students who found themselves there before her were huddling in a corner, nervous as sheep waiting to be sheered.  

      Y/N’s steps held an edge... She couldn’t deny she herself was nervous.

“Damn the test,” Professor Boomstick barked suddenly, catching Y/N’s bewildered eyes and holding them hostage. She swallowed hard. Surprises were not fun to her; she hated them with a passion. This old fart was just an arse to be incorporating one in place of a test on the history of Patronuses and Animagi she spent eons studying for. “We’ll see what you’re made of today without wasting parchment, can’t read your writin’ anyhow.”

      “What exactly are we doing?” a long-faced, petite-nosed girl asked.

      Professor Boomstick raised his wand and closed the door behind Y/N and the Marauders, throwing them further into the room. Y/N felt Remus’s arm brush her side and heat enveloped her from head to stomach.  Glaring at Professor Boomstick, they all walked to stand with the other students, keeping a close eye on the crazy man they all called their teacher. Thank Merlin Defense professors never lasted.  

      “For any of you kids that can produce me a corporeal Patronus, I won’t just give ye bonus,” Professor Boomstick said, smirking at the huddle of students. “Ya got an essay due two weeks time on endangered species of the Wizarding World and that test we had scheduled today’s rescheduled for Monday. I’ll give any of ya who give me what I want a freebie on the quiz—and an automatic Outstanding on the essay. Still gotta turn three pages in though.”

      The huddle of students struck up an excited exchange of whispers before going abruptly silent. Patronuses? That was hard-level shit and sparingly learned outside of class lessons due to its difficulty. Disappointment shuttered down the spines of each student, one at a time, as they all came to the same conclusion: this was a waste of time.

      “What? None of ya have even tried?” Professor Boomstick demanded, bushy white eyebrows furrowing in the middle of his forehead. “May be a charm, but it could save yer life someday. All it takes is one loose Dementor and BOOM! Your soul’s been sucked right outta ya.”

      Everyone flinched, some horrified at the sheer mention of Dementors. Professor Boomstick was right. No one really knew Patronuses and their uses. Advanced magic like that was too extensive, too dueling of a task.

      Professor Boomstick was getting frustrated and impatient, glaring at each student individually. Crazy old man.

Y/N L/N nervously glanced at her classmates, mostly the marauding group of boys she befriended, before she stepped out of the huddle. All eyes automatically went to her.

      James and Sirius were (in their opinion, rightfully) shocked she had this information under her belt the entire time—sitting on it, dwelling on it, never admitting to it where her friends were concerned. The two of them didn’t have any concept of privacy, both too invasive to be capable of secrets; Remus was nowhere near similar. Secrets were a part of his nature, only for the benefit of others and never his. If anyone could understand Y/N’s need to keep something like this close to her chest, it was Remus. Though, this wasn’t much of a secret. They all knew Y/N’s history and domestic life.

      Remus glanced at her, an unreadable expression on his face, but her back was turned to him. She could feel everyone looking at her and picking out a single pair of eyes was too strenuous a task.

      “Get on with it, L/N,” Professor Boomstick demanded.

      “Okay, sir,” Y/N said. She would have never dared do this, but she was drowning in coursework from her other classes—any further work and she’d lose sleep, her grades suffering for it. Her mouth opened, inhaling a deep breath she braced.

      Patronus charms were a complicated, beautiful species of magic. Arduous and dogging, it took someone particularly skilled to produce one—and you had to conjure one of your best memories, one of pure joy and exhilaration. Not just happiness, as one of Y/N’s old mentors incorrectly told her once upon a time. Y/N came from a family always preparing for the worst and through the years as the likelihood of a war reached its peak, her parents grew increasingly paranoid and enrolled her in a summer mentorship program as a precaution. She learned the Patronus charm from an eccentric man named Ellis Hawking.

      Y/N’s happiest memory, the one that gave her pure, unadulterated joy, was when she was twelve and got to see her new baby sister.

      “Expecto Patronum,” Y/N said when an incandescent smile reached her lips. All concentration went into her wand when she pointed. Her wand felt like it thrummed under her fingertips and she targeted the air just north of herself, where no one was in her line of sight.

      Everyone behind her gasped when a shot of pure light emitted from her wand’s end, something growing larger as it left. Tendrils of silver and white swept the floor, coiling to become a translucent shape. The shape growled noiselessly, galloping on the ground like a wolf. It was a wolf. Majestic and sleek, making a turn to come running back at the caster herself—polarizing white eyes staring right into hers. Ears pinned back and slivers of silver hair standing on edge. All until it disappeared into the same device that made it. Creation and destruction, two separate words that meant the same: an inevitable, unavoidable cycle.  

      Y/N’s Patronus was last a dolphin when she first learned how to cast, not a wolf.

      Her Patronus had changed.

      “Bravo, bloody Hell—bravo, girl!” Professor Boomstick clapped enthusiastically. “For sure you’re gettin’ in my good graces rest of this here year. You’ve gotta be one hell of a witch casting a corporeal Patronus at sixteen! Bloody—”

      Y/N stared down at her wand, completely bewildered.

      Why did it change?

-

      James glanced over at Sirius while Y/N was distracted, a grin breaking his shocked composure. Neither he, Sirius, or Remus expected that; while Remus was busy frozen and possibly panicking himself into early gray hairs, James was bursting on the inside from excitement. Sirius shared a similar expression.

      “Looks like little Y/N’s in love with Moony,” he hissed under his breath, failing to lose his grin. “That’s gotta be it. I’ve read on this before.”

      Sirius nodded, a faux solemnness combatting the electric shock darting around like butterflies on his face. “After General Prat’s done,” he said, and the two nodded like soldiers heading to war.

-

      When no one other than Y/N could even produce an incorporeal Patronus, Professor Boomstick disappointedly released them—promising a nervous Y/N not to worry about the test or upcoming essay. James and Sirius automatically attacked at the last nameless student’s retreat, Remus trailing his two mates like a left-behind dog.

      Sirius’s eyes zeroed in on Y/N’s wrist, where a charm bracelet dangled. It was covered in expensive-looking charms, one of engraved letters, a wand, a little wolf.

Whoa, cauldron’s bearings. There was a bloody wolf charm! What were the odds?

      “Wicked charm,” Sirius said through a wink. Y/N’s eyes flickered between the two blokes then at her charm bracelet, not at all soothed in their presence. Still struggling to understand why her Patronus would be different, the two twats harassing her wasn’t desirable—especially since they looked like they did while meddling. Pranking. Causing mischief. Y/N made it clear ages ago she wouldn’t react kindly if they decided to fuck around with her the way they did with the rest of the Hogwarts student body. She liked her comfort bubble how it was, unperforated by buffoons best left six feet away. “Wolves. Did you get it to match your Patronus?”

      Y/N bit her lip. “Well, actually—"

      “Ah, Padfoot, obviously that wouldn’t be the case,” James said, slinging an arm around his mate’s shoulder. “She got it because it makes her think of a certain someone.”

      “Who would I even think of? You guys are such prats,” Y/N said indignantly, narrowing her eyes now. Seriously, what were they getting at? They didn’t know anything, just perfectly well how drive anyone and everyone up the bloody wall. They’d drive a sane man mad!

      “James, Sirius, don’t,” Remus said softly, appearing from behind. His eyes were wide with alarm, meeting Y/N’s at her sharp twist. He gulped at the annoyance in hers; James and Sirius had already done their damage. Idiots, they were.

      “See, Y/N, I don’t think your Patronus has always been a wolf,” Sirius went on, pretending like neither Y/N nor Remus spoke in the first place. “Am I wrong?”

      Y/N warily said, “No…”

      “Did you know Patronuses can change to be complementary of their lovers’?” Sirius grinned obnoxiously. He shrugged his shoulders and nudged Y/N with one of his hands. “Just a thought. Maybe you fancy somebody, love ‘em.”

      Y/N’s eyes widened and involuntarily, they looked at where Remus was standing. Remus froze again.

      “We’ll leave you to it,” James said hastily, still grinning.

      The bespectacled boy quickly lassoed Sirius around the neck and guided him to the door, calling to Remus that they’d be back in their dorm by the time he finished.

      Remus awkwardly glanced over at Professor Boomstick. The man was just standing by his desk, drinking out of a flask, presumably waiting for his next class. Y/N sighed and unconsciously laced her fingers into Remus’s, dragging him away from their crazy-ass professor.

      Once outside, Y/N faced Remus. “Is your Patronus a wolf?” she asked quietly, hurriedly. She didn’t want anyone to overhear, though the only likely soul left in distance was Peeves.

      Remus looked at the ground. “Yes,” he reluctantly told her. He and the Marauders had yet to let her in on his furry little secret.

      “Oh,” Y/N said and went silent. It’s not that she didn’t want to be in love with Remus, she just didn’t understand why she could have been so stupid to cast her Patronus in front of the entire class without contemplating her feelings for Remus first. Especially with prior knowledge that a wolf Patronus implied the chance of the charm caster being a werewolf. Students from the class would be beside themselves with rumors of Y/N being a werewolf herself.

      As long as it wasn’t Remus being investigated.

      “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, peeking up at her.

      Y/N rolled her eyes. “Remus, why are you apologizing? Because of what animal the charm was? I’m not a bloody idiot. I know. Good thing I’m the caster, no one else, right?”

      “Why would you like me, let alone love me?” Remus asked. “I don’t understand. I’m—”

      “No, don’t even say it,” Y/N said, meeting his gaze. She reached forward and held his shoulders. “You’re handsome, funny, and intelligent. The least mad of any bloke I’ve seen. That’s all that matters to me.”

      The heels of her feet lifted off the ground so she could peck his cheek. Remus flushed red and flinched back, not having expected any sort of affection—but Y/N deliberately ignored his confusion. She snorted and turned to leave.

      Remus stood processing the unlikely events.

Y/N didn’t hear corresponding footsteps and stopped walking herself. “I hope you at least somewhat like me,” she said over her shoulder. “Else, that’d be one bloody embarrassing confession.”

Oh.

Remus’s shoes squeaked when he jogged to catch up. With his cheeks still aflame, Y/N hoped that meant he did, in fact, reciprocate.

I might need to do something about everyone seeing my Patronus, Y/N thought. Stupid Hogwarts and its plethora of assholes waiting for worthy gossip.

She was sure James and Sirius wouldn’t mind Obliviating the entire school for her and Remus. The idiots did supposedly do anything for their friends. 

[just-a-girl-and-her-ships]

Slibbs Writers - Scott Williams

(If he wrote it, chances are it's a good story, with some great Slibbs.)

Season 15

Ready or Not (15x09) dir. Terrence O'Hara

Gibbs, Jack and Bishop try to take down terrorist Andre Yorka. The first real case where we see Slibbs together in the field. Great scene in autopsy as Gibbs assures Jack that they will get the man responsible for the death of her friend. The look on his face when she pulls the bullet out too? So proud. 😍

This is also the ep when McGee's twins are born.

One Man's Trash (15x17) dir. Michael Zinberg

Gibbs and Ducky realize, while watching their favorite show, that an antique war stick may be the weapon used in a cold case many years ago. Such a great episode. Ends with Gibbs inviting Jack over for steaks and showing her his dad's razor.

Also, the character of Kasie Hines is introduced.

Date with Destiny (15x24)

Cowritten with George Schenck and Frank Cardea

Directed by Tony Wharmby

Season Finale of season 15. Jack goes on a date and runs face to face with Nigel Hakim. After confronting him in Vance's office, Gibbs checks in on her which leads to Jack revealing what happened to her as a POW and literally revealing her scars to Gibbs. Gibbs then tells her about killing the man who shot his family. Jack is the one person he told.

Season 16

Love Thy Neighbor (16x02) dir. Terrence O'Hara

The team is called to a crime scene in a suburban neighborhood. The deceased is found in the hot tub in the backyard. Great Slibbs scenes!

What Child Is This? (16x10) dir. Michael Zinberg

Oh so good, right? But he also leaves you wanting more. Jack gave him a bottle of "Kentucky's Finest " but what did he give her? When the baby, Nick and Ellie were at Gibbs' house, and Jack arrived....what made her go to Gibbs place really? And she looked so at home there! Next stop, MTAC....and they arrive together?

Then when it's time to bring the baby to his new parents, Gibbs stops by Jack's office. "Hey Jack. Ya still coming?" There are definitely scenes off camera between these two that we are missing.

Also, this is the first introduction to her daughter, Faith, when she is checking out her social media.

Bears and Cubs (16x16) dir. Diana Valentine

Main focus is on Jimmy's father-in-law and the case but Slibbs are working well together here, talking to the dad of the deceased. When they need someone to go undercover who can play poker...Gibbs knows the perfect person. Because in her words "I beat him once in one of his friendly poker games and now he calls me the Cincinnati Kid." Yeah. We need to see THAT game!

Lost Time (16x23) dir. Diana Valentine

Teleplay by Scott Williams

Story by Williams and Frank Cardea

Gibbs is having a hard time after he told his team about murdering Pedro Martinez. He seeks Grace's help in a bar. We find out later that Grace was in the middle of a breakthrough with another patient....Jack. At the end, they continue that session with Jack revealing that she feels alone and wants to let someone in, but isn't sure the other person feels the same way. Grace gets all 👀👀👀 and then 😍😍😍

Season 17

Going Mobile (17x03) dir. Thomas J. Wright

Oh they so have a thing. 😁 Nick and Jack have an interesting conversation in the elevator. She's trying to counsel them to improve their morale, but since Gibbs won't approach her, she goes to others to make sure he's ok. Which leads to their conversation in her office. Which ultimately leads to Gibbs replacing the ink blot with an elephant painting.

There are also multiple references to What Child Is This?. Nick references how "tight" they seemed to be back then. And then Gibbs gifts her the painting with the note "Merry Christmas"....a few months too late mind you. 😊

In The Wind (17x11) dir. Rocky Carroll

The search for Phineas. When Gibbs sees that Jack is on the other line, he ends the call with Ziva. Jack comes over quickly (because she is already there!). She's by his side to help find Phineas and comforts him when he can't remember the details. They later share a moment in the elevator, but the hug just wasn't enough!

At the end, he can't believe what she's done and she states "miracles happen". Oh how we wish they would.

And let's not forget Jack's line, after Ziva thanks her for taking care of Gibbs' heart...."We take care of each other's. "

Blarney (17x19) dir. Rocky Carroll

Not a Slibbs episode but great nonetheless. And Gibbs' reaction when he realizes it's HIS diner that is the site of the hostage situation....no words are necessary.

[moonlightsolo]

bête noire

summary: The Resistance sent out spies to track First Order trade but they were ambushed. General Leia has decided it’s time to find a new base. It has almost been a month since you’ve given birth. Your relationship with Poe has grown even stronger than before. Your mind can’t stop overthinking about where Kylo is, you haven’t felt him in a while. It’s been too long.

pairing: kylo ren x female reader

warnings: nsfw!!! (ur welcome)

wc: 5.5k

note: this chapter is a lot to handle. ok go read it, bye.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

It seems like over the next couple of weeks the war escalates drastically.

Two Resistance spies took a ship to go on a mission aimed to secretly observe First Order trade.

A barely audible transmission from their ship was sent to the Resistance on Hoth. Poe brings you to the command center since you have intel on the First Order, maybe they think you could know more than them. 

As you both walk into the large meeting room, you notice that mostly everyone from the base is here.

Leia is sitting down in a chair, talking to someone important. The lady cuts Leia off to speak, “Now that we are all here. Some of you may know we received a transmission from the two searching for First Order trades. Prepare yourself as this is hard for some to hear.”

She steps forward and presses on a button. At first, it was static but then the recording was normal as a lady’s voice erupted on the speaker. They were simply updating Leia on how they are going about the operation but she was interrupted by First Order troopers suddenly invading their ship. Blaster shots and screams are heard as they try to fight back.

A groan was heard from the man who was also on the mission, obviously, he got injured. The woman screams at the troopers to stop shooting, letting them take her as a hostage for the sake of his wellbeing. The sound gets muffled as she screams for them to stop then a single blaster shot echoes. What just happened?

Her cries were heard as they dragged her away. They must’ve captured her. Then the other troopers' footsteps could be heard as they raided the ship then the sound cuts out. “They noticed the transmission being recorded, so they shut it off and it was sent to us.”

Leia assumes that the male who is on the mission was too injured then the woman gave up for them to be taken, hostage. Instead, the troopers killed the man and only took her.

Mostly everyone in the room is teary-eyed from hearing such a gruesome scene that happened to their friends.

“The First Order may track the sent transmission back to us. I don’t want to do this, but to be safe we need to find another planet to take refuge on.” Leia’s voice spoke softly to the group. “I don’t want anyone to freak out but we need to leave urgently. Calmly pack up your things into transport ships so we can leave in the middle of the night.” Leia nods then everyone scurries out of the room to pack.

Poe catches your eye, he knows you are panicking. Your babies are almost a month old, how are they going to survive in a ship wanted by the First Order?

He grabs your hand and begins to pull you through the stampede of people to catch Leia before she leaves. “General!” He calls out and she turns around. She seems off, almost weakened for some reason.

“Do you have any idea about where we are going?” Poe asks Leia’s eyes dart around and there are too many people around so she motions for you both to follow her.

She leads you both to the corner of the room, most of the people have flooded out by now but she wants to stay quiet. “We’re looking at Ajan Kloss. It’s a moon that orbits around Ajara. It’s a jungle moon so it’s going to have a much different climate from here. Hopefully, we can easily acclimate there.” She sighs but gives you a reassuring nod.

“The babies will be okay. We will have our cloaking devices on so we’ll be invisible to their trackers.” She holds on your hand tightly before pulling away.

You look at Poe who pulls you in for a quick peck on the cheek, “Go pack everything up. I’ll be there soon to help.” He then follows her to ask more questions.

Your relationship with Poe has grown so much stronger. Kaydel and Poe called things off, and that made you guys even closer. Only really good friends, but you can’t help but notice how he has come to lay in your bed more and talk. Just talking though, no funny business.

Last time you saw Kylo was when he laid in bed with you the night after you gave birth. You’re hoping he’s okay and that he’s just too focused on his work to think about anything else. A part of your brain thinks that he may have given up on you and his children but you try to ignore those negative thoughts.

You take a deep breath as you walk out of the command room and make it back to your quarters. Thankfully, your shoulder has healed mostly and you’ve gotten rid of the sling. You grab large duffel bags and fold your clothes and put your belongings into one and the droid worked on putting the babies stuff in two different backpacks.

Ani and Ellie are much more active now but still so tiny. It worries you to bring them into a jungle. You just need to keep telling yourself it’ll be okay.

It feels like your senses are wiped from you and you lose your breath. You turn to the side slowly, your eyes look over the dark figure. “You’re fleeing. The Resistance knows The First Order is close to finding you.” His voice is deep and stern, “Tell me where you are.” His hand goes out to try and use the Force on you.

You look over him, taking notice of his darker under eyes and messy hair. His armor is in perfect condition like somebody irons it every day for him.

“Kylo. I’m sorry but that’s not going to work on me.” You almost laugh, his hand slowly drops to his side as he realizes. He takes a gulp, his adam’s apple bobbing. You grow concerned for him, your eyebrows furrowing. “Are you okay?” You take a hesitant step towards him, reaching out for his hand.

He seems closed off, “You’re pulling away. I can feel our connection fading because of the light. You need to stop holding on to them!” He grows frustrated, his voice rising slightly. Your facial expression turns into a frown as you slowly move closer, your hand touches his bicep. “I’m not holding onto them. I’m safe right now. We’re safe.” You look back at the children.

“No. You’re not. Once you get into those shuttles, I can’t save you.” He shakes his head and pulls away from your touch.

You felt tears prick at your eyes, a lump growing in your throat. “Just tell me where you are!” His veins pop out on his forehead. You wince as you back up from him, not wanting to be close to his temper.

“No, Kylo. The First Order will kill them all. You know it. Your mother is here, you can’t kill her. I know you can’t.” You sniffle and swallow your emotions. “You’d regret killing your mother just like you do with your father.” Those words caused something to switch in his brain.

“No. Killing my father was the best thing I could have ever done. I grew stronger. I am the leader of the First Order. The largest military faction in the galaxy.” He begins to pace, “If you were here with me, our family could rule the galaxy and take over.” His voice softens as he looks at you, a gleam of evil shows in his eyes.

His words are causing a knife to dig deeper into your heart, “No.. Kylo... We don’t want the same things. I want peace for our children, to play in the grass and in the sun. Not to be stuck on a gigantic weaponized ship in space.” You snapped at him.

You turn around to sling the duffel bag over your shoulder, wiping your tears so he couldn’t see them.

“Kylo, I know you’re torn. You should come back to your family here. Become who you really are...” You hesitate before continuing, “Ben Solo.” You turn around and notice that he’s gone. You felt another pang in your chest, tears now running freely down your cheeks and snot too. You wipe it off with your long sleeve and continue packing.

Poe walks into the room as you sit on the bed, your head in your heads as your mind runs with thoughts. He instantly takes notice to your inflamed face, “Hey, are you okay?” He comes up next to you to sit down and wrap a comforting arm around your shoulders.

You nod, knowing it’s a lie but you lean into his touch. “It’s okay. You don’t need to say anything, I’m here for you.” He tucks your head under his chin as he holds you.

“I’m going to take our stuff to a ship later, I’ll come to see you when I’m done so we can get onto a shuttle together.” He says the plan confidently. The droid interrupts, “Don’t forget about me.” She beeps out. You and Poe laugh, “Of course not.” He says to her.

Poe takes the heavy bag off of your shoulders to move it to the floor. “Come with me.” He grabs your hand, “You got them?” You ask the droid who nods and opens its arms mockingly.

Poe takes your hand and brings you into his bedroom, nothing is off of the walls nor is anything put away. “I need your help packing.” He laughs and you just shake your head with a playful smile.

It takes about thirty minutes for Poe and you to pack up his whole room. Of course, you chit chat throughout the time about what certain knick-knacks meant and why he is holding onto clothes he can’t fit into anymore.

Now both of you are laying on his bed horizontally, legs dangling off the bed as you stare at the ceiling. “Poe. I have a question.” You state softly, still staring at the concrete ceiling.

“Go ahead.” He looks over at you, turning on his side so he could play with your hair. “Why was I left on Crait?” You turn your head to look at him.

His facial expressions freeze, like he’s in shock. “What? Is the answer that bad?” You ask with a nervous laugh.

He lets out a breath before he starts to talk, “You were dead. Well, at least we thought you were... You had no heartbeat, we couldn’t stop the bleeding and you weren’t breathing either. As much as we wanted to take you with us, we couldn’t. The First Order was already beginning to move forward to enter the base. We didn’t even know if we actually had an exit.” He mumbles softly, avoiding eye contact. “But then Rey saved us. She used the Force and the rest of us got into the Falcon. She asked about you and when we told her the news she was heartbroken. She felt like you were the sister she never had.”

You couldn’t help but get emotional, everyone mourned over you and thought about you as if you were actually dead. “Then we traveled around the galaxy and found Hoth.” He let out a sharp breath through his nose. “For months we thought you were dead. I moved on with Kaydel, I started to finally come to terms with your death. Then all of a sudden, Leia tells us that she felt you through the Force. She felt you. It gave me hope you were still alive. Then she told us you joined the First Order, and that you were working alongside Ren.” He scoffed annoyingly which made you roll your eyes and sit up.

You pulled on your long sleeves to cover your hands, bringing the fabric up to your eyes to wipe your tears. “Poe... I didn’t know you thought I died. Honestly, I thought you guys left me because you knew I was dying and wouldn’t make it. I felt like the Resistance gave up on me.” You sniffle as you try to swallow the lump in your throat. Your brain works as you recall the hazy memories from Crait, you remember being alive and waking up. The pain you felt was indescribable.

Poe sits up too, moving closer to your body to pull you into his side. “Look, you’re one of the strongest people I know. You’ve been through some tough shit. You literally beat death so many times.” He gives you a squeeze. You look up at him with a teary smile.

You notice how his eyes travel from your lips then up to your eyes. Is he going to kiss you? Oh no, he definitely is.

Poe begins to lean forward, his dark eyelashes rest on his olive skin. Your eyes stay open as everything moves in slow motion, you admire his facial features as he nears you. One kiss wouldn’t hurt.

You let your own eyes close as you accept his kiss, one of his hands rest in the dip of your waist as the other is on your knee. Your hand comes up to his jawline to cup it and pull him closer.

The stubble on his face scratches you in the most attractive way. Stop, this is bad, you shouldn’t be kissing him. His lips are so addicting though.

He begins to deepen the kiss, his tongue gently rolls against your bottom lip as he tilts his head. A little squeak escapes your throat as his tongue hits yours, he smirks against your lips.

His hand travels up your knee, his other hand is gripping your hip now as he moves forward so you fall back against the bed again. He hovers over you, pulling away from the kiss so he can take a deep breath. You do the same too.

He dives right back in, his tongue dances with yours as his hands grip your hips to move you farther up the bed. Both of your breathing has picked up as you pant into each other’s mouths. His warm hand makes its way under your shirt to grip your pillowy flesh on your side. He hesitatingly pushes his knee between your legs to open them so he could fit between them.

This is going way too far but it feels too good to stop now.

“I know this is so wrong.” He almost moans into your mouth, “But it feels so right.” He begins to kiss down your neck, leaving little marks that will be gone soon.

You let out a whimper, biting your bottom lip as you try your hardest not to rip your clothes off right now. You haven’t been touched in forever and right now you’re throbbing for some relief.

“Poe, I can’t.” You’re crying on the inside, asking yourself why you couldn’t let yourself have some pleasure. You can’t stop thinking about Kylo. Poe instantly pulls his lips off of you when he hears you say no, “Okay, yeah that’s fine. I’ll do whatever you want.” He is breathing heavy above you.

He gently rolls to the side, his back against his bed now. “Sorry, I didn’t expect it to get that intense.” You mumble shyly, “Don’t be sorry. It’s your choice.” He says quietly. “I’m gonna go now. Thanks for... that.” You say awkwardly as you get off the bed. You look back at him once and smile, he returns it, of course.

You need to go take a cold shower to calm your libido, which is what you do as soon as you get into your room. You notice that the droid has taken Ani and Ellie for a walk around the base.

The cold water trickles down your hot skin as you wash away your thoughts. Everything moves in slow motion as your ears start to ring then your surroundings go silent. It’s Ren. You turn the stream of water off, grabbing your towel to wrap around your body then you open the shower curtain. He’s standing there in front of the door.

“The pilot. He kissed you.” Kylo says under his breath. Your ears barely pick it up since his voice is so deep. You stop in your tracks when you realize what he said. Water continues to drip from your hair and roll down your damp skin.

“How do you know?” You ask, your eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“I felt it. I had a vision and I felt you.” His voice is low.

“The kiss meant nothing.” You practically lie through your teeth, knowing it was much more. The kiss was passionate, like a bomb of built-up tension blew up and everything was let loose but it will never be as good as Kylo.

The raven-haired man shakes his head, looking to the side with his head angled down. He almost seems sad.

“No, I am not sad.” He scoffs at your thoughts, “I cannot blame you for your actions. I haven’t made an effort to connect with you.” His head lifts up and he stands up tall with his shoulders back. Before you could respond he changes the subject, “You called me Ben. That’s why I left. You know that’s not my name. The Resistance is changing you. I’m trying to keep you from going to the light but you’re pulling away from me.” He’s stern.

“I’m not pulling away.” You take a step out of the shower, his eyes follow you as you move closer to him. “I know you. I can feel your emotions. You want to be with me and our children but the path you’ve chosen makes the situation much harder for you to just stroll back to your family. People will be scared, they won’t trust you.” You breathe out, your hand coming up hesitatingly to rest your hand on his chest, feeling the ridges of the black fabric underneath your fingertips.

“I love you. I want to be with you but I’m going to have to choose this path for our children. For their well-being.” You look into his eyes and notice how he grows frustrated with your last sentence.

“For their well-being? You’re packing them onto ships targeted by the First Order. They could be blown up easily. If you would join me, you’d be protected! The Resistance does not have enough ships nor the people to try and go against us again.” He proves a point, “The Resistance left you to die. What makes you think they wouldn’t do it again?”

Goosebumps ran across your skin when those words left his mouth, “They thought I was dead. They didn’t leave me to die.” You took a deep breath then you back up from him, “Let me by.” You look up at him and he doesn’t budge as he keeps eye contact with you, “Please.” Your face scrunches up in annoyance. His large frame moves to the side, his hand coming up to mockingly lead the way for you.

You scoff and open the bathroom door to walk out into the cold bedroom with Kylo in tow. You don’t hesitate as you drop your towel in front of him to get dressed, you can feel his eyes on your body. You’re comfortable with him but your body has changed since you’ve given birth.

You were on a strict training plan when you were with the First Order, but with the Resistance you were definitely a bit more lenient with your food intake and the lack of physical activity.

You’ve gained a bit of weight around your hips and thighs, you have new dainty stripes painted across your stomach and hips from being pregnant too. You took a deep breath as you shimmied into your clothing, some joggers and a long sleeve top to keep you warm. You take your towel to wrap your hair up to dry it faster, “You’re different.” Kylo states softly, as his eyes look over your body once more.

You look at him with annoyance written across your features evidently, “What does that even mean?” You laugh as you move around the room to make sure everything is packed away. “You’re leaving soon aren’t you.” He takes a step forward when he notices that you’re occupied with other things. He can’t see your surroundings but he has an inkling to what you’re doing.

You ignore his question, “What do you mean when you said I’m different?” You put the rest of the supplies into the packs before you turn towards him.

“You’ve changed. I’ve said this to you before. It’s good and bad. You’re... beautiful. Although the light in you...” He takes a few steps closer to you, now arms length away. “It pains me to see you turn away from the dark. You have so much power inside of you. I attempted to help you let this power out... Rey is only trying to tame it.” His gloved hand comes up to brush your cheek with his fingers, his thumb rubbing your cheekbone. “I love you.” He breathes out, closing his eyes as he rests his forehead against yours.

You feel tears in your eyes as you close them, “I love you.” Your arms wrap around his waist to pull your bodies closer.

A knock on the door makes both your heads turn, “It’s the pilot.” Kylo hisses out. You can tell he wants to move and become face to face with him but you hold onto him tightly.

“Yeah?” You call out, “I-I just wanted to see if you were okay... After ya know, everything that happened.” Poe’s voice is muffled from behind the door. “Yeah, I’m good. Just got outta the shower. I’ll be out soon.” You try to get him to leave, “Okay. I’m gonna meet Finn and Rey to get some food. I hope to see ya there.” He begins to walk away, you hear the front door open and close.

As you move your head to look up at Kylo, he grabs your face to press his lips against yours roughly. The towel on your head begins to loosen as he backs you up into the wall, the towel falls to your feet and your damp hair falls to your shoulders. “I want you.” He growls into the kiss, it makes you whimper. The way his other hand grips your hip at the waistband of your pants and his other hand on your jaw makes you melt.

“Nobody can please you as I do. You’re connected to me.” He breathes against your lips then he trails kisses down your neck to your collarbone. His hand slips underneath the waistband of your pants, the warm leather tickles your skin as he moves closer to your core.

That’s when you realize there’s still pressure against your hip like he’s holding it. He doesn’t have an extra arm, does he?

He smirks against your skin when he hears your thoughts, “This is gonna feel so good.” He begins to back up from your body, but something is holding you against the wall and there’s still something in your pants. The Force.

You let out a whimper as the invisible hand tickles over your core, you watch how two of his fingers come up and make a come hither motion. Your head slams against the wall as the Force buzzes inside of you, your thighs squeeze shut in reaction. “Oh.. my...” Your voice is shaky as your knees buckle, you brace yourself to fall but he holds you up.

The pleasure that’s buzzing inside of you is euphoric, almost too much for your body to handle. Something vibrates against your clit which makes you cry out and squirm under his restraints. You bite your bottom lip as you pant, you already feel like you’re going to climax.

“Let go. You’re tense, you need to relax.” The force pumps in and out of you, the pace quickening as he feels you. His eyes closed as he focuses, you see white spots as you let go. You gasp for air as your thighs quiver, your toes curling against the floor.

The restraints leave your body, making you fall forward but he catches you before you could hit the ground. “Good.” He praises you as he easily lifts your limp body up to bring you over to the bed.

“Thank you.” He says to you, giving your forehead a kiss. He stands up next to your bed looking down at you, “For what?” You ask out of breath. He just stares at you, “I found out where you are. I’m coming to get you and our children.” His presence leaves your side as he walks away, disappearing before your eyes. You let your guard down and you didn’t even realize he was reading your mind.

You sit straight up in the bed, moving as quickly as you could. You try your best to walk straight so you could slip on some shoes. You leave your quarters as you start to jog down the hallways then you end up in a full sprint, “Poe! Poe!” You scream as you see him walking down the hallway with Rey and Finn.

“He knows. They know where we are. You guys need to leave. Now.” You say out of breath, your hands going onto your knees as you bend over.

Poe’s eyes go wide as he registers what you just said, he doesn’t say anything he just runs away towards the command room with Finn.

Rey stares at you with fear in her eyes, “How? What happened?” She pulls you up to look you in the eyes, “I let my guard down. He went through my head. I didn’t know, I’m so sorry.” You breathe out. Her brown eyes are wide with fear as she turns around to go follow Poe and Finn.

Then you realize the droid is still with your babies, you need to find them. You push past her as you start to run down the halls frantically, Rey calls your name but you just ignore her.

A siren in the base sounds, red lights lighting up in the hallways. Everyone begins to panic as they’re all moving towards the hangar to get onto the ships. You spot the droid with the babies cradled in her arms, you run up to her and take Ellie. “We need to go. Get the bags.” You and the droid begin to run towards your quarters, laying Ellie on the bed as you exchanged your slippers for boots.

You put the duffel bag over your shoulder while the droid grabs the bags for the babies and puts them on her mechanical arms. You scoop Ellie up and begin to join the stampede in the hallway, making your way to the hangar.

Your brain is working so quickly, you don’t know what to do. Adrenaline is pumping through your veins, your heartbeat is so fast.

As you near the transport ship, you see Poe, Leia and Rey are already inside. Kylo reaches out to you through your mind, “If you get onto that ship, I can’t save you.”

You stop in your tracks as the last bit of people board the ships, “Don’t get on the ship. I’ll order to not attack the Resistance.”

His voice sounds promising, tears are now running down your cheeks. You can’t take the chance of having your children die if you get on that ship. Poe walks out to you, “What’s wrong? What are you doing?” He asks, obviously concerned.

“I can’t go.” You shake your head, “What? Why? Stop it, come on.” Poe asks as he tries to lead you to the ship but your feet are anchored into the ground.

“If I go, we will all die. You need to go without us.” Your hand reaches for the blaster in Poe’s sling, grabbing ahold of it to point it at him. You click the safety off, your finger resting on the trigger. His hands go up in surrender, “I’m sorry. You need to go.” You look at the droid who’s standing still with Ani then back at Poe.

You look back at the ship, noticing Rey isn’t by Leia’s side anymore. “Shit.” You curse as she comes up behind you to disable your actions with her staff. The blaster falls from your hands and so does Ellie, Poes quick reflexes make him fall to his knees to catch her before she could hit the ground.

She instantly begins to cry and so does Ani. They’re frightened. Poe rushes onto the ship with the droid in tow. Your face is pressed against the cold concrete of the hangar, wrists behinds your back with her knee against them. “Rey, please. They’ll kill us all if I go with you.” She pulls you up by your wrists, pushing you forward so you stumble onto the ship. She leads you over to the corner of the ship, sitting you down by pushing on your shoulders.

“She is a traitor!” Rey yells at Leia, pointing at you. The droid situates the babies as the ramp closes to the ship, the hangar opens as the ships begin to fly out one by one. They all have the cloaking device on, hoping to stay under the First Orders radar. Not like it didn’t work the first time on the way to Crait.

Rey and Leia bicker back and forth about you and you listen to their words. Leia is trying to justify your actions but Rey says you’re too far gone to be saved. It might be true. Even though Kylo says you’ve turned to the light too much.

Poe walks up to you, looking at you from above. “He’s in your head. He’s corrupting you. Don’t let him do this to you.” Poe bends down to get to your eye level, “I knew that you wouldn’t hurt me.” He breathes out as he brushes back a piece of your almost dry hair.

“We’re all going to be okay.” He says as the ship leaves the hangar, the white snowy landscape shows itself. You hear the thumps of the other ships entering light speed, then the ship you’re on jolts and you’re surrounded by the swirling blue of hyperspace.

You lean back against the cold metal interior of the ship, your eyes glance over to see your babies being taken care of. You’re so thankful for that droid.

“We’ll be off this ship soon and then we will be safe and sound. I promise.” Poe sits down next to you so you could lean your head on his shoulder. “I believe you.” You mumble as you close your eyes and take a deep breath.

-

The shuttles land in the hangar, troops instantly begin to pile out of them to search the premises.

He stands up swiftly from his seat to leave the ship along with the General who is not far behind.

“Supreme Leader. We’re too late, they’ve escaped.” The smaller man sighs.

Kylo Ren’s dark gaze scans over the hangar. He notices that one of the troopers picks up something from the ground. Another armored man walks up to him as they discuss what it is.

Ren takes huge strides towards them, towering over the two as he snatches the cloth from their hands. It’s a baby hat.

He rubs the cloth between his thumb and pointer finger, the leather of his gloves move against it smoothly. The troopers look up at Kylo, “Continue searching.” Kylo orders them and they scurry away.

General Hux walks up next to Ren, instantly noticing the hat in his hand. “A baby... Who would conceive children during a war?” He scoffs, rolling his eyes as he begins to follow his troops towards the entrance of the base. Kylo lifts his head, blinking back tears as he stuffs the hat in the pocket inside of his cloak.

He takes a deep shaky breath, his jaw clenches as he gulps. His tough facade returns, leaving him as the Supreme Leader of the First Order once again.

The troops continue to move around him to explore the base to see if there are any clues to where they have gone.

Kylo begins to walk forward, moving from the hangar and into the hallways. The base now seems like a First Order has captured this base as their own. There is so troops marching around.

The memory he saw in your head replays as he follows the same hallways you walked to make it to where you were living.

His hand grabs the doorknob to the front door to open it, walking inside the home you lived in for months. His eyes glanced over the area, you definitely left in a hurry. He walked forward, pushing open the ajar door to the room you stayed in.

He notices the two cribs in the corner that you didn’t take. He looks over the unmade bed, his hand runs over where you laid. He walks over the cribs, seeing how they’re stripped to nothing. Only the mattress is left. His hands lay over the mattresses, his head hangs as his emotions get the best of him.

He has to get his family back. He needs to protect them, no matter what the cost.

tag list: @officiallpeterparker @funnysadshit @ymariejp @attorneyl @fangirl570 @trinityrud20 @kylos-sassy-cousin @delicatelyherdreams @fizzywoohoo @savvy7392 @angelias134 @that-girl-named-alex @cas-backwards-tie @glimmering-darling-dolly @glitterypinkkitty @blxkstar @his-snow-white-queen @elsasshole @smiithys @nanocoool @deathbyarabbit @alex-skr @theholycakehole  @averillian  @crazynocturnalkiki @arcanebabe @tinydancer40 @superduckypower  @thomasscresswell @butterfly-writes​ @thatintrovertedbisexual​ @fangirlanotherjust​ @somekindofroger​ @nicci442​ @little-girl-who-dream-too-much​ @wildest-dream-​ @silverlambcaptain​ @cliffordmess​ @xkylorxn​ @lowkeyofsassguard

[mrs-elijah-wood]

ZRS8 Spoilers Below ~~

FOR REAL DON’T READ IF YOU HAVEN’T PLAYED AT LEAST THE FIRST MISSION

OKAY HERE WE GO

I JUST DID THE FIRST MISSION OF S8 AND - 

ELLIE

THEY YANG PULSED MY GIRL ELLIE!!!!!!!!! I’m really glad no one was around where i was walking bc i audibly gasped and yelled “NO NOT ELLIE” after she got shot

and her last words were calling out for five................kill me.............😭😭😭😭😭

her death also reminded me a lot of owen’s. think about the parallel of steve shepherding five away from owen’s dead body vs. five basically having to drag sam away from ellie’s. let me cry about that for a little bit. okay i’m done.

aside from me crying about ellie, i’m really intrigued by the setup of the season! i like the covert ops team assembly and the time constraint is going to be really interesting. admittedly, i’m a sucker for the edda stuff so i’m excited that’s coming back into play. 

also i hope we get to learn more about jones’ character, especially as an antagonist, bc he has definitely succeeded on getting on my shitlist but i want to know what makes him tick. as of now he’s kind of two dimensional “wah wah i’m gonna spread chaos” okay buddy when you get on moonchild’s level come and talk to me. meanwhile i’m going to kick your ass for causing janine pain (to be fair i would kick anyone’s ass for even looking at janine wrong). 

AMELIA’S BROADCASTS AS PRIME MINISTER HAD ME SCREAMING. I hope it works out in the long run for her bc nothing would be funnier to me than an old and greying Five telling a grown up Baby Sara some apocalypse stories like “did i ever tell you about the time when the prime minister of the united kingdom kidnapped and took me hostage in a plane. which she then proceeded to crash.” 

also i get why peter had to stay behind but now i’m thinking about the team saying their goodbyes before setting off from abel and five is just like “don’t heroically sacrifice yourself while i’m gone” and peter just laughs but then five’s like “i’m not even kidding in the slightest.”

[master-sass-blast]

Out With the Old, In With the New, Part Two -Because Men are Often Worse Still.

IT’S ALMOST 1 AM THIS TOOK SO LONG TO FORMAT AND YEAH I COULD’VE STARTED EARLIER BUT S T I  L L-

Part Two of “Out With the Old, In With the New.” To recap, Piotr is kidnapped while on a mission, and you take things into your own hands when Nathan, Wade, and Neena turn up missing as well. In the process of tracking down Piotr, you run into and team up with Angel Dust -aka Christina--who’s looking for her missing daughter. You then ask Frank Castle for help in freeing your family, friends, and Christina’s daughter, then join him, Christina, Ellie, Yukio, and Russell on a mission to rescue everyone. Just when it seems like you’ve won, though, the mastermind behind the kidnappings --Nathaniel Essex--escapes with Christina’s daughter in tow, leaving you all with no other choice but to pursue him.

Yeah, it’s a lot. If you haven’t read part one, you definitely should otherwise this is going to be really confusing.

Rating: Tish for pyschological torture, injury, feelings of failure/probable rejection sensitivity dysphoria, and near death situations.

Pairings: Piotr Rasputin x Reader, Nathan Summers x Wade Wilson, Frank Castle x Karen Page, Ellie Phimister x Yukio, and Alexandra Rasputin x Nikolai Rasputin,

Taglist: @marvel-is-perfection, @chromecutie, @super-darkcloudstudent, @girl-obsessed-with-things, @nebulous-leo, @dandyqueen

Alright. Let’s start with the good news.

The good news is that Piotr is –mostly—okay. He’s a little dehydrated and a little roughed up from being knocked out and captured, but other than that he’s fine.

(According to him, Essex and his team of scientists seemed more interested in Neena, Wade, and Madeline; he and Nate were merely proxy captures.)

The bad news is that everything else is going to shit.

Scott basically hit the roof once he found out you left –with the teens, two known criminals, and a Hell’s Kitchen vigilante that is in the legal gray area in tow—without authorization, and is none too thrilled when you return with three more mutants that fall on the vigilante-assassin spectrum and a mutant super weapon with no tongue.

(Fortunately, Alex sends him packing with a none-too-welcoming glare before he can verbally rip you to shreds.)

Your home is a veritable madhouse, now. True to his word, your uncle flew in, and has since taken your dining room hostage with various laptops, weapons, and stacks of paper. Nate and Frank are shoulder to shoulder with him, going over various strategies and pieces of intel; Wade, Ellie, Piotr, and Christina are arguing about Francis and the Weapon-X program, while Mikhail, Yukio, Alex, and Russell are having their own other conversation about the lab and everything that happened there—

It all blends into a cacophony of noises, none of which is helping you think right now.

Shit.

You notice Neena sitting off to the side, staring out the darkened window that overlooks the back deck. You skirt the chaos that starts in your dining room, trails through the hall, and spills into the kitchen, and sit down next to her on the couch. “You okay?”

She sighs heavily, then gives you a weak, tired smile. “Not really. But I will be.”

You want to ask her what happened in the lab –what Essex was so interested in—but you know now’s not the time for that question. That there may never be a time for that question. “Why don’t you go lay down in the guest room upstairs?” You look over your shoulder at the multiple arguments and conversation, then back at her. “Not to say we don’t need you, but I think we’re covered as far as opinions go.”

“Thanks,” she says with a small smile, “but Wade actually called Dopinder for me. He’ll be taking me back to my place.”

“Are you sure that’s safe?” you ask with a frown.

“I’ve got a good feeling about it.”

You let out a little huff of laughter. “Well, if you want to go chill upstairs until Dopinder comes, feel free.”

“That actually sounds good. I think I’ll do—”

The sound of glass shattering cuts Neena off –along with every other person in your home, save for one.

“You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about!”

You whirl around and see Christina advancing on Wade, who quickly gets Russell out of her warpath before picking up the nearest, largest shard of glass from the broken mirror that he can find and angles it at her.

“I will fucking shank you,” Wade snaps, voice entirely lethal. “You –you, of all people—do not get to tell me what is and isn’t a job! Your fucking sugar daddy turned me into a moldy avocado that got facefucked by a naked mole rat! You two built an entire scam off torturing innocent, desperate people just so your psychopathic main squeeze could get his rocks off and feel like some sort of Zeus-wannabe—”

“You don’t understand shit!” Christina snarls, advancing on Wade. “You’ve never tried to take care of a kid—”

“—playing God and crushing people under his feet—”

“—with no way to get a decent job or pay child support—”

“—and then you helped kidnap my future baby momma—”

“—and no resources or avenues to help you out—”

“—and you think I’m just going to forgive that?”

“—so you take what you can get!”

“Alright, alright, easy,” Alex says with an air of unchallengeable authority. With a simple gesture of her hand, she uses her telekinesis to back Wade and Christina away from each other, before flicking her wrist again, sending every last splinter of glass off the floor and into the kitchen trash can. “There’s bad blood between you two, that much is obvious. None of that changes that we have child to rescue. You two can duke it out later; now, we focus. Ponimayu?”

“If you think,” Wade spits out, still glaring at Christina, “that I am working with some fucking Cara Dune knock off—”

“She will not be joining us,” Alex interjects. “So that takes care of that.”

“Since fucking when!” Christina growls, advancing on Alex with her fists balled up. “Maddie’s my daughter, I’m not—”

“Risking losing her permanently by possibly getting your ass caught in some less than legal actions, while associating with less than legal people,” Alex finishes, standing and crossing her arms over her chest. “Because you have criminal history, da? Which means you do not have full custody, da? And if you get caught in further such activity, you will lose custody to ex who decided to give your daughter to man we are tracking, da?”

Christina visibly seethes, but says nothing.

“Our goal is to protect your daughter, which also means protecting you,” Alex continues, voice gentler. “Otherwise, we end up right back here. So, you stay here, we bring Maddie back to you—”

“—and my ex still has custody rights,” Christina finishes, bitter and defeated.

Alex casts a glance at your uncle before shrugging. “Maybe not. We’ll work something out.”

Christina squints at her, expression perplexed. “Work ‘what’ out?”

“Also, sidebar,” Wade interjects. “Since when am I just getting looped in on this?”

“You want to leave young girl in hands of experimenting scientist?” Alex asks, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

“No.”

“Then you help. Anyone else want to say anything?”

“What about us?” Russell asks, gesturing between himself, Yukio, and Ellie.

“You three stay here as well –I will handcuff you all to chairs myself if it comes to that,” Alex adds before any of the teens can argue. “Anyone else?”

“How’re we gonna track this shitstain down?” Frank pipes up. “He could be anywhere.”

“We can go through the intel we already have,” your uncle says, jumping into the conversation. “Chances are he’s still local, since it’s not easy to keep multiple sites running across a widespread area. We sift through everything, we might find something—”

“I can do you one better.” Ellie rummages in the cargo pockets on her suit, then pulls out a miniature hard drive. “I downloaded the compound’s entire database while trying to open the last containment tube. If he’s got other contacts, other places he’s been setting up, it should be on here.”

Your uncle takes the hard drive from Ellie’s outstretched hand with an impressed nod. “Nice. I’ll get working on this, start doing some basic search eliminations so that we aren’t wading through so much information.”

“X-Men are still involved in this,” Piotr says, speaking up for the first time since Christina punched the mirror. “Things cannot go too far off rails.”

“I’ll go along,” you say quickly when you catch the expressions that flicker across Nate’s, Wade’s, Frank’s, Mikhail’s, and Alex’s faces. “To make sure things don’t get too crazy.”

Piotr frowns. “Myshka—”

“I’m already knee-deep in this shit when it comes to Scott,” you mutter, shrugging. “No need to yank anyone else in. And you need to rest. So there.”

Piotr purses his lips, then nods towards the stairs. “Can I talk to you for moment? Please?”

***

 By the time you step over the threshold to yours and your husband’s bedroom, your stomach is in your shoes. You don’t need to see Piotr’s face to feel the disappointment, disapproval, and dissatisfaction radiating off him.

You knew it’d be coming. You’d just hoped that it would wait a little longer than this.

Piotr sits on the bed, waiting until you close the door behind you. The door latches shut, and then he lets out a sigh twice the size he is.

This fucking sucks.

“I wish I knew where to start,” he says quietly, gazing across the room at you.

“You’re upset,” you manage, throat already tight with emotion.

“I am,” Piotr confesses, still quiet. “I know you knew better. Are better.”

And there it is. Less than ten words, and he’s already got you on the verge of tapping.

“I didn’t have any other options,” you say, voice shaking. You sniff, then swallow hard and tilt your chin up. Don’t break down. Not now. “I really didn’t.”

“You always have other options, myshka. Options better than involving children and likes of Frank Castle. You could have asked X-Men for help—”

“Scott was the one on patrol monitor duty. Do you really think he gave me the time of day?”

Piotr frowns deeply. “You are X-Men. If you request assistance—”

“I’ll never be an X-Men in Scott’s eyes,” you spit out, voice breaking embarrassingly. “Look –there’s a young child missing, and she’s in the hands of a fucking maniac. Right now, that takes priority. You’re already disappointed in me—” You choke back a sob, then spread your hands in a ‘what else can I do’ gesture. “We all knew that was coming. So, let’s just leave it there, and next time I’ll try ‘extra hard to be good,’ or whatever.”

“Y/N—”

Whatever he’s going to say next you can’t bear hearing it.

You turn on your heel and all but run out of your bedroom and back downstairs.

 ***

 You catch your uncle as he leaves the dining room.

“Woah, punk –you okay?”

“Yeah,” you lie, scrubbing your face dry. “You get through everything?”

He stares at you, hard, for a long time, but ultimately drops your evident falsehood. “Yeah. Team’s in there concocting a plan right now.” He nods towards the dining room. “Should probably hop in if you want to keep tabs on shit.”

“Yeah, yeah. Look, uh, could you do me a favor?

“Sure. Name it.”

“Can you get her—” you nod towards Christina, who’s sitting on your family room couch and staring off aimlessly into space “—on one of your teams?”

Your uncle raises an eyebrow. “I thought she and your brother had bad blood.”

“I’m more worried about her daughter. If we can give her something mostly legit to do, she’s more likely to be able to keep her, and then…” Images of your childhood flash through your mind, and you swallow hard. “And then another little kid doesn’t have to spend the rest of their life with someone who hates them.”

Your uncle’s expression softens. He nods. “Yeah, punk. I’ll get her set up.”

You nod in thanks –then hug tightly before heading into the dining room. Job’s not over yet. Not by a longshot.

***

 Ellie’s mass download turns out to be more fruitful than anticipated –namely in that Essex has a righthand man that never visited the compound –to avoid potential capture if the location was compromised. A string of email communications shows that the righthand man knew about all of Essex’s secondary locations and developed the teleporter for Nathaniel.

And, with a little bit of working and some mostly illegal hacking, Nathaniel’s righthand man can be traced back to an apartment in Northern Manhattan (thank you, Micro, aka “Lieberman”).

The plan is simple. Mikhail teleports the rest of you inside the building’s stairwell to avoid being caught on camera. From there, you follow Alex, Mikhail, Nate, Wade, and Frank up to the proper floor.

Simple. Now all you have to do is execute it.

Your heart starts pounding in your throat as you follow the gaggle of assassins into the hallway. You’d agreed to come along, and you’d known that things would get… less than kosher…

But for the first time, you really take in the various guns everyone else is packing, and the body armor that Frank, Mikhail, and Alex all wear, and your stomach churns.

Dammit, Y/N, what did you just get yourself into.

Both Frank and Wade make to kick the door in –and then get yanked to the opposite wall via telekinesis.

“What, you want to alert entire floor?” Alex hisses, pulling on a pair of black leather gloves. “And get your fucking gloves on, Castle. We are not leaving prints if this guy decides to squeal.” She puts a glove hand on the doorknob, then frowns in concentration—

The door unlocks with a quiet click and swings open with a barely audible squeak.

You trail after everyone else, careful to stay outside any lines of fire—

And then everything happens in the blink of an eye.

The righthand man –Jason Cross, according to the name on the WiFi bill that Frank’s tech spook had tracked down—gets up out of his chair and makes a dive for a cell phone, only to hit the floor empty handed.

Alex summons the phone to her hand with her telekinesis, then swiftly pockets it. “Quiet, or this gets worse for you.”

“Get him in a chair,” Nate growls.

Frank, Wade, and Mikhail all rush Jason, physically picking him up and manhandling him into a wooden chair.

Mikhail pulls out a roll of duct tape from the duffel bag slung over his shoulder, then restrains Jason’s legs and arms with several loops of the stuff –all while whistling what sounds suspiciously like Katy Perry’s “California Girls.”

Because this night can’t get any weirder.

Wade rubs his gloved hands together, and the eyes on his Deadpool mask widen as he stares down at Jason. “Ah, this is gonna be fun! Whatcha feeling, baby boy? Chinese hot sauce water torture? Car battery to the nips? Poptart up the ass?”

“Why overcomplicate things,” Frank growls, voice sounding less like a human’s and more like if a pile of gravel learned how to talk. He towers over Jason, glaring down at him like Death personified. “Talk.”

Jason, to his credit, doesn’t piss his pants –though it’s probably a near thing. “L-look, man, I –I don’t know what you want, or what you’re hear for—”

“Wrong answer,” Frank snarls, then rears back and balls his hand into a fist.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!” Alex snaps, voice hushed. She bats his hand away from Jason with her telekinesis, then glares Frank down. “Eat a damn Snickers and sit the fuck down! For fuck’s sake!”

“He knows were the girl is,” Frank argues.

“And we are not going to get information if you start messing with his head –or if neighbors overhear you beating his ass. Sit down! Just –give me a minute.”

Frank scowls, but sits down on the nearest chair.

Alex lets out a huff, then starts stalking around the apartment.

You visually follow her trail as she snoops around Jason’s apartment. She does a cursory search of the kitchen, eyeing the pristine white coffee mugs all arranged with the handles facing left. She glances over the meticulously maintained coffee pot, then goes about checking through the cabinets.

“Whoa. Looks like someone’s a caffeine fiend,” Wade jokes when she opens one cabinet door to reveal several unopened bags of the same type of coffee.

Alex ignores Wade as she continues her circuit around Jason’s apartment. She eyes the immaculately white area rug and furniture, the precisely spaced pictures, and the flawlessly dusted coffee table before moving into his bedroom.

“Is there something specific we’re looking for?” Frank grumbles.

“Patience,” is Alex’s only reply. She opens the nightstand drawer, then pulls out a black leather-bound journal.

You get that sinking feeling in your stomach as you watch her flip through the journal’s pages, but stay quiet.

At this point, there’s really not much you can do to stop this ride.

Alex strides back out of the bedroom and tosses the journal onto the coffee table next to Jason, letting it land with a resounding thwap. She stares him down for a moment, then heads back to the kitchen.

“We’re looking for a missing kid,” Frank points out irritably.

“I am well aware,” Alex fires back, tone dry. She casts one more glance at Jason, then starts to shuffle through the rows of coffee cups –messing up their arrangement, touching them all over, sending the handles askew. She eyes one, coughs on it, then sets it back in the group before picking one from the back.

Jason stares after Alex, jaw clenching and unclenching feverishly. “Look, whatever it is you want—”

Alex ignores him as she withdraws the coffee pot from the machine. She turns towards the sink, then freezes halfway and sneezes into the pot.

Jason goes whiter than a sheet. “Just –look, I can’t tell you anything—”

She fills the pot with water, then sticks it in the machine. Alex tosses the already opened bag of coffee around for a moment –spilling a sprinkling of grounds on the counter and floor—before yanking one of the cabinet doors open and pulling out an unopened bag.

“Look, I –just stop!”

Alex pauses in her actions, glancing over her shoulder. “You know where the girl is.”

“I already said, I don’t know any—”

She turns away from him and rips the bag in half, sending coffee flying all over the kitchen.

Jason lets out a noise close to a sob.

Mikhail tosses a knife up and down as his mother portions out coffee grounds into a filter. “Is going long? Because, if is, I order pizza.”

Wade perks up. “Ooh, yeah! Burnt crusts and pineapple with olives!”

“No fucking pizza,” Frank growls, grimacing at Wade’s topping choices. “‘Specially not like that.”

“Terpeniye, ognennyy shar. We are just waiting for coffee to brew.”

“Betcha there’s a Postmates option that gets the pizza here faster than that.”

“Later, gorgeous,” Nate murmurs, gently squeezing his boyfriend’s hand.

Alex sets the coffee to brew, then strides into the main living area of the apartment, trailing coffee grounds with her. “Alright, we have few minutes. Let’s talk.” She fixes Jason with a stern glare when he all but lets out a shriek of agony. “You stay quiet, or I make this worse for you. Ponyal?” When his mouth screws shut, she nods and leans against a marble topped end table. “You know where the girl is. Where Essex took her.”

“Look, I don’t know—”

“Your email is listed in compound records,” Alex lists, starting tick off items on her fingers. “You own the blueprints for teleporter –which you also designed. Your journal mentions Essex by name and working with him. You have record of unethical scientific practices and aligning with agencies that promote or practice testing on mutant individuals. You know exactly why we are here and what we want, you are able to give it to us, and there is no ending in this that you do not come out fucked.” She stares him down for a minute, then shrugs. “You only control just how much it hurts.”

Jason gulps, then looks away. “Okay, look, I admit I know the guy –but if Nathaniel finds out I told you anything, he’s gonna kill me!”

“Should’ve thought about that before you sided with the guy that experiments on kids,” Frank growls.

“He’s going to kill you either way, considering we’ve been here,” Nate adds, leaning against the nearest wall. “You want to save a little girl’s life, or not?”

“You guys don’t understand,” Jason says, voice and expression suddenly earnest in a way that makes your skin crawl. “The gift this child possesses is too extraordinary to simply pass up on. The advancements that could be made for mankind are innumerable.”

“She’s a kid,” Frank snarls, finger tapping against his thigh. “Not a resource for you shitbags to exploit.”

“What even do you want her for?” Wade pipes up. “Aside from whatever sick torture porno collection the two of you are creating.”

“Subject Fifty-Eight has the ability to mimic other mutation sets and already displays remarkable ability to control and use said mutation. On her own, she could be an amazing asset in law enforcement and conflict de-escalation—”

“Which means you want to use her as a gun,” Wade surmises. “You sick cumsock.”

“It’s more than that!” Jason insists, leaning towards Wade as much as he can until the duct tape restraints stop him. “Nathaniel was making good headway on isolating the chromosome that carried the mimicry ability. If he’s able to separate it out, stabilize it, there’s not limits to what it could be used for. Soldiers and policemen with the ability to mimic fighting styles or power sets of alien opponents. Weapons with artificial intelligence interfaces that can adapt their ammunition to whatever they’re up against. Technology with programming that lets them adapt and overcome any type of malware. Vaccinations that could adapt to viruses—”

“We aren’t your ‘Godsend!’” you interrupt, crossing your arms over your chest. “Mutants aren’t a resource that you can just exploit for some type of breakthrough!”

“Not to mention, you held us against our will and put us in giant test tubes,” Wade adds furiously. “And we’re talking about a kid!”

“Sounds like dystopic book,” Mikhail interjects. “Like Hunger Games.”

“I think it’s more of a Divergent, technically—”

“I can’t let you stop the pursuit of science,” Jason says, so sincere and earnest that it’s disgusting.

You stare at him, shocked to your core. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

Mikhail turns to face his mother. “Mozhem li my prosto udarit' yego uzhe?”

“Almost.” The coffee maker beeps, and Alex strides back into the kitchen. She pours herself a cup, then walks back into the living area and sits on the couch, directly across from Jason. “Alright. Let’s try this one last time.”

Jason watches her, shifting in his seat (as much as the duct tape lets him). “Look, I already told you—”

“All you told me was a bunch of self-congratulating bullshit that, frankly, made me want to put your face through that end table,” she cuts him off, nodding at the marble end table to her right. “I’m giving you one last chance to do something other than waste my time, and then I’m personally shipping you out to a Siberian gulag, where you can spend the rest of your pathetic, disgusting days sniveling in a cold, dark cell and getting pissed on by gangsters who think you’re a fun bitch to bend over.”

As a credit to his tenacity, if not his common sense, Jason holds strong.

He gulps, and lets out a shaky breath, but shakes his head. “I can’t. I won’t.”

“For fuck’s sake, why aren’t we just breaking this shitbag?” Frank snaps, lurching up off the couch.

“Oh, we are,” Alex says, voice eerily soft and a calm, as she slowly raises the coffee cup to her lips. She maintains full eye contact with Jason as she takes a small sip—

Then she lifts the cup over the immaculate, pure white carpet, and tips it over.

Jason panics, lurching and struggling against his restraints. “No! No, no, no, no—”

The coffee stops, hovering in the air in a massive, rippling, dark brown blob.

Jason pants and gasps, eyes darting between Alex and the coffee.

Alex gently sets the empty mug down on the end table, expression completely inscrutable. She keeps her eyes locked on Jason, practically staring down into his soul.

If he has one left, you think bitterly.

Jason’s chest heaves, breaths slowly relaxing as the coffee continues to float in the air—

And then the blob begins to slowly –inexorably—pour towards the carpet.

Jason’s expression contorts into one of grief. His brow furrows. His eyes widen. His mouth strains into a grimace. His hands grip the armrests of the chair, knuckles going stark white. “Look –I can’t –I’m not—”

Alex merely raises an eyebrow –looking like the pinnacle of unimpressed—and continues to let the coffee flow sluggishly towards the ground.

Jason’s face goes deathly pale, then flushes as he starts to cry. Tears form in his eyes as he yanks at the restraints on his wrists. “Stop it… just –stop it!”

“Careful,” Alex says, voice perfectly smooth and neutral. “Struggle too hard, and you’ll knock over your chair. Might break something.”

His shoulders shake as he watches on, as he stares at a small drip of coffee that rolls down the outer edge of the blob and drops off, falling away from the liquid mass and towards the flawless white carpet—

And he breaks.

“Okay! Okay, okay, okay.”

The drop halts mere inches away from the floor.

Alex raises an eyebrow expectantly.

Jason sniffs and shudders, then hangs his head and starts talking. “The teleporter’s a prototype. It works, but it has a limited range and limited coordinate functions.”

“Useful stuff,” Alex says, voice going gravelly for the first time. “Or I’m dropping this whole cup and going back for the damn pot.”

“It’s in New Jersey. Near Cape May. There’s a second lab there that Nathaniel planned on retreating to if shit hit the fan.”

“And he’ll be there? With the girl?”

“Unless he’s decided to take her somewhere else, yeah.” Jason sniffs. “It’s the only other place he has that has the equipment he needs.”

Alex narrows her eyes. “Coordinates.”

“There’s a flash drive in my safe, underneath my bed. It has a backup of all the information and programming for the teleporter, in case the thing wiped itself clean.”

“Encryption?”

“Yeah; Nathaniel was paranoid about opposition from other companies and scientists. I can—”

“We’ll manage,” Alex interrupts him briskly. “Security measures on the safe?”

“There’s an alarm wired to the door that texts Nathaniel’s phone when it’s opened without the proper code.”

Alex nods at Mikhail. “Cut the back open.” She goes back to staring at Jason, bracing her elbows on her knees. “Security measures at the compound in Cape May.”

Jason squirms. “Look, I’ve already told you—” He lets out a pained whine when the coffee mass drops two inches, then starts talking once more. “It’s pretty spare. We couldn’t afford to have it equipped like the New York one. There’s some cameras, maybe three or four moderately armed guards, and some lockdown functions on the lab doors and windows, but that’s it.”

Alex watches him for a few moments longer, then turns her attention to everyone else. “Anyone else have questions?”

Frank scowls and shakes his head. He lurches off the couch, stalking towards the bedroom where the sounds of Mikhail cutting through the safe drone on. “Broke for a fucking carpet. Disgusting son of a bitch.”

Nathan shakes his head when Alex looks at him. “I’ve heard everything I need to hear.”

You pass on asking any questions, which only leaves Wade—

Who is staring off into space, fists clenched at his side.

You look at Nathan –who shakes his head—then back to Alex. “I… think we’re all set?”

Jason lets out a whimper when Alex collects the coffee back into the cup –mass, single drop, and all—then crumples as much as his restraints let him. “So, what are you going to do with me now?”

Alex shrugs. “Nothing.”

He frowns. “What?”

“Well, you said it yourself,” Alex says. “Essex will kill you just for ratting him out. We don’t have to do anything.”

Jason sputters, mouth opening and closing as he stares at Alex. “I—”

“I mean, look at you,” she continues, smiling enough to show a hint of teeth. “There’s not even a mark on you. Your apartment’s in one piece. All we really did was tape you to a chair and just… talk to you.” Her smile grows as Jason’s expression morphs to one of horror. “You broke for a carpet. If he doesn’t kill you for that, I’d be amazed.”

Jason’s chin trembles as tears roll down his cheeks.

Alex smirks, stands, takes a sip coffee, then grimaces. “You have shit taste in coffee.” She chucks the cup against the nearest wall –which elicits another groan from Jason—then peers into the bedroom. “Ognennyy shar! Skol'ko dol'she?”

“Uzhe sdelano!” The sound of the safe-cutting stops, followed by some rustling noises, and then Mikhail appears in the living room. He tosses the flash drive to Nathan. “Here goes.”

Nate catches it, then raises an eyebrow at the manila folder and envelopes in Mikhail’s other hand. “What are those?”

“Identity thieving.” He crams them in his duffel bag, then nods at Jason. “What do with him?”

Alex makes a ‘hmm-ing’ noise, then glances over at Jason—

Who promptly passes out.

“What did you do to him?” you ask.

“Pressure point and telekinesis.”

“And we’re just leaving him here?” Frank growls, emerging from the bedroom. “Letting him walk away?”

“With any luck, Essex will handle him for us,” Alex says, dropping the empty coffee mug in the kitchen sink. “If he doesn’t, we take things from there.”

You gulp. You know you should protest the idea of executing another human being –on some level, you want to, the justice system exists for a reason—

But you also know there won’t be any swaying any of the people around you. And… you doubt the world would mourn the loss of someone that broke for a damn carpet.

“Alright, we’re done here,” Alex declares as she strides towards the front door. “Let’s go.”

***

 “What the fuck was that?”

You’re all back at the van –which was parked a few miles away from Jason’s apartment—stationed around it while you all wait for Frank to finish his argument with his “tech spook” and for the flash drive to be unencrypted. Frank’s at the open tailgate, doubled over a laptop while grumbling into a shitty flip-phone. Mikhail and Nate are going what the former lifted from Jason’s safe, and Alex—

Is currently being glared down by one very, very irate Wade Wilson.

He has his mask off, which is the biggest tip off that he’s genuinely furious and not just making an argument for the sake of making an argument. The dim lighting and the scars covering his skin cast his face in shadows, but it isn’t hard to miss the sound of his ragged breathing, the way he keeps clenching and unclenching his fists, or how his body is so tensely coiled that it seems like he’s only three seconds away from physically lashing out at Alexandra.

Everything goes silent –save for Frank’s frustrated muttering—as you all glance between the two assassins.

Alex, to her credit, seems none too ruffled. She blinks slowly, raises an eyebrow, and calmly crosses her arms over her chest. “In regards to what?”

“That fucking interrogation!” Wade snaps, sounding almost like a feral dog. “You said we were going in there to squeeze this guy until he coughed up his juices, and then you just –you just—”

“Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.” She shrugs. “Evident from the state of his apartment, his reactions to his order and cleanliness being disrupted, and the journal entries talking about his therapy sessions for the condition.”

“You fucking—”

“I got results,” Alex states. “Without alerting neighbors, authorities, or leaving a trail of evidence that would lead back to us or X-Men.” She raises an eyebrow. “You have problems with that?”

“Oh, I have fucking problems,” Wade seethes. “You don’t just… you don’t just force your way into someone’s brain and turn it fucking inside out! You don’t use something against them that they can’t help or control!”

Even Frank’s staring now, having stopped his quiet swearing and arguing.

“How many therapy sessions do you think this guy is gonna have to go through, now, just undo everything you did to him? You don’t –you don’t just—”

“Presuming he lives that long,” Alex interjects, leaning against the side of the van, “that is not my problem.”

Wade shakes his head vehemently, mouth twisting into a scowl. “We’re not supposed to be that. We bend the rules, we’re morally gray, but we do not sink to the bad guy’s level.”

Alex stares at Wade for a long time before finally speaking. “If you think you’re the first man who has problems with how I operate—”

“It has nothing to do with me being a man!” Wade shouts. “It has everything to do with you emotionally manipulating that shitbag on stuff that he can’t help and can systemically destroy his mental well-being! You beat the shit out of them, you make them piss their pants in fear, but you don’t purposefully look for their weakest spot and keep beating on it until they have nothing left to give you!”

Silence falls, save for the sound of taxis honking and various sirens in the distance.

Nathan steps towards Wade, gently putting his arms around him while Wade gasps and shakes. “Easy, sweetheart. Deep breaths.”

“Semantics of the ‘ethics of interrogation’ aside,” Alex continues once Wade catches his breath, “you are not the first person who takes issue with how I operate. Our goal tonight was covert operation and quick answers. I did both. That nets a win.”

Wade shakes his head against Nate’s shoulder. “You can’t.”

“You don’t want to. I don’t take issue with it.” She shrugs. “Next time we have to do something similar, we stick you on lookout duty instead. Simple.”

You swallow hard as silence stretches on once more, gaze darting between Wade and Alex as the two stare each other down—

And then Frank’s phone starts yelling.

Frank blinks, then lifts his phone’s speaker to his ear. “Yeah, I’m here… dammit, Lieberman, why didn’t you say you were fucking done? …yeah, yeah…” He crouches and peers at the laptop screen, where there’s a few different folders open. “Alright, what are we looking at?”

***

 The secondary compound is markedly smaller than the first. It’s fairly non-descript, planted in the center of a vast, weed-choked, otherwise abandoned parking lot.

“Used to be a pharmaceutical processing center,” Nate says as scans the warehouse through a pair of night vision binoculars. “Records say that Essex bought it through a third-party once they shut down due to budget cuts.”

“Good for him,” Frank grumbles as he sips down a cup of coffee. “How do we crack this place open?”

“Should be able to break in through the South entrance,” Nate reasons. “It’s the least defensible from the inside. Get in, gun our way to the lab.”

You drink from your own cup of coffee as you mull your dad’s suggestion over –it’s three in the morning, and it’s only going to get rougher from here on out—then shake your head. “No. We can’t risk losing Madeline.”

“She’s right,” Alex chimes in. “Going in ‘guns blazing’ will alert everyone and give Essex time to escape.”

“Anything we do is going to alert him,” Nate huffs. “The lab has security camera feeds that let him see the whole base. At this point, it’s about speed.”

“Unless we draw him out,” Wade suggests.

Silence falls over the group as you all consider the idea.

“How would we do that?” Nathan asks.

“Like you said, he has the camera feeds,” Wade explains. “So, figure out where the cameras are, and send out a ‘bait team’ to trigger them and bring him out. Then, while they have Essex distracted, the rest of us go in and save Madeline.”

“Is good idea,” Mikhail agrees after a moment of thought.

Nathan considers, then nods. “Alright. Let’s do this.”

***

 “Do you really think he’s gonna come out here to fight us?”

You’d teamed up with Alex and Nate to distract Essex, leaving Frank, Wade, and Mikhail to extract Madeline from the compound.

At the time, it’d seemed like a good idea.

But now, as you’re strolling up to the warehouse-style building, in full view of any cameras and with no other cover, you’re starting to have second thoughts.

“He’ll come,” Nate says, charging up his gun.

There’s an undercurrent to his voice –tension, anger, you’re not sure what—that makes you think he knows more about this situation than he’s letting on—

But then there’s a flash of light, and Nathaniel’s standing less than twenty feet away from you, and you don’t have time to second guess anything else.

“You really thought that splitting up would work?” He smirks, self-assured. “Like I don’t already have your whole plan figured out.”

“Working so far,” Nathan grits out, setting his sights on Essex. “You’re out here.”

Nathaniel’s smirk broadens into an arrogant, borderline crazed grin –and then whips his hand to his left.

A rusted metal shipping container, long since left discarded by the previous owners, scrapes across the pavement as it moves towards you three. It picks up speed, moving faster and faster, until it’s practically hurtling towards you.

You gasp and crouch, split seconds away from grabbing your dad and Alex and flying for it—

And then Alex flicks her hand –deftly, casually—at the container.

It stops in its tracks, crumpling in on itself like an empty Pepsi can.

Nathaniel stares at her, mouth gaping in awe and horror.

Alex glares mutely at him, stalking across the parking lot towards him before pulling out her own gun and opening fire.

Nathaniel erects a telekinetic shield to deflect the bullets, then reaches for the teleporter mounted on his wrist.

Before he can touch it, though, Alex flicks out a thin cord of energy from her hand, wraps it around his upper body, then flings him across the parking lot.

Nathaniel grunts as he tumbles along the ground, teleporter sparking when it smacks into the hard pavement. He rolls to his feet, tapping at the device’s display screen, then curses when it doesn’t work before launching more scattered debris at Alexandra.

You watch, somewhat awestruck, as Alex deftly dodges the various projectiles as she charges Essex once more. “You think she’s got that covered?”

“Here’s fucking hoping,” Nate grunts as several black-clad, well-armed men sprint out of the nearest entrance to the warehouse.

The fight becomes less of a ‘fight’ and more of a ‘dodge the multiple flying chunks of metal’ challenge as you and Nathan try to take down Essex’s hired muscle and Alex deals with Nathaniel himself.

You yelp as you duck a straight blast of energy from Alex, which goes on to score out a chunk of the asphalt behind you. You try to fly into the air to avoid getting hit by anything else –then nearly get taken out by a spray of gunfire from one of the guys Nathan’s chasing down.

You’re in over your head. You’re in way over your head. This is so far above your pay grade it’s not even funny anymore. You can handle the various scrapes the X-Men get into, and you’ve managed to come out on top in a few rougher fights than that, but trying to keep pace with literal professional soldiers and assassins is a step too far for you. Several steps too far.

Get home to Piotr, you chant in your head, like a mantra. Get home to Piotr, get home to Piotr, get home to Piotr.

You unleash a whirlwind of air, knocking several gun-bearing men away from you.

Get home to Piotr.

You bounce away from what sounds like a grenade going off, sailing through the air and dodging pieces of shrapnel as best you can as you go.

Get home to Piotr.

Something hits you hard in the back, and you plummet to the ground with a choked grunt. The pavement is none too forgiving to your comparatively fragile, fleshy body; pain sparks in your head and your right knee, alerting you to their discontent with being abused like this.

Your vision goes blurry, and the world slows for a minute as you try to get your bearings back about you.

Get… home…

“…hardly even a challenge.”

You look up, and see Nathaniel Essex standing over you.

He’s grinning nastily, which only further offset by the blood caked to the side of his face. He flicks his hand, and sends you tumbling across the ground once more. “I know the X-men have low standards for fighting capabilities, but this is depressing, even for them.”

Get home… to…

You stagger to your feet, gritting your teeth together as your head and knee throb in vengeful unison. Your stomach drops when you think of Alexandra –granted, your vision’s blurred, but you can’t see her anywhere—but you quickly push it aside when Nathaniel launches a steel beam at you.

He has the decency to look somewhat impressed when you bat it away with an air shield. “Not bad.”

Before you can think, you feel an invisible hand close around your neck, shutting your airflow off as it lifts you off the ground.

“But not good enough.”

You claw at the invisible force –not that it does any good. Your feet kick and thrash as you cough and sputter—

And slowly, the world goes dim.

Piotr.

I’m sorry.

Your face throbs, pulse slowing as you begin to pass out—

No.

Absolutely. Not.

I refuse to go out to this jackass.

With your last bit of consciousness, you force yourself to stop struggling against the pressure around your neck and focus instead on the air around you –to do something with it, anything.

You manage to create a shockwave, sending it out in all directions around you—

It’s enough.

You drop to the ground as Nathaniel goes flying –hitting your other knee in the process, because that would be just your luck—gasping and sobbing as oxygen flows back into your lungs and body. Your ears are ringing slightly, and you throat feels like you’ve been drinking sandpaper—

Get home to Piotr.

You’re alive. Now you just need to do something with it.

You get to your feet, vision swimming as your eyes adjust from having hit your head and then nearly been strangled, but you manage to make out Nathaniel, groaning and laying a few yards away from you.

Get home to Piotr.

You clumsily unleash another blast of air at him, shoving him further away from you and getting a few good, pained swear words out of him for your efforts. You stumble to the side, then gear up to hit him again—

A flash of brilliant, golden energy slams into Nathaniel, rocketing him across the lot and into one of the warehouse walls. A few seconds later, it’s followed by a none too happy Alexandra, who storms after Nathaniel like the human equivalent of a particularly angry swan with a gun.

Seeing that Alex has Nathaniel well handled, you opt to drop down to your knees –hurting both of them this time, fan-fucking-tastic—then crumple against the asphalt on your side and curl into a ball.

Get home to Piotr. Get home to Piotr. Get home to—

A pair of hands grip underneath your armpits, and then someone hauls you to your feet.

“Come on, Rasputin,” Frank grunts, steadying you as you whine and curse. “We’re not done yet.”

“I am,” you mutter. “Hit my head.”

“Yeah, that’s probably why you’re bleeding.”

“Shit.”

A few feet away, you can see Mikhail handling the last of the gunmen, while Wade sprints clear of the fracas, holding a crying little girl in his arms.

Further away, you can make out Nathan and Alex, who’re working on taking down Essex.

You squint, then let out a frustrated sigh when that does nothing to clear your vision. “Who’s winning?”

“Your guy’s mom,” Frank says, sounding somewhat… amused? Impressed? It’s impossible to tell, with him. “She’s uh… she’s pretty much stomping him.”

There’s a few more flashes of Alex’s energy powers, accompanied by the tell-tale sound of your dad’s “future gun”—

And then there’s a flash of white light, and everything goes silent.

Dread sinks in your stomach. “He’s gone, isn’t he?”

Frank lets out an irritated grunt that confirms your fears.

“Okay,” Wade says as he gently rocks Madeline back and forth. “Who pressed the Staples’ button?”

Mikhail looks around for any sign of Essex, then looks to his mother. “Chto teper'?”

“Now, Alexandra sighs as she flicks the safety for her rifle on, “we go home.”

“What about Essex?” Mikhail asks.

“He will surface again, eventually. For now—” she nods at Madeline “—we get her back to mother.”

You raise your hand. “Question: does this mean I can pass out now?”

 ***

 The ride home –since Mikhail’s too tired to teleport everyone and the van you’ve been using back to Xavier’s—is exhausting. By the time you reach the school, the sun’s already rising into the sky.

The process of going through the medical checks –which takes even longer for you, since you have a definite concussion—is excruciating. You’re past running on fumes; all you want is a hot shower, a warm bed, and to not be interrupted for about seven to twelve hours.

It’s all worth it when you see Madeline dash into her mother’s arms. For all your misgivings against Christina –and, considering what she did to Wade, there’s plenty—there’s no denying that she and her daughter have a good bond.

Your uncle intercepts you as you trudge up the porch steps, steadying you as he guides you towards the door. “We’ve got her—” he points discreetly at Christina, who’s still hugging Madeline “—step up. She and her kid should be safe.”

You nod, too weary for words, then make to enter your home—

Except Christina stops you, quickly ushering Maddie inside while your uncle leaves to talk to Nathan and Frank. She steps between you and the door, gaze darting between your uncle and you. “Who the hell is he?” he hisses, jerking her chin towards your uncle. “And why did you even help me? He told me you asked him to set me up with… basically everything?” She narrows her eyes at you, regarding you with hostile suspicion. “The fuck are you trying to pull?”

You want to say something about morals and doing the right thing, about taking the high road, about mutants needing to stand together regardless of their respective pasts…

What comes out, though, is, “My parents paid a telepath to remove my mutant abilities, and all it wound up doing me was nearly killing me and left permanent psychic scarring on my brain.”

Christina blanches, blinking repeatedly. “…Shit.”

You shrug. “Pretty much. Look, your daughter needs a safe space to grow up in, and despite my vast misgivings against you… it’s clear that the two of you love and trust each other. As far as I’m concerned, I did all this for your daughter, so that…” You throat constricts with emotion, and you swallow hard before pressing on. “So that she wouldn’t have to endure the kind of childhood I had.” You sigh, wipe away a few stray tears, then level Christina with an exhausted glare. “Let’s be clear, though –you hurt Wade again, and I’ll fly you out to the middle of the fucking ocean and drop you there.”

Christina rolls her eyes. “Ooh, I’m so scared.”

“Whatever. Please get out of my way so I can go take a fucking shower.”

She smirks, but steps aside nonetheless.

You sigh heavily, then finally step into your home.

Somewhere during the period when you were gone, Illyana and Nikolai showed up –and brought Karen Page with them, too. They, in tandem with Piotr, are monopolizing your kitchen, making breakfast for everyone.

You wait until everyone else from the “rescue group” files into your house, then use the distraction of everyone being reunited to slip upstairs unnoticed. You beeline straight for the bathroom in yours and Piotr’s bedroom, shucking your clothes as you go, then step into the shower and turn the water on full blast.

You can barely keep your eyes open. The only thing that’s keeping you from curling up and going to sleep in this shower is that you don’t fancy the thought of drowning… or accidentally plugging the drain with your foot, flooding the basin, and soaking the bathroom floor.

(You’d been sick; it’d been an accident.)

You do the bare minimum to get yourself clean, then shut off the water and sag against the tile wall. It’s a full five minutes before you can convince yourself to get out of the shower, and even then it’s with a great deal of mental swearing and complaining.

You get dry, find some pajamas (which are really just one of Piotr’s shirts and a pair of clean underwear), then crawl onto the end of your bed and curl up under the throw blanket you keep there for decorative purposes.

And, finally, sleep claims you.

 ***

 You get all of five minutes before the door to yours and your husband’s bedroom opens.

“Myshka.”

You groan and crawl further under the throw blanket. “Y/N is not available right now. Please leave a message at the sound of the ‘fuck.’”

Piotr laughs softly, and you can hear a plate and a glass clatter against his nightstand before the soft, rustling sounds of the blankets and pillows being moved fill your ears. “Come on, moya lyubov’. Breakfast is—”

“I will jam a pancake up your ass.”

He laughs again –then gently cradles you in his arms and sets you at the top of the bed, against a pile of pillows. He sets a warm plate of food in your lap, then sets a fork and knife on the top edge of the plate. “You need to eat, myshka. You have had long night.”

You groan, reluctantly pry one eye open, then sigh resignedly when you see a stack of chocolate chip pancakes, a helping of bacon, two slices of banana bread, and a heap of hash browns. “Carbs. You would know the way to my heart.”

“I would hope so.” He sits next to you on the bed, takes your hand in his, and kisses your bruised knuckles. “You are moya zhena, after all.”

He looks better than when you rescued him from Essex’s clutches. He’s showered, shaved, put on fresh clothes, combed his hair. There’s still shadows under his eyes and a bruise on his cheek, but he looks more like the Piotr you know and love.

You lift your hand to gently rub your thumb along the swell of his cheek, skirting the edge of his bruise –but then your low mood catches up with you, and you drop your hand and look down at your breakfast plate. “You don’t have to stay with me. I know you probably don’t want to.”

You can hear the frown in his voice when he speaks. “Why… why would I not want to be with you?”

“Because you’re ashamed of me,” you eke out, fighting back tears.

Piotr sighs heavily, then leans over and kisses your temple. “I am not ashamed of you. I love you. And… I owe you apology.”

“Apology?” You frown, then set your plate aside before looking up at him. “For what?”

“For not standing up for you more, to Scott.” He grimaces. “Ellie told me what happened. How Scott treated you.”

“That –that’s not your fault, Piotr,” you protest. “Scott’s an asshole because he wants to be; you’re not responsible for his dickotry.”

“Perhaps not—”

“And I can stand up for myself,” you add, eager to soothe his worries. “It’s –it’s not your job to have to do that for me. I’m more than capable of standing up for myself, I promise.”

He smiles softly, then kisses the back of your hand. “I know. It is nothing about ‘capable’ or ‘job.’ I… I know he picks at you. And others. And perhaps it is because I am complacent or non-confrontational, but… I do nothing. And that is not okay. And for that, I am sorry. I am sorry I have not protected you better, and I hope you can forgive me.”

You sniff, then wipe away the tears trailing down your cheeks. “Of course, I can forgive you, sweetheart. I…” You sniff again, and –finding yourself at a loss for words—repeat yourself. “I forgive you, Piotr. Always.”

“Spasibo, moya serdste.” He kisses your forehead, letting his lips linger for a moment, then leans back to rub at his own damp eyes. “Ellie also told me about… conversation she and you had before rescue mission. About position she and others put you in. We had long talk about respecting authority and listening to those with more experience; she wants to apologize, once you are ready.”

You let out a shaky breath, then nod. “I think I want to sleep first.”

“Konechno. After breakfast.”

You laugh wetly and roll your eyes. “Yes, fine, after breakfast, you big dad.”

He chuckles along with you, then none-too-subtly sets your plate back in your lap. “Shoe fits, I wear. Plate in front of you… you eat?”

You laugh at the adorable, impossibly hopeful look he gives you, then heap up some hash browns and pancake on your fork and shove the bite in your mouth. “There. Happy?”

“Immensely.” He hands you the glass of orange juice he brought up, but it slowly ebbs as he watches you eat, contemplation evident in his expression. “Why… why did you think… that I was disappointed in you?”

“Is this your way of saying you weren’t?” you ask tiredly.

He purses his lips, then sighs heavily. “Initially, I was… frustrated. And small bit disappointed. But once I understood,” Piotr says, angling his head to catch your gaze until you relent and look him in the eye, “I was not disappointed with you in slightest. I know you. I know you are not needlessly reckless. I know you would not carelessly put Ellie, or Russell, or Yukio in such dangerous position.”

“But you thought I was. Reckless and careless.”

“It looked that way, but I knew it was not you,” he says, sincere. “And I knew that you had to be desperate to turn to Mr. Castle, I just… did not have all pieces. So, again, why did you believe I was disappointed in you?”

“Because why wouldn’t you be?” You set your fork down, chest tight with hurt and sorrow and regret. “I –I failed! I couldn’t do things the ‘right’ way, I asked a vigilante and a –a murder for help, I couldn’t –I couldn’t keep Ellie and Russell and Yukio out of it—”

“You did your best,” Piotr says softly. He sets the plate back on the bed and draws you into his arms when you start crying again. “You knew that we were in danger –that child was in danger—and you had no help, so you went and found it.”

“But –but Ellie—”

“Put you in unfair position and did not respect your authority, so you did what you could to keep her and Russell and Yukio safe,” he murmurs, kissing the top of your head. “You did your best, myshka. And that is something I am very proud of.”

You burst into sobs, relief pouring over you, washing away the grief and hurt and self-loathing you’d held in over the course of the night. You cling to him, clenching the material of his shirt in your fists as you shake and sniff and whimper.

And Piotr holds you. Rocks you back and forth. Whispers how much he loves you and how proud he is of you and kisses your hair and the bridge of your nose and your tear-streaked cheeks.

Eventually, you calm down. You catch your breath, inhaling and exhaling shakily as your husband rocks you back and forth. You lay your head on his shoulder, blinking the last of the tears away. “She’s right, you know.”

“Who is?”

“Ellie. About being an adult. We won’t be able to… to tell her what to do forever.”

“Nyet,” Piotr agrees, kissing your forehead gently. “But this is different. And she understands that now.”

You let out a shaky breath, then hug your husband tightly. “I love you, baby.”

He hugs you back just as tight. “And I love you, myshka.”

You tip your head back so you can kiss him, then let out a contented, relieved sigh when he presses his lips against yours.

You’re okay.

[sebseyesandbuckysthighs]

Three Soldiers and a Baby | Part Six

summary: Three handsome bachelors find their day to day operations disrupted when an unexpected new roommate (who comes complete with a diaper and a pacifier) shows up at their doorstep. How will they deal with this new and baffling responsibility without losing their minds or killing each other in the process?

pairings: Bucky x Reader (eventual) featuring Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson

warnings: none

a/n: And here we have part 6! Will the boys find out more about the mystery mama? When will Bucky return from his mission? Who knows! Okay, I know, but you will too soon enough! I appreciate y’all for reading this series and for those of you who have enjoyed it, I hope you like this next part and are excited for what comes next! ❤

*warning to mobile users, the “keep reading” tab may not work so apologies in advance*

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

| previously |

Sam smiled down at his slumbering friend, taking pity on him for having done his fair share of the work with little Ellie. After a handful of seconds he was done taking pity on him, though, and moved to grab Steve by the shoulders and shake him awake.

“Wake your ass up. We’ve still got work to do if this kid is gonna be interrupting our typical daily operations.”

“Thanks, Sam.” Steve said with an unappreciative groan, wiping his hands down his tired face. “Okay, what’s first.”

Sam looked down at his friend then to the cute sleeping baby. He noticed the letter was still open on the coffee table and grabbed it.

“First,” he said. “We gotta find out who the baby mama is and what kind of trouble she’s in.”

———————————————————————

Steve realized it wasn’t going to be easy to find out more about someone who had somehow managed to get into their "highly secured" penthouse level apartment to drop off the baby and then leave without anyone noticing. Though, that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try. He was a persistent bastard. 

“Alright, what do we know about her?” Sam asked, pacing the living room space as Steve remained seated on the recliner. “What’s her name again?”

“It’s Ellie.” Steve said obnoxiously, as though it shouldn’t even be a question at this point. Sam stopped moving and looked to his friend incredulously.

“Not the kid, Steve. The woman! What’s the name of the woman in the letter. Pay attention, man!” 

“Oh. Right,” Steve mumbled, a light dusting of pink now covering his cheeks. He knew this would be hard, but he wasn’t expecting to be wiped out this early in the game. In his defense, he thought, it had been a long day. Reaching for the letter slowly so as not to wake the sleeping child, Steve read over it again one more time, just for good measure. This time paying a little more attention to the name signed at the bottom of the page. It was a name Steve couldn’t place no matter how much he tried or how far he looked back in his memory. He spoke your name aloud to Sam to see if maybe he would know. At first, Sam was just as confused as he was. The name didn’t seem to ring any bells for him either.

“Wait!” Sam exclaimed suddenly, and admittedly, startling poor Steve. “That’s it!”

Before Steve could question him or scold him for being loud enough to wake the baby, Sam was off running towards the hallway where their bedrooms were. At this point Steve had risen to his feet as well. His first instinct was to go and follow Sam wherever he went in a rush, but with Ellie sleeping mere feet away, Steve’s more acute instincts told him it would be better to wait here. He just didn’t want to leave her alone.

“Sam!” Steve called out in the loudest whisper he would dare. It was a miracle Sam’s outburst didn’t cause Ellie to stir and Steve wasn’t about to risk it a second time. After an eternity, that really only lasted three minutes, Sam came back and he wasn’t empty handed. It took a moment to process what he was holding and when the realization hit him, Steve was horrified.

“Those are Bucky’s journals!” he said in the same whisper-yell as before. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Sam? How did you even find those?”

Sam waved him off without looking away from the pages he was turning. “I saw him hiding them one day and I tucked that little bit of information away for a rainy day. Today, my friend, is that rainy day.”

Steve looked out the windows and frowned. “But it’s perfectly sunny outside.”

Sam rolled his eyes and growled. “Metaphorically, Cap. I meant that metaphorically. What’s the matter with you?”

Steve blushed again. He was really off his game right now. “Whatever. You know Bucky’s gonna kill you when he finds out you read his stuff.”

“He’s not gonna do a damn thing.” Sam stopped reading to look at Steve with a serious expression. “Not after we’re cleaning up his mess. Besides,” Sam said quietly, “I’m gonna be the one to kill him first for getting us mixed up in this situation in the first place.” 

Of course, Steve had heard that last part, but now wasn’t the time to argue as he watched Sam look through the notebooks in his hands. The front covers were titled with dates from when he started the notebook to when he finished it. From where Steve was standing he could make out that these books were all from the beginning of the year before and some time before that. After some quick calculations in his mind, Steve realized that that was around the time that Bucky was seeing that mystery girl. It didn’t take a genius to realize that she was the mother of Ellie.

“No wonder he was so busy last year,” Steve said, looking down at the sleeping baby girl. It was still a wonder to him that his best friend was together with a woman for so long and together they had a baby he didn’t even know about yet. 

Sam’s scoff brought his attention back to the man and the journals. “Oh he got busy alright.”

“Sam, please.” Steve was tired enough as it was, he didn’t need Sam’s lude comments. “Just tell me what you can find out from that.” 

“You mean from this chicken scratch that Barnes considers penmanship?” Sam asked mockingly before turning back to the pages and skimming through the words as best he could. “Well it looks like Barnes got some ‘splaining to do.” Sam passed the notebook over to Steve and pointed to a specific passage.

“Shit,” Steve swore. “No wonder he wouldn’t introduce her to us. They were never supposed to be involved in the first place,” he said gravelly. 

It all started to click in Steve’s mind now, even the name of the woman from the note. She was a civilian from a past mission they all went on together. She was a hostage taken by agents of A.I.M. and used to negotiate with. She ended up taking out the agent holding her for ransom all by herself, not having taken too kindly to being manhandled and used. She even placed a good few swift kicks to that agents groin for good measure. It started to make sense now as to why Bucky stuck around back then to take her in for medical care and incident debriefing afterwards.

Steve kept flipping through the pages of the notebook and found dozens of sketches, all of the same face. First it had freaked him out to realize that his best friend had quite the secret artistic talent. Second was that with this little portrait Steve was instantly able to confirm that the face on the page, the name on the note, all belonged to one woman. The same woman from that mission and the mother of Bucky Barnes’ baby. You. 

Being a victim from a past mission complicated things for his best friend, though. There was to be no fraternization between victims and SHIELD agents or Avengers. It was a little bewildering that Steve didn’t pick up on it sooner with the way Bucky had been acting last year. They knew that he was seeing someone, he had confirmed only that much, but they never thought it strange that Bucky never really left the apartment in order to actually meet anyone new. The only time he would ever interact with anyone aside from their teammates and friends was when they were out on missions saving people. That paired with the fact that he was so keen on finding out about the girl who saved herself and if she would be okay being briefed by just any other agent. Steve now remembered that Bucky had even volunteered to do the briefing himself and that they had talked for hours.

“Can’t believe we didn’t notice it back then. He never stuck around for that stuff.” Sam realized.

“I guess so. Dammit.” Steve muttered under his breath. “No wonder he wouldn't introduce us to her. They were never supposed to be involved in the first place.”

As the day went on, Ellie would wake up from her naps only to be fed and to be changed. It wasn’t easy, but both men found themselves falling easily into a routine as the sun went down.

“So this is for real then?” Sam said just as they put Ellie to sleep in her bassinet for hopefully the last time before morning. “This is really happening?”

“Looks that way, pal,” Steve confirmed. “I don’t think anyone is coming to get this little girl.”

Sam nodded solemnly, the full gravity of the situation still bearing it’s burden down on him. “We gotta tell someone, man. We can’t do this ourselves.”

He didn’t even consider thinking about it, Steve was not about to risk anyone else getting involved with this. “We can’t Sam. This is on us. At least for now. When Bucky gets back–”

“He’s a dead man?” Sam interrupted.

“Among other things, yeah pretty much.”

———————————————————————

Feedback is always appreciated, leave it here!

———————————————————————

part five << part six >> part seven

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Series Masterlist

Full Masterlist

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[skookworks]

Gallery – Half Hour Sketches 31 to 60

From last year, the second set of thirty daily/half hour sketches. Do you have any favorites?

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Story Seed #45 A Bad Seed Blooms

Karren was always a difficult child. Demanding, clingy, prone to throwing tantrums when she didn’t get her way. Dealing with her on a daily basis was enough to convince her parents that they didn’t want to have another child. Yes she was often charming. Yes she was usually very entertaining and she could seem very loving but, damn, she was awfully narcissistic.

When Karren was eight, her mother became pregnant (their contraception method failed) and her parents decided that they’d keep the baby. Karren would adapt, she’d have to. Right? And for a while it seemed like Karren would. She was delighted by the idea of having a sibling. She had fun playing nursemaid and helper to her mother and she revelled in the appreciation that her parents showed her for her new attitude.

The baby came, a little sister. Karren played doting big sister, giving cuddles, helping with bottles and rocking her to sleep. But, her parents had less attention for her and got crankier form lack of sleep, the old Karren resurfaced. She was jealous of the baby, angry that it just wouldn’t behave. Her play became meaner and rougher. One morning her mother caught her holding a pillow over the baby’s face. She wasn’t trying to kill the baby, she was just trying to make it stop crying, she didn’t know what she was doing, did she?

Her parents made arrangements to send Karren to a boarding school. Until she could depart her parents never left her alone with the baby and they locked her room at night.

Two days before Karren was to depart her mother took her and the baby to run errands. Karren had been behaving. She seemed contrite. Maybe safe? As they returned to the house their car was blocked in by a pair of black SUVs and armed men pulled them from the vehicle.

Karren’s parents were comfortably upper middle class. Karren’s grandfather, her father’s father, was rich and had made a lot of enemies getting that way. The kidnappers were in the employ of a Russian gangster that Grandfather had doublecrossed.

Karren, her mother and her little sister are taken to a remote location. Karen’s mother is forced to record a ransom plea. Karren pouts, Karren yells, Karren is not a cooperative hostage. The kidnappers beat her, tie her up, cut off one of her little fingers and send it with the ransom demand.

Karren’s father is in shock and desperate. Grandfather is disappointed. His son was always a weak thing. Grandfather harrumphs and takes charge. He has his security chief put together a team to rescue the kidnapped mother and her girls. But Grandfather didn’t get rich by giving a shit about anyone but himself. The team is to rescue the family if it’s convenient but it’s more important to him that they kill as many of the Russians as they can. The “girls” are expendable.

And Karren? Karren is very, very mad. Her parents could be boring. Her parents could be strict. Her parents often spoiled her fun. But they’d never hit her. They’d never hurt her. And now these smelly men have dared to hurt HER and threaten HER mother and HER little sister?

Karren is clever. Karren will get out of her bounds. Karren will make them all very, very sorry.

Recommendation

I am behind on my newsletters. I have a virtual stack of them waiting to be read and, at the moment, I can’t remember which ones I’ve already recommended. So this week I’m recommending a youtube channel: Cartoonist Kayfabe. Jim Rugg and Ed Piskor are veteran comics creators and they regular post a lot of videos about comics. I’ll let them introduce themselves –

Local News

I don’t have heroes. When I was a kid I kept discovering that the folks my history classes promoted as role models were often pretty horrible people. Even the ones the weren’t horrible were usually … human. That is, they weren’t necessarily nice, they weren’t always faithful and they often did things that were sloppy and stupid. As a kid, I was looking for perfect heroes to model myself after and real humans just kept failing provide me with the examples I wanted.

As I grew up I came to admire the people who stood up, who took action to make the world a better place, regardless of whether they were also shitty spouses, terrible parents or lousy friend. Rather, I’ve learned to admire the noble actions they took and accept that the rest of their lives and behaviors were probably pretty messy.

I’ve been following and reading Warren Ellis‘s work since I encountered his columns at 9th Art back in the 90s. I posted some art in the Remake/Remodel challenges in the FreakAngels forums. I found a lot of interesting newsletters (and was inspired to do this one) because he recommended them.  I don’t get many regular comics these days but I did pay attention to what he had coming out next. I mostly heard about that when I read his latest newsletter. I only heard about the controversy when he posted his last one. This essay gives the pertinent details with links to more info.

Of all the bad actors who have come in to light in the last few years, Ellis is the first one whose work really matters to me. After a few days passage I’m still … I don’t know. I believe the women. You don’t get 30 or more artists to agree on something unless there is truth there. And they’ve got the emails. (And being a whistleblower is never about money unless you’re already rich and famous. Being a poor whistleblower means you, at best, become a famous and poor whistleblower. Anyone who thinks that someone calls out injustice for fame and glory and wealth is someone who doesn’t actually care about injustice.)

I admire his work. I’m sorry he’s behaved poorly and kind of relieved that he didn’t behave worse. I sympathize more with the women who had to put up with his shit than with him for what’s happening now. What struck me, in his statement, was this –

“I have never considered myself famous or powerful, to the point where I’ve made a lot of bad jokes about it for twenty-odd years.”

  It’s a reminder to me that our perceptions of ourselves are often off the mark. You might think that someone in Ellis’ position, who has had the accomplishments and influence that he’s had, would have a better perception of his place in the world. But most of us don’t. Most of us hear our internal dialogues, our fears and our doubts, much louder than the feedback we get from the outside. We rarely perceive ourselves accurately. 

It’s a reminder that I/we have much more power in the world than I/we think I/we do. It’s a reminder to be more aware, to think before speaking and acting. It’s a reminder to talk more about perceptions and expectations even when doing that seems like it’s going to kill the flow of an interaction. I may think things are hunky dory but the person I’m with might just be being polite. 

I don’t think I’m currently in a position of power. In previous jobs I have been a supervisor and an assistant manager and a manager. As I moved up in responsibility I became conscious of having a responsibility to model “professional” behavior. Getting wasted and flirting with one’s coworkers isn’t a good look for the boss. Now I’m just one mail carrier in a station of about a hundred other carriers. I go to work. I don’t really socialize. I just want to put the hours in so I can get paid and go home and draw. Do I have power? Of course I do. I’m an older white guy who, to the new hires at least, probably seems like I’ve been around forever. Postal carriers have a union. Carriers advance by seniority. There’s a culture of not ratting on your fellow carrier when they misbehave. So I maybe could fuck with the new hires and get away with it. I’m pretty sure that veteran carriers already do that.

I have gotten tired. I have withdrawn. But I’m not dead. It’s time to pay a little more attention at work and in the world. I am not a hero. But I do have power and I can take a few noble actions now and then.

Tuesday Night Party Club #25 Gallery - Half Hour Sketches 31 to 60 From last year, the second set of thirty daily/half hour sketches.

[ty-talks-comics]

Best of DC: Week of March 27th, 2019

Best of this Week: Detective Comics #1000 - Various Writers and Artists

Possibly more controversial than I'm thinking it'll be, I'm glad Scott Snyder and Greg Capullo did the job of reintroducing Slam Bradley into the DC Universe. Slam Bradley, of course the way I choose to remember him, was one of DC's first characters and the precursor design to modern day Superman. He was a 1930s dick (detective in this case) who made his name in infamy with racist depictions of Chinese people being swung by their braids with toothy grins. He's likely the reason DC won't reprint some of the early Detective Comics works in a compendium.

This is without a doubt, a great celebration for one of the greatest comic book characters of all time, if not THE greatest. The difficulty in reviewing something like this, much like Action Comics #1000 (if I reviewed that one, I don't remember) is that so many stories have their ups and downs, hits or misses and there's so much ground. But some of these were so good that this book is getting an entry all on it's own this week.

He's been made better in recent years with a badass run as a side character in Ed Brubaker and Darwyn Cooke's Catwoman (2001) as a cool former police officer with a son by the name of Slam Jr. on the force. He was probably some of the best parts of his short time there and was very compelling in interactions with Selina.

Kevin Smith and Jim Lee have arguably done some of the best and WORST Batman projects ever, but through the good and the bad, both have immense talent and their tale “Manufacture for Use” added a beautiful layer to the significance of the metal plate that his emblem is made out of.

The book is simple enough, a montage of Batman fighting his greatest villains shows in the background while his alter ego, Matches Malone, has a conversation with a merchant peddling in the various pieces of gear left by villains. He has Harley hammers, crazy quilts and even freeze guns, but there's only one weapon Malone is interested in; The Gun belonging to Joe Chill. The weapon that killed The Wayne Family.

He and others had been leaving Batman clues since his first days as a hero to have him join a guild of detectives, solving unsolvable or very difficult cases and knowing that Slam is one of the detectives along with Hawkman, Hawkgirl, Martian Manhunter, The Question, Detective Chimp, Elongated Man and his wife, Sue Dibny is relieving and fantastic.

I'm glad DC hasn't shied away from him given his past history. Even his inclusion in Superman of China based on his former character, warts and all, seemed like DC was kinda ashamed of it, but here he is, as awesome as he was later in life!

Upon seeing it, Alfred questions why Bruce would keep it as a trophy, nothing the ridiculousness of The Penny and the Dinosaur, he sees the gun as strange or even perverse. Batman, however, wishes to never see it cause anyone pain again, melting and forming it into an oval adorned with the symbol of a Bat.

Batman has dedicated his life to stopping crime in Gotham at all costs, but not everyone see his methods as being right or just. Doctor Leslie Thompkins has been looking over Bruce since his parent’s murder and oped that he would take his pain and do something productive with it, actually fix Gotham, but instead she sees how vengeance has consumed him, turning him into something of a violent monster himself and she’s not wrong. They meet each other on the anniversary of his parent’s murder in Crime Alley and are beset upon by a group of teenagers whom Batman viciously slaps the hell out of. Dr. Thompkins stops him out of fear and Batman looks like the real villain here.

If that isn't chilling...

Brian Michael Bendis is a GREAT Batman writer. Checking out his 15 pages in the Batman Walmart 100 Page Giants, much like Daredevil, Batman is a character that is PERFECT for him. “I Know” drawn by frequent Bendis collaborator, Alex Maleev, is amazing. Penguin started becoming disillusioned with the meetings put together by villains like The Joker on how to finally get rid of The Batman, Penguin begins to muse about who had the money to fund Batman. I believe he proposed the idea to the others, but they all shot him down, citing times Batman showed up when Bruce was a hostage or how he “blubbered like a baby.”

Penguin didn’t let it go, however, and prepared Suicide Bomb Penguins to attack Wayne Manor while Bruce was hosting a ton of high profile Gothamites. It would have been the end of Bruce Wayne.

Warren Ellis writes some very character driven stories, but when he has to get technical, he is a master as good as any. In “The Batman’s Design” he goes over Batman’s methodology when taking on criminals, treating things like a chess game that he’s already won. He leads the criminals to a trap and plays them like a fiddle, setting off an explosion that knock out or send some flying, determining a sniper’s location and just being so terrifying that the leader just hands him a bomb switch before his ass gets destroyed.

Becky Cloonan does a great job of alternating between cool and warm tones for when Batman is in the shadows vs contending with explosions he’s setting off. Batman looks slim, but imposing regardless. This is definitely some of her best art so far!

Now… if you ask any of my friends from when I was in The Navy, they’ll tell you about how I waited in line for Batman: The Arkham Knight. I was excited. I was elated. The conclusion to an amazing trilogy of games that shaped a newfound love for the character for me! And it bloody sucked. I HATE Arkham Knight with a passion. If it’s not The Batmobile, it’s the Joker, if not the Joker, it’s the Knight himself, if not him, then Scarecrow as the shitty final villain.

I really loved the noir tone that was set by Elizabeth Breitweiser’s colors over Steve Epting’s art. Things are very dark and cool. Batman is shrouded in shadow and Doctor Thompkins acts as a small light by comparison. There is great contrast when action happens with warm tones as Batman slaps the teens and Batman standing in the shadows as Leslie and the kids are under the one light is powerful.

Suffice to say, I was not pleased when it was said that The Arkham Knight would finally be appearing in comics different than his video game counterpart, but… I dunno, I kinda like him here.

His characterization seems to be that of someone who has lived in Gotham and has seen Batman’s methods of treating the poor citizens, the weak and the sick. He sees Batman as a cancer, a darkness that needs to be exterminated for Gotham to truly thrive. The best thing, there’s precedent for this kind of character.

One of the first few arcs for Detective Comics involved a cool set of villains known as The Victim Syndicate, people who have been hurt or grievously injured in Batman’s relentless pursuit of crime. These guys put Batman’s team through the ringer, almost turning Stephanie Brown against him completely as Tim Drake had been presumed dead at the time. Another casualty of war. If I remember right, The First Victim noted that there was someone or something coming for Batman soon and if that’s the Arkham KNight, then I am excited.

The Victim Syndicate was one of James Tynion IV’s best ideas during his run and I really hope whoever the creative team is for Detective Comics thus forth lives up to the quality. Peter J. Tomasi and Doug Mahnke are both amazing, so I have high hopes if its them.

But Penguin had an epiphany. Ending Bruce Wayne would not end Batman. Batman would become focused. Driven. Possibly to the point of killing. Bruce Wayne is the only thing keeping these villains alive, so Penguin relents and never reveals what he believes he knows, until years later when Bruce is old and mute… but who says that Bruce has lost a step? He zaps Penguin who is taken away as Bruce tells him that he knew, pretty much calling him a “coward ass bitch” as he’s taken away.

Overall, while there were few misses, this collection of stories had great ideas, great characterization, heart and was just fantastic. Looking forward to another 80 years!

This one was just cute. The Batfamily interacts with each other and take a FANTASTIC family photo drawn by Tony S. Daniel. Starring, Batman, Alfred, Nightwing, Batgirl, “Robin” Damian Wayne, Red Hood, Batwoman, Catwoman, “(Red) Robin” Tim Drake, Spoiler, The Signal, Cassandra Cain Ace the Bathound and Huntress. It’s a well put together double splash page and everyone, even Bruce seems happy.

[lucindarobinsonvevo]

Sorry for the RobertStanning (Can stop any time you like) but honestly, the scenes where he takes Elly hostage is some of the best character work in the history of the show. The way he decides he WANTS to watch her give birth (because he missed Harlow being born and growing up), the childlike curiosity as he watches Elly and Finn panic, and then just walking out after seeing the baby. It felt like there's a part of him that craves the normal life he threw away because of his hatred for Paul.

Absolutely never stop, this blog is a hashtag safe space for robert robinson stans of all kinds!

I'm really glad you brought this to my attention, because I've never really viewed that scene through the lense of Robert the Father, i've mostly been watching it thinking of Robert the Fugitive.

I might have already said this a while ago, but the way Robert hesitates when he sees Helen's portrait of the Kennedy children always gets me, man. The way he lowers his hand slightly from the position it's in keeping Elly away almost like for a split second, he's caught off guard. I think it's apparent that he's only half listening to Elly here, it's a bit like he's somewhere...Else. Somewhere better. Obviously he's seen that portrait before when he was dating Katya (don't get me started on the line where he calls them the kennedys when he would have previously known them as the kinskis) but the content of the picture, two brunette boys and a blonde girl. If we view this scene as Robert mourning a life he could have had, who is he really seeing there, do we think? Even if just for a split second, I like to imagine he thought of Elle. And, I mean. His great Gran did that painting. If something, anything was to trigger a moment of humanity in an inhumane situation it would be her, wouldn't it?

Adz Hunter has such great physicality with Robert in this scene too, the way he's so stiff, holds his arms away from his body and doesn't even bother to fix his shirt that's riding up. He backs away from Elly when she approaches him rather than trying to stop her physically. He doesn't hold her longer than he has to, and then he almost looks like he's a bit disappointed in himself when he throws the phone. It's like, he doesn't WANT to hurt her. I think Elly was never in danger from Robert, in the sense that he was never going to kill her. Because it doesn't behoove his plans (whatever they are) to do such a thing, coupled with the knowledge that if he DOES Harlow will never forgive him.

You know, metaphorically speaking, this scene does appear to bridge the gap between robert as a son and robert as a father. A birth is the ultimate renewal. In witnessing Aster’s death, we see the new Robert being born alongside her, because after this Rob stops chasing Paul and starts chasing Harlow instead, more determined to be a good father than a vengeful son. 

It could also link back to his view of Finn as well, saying that he’s ‘just like him’ (baby girl don’t put yourself down like that :(). The show drew direct allusions between Robert and Finn, which all seem to be reaching a fever pitch here with Robert himself acknowledging them. “You’re free, and I’m not.” “I’m only free because I did the right thing.” I can’t help but feel that the terminology here is not just to refer to Finn not being incarcerated like Rob. But free in the sense that he’s free from his past, something Rob can’t ever be, because his ‘past’ is his entire life. To be free from his past, would mean to lose his genetic connection to Elle and Gail which just can’t happen. 

Let’s circle back to ‘I’m only free because I did the right thing’. Rob does ‘the right thing’ here and he lets Elly, Finn and baby Aster live (not that they were in any danger of being killed), and leaves them after making sure that Aster has been born without complications (I do think he would have called an ambulance if he thought Elly was in real danger of dying lol) and sets off to engineer a meeting with Harlow. What I’ve always found saddest about this storyline is that Rob really believed that he and Harlow were just going to ride off into the sunset together. He did the right thing, so shouldn’t he get to be free now? Free from his past misdeeds? Harlow has to tell him that this isn’t how it works for the rest of us. Robert can’t ever be separated from his past, that’s not how it works. But he doesn’t see it like that? How could he. He’s just a kid. 

I don’t mean to ramble on forever, but Rob is just a kid. I think he has a case of arrested development identical to Elle’s, but in Elle’s case is was brought upon by massive unaddressed trauma and in Rob’s case, going to prison while still very young. I think he really believes Harlow is going to want to be with him because he’s just a kid. He’s not thinking about the effect on Harlow because why would he? She should want to be with him, she’s his dad, and all Rob ever wanted was for his dad to feel about him the way he feels about Harlow. 

Anyway. Great ask, I’d never really thought about this stuff from this perspective before :) 

[wittystiles]

The Bluff || Part Five || Mitch Rapp

Author: wittystiles

Word count: 6.7k+

Relationship: Mitch Rapp x Reader

Summary: Mitch Rapp finds out that he really is stuck being readers babysitter, and bickering between the two ensues. (Y/N) finds out some information about Mitch, and the two share some fluff.

Warnings: Cursing (i guess this is like, expected). Sass - more sass than I know what to do with.

A/N: I hate writing this. As soon as I finish a chapter, I love it. But the process of writing it sucks. Lmao. However, I mean it: I really love this chapter. I think it’s ridiculous, and fluffy, and I love Mitch y’all. Thank you to @ellie-bee242 for being my cheerleader, I love you.

Stan sat with Mitch on the couch in the hotel living room, his phone held in the palm of his right hand, the sound of the phone ringing the only one in the room.

Irene’s voice greeted the men, “this had better be good. Do you have any idea what time it is?”

Stan cleared his throat, “we’ve got a problem.”

“What did you do now, Rapp?”

Mitch glared at the phone, taking a deep breath. “I will refrain from taking offense to that, Director Kennedy. I haven’t done anything this time. There was an unexpected casualty of the arms dealer, and it’s being handled. We are calling because Stanley is trying to assign me a new mission that I refuse.”

Stan sighed, “there was a hostage, Irene. Mitch rescued her, and brought her back to his hotel room.”

“Why would you do that, Rapp?”

“She was a hostage, Kennedy. A civilian. I had to. I couldn’t leave her tied to a bed in the arms dealers hotel room.”

“You could have.” Irene said without any emotion to her voice.

Stan gave Mitch a look that carried an almost “I told you so” air to it.

“Kennedy, Stan has given me two options, and I agree with neither.”

Irene sounded bored, “those are?”

“Kill her, or protect her.”

Irene was silent for a moment, Mitch and Stan both growing ever more curious as to what she would say. “You rescued her Mitch. You’ve already committed yourself to the second of the two options. She is your responsibility now. Until we have the arms dealer, or we find who he was working for, you’re her bodyguard. I won’t hear any arguments on the matter. Don’t call me at this hour again unless you seriously fuck something up.”

With that, Irene ended the phone call, leaving the two men to stare at the device on Stan’s palm.

“So. How did tattling on me to mommy work out for you, Rapp? Looks to me like she backed daddy up.”

Mitch stopped himself from cringing, “if you never refer to Irene and yourself as mommy and daddy again, it will be too soon.”

Stan glared but shut his cell phone, Mitch absently wondering how he still survived with an ancient flip phone rather than the smartphones the rest of the agents carried. “You’re going to have to transport her back to America, you realize that. Yes?”

Mitch groaned, “no. The thought hadn’t occurred to me, actually.” “Cause you don’t think about shit before you do it, punk.”

“I think about punching you all of the time, but never do. So, your statement is a lie.”

Stan smacked Mitch on the back of the head, taking a deep breath while he did so. “Do you know anything useful from her, yet, Mitch? Like, where the arms dealer has held her before this?”

“No.”

“Is she American?”

“Yes, I heard her voice. She has an American accent.”

“Wonderful.” Stan huffed loudly, leaning against the arm of the couch. “What else do you know, Mitchell?”

“That isn’t my name,” Mitch said a little snarkily.

“I am aware. Your name is Little Shit, I’ve trained you long enough to know.”

Mitch ignored him, leaning against the arm on the other end of the couch, his arms crossed over his chest. “I know that she was held hostage, and she was taken from America. Beyond that, I am clueless.”

“If that isn’t the truest thing you’ve ever said, Rapp.”

Mitch, growing bored, sighed. “Look, Stan. If there is anything I need to know, tell it to me now. I’m tired.”

“Poor baby. Would you like me to make you a bottle? Tuck you in with your rescue? Make sure the both of you get a good rest?”

“Are you genuinely offering?”

Stan leaned over, hand extended, and Mitch caught his wrist. “Not happening,” Mitch pushed Stans wrist away, crossing his arms again.

“We need you to find out as much information about this girl as possible, Mitch. Get close to her, learn shit about her. Find out where she’s from, what she did for a living, how and more importantly why the fuck she managed to get abducted. Shit like that. I want you feeding all of this back to me.”

“Why?”

“Why do you think, Michelle?”

Mitch gave a shrug, ignoring the name that Stan called him. “If you would like to know anything about her, why don’t you watch over her yourself, Stan?”

“She isn’t /my/ problem, Monica. She’s yours. Which means that you’ve got to watch her. Irene said so.”

“You sound like a child,” Mitch pointed out, shifting to rest the calf of his right leg on the knee of his left.

“And you act like one, Maurice.”

“Who?”

Stan shrugged, looking down at his phone, squinting his eyes. “What is your phone number?”

Mitch rattled it off before asking, “why?”

“I’m making sure I have it so that when you call, I know not to answer.”

“I thought you wanted information?”

“I changed my mind. You can deliver it all to Kennedy, she’ll want it more than me.”

“That makes no sense.”

“Neither does you taking a hostage, Margarette, but you did.”

“She was tied to a bed and drugged, Stan. Any decent person would have saved her.”

“Well, you took her out of one hostage situation and forced her into another. Congratulations, you’re a wonderful man, aren’t you, Matchstick?”

Mitch glared, “that one wasn’t even a name, Stan.”

“That’s rude to all Matchstick’s in the world.”

Mitch rolled his eyes, uncrossed his arms, and went to pinch the bridge of his nose, stopping himself. “Do we know where the arms dealer could possibly be, Stan? I want to take care of him before I have to return to the states.”

“He is no longer your mission, Marvin. She is, do you not remember? We’ve called someone else in to handle the arms dealer. Who, currently, has escaped into the wind.”

“Fuck you, he’s mine! I should be the one to get him, when the incompetent CIA manages to find him, that is.”

Stan raised his eyebrows at Mitch, chuckling a bit. “Did you not already have a chance at him, Marsha? Did you not prove that you’re incompetent? You don’t have the right to him anymore. Your priority is making sure his boss, the one who probably made him take your girlfriend, doesn’t further whatever the fuck he’s been planning.”

Mitch clenched his jaw, taking a deep breath in. “Do not call her my girlfriend, Stan. I’m not going to say that again.”

“Relax, Macey. I forget how sensitive you are. You’re fine, pull your haunches back.”

Mitch relaxed into the couch, rubbing his forehead tiredly. “What else do I need to know, Stan?”

“Make sure she doesn’t contact anyone while she’s here. We don’t need a group coming and taking you out, Maggie. You’re not valuable, but I don’t wanna have to pay the cleaning fee on this room.”

“Thanks, Stan.”

“Of course.”

Standing from the couch, Stan pocketed his cell phone, stretching his arms above his head. “Good luck with her, kid. You’re gonna need it. Don’t tell her any secret information, which you’re likely to do since you’ve got a big mouth. Don’t hit her if she irritates you. Actually, do. I don’t care. And don’t fuckin’ sleep with her. Okay?”

Mitch grit his teeth together, gave Stan a curt nod, and pushed up from the couch. “Goodbye, Sir. Have a safe flight back to America. Or don’t.” Mitch wanted to add “I hope you get detained”, but decided against that.

Stan made his way to the door of the hotel room, his hand resting on the knob. “Don’t fuck this one up, Rapp.”

Mitch didn’t respond, choosing to let the last comment linger in the air after Stan left

-

Sitting up with a start, Mitch brought his hand up to rub at the scar on his chest, taking a deep breath in through his nose. He pushed his body up from the couch he had passed out on, stretching his limbs. Pops and cracks sounded throughout the room causing Mitch to wonder how he still managed to get around so easily. Old age, he presumed, wouldn’t be kind to him. If he ever reached it.

His stomach grumbled loudly, cramping occurring in the middle. He rest his hand on his stomach while looking around the room for the room service menu, clearing his throat. He picked it up, returning to the couch. He read over the menu, choosing a few items. Picking up the phone on the small table beside him, he dialed room service, placing the order.

“Thank you, charge it to the room.” Mitch instructed the woman on the other end of the line, placing the phone back onto the receiver before she could say any more.

Standing from his seat on the couch, he headed into the bedroom of the hotel room, looking over (Y/N) as she slept. She was curled around a pillow, her hand resting beside her face, the tips of her fingers pressed against her lips. Mitch walked to the bed, placing a hand gently on her hip.

“Hey,” he shook her hip a little to stir her from sleep. “I need you to get up.” He shook her hip harder when she didn’t move. “Hey!”, his voice rose this time.

“Hmmm?” (Y/N) hummed, scrunching her nose up and stretching out her arms. “What’s wrong?”

“When was the last time you ate?”

(Y/N) furrowed her brows, her eyes still unopened. “Dunno? Maybe a few days ago? I haven’t been hungry.”

“You haven’t been awake,” Mitch reminded her. He nodded to the bottle of water on her nightstand. “Drink some more fluids, you need to re-hydrate.”

(Y/N) sat up on the bed, cracked her neck, and grabbed the bottle of water. “God, I feel like my hands have been broken and the bones removed.”

“Why?” Mitch took the water bottle from her after watching her struggle with the cap for a moment. He easily unscrewed it, handing the bottle back to her. 

“Maybe it’s the drugs still weakening your system?” Mitch offered, crossing his arms as he sat beside her. He waited for her to finish the bottle off before speaking again.

“Food is on its way, I want you to eat something.”

(Y/N) furrowed her brows, “I don’t think that’s something you get to want.”

“I think it is. Who is the one who was drugged, and who isn’t? I can remember the last time I ate, (Y/N). You can’t. You must eat.”

“You must eat,” (Y/N) mocked, holding the empty bottle out to him. “You should eat my portion. I don’t want it. I’m good. Besides, how do I know you’re not a bad guy? Huh? Maybe you’re here to trick me into getting comfortable, and then you’re gonna get me drugged again and ship me off to like. Another place.”

Mitch shook his head, “why would I do that?”

(Y/N) looked down at her hands in her lap, “that’s what some fuck would do I think. Get me into a false sense of security. I fought back the last time they moved me, hence the shoulder.” She reached up, rubbing around the wound exploratorily, wincing when she reached a tender area.

“Why did they take you, anyway?” Mitch asked, standing from the bed. He was going to look through his first aid kit for some pain killers, thinking against it almost immediately. “Did you do something to them?”

“No. I didn’t. I was just in the wrong place at the right time, I guess.” She gnawed on her bottom lip, still looking down at her hands. Mitch sat back down, waiting for her to continue. “I was on shift at the hospital, I’m a surgical nurse. I just, scrub in, help the surgeons. You know, shit like that.”

Mitch nodded.

“Anyway, I was scrubbing out after a patient when I got a page that someone needed to consult with a nurse about another patient. We were short staffed that night, I figured the other on calls were busy. I thought nothing of it, and responded to the page. When I got there the nurse at the station indicated the waiting room where a woman was. I went to talk to her and she begged me to come with her to check on her husband’s stitches. I asked her to bring him in, but she said they couldn’t afford for him to get seen if it were nothing.”

“You fell for this?” Mitch asked, realizing after he spoke that he shouldn’t have. “Sorry.” He tagged on.

(Y/N) sighed, “yes I did. I am far too kind for my own good, and I have a soft spot for people who cannot afford medical care. Sorry, I’m an idiot. I’m aware.”

“I never said that,” Mitch defended, shaking his head a little. “You’re not an idiot. You swore to help people, that’s what you thought you were doing. I get it, please, continue.”

“Anyway, I finally agreed to going out to see her husband. I had my medical bag with me, so I had some things in case I needed to disinfect anything, things like that. I get out to the front of the hospital, and she tells me that he’s in the parking lot. I, again, think nothing of it. There’s this worried looking woman begging for help, I don’t think she’s going to do me any harm.” Mitch scoffed, “always assume someone wants to hurt you unless they prove they’re not going to.”

“Do you?” (Y/N) asked cautiously.

“Do I what?” Mitch asked, furrowing his brows.

“Want to hurt me?”

“Have I yet?”

“No, you’ve only helped me.” “Then I guess I don’t wanna hurt you, do I?”

(Y/N) shook her head, “no. I guess not.” She took a deep breath and fiddled with the hem of the shirt she wore for a second. Mitch could see her struggling for words, and instinctively reached out to clasp her hand in his.

“You’re not with them anymore, (Y/N). You don’t have to be scared anymore. I’m going to get you home.” Mitch assured her, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

(Y/N) looked up at him, giving him a smile. “Thanks.” She took his hand in hers completely, holding it while she continued. “I get to the van, where her husband supposedly is, and she opens the back door. She climbs in, and I hear a man groaning in pain, but it’s really dark. And I cannot see that much, so I ask her to turn on the light. She urges me to climb in, so I do. The doors to the van then slammed shut, and my chest just tightened. I knew shit was fucked, then. I was fucked. How could it not be?”

“Why would you ever get into the van, (Y/N)? That’s a rookie mistake if I have ever seen one.”

(Y/N) sighed, “am I anything but a rookie?”

“No, I guess you’re not even really that. You’re more an infant.”

“Thanks,” (Y/N) scoffed. “Do you want to hear this story, Mitch? Or would you prefer to just call me an idiot and leave it at that.”

Mitch gave her hand a squeeze, rubbing the side of it gently with his thumb, “continue.”

(Y/N) looked down at their hands, taking a moment to compose herself. She had rehearsed her cover story time and time again. Perfecting it. Memorizing every single detail, like she’d been trained. She wasn’t busy searching for her words, like Mitch assumed. She was selling her role.

“I was panicking, naturally like anyone would, of course. And the woman turned cold, instantly. Flipped a switch and the bitch was a void of emotion. She spoke clinically to me, told me to fix whoever was moaning and groaning. I told her I couldn’t. That I was a new nurse, I didn’t know what I was doing. Shit like that. She smacked me, felt like my eye was going to explode. I’ve never been smacked before that. It was shocking and I didn’t know what to do but recoil from her.”

“Naturally,” Mitch nodded. He was still rubbing her hand with his thumb and absently wondered if he should stop. She didn’t seem to mind, so he didn’t.

“They drove me to this, I wanna call it a warehouse, but it wasn’t. I was dragged around by these two big guys, they had tied my hands in the van. The guy from the van was removed and brought into the warehouse too. We were at a standstill because I wasn’t going to fix him, and he was clearly gonna die. They hit me again, threw me around. After a few more smacks and shit I got tired of it and gave in.”

“To what?”

“I fixed the guy. He had a few bullet wounds in his body, no where serious. It was an easy save. They told me they were gonna keep me. Said having a doctor would be useful, especially for their line of work. I kept trying to tell them I wasn’t a doctor, cause I’m not! I’m not at all! They never listened.”

“How long ago was this?” Mitch asked her, his grip on her hand tightening.

“Three maybe four months. I don’t remember exactly. We were traveling around the East Coast primarily, and I was mostly kept in rooms and cars. Then whomever the dude you came for was, he had them bring me out here to Paris. They had me mostly drugged for a few days. Then I helped with someone and got scared because I was in another country. Tried getting out, snuck out of the room while he was having a meeting. That’s how I got into this mess.”

“The beating and getting tied up?” Mitch asked for clarification. (Y/N) nodded.

Mitch felt his stomach knot, like he was angry. For what? He didn’t know. At what? Equally clueless. But it was there, and he concentrated on (Y/N)’s hand in his to stop his stomach from knotting further.

“Did they..” Mitch stopped himself before he was able to ask the question on his tongue. It didn’t take more than a heartbeat for (Y/N) to catch on, immediately shaking her head.

“No,” she said quickly. “God. No, they didn’t. I would’ve… I would’ve found a way to kill them if they had.”

“You were bound and drugged, (Y/N). I don’t think you could have fought your way out of a paper bag, much less killed grown men.”

(Y/N) scrunched her eyebrows together, glaring angrily at Mitch. “I could have protected and defended myself, thank you for your confidence in me.”

Mitch didn’t speak, just shrugged his shoulders at her. The two were silent for a few minutes. (Y/N) made herself busy tapping Mitch’s knuckles in the beat of a song. Mitch busied himself trying to think of how he was going to manage to babysit her while also still working.

(Y/N) jumped when room service knocked on the door and Mitch dropped her hand like it was a hot coal, pushing on his knees to stand. “I’ll be right back.”

He walked out of the room and called through the door for room service to just leave it by the door, thanking him from bringing up the cart. He watched the employee through the peephole, remembering that they probably spoke french. He reiterated what he’d said, in French, and watched as him left. He waited a few breaths, then opened the door, pulling the cart into the hotel room.

Mitch quickly checked the cart, making sure that it had nothing conspicuous on it before wheeling it into the bedroom. “Foods here.”

(Y/N) looked at the cart that was in front of her, lifting a lid off one of the plates. “This mine?” She asked, looking over the salad on the plate.

“No,” Mitch shook his head. “That’s the side salad. I asked for it on a plate rather than in a bowl. I ordered us burgers. Seemed the safest, unless you’re a vegetarian. Then there’s a tofu something or other in there that you’re welcome to. I figured I’d cover my bases.”

“Wonderful.” (Y/N) responded, taking the lid off another plate. She picked it up, getting more comfortable on the bed. “So, Mitch. What’s your last name?” Mitch ignored her, picking up his own plate, taking a seat across from the bed on a chair against the wall. (Y/N) pursed her lips, folding a fry in half before dipping it into the ketchup she had dumped on her plate. “Well, then, how old are you Mitch? Since last names seem to be a touchy subject.”

“I’m old enough.” Mitch answered before taking a bite of his burger, signifying he was done answering.

“Like… Mid twenties?” (Y/N) ventured, raises her eyebrow at him.

Mitch looked up from his plate to her, not saying anything.

“Right, I’ll say mid twenties since you’re not gonna confirm or deny anything. What about where were you born, Mitch?”

“America. Why do you keep saying my name after every question? I know you’re talking to me. We’re the only two in the room.”

(Y/N) sighed, “I like saying it. ’Sides, maybe if I say your name enough, you’ll finally answer me. Make you realize that I’m speaking to you and not the wall.”

“I never thought you were talking to the wall,” Mitch defended.

“I was being sarcastic, Mitch. Surely you realized that.”

Mitch sighed, “yeah. I did, (Y/N). I was trying to joke.”

(Y/N) mocked shock, “you know how to joke? I didn’t think you were capable of that.”

Mitch rolled his eyes, “are you trying to be funny by making fun of me?”

(Y/N) lowered her eyes to her plate, nodding slowly. “Sorry, Mitch.”

Mitch shrugged, “it’s fine. You should meet Stan, he would love knowing another person who picks on me as well. I’ve never met a man who hates me as much as him, (Y/N).”

“Didn’t you try killing the person who had me? I think he probably hates you.”

Mitch shook his head, “as kind as that is of you to say, no. He doesn’t. He doesn’t know me, and I don’t know him. You can’t hate someone that you don’t know, (Y/N).”

“Yes, you can. I hate people I don’t know all the time.”

Mitch scoffed, “no you don’t, (Y/N). You just don’t like them. It’s different. Hatred… Hatred is something inside of you. Hatred is something that festers inside of the pit of your stomach, something you can never remove.”

(Y/N) stared at him, a little in shock. “Who do you hate, Mitch?”

Mitch sighed heavily, “no one anymore (Y/N). I’ve gutted myself of that hatred.”

“How?”

Mitch, again, ignored her question. He took a few bites of his burger, and (Y/N) did the same, allowing the silence to settle over the two of them for a moment. When her plate was nearly cleared of fries, she addressed Mitch again. “Are you an only child, Mitch?”

He shook his head in response, swallowing what was in his mouth before responding. “No. I have a brother.”

“Younger or older.”

“I have a brother, (Y/N).” Mitch repeated.

“Right, I’m guessing family is a touchy subject?” Mitch sighed, “you’re guessing right, (Y/N).”

“Why do you keeping saying my name, Mitch?”

“So you know I’m talking to you, (Y/N). Not the wall.”

(Y/N) smiled a little, “thanks.”

After clearing the plates from the room, Mitch pushed the cart back to the hallway and locked the door behind him. Going to get comfortable on the couch, he had to stop, thinking he heard his name getting called. He huffed loudly, walking into the bedroom to see (Y/N) sitting on the edge of the bed. “Is there something that you need?” Mitch asked dryly.

“I need your help,” (Y/N) near whispered.

“You need my help beyond me saving your life? You’re getting a bit greedy, wouldn’t you agree?”

(Y/N) pushed her lips together in a pout, holding her hands together in her lap. “Well. I guess, yeah. Sorry, I’ll figure it out, Mitch. Never mind.”

Mitch crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the door frame. “What do you need, (Y/N)?”

“A shower.”

“The bathrooms right there.” Mitch pointed at the door on the far wall. “You’re more than welcome to shower. I can find you something to wear, I’m sure I still have extra clothes.”

“I am not worried about my clothes, Mitch. I am feeling very weak, still. And with this stupid fucking shoulder injury… I can’t shower alone, Mitch. Please, would you help me?

“Help you shower?”

(Y/N) nodded in confirmation. 

“No.”

(Y/N) frowned, clearing her throat. “Okay, then. I suppose I’ll just do it on my own. I mean, I wouldn’t want you getting wet anyway. I hear water is bad for robots, won’t you rust? Would your circuits fry or something?”

Mitch furrowed his brows in confusion, “what are you rambling about?”

“You’re a robot, aren’t you, Mitch?”

“Why in the hell are you asking me that?”

“Well! You never make any faces, you never change the inflection of your voice. You’re a void.”

“That’s rude.”

“See!” (Y/N) shouted, throwing her hand forward in his direction. “You said ‘that’s rude’ but didn’t change the way you looked at me, or the sound of your voice. Did your programmer not give you emotions?”

“I have emotions, (Y/N).”

“Liar.” (Y/N) huffed.

Mitch took a deep breath, then forced a smile.

“Are you okay?” (Y/N) worried, looking at him seriously. “Are you in pain? Your facial muscles know how to do that?”

“Har har.” Mitch mocked her worried look before shaking his head. “Would you just get into the shower? I can smell you from over here.”

(Y/N) gasped, “was that you making a joke?”

“Yes. Did it not land?”

“It wasn’t nice.”

“You said I was a robot without emotions,” Mitch reminded her.

“I cannot argue with that.” (Y/N) smiled. “You gonna help me shower or not?”

Mitch shook his head, turning on his heels to head back out of the bedroom. “Nope, wouldn’t wanna rust.”

(Y/N) groaned, “you’re hateful! Worthless fucking whatever you are!”

“Assassin.” Mitch called from the other room.

“WORTHLESS FUCKING ASSASSIN!”

“Thank you,” Mitch called.

(Y/N) stood from the bed, took a few tentative steps towards the bathroom, and decided she didn’t need Mitch afterall. She made it to the bathroom without incident, took a moment to fiddle with the shower, and then began stripping. She let out a squeal of pain when she went to remove the shirt she wore, causing Mitch to run in.

“What?” He asked, eyeing her.

“What?” She snapped, letting the hem of the shirt go, the material falling back over her hips. “Are you really an assassin?”

“Are you really asking me that? Was that why you squealed like a kicked dog?”

(Y/N) flared her nostrils, “I have half of a mind to hit you right now.”

“I would need to be a corpse for that punch to land.”

(Y/N) balled her hand into a fist, and forced her good arm towards Mitch. He caught her forearm in his hand and held it. “Do you feel better?” “No!” (Y/N) snapped, yanking her arm back. “I want to hit you!”

“Would I get to hit you back?”

“NO!”

“That’s not fair, (Y/N).”

“You’re not fair!”

Mitch sighed, “that made no sense.”

“Yeah?” (Y/N) huffed loudly. “You make no sense. Who do you think you are? Mister I’m-Too-Mysterious-To-Tell-You-Anything.”

“I told you my name. That I’m from America, and that I have a brother. That’s three things, in less than an hour.”

“I hate you.” (Y/N) snapped, leaning her butt against the counter behind her.

“You didn’t hate me a few minutes ago.” “No. I hated you then too, just less.”

“Alright (Y/N),” Mitch shrugged. “Have a lovely shower.”

“Are you really an assassin?” (Y/N) repeated, this time grabbing Mitch’s arm with her bad one to stop him. 

“Do I have to break your arm so you never grab me again?”

“I’d love to see you try.”

“Oh, my God. I’m not having this conversation again.” He took a deep breath, and a part of him felt sympathy for Stan. He realized how annoying he must be to the old man. And he also acknowledged, to only himself, how much he didn’t care.

“Answer the question, Mitch.”

“I have no reason to.”

“You’ve seen me naked! I deserve at least an answer to what you are.”

“I’m a healthy male.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“I have one, yes. I am not one, though.”

(Y/N) swung on him again, and this time, Mitch let her punch land. Her fist connected with his arm, and he didn’t so much as glance at the site.

“Fucker.” (Y/N) hissed. “I hit you hard, you could’ve at least reacted.”

“I didn’t feel it.” Mitch’s lips turned up in a smirk. “You gonna shower? You still stink.”

“No.” (Y/N) grunted.

“Why not?”

“I can’t remove my shirt.”

“Then wear it in the shower.”

(Y/N) went to swing on him again, and he stepped back to avoid her punch. This sent (Y/N) falling forward, and Mitch reached out to catch her around the waist. “Are you almost done?”

“What?”

“I asked if you were almost done.”

“DONE WITH WHAT?” (Y/N) shouted at him, letting him help her stand straight up.

“With trying to hit me. Next time I’ll let you fall.” 

“I’m sure you’d like that.”

Mitch sighed, “no. I’ll be the one having to pick you back up.”

(Y/N) rubbed at her shoulder, wincing a little. “Just let me fucking shower. I don’t need you.”

“You said you did.”

“I’m a liar.”

“I believe that.” Mitch sighed. “Let me help you take your shirt off at least.”

“Perv.” (Y/N) huffed.

“You asked me to fondle you earlier. The only perv here is you.”

(Y/N) groaned loudly, “do you have a gun?”

“Yes.” Mitch said, in more of a question than an answer. “Can I have it? I wanna blow my brains out. Save us both some trouble.”

Mitch laughed, genuinely and sincerely laughed, his face lighting up. (Y/N) took a whole step back, staring at him in what could only be mistaken for amazement. She thought, not for the first time since she’d seen him, that he was truly gorgeous.

“Don’t laugh at me!” She shrieked, stopping his laughter. Mitch rest his hand on his stomach, the exertion from his laughter causing him to have to catch his breath.

“You’re not going to kill yourself, (Y/N). I didn’t save your life just for you to blow yourself away.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, and held her arms out in front of her.

“Are you a mummy?” Mitch asked, looking her over.

“Take my shirt off, like you offered. I can’t lift my arms up that high.”

Mitch smirked again, grabbed the bottom of her shirt, his fingers brushing against her hips. “You sure? I don’t want to be mistaken for a perv again.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes again, “would you hurry up?”

Mitch pulled her shirt off of her quickly, letting the fabric fall to the floor in a small pile. “There.” He tilt his head back, eyes trained on the ceiling. (Y/N) flicked his adam’s apple before heading for shower.

“Are you going to be able to wash your hair?” Mitch questioned.

“No.”

“Turn the shower off then.” “I stink, remember?” (Y/N) snarked, reaching for the shower knob.

“I’ll give you a bath.”

“Am I dog?”

“You act like a bitch, at the very least.” 

“OH! Good one,” (Y/N) snarled. “I don’t need you bathing me. I can figure it out on my own.” She turned the knob, the shower turning off.

“Then why did you turn the water off?”

“So you can give me a bath.”

Mitch chuckled, looking away from (Y/N) to the bathtub. “Hot or warm?”

“Melt me.” (Y/N) replied, moving to take a seat on the edge of the bathtub.

Mitch turned the water on, pushing down the stopper for the tub. The two sat in silence while the water poured quickly into the tub. When it was filled, Mitch offered (Y/N) his hand, and helped her into the tub.

“Thank you,” (Y/N) said sincerely.

Mitch shrugged, “yeah.” He turned the water off, and went on a search for wash clothes and the shampoo and conditioner from the shower.

(Y/N) watched him wander around the small bathroom. “Grab a cup.” “Why? Do you drink soap water?”

“You’re so fucking annoying. You can use it to help rinse my hair.”

“Just dunk under the water?”

Rubbing her forehead, (Y/N) took a deep breath. “Can you just grab the cup please?”

“Any other requests? Do you want bubble bath? Should I rub your shoulders?”

“That would hurt, I imagine?”

Mitch grabbed a spare towel, setting it on the floor beside the bathtub, before resting his knees on it. “Should probably close your eyes.” He told (Y/N), dunking the cup into the water of the tub. She squeezed her eyes shut as Mitch poured the water over her head and face.

(Y/N), who hadn’t managed to close her mouth in time, turned and spit a mouthful of water onto Mitch, drenching his shirt.

Mitch recoiled, dropping the cup in the water. “Are you looking to be smacked?”

“Are you offering?”

“(Y/N),” Mitch’s tone was warning. “You’re pushing my buttons.”

(Y/N) smirked, “ah. Confirming my robot theory.”

Mitch took a deep breath, and picked the water cup up. “Tilt.”

“What?”

“Your head. Tilt it back.”

(Y/N) obliged, closing her eyes and mouth so that Mitch could wet her hair.

Mitch grabbed the shampoo when he was satisfied with the wetness of her hair, and squeezed some out into his palm. “Is this enough?” He asked, waiting for her to see the amount he held. 

“More than enough.”

Mitch rubbed the shampoo between his palms before beginning to massage it into her hair. “You know, when guys get me wet, this is usually not what happens.”

Mitch smiled, “I like keeping people on their toes.” He continued massaging the shampoo in until he felt there was enough foam. “Close your eyes again,” Mitch told her, washing the shampoo out of her hair with the water, running his fingers through her hair to make sure all of the foam rinses out.

“That feels lovely.” (Y/N) near moaned, letting her head stay lulled back. 

“What does?”

“Your fingers in my hair. You’re a lot less brutal than I thought you’d be.”

Mitch rolled his eyes, “I can be gentle you know?”

“I can feel that.”

“You know,” Mitch cleared his throat. “You are not the first girl to compliment my fingers.”

(Y/N) laughed, “careful Mitch. You’re edging closer to perv territory.”

“You’re the one who asked me to bathe you.”

“You offered,” (Y/N) defended.

“Not initially. I said no, and then you whined because your stupid shoulder hurt.”

“Ouch,” (Y/N) groaned. Mitch withdrew his hands, panicked he’d done something to hurt her.

“Are you alright?” He asked, looking her over.

“Yeah? I was saying ouch about your comment.” (Y/N) made a noise that sounded like an ‘awe’, resting her hand on her chest. “Were you worried about me?”

“No.” Mitch pulled on her hair a little, causing her to groan in pain.

“What the hell was that for?”

“Just making sure the shampoo was out.” Mitch smiled innocently at (Y/N), and picked up the conditioner.

-

(Y/N) held the towel tightly around herself, making sure to avoid touching her shoulder, watching Mitch in the bedroom search around in his suitcase. “Having trouble finding something, sport?”

“I would prefer it if you’d never call me that again.”

“What about champ?”

Mitch glanced over at her, giving her an unamused glare. “I will throw you out into the street stark naked, (Y/N).”

“You wouldn’t dare!” She countered.

“Call me one more name, and I will.”

“Okay, okay. God, you’re so touchy.”

“Says the woman who pulled me into the bathtub.”

“I still remain that you tripped trying to grab the body wash.”

“Well. Now I’ve got to find us both clothes, and I don’t think I have enough. You didn’t think your antic through, (Y/N).”

“YOU SLIPPED!”

Mitch grunted, digging through the clothes he had remaining. “Here.” He carried a pair of boxer-briefs and a black t-shirt into the bathroom, holding them out to (Y/N).

“Why are you giving me underwear?”

“So your ass is covered,” Mitch shook the clothes in front of her and she grabbed them from him.

“What are you going to wear?”

“I have other underwear, I’ll wear them. And I think I may have a pair of sweats.”

“Wonderful,” (Y/N) said deadpan. She waited for him to return to the bedroom before she dropped her towel, pulling on the pair of underwear Mitch gave her. “You know. I didn’t think I’d be in your pants this early.”

“You’re not.” Mitch remarked, sorting through the clothes on the bed.

“I’m in your panties.”

“Those are decidedly not panties.”

(Y/N) laughed, pulling the shirt on, whimpering as she did so. Mitch watched her, making sure she didn’t hurt herself, quickly averting his gaze when she had the shirt on.

“Any luck?” She asked, slowly making her way out of the bathroom, flicking the light off behind her.

Mitch shook his head, “I probably forgot them. I don’t pack very well. It’s fine.” Mitch shrugged, peeling his wet shirt off. (Y/N) had to keep herself from drooling, swallowing thickly as she looked away, concentrating on making her way to the bed.

“What are you gonna wear then? Jeans? You seem to live in that pair.”

“No.” Mitch unbuttoned his jeans, and shoved them down his legs. “I’m going to wear underwear, and sleep on the couch.”

“When did I ask where you’re gonna sleep?”

“You didn’t, I was just offering that information.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and took a seat on the bed, crossing her legs underneath herself carefully. “You don’t have to sleep on the couch, you know?”

“What’s your alternative? The floor? Are you going to make some remark about me being a dog?”

“No, you stole that joke earlier.”

“Where should I sleep then, (Y/N)?” Mitch asked, grabbing a clean pair of underwear from his suitcase. “Look away.” (Y/N) did, looking down at her hands knotting together in her lap. Mitch switched his wet underwear for a dry pair, and rest his hands on his hips. “Again I ask, where should I sleep?”

“You can sleep in the bed, Mitch. We’re adults. We can keep our tallywhackers to ourselves, can’t we?”

“I swear to God, (Y/N).” Mitch brought his left hand to his forehead, rubbing in circles. “You’re giving me a migraine.”

“I’m offering to share this bed with you! You should be grateful!”

“I don’t want you fondling me,” Mitch snickered.

“I would never want to.” (Y/N) countered, laying back against the bed, trying her hardest to keep her eyes from wandering down the dark hair below his belly button.

“I’m fine on the couch.”

“Fine!” (Y/N) huffed, moving to lay on her uninjured side, slipping her legs under the covers. “Sleep on the couch.”

“Fine.” Mitch grunted, pulling the covers back on the bed. “I’ll sleep in the stupid bed with you. Keep your hands to yourself.”

“Wouldn’t dream of touching you.”

Mitch scoffed, laying down on his back beside (Y/N). He pulled the covers up to his chest, fluffed his pillow, and turned the lamp beside him off. “Go to sleep (Y/N).” He instructed, closing his eyes.

(Y/N) watched Mitch carefully, eyes dragging over his chest, stopping on the occasional scar. She didn’t notice when Mitch opened his eyes, noticing her staring at him. “Can I help you with something?” He asked, pulling the blankets a little higher on his chest. “Would you stop staring at me? It’s unsettling.”

(Y/N) scoffed, getting more comfortable on the bed. “Thank you for changing my bandages, and bathing me, and for giving me clothes.”

Mitch nodded to signify him saying ‘you’re welcome’, closing his eyes again. “You seriously need to get some sleep, (Y/N). You need to sleep off the drugs.”

“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”

“You couldn’t be fine if that was your name.”

“That was your worst joke yet.”

“Goodnight, (Y/N).” Mitch rolled over, his back facing her.

“Goodnight, Mitch.” (Y/N) smiled, finally closing her eyes.

~

Tags: @ellie-bee242, @redstringlovers, @lovefilledtragedy, @cathobs, @sumcp, @teamwolf2411, @confidentrose, @daddyxraeken, @iloveteenwolf24, @kalista-rankins, @stilinski-stydia-obrien, @omgimafuckingmermaid, @cuillere,  @behind-my-hazeleyes27, @girlwiththerubyslippers, @bilesbilinskix,

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[chuckepisodes]

Chuck vs. Santa Claus Part 4

You and Chuck looked at Mauser as he walked over to Ned. "Wait, wait, wait, wait!" Chuck called out as you both ran over to Mauser. " Chuck, look, you did a good job, but I'll take it from here, okay?" " Yeah, but-but you know what? Um, Ned is really uptight, so maybe, maybe I should go over there and talk to him and tell him that you're taking over. Kind of put him at ease so he doesn't get upset." "So you guys developed a little trust, did you?" " Yeah." "Okay. What about Y/N here?" "Oh she can come too. He's been getting use to her as well." "Okay. Oh, yeah, good idea. Good." You and Chuck tried to smile at him and then turned to walk over to Ned.

"Listen to me, Ned, you have to listen to me very carefully. This guy Mauser-- he is no good. He is not a good guy, okay? We cannot trust him." Chuck warned. " Why not?" " We have to let everybody out of the store right now." you told him. " If I let everyone out, then I'm not gonna have any bargaining chips. I can't go to jail, guys." You and Chuck were struggling. You didn't want to tell him the whole truth but you had to say something. Chuck looked at you and you nodded, letting him know it was okay. "Okay, look, the people I was talking about-- the people that can help, they work for the government, see? They will do anything they can to protect me and Y/N. That's the only bargaining chip that you need. Ned, you have to trust us. You need to let everyone go. We haven't let you down yet, have we?" Chuck asked. "Thanks, guys. I'll take it from here." Mauser said, approaching you both. " Okay, okay." Chuck said. He grabbed your hand and walked away. You stood far away enough though, so you could hear what Mauser was talking to him about. "Well, Ned... it's time the rubber hits the road. What do you say we make a deal? Hmm?" Ned looked over at you both and you and Chuck shook your heads no.

"Chuck, Y/N, can I talk to you a minute?" Mauser called out. Chuck was busy talking down the guys to not attack while you were with Ellie. "Hey." you and Chuck greeted when you joined him. " Well,  it looks like Ned and I have worked the whole thing out." " That's great! " you said. "Yeah! I'll just go tell everybody that we can leave." Chuck said, about to turn around. " No, no, no, no, not just yet, but soon. First, we need to work something out on our own." "I don't understand." you told him. " You see, FULCRUM knows John Casey's NSA. The yogurt girl's CIA. We've lost enough agents to these two. We knew they were here protecting someone. We just didn't know who. So we caused a little ruckus, sent Ned inside to see who they would rush to protect. Turns out... they're protecting you two." You and Chuck did a nervous chuckle. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Lieutenant." "Do you see, uh, Ned over there?" You and Chuck looked over at Ned, who gave you both a look and pulled out his gun. " I'd hate to see him shoot your pretty little sister if he thought you were not cooperating with me." " Look, we're,  we're just  analysts, okay? Please don't hurt anyone." " Chuck, you two are way more than just  analysts.  We did a background check on you. Chuck, turns out you were college roommates with Bryce Larkin. The same Bryce Larkin that stole the Intersect from us." " Bryce Larkin is dead." you told him. "And I'm done negotiating." Ned cocked his gun. "Wait. Wait, wait, wait, wait. Stop him. Stop him. Please stop him. What do you want?" Chuck asked. "I want to know where Bryce Larkin and the Intersect is. And if I think you're lying even a little bit, Chuck's sister dies. Where's Bryce Larkin?" " We don't know." Chuck told him truthfully. " Then I'm really sorry." "But I know where the Intersect is." you said. Chuck turned to you, confusion and fear on his face. "Where?" "Y/N what are you doing?" Chuck whispered. "Saving our family." you whispered back. You looked back at Mauser and pointed at your head." It's right here." Mauser smiled. Chuck was in so much shock by what you were doing, he was speechless. "All right, Y/N, this is how it's gonna play out. Ned's gonna release another hostage: you. Then you and I are gonna go out and get into an ambulance, which will take you to a secure FULCRUM facility, where you'll stay." "And you'll leave Chuck alone?" "Promise." "I'm never going to see him or my family again aren't I?" "No." "Well then can I say goodbye to Chuck and my family over there please?" "Okay. But if you say or do anything to call attention to me or your situation, Ned's gonna shoot them, capisce?" " Yeah." " Okay, good. Go ahead." Mauser and Ned walked off, leaving you and Chuck alone. "Y/N, this is crazy. Why did you tell him?" "Because! Because I was afraid for your family, my family, and I wasn't going to let anything happen to you." " Y/N..." "Look. It's going to be okay." you told him softly, cupping his face with your hand. " But I need to protect you. It's my job." "And it's my job to protect you too. Okay?" "I'll find a way to get you out of this. I'll get Sarah and Casey and I will get you out of this. I'm not losing you baby." "I know you will." You leaned up and kissed him, wrapping your arms tightly around him, as he did the same to you. "I love you Chuck." "I love you too. So much." You hugged him one last time before going over to Ellie.

As Sarah and Casey were about to leave they heard on the news about another hostage being released. They looked over at the screen and saw that it was you. Being taken by Mauser in an ambulance. "Fulcrum got Y/N." Sarah said.

Sarah and Casey quickly ran out of Orange Orange and saw the ambulance you were on drive right by them. "They're getting away with Y/N." Sarah and Casey ran and began shooting at the wheels of the ambulance. They were able to blow them out and the ambulance slammed into a sign. You were okay and quickly hopped out of the ambulance and running away into a spot where Christmas trees were being sold. Mauser then stepped out and they began shooting at him. He dodged and then went running after you. "Hey, get back here!" he yelled.

As you were hiding, a hand came out and went over your mouth. You panicked for a second then realized it was Sarah. "Lieutenant Mauser's FULCRUM. So's Ned... it was all a set-up." " I know." "Chuck and everyone in the store are still in danger." " Our team is moving in on them right now; they'll be fine. Now I need you to run back as fast as you can to the Castle." " I can't leave you alone with this guy." "Your safety is more important than mine. Now leave and don't turn back. Go. Go."

You quickly ran. You were almost out when you looked back and felt guilty leaving Sarah alone with Mauser. You decided to turn back and find her.

Sarah got into a match with Mauser but came out on top when he was on the ground and she had her gun pointed at him. "You may have beaten me, Agent Walker, but FULCRUM's won. I know Y/N L/N's the Intersect." "Y/N's secret is safe. And you're going straight to a CIA detention facility, never to be seen or heard from again." "You go right ahead, Agent Walker. Arrest me. But say "good-bye" to Y/N. I feel like Chuck is one too. Isn't he? But you see, I'm not like those other FULCRUM agents. They'll do whatever it takes to find me. And when they do, every FULCRUM agent we have is going to know Y/N and Chuck are the Intersect. It's going to be the end of their pathetic existence. So take me in, Agent Walker. Ready to go." Sarah looked at him for a second. Then it came to her. You two would be in so much danger if she only took him in. He knew your secret and was figuring out Chuck too. She had to end this. So she had no other choice but to shoot him.

You didn't hear any of the conversation but you did see Sarah shoot Mauser. You had never actually seen her kill anyone before. It kinda scared you. You slowly backed away and ran off, back to the Buy More.

When you got there, you saw the cops were in and arrested Ned. It was done. You quickly ran and saw Chuck standing there. "Chuck!" you called out. Chuck turned around and was shocked. He breathed a  sigh of relief and smiled big and then ran over to you. He quickly wrapped his arms around you and lifted you up. You wrapped your arms around his neck and buried your face in his neck, happy you were able to be with him once again. "Oh my God. Baby are you okay?" Chuck asked as he put you down, putting both hands on your cheeks and looking you over. "I'm fine." you told him, smiling. "Sarah came and rescued me." "Where is Sarah? I need to thank her right now." You then remembered what you saw. "I'm sure she'll be here soon." you told him, trying to smile. Chuck leaned down and kissed you and then hugged you once more and you laid your head on his chest.

Sarah then came walking and saw you and Chuck and quickly walked over. "Y/N!" You looked over and went up to her, letting Chuck go for a sec. Sarah ran up to you and gave you a hug. "It's okay. You and Chuck are safe. I got the FULCRUM agent." " What happened to him?" " I arrested him. Casey's taking him to a secure facility as we speak." Sarah lied to you. All you could do was nod your head. You couldn't believe she would do that. "It's okay. He's going to go to jail. He'll never bother you guys again." "Yeah. Thank you." Ellie then came running up, Chuck and Devon with her and gave you and Sarah a big hug. "Merry Christmas guys!" "Merry Christmas." you said back. "It's not going to be one we're going to forget soon, huh?" " Uh, yeah." " Oh, that looks fantastic on you." Ellie said, looking down at her mom's charm bracelet that Chuck gave you. " Oh, thank you." " I'm so glad that you have it." "Aww. Yeah, me, too." Chuck could tell you were acting a little weird. He was definitely going to talk to you later.

You went with Chuck and his family back to his place, since you would all be spending Christmas together. You were done changing into your pajamas in Chuck's room, when he came walking in, a cup of tea for both of you. "Figured a cup of tea would do us good after today." "Thanks babe." you said, smiling warmly at him You both sat down on the bed, taking a sip of your tea and then Chuck turned to you. "So, what happened? You've been acting a little weird since you got away from Mauser." You couldn't keep this a secret from Chuck. You sighed and put your cup on the table beside you. "Well, when Sarah came for me, she told me to run back to Castle. And I was going to. But I felt guilty leaving her alone with him, I turned back. I then saw Mauser, kneeling on the ground and Sarah had her gun pointed at him. I stood back and hid behind a tree. And the next thing I know, she shot him." "But... Sarah said she arrested him." "She killed him. I never actually seen her kill anyone before. And she lied to me about it." Chuck could tell you were upset by it. He put his tea down as well and pulled you in close. You snuggled right into him. "I'm sorry Y/NN." You stayed quiet for a moment and just lied there. "I'll confront her later about it. Right now I'm just happy to be able to celebrate Christmas with you and your family." "So am I." Chuck said, smiling down at you. "Merry Christmas Chuck." "Merry Christmas Y/N." Chuck leaned in to kiss your forehead. "So...are you going to tell me what you got me for Christmas?" he asked, with a goofy smile on his face. You giggled and sat up and smacked him lightly on his chest as you went back to drink your tea and Chuck laughed.

[stargleeksil-blog]

Criminal Minds s06e01 “The Longest Night” review - or more aptly named, a cliffhanger-solver that makes me fall in love with my band of superheroes and Shemar Moore is amazing and Tim Curry scares the living shit out of me, and I love this series.

Episode 01 – The Longest Night

Um, hi? I don’t even know how to preface this review.

Season six, y’all! This is nuts!

Let’s see how the previous episode wraps itself up in this season premiere. Holy mother of fucking shit.

My respect for all the diehard CM fans who’s been in on this from the start. HOLY SHIT! How did you fucking survive this?

Of all things possible, a Leonard Cohen song? Oh dear.

Holy crap, Ellie managed to escape?

Or is he letting her go so he can chase her on purpose and kill those poor fuckers?

Yup, second option.

Oh god, this is sick.

“Spicer’s sister’s not in her apartment. The building manager said she left hours ago.”

“Morgan and Spicer?”

“No one’s been in or out since the power went down.”

“Morgan said they were coming here, right?”

“And he was a lot closer than any of us. Something must have changed.”

Oh god, please find them soon.

“What would cause Morgan to change his mind like that when he knows he can’t tell us?”

Well …

“The unsub had Spicer’s sister and daughter. Morgan knew he didn’t have a lot of time.”

“So his first guess had to be right.”

“The unsub attacked Spicer specifically through his family.”

Oh god. Please just find them.

“If the unsub wants to hurt Spicer, he’ll do it someplace that means something to him. Morgan must have realized the same thing.”

Yup.

“Kristin.”

Oh god, oh god, my dear puppy. Please hold on.

“Just try to slow your breathing.”

“Just slow everything down.”

“My team is going to find us. They’re gonna go to your apartment where we said we were going.”

Yes, they will.

“When they see that we’re not there, they’re gonna figure out where we are the same way I did.”

“And when they do, we will bring Ellie home …”

Oh my cute puppy, I love you.

“This guy has been travelling all over the country. How?”

“How did he bring you here?”

Oh god, it’s awful seeing them reach the scene.

“Damn it. Just put a bandage on it and leave me alone.”

Oh god, my poor determined heroic puppy.

Just let them take care of you.

“How is he?”

I love that he knows he can’t ask Morgan cuz he’ll deny everything, so he goes straight to the ME.

“It’s nothing, Hotch.”

Yeah right.

“She’s right, Morgan.”

“Guys, I’m not going to any hospital until we find that little girl.’

“Now, please, just put a bandage on it.”

Morgan, what’s that notebook?”

“I asked the sister to tell me everything she could remember about the unsub.”

“And what’s her condition?”

“It’s bad.”

Frack.

“I’ll go check on her.”

It’s good to get a woman with her.

“How many cops were in LA?”

“City or county?”

“You actually know the answer.”

“I know both answers.”

Five years and she’s still shocked?

“Derek …”

“I’m all right.”

“You don’t look all right.”

So cute!

“Reid, drop it.”

Hey!

Don’t go all angry on my poodle, he’s being cute and supportive.

“Garcia.”

“Baby boy, are you all good?”

Oh god, I’m so glad my goddess is checking up on him.

“Listen, I need you to run something for me.”

“You really had us worried. And by ‘us’, I mean me. I didn’t know where you were…”

“Now, Garcia.”

“Okay.”

HEY! It’s fine, I get it, you are worried about Ellie because you made that dumbass promise to Spicer before he died that you’ll look after her, but that’s baby girl tech kitten goddess you’re talking to, and I’m not okay with you acting out like that.

APOLOGIZE!

NOW!

“You know, she really needs to be more professional sometimes.”

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?

HE DID NOT JUST SAY THAT!

Oh I am so angry with my puppy right now.

I need a sec.

“She gets the job done every time.”

Exactly! Listen to Hotch.

“I told him that we should wait for backup, but he wouldn’t listen to me.”

“We split up and he headed around back before I could stop him.”

“Morgan, sometimes when it comes to family common sense and procedure go out the window. We do the best we can.”

“This unsub raped the aunt and then beat her for no reason.”

“She didn’t resist, man, and he still pistol-whipped her until her ribs were crushed.”

“He killed Spicer while he was on his knees.”

“He was unarmed.”

“This guy’s a pure psychopath.”

“I want this guy.”

“We’ll get him.”

“Well, we better do it fast.”

Yup.

“Taking Ellie was like a game to him. The sick bastard thought it was funny.”

“He’s gonna get pissed off at her, man. She’s nothing but a little girl.”

“She’s gonna show him fear. And when she does …”

“He’s gonna kill her.”

Oh my god, you guys, Shemar Moore is like one of the most accomplished actors ever, seriously! I’m so in awe of this man.

I’m also like super appreciative of Tim Curry in this episode, I’m like – holy fucking shit, he literally scares the living crap out of me, and yet I remember him from The Rocky Horror Picture Show so I’m conflicted, and then I’m like – WOW! I love him!

“All right, what we have is an unsub with complete behavioral chaos.”

“Meaning?”

“Serial offenders, especially long-term, successful ones, don’t just suddenly change what they do or how they do it.”

“Going after a high-risk target like a police detective and then all of a sudden abducting a child is fairly unheard of.”

“Fairly?”

Uh-oh.

“Sometimes they devolve as they know we’re getting closer to them and their time’s running out. But this unsub doesn’t appear to be devolving.”

“Devolution generally means loss of control. They find it harder and harder to keep the outside world from noticing them.”

“I think he’s becoming more controlled. He spent a lifetime murdering seemingly random victims, then out of nowhere sought out Spider, recreated his parents’ murder, lured him into a trap, killed him and took his daughter. The behavioral spectrum is alarmingly different.”

Damn straight.

“Yeah, Garcia.”

Oh god.

“Hi. I want to have better news, mon ami, but there are zero RVs in the state of California with M-D-3 in that order on the plate. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry’s not helping anybody. I need results.”

HEY! HEY! Calm down, Morgan! No one talks to baby girl like that.

“Garcia’s got nothing on the partial plate.”

And you need to calm the fuck down.

“So how the hell are we supposed to find this guy?”

“We can contact him.”

Huh?

“Kristin remembered in the ambulance that the unsub listens to news radio incessantly. He would even stop assaulting her if the broadcaster said anything about the Prince of Darkness.”

“Makes sense for a narcissist.”

Yup.

“Oh, no.”

Oh boy.

“What is it?”

“The LAPD just put all the information.”

“What do you mean?”

Oh god.

“A spokesperson at the crime scene was talking about the RV and about Ellie.”

“So this guy knows exactly what we know.”

Fuck.

“That might force him to dump the RV.”

“Or kill …”

Poodle, uh-uh! I thought you had better social skills than that.

“No, I don’t think so.”

Why not?

 “Why not, Rossi?”

“Well, he could have killed you and the sister. He didn’t. He kept you alive. He can’t be surprised that we know what he’s driving and that he has a hostage. But how many radio stations are there in Los Angeles?”

“I don’t know, twenty or so.”

“We can’t just guess which one he listens to.”

“What about the emergency alert system? It could be a way to communicate over all the stations simultaneously.”

Oh my smart cinnamon roll.

“How do we do that?”

“I don’t really know. How hard could it be to work out?”

Oh god, I love you, JJ.

What the actual fuck?

Oh my god, I’m about to be sick. Curry’s character is awful.

“I am acutely aware that this is an unusual request. It’s an unusual situation.”

Ooh, my gorgeous cinnamon roll dealing with assholes.

“Then I need to speak to your boss.”

Oh boy, she’s not messing around!

“No, I’m not calling back. Transfer me.”

TRANSFER HER!

“Yes, who is this?”

“And what’s your title, sir?”

“I’m Agent Jennifer Jareau, the communications liaison for the FBI’s behavioral analysis unit.”

Whoo, that’s a mouthful, imagine the bloopers.

“Yeah, the emergency alert system.”

Wait. Is there another emergency alert system that she has to specify it’s the biggest one? LA scares me.

Oh god, I’m so in love with Ellie. She found out there are two kids in the house and she got the other one to alert the whole neighborhood. She’s amazing.

“Kristin wanted me to tell you she’s sorry she made you promise her brother. She said it was unfair.”

Aw!!!!

“You want to tell me what she made you promise?”

“That I wouldn’t let anything happen to Ellie.”

“Well, she’s right. That’s not fair.”

Nope.

“How is anything we handle out here fair?”

Well, you’re right, puppy. But making your promise you will not let anything happen to Ellie while dealing with a psycho like Tim Curry’s character is insane, to say the least.

“Every time they put me on hold, I get one layer higher on homeland security.”

Ooh, you don’t want to mess with my cinnamon roll.

“It’s a bureaucratic pile of steaming … yes. Yes, um, ma’am? Thank you for holding.”

Oh god, I’m so in love right now.

I love Ellie.

“What’s the matter, scared?”

Oh my god.

“Ballsy neighbors.”

Damn straight.

“Tell your officers not to approach him if they spot him. He’s getting desperate.”

“Won’t be easy with a cop-killer.”

“Then you’d better ask them how they’d feel about getting that cop’s daughter killed.”

Oh wow.

“He cut her hair.”

“I swear to god, when I get my hands on this son of a …”

Oh god, I’m loving Shemar Moore beyond belief. I’m angry as fuck at him for being a bitch to my honey, but come on! How can you not love him?

“That actually might be good.”

Huh?

“Why disguise somebody you’re gonna kill?”

I love you.

“Here’s how he stays awake all night.”

“Look at this article on Spicer.”

“We already know he was obsessed with all the attention Spicer was getting.”

“Yeah, but look what’s underlined three times.”

I know you’re desperate, puppy, but listen to my poodle.

“‘Eight-year-old Ellie, bright, happy child.’”

“I don’t normally take to kids, but this one’s just special.”

Oh fuck.

“What?”

“That’s what he said back at the house. Ellie was his target all along, not Spicer.”

Shit.

Fucking fuck, fucking shitting fuck.

“Yes. Yes, I’m still here.”

“Yep, I’m always gonna be here.”

I love you.

“Okay. My name is Jennifer – no. Do you know what? I’m not going to explain this entire thing again to another mid-level bureaucrat who can’t give me a sufficient answer.”

XDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

“Put someone on the damn phone who can authorize what I need.”

I love you, JJ.

“He wasn’t after Spicer.”

“We were just coming to the same conclusion.”

“It doesn’t make sense he hasn’t killed the girl if she wasn’t what he was after.”

“He’s disguised to keep her.”

Yup.

“Look at this. There’s a stack of them in the RV. Reid’s reading them all right now.”

Should take a minute.

“So, we profiled his obsession with Spicer was over not getting credit for his law enforcement career. But maybe it’s the daughter he’s not getting credit for.”

Ha?

“He thinks he’s responsible for her.”

I’m going to barf.

“Well, she wouldn’t even be here if he hadn’t allowed Spicer to live twenty-five years ago.”

Oh god.

“A bastardized version of a grandparent.”

Fuck.

“That’s a pretty twisted delusion.”

“Well, it only has to make sense to him.”

“And when a delusion like that crashes, it crashes hard.”

“Hey, guys. The murders we found in Orange County in 1985, they might not have been his first.”

Fuck.

“Yes, ma’am. Yes, madam secretary.”

Whoa! That’s an escalation.

Wait. So she got the secretary on her side? WHOO! I love you, JJ.

“Hotchner.”

“We have access to the local emergency alert system. The secretary personally set it up herself. It’s in the city command center.”

Wait. Hold up. She’s going to do it? Is she a negotiator?

“Me?”

Oh boy.

“The unsub may be still in this area, and if he surfaces, we need to be close.”

“I’m not a hostage negotiator.”

“I’m sorry. You are today.”

Oh god.

“Dr. Reid, you’re on your own cellular.”

Oh my goddess.

“Yeah. The power came back here a few minutes ago.”

“How’s my main man doing?”

“On the completely safe assumption that you’re not talking about me.”

“Let’s just say I wouldn’t want to be this unsub when Morgan finally gets his hands on him.”

Ooh, poodle burn.

“That bad, huh?”

“Has he ever yelled at you before?”

“Touché.”

Oh my god, I love my family of superheroes.

“How can I be of service?”

Wow. Talking on the emergency alert station is truly simple.

Oh dear.

I hope she manages.

“JJ.”

“I’m here.”

“You okay?”

“Hotch … what if I mess up?”

“Don’t worry. You won’t. I’ll call you right back.”

Oh boy.

“Already?”

“Do you doubt it?”

“Yeah, I’ll put you on speaker.”

“Okay, let me preface this by saying that a forty-year-old murder in a suburb of Los Angeles is an absurdly impossible request.”

“Having said that,”

“Yours truly happens to know that the Pollack Library at Cal State….”

“Garcia.”

“Yes, sir, sorry, uh … anyway, this murder was quite the scandal.”

“For Southern California in the sixties, that’s saying something.”

Ooh.

“Okay, I don’t know who was talking right then, but … word.”

I love you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“So, Nora Flynn was a prostitute and a drug addict living in a desert community just outside of Los Angeles.”

Who’s Nora Flynn?

“It appears bikers were her stock in trade, rough bikers, and one fateful day, she and her client were murdered by her thirteen-year-old son Billy.”

Oh my god!

“Shot to death.”

“The customer, ironically named John, was able to tell the police before he died that Billy made him beg for his life and then shot him anyway.”

Fuck.

“That’s him.”

“And he was convicted, but …”

“Right. He’s a juvenile.”

Fuck.

“So at eighteen, he was released in 1973, never heard from again.”

“Oh, he was heard from.”

Fucking fuck fuckity fuck.

“I’m sending you a picture of him on the day he was released to your PDAs.”

“Make sure you send the files to JJ.”

“Of course, my liege.”

“Garcia bids you ad…”

“Garcia, wait a minute.”

Please tell me he’s about to do what I hope he’s going to do.

“Hey.”

“Hey, back.”

Oh god, I just want them to kiss and make up.

“Baby girl, I’m sorry for taking your head off.”

“Oh, darling, our love is a rock. No bad day can come between us.”

“Word.”

I’m in love with the two of them.

“Come home safe.”

“I’ll leave a light on.”

Oh god, they’re back, and it’s glorious.

“The most important thing is that you build rapport with him.”

“I’m asking you to do one of the hardest things that anybody in our position ever has to do. I need you to empathize with him. Sympathize.”

Shit.

“Garcia’s sending you a file on him and his childhood.”

Shit.

“You’re gonna be fine. Just talk to him.”

Oh my darling. Be strong.

“I’ll be listening.”

Damn.

“Billy? Billy Flynn?”

Oops. They revealed him.

“I’m not a hostage negotiator, I’ve never done anything like this at all ever, but, sometimes circumstances …”

“Look … you can tell I’m not a hostage negotiator. But I am a mother.”

“And I … I know what your mother did to you when you were little.”

“What she was, what she made you watch, what she let men do to you, and it makes me so … it’s just not fair.”

Nope.

“And no one can make it better. I wish I could. I do.”

“If I could somehow go back there and, you know, make what was happening to you stop, if I could just … you know, pick you up and just tell you that it’ll all be okay.”

Oh god, it’s official. This show is making me bisexual. Wow.

“That’s what moms are supposed to do.”

“They’re not supposed to be the cause of your pain, they’re supposed to make it go away.”

“They’re supposed to hold you and tell you everything is gonna be all right.”

“They’re supposed to tell you that thunder is angels bowling, And that it’s okay to be afraid of the dark. And it’s not silly to think that there might be monsters in your closet. And that it’s okay that if you want to climb in bed with them just this once, ‘cause it’s scary in the room all alone.”

“They’re supposed to say it’s okay to be afraid, and not be the thing you’re afraid of.”

Oh my god, my heart is ripping.

“But most importantly, they’re supposed to love you no matter what.”

“What happened to you isn’t fair, it’s not right, but …”

“I’m supposed to empathize with you. Sympathize. Understand. But I can’t. That would be a lie.”

“The truth is, I don’t understand what you’ve done. I don’t sympathize with you killing people all these years. And I especially don’t understand you taking Ellie.”

“What I can do is tell you what a mother should tell you, that you can’t take away your pain by hurting someone else. That it doesn’t make all the nights you went to bed scared and alone any better if you scare someone else the way you’re scaring Ellie.”

“What happened to you, it isn’t fair. But what you’re doing to her isn’t fair either, and if anyone should understand what it feels like, it’s you. You have the power. You can do what you want to do.”

“But for once, you can choose to use that power to do for Ellie what should have been done for you. You can choose letting her go. You can choose to teach her that, yes, there are monsters, and it’s okay to be afraid of them. But it’s not okay to let them win. And it’s not okay to be one.”

“Agent Prentiss.”

“Both of Kristin’s lungs collapsed. She died a few minutes ago.”

Fuck.

“Ellie’s got no one now.”

“He let her go.”

WHAT?

“Where is he now?”

“JJ. I don’t know if you know. You did it.”

I love you guys so much.

“He’s watching us.”

Fuck.

“He wants to talk to you.”

Oh dear.

“What?”

I love how he’s like, cut the bullshit, you dickhead.

“He wants me to come in.”

Hell no.

“I know this guy, Hotch.”

“He didn’t kill me before, he’s not gonna kill me this time.”

“No.”

More like, hell no.

“I believe in my original profile. He will not hurt me unless I show him fear.”

“Listen – when you needed us, we were there for you.”

Oh boy.

“This one is mine.”

“You sure?”

“As I’ve ever been.”

“In here, Agent.”

Fuck me.

Please kill him.

‘It’s over, Flynn.”

“You couldn’t.”

Nope. He couldn’t kill him.

“I’m not afraid of you.”

“Shoot me.”

Please don’t.

“Go ahead. Shoot me.”

“You can’t do it.”

“I study guys like you for a living.”

“I know more about you than you know about yourself.”

“You point that gun at them and I will kill you, and that is another promise.”

You know it.

Fuck, Tim Curry is amazing, but I really hope they kill his character here.

“Put the gun down and get up.”

“Is that what you think you’ve been doing all these years, helping people?”

Oh god, Flynn is sick. “Well, no, I suppose not.”

“This your last chance.”

God damn. This scene is seriously one of the most amazing things in the world and I want to fly out to LA and hug the living shit out of Shemar Moore for being such an amazing actor, I’ve seen stuff he’s done on YouTube, and I’m so amazed by this man.

The Buddha: “A family is a place where minds come in contact with one another. If these minds love one another, the home will be as beautiful as a flower garden. But if these minds get out of harmony with one another, it is like a storm that plays havoc with the garden.”

[moucheamielanie]

Sugar and Sass

The Doctor had traveled far and wide, across time and space.  He was many things to many people: hero, villain, monster, madman, nuisance, unstoppable force of nature.  His name was known across the universe as a rallying call, a cry for help, a curse.  Most didn’t even know he had a wife, let alone who she was.  Melanie Lamonte preferred it that way, to be perfectly honest.  One might think she was ashamed of him, but they would be mistaken.  After travelling with the Time Lord as his companion for years, Melanie Lamonte seen the best and worst of the universe.  She knew well that her husband had made enemies… enemies that wouldn’t hesitate to use loved ones as leverage against him.  More than once she’d been held hostage to tie the Doctor’s hands behind his back.  But he always found her and brought her home.  Truly, she felt less afraid than she did pitying of her captors; the Doctor showed them no mercy.

It had been happenstance that brought them together.  They had bumped into one another in the park by her university, neither really paying much attention to where they were going.  From the moment he took her hand, everything changed.  She didn’t know what she’d been expecting, but a time travelling alien in a spaceship was definitely not it.  The TARDIS was a miracle, an impossibility on more levels than one.  Somehow, her owner was even more impressive.  Was it his decision to bring her to the moon that made her stay?  Maybe it was the mystery of him and his ship that kept her around?

No… it was his kindness.  The natives of her Louisiana hometown had already disliked Melanie’s mother, Ellie, since she was a working woman with a child and no husband.  But the community completely ostracised Melanie after she became pregnant out of wedlock in high school.  Only a handful believed Mel when she explained that she had been raped by her then-boyfriend.  After all, her family already had a bad reputation, and her boyfriend was the son of the most powerful family in the area.  Why would anyone believe the slut daughter of a slut mother over the son of a prestigious family?

Melanie studied hard to acquire a scholarship to Tulane University, and she was more than happy to move to New Orleans and start over in a new place.  She had studied education and kept to herself, not wanting to make waves.  She had been in her second year when she met the Doctor that fateful day in Audubon park.  It had been the way he treated her that convinced her to travel with him.  The Doctor didn’t see her as a whore, a liar, a baby-killer.  He saw something else… something that made him ask her to be his companion.  She kept waiting for him to change his mind… but he didn’t.  

Their love story stretched over the span of six or so years.  So much had happened that it was honestly difficult for Melanie to remember it all.  She had met all kinds of people travelling with the Doctor.  Some of them even joined their strange, wonderful family.  But that family hadn’t felt complete without a child to call their own.  Unfortunately, Time Lord and human DNA don’t naturally mesh well enough to allow the races to reproduce with one another.  After months of trying, it became clear that conceiving a child was impossible beyond an act of god or considerable scientific experimentation.

They knew no gods, but a dear archangel came to their rescue.  Celeste Gabrielle Lamonte was named after her godfather who had made her conception a reality.  For the second time in her life, Melanie was pregnant, but things couldn’t have been more different.  She was married, surrounded by loved ones, and finally comfortable in her own skin.  By the time CeCe was born, Mel was on cloud nine.  She had always wanted to be a mother, but she had thought she didn’t deserve it, that no-one would love her enough to stay and start a family.  With her husband, her child, and an adventurous, impossible life among the stars, Melanie Lamonte was happier than she even thought possible.

Though that didn’t mean her life was perfect by any means.

Being half Time Lord and half human, Celeste had a peculiar growth rate.  Physically, she aged at the pace of a human, but her mind raced ahead in development.  So at two years old, she was a very curious, very mobile toddler.  It seemed like every day Melanie found herself running through the TARDIS, calling out her daughter’s name and praying to God that she didn’t get into anything too dangerous.  On the bright side, that had helped her lose some weight she’d been carrying since her pregnancy.  Mel tried to focus on that bright side instead of letting her mind wander into terrible ‘what if’s.

Still, the young mother was red-faced and out of breath by the time she made it back to the console room with a very squirmy toddler in her arms.  “Why… did she have… to take after you?” Mel gasped out to her husband, her long, brown hair a mess of curls framing her round face.