#gotta look up drugs. AGAIN. so many drugs to research!!!!

[orcelito]

Ykno being on a big arc is all fine and great

Until I remember that I'm the one who has to write it hfkshfkdb

[toyybox]

Spiderwebs #11: Dollhouse

Masterlist

content: lab whump, captivity

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

The bed was bought from a garage sale, a cheap but sturdy thing from somewhere downtown. It came with a matching nightstand, so Heather had that taken care of. She considered buying a lamp, but giving Jackie anything close to a weapon was a bad idea. 

“What do you mean, a brush that isn’t sharp?”

Heather tried her best to sound polite. “I mean, if someone tries to stab me with that toothbrush, they won’t get very far. Something like that.”

The general store employee gave her an odd look, so Heather gave up and bought the least dangerous looking one. The mattress was ordered online. Heather was able to buy a few sets of clothes, alongside gloves and a new pair of black boots that would fit better than the old shoes Heather had let him borrow. She acquired a stronger light bulb, a nicer blanket, a pillow, and a shell-white bedsheet. A writing desk would be necessary for certain experiments, so she blew a few bucks on that. And a better chair, of course. Heather knew she was getting carried away when she almost bought a rug.

Three days passed before she could acquire everything. She didn’t visit Jackie in that time. She had left him food and water, obviously, and assumed he would figure the rest out by himself. She had enough on her hands with all the boxes in her living room, and the incessant calls. There were so many calls.

Heather lifted the phone for what must have been the sixth time that hour. “What is it now?”

“Heather, please!”

She heard that word a lot lately. Heather hung up without a moment’s hesitation. The phone rang again, however. It would keep ringing unless she answered. Her old boss was a determined man, even if he was a tad oblivious. 

She lifted the phone again. “Listen, I’ll let you talk once. But this is the last time you call me, or I’m placing a restraining order.”

“Yes, of course.” There was a deep exhale on the other side of the line. “Heather, the organization needs you. Nobody else can work on that project. You were our best asset, face it. Half these idiots don’t even know how to operate a Bunsen burner. We need you.”

“Nice speech, but don’t kid yourself. You need my money.”

“So what? Maybe we need your money. The coffee machine ran out of coffee three weeks ago! Come back, and we’ll give you the highest position possible. All the benefits. Come on, you’re a reasonable person, you gotta come back.”

Heather brought the box cutter out of a drawer. “Yeah, thanks, but I’m legally not allowed back there. Go find someone else to leech off.”

“You tried to drug one intern, who cares?”

“The police!” she snapped. “If the higher-ups hear of this, the authorities will get involved, and I know you can't afford a lawyer. Don’t call me again.” 

“Fine, fine. But it doesn’t have to be official, you know, just come with the money and we’ll collaborate in private. No more drugging the interns, but we’ll get some monkeys, whatever. What else are you planning? You aren’t working with someone new already, are you?”

“It’s been a month. What did you expect?” Heather ran the boxcutter along the taped edge of the bedframe’s box. “I’ve got another project. I’m not coming back. Goodbye.”

With that, she hung up and cut the last of the tape off. Damned bureaucrats. Sticking their nose where the money was like a pack of bloodhounds. Had all the politeness of a stray dog, too. Heather was done with them.

The research facility she used to work at had been dreadfully boring. Her colleagues shared different interests, to say the least. Benevolent, but horribly tedious interests. It was challenging, working on curing glioblastoma cancer, but she didn’t really care about curing diseases. She wanted to break the boundaries of what was considered science. She wanted to tear the universe apart and mesh it back together by her own design. Curing cancer was fine, but it was nothing compared to immortality. Those mice pumped full of steroids and painkillers were nothing in the shadow of Jackie Rockwell. 

Speaking of, Heather was ready to check up on him. A thick, black scarf had been tossed aside on a sofa. She grabbed it, made her way across the hallway, then knocked on the basement door.

“Who’s there?”

She rolled her eyes, though he couldn’t see it. “Very funny.”

“Very funny who?”

Good to know he was awake, at least. She turned the lock and swung the door open. Jackie lay sprawled on the floor, still tangled in the blanket, surrounded by empty granola bar wrappers. 

Heather waved her box cutter at him. “What are you doing?”

He froze. His neutral expression shifted into slight alarm. It reminded her of the incident, as she’d taken to thinking of it, after she had cut him open. That made her guilt weigh a little heavier. And that made her anger burn a little brighter. She had no idea what past Heather was thinking. Hugging her test subject was one of the most unprofessional situations she could think of. The worst part was that it had actually felt nice—but that didn't make any sense! Heather was not lonely. She was alone, but not lonely. 

All she wanted was to forget about that mistake and move on with the experiments. That was nothing but a misstep, a fumble in the first half of the game. Nothing more.

“It’s not for you.” She pushed the blade closed and pocketed it. “Unless you decide to do something stupid.”

He relaxed, sighed, and sat up. “I’m not doing anything. There’s nothing to do here.”

“You’ll be happy with the change of scenery, then.” She stepped down the stairs. “Close your eyes.”

“I'm getting deja vu.” He closed them anyway. 

Heather stepped behind him and wrapped the scarf around his eyes, twice. “Can you see anything?”

He shook his head. 

“Excellent.” She pulled him up by the arms, and he staggered to his feet. “Follow my lead. Don’t take the blindfold off.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Exactly.” 

With her hands firmly on his shoulders, she steered him up the stairs and out of the basement, then up another flight of stairs and down the hallway to her bedroom. There, she led him into a closet.

He felt for the walls, pushing his hands upon the sides. "Is this another experiment?"

"No. I have business to attend to. I don't want you running off in the meantime."

"The blindfold's a bit unnecessary."

"Is it?” She shut the closet door, then locked it. “I’ll be back soon. Don’t make too much of a mess.”

First of all, his room was filthy. The basement was splattered with blood and ash, filled with junk, and smelled like a slaughterhouse. The empty mirror was easy enough to move. The old dresser was pushed out without much effort, as were the remains of the table. The freezer was harder. She rolled it upstairs on an appliance dolly, as slowly as possible. 

Bloodstains weren’t hard to clean. Piles of peroxide powder scattered over the floor broke down the copper-red splotches, while she cleared out the garbage and rotting food. Dusting and sweeping took a good ten or fifteen minutes. Clumps of dust and flakes of charcoal soon lay in the bottom of a black garbage bag. 

The smell was harder to get rid of, now that it had time to seep in and settle, but she managed to cover it up with a few sprays of air freshener. Twenty minutes were spent on setting up the furniture, building the bed frame and putting the mattress on, then moving everything else into place.

By the end, Heather had to admit she was proud of her work. She never knew interior design could be so entertaining. That stillness, that empty perfection—it was all so fascinating. It reminded her of a diorama. After all, the room was primarily a safe environment for her subject. A contained space to observe him. An insect in a glass jar. A doll in a dollhouse.

Jackie was leaning against the closet wall when she came back. “Took you long enough.”

“Did I say you could take the blindfold off?”

“It’s a closet, what’s the big deal?”

She ripped the scarf from his grasp and placed it back over his head, despite his irritated expression. “Stop complaining. Come on.”

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Once they reached the basement, she lifted the scarf away. 

He rubbed his eyes. He walked around the room in sprawling circles. He sat down on the bed, at last. His arms fell gently into his lap. Then, he looked back at her over his shoulder, eyes full of an apathetic uneasiness, and did not move. There was something very candid about it.

“Well?” she asked. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s stupid,” he replied at once. “Do you wanna know why I think it’s stupid?”

“No.”

“You’re putting so much effort into this,” he continued. “You think this is going to be a permanent thing. It’s ridiculous. It’s a waste of your time. It’s a waste of my time. You can’t keep me here forever.”

“I can’t?” She smiled, faintly amused. “You’re right. Forever is a long time. It’s only until one of us dies.”

“I will kill you.” That candid air snapped as he rose to his feet. 

“Oh, you can try. If you need me to teach you another lesson—“ She pulled out the box cutter from her pocket, pushing the blade open—“I’d be happy to help.”

He sat back down, simmering with rage. “I can’t wait to see you rotting in prison, you fucking creep.”

“Oh, boo hoo. I’m a monster because I gave you a home. You have to live here, so what? I’m the one doing all the work. I’m the one taking care of you.” She pointed at him with the blade. “All you have to do is sit there and be quiet.”

“I have a home!” he snarled. “I already have a home! I don’t want you to take care of me. I didn’t ask for you to fucking kidnap me and keep me in your fucking basement. I don’t want to be your fucking test subject. I want to go back home, back to my home. I want to leave.”

“We don’t always get what we want, do we? If whining about it makes you happy, then you can keep whining. You can kick and scream the entire way. You’re still not leaving.” His glare only dug into her harder, and she sighed. “Try thinking of this in a positive way. It’s not all bad.”

“Yes, I’m sure a positive attitude will fix everything,” he replied tartly.

“A positive attitude will make you less insufferable. Just a suggestion. Maybe there’s a reason you used to live alone.”

“All because I didn’t say thank you to the psycho who kidnapped me.” He crossed his arms. “Gee, why didn’t I think of that? That’s a great way to make friends, isn’t it? Hey, maybe people would like you more if you didn’t rip their intestines out. Just a suggestion, you know. Maybe people wouldn’t think you were such a freak if—“

“Do you want to eat dinner or not?”

“I want to break your neck. Go to hell.”

Oh, how dare he. How dare he. Heather wanted to make him suffer for that. She wanted to hurt him. She wanted to—but she needed to take her own advice and think logically for a moment. Of course he was angry. Who wouldn't be? He was scared, she knew that, and anger was how he tried to protect himself. Anger was his tooth and claw when he lost all his other weapons. It was only natural, even if it was idiotic. He'd see her point eventually. He'd get used to it. She didn't need to starve him. 

"It's alright," she said. "You're upset. I'll get you something to eat."

"You want to drug me again, don't you?” He scoffed. “I'll pass."

"You'll change your mind."

His expression said otherwise, but he would cave in eventually. Like rusted metal, all things could be worn down with time. Like frayed fabric, like rocky shores, like entire mountains. Who was Jackie in the face of all these things? Only a man, only an animal without any claws. Even an immortal couldn't win against the nature of things. The second hand would wear him down, sooner or later.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Taglist:

@theelvishcowgirl

[winderlylandchime]

Okay 3/3 I AM SO SORRY! But i really wanted you to get the full gist of this since this was the episode that kind of started it all without him even realizing it.

‘..oh no offense to Brian but I would NOT sit on that swing set…haha that kid does not want that bat! He is an ally just like me and he knows the horrors! OH SHIT HE REMEMBERS! HE REMEMBERED AND BRIAN IS SO FUCKING WORRIED FFS CAN SOMEONE MAKE HIM ADMIT HES IN LOVE ALREADY BECAUSE I AM ONLY ONE MAN AND I CAN ONLY DO SO MUCH!’ He is saying all this while looking at me as if its my fault the writers wrote this. ‘Im happy for mel and linds so no offense my dudes, but yall suck as a couple.’ Ive been waiting all episode for the last scene to happen and when i looked at him, he just put his hand up and shushed me. ‘oh bri bri was scared! What did i say?! He looooves him! Yeah Brian why didnt you tell him you tried to save him?! Ill tell you why: GUILT! He is feeling guilty bc he too has ptsd and yet nobody except me for some reason notices that and *points to himself* I am on many many many drug- oh they’re gonna fuck. Justin, are WE ready for this? Oh apparently we are. OH MY GOD THE SCARF! I FORGOT ABOUT THE SCARF! THE SCARF! JUSTIN IS BACK BUT HE STILL HAS IT! I THOUGHT IT WAS ONLY WITHOUT JUSTIN BUT JUSTIN KINDA WASNT HERE EVEN WHEN HE WAS BC HES NOT THEE JUSTIN YET YOU KNOW? I SWEAR IM MAKING SO MUCH SENSE IN MY HEAD! He has the scarf!!! AND JUSTIN SAW IT! OH MY GOD THE SCARF! THE SCARF!!! *hits me repeatedly while just yelling the word SCARF! at me*, okay i am chill! I am calm! This is all normal! HE WANTS HIM INSIDE OF HIM?! OH THATS ONE WAY TO SAY IT! LIKE THE FIRST TIME?! OFC HE REMEMBERS! Brian..bri bri, idk how to tell you this my bro but what you’re doing right now is making love not fucking, so WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY FIRST TIME HMMMM? Do we need to revisit the L word?! THEY ARE HOLDING HANDS WHILE MAKING LOVE! BRIAN WHO ARE YOU FOOLING BC IT SURE ISNT ANY OF US! ALEXA PLAY L-O-V-E BY ASHLEE SIMPSON! *alexa starts playing* OH SHIT i forgot you had that bitch, i was just messing, stop her she’s ruining the vibes for them! This my dear friend is making passionate love after a horrible even- OH MY GOD THE SCARF AGAIN! Im cool, im tota- actually i dont think im cool. That was..i need a cigarette’ he then went outside and when i looked out the window to see how he was doing, he was laying in the middle of the grass in a star position. It took him 10 minutes to come inside, and when he got inside he just went ‘i gotta call mom..but i told her im not watching it. I need someone to listen to my thoughts (OH IF ONLY HE KNEW) i know! Im gonna trick her into listening to me without her knowing whats it about so that way she wont know i watched it’ so there we have it: 1) he went through every emotion on the planet 2)i swear 1 ep takes over an hour to watch bc he keeps pausing/rewinding for “research” 3) our mom will for sure kill me and him too and 4) writing these is chaotic bc i do update the group chat while its happening and then later put it on “paper” for you but holy shit this is A LOT and i always feel bad hdjska

THANK YOU FOR YOUR SERVICE ANON

3/3

[honeysucklethornsandalligtrhorns]

dear lord. TW for mentions of transphobia and related topics.

My mom told me that she wanted to watch a documentary with me, one that she had been hearing a lot about. She said it featured a man who's name she couldn't remember, going all over the country asking people what a woman was. And shockingly, people were so rude to him! He just wanted to know what a woman was. And apparently it was very controversial. for context, I am closeted and genderfluid, though biologically female.

Hearing this, I assumed it would be something interesting; maybe something about how women are perceived, how the idea of a 'real' or 'proper' woman has changed over the centuries/millennia, maybe a dash here and there about societal norms, social constructs, etc.. I expected maybe a bit about trans women as well- nothing negative, just a discussion on womanhood etc., what they as trans women believed alluded to being a woman, since trans women are women, yet they have a different experience with womanhood from cis women.

The documentary turned out to be "What Is A Woman" by Matt Walsh. I quickly realized that oh, this was going to be NOTHING like what I hoped for. Just from watching the trailer and reading the descriptive language in the summary made it clear that this guy wasn't looking for a deconstruction of gender as a whole. The amount of misgendering in this film was appalling, first of all, and I noticed inconsistencies within how he acted on the documentary and how he appeared on things like Dr. Phil.

In this documentary, throughout most of it he seemed to take on the stance of 'guy trying to ask an innocent question sets off liberals and feminists'. He uses humor and the use of a 'calm and collected' attitude to appear like the bigger, correct person. But he seemed especially aggressive in the clip of the Dr. Phil episode he showed, not a man who 'just wants to know the truth', but a man with strong opinions and no respect for the people he was conversing with- a theme I noticed in the interviews as well.

Obviously, I could go over the many poor comparisons he made, such as 'what if I told you I was a black man' etc.. I could also point out that he seemed oh so confused when he was called an asshole at the women's march, even though he was told several times to go away, he visibly made people uncomfortable, and even brought a megaphone to shout at people.

Instead, I raise a counterpoint; what is a man? And, more importantly, why do you give a shit? And yes, again, I could go on about how in this documentary and in conservative media in general, they're extremely fond of describing puberty blockers as 'pumping our kids full of drugs/hormones'. So he could argue that he cares because of the children. But the fact that there's loads and loads of proof that trans kids who don't get proper care will and have committed self harm/suicide? Heck, looking at the bigger picture outside of gender... if it really was all about the children, wouldn't he also be making documentaries about the hundreds of other ways that kids are being harmed by our society?? School shootings, poor healthcare, poor/no access to mental health services, the rise of mental health issues as a whole, etc..

But nope, it's all about the leftists 'carving up' kids.

I will admit, I still have to do some of my own research on a few topics mentioned, like the bit about John Money etc.. But overall, I gotta say that I was not a fan of this documentary. Bonus- I doubt he got consent from the tiktokers featured in the film to actually use/show their tiktoks.

Anyways, trans women are women, and trans men are men. <3 love y'all, sorry this was so long. i have a lot to say on the topic.

[auroramosaic]

im gonna start documenting my experience on testosterone so far! nothing hugely in depth just a lil overview for me to check back later. And bc I'd appreciate having seen some of this, esp the complications, before starting t

SO. I was kind of in a rush to start testosterone as soon as I could. Anxiety about laws and trying to be convinced out of it by family really pushed that faster than was probably smart

And I am multiply disabled - several of the conditions have symptoms that have been worsened to an unmanageable degree by testosterone (namely POTS - i overheat so easily and so extremely now)

Most people don't have to worry too much about side effects or worsening comorbid symptoms when starting HRT, and I'm really Really not tryna start any fearmongering. I just wasn't as fully aware of all the different ways it would affect me (despite the handouts and my own research and everything. Unfortunately my drs weren't super helpful - they asked me for tips and info on testosterone lmfao. Like I know a lotta patients do their own research but please doctors do your own too)

so! changes since starting t: i quickly started gaining a lot of weight, more than the extra food I was eating would've put on me before. I expected this to a degree but it was a lot very fast and surprised me. Also being really greasy all the time means taking more showers (which is physically difficult) or being overstimulated. Voice changes have been nice! I haven't been able to keep any of my upper register which I was curious about but it's opened up a lower vocal range which is really nice. Now I just gotta get used to how my voice fits in there :) body and facial hair are really not as fast as I expected. Those have been slow goes. Facial hair is barely there and body hair isn't too different from first puberty (but then again that's a whole discussion on intersex topics of its own tbh). I was really hit with that first wave of pain and exhaustion that some disabled people talk about with taking testosterone - a wave of fatigue that you push through first before you see any returns on testosterone being energizing. I haven't gotten to the energizing part get and it's been like 10, 11 months?

All of this said, I also have a hormonal IUD in at recommendation of the planned parenthood dr. I've had that for longer than I've been on T and they said it wouldn't be a problem bc that IUD is supposed to just be locally effective? But I still think it's worth knowing. I felt different after I first got that put in and I think it might affect more than was suggested.

anyways. So all that's been goin on and has been making me really sit on why I'm on HRT. Because I want to be, I want changes, but I'm not seeing return on many changes I was looking for, and I am getting a hell of a lot of surprise health issues. This is obvs a conversation to have w my dr when i see her next but I just wanted to document it too. Hormones are really complicated drugs and there can be a myriad of surprise effects! It was definitely worth it for me to start, but now I gotta reconsider what dosage is safe and that's ok. Shit happens like this sometimes. Wish I could tell myself a year ago about all this - not so he'd avoid HRT, but just so we didn't have surprise against us on top of the other stuff lol

[thirstbxtch]

Cash Only

Part II Here

You’re short on cash so you decide to offer Eddie something else instead.

Pairing: Eddie/Reader. No Y/N. Reader is 18+.

Rating: Explicit, 18+ Only.

References to drug use, Blow jobs, Fingering.

Friday night and there's a knock at the trailer door. Not surprising for the line of business he's in, but still he didn't have any scheduled appointments for this evening.

Eddie opens the door to find you, standing on the steps, one hand on the trailer.

"Hey, you have any Speed?" You ask looking up at him.

"Yeah, sure, come on in," Eddie says, motioning you in.

You were one of his regulars. Usually you bought Mary Jane, but sometimes when you had alot of homework or a big test to study for, you wanted Speed. It was mostly just functional.

You follow Eddie back to his room.

"How many do you want?" He asks crouching down to the drawer where he keeps his stash.

"Five."

"Five," Eddie echoes, finding the pills and counting them out before putting them in a little baggie.

He stands, turning to hand you the bag.

"That'll be $75."

You take your wallet out of your back pocket, opening it up and counting the bills within.

Fuck. You're short. You're way short.

You count them again, and then again one more time.

"Is there a problem?" Eddie asks mildly.

You bite your lip, counting one more time just to be sure.

"Shit," you curse to yourself, staring down into your wallet, trying to think of anything else you could offer instead.

You've seen the way boys look at you now, Eddie included. Sometimes he stares too long at your mouth or your chest, or how you can generally feel his gaze when he thinks you won't notice.

And you can't deny you've done some looking yourself. Those soft brown eyes, long brunette hair, lean torso, slender hips. Nimble fingers that have expertly rolled joints for you.

You shut your wallet and slip it back into your back pocket.

"Look, I'm short," you say finally meeting Eddie's gaze, "but I can blow you for it." You offer casually like this is something you do all the time--offer blowjobs in exchange for drugs.

"Woah," Eddie says drawing the baggie back, "you know the rules. No cash, no drugs."

You take a step closer, and Eddie eyes you suspiciously.

"Didn't know you were one for following the rules," you lilt in return.

"Every man's gotta have a code," he replies very matter of fact. "Look, I could sell you less, how much cash do you have?"

You shake your head.

"No, that isn't going to work. I need five. I have to write my research paper this weekend."

Eddie's backed up against his nightstand now, and you just a few inches away.

"Not my problem, princess," he replies, turning to drop the baggie in the top drawer of his nightstand.

You sit on the edge of his bed while he's turned away, leaning back on your arms.

He's turns back to you now, caught off guard by the sight of you on his bed.

Sure you've been in his room before to buy, but you've never been on his bed, looking up at him through lowered lashes the way you are now.

You bite your lower lip now, intentionally this time, releasing it slowly and Eddie's brown eyes track the movement.

"You sure about that?" You ask.

Eddie curses softly and looks down at the floor, shaking his head. You're almost certain he's going to kick you out when he raises one finger.

"Just this one time," he says, lifting his head to look at you.

"Yeah," you say gently, nodding before he can change his mind and reach out to hook two fingers in his belt loop to tug him closer, "just this one time."

He sits on the bed next to you and you dispel any awkwardness by placing a hand on his thigh and turning your face into his neck.

He always smells good like cheap aftershave and cigarettes with the earthy tinge of pot just beneath, but it's so much better this close. Intoxicating. Your nose is brushing the skin of his throat and you can't help yourself, you press a kiss just beneath his jaw, and his breath catches. It's a strangely intimate gesture for a drug transaction, definitely something that Eddie wasn't expecting. You place another lingering kiss below it, sliding your hand higher up his thigh.

Eddie tilts his face up, allowing you more access to the line of his throat, and you leave a trail of kisses down to the collar of his shirt, undoing his belt and jeans. He's already half hard by the time you cup him through his boxers, teasingly stroking him through the fabric, before you pull your hand away, licking the palm, and slipping it past the fabric this time.

He bites back a little sound that goes straight through you and glance up to see him biting his lower lip, eyes closed. You look away before they can flutter open again, stroking him lazily, enjoying the feel of him beneath your hand, and it only takes a few strokes to get him hard.

You slip off the bed and onto the floor. Eddie spreading his legs wide for you to kneel between, watching you with darkened eyes. This should feel wrong. He's not some creep who exploits women for sexual favors. But somehow it doesn't. Not when you're looking up at him like that, like you actually want to be on your knees in front of him. He's gotten off to the thought of it before, but his imagination has been a poor substitute for the reality.

You pull his cock out from the slit in the front of his boxers. He has a nice cock. Grasping it lightly, you lean in, licking the underside of the head deliberately, keeping eye contact with him. Eddie's brows crease together, and he bites his lip again, moaning, continuing to watch as you close your eyes and begin to bob up and down, occasionally swirling your tongue around the tip.

He puts a hand on your head, rings tangling in your hair.

"Fuck," he sighs, "'s good."

Eddie finally closes his eyes and tips his head back. He's not going to last long at all if he continues to watch your pretty mouth swallow his length, and some selfish part of him wants this to last.

You glance up to see Eddie's closed eyes and upturned face, hair falling over his shoulders. Gorgeous. You take the opportunity to discreetly undo your jeans with your free hand and slip it into your panties where you're soaked and aching.

You hum around his length at finally getting some relief, but Eddie doesn't seem to notice, face still upturned. You continue to lick, suck, and stroke him and when you finally deepthroat him, he groans out a string of curses.

"God-motherfucking-damnit, sweetheart, fuck, yeah, so fucking good."

He looks down to see your hollowed out cheeks and your lips wrapped around the base of his cock. Can feel your throat flex as you try not to gag, and then your mouth is sliding back up again, bobbing to halfway a few times, before doing it again.

"Christ," Eddie slurs between labored breaths, fingers tightening in your hair, he wants more than anything to thrust up into that hot, wet mouth of yours.

He shifts his hips experimentally, shaft sliding against your tongue, and you take the hint, stilling for him, and he thrusts shallowly up into your mouth, just grazing the back of your throat. You can feel his cock begin to throb on your tongue and it's only a few more shallow thrusts before Eddie's moaning, loudly, spilling down your throat.

You swallow it all and suck him lightly through the aftershocks until he gives a hiss of oversensitivity, releasing him with a soft pop.

Eddie's catching his breath, looking down at you with wide dark, eyes. At your flushed cheeks and your swollen, spit slick mouth, just begging to be kissed.

You hold his gaze before slipping your other hand out of your panties, and the movement doesn't escape Eddie's notice. He's not sure how he hadn't noticed it before--

"Wait, were you?" He asks lowly.

"Yeah, I was," you admit plainly. No point in trying to deny what he had already seen.

Heat shoots straight down Eddie's spine.

"You think I'm just going to let you walk out of here with that pussy all wet for me," he says hotly and your eyes flicker, still processing his words as he hauls you up onto the bed with him.

He tucks himself back into his boxers before pushing you down against the mattress, pausing a moment before undoing your jeans, silently verifying permission, and you nod.

He pulls your jeans halfway down your thighs, staring at the wet spot soaking through your panties and groaning. He half lays on top of you, supporting himself on one arm as he pushes your panties to the side with his right hand, and slips two fingers inside you, voice cracking as you moan, you'd been so close when you were blowing him, and he doesn't waste anytime curling and pumping his fingers in a quick rhythm.

Your lower back curves away from the bed. His face is so close to yours. Your eyes meet, both dropping to the other's mouth and back again. Fuck. Eddie can't help himself, he kisses you, open and deep and sloppy, tongues sliding together, he pumps his fingers harder, pressing his thumb against your clit.

Your voice comes out embarrassingly high.

"Fuck, Eddie, yes," you keen, blacking out and clenching tightly around his fingers, you can even feel his rings, fuck, it's so good and he strokes you until your eyes flutter back open, then collapses next to you, face pressed against your shoulder.

It's just long moments of the sound of your breath together, and you're not sure what to say, but thankfully Eddie saves you.

"That was worth a lot more than five hits of Speed," he says contentedly.

"Do I still need to bring cash next time?" You ask, somewhat smug.

He nods against your shoulder before looking up at you.

"Sorry sweetheart, blowjobs don't pay the bills," he replies.

You laugh.

"A real businessman, aren’t you? Alright then," you get off the bed, zipping up your jeans, and generally straightening up, "I'll have cash next time." You promise, kissing him on the cheek.

He retrieves the baggie of Speed from his nightstand drawer and places it in your open palm.

"Great," he stands, zipping himself up as well.

Eddie walks you to the trailer door, stepping outside after you to have a smoke.

"Good luck with your paper," he calls, watching you walk away.

"Thanks, Eddie," you call back over your shoulder and get into your car.

Off to the library then.

[sly-merlin]

KILLING ME- 14

pairing : law student!reader + yuta

genre : (fluff)  angst , mafia au/ arranged marriage au.

warnings of this chapter : cursing, mention of drugs, character death.

words : ~4k

summary :

“life’s never fair y/n. realise it as soon as you can . it is the only secret for living a regretless life.”                                  

or            

“ curiousity got the cat hitched”

K.M masterlist

K.M 13

TAGLIST : @kpop-choco @moon-yuta @kawaiiayasan @btm-taeyong @exfolitae @lanadreamie @cheersskznct ​​ @hyuckiesgf ​​ @theworld-accordingtocasey ​​@simplybree

@yiyi4657 @sorrywonwoo @sillywinnergladiator   @minejungwoo @leesalts @mal-nakamoto23 @ro2424 @itlittlefangirl @nctzens-world @bl–ankhaeji @jeaneteflo @nuoyii @bralessmermaid @minhoseyeliner @tyongpoetry @swimmingkpopblog @jkjkseo @orphicmoon @floralescapes

A/N : this chapter marks the celebration of this blog surpassing 600 followers! thank you so much for all the support! also for minor readers, the sfw versions of nsfw chapters are given at the end of the masterlist so check those properly before reading.

•••••••••••••

y/n! Are you sleeping?”

Registering his words, you replied in a groggy voice,“What the fuck do you want?”

“Your phone. I left mine in the medical room. I need to call Mark right now.” with some authority, he spoke.

Whining loudly, you fell back on the bed. It was only due but flailing your arms and legs like a kid in a toy store, you let out a screech full of annoyance, cursing your fate.

Were you really going to babysit him now?

"Have you suddenly lost your hearing? Stop with this sick attitude and open the door."

A puff of air left your nose, your chest moved rhythmically with your stomach and you relaxed your arms beneath your head, eyes fixed at the fan above and ears ringing with his voice. He kept calling you and after a number of shouts, you started humming to distract yourself, afraid that you'd end up helping him otherwise. That was something, naturally, you were not interested in. Last time he had ignored your voice and now nature had presented you with an opportunity to return the favour. Just with a bit less flavour.

"Are you dead?"

"Hmmm. To you, yes I am." Mumbling, you yawned and pushed yourself up to reach your side table and fishing out your earphones from the bottom drawer, you untangled them and fixed them comfortably in your ear, hiding yourself underneath the sheets.

Sonata no.14 instantly transported you away from the noise and the stress that was your unwanted husband, yuta. The smile playing on your lips widened as you realised that you were his only mode of communication at the moment.

But You were going for a nap. Until then, he could wait. And thrash. And cry. Or die.

Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you rotated the handle of the door to walk outside but your little trip was interrupted when your body collided straight into a wall. No. The obstruction was too soft for a wall.

Opening your eyes properly, you saw yuta standing stiff. Surprised at the sudden appearance, you immediately stumbled back and in hurry, hit your spine on the wooden door. The glare of his eyes, that always spoke more than you could comprehend, coupled with a clenched jaw, was not a very pleasant sight for sure yet you found it harder to dart your own eyes away from him.

"Your phone" he seethed, breathing deeply.

"Huh?" You croaked out.

He raised his brow and in an instant, the previous scenario played like a short movie in your head. Snapping your head down, you regarded his leg with pity. He obviously noticed it immediately but seemed to ignore it and refrained from saying anything. Good for you, you thought.

"Are you deaf?"

Your furrowed brows met his eyes and with a roll of his own, he picked up his finger to force his demand but you managed to walk back inside your room before he could've done that.

Your back faced him as you contemplated your options while slowly stretching your arm to reach for your phone on the other side of the bed.

should you even be giving him your phone?

You had more trust in Taeyong than the man you shared a roof with so there was no way you were doing that.

Unbeknownst to you, yuta was watching your movements intently and the way you bobbed your head, he knew you were scheming something so he decided to be polite for a moment. Only until you were needed. Or your phone was needed.

Once the phone was in your hand, another thought crossed your mind.

"Wait. Where is the house phone?" Crossing your arms, you asked him slyly, already knowing the answer

"You fucking never got it installed. It's still in its stupid package" he seemed rather impatient.

"And you could've called reception through the door telecom. He would have phoned Mark for you. These rich apartments certainly have more hospitality tha-

"I CAN'T GO AROUND DISTRIBUTING AN UNDERGROUND CRIMINAL'S CONTACT NUMBER TO EVERYONE"

He inhaled and exhaled and you just watched until he opened his eyes again, hand reaching out to you.

"Chill. I've every right to be sceptic especially when you are the one asking for it."

Finding Mark's number on your phone, you called him.

Yuta's hand threaded through his rough hair as he noticed what you were trying to do.

"Hey mark!" Your chirpy voice resounded in the room and yuta was sure this was some different spirit speaking. You sounded too bubbly for the way you were investigating him just a second ago.

"Yes yes. His phone exactly.i don't trust him enough to hand over my phone so that's why I'm calling you myself. Just hurry up if you can or you might have to clean up a dead body in the next few hours."

With that you cut the phone. Without meeting yuta's gaze and resting your hand on the handle, you mumbled,

"He'll be here in an hour."

You were about to close the door when he stopped it with the palm of his hand, alerting you with the force.

"Tell him to get some food too."

And limping, he retired back, to the couches.

Sighing, you messaged mark. Had it been for something else, you'd have ignored but your own stomach had signalled you that it needed some good food so you chose not to fight against your own body.

Now, only the taste of the food could decide how many days you were going to tolerate that barbaric human.

"Are you still going to that stupid internship?" Johnny hesitantly murmured from your desk chair while taking big bites from the plate.

"It's not stupid please! I’m just waiting for them to actually pay attention to my awesome capabilities so they can transfer me to the main branch. This is not bad either but”, you stopped to lick your forefinger and tasting the sauce, continued, “but I really wanna go into the criminal unit. That’s where the actual fun is. As long as i’m being paid decently, i’ll suffer with the stupid research work here.”

“With the tongue as sharp as yours, I think you should be getting ready for a demotion instead” he laughed, showing you his fake bunny teeth in the most annoying and childish way.

“Ha ha ha ha. Some well wisher you are! Thank you so much for looking out for me but I'll be fine. Who knows the gatekeeper’s pay package is more than me. So it’d be a win-win in that case too I guess?” when you did a drum roll with your chopsticks to stress upon your point, he laughed harder.

"So being broke is the new black?" Rolling his eyes, he dragged out, "I swear you kids don't know how this world works."

"And you, grandpa of the century, knows?"

"I'm aware of what I need for my survival and from what I've learnt, you can either take risks or look for job security. In your case, " he fake coughed, "where the proportions of risk taking have already exceeded the acceptable limit, a job security is the best and safest option to choose."

"And that would justify my greed and desire to work for the biggest company of this city."

"Kun. The security you need and the independence you seek would be given by kun. Chois are hmm how to say? Cheap? Yeh cheap. They have no work ethics. "

"Have you worked with them, johnny?"

"No. I'm ju-

"Then was your ex a choi?" You saw his eyes comically and cutely widening at your remark.

"No. My ex wasn't a choi and that's not what I'm saying and you know that."

"Oh. So your ex wasn't a choi. Then a lee? Kim? Im? Oh my god! Look at your cheeks seo!" You dragged out. He shook his head as you kept wiggling your brows at him.

"She was a kim but that doesn't mean I would hate all kims dude. That's baseless and stop ignoring the topic. I want you to apply in Kuns. It's the best option. Do it as soon as you-

"Yeah yeah we'll see about that. First take that bitch back. I can't even nap in his presence. "

"Umm. Yeah. You gotta tolerate him. And besides he's injured. Injured yuta is like a gun without a bullet. He's gonna shout for a day or two and then peace out. He'll be sleeping and reading in his room and you won't even know if he's alive or not."

"Now that's bullshit. What is he going to do here anyway? I hope he can hop himself on one leg because even if the sun rises from the north, I am not going to do a single task for him. He can die hungry , for all I care.”

“Do you think you can endure him for some tasty dinners?”

Clicking your tongue, you quipped, “Do you really think you can buy me with a few homemade meals?”

Day 1

Yes. you were sold. The moment the tasty noodles had melted in your mouth, you knew you had no dignity. And you were indeed ashamed of yourself.

Earlier, Renjun had called you to inform you that he had delivered the food and medicines for yuta and had left your dinner box but he had failed to mention the special and endearing note that was pasted on the glass box. In the curvy letters, it read bitchy piglet and you swore the only person you’d be killing before yuta would be jaehyun. But you were going to use jaehyun to build up your tolerance instead.

When you went out to clean your dishes, he was playing some game on his phone, excitement evident from the way he was laughing every other second. Maybe if he remained occupied, he would not be so insufferable.

Day 3

"Oyii! Oyii!"

No. You were wrong. He was very very much insufferable.

At midnight, his voice echoed, disturbing your sleep. You cursed at the cool atmosphere that had prevented you from using the air con which otherwise would have blocked his annoying screeches. But it seemed like bad luck wanted to change its name to y/n instead. With your name being called like a broken record, it was a fight between you and him that you were not going to lose. Shuffling to your side, you covered your ears with the other pillow and tried to drown out the annoyingly demanding and hoarse voice. There was no way you were giving him the satisfaction of having any power over you. He could cry for all he liked!

“What the fuck do you want at this hour?”

Attempting a glare at him through sleepy lids, you spewed with irritation. Unlike you, he was very much awake, breathing with the sole purpose of making you question your whole existence.

“Pillow” scratching his non-existent beard, he mumbled.

Your nostrils flared and jaw clenched at such inconvenient command.

“You summoned me for a pillow? A pillow that can normally be found on a person’s bed? Can you please rectify your demand or did I just simply hear something wrong?”

The opened curtains and the moonlight that drenched the room was the only source that illuminated his face for you and even with drooping eyes, you could see how serious he was and yet you couldn't hold your tongue back because he simply deserved every shit you bestowed him with.

“Turn the lights on and count the pillows on my bed! And when you are done, get me some pillows from your room.” he simply stated.

“Why should i give you my pillow? I need them!”

“Because I don't use a pillow and I need it asap!”

“Then why do you suddenly need one? To disturb my sleep? Oh that makes sense.” and suddenly, your eyes had synced with your body to side with your fight mode.

“I need them for elevating my leg. The bandage is too tight and it’s not comfortable.”

“Then why don't you walk out of the room and get some cushions for yourself!” you raised your volume.

“Because my leg is in pain and i’m unable to get up? What makes you think I'm dying to see your ugly face at this time of the night. I dont wanna have nightmares of you as well but i can't help it ok!”

“you should have kept them near you. And who are you calling ugly hmm? You poop fac-

“Okay scream for all you want! But get me a pillow when your battery dies down!”

“What the fuck d- are you covering your ears? Wow ways to be generous!”

Stomping your foot, you left the room to get the hardest cushion on the couch.

“Here! Next time call Mark if you want anything. Don’t raise your voice ever again to call me because unlike you, i have work in the morning and hence I need some sleep..”

Just when you were about to leave after shoving the cushion in his hand, he spoke up again,

“This is damn hard! I asked for your pillow specifically and not th- AHH!”

A scream left him as you harshly removed the support , leaving his leg to painfully meet the mattress.

“How about you fix your attitude before fixing your leg?” suggesting, you dropped the cushion on the floor and left.

He didn't call you after that. Nor that you cared. However, the sleep in your eyes somehow vanished. Dancing on your sides didn’t help. Neither did drinking a glass of water. So, with a groan, you listened to your conscience and picked up your extra pillow that was sadly too perfect for your enemy.

Padding to his room, you tried your best to scrutinise and hearing his heavy snores, you placed the pillow right under his thigh and the cushion under his calf. Scoffing at his sleeping figure, you internally groaned to remind yourself that you hadn't done it for him. It was just a debt. For the blanket he had once covered you with. Nothing more and nothing less.

Day 5

You just wanted him out of your hair. He was just being a load on your head. At first, only the work was kicking your ass, then jungwoo was kicking you like a punching bag for an hour straight and adding to your distress was yuta.

"I'm not your maid! Stop piling up the dishes for me. I've had enough mercy on you. From today onwards, get a cleaner for yourself or buy disposable cutlery. I'm not going to clean after you!"

With a roll of his eyes, he had ignored you.

And so did you. Pasting a warning note on the sink tap, you had left for the library with a dying hope that maybe the kitchen would be spotless on your arrival or you'd be dialing some numbers in the evening.

For someone who despised the solemn atmosphere of libraries, you had successfully spent 11 hours in the said hellish room. It was 11 p.m and you wanted to sleep, more than anything but here you were, waiting for yugyeom so he'd just pick you up for a good drinking session that you were dying to have.

Fortunately, you weren't the only one who had missed living these past days. Everyone, for different reasons, was suffering so you felt a little less bad for yourself even though you knew your troubles were far more grave than their academic burdens.

"Wake up shorts" someone whispered in your ear. Squirming on your seat, you whipped your head in your sleepy state and found jungkook caressing your head, goofily smiling at you.

"I thought you wanted to hang out till the next morning" air quoting the last words, he picked up your bag.

"Yeah. Let's go. I'm all ready for a night full of vodkas." You yawned out.

"Definitely. No. You are going home. We can have a small get together me and yuggy are done with our final project." He dragged you out into the parking lot.

" I feel like it's been years since we got drunk together. You are never here anymore!" You whined at him, complaining your heart out.

"I will be. Soon. Then we can celebrate your little choi job as well."

"Oh please. Don't even mention it. If I had penny for every time they rolled their eyes at me, I'd be richer than your parents kook." You huffed out and as his gentle laugh surrounded you, you closed your eyes resting your back against the seat, expecting to be up by the time he'd park.

But the next day, you woke up tangled in the sheets of your bed, unaware of the events of the previous night.

When you had warned yuta about the dirty dishes, you hadn't expected him to fill the corners of the kitchen with disposable containers. It looked like you had missed a whole drama while sleeping in the library. The kitchen was shining except for the new utensils. But as long as you were not babysitting him, you were fine with anything. You didn't want to jinx your relief, however, you were glad you would be able to get some work done. finally.

You had spoken too early for your own good. Just when you sat down to write your paper, passionate and enthusiastic howls of that man pierced through your earphones and once again, you opened the window and hopped outside, in the balcony, ready to drown him out. Sipping on your lemonade, you gaped at the scenery the not so distant traffic provided you with and somehow, your thoughts wandered to the only person these horns reminded you of. Johnny.

What are you doing? Your fingers hovered over the text but once again, you deleted the message, declaring it to be too childish for someone as mature as him. Maybe you were just being silly. Maybe you were not. But who was going to put a stamp on your maybe?

Tears pricked your eyes as the harsh words of your senior thundered in the room. He kept shouting and you had no option than to consume each and every word he directed at you. Even if you were being insulted in front of your twenty other co-workers, staying quiet was the best option, you ascertained. so along with your saliva, you gulped your explanations down your throat.

Howsoever unconscious, you were still in the wrong. There was no excuse as to why you had mailed the wrong bills, apart from the headache that was caused by the person possibly lying on the sofa and watching t.v back home. No matter how much you tried to run away from his existence, he had somehow managed to let himself inside your head.

Glaring at the kid who asked for his turn on the park swing, you pushed yourself a little higher, letting the wind greet your stinging eyes as it hit your face in waves. Your phone buzzed in your pocket and you chose to ignore jungwoo for a day as it was the time, you decided, to let all the lessons that the past few months had taught you sink into your mind, to bleed into your soul so you won’t ever be able to deviate from them. Ever.

Only if that was so easy. You knew blaming others for your problems was no solution but trivialising them by not paying heed wasn't a smart move either.

When you reached home, your frustrations had died down. So when yuta simpered and pointed towards your empty container, telling you how he had already finished your supposed dinner, you simply rolled your eyes at him, robbing him of whatever he wanted to achieve by riling you up. Heating up the water, you were about to open the noodles packet when yeong called you.

You stared at the shattered phone screen in disbelief as the endless tears ran down your cheeks. As you verbalised the words to yourself again, your body met the floor with a thud.

Jungkook. Drugs. No more.

Three words had silenced the screeches in your head and your mind busied itself in rejecting what you had heard for it had to be a lie. But what how were you going to ignore the heart wrenching screams that yeong had let out. How were you going to dismiss the truth.

How were you all going to accept it?

••••••••••••••••

next update: Some day between 5-7 June.

[tarjapearce]

Quite The Unexpected (Pt. 8)

WARNING: MENTIONS OF DEATH, S3X SLAVERY, ABDUCTIONS, MILD VOYEURISM, DISRUPTIVE BEHAVIOR, STALKING.

Word Count: 5730

It if wasn't for the sudden operative in St. Louis, The Fox would've been in his new den hours ago. He was clever, but for one minute he thought he'd take the officer's life on the spot as he kept staring at him, as if trying to figure out his familiar face.

But the "You look like a crackhead nephew of mines" saved the officer's life, despite his mind now wondering if he truly looked like a junkie. He had tried his fair shares of drugs besides the usual alchohol. But never actually got hooked as many people in their first attempts.

Cocaine and molly made him euphoric and for some reason primitive, in all the sense of the word, weed made him phylosophical, LSD unleashed his inner chaos, Defalt's digital trips made him bubbly, if it wasn't for the weird footage of himself walking aimlessly and screaming at random things he once found on one of his target's laptop, he was pretty sure he'd be hooked to them.

Stuff like Meth, crack and other hardcore stuffs was out of his plate due to him training and turning his body into a weapon. Drugs weren't his priority, they were a rare thing to keep his mind off, plus, he had better and more useful things to waste his money on.

He got to his new hideout. A single person apartment worthy of his needs and requirements located in a convenient area. He was close to the hospital, and the supermarket. The layout of it all helped him even more to be discreet when it came to hide himself. It was a good place.

The small apartment wasn't much to look at. The creaking of the floor boards perfectly complimented the pale blue of the walls and the drip dropping of a small leak in the kitchen sink. But it provided what he needed, street view windows that showed the street both ways, with a view of the hospital. It was small and quaint but it would serve its use. It was the perfect and unsuspecting hideout.

Once more he unpacked, plugged and connected to the net and got his apps working, then he moved on the suitcase full of the clothes he had bought along his toiletries and other things. The apartment consisted in one master bedroom, a bathroom with bathtub, kitchen, a small laundry area and a small livingroom next to the kitchen. With little to no furnace.

Funny how your whole life fit in a car.

He almost chuckled at it. But right now his mind needed to focus on one thing. You.

It did made his blood go cold when he found out that the police never told you that the people you had helped to put behind bars had relatives that had escaped and continued their business elsewhere. And just when they found out the first woman, he was sure things could go awfully wrong with you if they ever found out about your new identity.

His alarm however reminded him that by this hour you'd be sound asleep. 12 a.m. First he gotta make sure that there wasn't any hidden information left in your digital file.

As he created a backdoor, he was also researching, cloning the data route and access, and so new info appeared. It seemed that everytime they did a routinary check-up and you had to sign something, they scanned it afterwards to keep it as a back up. The last update, was yesterday.

It had the hot-line number your case was referred to, new safety protocols and of course some new observations written among the long lines of information.

"She seems nervous of being in danger again."

"Miss Lille has filed a restraining order against Mason Kozik, in case he has his sentence reduced or comes out early by conditioned freedom."

"Asked for private lines, but refused one almost instantly. Will keep up a check on her."

Her fear is understandable, and even more when the same people hid vital information from her and her safety.

His eyes narrowed upon him reading Mason's name. His lips scowled almost instantly. Seems like he would have to add him to his personal list. As for the private line, he knew that you knew nothing could stop him from finding someone, that was his job after all.

But in all honesty, if you had a private line, he was pretty sure that he would find less fear-inducing ways to reach to you. Something that he didn't want to resort to.

I've caused her enough problems. But I can't let her go carefree when there is a greater danger coming over. A fucking time bomb.

Why do you care, anyways?

His mind almost chided instantly at the ever nonstopping inner debate about you.

It's the least I can do after... everything I did.

Sighing, his weary eyes fixated into a sub-file that had the name of Kyrill Vasilyev, as he dug deeper he found more details as to how you ended up in the witness protection program. Aiden found your alert call to the police, and played the audio.

He felt both proud and quite amazed by the calm and collected way you spoke, despite having a possible murder looming over you and how discreet you were about the whole thing.

The rest of the audio played and he gave a sympathetic light smile. Despite just meeting someone, you didn't hesitate to help, even if that meant risking your life. It felt soothing for him. Why? He wasn't sure but what he knew is that he found, although a bit too late, a new sense of respect for you that went borderline in admiration.

Your bravado and silence had impressed him, however his stomach couldn't help but lurch as he saw the forensic pictures of your copycat. Dead, eyes wide and infused on fear, mouth slightly ajar with blood bubbles popping out of the left corner of her now purple lips and the knife plunged deep in the chest area.

If it wasn't for the brackets and the brown iris of the unknown girl, he could be very much looking at your homicide pictures. And the more he stared at them, the dead woman stared back at him. His sea-green eyes adverted from the image as his hands typed in new codes.

He had underestimated you, in so many ways that he almost slapped himself for being so arrogant. He could understand you a bit better now, but that only made him more uncomfortable by the soft brewing guilt that had been washing over him upon remembering all those things he said to you.

One file however interrupted his train of thoughts. As he clicked into it and read in more, his anger crawled up again to his brain.

" Search dropped a year after Ms. Brownsten was relocated, Special units couldn't find any other solid leads on Vasilyev's relatives. Comissioner Crawley assigned new case."

The more he looked up to it, the more names came in. But undoubtedly they never took a time to sit and tell you about the situation. Minutes slowly poured into hours, and he finally took a nap.

---

By the time he had awoken, it was 12 pm. Lunch time. Once he had got up, washed his teeth and put his gear on, he typed in data so the gps could pinpoint your exact location. And to his surprise, you were outside work, in a bistro. Probably in your lunch break.

Sighing and looking at the dial icon, he hesitated for a couple of seconds, however the buzzing of his phone startled him, Jordi's name displaying on the screen.

"Jordi." " Pearce. How is your new place fitting?" "Have everything I nee-"" "Thank me later. You've got work. I'll send you the files a contact of mines found in the depths of internet regarding a certain someone you're looking for."

His brows rose softly in interest.

"Alright. Send them over."

"Hold up a second, Vengeance. This information isn't exactly free. You see, the more I ask around, the more attention I draw to myself and that's no good. Had to dispose of someone already."

"How much?"

"As much as it hurts to refuse money, this time a favor will do the trick."

"I won't do hired gunwork for you."

"Will you let me finish? Thanks. It's not a fixer's job. Is a hacking and observation task. My contact gave me this adress, needs a backdoor installed and a total wipeout. Apparently the files I'm sending you were in a russian server. A very private looking one by the way, whatever that means."

His eyes narrowed as the files begun to show up in his inbox.

"What exactly I am looking at?" "Guest lists, clients, the merchandise names and ages, drugs menu, you name it."

"Sounds way too good to be true."

"I can tell you, as he explained it to me, it was amateur's luck. Is it useful or not?" "Just a backdoor and wipeout?"

He heard Jordi on the other line chuckling.

"Just that and following a guy." "Name?" "It's a CEO of a small company. His data will also be included. Let me know when it's done."

Jordi hung up and soon, The Fox begun preparing and after some minutes, he secured his apartment and left it to go to the address the data threw at him.

He was relieved it wasn't hired gunwork, the least he wanted to cause was a ruckus or draw more unnecesary attention towards him. The address took him to a comercial avenue, to a lawyer firm to be more precise.

He parked on across the three floored building, paid the parking meter and sat on the bench. He looked like a posh man. Black turtleneck and trenchcoat, brown leather boots and pants along a watch on his left wrist and a cream colored Gatsby cap.

As people passed by, he was hacking. He took a quick peek of the information, and to his not surprise there were funds being rerouted to an account in foreign lands. It took him solid 10 minutes to install the backdoor and soon, the wipeout begun.

The sudden frustrated screams could be heard from his spot. It was all quite the show. Aiden could spot a man on the second floor's window,  yelling and throwing things upon realizing what was going on. The man could only watch as all the info was lost. A soft beep confirmed that his job was done.

A buzz however, gave him the gps position of the current target.

"Lucky day." Sarcasm dripped from his tone as the screen displayed "Di'Luca's Bistro."

Hopefully (Name) is long gone from the place.

Before the neurotic-looking man could spot him, he stood up and left. The Bistro was a couple of blocks away and  it was kind of a win win for him. He got to walk and watch you both.

The more he approached, the more dread crept up to his chest. But business was business and after all the information he was receiving, messing up was out of question. Crossing the street he saw a couple of street artists performing, playing instruments or theatricals.

The soft jazz tune was being played, loud enough to entretain without overwhelming the passbyers. The tune made him feel like he was in a movie, soft and mysterious notes played, ironically, he chuckled. The spot was perfect, he could see the outside layout of the bistro.

Some people in the outside tables, drinking, eating and enjoying themselves, so he sat at the waiting benches outside the stores across the street.

His target however was inside, so he hacked the cameras to observe him. The CEO was talking to a man, both with a beer and snacks. His Profiler app gave him a name.

"Peterson, Jonathan. 53. Occupation: CEO of A & J Logistics. 

Income: $156,000.

Accused of fiscal fraud"

"Greyman, Michael. 42 Occupation: CEO of PubliStop. 

Income: $79,940. Tax Evader"

His finger tilted by accident the camera's movement when a new data came in.

"Lille, (Name). 31 Occupation: Registered Nurse.

Income: $77,680. Protected Witness"

He swallowed thickly upon him seeing your silhouette in the outside lateral tables behind some decorative bushes.  His target however talked for a few more minutes to the elder man and left, leaving his beer intact. Aiden's fingers quickly tapped what he had witnessed to Jordi's contact, finishing the business to finally resume his main purpose.

The jazz beats turned into a more mellow and a hint of sultry tune, and again, the feeling of him being in a movie took over. His screen displayed a decent resolution video of you.

Sitting alone, reading what it seemed to be the menu, your fingers dragged slowly through the words, picking your food. The background music felt a bit surreal by how how well it matched the aeathetic of it all. Your legs crossed, leaving a portion of your generous thighs exposed.

His adam's apple downed softly. The dress that you were wearing hugged your shape and curves all too perfectly,  the low heel shoes that always matched with your outfit, your new tattoos, your blue eyes, sweet-looking face and the music  made his eyes to advert for a moment as he cleared his throat softly.

it's called voyeurism.

Something that he couldn't explain was how much you could change within a small amount of time. Everytime he decided to leave, you got different. It was as if you were trying to look the opposite of Clara and unlink yourself from everything regarding to her.

Those words must've stung her really bad for her to change this much.

No. You've been always different from Clara. Even the first time you both met, it was all different. The only alike you had with her was some facial features, like the well shaped nose, the plump lip along the blue eyes and face shape.

Fool of you to assume her change was because of you.

His green eyes looked back at the screen and you still were there, picking your food when a waiter came in with a drink.

Wednesdays days off.

Soon, a familiar face popped up and you beamed. If he could recall, it was Rita along her wife and another woman he didn't identify right away, until the profiler scanned each one of them.

"Vasquez,Rita. 35 Occupation: Advanced Practice Registered Nurse. Income: $105,500. Collects international Beers"

"Hyung-Vasquez, Rose. 41 Occupation: Interior Designer. Income: $59,700. Escaped North Korea"

"Blackwood, Julia. 27. Occupation: Registered Nurse. Income:$77, 680. Addicted to supermarket coupons."

The women greeted and soon they all took a seat. The camera solely focused on you, it watched every of your moves. He could see some small piercings in your right ear. His eyes took in as much information as they needed. He noticed a beautymark on the left side of your crossed thigh, another one in your ankle and another one hovering over the supple curve of your breasts.

Focus, Pearce

Moments like these reminded him that he was still a man and still he felt like slapping himself for feeling like an utter creep. He took a final look on the screen and that's when he saw you talking through the phone. the woman named Julia came close your phone and you both giggled as you tried to shoo her away. There was a shade of red in your cheeks once you put your device away.

He logged out the camera, accomodated his cap and left. He had new information regarding you and his prey. By the looks of it all, you seemed overall happier, but of course he knew not everything was as it seemed. Just because he couldn't see the danger, meant it didn't exist.

You remained blissfully ignorant to what was happening around you, and he was there to try and make sure you were kept that way.

When he returned his place, all the info was finally downloaded along a thank you message. He had gotten some pizza delivered as he was gone, and so his work begun again.

The only few times his body rested was either him eating or taking a shower and sleeping. He spent two weeks observing and learning your routine.

Not a creep at all...

He chuckled inwards as he wrote the last bits of your schedule. He already had a map on his wall. Pictures stuck on the wall, trying to connect the plotting and the responsibles behind it all.

Your routine was quite standard. Monday you went to work at 6 am, lunchbreak at 1 sometimes 2 depending on how busy it was, shift ending at 6:30 pm. Tuesdays you entered at 12 pm and left at 6:30 pm. Wednesdays were days off, Thusdays you entered at 6 and left at 12:30, and friday from 6 am to 7pm. Leaving you weekends off.

Your schedule was supposed to be just 3 working days, but you somehow managed to distribute your working hours, making it 4 days, with two half shifts, and 3 days off. A well earned rest. You worked hard and it showed on your income and physique.

Financially you were stable, more than capable of living on your own, spend and save at your will and travel if you wished to. He could see the inversion on yourself, and if he was honest, it had surprised him. It felt like you had a glow up post break up, but come to think of it you both did break that bond. He didn't know how to call it at the moment, but you firmly had said he was your friend.

Was

His fingers hovered above the keyboard, doubting to press the "dial" button. He had awaited for wednesday again, since the least he wanted to do was to interrupt or put you in a bad position at work by distracting you.

Do it.

He pressed the button.

The dialing tone rang three times before your mellow voice came through the line.

"Hello?"

His jaw tensed and so did his muscles. He could hear a bit of your breathing and water running on the back.

Sounds like bath time.

"Hello?"

You dragged the "o" a bit, scoffing subtly before hanging up. His throat was dry and speaking felt raspy. But he just froze. He had disguised his number as one of the customer service from your phone company.

Exhaling slowly and waiting a couple of minutes he tried again. The phone rang 4 times before the call was picked.

"Hello?" He instantly frowned at the sudden unknown deep male voice. His fingertips quietly typed in to record the call.

"I don't think the line's working." "You think?" Aiden could hear you mumbling along the tinkering of some pots and pans.

"I mean, I hope they call to apologize for the shitty internet service I've been having lately."

The male laughed through the phone. "They can still hear you, you know?" "Good. I hope they do. Cause I refuse to keep paying for a terrible service."

"Welp, you heard her guys. Better change that." You laughed softly as some rustling came.

"Leave that phone and come help me. Dinner is almost-"

Aiden could hear clearly a kissing sound before you could finish the sentence. His stomach felt heavy as the conversation kept going.

"Kisses for later, I'm starving." "Alright, alright." " Stop pinching the food! Geez. Uh...Thank you for nothing, bye!"  You hung up the call as you giggled.

He released a long breath as a flood of questions popped in his mind.

Who was that man? Why hadn't he had  seen him during him stalking you the past week? Was he trustworthy?

If he's in her apartment preparing dinner, the answer is a bit obvious, isn't it?

Not only he had to look for more leads to the crime lord, but he also had to keep an eye on you and now, a new thing was added to the list. Finding out who was that guy.

Not to mention his sudden freezing upon him calling you. A text would be quite evident but it'll be more effective, he was avoiding texting you since he knew you'd block him right away.

Better trying than nothing.

"Tomorrow though" he mumbled as he yawned in boredom.

Don't want to ruin whatever fun she's having.

With a goal in his mind, he begun working. Now that he knew where to start he went through the data Jordi's contact sent him. If it was mere amateur's work, wich he doubted, the guy had stopped over a jackpot. But the way the info was extracted, in a whole without being traced was more like a proffessional doing it.

His heart beat faster upon the screen showing him a message.

"Plase, answer the call. :) "

Call?

Seconds later an unknown number called to his phone, and again, it was untreaceable.

Frowning he pushed the green colored icon and the distorted voice that once called him back at San Francisco, echoed again through the line.

"I told you we'd meet up again, Mr. Pearce."

"Who is this?"

"Just a fan of your work."

"And a hacker."

"Ah, that. I'm certainly not. It was mere good luck. I like to think of myself more of an information smuggler and other things. But enough on formalities. Is the information you have, useful?"

"Why are you helping me?"

"I would say... I'm helping myself. You see... the people you are after are a new whole level of dangerous and a common enemy to many many good people."

"And what does this people have to do with you?"

"Nothing, yet everything. Let's say, we are alike in some ways. We dislike injustice."

"Why not going after them yourself then?" "Ahh, you see... If I could even walk or have your skill set, I wouldn't be tasking you with such things. But, I figured a way to reach out to you. You answered the call and now is time to act."

"And you just expect me to trust you that easily?"

"Well, if I wanted to I could put you in Interpol's web profiles within a couple of calls. Or even better, your geolocation to some people that has been mentioning you lately or having a friend of mine doing a wipeout of your data as you were gone. But I haven't, cause I am smart enough to not mess with a man like you."

The voice sighed and smacked it's lips.

"Sometimes, Mr. Pearce, guilt among other negatives manifest through ourselves as rage, fear, presure to do the right thing, impotence. I particularly feel the last one all the time upon seeing how these people have ended so many lives, precious and close to me and others. But again, I found a way to reach out to you, and give you the tools you need to keep on what many people couldn't."

"And why is that?"

"You're the Vigilante, Mr. Pearce. That's why. None else has enough balls to get their hands dirty when the justice we are ruled by is not keeping up their promises."

His fingers held on tightly on the phone and his lips were set in a straight line.

"I am sure you won't let us down."

"What if I fail?" Aiden tested.

He could hear a faint chuckle from the other line.

"Then you fail and move on, Mr. Pearce. We are humans after all. Even you. Even with your knowledge and skills, you can only do as much as you can before someone either kills you or you die a hero."

There was a silence and the mysterious distorted voice spoke again.

"Rest assured, this is the last time we speak or interact. My part in this is done. Now is up to you."

The call ended and Aiden could only look at the screen. And think of what had been said.

It seems I'm stuck with that title for a bit longer.

---- The nursing staff was called on a friday to reunite briefly with the Police. Your floor's  teams were in the lobby as the officers spoke.

"Ok. Ladies and gentlemen, this will be quick. We have had multiple calls reporting underaged girls and women that are kidnapped, forced into sex work and some even disappear. These people use hideouts in hotels and motels from this city. As medical staff and potential lives saviors, you must report any suspicious action. Even when the possible victim is telling you to piss off. Call or text 911 immediately. Code H.T. Any questions?"

"What if the attacker tries to, you know... shoot the girl or take her hostage?"

"Try to not disturb them as long as we get there so we can handle the situation properly" "What if they try to hurt us?" " Then you will have to fight or neutralize them. Remember this, if you are caught in a life or death situation, you either fight or get killed. This people will not hesitate to end a life if that means to escape from justice."

"Wait...is this related to San Francisco's crimes?" "Partially. We can't speak about ongoing investigations, miss. As mostly of us know Eau Claire has had an issue with human trafficking and sex slavery for quite a while. Hotels have been taught protocols they must follow if they ever get stuck in a situation like that, so the San Francisco's cases could be only a mere coincidence."

"We... uh, sadly found the first victim in the outskirts of the city. She was reported missing some days ago. 29, female, her name was Lucianna Bertolli."

"Is there anything you could do?" Julia had asked. Distress visible in her face.

"We are patrolling the areas we might think there is suspicious acivities."

Your blood froze upon hearing Mrs. Bertolli's last name. You had stopped hearing and could only see the officers' lips moving. Trying to warn and advice you the best they could. But you just stood there, shocked by the piece of information.

The officer's soon left and Julia shook your shoulder softly.

"You ok?" "Yeah. Just... gotta check on Mrs. Bertolli." "Uh, she already checked out, (Name). Her family was quite persistant in her leaving after the room change." Rita spoke as she stretched her arms.

"Is everything ok?" "No. Uhm..." you brough them closer to a more private spot and sighed.

"Yesterday I was checking on Mrs. Bertolli and she had asked for a room change. But she was kinda... anxious and uncomfortable, so I asked her what was wrong. Turns out she was like that because of her niece. She had not talked to them in three days. And she told me that no matter how angry her niece got, she always talked to them."

Your lips and throat went dry and for some reason, guilt flooded you.

"I... I told her that... That she'd be fine. That maybe she didn't want to talk in order to avoid hurt someone but... Oh my god... The woman they found is Mrs. Bertolli's niece."

"Oh my god..." Julia mumbled as her hand covered her mouth. Rita could only mimic Julia.

"(Name), mija, I think you should talk to the police." "No, Rita. Mrs. Bertolli told me that they hadn't moved a sole finger in searching her. Ever since she was reported missing. I just... don't think talking to them would solve anything. She has already been found anyways. But... I can't help feeling so bad. She was so distressed about it."

"And now you are. Look, there was no way to know what was happening, (Name). You only did what you thought it was right at the moment. Let's get you a cup of tea to ease those nerves and then let's get back to work, ok?"

You nodded and followed them.

"I certainly didn't know about the sex slavery over here though."

"Ah... well. As much as many people try to convince you that Eau Claire or Wisconsin in general is 100% safe? It's not. You just have to avoid some areas, definitively. But, otherwise you'll be fine." Rita pulled out the french press and put some tea bags inside, to then pour the hot water inside it.

"Besides, you've got Eric. I mean, he looks like a sweet guy. But I'm sure he wouldn't hesitate to kick some ass if needed."

"Heh... yeah, that does sounds like him. He's not the type to just throw punches and expect to solve things with violence."

Like Aiden.

Inwardly rolling your eyes, you drank from the tea Rita served you after a couple of minutes of it brewing, and exhaled softly.

"So... Eric and you are dating? Officially?" Rita spoke as she added sugar to her tea.

"Yup. I will text him about what happened today. He told me about him witnessing a mugging as he was out of town. Gotta make sure he is safe too."

" I think we all should take our precautions from now on. Specially you, Julia." Rita chided the young woman as she sipped from her cup of tea.

"I use Uber, and my driver is my neighbor from years. So... don't you worry. He invited me out actually. About damn time."

The conversation slowly dissipated any negative energy, and changed into a more casual one among you three. When your shift was done you went to your car, phone rang off. It was the company again.

"Hello?" "Good evening, Miss Lille. We would like to apologize profusely with your experience in the past days with our internet service. We'll send on friday a technician to take an evaluation on your current equipment."

"That would be great, yeah." "Perfect. I'm really sorry for your experience again. Any other complains you or Mr. Dudnik would like to file in?"

"What? Eric... I mean... Mr. Dudnik filed the complain?" "Yes, ma'am." "Ah, ok. Uhm about the other thing actually? I think your phone lines aren't working either. I mean, I received a couple of calls two days ago and I never got to speak with someone."

"Pardon?" "Yeah, like, you called me a couple of times two days ago. I thought it was a routinary call." "Oh no, no. Miss Lille. Unless a complain is issued, you wanting to renovate or upgrade the current plan or us inform you about new protocols and billing forms, you needing tech assistance, we have no reason to actually call our customers. Would you like for us to change your wifi password?"

"Yes, please. Thanks anyway." "Have a good day, Miss Lille."

The call was ended, rubbing your face in frustration you tossed the phone away on the passenger's seat. It was as if you had summoned him by mere thoughts. There was a new message in your inbox.

"We need to meet. Aiden P. "

"Oh fuck off and fuck you." Your lips mumbled angrily as your fingers blocked the number. Surely he'd find a way to reach out to you again, but it was no longer an option. At least not for you. His stance in your life had been burnt down completely by his words and his doings. You went home.

---- The message had just been delivered but showed no signs of you. He pressed the dial button.

"The number you're trying to reach is out of service. Please ca-"

He sighed deeply, expecting the outcome. But he would try again. And again if needed to get to you to warn you and tell you all the information he had discovered.

You might not like it, but you had to know one way or another.

And when he got tired of your blocking, new meassures were taken. He could go to your work at the end of your shift, but that would only make you to be even more closed off towards him. But you had left no choice upon refusing to talk through text or calls.

Time for a visit.

[the-broken-truth]

Can you do yandere bully damian wayne with fem reader how is a 🐺🔥🥋 🛡 🏹 🏠 she is like demon Hunter in Gotham and sometimes batman call for her help with joker/villains and goes to Gotham academy

They Heated each other guts and she tolerated him for her best friend Jonathan Kent

Damian was dating raven how was using him as cashcow

one day in park damian get drugged and kidnapped and reader saw all the and follow there car to save him after killing his kidnappers and heal him she comfront him and tell him everything is going to be alright and give him her jacket (which he will keep it for eternity) she dropped him to his house after buying him something to eat when damian get to his father house he sees the no-one care of what happened to him they saw the he got kidnapped and they didn't care at all but reader did and the how the obsession began

*STATIC*: An Obsessive Love Born From Loathing Hate? A Golddigger, as well? Quite an interesting request we have here, Broken.

Broken Truth: That we do, so let's see what words weave together from this.

Quick Note: The name of the reader shall be Kacela - The name means 'Huntress' and is of African Origin. Just like Damien, she is a rich kid but not because her parents are rich - her human parents abandoned her and she started her own business; it's well-known but not on the same level as Wayne Enterprises.

Broken: SORRY IT'S LATE! I'VE BEEN BUSY!

- THE RUNED HUNTRESS -

[On Top Of Gotham's Rooftops - Across from a besieged Research Facility]

[The Joker was at it again but this time he wasn't working alone - he enlisted the aid of Clayface, Poison Ivy, Harley Quinn, Killer Croc, Riddler, and Penguin to take hold of a Research Lab that contained something each member of the crime group wanted; how Joker knew this and managed to use to persuade the villains into working with him is something The Dark Knight couldn't quite figure out. What he did know was that he was going to need some help.]

[At the moment, Damien (Robin)., Dick (Nightwing), and Barbara (Batgirl) were the ones of the Bat-Family that were with him at the moment but the 4 of them weren't going to be enough and - as much as he hated it - he needed aid from a power beyond what his gadgets and training could do.]

Damien (Walks over to Batman, who is standing on the edge looking at the facility): Father, why are we still waiting while those criminals are making a mess of the place?

Bruce: Because we're waiting for someone.

Damien: Who? We have enough people, we can take them.

Bruce: Don't be foolish, Damien. It's the four of us up against seven of Gotham's Worst, plus they have hostages and have access to unknown tech or substances that could put us at a disadvantage. The person I called has abilities unlike our own and can help us a great deal.

[Damien opened his mouth to protest when a smell hit his nose - it smelled like something was burning.]

Dick (Sniff-Sniff): Does anyone else smell something burning.

Barbara: It smells like brimstone.

Bruce: She's here.

[Nightwing opened his mouth to question who 'she' was when a burst of red light from a ball of fire came shooting upward from the edge of the building before falling and landing in the clear space. The ground was scorched from the fire impact and cinders flowed around the air and lined along with the black marks up everyone looked at the person - or creature - that caused it.]

[The creature was large and muscular the body of a wild canine - a wolf - but it stood on 2 legs; except, wolves didn't have 2 horns on their foreheads. The forearms of the beast were scarred with runes that were glowing red against the black fur. The creature began to stand on 2 legs - its height towered over Bruce - and opened its eyes to reveal eyes made from hellfire. The humanoid wolf opened its jaws - letting the hot smoke out - as it began to speak to the Head of the Bat-Family.]

Wolf Creature: Dark One (What she calls Bruce), I'm answering your persistent summons. Why have you decided to bother me this time?

Barbara: Summons? (Looks at Bruce) Bruce, what is that thing?

Wolf Creature (Glares at Barbara): I am not a 'Thing', I am a Wolf Demon while you are the daughter of a cop - playing dress up just to spite him and stick your pointed head where it doesn't belong.

Barbara (Points at the Wolf Creature): Hey, don't call me a...

Bruce (Raises his hand): That's enough. (Looks at the Wolf Creature) Runed Huntress, I know you told me that you're not interested in helping me but this is important. Those criminals have many innocent people captured and are trying to access some very dangerous information and products. Our gadgets can only get us so far but your power is limitless. We need your help.

Runed Huntress (Snorts - making smoke shoot out her nose and blow in Bruce's face): Very well, I shall aid you once again but - as I said before - do not make a habit out of this; you are this city's protector, not me.

Bruce (Nods): Noted. (Turns back to the building) Now, let's get a move on.

[The Bat-Family & The Runed Huntress leaped across the building rooftops until they reached the last roof that sat at the edge of the street that separated the distance of the buildings and the facility. The Bat-Family watches as the large humanoid wolf clapped her hands together and slowly brought them apart - bring a bow that looked as if it was forged from hellfire itself. The Runed Huntress took the bow in hand and did the motion of drawing back an arrow - Damian's eyes widen as an arrow materialized in her clawed hand before she releases it. It goes soar across the street and crashes into the glass dome but doesn't shatter it - it melts it away and forms a large hole, big enough for the rescue party to get inside.]

[The villains looked upon the hole of melted glass as the Bat-Family glided in and stood before the corrupted 7. The Ringleader - The Madman known as Joker - began to chuckle and clap his hands.]

Joker (Clapping): Bats! I knew you would be here! A little late to the party, don't you think?!

Bruce (Glares at Joker): I don't have time to deal with your demented mind, Joker. Release the hostages and turns yourselves in or we can do this the hard way.

Joker (Pouts and shakes his head): Oh, Batsy... Always the party pooper; no cake for you. But in case you have noticed, I outnumber you so...I don't think you can win.

[Just then - the monstrous roaring howl of the Runed Huntress echoed in the hall as she leaped through the giant hole and landed on all fours between Joker and Bruce. She glared at the villains as her jaws opened as lava leaked from the cracks of her fangs, making 2 pools on the tile floor that began to rise and form into 2 clones of herself.]

Runed Huntress (Rising to her feet as the lava clones did the same): Now...it's an even playing field.

[When Killer Croc let loose a hiss, Runed Huntress barked back at him and the two of them charged at each other - fighting as beasts knew how to. Bruce dealt with Joker, Barbara took on Harley Quinn, Dick took care of Riddler, Damian attacked Penguin, while the other two clones took on Clayface and Poison Ivy.]

[The fight ended with the villains in cuffs and loaded into Transportation Trucks, Barbara found the scientists locked in the safe - all accounted for and unharmed, but mentally scarred - Bruce was talking to Gordon while his family looked on. Damian looked off to the side and watched the large wolf walking away and ran after her as she turned into an alleyway.]

Damian: Hey, where are you going?

Runed Huntress (Looks over her large shoulder at the Wayne Family Heir): What do you want, boy? I have aided your leader, that doesn't mean I need to stay around for his talks with the Commissioner.

Damian: Just what the hell is your problem?

Runed Huntress: My 'problems' are none of your concern, Rich Boy.

[Damian opened his mouth to speak but the large beast was engulfed by a flammed vortex that erupted from the ground around her feet and covered her until it exploded into cinders - leaving Damian alone in the alley, looking at the charred circle in the ground.]

- RAVENS LIKE THINGS THAT SPARKLE -

[The Next Day: Gotham High School - Courtyard]

"I gotta go to the library to do some last-minute reading before class starts but before I forget, can I get some cash, Bae?" The Indigo-Eyed Girl asked as she looked upon the Wayne Heir.

"More? I gave you $700 just last week." Damien said as she looked at his girlfriend.

"I know but there's a sell on some rare spell tomes and I didn't want to risk someone else getting their hands on them. o, can you give me some cash?" Raven asked with a tilt of her head like a cat; making the heir exhale.

"Okay, I send another $800." Damien exhaled, earning a kiss on his cheek from the girl how had his heart before she turned and began to walk away.

"Hey, Damien!" Damien turned to see his friend Jonathan Kent walking up to him, but he wasn't alone.

Beside Jonathan was a dark-skinned female around the same height as him with golden eyes in a constant glare, She had short black hair in an undercut - only on her right side. She was wearing the Gotham High School uniform but the man one - she wasn't in comfortable skirts and she had the money to allow this. On her wrists there 2 golden bracelets - long ones that start at her wrists and end further up her forearms - that had some kind of writing on them that Damien didn't care to translate. Why didn't he care? Because he didn't like her.

"Hey." Damien said as he looked in the direction of his friend and...tolerant.

"You good, Bro? You seemed stressed out." Jonathan said with concern in his blue eyes.

"Yeah, I'm fine - Father was telling us that there is some large event tonight and he wants all of us there; no questions asked." Damien said.

"Large event? What's that?" Jonathan asked.

"He talking about Gotham's Angel Award - it's when all of Gotham's CEOs and Walking Wallets gather in one room to see who's been recognized as the most giving and kind." Kacela said as she looked at Jonathan with her arms folded.

"Funny the stray (That's what Damien calls her began she doesn't have parents, relatives, or even a surname.) knows what it is, even though you would never step foot in that place, much less get to hold an invitation." Damien said with a smirk on his face. Imagine his shock as Kacela pulls an invitation to that event from her pocket.

"You were saying, Bird Brain?" Kacela asked with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. Damien began to get mad and Kacela glared at him when Jonathan stepped between them.

"Whoa. Whoa. No need to fight! Just relax, guys." Jonathan said as he looked between her friends. Kacela exhaled and stepped back.

"Fine. I won't fight because Jonathan asked me to." Kacela said as she glared at Damien.

"Same here, Stray." Damien glared at her too before turning back to his phone.

"Whatcha doing, Damian?" Jonathan asked.

"Sending some cash to Raven's card." He said.

"More? Didn't you send her a lot just a few days ago?" Jonathan asked.

"Yes, but there was a book sale and she didn't want to miss out on the rare tomes that were for auction." Damian explained.

"Is that the song she sang to you? For someone so brilliant...you can't even see when you are being played." Kacela said as she placed her hands in her pockets and began to walk away.

"What's that supposed to mean, Stray?"Damian glared at her.

"Just remember - Ravens are fond of things that gleam and shine but they are also creatures that sing songs of deception." Kacela said before she entered the building, leaving Damian and Jonathan standing there.

- THE RAVEN'S DECEPTION & TRAPPED IN THE LION'S DEN -

[After Highschool]

Damian wished his friend a good evening before getting on his motorcycle and driving out of the school's parking lot. He knew that the normal route he would take was going to be caked in traffic for the event tonight and decided to head the long way. He was coming up on the red light at the intersection of 4 famous restaurants/cafes sat at the 4 Corners. He was the first vehicle in line when a familiar voice was heard from the right - he looked and the eyes under his helmet widened when they landed on his girlfriend sitting at an outdoor table with shapeshifter of the Titans - Beast Boy a.k.a Garfield. They were sitting at the table, holding hands and smiling at each other - as if they were in love.

"So, what do you want to do this weekend?" Raven asked.

"I wanna go to the new exotic animal show but tickets to that places are stupidly expensive." Garfield said.

"Don't worry, babe; I got the money from that walking piggy bank, Damian." Raven said.

"You got more? I thought he gave you some a few days ago." He said.

"Yeah, I just told him I spent the money on tomes and he gave me $700 more. All I have to do is pout and he'll give me whatever I want." Raven smirked at the notion and Garfield laughed.

Damian felt so bad about what he just heard - when the car behind him hooked their horn to let him know the light was green, he floored it and began driving down the main streets before the tears in his eyes began to blind him and he stopped on the edge of the park, took his helmet off and hid his face in hands - sobbing; showing the weakness of the Al Ghul.

His heart was broken - the one he loved was using him for a wallet for the shapeshifter and he was too blind to see it. The words Kacela said before she left that day - she was warning him that Raven was disloyal to him. The one he hated was the one who warned him.

He was so caught up in his crying that he didn't see the hooded figure sneaking up behind him and smacking him off the bike with a metal pipe in the back of his head. His world got dark when he heard the words.

"We got Wayne's Brat - we're in for a huge payday, boys." the fading voice chuckled until Damian faded into nothingness of mind.

[Around 2 Hours Later]

"Wake up, pretty boy!" someone commanded as he slapped the Wayne Heir wake - he was tied to a chair in the center of an unknown warehouse with 6 Thugs surrounding him - all of them with weapons in their hands.

"What? What the hell do you want from me?" Damian demanded as he glared at the man who slapped him - only for the same man to punch him in the face; Damian could taste the blood on his tongue before he felt it flowing out of his mouth as he tried to shake the daze from his head.

"We don't want shit from you, brat; we want a payday from Wayne and I know he'll pay huge racks to get his little boy back." The leader said.

"Boss, we've been calling Wayne but he ain't answering." A good said.

"Then keep calling! The sooner we finish this, the better." The boss order. Damian hung his head down - he was done for: his father wasn't answering the phone, his love breaks his heart...just what was he to do

The answer came as the window of the warehouse came crashing inward and a familiar Lycan-Shaped Figure came crashing into the room and landed on the ground on all fours before rising to its hind legs with a very pissed off glare in its eyes - the runes on its body shining in the light.

"What the hell is that?!" One of the Goons said as he tried to get his gun - only to have his head bitten off by the creature's jaws, letting his body hit the floor.

"Kill that thing! Fucking kill it!" The Boss said as he made Damian get to his feet and used his as a human by holding his arm around his neck and hold his gun at the creature that jumped around, slaughtering his men before turning to face him.

"Don't come any closer or I'll blow his brains out!" The boss said as he held the gun against Damian's head.

The Runed Huntress looked at a long metal nail that was sitting between her feet and reached down to gather it in her large clawed hand. Damian and the boss watched as the large wolfish creature twirled the nail between her fingers before flicking it on its head and sent it flying like a bullet - hitting the boss in the center of his head, making them lose his grip on Damian and slump to the ground. The Huntress ran over to Damian before he could fall and gathered him tenderly in her large arm before using the other one to cut his ropes - even free, the boy didn't move, he was too...cold.

"Damian, are you okay? Did they hurt you?" The Runed Huntress asked him as she looked at him with concerned eyes. Damian opened his mouth to speak but he noticed the bracelets on the creature's wrists - he saw them before, he saw them every day during school.

"K...Kacela?" Damian questioned as he looked into the creature's eyes again - there was a sparkle, a smile, then a small vortex of fire that revealed the human face of the one he hated at school.

"I always told you that you were brilliant, just weren't wary of the right people."Kacela said as she took off her jacket from her shoulders and placed it over Damian's, "Wear this, you're freezing." She said.

"You... You saved me? I thought you hated me - after everything I said and did to you." Damian said as he looked into her eyes.

"I never said I hated you, Damian; I said I hated the way you acted. As for saving you, I may have a beast's soul and form but I'm not a heartless monster to just let someone get hurt; not even someone who tries to me." Kacela explained before she turned back into the Runed Huntress, gathered Damian in her arms, and rose to her feet, "Now, let's get you home; you are too cold, you might be sick." she said as she turned on her heel and leaped back through the window she came through with the Wayne Family Heir in her arms.

- THE ONE YOU HATE IS THE ONE WHO CARES THE MOST -

[Wayne Manor]

The Runed Huntress landed in front of the door to Wayne Manor, using one of her hands to knock heavily on the door - it was soon opened by the Wayne Family Butler - Alfred Pennyworth.

"Hello, Madam Huntress, is there something I can help you with?" He then noticed Damian in her arms, "Is that Master Damian? Did something happen?" He asked.

"He was attacked and held for ransom but Bruce never answered the phone and he was harmed." Runed Huntress said.

"That's understandable - Master Bruce and the others are currently getting ready for the event and have asked not to be disturbed." Alfred said, making Kacela's eyes widen in anger.

"What?" She growled out. She pushed past the butler and followed Bruce's scent up the stairs to a meeting room - she barged in and - sure enough to what Alfred said - Bruce, Dick, and Barbara were all there, dressed in elegant attire; they all looked at the large wolf who barged into the room.

"Huntress? Is there something you need?" Bruce said.

"Are you serious, Bruce? Your son is in my arms, beaten & possibly sick, are you're asking me if I need something? Why didn't you answer the calls from Damian's phone?" Kacela asked.

"As Alfred told you, we're busy getting ready for the event." Bruce said.

"He's your son, Bruce Wanye - he was attacked, held for ransom, and beaten up and all you care about is this event? He could be sick, he's as cold as a block of ice." Huntress growled.

"Well, you got to him and saved him before he was hurt too bad, but since he can't come to the event, take him to bed and we will deal with him in the morning." Bruce said as he began walking do the door, past the wolf and his sick son, with his other 2. Kacela growled at him before looking at Damian.

"Where's your room?" She asked, her eyes widened when his hand grabbed her fur and held her close.

"Please... Please, don't leave me here." Damian pleaded - begged - as he tried to hold more tears while shivering.

"There's no way in hell I'm leaving you here. I need to get you some warm clothes." She explained.

Damian told her where his room was and she when there - placing him on the bed for a moment as she gathered pajamas and a new school uniform into the bag before closing it, picking Damian back up, opened the window, and the two of them disappeared into the night.

[Kacela's Loft]

*BEEP - BEEP - BEEP*

"Yeah, just as I thought - you're sick." Kacela said as she pulled the thermometer from the boy's lips and looked at the numbers. Kacela placed it on a napkin on the nightstand that was beside the bed Damian was laying in and the chair she was sitting in. "It seems to be a simple head cold - some medicine and rest should get you and running again, not to mention a good night's rest." Kacela explained.

"How come...you didn't go to the Gotham's Angels Award?" Damian asked as he looked at her with a warm feeling on his face - it must have been the cold.

"That place is full of people who just wanna get seen, not for doing right." Kacela explained before she reached on the nightstand to her phone, "You have to eat something before taking your meds and I don't feel like cooking tonight, so I'll order something. What are you in the mood for - Pizza or Burgers?" Kacela asked.

"What? You're letting me choose?" Damian asked.

"Sure, I don't usually have guests, so why the hell not?" Kacela gave a smile...and the warm feeling returned but it was stronger this time.

When the pizza arrived, Kacela helped Damian sit up, and the two of them ate while having conversations - turned out they had a lot of things in common, from their love of books to their outside activities. Damian asked Kacela a few questions about her knowing Raven was cheating on him and why she didn't tell him directly - she explained that it wasn't her place to speak on another person's relationship, plus he made it very clear that he had a dislike for her so what reason would he have to believe her? Damian apologized for his words but Kacela said she heard worse and wasn't bothered. Just before bedtime, Kacela gave him cold and sleeping medicine so he would be alright in the morning; she stayed with him until he fell into slumber before she went to sleep herself.

When the morning sun rose - Damian woke to the smell of pancakes. Kacela made them breakfast and even made sure Damian's phone was placed on the changer. Damian got dressed in a fresh outfit and went to eat with Kacela; who informed him that she got his bike and helmet from the park after he went to sleep; he thanked her, finished his breakfast, and left out the door...with her jacket.

- NOT SO BLIND ANYMORE -

"What do you mean we're over?!" Raven yelled as she stood before Damian.

"Just as I said - I'm done with you, Raven. You're nothing but a gold-digger and a liar, and you only see me as a mess to keep that green boyfriend of yours happy. I'm not giving you anything else but a hard time if you ever show your face again." Damian glared at her, causing her to huff and march away to the school building.

"Whoa, Damian." Jonathan said as he walked over, "You really broke up with her?" He asked.

"I don't have time for gold-diggers and liars." He looked around, "Where's Kacela?" he asked.

"She called and said... Wait, did you just call her by her name? I thought she was a stray?" He said but swallowed when Damian glared at her.

"Never. Call. Her. That." Damian growled.

"Okay. Okay, man - sorry." He said.

"Now, what did she tell you?" Damian asked.

"She said she couldn't come today - there are some major investors that are interested in her company and want to make a partnership, so she won't be in today." Jonathan said.

"Really? Then, I'll speak to her later." Damian said.

"Talk about what? Wait, isn't that her jacket?" He asked.

"Yes." He said, 'But it's more than just that. It's the start of what Kacela and I shall be...together.'

[apolloloki97]

“Back On Solid Ground” Ian Gallagher x Mickey Milkovich

Summary: After Mickey is released early from prison, he is in no rush to go back into the arms of Ian Gallagher. After unsuccessfully trying to win Mickey back, the rest of the Gallagher siblings and a couple of friends try to help out their favourite Southside couple.

Or when Ian's friends and siblings try to get Mickey to talk to Ian after Mickey gets out.

Word Count: 7302

Warning: Swearing, Mentions of Mental Illness

Song I Wrote To: “I Found" by Amber Run

Note: Now, I am not a lawyer and I usually do research for fics, but just go with me on the legal proceedings for this. I love this story a lot and I always wanted more of Mickey's emotions after he was released. I needed this after the show finale as well.

----------

The last thing Mickey wanted to do was drink alone and so he called his favourite cousin.

Sandy was finally back in town after leaving once she got out of juvie for the last time. Iggy had told Mickey that Sandy was trying to go straight, but the younger Milkovich brother knew that the only straight thing about his cousin was her hair.

Regardless, once he was out of prison, she was his first call. Turns out that when the woman who presses charges on you for attempted murder goes insane and is deemed a pathological liar, the justice system becomes much more lenient. Mickey still remembered the moment the warden told him that he was getting out. He thought it had been some kind of sick joke from Terry or one of the other delinquent Milkoviches. Yet, everything was soon in order and Mickey was released with a few strokes of a pen.

That was a week ago and after crashing on Sandy’s couch and wallowing in his own sorrow over losing the man he loved, he finally ventured out into the world to interact with people. Well, only if you consider the lowlifes at the Alibi Room, people.

Mickey sat across from Sandy as she drank her second beer, very happy to be out with him rather than cooped up watching reruns of some horrible sitcom. Sandy was his favourite Milkovich next to Mandy, but Mickey hadn’t seen his sister in some time and he wasn’t even sure where she was. He got a text or a voicemail every couple of months just to let him know she was still alive, but that was it. He missed Mandy, but he knew she needed to get out of the Southside and he was happy for her.

Mickey glanced around the room, the afternoon sun filtering through the windows as it illuminated the day-drinkers. Mickey was itching to do something other than sitting at a dive bar and trying to dodge questions that he knew Kev and V both had. However, he was happy to be with Sandy who grinned at him from across the table.

“What?” Mickey asked, taking a sip from his beer. “You keep staring.”

“I’m just happy you called,” Sandy said with a shrug. Mickey watched her for a second before snorting.

“Who else would I call?”

“I don’t know. Colin?” Sandy paused for a second before looking at him over the rim of her glass. “Ian?”

“Don’t,” Mickey warned, not willing to talk about Ian, especially not to someone who didn’t even know him. Mickey had been hurt when Ian broke up with him on the stoop of the Gallagher house. Mickey had done everything for Ian. He had come out for him, tried to take care of him when he was at his lowest with his bipolar, and even protected him when the handsy old men would try things when Ian was drugged out of his mind on whatever anyone was willing to give him.

“Have you seen him yet?” Sandy asked.

“Nope,” Mickey said with a dismissive look as he sipped on his beer again.

“Mickey…” Sandy tried again.

“Why should I, huh? Bitch never visited me, did he?” Mickey said. It still hurt that as soon as Svetlana stopped asking him to do jobs for the Russian mob, Ian had essentially blocked him out of his life. Ian hadn't even taken calls from Mickey while he was locked up. He knew that Ian had left him, but he never expected the redhead to completely lock him out of his life, not when Mickey needed him the most.

“I thought you loved him,” Sandy said, folding her arms in front of her on the table.

“Didn’t mean much to him, did it?” Mickey said bitterly.

“He was sick, Mickey,” Sandy said, trying to rationalize.

“You don’t think I don’t know that?” he asked. “I was the one that was there for him. I took care of him and he just threw me away while his bitch of a sister…” Mickey trailed off, not wanting to lose his temper. He had been trying to work on that for a while and now was not the time to come undone. Mickey needed to keep calm for his own sake and Sandy's.

“Have you told anyone you’re back?” Sandy asked. “You know, besides Kev and V?”

“No,” Mickey said as he finished off the glass of beer before him.

“So, we’re here because…” Sandy said, gesturing around the bar that was a Southside staple.

“It’s early,” Mickey said. “Gallaghers don’t get day drunk. Well, Frank does, but fuck Frank.”

“Maybe you should tell someone,” Sandy said, trying to be comforting and supportive. This was one of the many reasons why Sandy and Mandy got along so well. They were always getting into other people’s business and especially Mickey’s. If he was being honest with himself, and he always was, he figured that they were the same person at times.

It was terrifying.

Still, she had a point. Some of the time.

“Who would I tell, hmm?” Mickey asked, leaning forward on the table in front of him. Sandy’s eyes flickered from him to the door over Mickey’s shoulder, trying to predict the reaction that she knew was about to happen. However, she didn’t back down. Mickey had been avoiding it all for too long.

“Start with him,” Sandy said, gesturing over Mickey’s shoulder. Confused, Mickey turned around in the booth to see Ian. The third eldest Gallagher sibling had entered the bar with his older brother Lip and Lip’s boss, Brad. Lip and Brad were more focused on the game on the TV above the bar than Ian was. Ian was staring right at Mickey with a surprised expression.

Their eyes were locked together and Mickey felt as if he couldn’t breathe. As soon as Ian took a step forward, Mickey turned back around and shut his eyes tightly. “No, no, no,” Mickey said under his breath, trying to calm his heart rate.

“Mickey, stay calm,” Sandy tried, reaching for her cousin’s hand. Mickey pulled away as if he had been burned. Shaking out his hand, he got to his feet.

“Please don’t,” Mickey breathed out as Sandy watched him clamor out of the booth. From his pocket, Mickey slammed some bills onto the table.

“Mickey…” Sandy said, her tone almost desperate. Mickey ignored her pleas, pressed a kiss to the top of her head, and then headed through the back of the bar, ignoring the ginger-haired Gallagher that waited behind him. Just as he shrugged into the back room, he ran into Veronica. V stared after him in confusion, watching as her friend disappeared up the stairs that led to the old apartment above the bar.

V then turned to Sandy with a question on her lips. Sandy simply nodded towards Ian who was in the same spot as he had been when Mickey had noticed him. V sighed, understanding immediately. She didn’t know every detail about how the relationship had ended, but she knew enough. Most importantly, she knew how much Mickey loved Ian and how much Ian had hurt the man who had done everything to make sure he was okay.

Veronica turned her attention back to the bar, going to restock the Jameson and whatnot. Sandy added her own bills to the pile that Mickey had left before grabbing her bag and hoisting it over her shoulder. Sliding out of the booth, she approached the front door, trying to avoid the Gallagher brothers when Kevin appeared, stepping into the bar with a large black duffle in his arms. Sandy stopped as he went up to her, stopping just shy of Ian.

“This is all I could get before I heard Terry’s asshole cronies coming back up the street,” Kev said, gesturing to the bag. “Iggy had to hurry me out before anything got too ugly.”

“Thanks, man,” Sandy said, relaxing a bit more knowing that Mickey would have some things of his own for a while before he found something more stable.

“I’ll bring this upstairs for him,” Kev said as he moved past Sandy and headed for the back staircase that led to the apartment. Sandy watched after him for a moment before heading back to the front door. However, Ian moved first. He stepped in front of Sandy, set on intercepting her escape.

“Sandy, right?” Ian asked, recognizing her from the many photos Mandy had shown him years before.

“Yeah,” Sandy said simply.

“I’m–”

“I know,” she said, cutting him off. It wasn’t hostile or anything, but Sandy didn’t think she should be talking to him right now. Mickey should have been the one to build back the bridge between the Milkovich and Gallagher family, not her.

“I didn’t know he was out,” Ian said, his eyes on the door that Mickey had escaped through.

“Yeah, well, that’s what happens when the charges are dropped,” Sandy said. However, she elaborated after a flash of confusion overtook Ian’s face. “Your half-sister had some sort of meltdown in lock up,” Sandy said. “I’m not exactly sure what happened, but it was enough for her to be deemed mentally unstable. The judge figured if she was lying about most things, then she was lying about Mickey trying to kill her,” Sandy said with a shrug. “I picked him up about a week ago.”

“Shit,” Ian said, not surprised that Sammi was unstable, but that the judge had actually approved Mickey’s release.

“Yeah,” she said, just as amused and surprised.

“So, he’s staying here?” Ian asked.

“He can’t go home,” Sandy said with a sigh. “Terry has been on a warpath since Mickey came out. He never got over it and I guess he figured Mickey being in prison was punishment enough. He didn’t like when I came out either so I’m not surprised. Kev and V are letting him stay upstairs until he finds a better place.” Sandy hiked her bag higher up on her shoulder as she shifted on her feet. “Look, I gotta go, but try to talk to him, will ya?”

“It didn’t look like he wanted to talk to me,” Ian said with a frown.

“He’s hurt, Ian,” she said, “but he’s still in love with you. Mickey thought he’d be in there for almost a decade and regardless of who his family is, that isn’t easy. He doesn’t know what to do right now. Please, just give him something to hold onto.”

Ian frowned at that, trying to wrap his head around the fact that Mickey was feeling lost. It wasn’t something he was used to witnessing. Mickey was a rock, his rock and he never thought that something like a quick stint in prison would get to him. Then again, as Sandy said, he had thought he would be locked up for a good chunk of his life and Ian knew how Mickey felt about being isolated.

Mickey needed to be free in every sense of the word and Ian would always try to make that happen for the man who had always loved him unconditionally. However, that meant working through their differences and of course, Ian making up for everything he had said when he was off his medication.

“I’ll try,” he promised Sandy. Satisfied with the answer, Sandy moved past him and shoved out into the warm Southside air, leaving the Alibi behind her.

Lip, who was sipping on a Coke at Ian’s side, moved closer to his younger brother. “Are you going to talk to him?” Lip asked.

Ian sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m going to try,” Ian decided, letting his eyes drift up towards where Mickey was staying, needing to see him.

--------

IAN

Ian waited until the next day before going to speak to Mickey.

He had been up all night trying to figure out what he was going to say. There was a part of him that was angry that Mickey hadn’t called him the second he got out, but he also knew that he had broken up with him and that he didn’t have the right to ask about him anymore. Yet, Ian still loved Mickey with everything he had. He just hoped that Mickey’s feelings hadn’t changed in the short time that he had been locked up.

Even after the few relationships he had been in since Mickey got arrested, none of them would ever compare to Mickey. It didn’t matter who Ian was with or where he was, Mickey was always going to be it. Which is why Ian found himself outside the small apartment above the Alibi just as morning turned to noon. The sound of the old pipes in the cracked walls was only making the rising anxiety in Ian’s chest worse. His hands clenched and flexed at his sides as he forced himself to raise his fist and knock twice on the wooden door.

It was quiet on the other side and Ian was worried that he may have missed him after all. Ian knocked again and then finally heard the sound of footsteps inside the apartment. “Dammit, Kev!” Mickey yelled as he approached the door. “I told you I wasn’t going to bartend for your shitty customers. For fuck’s sa–” Mickey’s sentence cut off as he tore open the door and realized it wasn’t Kev standing in the hallway at all. “Ian,” he said as he stared at the taller man in front of him.

Ian was looking back and he had to take a minute to take Mickey in. He was just as beautiful as the last time Ian had seen him, but he looked stronger. Clearly, Mickey had been taking advantage of the gym in the prison yard. His arms were more defined underneath the long sleeve t-shirt he wore and Ian could even tell that his back and shoulders had more muscle on them than before. Ian couldn’t help but look at Mickey’s chest, knowing the mangled tattoo of his name was just below the thin fabric.

“Hey, Mick,” Ian said, finally finding his voice. He offered Mickey a small smile, but the latter just stared back, breaking out his shock and slipping into a mood that told Ian that something was very wrong.

“The fuck do you want?” Mickey asked. Ian stammered for a second. He knew that Mickey was upset, but they usually always started off as pissed at each other before the reunion turned into a flurry of removing clothes and hands gripping at hair. However, he was realizing that wasn’t how this one was going to go at all.

“You’re out,” Ian observed and Mickey just raised one of his eyebrows at him.

“No shit,” Mickey bit back.

“I just, uh, I wanted to say…” Ian tried, still not sure where he was going with any of it. He had been prepared to speak to Mickey, but he had figured Milkovich was going to be a bit more willing to hear him out. The Mickey before him looked as if he’d rather be throwing his head against a wall than standing in that doorway.

“What?” Mickey asked.

“I don’t know how to put this…” Ian said, the anxious feeling returning to his hands.

“Spit it out, Gallagher,” Mickey said, “I got shit to do. Prison took up a lot of my time.”

“Right,” Ian said. “Well, uh, maybe…”

“Yes?” Mickey urged, shifting on his feet. Ian was looking at him and then he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t say any of the things he had wanted to because Mickey had never looked at him like this. Ian was used to the glares, the smiles, the annoyed little glances whenever Ian would make some dumb joke that Mickey pretended to not find funny. However, now, it was as if Mickey was looking at him, but he had no idea who he was. Ian switched gears quickly.

“Fiona’s gone,” Ian blurted out causing Mickey to narrow his eyes.

“What?”

“Yeah, guess she finally got out of the Southside,” Ian went on. “Looks like she’s one of the lucky few,” Ian said with an attempt at a laugh, but Mickey was not amused. In fact, he seemed even angrier.

“Seriously?” Mickey said with a roll of his eyes. “Damn Gallagher, well I am so glad your life is so fucking interesting,” he said before he slammed the door in Ian’s face. Ian stood there for a second, stunned before he took a few steps back and pushed his hands into his hair.

“Fuck.”

-------

LIP

The next time a Gallagher brother knocked on Mickey’s door, it was not the one that Mickey had been expecting.

“Oh, what the fuck do you want?” Mickey said as he beheld Lip Gallagher at his threshold. Lip was standing there, an unlit cigarette behind his ear which only made Mickey want to punch him even more. He never liked Lip and he had liked him even less after Lip had constantly expressed his dislike of Ian and Mickey’s relationship.

“Ian’s been trying to call you,” Lip said with a pointed look. Mickey knew that and he had been purposely ignoring every call and text for a reason.

“And?” Mickey asked.

“You’re really going to be a dick about this?” Lip challenged.

“About what, Philip?” Mickey asked, using his full name just to annoy him further. “About how I got locked up after trying to stop your crazy bitch of sister with the help of your other crazy bitch of a sister? Who, by the way, never got picked up for helping me shove Sammi in that box. You’re welcome for that considering I could have rolled on her at any moment but I fucking didn’t.”

“You want me to thank you for not ratting out Debbie?” Lip asked, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets.

“Nah, I don’t want shit from you,” Mickey said. “Your brother dumped me before I got my ass shackled so he and I are nothing and you and I don’t owe each other shit.”

“I never liked you,” Lip said, already hating that he had agreed to go and speak to Mickey after Ian had begged him for two days. The only reason he was even standing in that hallway was because of Ian, but even Lip had his limits when it came to Mickey Milkovich.

“Wow, thanks,” Mickey deadpanned.

“But my brother loves you,” Lip went on. “And you make him happy so I need you to call him because whether or not you see it, you’re probably the only person for him and I think I've known that for a while."

“Right,” Mickey scoffed, “so you never said that Ian could always find someone better?” Mickey challenged.

“He told you about that?” Lip asked, surprised, remembering back to that conversation he had with his brother.

“He did,” said Mickey.

“I didn’t get it back then,” Lip said.

“You clearly don’t get it now.”

“He cares about you for some fucking reason, Mickey,” Lip said, trying again for the man in front of him to see some reason.

“Then maybe he should fucking figure it out,” Mickey shot back. “Now, don’t you have some think tank to go smoke some fancy weed in or some shit? Get the fuck out of here.” Mickey slammed the door in Lip’s face just as he had with Ian.

“Dammit,” Lip muttered as he pulled the cigarette from behind his ear and lit it. Placing it between his teeth, he pulled out his phone and sent a quick text to Ian letting him know he had hit and missed with Mickey. He didn’t wait for a reply as he headed back downstairs and out into the cool air of Chicago in search of a meeting for the afternoon.

-----------

DEBBIE

Debbie found Mickey a day later playing pool in the Alibi.

He was just finishing up hustling some drunk hipster when Debbie approached him with Franny at her side. Mickey looked up as the two walked up to him. “Jesus,” he said with a look at Franny, “what are you feedin’ that kid?” he asked.

“Kids grow, Mickey. That’s how it works,” Debbie said with a roll of her eyes.

“Whatever,” Mickey said, turning back to the game. Debbie remained where she was, giving him a pointed look as she kept hold of her daughter. “Can I help you?” Mickey asked, turning back towards her, already tired of the Gallagher bullshit. He already had to stop Frank from breaking into the apartment in the early hours of the morning. He didn’t need Fiona Jr. bothering him right now.

“Why won’t you take Ian’s calls?” she asked.

“Jesus Christ,” Mickey swore, running a hand over his face.

“He needs to talk to you,” Debbie said.

“I’m sure he’ll live,” Mickey said, grabbing his beer from the bar behind him and taking a deep drink.

“I don’t know about that,” she said. “He’s pretty upset.” That made Mickey pause. He set his beer down.

“He taking his meds?” he asked her.

“Do you care?” Debbie challenged which was the wrong thing to do. Mickey glared at her.

“Don’t pull that shit with me,” he warned her. “Answer the fucking question.”

“Yes, he’s on his meds, but he’s still upset you’re ignoring him,” she said.

“Well, he ignored me so now he knows what it feels like to go AWOL,” Mickey said.

“Call him,” Debbie urged.

“No.”

“Mickey.”

“Debbie.” Mickey crossed his arms, staring her down. Franny was silent as she stood next to her mother, confused as to why they were talking to the man in front of her. Debbie glared at him for another moment before scoffing.

“I don’t know what he sees in you,” she shot at him before tugging her daughter away. Mickey watched them leave and Debbie’s words remained in the air around him.

“I don’t know either…” Mickey said quietly to himself before returning his attention to the game and his own thoughts.

---------

CARL

Mickey was out in the alley behind the Alibi when Carl Gallagher showed up dressed in a police cadet uniform.

“You’re a fucking cop now?” Mickey asked as he looked up, taking the cigarette he was smoking from his mouth.

“Almost,” Carl said, stopping in front of Mickey. The last time Mickey had even thought about Carl, the kid was going to some fancy military school or something. If he really thought about it, Mickey never really knew what Carl was up to half the time. There was a time that Mickey thought the kid was going to end up in the joint with him rather than trying to get a badge and service glock.

“Weren’t you supposed to grow up to be a serial killer or some shit?” Mickey asked.

“Things change,” Carl said with a shrug. Mickey nodded at that, returning his attention to his smoke. “You talk to Ian?”

“Nope,” Mickey said.

“Are you going to?” Carl asked.

“Nope,” Mickey repeated. Carl nodded, weighing his options before settling on a new tactic.

“If I handcuffed you and dragged you to the house, would you do it then?” Carl asked nonchalantly.

“You try to put those fucking bracelets on me and I’ll break every bone in your hand,” Mickey said without missing a beat. Carl didn’t retort, he just smiled. Mickey never liked when the Gallaghers smiled, it always meant they were up to something or drunk or both. “What?”

“Nothing,” Carl said with a shrug. “I just missed that Milkovich snark.”

“Whatever,” Mickey said dismissively. Suddenly, Carl’s phone chimed, drawing his attention. Seeing who it was, Carl pocketed it again before turning back to Mickey.

“I gotta go,” he said and Mickey just nodded. “Hey, stop being an asshole and call my brother before he runs out of love ballads to annoy us with.” Carl then left Mickey standing there, more confused than ever.

“Love ballads,” Mickey repeated. “What the fuck?”

-------

KEV AND V

The next ambush came when Mickey was sitting at the bar in the Alibi looking over the books for the Southside establishment.

V set a drink in front of him as she wiped off the bar. “Thanks again, Mickey,” V said. “Since Lana left, we’ve needed someone who’s good with numbers.”

“Not a problem,” Mickey said. “Least I can do considering I’m staying here rent-free, right?” Mickey continued to tap away at the calculator, but soon realized he was being stared at. Glancing up, he saw that Kev and V were both looking at him with innocent expressions on their faces. “What?” Mickey asked, already regretting doing so.

“Ian called us,” V said with a grimace as she set down the rag in her hands.

“Of course he did,” Mickey sighed. “Alright, lay it on me. At this point, I’m waiting for fucking Frank or Kermit to show up at my door at the ginger’s request.”

“What about me?” Kermit said, turning away from Tommy.

“Fuck you, Kermit,” Mickey said as he flipped him off. Kermit just frowned and turned back to his friend. Mickey looked back at the Balls and waited.

“I’m not gonna tell you what to do,” Veronica began.

“Good,” said Mickey, picking up his pen again.

“But,” she went on, “he has been going through a lot.”

“Right, like the two boyfriends and the fancy EMT job?” Mickey scoffed. “Yeah real tough.” V frowned.

“You know that he puts on a façade. Always has,” V reminded him.

“Yeah man,” Kev interjected. “Ian may be smiling with those pearly whites of his, but his heart is actually blue beneath that ugly uniform he wears.”

“That was beautiful,” Tommy added as he eavesdropped. Kev nodded to him in thanks.

“Thank you,” he said with gratitude.

“Kevin,” V said, her tone full of warning. Kev then ducked away, leaving his wife alone with his former business partner. V leaned in then, resting her forearms on the bar. “Maybe just hear him out,” she tried.

“I tried that,” Mickey admitted, grateful to have someone to talk to that wasn’t a Gallagher. “He doesn’t seem to know what the fuck he wants.”

“Do you?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Mickey said softly. Veronica gave him a soft smile as she laid her hand on his arm, giving it a firm squeeze.

“Maybe you should figure that out first.”

---------

LIAM

Mickey was tired and all he wanted was a hot shower and then maybe some free beer from downstairs.

However, like always, he never got what he wanted. Opening the door to the apartment, he nearly jumped out of his skin at the sight of the youngest Gallagher sibling sitting on the couch in the small living room.

“Jesus,” Mickey swore, trying to catch his breath. “How the fuck you get in here?” Mickey asked as he shut the door behind him and took off his coat.

“Veronica let me in,” Liam said patiently.

“Why?” Mickey asked though he could guess why Liam was there. After the rest of his siblings had shown up, it wasn’t a long shot to figure out he would be next.

“I think we should talk,” Liam said, gesturing for Mickey to sit in the chair across from the couch. Mickey, amused, decided to humor the kid and took the seat Liam was offering even though it was Mickey’s house the kid was invading.

“I can’t remember us ever doing that but go on,” Mickey said as he settled in the frayed cushions. Liam was quiet for a moment before he finally nodded and folded his hands in front of him like a grown man in a kid’s body. Mickey still had no idea how he was related to Frank.

“I remember when Ian was going through the worst of his bipolar,” Liam began. “You looked out for me.” Mickey was surprised to know that Liam actually remembered all the things Mickey had done for him when Fiona was too stressed over Ian to look after her baby brother. Mickey would take Liam to the clinic for checkups, always carried him into the house when the boy was too tired to walk, and even made sure he always had something to eat whenever Lip or Fiona forgot to go grocery shopping. He had a soft spot for the smallest Gallagher sibling and he was never too proud to admit it.

“So?” Mickey asked.

“So,” Liam continued, “I’m going to do the same for you.” Liam seemed proud of himself for being the one to actually want to talk to Mickey rather than at him and the latter appreciated that. Mickey paused, eyeing Liam for a second before furrowing his brow.

“Are you sure you’re Frank’s son?” he asked

“Seem to be,” Liam said with a shrug.

“That’s unfortunate,” Mickey said, leaning his forearms on his knees as he leaned forward a bit.

“It’s not so bad,” Liam said. “I got great brothers and sisters out of it.”

“Right,” said Mickey.

“Ian told me about the time you were shot by his old boss,” Liam said suddenly.

“Kash and Grab?” Mickey asked and Liam nodded. Mickey hadn’t thought about that man in years because if he did, all he felt was rage. Lip and Mickey both knew what Kash had been doing to Ian, essentially grooming him, and they both hated it. If anything, it was the one thing that they agreed on.

“Yeah,” Liam nodded. “He was really worried about you.”

“I think he was just worried about getting fired by his viagroid boyfriend’s pissed-off wife,” Mickey rationalized, but Liam disagreed.

“I don’t think so. Other people he’s dated have been hurt or upset and Ian’s never reacted like that with them,” said Liam.

“How are you so observant?” Mickey asked, trying to gauge where Liam’s head was at.

“It’s a big house,” Liam said with another shrug. “People tend to forget that I’m around most of the time.”

“That’s rough,” Mickey said.

“Rough like being ignored by the person you love?” Liam asked and Mickey’s brows ascended towards his hair.

“I needed time,” he said, unsure of why he was having this conversation with a ten-year-old.

“Did you tell him that?” Liam asked.

“I was pretty clear, kid,” Mickey said, leaning back into the chair and propping his leg up on top of the other.

“That might work for other people, but Ian needs a bit more,” Liam explained. “He’s smart, but he doesn’t always pick up on things like the rest of us.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Mickey said, knowing very well how unobservant Ian could be at times.

“I always knew Ian was gay, you know?” Liam continued on.

“Yeah?” Mickey asked.

“Yeah, I mean by the time I was old enough to realize what was going on, he was already out and telling people. Then when you were together, I just figured it was normal for you to be around, and then… then you weren’t,” Liam said with a small frown.

“I was in prison,” Mickey reminded him.

“No, before that,” Liam said. “You would come and go and then just show back up and Ian would be happy again and I liked that for however long it lasted. I know he feels bad for what happened with Sammi. I know he blames himself.”

“It wasn’t his fault,” Mickey said and he meant it. Ian hadn’t asked Mickey to drug Sammi or lock her up in the crate, he had purely done it to protect Ian.

“To him, it was,” Liam divulged. “You brought back his happiness and then you got taken away because Sammi called the police on Ian for something he did. He got better when he got the new job but there was still something missing.”

“Which was what?” Mickey asked as he tugged on his fingers, trying to ignore the hammering in his chest.

“You, Mickey,” Liam said. “You were missing.” Mickey was silent then, letting Liam’s words crash over him like rolling waves. He had always figured that whenever he was in Ian’s life, it was doing more harm than good. Ian made Mickey’s life better, brighter, but Mickey had never realized what his presence had done for Ian’s. Liam, however, had a pretty good idea of what it looked like.

“How are you so damn wise?” Mickey asked him after another moment of silence.

“Must be a Gallagher thing,” Liam said with yet another shrug. Mickey was starting to think that was his go-to thing when he spoke his mind.

“Gallaghers are wise?” Mickey asked, not buying it.

“When we want to be,” Liam said as he got to his feet. He looked down at Mickey and gave him a tight-lipped smile. “I missed you when you went away,” he admitted. “You were one of the only people who took the time to talk to me and I know that Ian missed you too.” Mickey couldn’t help but feel a bit of pride at that.

“So, you’re saying that I should call him?” Mickey asked.

“No,” Liam said with a shake of his head. “You should go see him. After living with my siblings my whole life and seeing all their failed relationships, I’ve realized that these things are better-said face to face.” Liam then approached Mickey and patted him on the shoulder. “Ian has a late shift tonight so he’ll be home all day tomorrow. I’ll try to make sure nobody else needs to be home so you guys can talk.”

Mickey just stared after Liam as he made his way to the door. Just before he turned the handle, Mickey stopped him. “Liam,” he said, gaining the kid’s attention.

“Yeah?” Liam asked with another patient look on his face.

“I never forget you’re there,” Mickey admitted, letting out a breath. Liam simply smiled at him before leaving the apartment and leaving Mickey to his thoughts.

Sitting back in the chair, Mickey ran his hands over his face. “Ian Gallagher, you sneaky son of a bitch.”

---------

The next day, Ian was finally up after sleeping for most of the morning.

The quiet of the house was a nice change of pace, but that meant he was alone with his thoughts and that was not a comforting thought. Just as he was about to find coffee, there was a knock at the door. Hoping it wasn’t Frank, Ian sauntered over and pulled it open.

“That was low, calling in the little brother,” Mickey said in greeting as he beheld a surprised Ian. “That kid is convincing as fuck.” Ian took a step to the side as Mickey pushed past him and into the Gallagher house. He looked around and was thankful that Liam had come through and nobody else was home.

“I had to try something,” Ian said as he shut the door and followed Mickey into the living room. Mickey turned to look at him, trying to figure out how to start. Ian beat him to it though. “I’m so sorry, Mick,” Ian began. “I just left you alone and I never thought about what that would mean besides just breaking up with you.”

“You can’t…” Mickey paused, trying to keep his emotions in check. “You can’t just play with my feelings like that. You can’t just choose when you want to be in love with me or whether I’m worth it or not,” he said, finally getting the words out that he had been mulling over since he saw Ian walk into the Alibi with Lip and Brad.

“I know,” Ian said.

“Do you?” Mickey asked. “Cause I get it. I was an asshole to you when we were just starting out and fuck, I know I fucked up and did some horrible shit.”

“Which I forgave you for,” Ian reminded him. Mickey knew what he was referring to. All the comments about him not caring about Ian, the “warm mouth” moment in the store, and especially when Mickey had beaten Ian up after Terry’s attempt at forced conversion therapy.

“And we worked through it,” Mickey went on. “I came out, I told you that I loved you, and then…”

“And then I got sick,” Ian finished, but Mickey was shaking his head.

“It wasn’t just that," Mickey said. “I felt like because I was trying, you didn’t want me anymore. It was like you preferred it when I was an asshole to you and only using you for sex.”

“I didn’t,” Ian said, taking a step forward. Mickey took one back.

“I don’t believe you,” Mickey said, his voice cracking slightly as his emotions began to win.

“I remember the exact moment I found out about you marrying Svetlana,” Ian began, shifting gears. “Mandy had casually mentioned it at school one day. She didn’t know about us and I had tried not to react, but it broke me to hear that you were marrying the woman who did...that to you. It made me sick. All I wanted to do was run away and take you with me.”

“That’s not how life works,” Mickey said.

“I know, but I still wanted to try,” said Ian. “I tried everything I could to keep you out of my head the second you had me pinned in your room that day but I couldn’t do it. I tried to be with other men, brush you off when it was too hard to keep my hands off you, but you always roped me back in. The day at Ned’s when you kissed me for the first time… Man, I felt like I was on fire. Then after what happened with your dad, I knew that I wouldn’t be able to stay away, but I also knew you were going to shut me out.”

“I had my reasons,” Mickey said, trying to get Ian to understand why he had shut him out.

“I know,” said Ian. “You were doing it to protect me from Terry.” Mickey nodded. “Still, it didn’t stop me from falling in love with you. You never gave up on me even when you wanted nothing to do with me. The night you found me passed outside the Fairytale, on the way home you told me that you’d always be there to pick my ass off the street and you always kept that promise.”

“You remember that?” Mickey asked, surprised Ian could remember anything about his club days. Mickey had said a lot of things in the Uber on the way home, but he didn’t think Ian was even conscious half the time.

“I remember everything you’ve said to me,” Ian said, taking another step and was glad to see that Mickey didn’t retreat this time. “I should have been there when you were locked up.” Mickey nodded, running a hand through his hair.

“I didn’t expect you to fucking live behind that glass wall, but I needed… I needed you and I needed to know if you were okay, Ian,” Mickey admitted, looking at the man in front of him with a near pleading expression. “I had nightmares that you were in a ditch somewhere, out of your mind, while full bottles of pills were still in your room.” Ian grimaced, hating how Mickey had worried about him.

“I didn’t want you to worry, Mick,” he said.

“Tough shit,” Mickey shot back. “That’s what you do when you’re in love.” Ian was startled by that.

“You still love me?” he asked.

“What the fuck do you think?” Mickey asked, incredulously.

“You seemed so angry,” Ian said, reminding him of their last conversation.

“I was,” Mickey said, “and I needed a minute to breathe. Contrary to popular belief, I do care about being in prison and I don’t want to get familiar with those fucking concrete walls. I’d rather not be another frequent flyer Milkovich,” Mickey admitted. “You always say that you need to get your shit together, well it was my turn, Ian.”

“I get that,” Ian said.

“My life ain’t gonna be a carbon copy of Terry’s. I’m gonna be better, I have to be the better man,” Mickey said, unable to stop himself now that he was letting it all out.

“You already are,” Ian said, walking right up to him.

“I can’t go back,” Mickey said, looking up into Ian’s bright and attentive green eyes. “I have to think straight and when I’m with you or not with you… I ain’t gonna survive if you suddenly decide I’m not worth it again.” Ian reached up and took Mickey's face in his hands. Mickey had never outwardly expressed his desire to break the Milkovich mold like this. Ian could hear the fear behind every word and it hurt him to see Mickey like that. He was the strongest man Ian had ever known, but he always admired the strength it took to tell Ian all of this.

“I won’t,” Ian told him. “You are always worth it. Always. I love you, Mickey, and I don’t want to lose you.” Mickey was shaking his head as he placed his hands over Ian’s.

“You never lost me,” Mickey said softly, relaxing under Ian’s touch. “You may have wanted to end things, but I never got rid of us.” He then took Ian’s hand and lowered it to his chest, right on top of the tattoo that remained on Mickey’s heart.

“I’m so sorry,” Ian said again and he was willing to say it as many times as it took for Mickey to hear him. Ian looked into Mickey’s eyes then and saw something that reminded him of something Mandy had once said to him. That look in Mickey’s eyes finally made him relax.

“I’m sorry, too,” Mickey said, reaching up to run his thumb along Ian’s cheekbone.

“For what?” Ian asked, his brow furrowed. Mickey smoothed out the crease between his brows, not letting Ian stress about anything else.

“For not letting you in sooner,” Mickey said. “We could have more, so much more. Fuck, I missed you,” Mickey breathed out as he tugged Ian into him. Their lips met with a warm and firm kiss. Ian threw his arms around Mickey’s pulling him even closer. Mickey savored the feel of Ian Gallagher’s lips on his own as he sighed into the kiss.

Shoving his hands into Ian’s hair, he tugged on it, eliciting a moan from the taller man much to Mickey’s satisfaction. Ian kissed him a few more times before he pulled back, letting his forehead rest against Mickey’s so they could catch their breath. “Tell your family to back off now,” Mickey said with a smile.

“Tell them yourself,” Ian said. “You're moving in with me.”

“Is that so?” Mickey asked as he pushed back a bit so he could see Ian’s face.

“Don’t argue with me, Mr. Milkovich,” Ian said, his fingers playing with the hair at the nape of Mickey’s neck.

“You know I don’t like taking orders. I had enough of that shit in the joint,” Mickey said.

“You never complained before,” Ian said seductively as he ran his hand down Mickey’s stomach and towards his hips. Mickey raised his brows then, leaning into Ian’s hands.

“You are something else, Gallagher,” Mickey said, grateful to be with him once again, “but fuck I love you.”

“Then come here,” Ian urged as he reached for Mickey’s belt. Looking at Ian’s face, his expression filled with not just lust but love as well, Mickey melted beneath Ian’s gaze and finally felt as if he was free for the first time since getting out.

“Fuck it,” he swore as he tugged Ian in close. “Yes, Sir.” Ian grinned as he wrapped himself around Mickey again, letting everything between them solidify as they had found their way back to each other once again.

[op-sheepy]

6. dark law, 19. Davy Back, 36. the whimsical captain trafalgar law, 55. marine pet AU!

 Oh, good eye. Those are some of my favorites.. Here is another long one under the cut. Also sorry for the late response. :D

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6. Dark Law

Essentially my take (one of them at least) on what would have happened had Corazon not taken Law from the Donquixote pirates but left anyway when he thought Law had ratted him out.

Some details regarding this:

Rocinante returns to the marines and was able to submit the intelligence he'd gathered. This doesn't do much except inconvenience Doflamingo, as already acknowledged during Law and Doffy's fight.

Vergo gets discovered so he just goes back to the family.

Law does not eat the Ope Ope no mi since Doflamingo never intended for him to. At least, initially.

Because, I'm assuming, not everyone can perform the "Perennial Youth Operation," as it was stated they needed to be 'wise' or 'knowledgeable' and being a doctor does not really automatically equal that, Doflamingo had to kill the users he had chosen when none of them could do it so the fruit could go back to the circulation and he could feed it to the next potentially qualified person he could find.

Law's Amber Lead Syndrome got healed by one of these users though it was only because Law, himself, taught them how to (being familiar with the disease through his father's research as well being a good doctor)

Eventually, everyone realizes that Law is actually the most suited to wield the fruit (all the other smart doctors either having a fruit already or are simply inaccessible), certain that Law would be able to figure out how to do the ultimate technique. So, reluctantly, because he does care in his twisted conditional way, Doflamingo gives the Ope Ope no Mi to Law.

Law at this point had been raised as Doffy's right hand, all according to his plan. While he truly considers Law family and might genuinely regret making him give up his life, Doffy would still ask it from him because there is nothing more important than Doflamingo and his goals. A sentiment that almost everyone in his family considers true.

And Law... well...

Doflamingo rested both hands on Law's shoulders. His tinted glasses peering down, voice heavy with regret, "I wish there was another way."

Law's face remained impassive only broken by a small wistful twitch of his lips. It almost looked like a smile. He grasped Doflamingo's arm and directed him towards the operating table.

"You have taught me many lessons one of which was the futility of wishing for better circumstances." Law seated him and prepared his equipment.

"You taught me to take advantage of any situation by using whatever it is at my disposal." Carefully, he opened a package of sterile gloves. It wasn't really needed but the ritual of opening the pack and putting the gloves on one hand at a time always helped settle his nerves.

"I had expected you to do the same so I'd been prepared for this even before you gave me the fruit." Law lifted his eyes as he slid the first glove in place. "Don't feel too bad. I really am grateful for everything you've done for me. This is just me returning the favor."

He slid the other glove and stretched it over his hand. Softly, almost a whisper, without taking his eyes off his would-be patient, "I wish there was another way too." The snap that followed the release of the glove was too loud in the small operating room.

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19. Davy Back

Early Heart Pirates stuff. And another workaround for writing with at least one of the nameless Heart Pirates.

A Davy Back Fight is initiated for an abused crew member of the opposing crew because Penguin couldn't help himself. The rules are a work in progress, hence this fic's state in limbo.

I really like writing about how these guys were when starting out. They probably looked too adorable, to be honest, so in the harsh North Blue they must have had a hard time getting treated seriously. Not that that would have bothered them (I honestly think they exploited it a lot.)

The enemy captain stared intently at each Heart Pirate then at the list of members given to him. The man didn't bother controlling the upward curl of his mouth.

"No powers. No weapons. Sumo wrestling with your navigator and hand-to-hand combat with your doctor."

Shachi choked and struggled a little bit to get his breathing back to normal. He waved away Penguin's hands patting his back. The pats were a little too harsh, clearly an admonishment if the accompanying glare was anything to go by.

Penguin almost felt sorry for whoever it was being matched against Law. Bepo, while just as incensed by the other crew, was way too conscious of controlling his strength to ever really hurt anyone too badly. The captain, on the other hand, could turn someone into a useless writhing lump of agony by systematically dislocating joints Penguin hadn't even known could be dislocated. Gruesome as severed body parts looked, the powers could at least make it painless.

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36. The Whimsical Captain Trafalgar Law

More Heart Pirates stuff though would feature some of the allied crews as well. This is actually a series/multi-chaptered (or would be).

A Heart Pirates adventure fic where they all go along with their captain's whims all while trying to figure him out. His crew is so used to it they barely even flinch anymore.

Not to say they understand him because who knows what goes inside their captain's head. In fact, they debate that sometimes (a lot of times) the crew being divided among those who think Law has got a plan and those who think he's winging it (often switching really).

"You can't possibly tell me there's some sort of plan behind this."

More than half of the crew looked a bit skeptical, the rest looked defensive.

Clione held up his hands. "Hey, I'm not complaining. I'll follow the captain wherever same as you. But you gotta admit that there isn't always a method to his madness. He really does do things on a whim."

"I disagree. The captain's just saying that but he knows what he's doing. Pretty sure there's a reason behind all his actions..." Protests started, so Penguin amended, "...that isn't just him being a bastard on purpose because he hates someone. Which is a pretty valid reason since we are pirates."

"How about that time we raided the flour factory?" Ikkaku asked.

Penguin's reply came immediately. "Discreet incendiary." A beat. "...also he hates bread."

Before they could celebrate, Shachi interrupted, "His dislike of bread counts as a reason and since it's incidental it doesn't count as a whim."

With narrowed eyes, Clione tried again. "The monastery? Dressing up as monks."

"Medicinal plant in the courtyard bred by this one priest."

"Marineford?"

"Allowed us to get intel and allies."

"And the emergency operations without anesthesia?"

"Possible drug interaction. Emporio Ivankov and their hormone powers."

So continued their back and forth. By the end of it, Penguin and Shachi looked way too smug. Truthfully, they both agreed Law was more impulsive than he let on, often unaware of it himself. But they knew the man they chose to follow always had a plan and purpose (though not necessarily present at the start, but semantics)

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55. Marine Pet AU

Haha... Another one of those difficult to explain ones. Starring the Marines (particularly the original three admirals and Sengoku), and the Shichibukai.

Uhm... So everything's the same except the Shichibukai aren't pirates. They're animals. That's it.

It starts with a wayward flamingo wearing eyewear harassing officers near one of their HQs. Also the Marines need to improve their public image. For some reason, the best they came up with is to get a mascot. Hitting two birds with one stone. (Except they can't really hit the bird. They tried)

So the Marines build a zoo or a habitat. Here are the only types of pirates the World Government can tolerate. Aren't they cute and fluffy?

The public eat it all up. It's popular so now they have to commit. And really, these animals become so important their safety and wellbeing become the higher-ups' problem.

Kizaru is having fun. Aokiji is resigned. Akainu tries (he doesn't quite know what but he'll do what's best for the Marines even if that's getting that damn flamingo away from the reptile enclosure for the tenth time that week on a Tuesday.)

Will feature other marines as well as all of the Shichibukai. All of them.

He checked the schedule and sighed deeply.

Boa, Doflamingo, Mihawk.

He had the most troublesome ones. Briefly, he contemplated just letting his subordinates handle them but quickly scrapped the idea.

He wouldn't say these animals were attached to him and the other admirals but they got more difficult to handle the lower the rank as though these creatures' egos get ruffled. It wasn't a matter of ability. It was perhaps more accurate to say that they had respect. A modicum of it.

It should be Boa's feeding time. Another sigh escaped him as he headed towards the grooming room, a room specifically made to groom Boa's food.

It took them a while to figure out the snake's preferred diet but they found it out when a stray kitten had snuck in and Boa swooped in to swallow it whole. From there they determined that she would only eat cute animals--any less adorable and she doesn't even look at it. So puppies and kittens. And maybe bunny rabbits. Which was bad from a PR perspective so they've taken to grooming rats. Put a nice lovely ribbon and brushed them so they're all fluffy.

He entered the grooming room and one of the officers assigned there took a quick look at him, glanced down the rat they were grooming, then burst to tears (they tended to get attached.) He pressed his hand to his head letting the ice cool down his budding headache. Why couldn't he have gotten Jinbe?

Thank you for playing. :)

[songsformonkeys]

Digging Up Bones (whiskey x f!reader) - chapter 2

[Banner by the lovely @yespolkadotkitty ]

Summary: You work for the Statesmen as the head of their medical department. It’s your job to patch up anyone who gets back wounded and to work on ways to prevent them from getting badly wounded in the first place.

Agent Whiskey, in particular, seems to be more accident-prone than the rest and he never passes up a reason to come see you, whether for real injuries or imaginary ones. The two of you form a close friendship, which slowly turns into something more.

Then a British man with a headshot wound and a fascination with butterflies shows up in your emergency room and in the events that follow you’re forced to reevaluate just about everything you thought you knew about your partner.

Warnings: Canon typical violence

Masterlist

Chapter 2

You hadn't applied for the job with the Statesmen. The Statesmen had found you. Fresh out of John Hopkins University, you had just gotten yourself a degree in medicine and had written a thesis on the possibilities of regrowing brain tissue after severe head trauma when they had approached you.

Your life had been fairly normal, if a bit boring according to others, up until that point. You had never been much of a social butterfly and you didn't really have much family or many friends. So you'd spent the majority of your college years either studying or volunteering for various experiments or science projects. Others had always seemed to pity you a bit for the uneventful and very much predictable way you lived your life, but you liked it. It was familiar and it was safe. Besides, you loved the field of medicine, and given the choice between reading about the deteriorating effect alcohol and drugs had on the human brain versus experiencing it first and second hand, you definitely preferred the former.

The plan had always been for you to stay within the world of the university, to continue to do research, and maybe even teach. But you know what they say about the best-laid plans...

Yours had gone awry when two men in Stetson hats and identical glasses had showed up to your graduation party. Well...party was a strong word for it. You had been having dinner at your favorite Italian restaurant, accompanied by your diploma and your iPad, when the two men had sauntered in. One had been an older, gray-haired man with a purple cravat tie and a slight underbite. The other, a dark-haired man with equally dark eyes and mustache. His collar had been popped and he'd been eyeing you, your diploma, and the iPad as if you were clues to a particularly curious riddle.

When the older of the two had introduced them you had immediately begun to wonder if this was some sort of joke. Champagne and Whiskey weren't real names and yet that had been exactly the names the older man had given. They had asked to join you at your table and you had been too curious to say no.

After some more pleasantries on their part and more confusion on yours, they had cut to the chase and explained why they were there. They had wanted to offer you a job. They had told you that they had been keeping track of you for a while now, something you had found immensely disturbing and that they needed someone with your set of skills and talents. You had never been one to fall for flattery though, especially coming from people who had just admitted to spying on you for the better part of two years.

In the end, it had been the video that did it. When the older man, Champagne, had realized that they weren't winning you over as smoothly as they'd hoped, he'd asked Whiskey to show you the lab. Whiskey had taken out his phone and pulled up a video on the screen before handing it over to you. As you watched the video, your jaw had dropped. Whatever this place was, it was like something from the future. You had spotted several machines that were so expensive you could only dream of using them. It was both a medical reception and a lab all in one. And, was that a room for surgery?

“All yours to play with, if you decide to join our medical team,” Champagne had said. It hadn't taken much convincing to get you to agree after that.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 You remembered the first time you'd been to the headquarters too. Champagne...well, Agent Champagne as it turned out, had sat you down and told you the story of the Statesmen. It had all sounded insane at first but after he'd given you the tour, you had to admit that every incredulous detail was probably true.

He'd shown you to your office/reception and you had felt like you might cry. Just this room was bigger than your old apartment, and way fancier too. On top of your desk, there had been a set of white scrubs neatly folded, along with a lab coat. When you had picked up the coat you had noticed a gold nametag pinned to it.

“Moonshine?” you had asked.

“Everyone who works here has a moniker. We thought this one would be fitting.” You hadn't asked why. It was an absolutely ridiculous moniker but you had figured it had already been decided for you and therefore wasn't really up for discussion.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Over the next few years, you worked tirelessly for the Statesmen, quickly advancing in the ranks and barely taking a day off. Why would you? This was your dream, and then some!

You had been offered an apartment off-site but it hadn't taken long before you'd managed to convince them to let you stay inside the HQ and you had moved what little furniture you had into one of the rooms adjacent to your office. Considering its padded walls and one-way mirror, it was most likely intended as some sort of cell but after you had moved your stuff in you had to admit that it was quite cozy. The mirror creeped you out the first night you slept there so the next day you covered it up with newspaper. In the years that followed it had slowly turned in to noticeboard where you'd taped up all kinds of stuff.

The Statesmen had let you practice medicine as well as continue your studies and you became a skilled trauma doctor and studied surgery along with your colleagues in the medical department. You saw more blood and bones and intestines than any normal person should but you found that you handled it quite well. Your curiosity and eagerness to learn kept the emotional aspect of the horrific things you saw at bay. Your bedside manners could probably have done with a bit of improvement but you worked with agents and you figured that if they needed you to coddle them then they had no business being in this line of work. Besides, you had your colleague Tonic whose expertise lay in the field of psychology and he was always happy to come along and soften anything you said, while still making you look professional. You enjoyed working with him.

Along with the people from the tech department, you also managed to expand on the subject of your thesis, and with the help of the seemingly limitless resources of the organization, your two departments were eventually able to present a product that was nothing short of revolutionary.

The Alpha-gel had been your brain-child for so many years and when you finally got to watch it being demonstrated to the other agents, you were so nervous that your entire body was shaking. Your friend Ginger had to put her arm around your shoulder to prevent your teeth from rattling, or perhaps she was worried you might topple over. You hadn't...but it had been a pretty close call.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 It wasn't long after the invention of the Alpha-gel that you had been asked to take over as head of the medical department when the previous one had chosen to retire. You'd said yes, of course, and you'd been walking on clouds for the rest of the day. It was only when you'd retired to your office that evening for some reading, that a feeling of sadness came over you.

It was at times like this that you missed not having a close family. You had grown up with foster parents and while they had been nice people, you had very little in common with them and when you had moved out to start college it had basically been understood by all parties that you wouldn't keep in touch much. You still sent cards on birthdays and holidays but that was it. They wouldn't understand something like this. Besides, even if you had wanted to tell them about this, you couldn't. It was all classified.

You had felt the same kind of sadness on the day of your graduation, immensely proud of your accomplishments but also suddenly very lonely, and just like that time, it had been a dark-haired agent in a Stetson that came to cheer you up.

“Come in!” you yelled at the knock on the door.

“...Can't! You gotta help me out, darlin'!” came agent Whiskey's response from the other side of the door.

“You better not have broken your arms again!” you called and set your book and marker down on your desk before walking over to the door.

“Arms are fine, just a little preoccupied!”

You didn't fully believe him. Out of all the agents, Whiskey was by far the one to seek your assistance the most. Whether it was for broken arms, concussions, torn muscles, gunshot wounds, burns, nausea, headaches or, which was the most frequent one, “ just a general feelin' of unwell, thought maybe best you check it out”, Whiskey seemed to show up at your office at least once a week with some ailment or another.

In the beginning, it had actually worried you enough that you'd secretly spoken to Champ about it, asking if it really was wise to let Whiskey out on so many missions when he always seemed to come back hurt from them. Champ had just laughed and given you a meaningful look. He'd told you that Whiskey was by far one of the Statesmen's most skilled agents and that he was fairly certain at least half of Whiskey's injuries were all in his head. Champ had said he suspected Whiskey mostly came for the company.

You'd read three books on hypochondria, that you'd borrowed from Tonic, over the next week and while Whiskey didn't quite fit the description you wanted to try and help him in the best way you could.

When you opened the door this time, though, there were no apparent injuries. Just Whiskey, balancing a plate with big, round chocolate cake in one hand and holding a bottle of liquor in the other.

“Whiskey, what...?” you asked, almost a little speechless.

“Heard about the promotion, figured we needed a celebration,” he grinned, as usual not waiting for your invitation before stepping into your office. He shook the bottle a little as he set the cake down on your desk. “Fetch us two of those plastic mugs you've got here somewhere.”

“I'll fetch you one. I don't like whiskey.”

“Oh darlin', you wound me!” he gasped and you rolled your eyes at him. Always with the theatrics. Whiskey definitely had a flair for drama. Though you had to admit, it was somewhat entertaining. And the fact that he was here tonight, having thought of you like this made something warm settle in your chest.

“The drink. You, I tolerate.” you shot back and Whiskey laughed.

You went and got him a plastic mug from the cupboard in the other room. When you got back he pulled two forks from his back pocket and patted the seat of your chair. You sat down and eyed the cake a little hesitantly.

“There aren't any almonds in this, right?” you asked. You weren't deadly allergic to them but the swelling and itching was something you would gladly never experience again.

“Should hope not, since I made very sure not to put any in there. Just for you.”

“You made this?” You hadn't meant for your voice to sound quite so incredulous but Whiskey took it in stride.

“Sure did, sugar!” he said and then added, with a wink, “I'm a man of many talents, most of which you constantly refuse to let me show you, despite me offering.”

“I view it as good practice for you to not always get what you want.”

Whiskey feigned a sigh.

“Well, they say distance makes the heart grow fond...”

“...so considering how often you show up here, I can't imagine that much fondness for me has grown at all.”

“Oh on the contrary, darlin'! If only you knew the kind of self-restraint that I show by only showing up here once a week.”

You laughed at his jokes and gently smacked him on the arm.

“Ap ap! Haven't you taken a vow not to do harm?”

“I promise to heal whatever I break. Now cake?”

“Cake,” Whiskey agreed and handed you one of the forks. There were no other plates besides the one the cake was already on so you assumed Whiskey expected you to just dig into the whole cake. It wasn't your preferred way to eat cake, too messy, but you were polite enough not to point that out. Instead, you dug up a small piece of cake with your fork. Whiskey was watching you expectantly as you took your first bite.

The cake was incredible and you held your hand in front of your mouth to tell Whiskey as much without showing him the half-chewed cake still in your mouth. His face immediately lit up as he smiled wide.

“I'm glad you enjoy it,” he said and watched you take another bite before joining you and taking a bite of his own. He was sitting down on your desk, next to the cake and when you looked down to make sure the cake didn't end up on his jeans, you noticed that he was sitting on a pile of papers.

“You're sitting on my report,” you pointed out. Instead of moving away, Whiskey simply spread his legs wider and tried to read upsidedown what could be seen of the text between his thighs.

“So I am, it seems,” he answered but still didn't move. Your fingers itched to move the papers from underneath him but you kept yourself in check. There was a bigger risk that the papers would crease or tear if you tried moving them now. As long as Whiskey stayed mostly still then maybe you wouldn't need to reprint all of the pages after he'd gone.

“Soo..., “ he drawled, “Head of the medical department. That's big, Moonshine. How's it feel?”

“It feels good,” you replied, “A bit scary. I'm not used to people expecting me to tell them what to do. What if I'm no good at it?” You looked up at Whiskey as you asked the question and he gave you a kind smile.

“You hardly need to worry about that. I've seen you patching up the most gruesome injuries. Cool as a cucumber every single time and handing out orders left and right. Everyone loves it when you take charge. You really don't need to wait for a life-and-death situation to do so. There isn't a single person more capable of running this department.”

You adjusted your glasses to hide your blush. They were not the same model as the agents' glasses. Instead, yours were a pair of almost round, wire-rimmed ones that Ginger had modeled after the glasses you'd worn even before you started working for the Statesmen.

“You're just biased because you know me better than the others,” you argued.

“Maybe,” Whiskey admitted, “Doesn't mean you can't trust me.”

“Actually, the very definition of biased means...” you began but Whiskey interrupted you by holding out his fork with a piece of cake towards you.

“Have some more cake,” he said. You glanced down at the fork, with a small frown.

“That's your fork,” you stated.

“Very observant,” Whiskey retorted and moved the fork even closer. He was giving you an expectant look and, after a few moments of consideration of the risks involved in swapping cutlery, you opened your mouth and let him feed you the piece of cake.

“I'm heading for New York tomorrow,” Whiskey told you.

“Oh...,” you said slowly and Whiskey smirked.

“Well, I'll be damned if that didn't sound like disappointment just then!” He looked way too smug for your liking. So what if there had been a bit of disappointment to your tone? Whiskey knew you didn't hate his company. And he must be aware that you let him get away with things none of the other agents would be allowed to. The excessive flirting, for one thing.

Tonic had once pointed out that it was curious how Whiskey was messy and pushy and loud and pretty much all the things you disliked and yet you hadn't stabbed him with a scalpel and even seemed to enjoy his company. You couldn't explain it either, though lord knows you had tried to figure out what it was about the other agent that had allowed him to get under your skin like this. It frustrated you to no end that you hadn't been able to come up with an answer.

“How long will you be gone?” you asked, ignoring Whiskey's comment and stupid smile.

“A little over a week. Head of the New York office needs some assistance with a local art dealer that's up to some shady business.”

Whiskey reached for a piece of paper and one of your pens and quickly scribbled something down before handing the piece of paper to you. You glanced down at the note and the numbers he'd written down.

“I already have your number in the computer system, agent Whiskey.”

“I know but I figure that with this charming little note from yours truly lying on your desk you'd be more likely to actually use it.”

“You want me to call you?”

“Of course! Seeing as I won't be able to come and visit my favorite physician, I gotta get my fix somehow.” Whiskey winked at you and you looked down at the note again. You weren't sure how much healing you could do from across the country but if it made Whiskey happy that you would call and check up on him then you could do just that.

“Okay, I'll call,” you said and neatly put the little note under the edge of your keyboard so it wouldn't get lost. Even if playing along with Whiskey's hypochondria probably wasn't the best way to cure it, the smile he gave you when you said you'd call made it feel like you'd made the right decision. He poured himself another drink and managed to tip his hat at you all in one swift motion.

“Much obliged!”

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Whiskey stayed for another hour or so, making small-talk and telling you about all the art-related stuff he'd had to learn for the mission he was leaving on.

When eleven o'clock rolled around you couldn't help but yawn and you quickly apologized to Whiskey.

“Don't sweat it, darlin'! It seems I've kept you up past your bedtime again. Let me walk you home.”

It was the same joke Whiskey had made hundreds of times before. The same joke he always made when he'd come to see you in the evening. The door to your room was literally two doors down from the room you were currently in but Whiskey always made sure to walk you there, even if the way out was in the opposite direction. In the beginning, you'd protested, unable to, wrap your mind around the logic behind it. After a while, however, you had decided, as you had with so many other things when it came to Whiskey, to just go along with it.

“What should we do with the rest of the cake?” you asked and looked around the room with a frown.

“Just put it in the fridge,” Whiskey said, pointing to the aforementioned refrigerator in the corner of the office.

“Whiskey, that fridge is for medical samples, not cake!” you protested and he just shrugged and rolled his eyes playfully at you.

“Fine! I'll take it back to mine. But then you gotta promise to go there and finish the rest of it.”

You promised, realizing you'd never been to Whiskey's apartment before. He didn't live in the Statesmen headquarters like you did but you knew his apartment was only a few minutes away, in the housing area where most of the agents and staff lived.

Whiskey picked up the cake and you quickly cleaned away any crumbs from your desk and tossed them in the trashcan before hanging up your coat on the wall.

“Do you own any clothes besides scrubs?” Whiskey asked curiously from over by the door. He was eyeing you from head to toe as if it was only now that he'd noticed the outfit you'd worn every single time you'd seen each other, apart from the first time that you had met.

“Sure, I do,” you answered, joining him and stepping out of the office, “I just rarely have a reason for wearing them.”

Whiskey nodded, looking thoughtful as you walked the few steps over to your door.

“Well, this is me,” you said, sticking to the usual script of this interaction.

“I don't suppose I get a goodnight-kiss as thanks for making sure you got home safely tonight as well?” Whiskey asked and leaned against the wall next to your door. He licked his lips and smirked when your eyes accidentally dropped to his mouth. Curse him and his jokes.

“The only danger to me down here is you and that persistent mouth of yours, Whiskey,” you replied and unlocked your door. “And I doubt kissing it would make it any less persistent.”

“I'd never hurt you, gorgeous, but I can't argue with that last statement. Lips like yours are hardly a one-time destination.”

You blushed. It annoyed you to no end that Whiskey always managed to do that. He just smiled and took a step back.

“I'm leaving at an ungodly hour tomorrow morning so I probably won't have time to swing by and see you before I leave. But don't forget to call me, alright?”

You assured him again that you would call him and then you quickly slipped into your room before he could make any further comments to make you blush. You heard him laugh through the door.

Getting ready for bed took no time at all. The room wasn't huge and with your bookshelves, armchair and closet it was a little bit crowded, although still with a homey feel to it. The bed was in the middle of the room, just like it was in all the other cells, and there was a sink at one end of the room and a shower at the other. The shower, you rarely used, opting instead for using the ones over by the training rooms.

You brushed your teeth over the sink, slipped out of the scrubs, and put them in the laundry bag. You felt your eyes drooping closed even before you were fully under the covers on the bed.

[thisiswhatshefelt]

For Olivia

Summary: Line cook Johnny "Coco" Cruz has made many bad decisions in his life, but his biggest regret is not being a part of his children's lives. He reconciles with his teenage daughter, Letty, so he’s hopeful when he shows up on his four-year-old daughter’s doorstep. Shanice Hunter, a newly-appointed guardian, is determined to protect Olivia from anything— even if that means her own father. Story Warnings (overall): Other than some mild language and alcohol/drug use, this is some pretty fluffy stuff. For me, anyway. Multi-chapter. Pairing: Chef!Coco x Black!OC Words: ~1.3k

Chapter One They’ve never met. She’s never even seen a picture of him. But when Shanice opens her door and sees the tattooed man standing in her doorway, she immediately knows that he’s Johnny Cruz.

The process isn’t as long as everyone warns her it would be, but it is incredibly tedious. There are complicated forms to fill out and hearings to attend, but she forces herself to trust the process. She’s patient. And after three months, she officially becomes the legal guardian of the four-year-old girl standing beside her.

Their things are unpacked, yet Shanice keeps the flattened boxes stacked in the storage room on the deck. It’s been weeks since moving into this new apartment, and fear keeps her from tossing the boxes. She’s afraid some technicality will delay the process, or that her best friend, Mel, will change her mind about the whole thing.

But Shanice is awarded guardianship almost too easily, but she wraps her arms around Olivia tightly when it’s official. They hug this way every night after they kneel and send their prayers off with soft ‘amens.’

The embrace comforts Shanice more than it does the little girl whose body has lost way too much weight. Olivia’s much too young for all of life’s uncertainty. She’s already learned not to trust a promise, and her appetite wavers without something definitive. She pushes food around the plate at every meal as the not yets and the soons get old, sometimes forcing spoonsful of her dinner down for Shanice’s benefit.

Olivia’s small hand holds onto Shanice’s pinky and forefinger as she looks up at the man in the doorway. He stares back at her, shoulders suddenly heavy now with what Shanice will later learn is shame. He’s looking down at what has flourished in his absence.

Shanice sometimes tries to imagine his face, but he’s shapeless in her mind, and it’s hard to put a face to something without form. To catch smoke in her hand. Olivia has the same round, expressive brown eyes that give her away, and she has those same ears that are too big for her head.

Johnny’s ears are even more emphasized by his long hair that he tucks behind them. Tattoos peak out from the cuffs of his sleeves and the neck of his sweatshirt like weeds slipping through cracks in a wall.

He clears his throat before taking a half step forward. There are so many features that he and Olivia share, but his are masked in a furtive shadow even as he’s flooded with light from her apartment. Entirely too nondescript. He’s wearing dark jeans and an unmarked black hooded sweatshirt like he’s been trying to stop the darkness from clawing at his back.

Shanice shields Olivia, pulling her back and out of view when he inches forward.

“Sorry to come at you so late at night,” he says, tearing at the silence. “Uh, I’m Coco- I mean, I’m Johnny Cruz, Miss. Can we talk?”

“Go to your room, Olivia,” Shanice tells the girl, but it sounds as though she’s scolding her.

The curt tone is misdirected, meant for the recognizable stranger at the door. She looks behind her and watches as the little girl’s eyebrows weave together with confusion. She retreats to her new room with half her attention still focused on the door. Shanice gives a tight smile, attempting to reassure Olivia as the door pushes in but doesn’t completely shut.

“She’s beautiful,” the man lets fall from his mouth in a small yet untidy heap.

When the doorbell rings, Shanice thinks it’s the pizza she’d ordered for dinner that Wednesday. She still has the money in the pocket of her pajama pants, but she wished she’d brought the metal bat she keeps under her bed instead.

Johnny. She might have heard the name mentioned years ago, but the memory feels like a faded dream or a faint taste of déjà vu on her tongue.

“What do you want?” Shanice nearly pushes the words at him through her teeth as she speaks. She’s asking so much more with her question.

Are you going to take her away?

“You don’t gotta worry about me fuckin’ up your home or nothing,” he starts, clearing his throat more out of apprehension than necessity. He continues his researched speech, “I don’t wanna disturb nothing you got goin’ on here. I’m tryna make some amends in my life, and I’d be grateful if you would allow me to meet her.”

“How is meeting her not a disruption?”

He shakes in head, frustrated. “Naw, I meant…I’m not here to ask no custody or no bullshit like that.”

“You goddamn right, because I’ll kill you before I let that happen.” It’s intended mostly as a figure of speech, but she steps forward with one hand clenching the doorknob and the other clenching the money in her pocket. There isn’t anything figurative about the way she feels then as her hands tremor.

But Johnny doesn’t even seem surprised. This is something he must have expected from the list of imagined scenarios.

Out of the corner of her eye, Shanice sees the pizza delivery boy walking up the stairs with her food, and she suddenly realizes how the scene must look. She’s in a faded UCLA shirt and fuzzy pajama pants as her eyes are wide with every bit of contempt her body can muster. She relaxes her eyes, then her limbs follow as she finally remembers to breathe.

“Um, large pepperoni pizza?” the delivery boy tentatively puts forward the food, extending his lanky arms.

“Like I said,” Johnny begins. “I’m not tryna to inconvenience you or her, so I’m gonna go. If you wanna reach me…”

She watches as Johnny pulls a worn piece of paper from his pocket and slip it in the fold of the pizza box before turning and running down the steps of her place.

It takes a too-long, awkward moment to pass before Shanice remembers the delivery boy is still standing off to the side with containers of food in his scrawny hands. She apologizes as she slips him the money while simultaneously grabbing the boxes and she’s soon back inside the apartment. As Shanice puts the chain on the door, she has the strong urge to barricade it with the couch.

“Mushroom!” Shanice calls out as she washes her hands at the kitchen sink. “Pizza’s here!”

The door to Olivia’s room slowly opens and she looks around the living first before walking out of the room.

“C’mon, come wash your hands,” Shanice beckons from the sink.

Olivia joins her at the sink, pulling her step stool from the corner of the kitchen. She glances up at Shanice, squishing soap suds between her fingers.

“Who’s’at man?” Olivia blurts out.

There it is.

Shanice knows the inquiry must eventually come, but she doesn’t expect it this soon. Not before she has time to think of what to say.

“He’s just…” she shakes her hand, accidentally pumping more soap back on her hands to rinse for the second time. “He’s an old friend,” Shanice manages.

“How come you looked so mean at him?”

“Well, he’s mommy’s friend-”

“Oh,” Olivia’s eyebrows knit again, completely understanding. She’s seen a lot of Mel’s friends- old and new and temporary. “So…” Her face contorts with one eye scrunched as if she’s looking through a kaleidoscope. “…so he bringed a pizza?”

“No, Mush,” Shanice laughs at the conclusion Olivia draws. “I’m hungry, are you hungry?”

Olivia’s attention lands on the warm pizza now on their counter, but her favorite are the garlic rolls. Shanice is fearful that Olivia will go back to pushing her food around every time a meal is presented. Her cheeks are slowly beginning to fill, though. The childish chub is returning to her face as her appetite slowly begins to pick up. She’s less folded into herself, walking more like a child and less like a shadow.

They eat on the couch, watching A Goofy Movie while Shanice is the one who picks at her dinner tonight. Her stomach is in deep twists and doesn’t leave any space for anything else as she thinks of what’s to come from Johnny Cruz.

Next chapter: Two

[dragonnan]

Sharing Saturday - a List of Fic Recs

I haven’t restricted this to a number but I’m also doing my best to keep it from going out of control, too.  I pretty much just have 2 consistent fandoms that I read/write so if you like either the MCU or Sherlock then this is the post for you!

MCU:

Adventures Throughout the Multiverse (Series) by Aelaer Jumping into different dimensions always involves risk. Sometimes you never know what sort of troubles you will run into until you have arrived. Thankfully, alongside these dangers a sorcerer is sometimes lucky enough to come upon unexpected allies.

In which Stephen encounters characters from characters from JRR Tolkien to even his own doppelgänger in Sherlock Holmes. I LOVE these!! Not only supremely clever and lovingly researched but just straight up entertaining as fuck!  @aelaer writes some of the best Doctor Strange fic that I’ve read on on top of all that is a spectacular artist besides!

Omertà by HanukoYoukai After chasing down the criminal that took Uncle Ben's life, Peter is found by James Wesley, the right-hand man of Wilson Fisk--a wealthy businessman trying to clean up Hell's Kitchen. Having left a strong impression on the man, soon Peter finds himself working for Fisk, doing an internship for his business projects by day, and catching bad guys at night. If Mr. Fisk wants a few specific criminals delivered to him personally, who is Peter to object? All his boss wants to do is talk, after all, and ever since this internship began, things were finally looking up for the Parkers. Then Peter hears the whispers in the underworld about the elusive and terrifying Kingpin, and somehow there are rumors that Spider-Man is on the Crime Lord's payroll. When he decides to use his own judgement and go against Mr. Fisk's wishes, Peter suddenly finds himself neck deep in mob activity with no means to get himself out. To make matters worse, now Iron Man has Peter in his sights.....

I LOVE her writing - the interpretations of Peter Parker and fantastic and do right by him in a big way.  Peter is actually the teenager I expect to encounter - with all of the nuance and emotion that I want to see!  On top of that THIS is some top notch Tony Stark - again, very true to canon with his Stark snark intact!

Identity Saga (Series) by KitCat992 An organically developed, platonic slow-burn of Avengers-fam dynamic with a heavy hand of Irondad & Spiderson. Throw in an overdose of whump, a couple of cunning villains and a big-bad hiding in the shadows, and you got yourself this hot mess.

Another stunning Peter Parker writer and OH my gosh if you are an IronDad fan and haven’t read this yet like what in THE hell are you doing?? Strap that seatbelt tight and paste your eyeballs to this series you will NOT be disappointed!

A Twisted Upheaval (WIP) by silentsaebyeok “I’m afraid, Harrison, you’ve awakened a sleeping giant.” Wilson said. “Tony Stark will do anything and everything to protect those he loves. And with your carelessness, it is inevitable that my criminal empire will be brought to its knees. This is your last opportunity, your last chance to get this right. He is on our radar now.” -- The Kingpin runs the criminal underworld. He is the mastermind and the puppeteer. Tony Stark has been trying to find the elusive gangster for years, but with no luck. But then Peter Parker is kidnapped by an agent of the Kingpin’s, revealing the cracks in an otherwise unshakeable organization. Unlikely alliances form and friendships are made as the criminal underworld begins to unravel.

*Smacks my desktop* THIS story!! It isn’t even completed yet but this fic is top level epic! This one, along with Omertà, got me totally hooked on Wilson Fisk interfering with both Peter and Tony and boy does it deliver on those dynamics!!

Sherlock:

Got My Eye on You (Series) by 7PercentSolution These stories cover just about everything from Greg's POV, from the first day they met when Sherlock was 17 through the pre-John years, John's arrival, their work together, the fall and the reunion, covering events in broadcast series 1-3 (and 4 eventually). If you ever wondered why Greg Lestrade was one of the three people Moriarty targeted, this is your answer. 

Frankly I love everything I’ve read so far - the stories are incredible and deep and not afraid to dig into hard subjects.  There is a wealth of backstory and Sherlock’s younger years and all the hardships he dealt with.  I’m especially in love with the OC, Sam - what a treasured character!

It takes John Watson to save your life. by Sparkypip A series of One shots where John saves Sherlock's life in so many ways. Will be updated sporadically as and when I get any time to write. As always I like my characters hurt, so plenty of angst, H/C, whump and bromance (no slash) will ensue. Please comment if you can.

These were some of the first Sherlock fics I ever read and I have been hooked on this writer to this day!  SO satisfyingly whumpy and on top of that many of the stories have their own comfort follow up story!!

A Sharp, Dressed Man 'verse (Series) by sgam76

I just love this series to bits and while the author considers is a break from heavier subjects, don’t for one second think that means it can’t take a deep dive into its own mythology nor deliver a freaking spectacular tale!  I have loved vampire AU for a long time and this series is pure delight and hits every damn button for me! You want a cool interpretation of vampires? BAM! You want family dynamics to the extreme? BAM AGAIN!  You want exploration of creature angst? BAM BAM BAAAAM!!! I’ve already read through these three or five times and I can promise I will do so again!

The Chemist by TheGracefulBlueCat Sherlock returns to Baker Street and faces detox. But he feels too exhausted and bad to go through it fully conscious, so he - once more - uses his mind palace to distract him with an old case. But due to his drug issues and the tension between him and John things don't work as smoothly as everyone hoped they would, confronting Sherlock and all his friends with more of their demons than they would have liked to.

This writer is absolutely on-point with the writing of these characters - especially Sherlock.  It was primarily through this writing that I felt I got such a good view of why the interpretation of Sherlock as autistic makes sense - but that it is the only truly logical conclusion. Not to mention the fanart @ceruleanmindpalace (same person) creates will leave you breathless!!   

Who You Really Are (Series) by EnglandsGray So very like her, to take something he would otherwise find inconsequential – boring – and transform it into something he couldn’t live without...For Sherlock, after Sherrinford, none of the worlds he inhabits will ever be the same again. He can see a way to rebuild, but he is terrified.  For Molly Hooper, strength is something she feels she is losing by the day, but the time has come for her to stand her ground.

Ohhhh my gosh like deep dive right into the pit of angst! And yet so soft and precious.  This first story of the series is one that I’m still going through and it is unbelievably rich and welling with delicious plot stuff and relationship and hurt/comfort and just - you gotta read iiit!!!

He Is Different, This One by ASilvergirl How would the Serbian "interrogation" go if his captors knew that Sherlock was neuroatypical and had synaesthesia? This is an alternate version of the scene from "The Empty Hearse."

I mean, how could I not love this fic? For the record I’m still not even a little bit tired of fics that explore what may have happened in Serbia.  It is just one of the most unresolved moments in  the series - going from that damn beating to him walking in on John like I NEED MOOORE!!! And this fic gives me SO much more than I could have expected!  Plus I’m always doubly onboard with a story that depicts Sherlock as neuroatypical.

There are sooooo many more fics I could link!! As it is I’ve been at this for about 3 hours and I’m dropping to the floor.  But to see the rest of the stories I’ve loved please check out my bookmarks!

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

What a Time to be Alive - Diego Hargreeves x reader Season I

Chapter 8- I Heard A Rumor

Summary: Five’s healing from his shrapnel wound, Diego’s been arrested, now it’s up to you and Allison to find Vanya.

Masterlist - where all the other chapters are⚔️

Tagged: @sambucky8 @white-wolf-buckaroo @2cuteforyourlies @la-vie-en-amour1 @fandomoverlord221 @thatfandombitcch @alonewolfsblog @starrrybarnes @winterboobear11

The drive to Jenkins grandmothers house is long and silent, the two of you settling into a nervous quiet. Allison worried for Vanya, while you’re worried for what’s happening with Diego. Of all the times for him to get arrested and it’s right when you guys get a lead. Perfect. You cross your arms as you lean yourself against the door, closing your eyes tight and taking a deep breath as you open them once again. Looking out the window at the scenery, it’s dark out and raining heavily as Allison drives. Deciding now is as good as ever, you close your eyes and lay your head against your arm, trying to catch up on some sleep, hoping the ride goes faster.

When you open them again it’s early morning, the sun is still hiding behind the clouds leaving the world in dull blues, pinks, and oranges. You shift your gaze over to Allison who looks like she’s about to fall asleep at the wheel.

 “I don’t think you’d survive a car crash...so in other words, I’ll drive the rest of the way there. Deal.” You tell her with a bit of tired humor in your voice, she gives you a weary nod, slowing the vehicle down and steering it off the side of the highway.

 You both get out, switching positions, as you start the car up beginning to take down the road again. You glance over at Allison who’s already passed out on the window, “Good talk.” You mutter to yourself, content with the comfortable silence.

You get off the highway, making a couple turns here and there until you reach a gravel backroad. This is it. You cautiously make your way down the drive, past trees, ferns, and other greenery. You’d honestly be enjoying the surroundings of nature more, if this trip wasn’t about finding Vanya and her crazy boyfriend. 

“Allison wake up, we’re here.” You whisper, reaching out to nudge her shoulder as you park at the bottom of the small gravel driveway. She startles awake, looking at her surroundings, relaxing once she sees how calm you are.

“That seemed fast. Thanks for driving us the rest of the way...I was seriously about to pass out at the wheel.” She explains with a yawn, you let out an amused puff of air.

“I’ve been in a car wreck before....I know surprising right...it’s not what I would consider, a fun experience.” She lets out a small chuckle at your early morning bluntness, it still amazes her how unfazed you’ve become to traumatic events that have happened to you. You’re guessing it all stems from the rapid healing and whatnot, you’re body doesn’t exactly give you a proper second to contemplate your injuries. Already deciding to heal everything quickly and get on with the next problem.

The both of you get out, slowly walking up towards the cabin, deciding to find a side entrance instead of barging in through the front. It’s best to be subtle, unlike some specific individual who you will not name. You slyly stalk your way to a low window, Allison right behind you.

 “See anything?” She whispers as you peer carefully through the glass, not catching sight of anything of any real importance.

That is, until your eyes land on a black violin case, “Vanya’s violin case...but that’s it, I don’t hear any movement.” You whisper back, moving away from the window to face her, “Let’s get out of here, they can’t be that far.” You add glancing around the old cabin, she agrees and the two of you turn to leave.

——

“Someone better have fucking died, why are we stuck in goddamn traffic...in the countryside...literally nowhere. We’re not even in the city, what the hell?” You angrily ramble as Allison sits at the wheel listening to you go off. It takes another ten minutes to finally make it to some restaurant type business plaza area where something out of the norm has defiantly occured. Traffic is at a standstill once again as you look out the passenger side window at the various policemen wandering about in the nearby parking lot. She suddenly gets out of the car, noticing police cars surrounding some fenced off area with police tape all around it. You grumble, opening up your own door, flipping up your hood and hastily following her. She grabs a scarf that was hanging from off of a sign, walking over to the police tape and lifting it up to make her way into the off limits zone.

 “Allison what the fu..” You start to tell her as a police officer gets to her first. 

“Hey! Pardon me. Hey! I gotta ask you to stay behind the lines. We had an accident here last night.” He explains, halting her from walking any further. You make it to the yellow caution tape, standing on the outside like a civilized person.

 “What happened here then?” You wonder, not unnoticing of the narly blood stain smeared on a nearby wall. Shit maybe someone did die.

“Ma’am. The line, please.” He adds, still wanting Allison to get behind it.

 “Okay. Yes. Sorry.” She says, lifting up the yellow caution tape and standing next to you.

“Got a lot of stuff on the ground, okay? To be wary of.”

“What happened?” You ask again, really curious as to what’s holding up traffic. 

The officer sighs while putting his hands on his hips, “We’re trying to figure that out. As soon as we do, you’ll be able to read it in the newspaper with everybody else. So have a nice day.” The officer says turning to walk away. Allison takes off her sunglasses, “Look officer, is there any way we..” He snaps back around his eyes shooting wide in surprise, “Holy shit! You’re Allison Hargreeves. I saw you on tv like two nights ago in that Sandra Bullock movie about underpaid teachers that rob a bank.” He excitedly rambles on. Rolling your eyes you flip your hood back, not caring if he recognizes you since Allison has taken it upon herself to blow cover. Your hair falls around your face as you blow a puff of wind to get a piece out of your eyes, this overly enthusiastic police officer’s mouth drops open once again. His face contorting from confusion to shock to realization. Ah, shit..he does indeed recognize you to your great surprise. He points to you excitedly, “No freakin way, you....you’re.....you’re...Y/N. This is crazy, you’re the Olympian! Of the frickin’ Umbrella Academy.” He gushes passionately, you purse your lips together, internally cringing a bit at hearing your old superhero name. The name you were given due to your likeness in powers and obvious immortality, to that likeness of the Greek gods and goddesses of mythical lore. You truly haven’t heard that name in many, many years, apparently you still have some old time fans.

 “Yep, That’s us.” You fake smile at him, Allison doing the same, enjoying the recognition way more then you are.

“Oh! Wow. Hey. Never in a million years could I have thought I’d be in the presence of Allison Hargreeves and the Olympian. How bout’ that. What a day, huh.” He says, at a loss for words and what he could say next to his two idols, you and Allison just stand in an awkward silence. “Copy, Cheddar?” Speaks a woman’s voice from his cop radio. He quickly goes to answer, “Yeah, what do you got, Fred?”

“Hospital called. Perp from last night just regained consciousness.” She replies back. “Copy. I’ll be right over.” He says back, his face morphing back to that of an excited child’s, “Wow. Allison freakin Hargreeves and Y/N...the Olympian! Wow. My wife’s not gonna believe it.” He gushes yet again, you’d love to bitchslap that smile right off of his stupid face along with his dumb stereotypical small-town cop mustache. Allison just chuckles, as you cross your arms, “Anyway, I...I..I..I gotta go. Work stuff....Yeah.” He says almost sadly. “Yeah, of course. Sorry.” Allison answer with, as Officer Cheddar walks past you two, headed for his police car. “Actually, that’s...why I’m here. I’m... I’m researching a role. A law enforcement role.. with Y/N.” She explains giving you a quick side eye, you turn your head away from them, trying to hold in laughter. No fucking way is this cop gonna believe that load of bullshit. “In Jackpine Cove? We haven’t had a murder here in years.” He tells her. “Oh, uh...it’s about, um...a small-town cop who takes down a drug cartel. In fact, maybe I could tag along while you conduct some official police business? I promise...I won’t get in the way. I just...I think you could really, um...help develop my character, if I could live a day in the life, you know.” She tells him, hoping her little fib will do the trick. He nods carefully thinking it over, “Day in the life, huh? Eh..Come on. Follow me.” You’re eyes widen as your mouth drops open, how in the fuck? And she didn’t even have to rumor him, Allison you sly dog. She gives you a hopeful glance as the two of them start walking towards his car leaving you in the dust.

“It’s fine, I’ll just trail along...gotta get the car....that you’re leaving in traffic.” You grumble as they shut their doors, you walk over to your own vehicle. Opening up the door and getting inside.

——

When you finally made it to the hospital, Officer Cheddar wouldn’t allow you near the wounded victim, calling it official police business or some shit. Allison gave you an apologetic look as you walked out the sliding glass doors without another word. 

Leaning against your car, you watch cars come and go, birds going about their day, and listen to the sweet sound of leaves rustling in the breeze. Ever grateful for the lack of car horns honking every ten seconds. As well as the usual nasty smells radiating from parts of the city and coming from god knows where else. You close your eyes, letting your mind wander.

What was happening with Diego? Is Five’s injury healed yet? Was Klaus okay? And where the hell was Vanya? So many questions and concerns throwing themselves at you, and oh right. There’s an apocalypse happening within the week. Things just are not going tremendously well this week, well that’s not entirely true. Considering you’ve had some pretty stellar times with Diego here and there, all very nice times indeed. Ah, but of course, Allison would get to have a fun little detective adventure with the local idiot. And she didn’t even have to rumor him! Even now she always gets what she wants, she always has, no..stop..you can’t think like that. You stopped giving a shit about who got the most attention long ago, you’re not about to start feeling resentment now. But your mind can’t help itself as it starts to saunter into darker grounds.

———

“Number Eight, if you weren’t so focused on the safety of Number Two, this mission would have been an utter success. But due to your lack of consistency when engaging in combat, you deliberately discontinued the annihilation of those four crime bosses. Jeopardizing the lives of their hostages, and all so Number Two wouldn’t get shot.....wounds heal.” Snaps Sir Reginald Hargreeves, as the whole of the Umbrella Academy plus yourself, sit around the dinner table. He’s verbally beating you down for saving Diego’s life on the Umbrella Academy’s latest mission. Where all of you surprise attacked a crime boss and his minions in his own mansion. You freed multiple people that where there due to human trafficking and other depraved things concerning illegal drugs and whatnot. It was successful to say the least, but a maid got shot in the arm when you decided to save Diego’s life instead. A mistake that Sir Reginald would not miss, nor would he ignore.

You glare up at him from across the table, “That maid survived. What? Would you rather have Diego die, or have a normal civilian live with some small injuries?” You ask him, as calmly as you can muster. He puts his fork down, sitting back, “You are part of the Umbrella Academy. Act like it. I will have no further arguments out of you for the rest of this meal, is that understood?” He replies sternly, cutting you off from further arguing, he takes a bite from his fork while watching your every move. You clench your jaw in frustration, no matter what you say he won’t care, “I understand.” You mutter through clenched teeth, turning away to focus sourly on your meal that you could care less about enjoying at the moment. The rest of dinner is held in an awkward silence.

As you’re returning to your room, Luther comes walking around the corner, headed for his own one. “Why do you always try and talk back to him? I mean, he is kinda right. You should have helped that woman, that’s what we’re there for.” Explains Luther as the two of you walk down the hallway.

“Of course you’d agree with him, why do I even bother.” You growl at him, rolling your eyes.

 Suddenly Allison walks out of her room, joining the two of you stopped in the hallway.

“If you’re here to tell me I was wrong for talking back I’ll shove my foot up your ass.” You deadpan, her face grimacing in disgust.

“That’s lovely. But a little advice, Y/N, if you want to stay on his good side, just shut your mouth and try to be less of an asshole.” She tells you like a scolding mother, you shake your head at them, “All you two have to do is exist and follow everything daddy tells you. While the rest of us get kicked under the rug. He likes you two the best, you know. But I don’t even need to tell you...I’m positive you both are capable of already understanding that.” You whisper yell at them, sick of all their high and mighty comments, just don’t talk and let Reginald boss you around. No way. “Whatever.” Mumbles Allison. “You just don’t know how to be normal, or how to not be a smartass.” Sasses Luther rudely.

“What? We are literally the closest thing from normal for fucks sake.” You snap at him giving him a what-the-hell-are-you-serious face, he crosses his arms in annoyance.

“Don’t swear. You know we can’t say stuff like that. Dad or Pogo might hear. And Y/N, stop trying to start stuff. You wonder why Dad makes sure you’re last for everything, he doesn’t exactly like you as much....then again neither do I.” You look at him with a poker face, trying your hardest not to bitchslap him right now. It’s honestly incredibly tempting.

“I’m really feeling the family love, Luther. And by the way.....all of you suck.” You add bluntly, flipping them off as you turn on your heel and walk angrily into your room, slamming the door in their faces. 

You sat in the middle of your floor for a good hour just fuming with quiet rage, until everything started to simmer down. They all get on your nerves to no end, and the only ones you can stand for longer then two hours are Vanya and Ben. Klaus is fun for awhile, that is on most occasions, until he starts trying to get you to see how long you can hold your hand over a flame before it hurts to much. Oddly fascinated with your ability to rapidly heal yourself, oddly enough you’ll usually do it, but you can only take Klaus in small doses. Then there’s Diego, who you’ve formed a solid love/hate relationship with. He’s just so weird, one minute he’s acting super cute and funny and trying to impress you or show off his knife skills so incredibly hard. Then a second later. Luther, Allison, or Reginald walks into the room and he’s being a jerk. Pretending like you don’t exist, and acting like such a hard-ass, it’s stupid. Klaus swears he’s got the fattest crush on you, but sometimes you’re not so sure, that kid gives you hella mixed signals.

Suddenly you hear a knock at the door, “If it’s you Luther, I’ll shank you with a paintbrush.” You tell this mystery person, crossing your arms as you look up at the door. You hear a soft chuckle from the other side, “No need. It’s just Diego....uh...could I come in? Please?” He whispers from the other side, your heart swells and you quickly get up to open it. “What’s up loser, I hope you’re not here to crush all my hopes and dreams.” You quip opening up the door wider so he can walk in, you closing it once again. He walks over to your carpet, sitting down by a bunch of random pillows. You soon follow, sitting across from him. “So, whatcha doin here?” You awkwardly ask him, confused as to why he’s in your room, not that you mind, but still. He fiddles with one of his daggers, looking down at his hands, “Uh, I wanted to say thanks for saving my ass yesterday. Sorry you took the fall for it, that was pretty badass of you to stand up to Dad.” He tells you still avoiding eye contact, you smile at him, “Well, I’d rather not have my favorite frisbee partner kick the bucket.” He smiles at that, finally looking up at you. “Yeah, we make a pretty good team, huh.” He glances down again at his dagger, nervously twisting it in his hands, “So, uh, Y/N. I..uh...have something to um...tell you.” He looks up at you, you can hear the thumping of his heartbeat quicken as a light blush dusts his cheeks, he continues, “Please don’t think I’m weird...but I really...like..yo..” Before he can finish his declaration of how he truly feels for you, the door bursts open. Revealing Luther and an angry Reginald, “Number Two. Number Eight. You were strictly told to go to your rooms and not come out until morning. I will have none of this, Number Two, out!” He snaps.

“I’m already in my room.”

He gives you a deadly warning glare as Diego gives you a sad look before bolting out the door. Reginald following as Luther gives you a snide smile, practically silently laughing at you. Fuck off, Diego was about to tell me something important you pricks. You would have liked to say, but thought otherwise, a wonderful moment utterly ruined.

———

Oh the fun childhood memories that stay with you to this day, intrusively barging their way back into your brain when you’re alone. Damn they all were little pricks back in the day, huh. All you tried to do was stand up for others and keep them safe, but all that the others wanted was to desperately please Reginald at any given opportunity. And that was the first time Diego truly opened up to you, it was short lived, but it was the start of something amazing.

“Y/N! Y/N! Hey!” Shouts Allison who’s running to you, your head snaps up at the sudden noise.

“What? I can hear you, calm down.” You tell her, pushing yourself off the car door.

“Vanya and Leonard Peabody were just here this morning. They were here, when we were at the cabin, they must have come back. We gotta go.” She hurriedly rambles, taking the keys out of your hand and opening up the drivers side. 

“Well shit.” You run around to the passengers seat, hoping in quickly, as Allison takes off towards the cabin.

The drive is thankfully short, but by now the suns beginning to set as a new darkness starts to engulf the land. It’s beautiful and calming to feel the night air and listen to the wind sway the pines back and forth. But you have no time to fully enjoy it, to worried and on guard for what you and Allison might run into.

“What the hell. Why’s it so windy all of a sudden.” You say aloud, shutting the car door and turning to walk up the gravel driveway. “Yeah, this is definitely odd.” Mutters Allison, equally as puzzled.

As you both reach the porch, the sound of Vanya’s violin wafts its way out and into the quiet night air. It’s beautiful, with the exception of all the lights and other porch furniture that’s swaying to the wind, er music. You’re not completely sure what’s going on. “Vanya? Is that you?” Shouts Allison as she looks into a window, quickly walking up to the door and opening it. No regard for safety, come on Allison we talked about this, you think to yourself as you follow her into the windy cabin. “Vanya, there you are. What is going on?” Allison half yells, bringing Vanya’s attention to the two of you. “Hey V.” You wave at her awkwardly, as she stops playing her violin.

“What are you two doing here?” She questions, trying to figure out how you would have found her, and most importantly why?

“We came to find you. Are you okay?” Allison worries. “Yeah.” Vanya says with a small but confused smile.

“Vans, you wouldn’t happen to know what’s causing all the spooky ghost wind? Now would you?” You question her, giving the room a short look around.

“Me.”

Allison walks in closer, “What do you mean, me?” She asks, confusion clear on her features. You furrow your brows, puzzled as well. “I mean....I made those things happen. With my powers. Turns out I’ve had them all this time. It’s weird, huh?” Vanya tells the both of you, her voice holding a tinge of resentment.

“It’s in..it’s incredible.” Allison gasps, shocked and amazed at this new information.

Vanya’s face falls, “But?”

“Can we just leave now. We’ll all have a nice lovely conversation about it in the car.” You rush, feeling the tension in the room starting to increase, as you attempt to get things rolling.

“Why?” Wonders Vanya. Allison glances down for a moment, sighing softly, “You’re not gonna want to hear it.” She warns, oh right, we gotta tell Vanya about her psychotic boyfriend. That’s gonna go well.

“Well, that’s never stopped you before.” She adds dryly, ouch. But well deserved.

“Leonard Peabody? His real name is Harold Jenkins.” Allison pauses for a moment, letting the information sink into Vanya, “Remember when I couldn’t find anything in the library on Leonard? It’s because Leonard Peabody doesn’t exist. Harold Jenkins does.” She explains, Vanya listens in silence, not sure what to believe anymore.

“She’s right. He was in prison for 12 years. The sick fuck murdered his father when he was 13...his pops might have had it coming..but still.” You tell her, further backing up Allison’s facts.

“This is...insane. His dad was an engineer at the..” Allison cuts her off, “I have the police report in the car, Vanya. I can show you.”

“I don’t...I don’t understand.” Vanya says shaking her head, not believing in these obscene facts. You walk closer to Allison, who’s standing a couple feet away from Vanya. “Leonard, Harold, Yeah man. It doesn’t make a lot of sense, and it sounds crazy. But we were in his house, this wack-job has pictures of us with our eyes gouged out.” You urge, trying to help her understand. Her brows furrow in agitated bewilderment, “Wh..What?” She starts as Allison quickly interrupts her, “I promise I will tell you everything in the car, but it is not safe.” Rushes Allison worriedly as she grabs Vanya’s arm, pulling her a couple feet towards the door. “No, stop.” Objects Vanya, sitting down in a rocking chair, Allison falling to her knees in front of her. “Look, um...I can’t imagine how hard it is for you to hear this...how you feel right now, but I..I love you, and I just...I wanna be here for you, as your sister.” Pleads Allison, desperately trying to get Vanya moving and away from this place. You stand back, folding your arms in concern, you can feel a heavy uneasiness crawling over the room.

“There’s just no way. I love him. This just doesn’t make any sense. And this power...I don’t know. I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t know what to do.” Mutters Vanya, her face washing over in troubled distress, overwhelmed by everything that’s happening.

“Now I understand.” Whispers Allison, apparently remembering a long forgotten memory, “When we were four. Dad told us you were sick. You had to be isolated. We were so young. None of us knew to question it. But then he asked me to do something I never understood...until now. He made me an accomplice.” Explains Allison shamefully, bowing her head down in disgust for what she did. You watch Vanya’s shocked face, you had no idea any of this happened. And clearly neither did she.

 “You did this to me?” Whispers Vanya.

“I...I didn’t realize.”

“You knew this whole time? That I had powers!” Shouts Vanya, getting up off the rocking chair in a fury. “No, no! I didn’t understand until we came today, until I saw it.” Pleads Allison standing up as well. You just stand back and continue to watch the shit-show, damn, this family continues to surprise you to no end.

“Well, now it all makes sense. This is why you never wanted me around.” She cries, anger and sadness fueling her.

 “What? No!”

“You couldn’t risk me threatening your place in the house, your...your dominance.” Vanya continues, her temper rising by the minute. “That is not true.” Adds Allison, Vanya screaming back, “You couldn’t handle the fact that Dad might find me special.”

“You are special, with or without powers.” Snaps Allison desperately. 

“Don’t...Don’t say that!” Screams Vanya, her face a mask of hurt and anger. “We have a chance to start over.” Allison tells her calmly, Vanya not buying into anything, “You destroyed my life!” She yells. You throw your hands up to your hypersensitive ears, not being able to stand the shouting anymore.

“Oh, come on Vanya. Everything is out in the open. We can move on.” Begs Allison getting frustrated. Vanya shakes her head, “Oh, I’m moving on. But not with you, or Y/N, with Leonard.” She snaps, you interject for the first time, “With Harold, the crazy bastard remember.” She ignores you, screaming back, “With Leonard! The only person who has ever loved me for me!” Allison stands back, lightly chuckling at the ridiculous thought of this random psychopath loving anyone. “Look me in the eye and tell me you’re not threatened now.” Says Vanya calmly, you look around you as the wind begins to pick up in the cabin once again, shit.

“I don’t wanna argue with you.” Begins Allison, Vanya vocalizing her rage, “Then go! I don’t want your help!” She wails, you cover your sensitive ears tighter.

“Vanya, I love you!” Allison cries, begging her to listen.

“Stop saying that!” Screams Vanya, even louder then before. Allison’s face scrunches up in confusion as she looks around the windy room, “Are you okay?”

“I said go!” A second later the lights above Allison shatter, raining down glass into your hair and hers. “Please don’t make me do this.” Begs Allison, at her whits end, and out of ideas on what to do about Vanya’s growing outrage. You take a step back, your legs hitting the front of the couch, afraid of what she’s about to do next, “I heard a rumor..” Allison begrudgingly starts, without warning Vanya reacts with lighting speed, you watch on in horror as Vanya whips her violin string across Allison’s vulnerable throat. Slitting it in one clean motion, your eyes shoot over to a shocked Allison, then deep red blood begins pooling out of her neck. Her eyes go wide as she raises her hands to stop the bleeding, you and Vanya race over to her as she begins to fall to the carpeted floor. “Allison!” Screams Vanya, terrified at what she had just done. “I didn’t mean to...I didn’t....I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” She cries, glancing at you then back to Allison as hot tears begin streaming down her face. You listen to the strained gasps coming from Allison, as you rip off the bottom of your shirt and place it firmly where the injury is, doing your best to stop the bleeding. While Vanya’s hyperventilating next to you, you can hear Leonard urging her to get up and follow him out the door. He rushes over, grabbing her arm roughly and pulling her away, you snap out of your trance of saving Allison’s life.

Racing after them, Leonard shoves a hysterical Vanya out the door, before he whips around to face you, who’s staring daggers at him from the doorway.

“The Olympian. It’s an honor to finally meet you.” He says with an agitating grin as you sneer at him.

“Well, I wouldn’t stay to excited about it for much longer.” You snap, he chuckles at that while taking a step back.

In an instant you lunge at him, pushing him ferociously into the porch railing, the boards snap as they catch his weight. He staggers to his feet, wiping a smear of blood from his mouth and letting out a ragged cough while giving you a sly smile as he goes to picks up Vanya, “You won’t be able to move for quit awhile. And that’s all we need.” He tells you mysteriously, turning away and hastily limping down the steps, hand in hand with Vanya. You snap out of your daze, going to take a step to finish the job when your stomach has the most intensely jarring sharp pain, practically screaming at you to stop. You look down, this fucker stabbed you with a Swiss Army knife. “Goddammit.” You groan, grabbing its hilt and pulling it painfully out of you. Some blood squirts out and drips onto the wooden floor. You grimace, lifting the bloody blade up to your nose, you take a small sniff. “Oh fuck.” You deadpan, he coated the blade with some type of poison. You’re not sure what from, but you can tell its been tampered with, this dick knew what the fuck he was about, damn he must really hate the Umbrella Academy.

Knowing you probably only have a couple minutes left before the toxins fully reach into your system. You drop the knife, stumbling over to a barely conscious Allison. You fall to the floor, grabbing the arm of the couch with your left hand. Your whole body feels sick and you start to sweat heavily, you’re not sure if you’re about to vomit or not. Luckily it passes, replaced by an intense agonizing pain stabbing at your stomach, at least you can still breath. You crawl to Allison’s legs, leaning yourself against the couch, fighting to keep yourself awake, you have to stay awake, you have to fight through the poison that’s desperately trying to kill you. But everything feels so fuzzy and you can hear your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. It’s deafening. Nonetheless you crawl forward, reaching your right hand up to press gently onto her bleeding wound. 

You don’t know how long you’ve been slumped on the floor in agony, straining to keep your eyes open as bloody drool seeps out from the side of your mouth. But you could have swore you just heard the sound of car doors slamming shut. A moment later the screen door bursts open, Luther entering first, followed by Klaus, Five, and Diego. Luther races over to Allison’s left side, since your slowly dying on her right. Klaus kneels down in front of you, lifting your head up, it’s so hard to move, your body feels like it’s on fire and tied down by a thousand ship anchors.

“Y/N, what happened? What’s wrong with you?” Pleads Klaus breathlessly, terrified that you’re not healing right away. It’s how poison works, it won’t kill you, but damn will it keep you awake in a half dying state until the affects wear off.

Diego suddenly materializes from up above you, your vision is so blurry, you could barely tell it’s him. You can’t clearly make out a single comprehensible word from either of them. But a minute later you can feel yourself being lifted, and carefully carried out the door and down the steps. Where you’re then put into a car, your head and shoulder is leaning against something soft and warm. Presumably Diego or Klaus but you can’t tell anymore. Then the vehicle begins to move, the dull rumbling of the engine, forcing you into a half-conscious state. You don’t remember the ride home.

[scribbles97]

Crushed - Part 2

PART 1

I'm not so mean as to leave Gordon and Lucy aboard Thurnderbird Two without at least making SOMETHING a little bit better.

It had been a week.

Such a long week.

So many surgeries to fix shattered and broken bones, to relieve pressure in both his head and on his spine.

Lucy hadn’t left him except to wash and check in with the rest of the world. It seemed cruel that nothing else stopped when her son that was so full of energy had.

He had said nothing since the revelation of spinal damage aboard Thunderbird Two, since his whispered confession that he hadn’t been able to feel his legs. He had slipped back into sleep and hadn’t woken since.

It was all her fault.

She had sent him out there.

The others insisted that Gordon would have gone regardless, that it wasn’t her fault and once he was awake Gordon would no doubt agree to that fact.

For all she knew they were right, it still hurt.

Hurt to know that Gaat had tricked her so many times. Hurt to know that she had triggered the chain of events that led to that precise moment. Hurt to be able to do nothing except watch her battered and bruised boy and hope that he would wake up.

The doctors were optimistic at least. Apparently time was all he needed, a chance for his body to reset and start the arduous task of healing itself.

Gordon had always hated reading, but adored being read to. It had been the only way to get him to sleep as a toddler, sat in her lap on the bed with a book about something to do with the ocean.

His beloved ocean.

That he himself had written about. His first research paper, published just months before, followed closely by the first in a series of children's books she knew he had planned.

“You always did complain about the lack of ocean books when you were a kid.” She smiled to herself, thumbing the well worn pages of the original copy.

She didn’t expect the whimper in response, the gasped breath as eyes scrunched up.

“Gordy?” She frowned, standing from her seat to lean over him, “Hey, you awake kid?”

A muted groan as her fingers found his and got a squeeze in response.

“Hey,” She smiled, swallowing the lump in her throat as she brushed fingers over the bandages that covered his hair, “You’re okay Gordy. Can you open your eyes for me?”

He hummed softly in response, eyes staying scrunched as he swallowed, hand tightening around hers as he did.

“What hurts?” She prompted, “Shall I get a doc--”

“No.”

Frowning at him, she sighed. It was the first clear thing he had said, but the word had been so full of pain it felt wrong to do as he asked.

“Don’ wanna sleep ‘ny more.”

She was ready to argue a point when amber eyes blinked sleepily open, hazed with drugs as he struggled to focus.

Any argument died on her lips. He was awake.

“Did you get--” Eyes glanced around the room, looking for something Lucy was sure he wouldn’t find.

“In my sash.” He looked back to her, “The chip, Mom, you gotta--”

“Woah,” She caught him gently by the shoulder as he tried to sit up, “Your baldric is at home. It’s okay.”

His hand caught her wrist as he lay back, amber pleading as he watched her.

“I’ll get Virgil to bring it when he comes later. Okay?” She bargained, “Son you need to rest.”

The sigh was heavy from his lips, and she didn’t miss the wince as he did, the hand that had held her wrist going to his ribs.

“We were bein’ crushed,” He whispered, eyes drooping to rest closed again.

She knew what had happened, they had recovered Four and salvaged the camera feeds. She had seen every moment of his ordeal, both in and outside of the cockpit.

It turned her stomach to just think about it.

“Di’n’ think I was gonna get out.”

She didn’t have the heart to tell him that he hadn’t.

“How did I get ou’ Mom?” He frowned, eyes flicking back up to her, the intense amber dark and heavy.

Lucy didn’t have an answer, it wasn’t time for him to know that he hadn’t gotten out and had faced a very real possibility of running out of air before anyone got to him. There was hardly any better answer for him though, when he was quite as bruised and broken as he was no story was quite believable.

“I though’ it was an angel.” He murmured softly, eyes settling shut as a gentle smile spread across his features, “Came an’ got me.”

She smiled as she carded her fingers through his hair sticking out through the bandages, hoping it was enough to soothe him into the sleep he so desperately needed. By so many standards, yes, Penelope was an angel.

That she had stayed afterwards, hovered and waited for any news, had spoken volumes. The flirting perhaps wasn’t quite so meaningless as Lucy had first thought. Maybe, just maybe, the Lady was as interested as Gordon was.

Val was right, they would make a cute couple.

“Dream of angels,” She murmured as Gordon’s face slackened back to the soft set of sleep, “Sleep well kiddo.”

Not that she planned on leaving, she couldn’t even bring herself to let go of his arm.

“Mrs Tracy,” A soft voice broke into her thoughts as she watched the slight rise and fall of his chest.

Lucy straightened, smiling slightly at Gordon’s ‘angel’ as she slipped into the room. Blue eyes looked past her to the boy in the bed, fear and concern filling them as delicate hands tightened on themselves.

“How is he?”

“He woke up.” She admitted with a smile, “You just missed him.”

The way Penelope’s shoulders fell at the news only confirmed what Lucy had thought.

Recovering herself, Penelope nodded, “He’s a fighter and a Tracy. I do not doubt that he will recover.”

Swallowing, Lucy looked back to her, “I never got a chance to thank you, Penelope.”

The younger woman shook her head as she stepped further into the room, “Nonsense Mrs Tracy, it is simply fortunate that we were in the area. I’m just glad we were available.”

“Regardless,” Lucy held her gaze, hoping she could put across her true meaning, “You saved him, for that I will be forever in your debt.”

“Is that not what International Rescue is all about?” Penelope smiled.

Caught out, Lucy could only nod slightly in agreement as she looked back to her son. It seemed that too often in the last few years it was her family that were the ones needing saving.

Penelope sighed as she hovered at the end of the bed, “I came by, as Kyrano wished to see you. I wondered if maybe I could stay here while you spoke to him?”

For all Lucy didn’t want to leave, she knew she needed to speak to Kyrano. Gaat had done this to her boy.

If Penelope stayed, he would be in capable hands.

“Yes,” She nodded as she stood, “but call me if anything changes.”

Her smile was soft as the Lady nodded, “Of course Mrs Tracy.”

Lucy shook her head as she passed the slighter woman, “Call me Lucy.”