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florencemtrash · 1 year

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Hummingbird: Chapter Two

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

What if the Earth-1610 (Miles’s universe) version of Miguel’s wife was actually Miles’s AP Art teacher?

Masterlist

Miguel grumbled, furiously trying to rub away the oncoming headache as the newly updated Spider-Gang continued to berate him. Jessica only leaned forward on her motorcycle, smirking at the sight of his towering figure surrounded by teenagers.

Gwen prodded him with a pointed finger, “What the hell, Miguel! I can’t believe you-”

“We trusted you and-”

“So what now you’re just on our side like some-”

Miles’s palms sparked threateningly, “You were going to let my Dad die!”

“Hold the baby, Migs.” Peter tried in vain to shove a babbling Mayday into his hands, “She’s going to make you feel so much better.”

“You and I are gonna have some serious fisticuffs you turtle-”

“You let the power get to your head like some capitalistic-”

Peni’s robot chittered angrily.

“Ok, ok, OK!” Miguel yelled, “Everyone just QUIET!” Turning on his heels so that his broad shoulders blocked out the skyline, he began to mutter, “Dios mío. ¿Qué estoy haciendo? Estos niños me van a matar. Mierda.” He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the words that were about to leave his mouth.

“I messed up.” he murmured under his breath.

Hobie propped himself up against his guitar, “Sorry bruv, don’t think I heard you ri-”

“I MESSED UP!” Miguel shouted, throwing his hands up in his air. Everyone except Hobie and Miles took a step back. This was the closest thing to an apology any of them could hope to get, and far more than they were expecting to hear from him. “Now in case you’ve forgotten, we still have an imminent multiversal collapse on our hands!”

“Very imminent,” Lyla said, floating on her back and propping her holographic feet up on Miguel’s shoulder.

Miles stepped forward in the silence, all eyes on him.

He still had to tilt his head up to meet Miguel’s eyes, but he didn’t feel small. No. He wasn’t small. He wasn’t weak. He was Spider-Man, and together they were going to fix this.

“I still don’t like you but,” he stuck out his hand, “Welcome to the Spider-Gang, Miguel.”

>>>

“Lyla, take a scan of the-” Gwen spun out of a wormhole, crashing into his side.

“Sorry!” A web shot out of her wrist, pulling her towards the skylight as Miles flipped across the room in a red and black blur.

“Spot, please!” Miles’s voice bounced around the room, sound waves rippling out from a hundred spots at once, “You don’t have to do this.”

Lyla flickered to life on Miguel’s shoulder, a holographic lollipop sticking out the corner of her mouth, “I’m on it!”

Miguel caught himself on the wall, blades screeching on metal as a dozen more spots popped into existence around him. Rain pelted him from all sides, distracting him long enough for the hub of a cop car to fly out and flatten him against the wall.

The Spot dipped in and out of the ground, basking in the remnants of the Super-Collider and swallowing up bits and pieces of metal and granite in the process. Wormholes had already started to crop up all around New York, threatening the destruction of buildings as cars and trains suddenly found themselves hundreds of feet above the ground.

“It’s a proper mess out here mates,” Hobie’s voice called out from Miguel’s watch, followed by the shattering of glass, “How much longer is this going to take?”

“I just need fifteen more minutes,” Margo said. A crash sounded in the background along with Jessica’s colorful words, “... maybe twenty.”

“We don’t have twenty minutes,” Miguel grunted, flinging his body across the room. He strung his webs around a battered console, whipping it around and aiming it directly at the Spot. He only chuckled, lifting his hand and opening a portal. The console smashed into Miguel’s back, sending him crashing to the ground.

Lyla pulled the lollipop out of her mouth with an audible pop! “Scan of the room’s complete. You’re in luck! You’ve got about 17 minutes before the structural integrity of the building goes kaput, starting with the northwest corner.” Her finger glitched as she pointed.

Joder.

“Guys no. I can do this.” Miles said, his voice tight with effort as he continued to jump around the room, whipping metal at the Spot to distract him long enough to swing to safety. He could make the Spot see reason. He had to.

Margo and Jessica scrambled about the control room three stories up, Margo’s virtual reality body glitching from anxiety as she threaded wires together and fumbled around on the computers in the control room. This dimension’s technology was ancient compared to hers and she was finding it hard to make the adjustment.

“You really think that would work?” She asked Miles. They all stood side by side atop Alchemax, staring down into the remnants of the Super-Collider where the Spot floated around aimlessly in a pool of black ether. Every so often Margo was certain she could see visions of other dimensions poking through the fabric of spacetime - A baseball game, an explosion, a thousand ships cruising past a desert planet.

“He got his powers using the Super Collider,” Miles reasoned, “Absorbed dark matter energy from countless universes. Reverse the process and we might be able to send it all back to their original dimensions.”

“Leaving him powerless.” Hobie finished, shoving his hands into his jacket and nodding, “I like it.”

“It’ll be a large scale Go-Home-Machine.” Margo murmured, nodding in understanding as the plan fell into place.

“But you gotta let me talk to him first.” Miles narrowed a pointed glare at Miguel. “Let me make him see reason. End this before it even begins.”

“Are you joking? That’s too risky.” Miguel growled out.

“This could kill him!”

“Oh come on, Miguel, give Miles a chance!” Pavitr had to balance on the tip of his toes to sling an arm around Miguel’s shoulders. “He’s Spider-Man! This will be easy for him! Use that charm and compassion and-”

“Fine.” Miguel said, shrugging Pavitr off, “We’ll try it your way.”

The Spot walked forward menacingly, noting with pride how Miles backed away, hands lifted up in front of him, “So now you want to talk?”

“Listen, Jonathan - it’s Jonathan, right? - We don’t have to do this. I’m sorry I made fun of you before. I’m sorry that I disregarded you after everything you’ve been through. But you have to understand what you’re doing. This is going to destroy everything. Everything. The universe, the multiverse, all of it. You’ve got the power to-”

“There’s no Jonathan anymore, only the Spot. You still think I’m joking don’t you? You still think we’re going to make up after a grand old speech - that you’re going to save me. Well it’s too late for that, kid.”

He lifted his hand and snapped his fingers, a portal opening to his left. Someone tumbled out wearing a paint stained Brooklyn Visions Academy sweatshirt.

Miguel’s heart stopped beating.

He would recognize you anywhere - in any universe.

“Y/n?” he breathed out.

“Let’s see how good you really are, Spider-Man.” He snapped his fingers again and a portal opened up beneath your feet. The last thing you heard was the Spot's laughter as you began to fall from the sky.

“NO!” Miguel sprang into action, red laser webs flinging out to the walls as he threw himself into the air.

“Nuh uh.” The Spot shook his finger, throwing a spot at Miguel and portaling him away, “No help! That’s cheating.”

Miles sprinted up the walls, tracking the small dot of your figure as you flailed about wildly more than two hundred feet up, desperately trying to straighten your arms and slow your fall. The wind carried your screams away.

He dove towards a spot, arms and legs tucked in straight as an arrow after seeing your sprawling form fall past the wormhole, and re-emerged just above you. With a quick flick of the wrist he caught you, throwing out webs wildly towards the neighboring buildings in a desperate bid to slow your fall. The strands held on for as long as they could, slowing your descent before finally snapping from the tension.

“Hold on!” He yelled over the wind as the last web broke. The voice sounded familiar.

You both hurtled through the skeleton of a window before landing and rolling onto the floor of the one of Alchemax lab rooms, the faint smell of chlorine and formaldehyde still clinging to the air.

You pushed yourself onto your knees, prepared to kiss the solid ground beneath you.

“Miss Y/l/n?!” Miles’s jaw dropped, eyes as round as dinner plates.

You perked your head up, momentarily forgetting your near death experience.

“Miles?!”

“Oh crap,” he cleared his throat, dropping his voice an octave, “Um, who’s Miles?”

“What the hell are you doing here? Do your parents know about this? Is this why you’ve been skipping classes? Who let you do this without adult supervision?!” You grabbed him by the shoulder, shaking him. He was just a teenager for fuck’s sake!

“Listen, Miss Y/l/n-” Maybe it was because he was so used to unloading his thoughts in front of you that he launched into a half-baked explanation of everything that had happened, “I got bitten by a radioactive spider-” “I met all these Spiderpeople-” “-and he tried to stop me from saving my dad and-”

Your head was spinning.

“Oh Spidermaaannnnn!” The Spot called out in a sing-song voice. “Where are you hiding, you little insect?” “I gotta go, just-” he held his hands out, “just stay here for now. Don’t move!” And just like that he was gone, leaving you more confused than ever before.

I don’t get paid enough for this. You thought, standing alone amidst the rubble.

Miguel tore through the rooms, sprinting like a madman. The reverse Super Collider was finally up and running and it was only a matter of time before the Spot would realize their plan and go berserk. The ground beneath him shook and groaned in protest as the building’s foundations began to crumble into nothing, eaten away by the dark matter that spilled out of the Spot.

“Y/N!” he roared, kicking down a door so hard it blew off its hinges.

You hopped off the bench. It seemed silly, but as a civilian caught in the middle of a multiverse-ending battle there hadn’t been anything for you to do but sit and wait for Miles to come back.

A Spider-Man variant barreled towards you, all hard cut lines of red and blue with blades protruding to his forearms that glinted in the dim light. You hadn’t made a decision about whether or not to run - whether or not it was even worth it to try - before he had you wrapped up in his arms, burying his face in your shoulder. The mask fell away like tv static to reveal a head of brown waves that smelled faintly of oranges.

“Dios mío, pensé que te perdí.” He murmured, holding you like his life depended on it.

You stiffened under his touch before awkwardly raising a hand to pat his back. “Umm, hola. ¿Te conozco?”

Miguel froze, feeling the tension in your body. You didn’t… you didn’t know who he was. He’d just… he’d been so terrified that he’d forgotten himself - the situation they were all in.

He took a step back, spine ram-rod straight as he suppressed the urge to hold you again. This version of you looked… different. Different, but the same. You were missing the faint scar on your temple you’d gotten from a car crash at seventeen.

“We need to go.” he said, voice tight as he gestured to his back, “Get on and hold on tight. This building’s about to blow.”

You blinked at the sudden change in his tone, taking a moment to process what he’d just asked you.

“You know Spider-Man?”

“Unfortunately, yes.” He said, clenching his jaw. If you didn’t jump on his back in the next ten seconds he was going to chuck you over his shoulder and start running.

The floor beneath you shifted, the building’s dying breaths echoing through the halls.

Hesitantly you climbed onto his back, wrapping your legs tightly around his waist as he started sprinting towards the broken window.

“Si me dejas caer, nunca te perdonaré,” you said, lips accidentally brushing against the curve of his ear.

He shivered. “Jamás.”

You were airborne again, feeling Miguel’s body twist and flex beneath you as he pulled you both towards the ceiling like it was as natural as breathing. When you dared to look towards the ground you gasped. The tangled frame of the Super Collider was whirring to life, crackling with energy and exploding with color as Miles spun his webs, keeping the machine together even as it threatened to rip itself apart.

From within the cocoon of webs, dark matter, and multiversal energy, you could make out the Spot’s form warping and pulling apart, bits and pieces disappearing into the frenetic portal that the collider had split open.

Miles caught up to you both, matching Miguel’s rhythm as they flicked and swung from their webs.

“Hey again, Miss Y/l/n.” Flick. “I see you’ve met Miguel.” Flick. “I hope he hasn’t been too mean towards you.” He called out.

You felt Miguel grumble with displeasure.

“He’s the guy that body slammed me into a moving train!” Flick. “But I beat him!”

“Miguel did WHAT?!”

“Right, Miss Y/l/n?”

“Listen kid, I already apologized for that.”

“Yeah right.” Miles had to laugh. The day he heard Miguel say the words “I’m sorry” would be the day the multiverse tore apart, and that day was not today.

You slapped Miguel on the shoulder - it was like hitting stone, “¿Qué coño te pasa? He’s just a teenager!”

“Cariño, can we please discuss this at a later time?” He gritted his teeth. Something was wrong with the collider. It was getting harder and harder to swing you both upwards, like the force of gravity had tripled.

You froze. “What did you just call me?”

Crap.

Miles’s eyes swung back and forth between you two like a pinball machine and the dots finally connected - the alternate universe where Miguel had a family, the way he kept looking at you, the way he’d demanded Miles tell him where you were.

“...Aren’t you his wife?” He asked dumbly.

Miguel’s face went white beneath his mask. Did the temperature go up, or was that just him? His hands felt clammy under his spider-suit.

“I’M HIS WIFE?!”

The collider screeched beneath them and Miguel barely had time to flick his web out towards the remnant of a walkway before -

One.

Two.

Three.

BOOM!

The Spot burst out from the cocoon in a tornado of dark matter, sending debris flying backward towards the sucking mouth of the collider. The building walls buckled, drywall ripping out and sailing downward at the whim of the collider’s gravitational force.

“Spider-Man!” He bellowed, his voice grating and animalistic, “I’M GOING TO DESTROY YOU!”

He might get torn apart and sent to a thousand different dimensions, but if he was going down, he was going to take Spider-Man with him.

“Get her out of here!” Miles yelled over the deafening roar. He pressed his body flat to the wall to keep from falling down into the collider.

“I can’t!” Miguel groaned. His hands had begun to slip down the bright red webbing. You were beginning to lose your grip as well, nails clawing into Miguel’s back.

Your legs gave way first, then your arms.

“Y/N!” Miguel flicked a laser web out, catching you by your waist.

“MISS Y/L/N!”

You gasped, arms and legs splayed out to your sides as you dangled precariously over nothing. Miguel stared down at you, shoulder screaming in pain as he did everything he could to keep you both from getting sucked down. His mask disappeared, letting you see the way his red-brown eyes were blown open. Somewhere from below Miguel heard the Spot scream as he was finally torn to shreds, dark matter traveling back to their respective dimensions, but all he could focus on was you.

“Miguel,” you whispered, too scared to say anything else.

“Miguel?” You called out from the bottom of the stairs.

Gabriella dribbled the football close, just like her father had taught her, before passing it cleanly between your legs.

“¡Túnel!”

“¡Y la multitud se vuelve loca!” Miguel whooped, thundering down the stairs and twirling a screaming Gabriella through the air.

You fixed the collar of his sweater, kissing him hesitantly on the lips and smiling at the brightness in his eyes as he held your daughter.

“I’ll see you at the game later,” You said, smoothing back a strand of your husband’s hair, “I love you.” You murmured, hoping to hear him say it back. It had been so long since he’d said those words to you.

“I’ll see you later.” Miguel promised, kissing you again with a smile so wide you felt his teeth against your lips.

You knew something wasn’t quite right… he knew you knew… but neither of you could find the words to say anything about it.

What’s happened? Why have you changed so much so quickly? Why don’t you remember things about me - about Gabriella - anymore?

You wanted to ask those questions so badly.

But you didn’t ask, and he didn’t answer.

So he left without saying those words… and that was the day he lost you.

He wouldn’t lose you again. He wouldn’t lose you like he’d lost Gabriella.

With a roar he pulled you back to him, wrapping one arm tightly around you. You molded yourself into his side, shutting your eyes just in time for the collider to groan to a halt and then explode.

The noise alone knocked you both back, sound waves rattling your bones and pressing you further against Miguel. Golden light emitted from the collapsing collider, sinking into your skin until it felt like you were burning.

The laser web burned away and Miguel could do nothing more than wrap his body around you as you were both thrown up and through what remained of the roof. You landed on hard pressed glass, pain shooting up your side as you and Miguel tumbled in a flurry of tangled limbs. You rolled to a stop, Miguel bracing his arms so that you wouldn’t get crushed under his bulky frame. His suit glitched, unstable molecules traveling over his skin as it worked to repair any and all damage.

The collider stilled, light dimming as it sighed and breathed its last.

“Are you ok? Are you hurt?” He brushed your hair back, frantically scanning your body for injuries as you caught your breath.

“I’m ok.” You gasped out, “I’m ok,” You promised, resting your hands against his chest. He felt solid and real beneath your fingertips - the most real thing you’d experienced this entire night.

Miguel sighed in relief, pressing his forehead against yours and closing his eyes. You closed yours too, letting yourself enjoy this delicate moment of peace and quiet.

“Woooow, you can really feel the romantic tension between the two of them, can’t you?”

“Shut up, Pavitr.” Gwen hissed.

Miguel’s eyes snapped open, suddenly aware of the audience of Spiderpeople that had congregated on the roof. It was at times like this that he envied the others for their spider-sense.

He rolled lightly onto his feet, pulling you up with him and keeping one arm loosely wrapped around your waist. You found that you didn’t mind the contact at all.

Sirens blared from every street corner, the flashing red, white, and blue lights of firefighters, policemen, and EMS overwhelming to the eye.

Someone was missing.

“Where’s Miles?!” You said, your heart leaping into your throat.

As if on cue he swung up through the hole in the roof, landing with a wince of pain as his right knee buckled under his weight. Patches of his singed suit were still smoking.

“Are you guys ok? I oof-'' Gwen tackled him in a hug, ripping off her mask in the process. You recognized her immediately from Miles’s drawings, but her hair was longer - wilder - than in the pictures.

“Miles,” her breath stuttered, “Oh my god, I-I thought-”

He shushed her, rubbing her back as she helped hold him up on his injured leg.

“Hey it’s ok. It’s all good. I’m alright.”

“Aight’ bruv!” Hobie and Pavitr whooped, clapping Miles’s back.

You wrapped your arms tightly around yourself as the others circled around Miles. Only Miguel stayed close, watching you out of the corner of his eye.

Had you actually just experienced all of that? Had you lost your mind?

“Miss Y/l/n!” Miles noticed you shivering in the cold in your socks and pajamas. He tugged off his ruined mask, exposing the bruise that was beginning to blossom like a purple flower around his nose, “Are you alright?”

You blinked. Were you alright? You weren’t dead or seriously injured as far as you could tell.

It is taking all my willpower not to pass out or vomit right now - was what you were thinking.

“I’ve been better,” you answered, uncrossing your arms. You took a deep, stabilizing breath and squared your shoulders. It was bad enough that you’d spent the majority of the evening flung around like a rag doll in front of your favorite student, but to do it in your pajamas? That was just embarrassing.

“Miles, please tell me you haven’t been running around New York alone with no adult supervision fighting crime this past year.”

He chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his heck. It was like being reprimanded by his own mother, “I mean… I wasn’t always doing it alone.”

“Yeah! And he had adult supervision - at least for the beginning part of it,” you turned towards the sandy-haired Spider-Man in the pink bathrobe and matching slippers, “I was his mentor and I think I did a pretty good job, wouldn’t you say?” He punched Miles proudly on the arm.

You gawked at him. “Is that… is that a baby strapped to your chest?”

The baby in question babbled with happiness, chubby fingers reaching out for you.

Peter grinned, plucking the little girl out from her carrier and mussing up her wild, red curls. “This is Mayday. She’s a wonder isn’t she?”

He thrust May into your baffled arms where she proceeded to wriggle around like a worm on a hook.

“You-you brought a baby to a superhero fight?”

“Sure did! And she did fantastically. Photo time!” He snapped a picture with you and May, adding as a caption “Mayday’s first time saving the multiverse.” “This is going in the scrapbook for sure.”

“I think… I think I need to go home now.” You said once Mayday was safely crawling around her father’s chest again.

“We should all get out of here.” Miguel said, noting the cop cars beginning to crowd around the perimeter. “Lyla?”

An orange holographic woman popped to life, hovering in the air between you and Miguel. “You called?”

You jolted back. Lyla fluttered her fingers in a wave.

“Is it over?” he asked wearily.

“Hmmmmm,” she flitted around the air, checking holographic screens and typing away on a computer, “Multiverse is holding steady and there’s no sign of the Spot anywhere.”

“And the super collider?”

Lyla made a poof sound, opening her hands and wiggling her fingers, “Destroyed. No anomalies detected.”

“Great.” Miguel, tilting his head back and breathing deeply. Lyla blinked out of existence.

A very pregnant Spiderwoman fiddled around with her watch, opening a portal behind her and her motorbike with only a few quick taps.

Damn, is everyone having kids these days except me? The thought came forth from your muddled brain.

“Let’s get back to HQ everyone. I want full debriefs recorded and uploaded in the next hour.”

A chorus of protests and half-veiled insults rose up.

A tall, spindly Spider-Man, dressed like a 1920s silent film detective, tipped his hat towards you before calmly adjusting the lapels of his grey coat and stepping into the portal. He was followed by a petite Asian girl driving a robot, and… a pig? You had to blink at that one.

“I hear you teach art.” Hobie said, swinging his guitar onto his back, “That’s ace. Try this out and let me know what you think, yeah?” He tossed you a haphazardly folded zine. The cover screamed out in newsprint letters: THE DECAY OF SOCIETY IN THE FACE OF COMMERCIALIZED ART-MAKING.

“See you around,” he gave a two-fingered salute and stepped back through the portal.

You immediately felt Miguel’s absence when he brushed past you towards Miles and Gwen. He sized up the two teenagers, grabbed Miles’s wrist, and dropped a watch into his open palm.

“Gwen will teach you how to use it. Don’t make any dumb decisions.”

“Me?” Miles snorted, “Pfffft. Never.”

Miguel hesitated before saying, “I’ll see you around… Spider-Man.”

He was just about to step through the portal himself when you called out his name, voice cracking. He closed his eyes, back tense.

He didn’t want to turn around. He wanted you to ignore him and let him leave without saying goodbye because… because if he saw you again that just might ruin him. Here was another version of you - another family - that would never be his.

But when you called his name again - this time with more force - he couldn’t deny you. He turned around and stared into your eyes - the eyes of his wife… the eyes of a stranger.

He never had the chance to live a full life with that other version of you. He hadn’t been the one to take you out on the first date, he hadn’t been the one to kiss you at the altar, he hadn’t been there when Gabriella was born. No. All those memories and experiences belonged to someone else, some other version of him that he could never be. But when he looked at you he imagined for one brief moment what it would be like to try it all over again, to be a real husband to you… to be there for you from the start.

“Thank you,” you said, “For saving my life.”

His lips tightened into a thin, almost angry line, but whether he was angry at you or himself you couldn’t tell. He gave a curt nod, stepped into his dimension, and let the portal close in front of you.

When Gwen and Miles dropped you off at your apartment, the first words out of his mouth were, “Please don’t tell my mom and dad.”

His phone weighed like a stone in his pocket, filled to the brim with frantic text messages and missed phone calls from Rio and Jefferson.

“Miles… this isn’t-this isn’t safe for you to do. I mean you’re just a teenager.”

“I’m not just a teenager.”

“Do you even have a driver’s license yet?” Miles shut his mouth, thinking over his next words carefully.

“Miss Y/l/n, this world needs Spider-Man. You know it needs Spider-Man, And I’m this universe’s Spider-Man. Me. I can’t just let that go.”

You muttered under your breath. Were you really going to encourage a fifteen year old’s vigilantism? You pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed, hating that he was right. The answer was yes - you really were going to encourage your student to be a superhero.

“I won’t say anything to Rio or Jefferson or anyone else. Your secret is safe with me, Miles. I swear it.”

His shoulders drooped in relief. Without warning Miles wrapped his wiry arms around you in a tight hug, “Thank you so much. You’re the best.”

“Don’t thank me. I haven’t even done anything yet. In fact I should be thanking you for protecting the multiverse tonight.” You said, a faint smile growing on your lips despite your best efforts. You hugged him back. “If you ever need anything, just let me know. I’m going to guess even superheroes need a little help every now and then.”

“That would be the understatement of the century.” Gwen said, balancing on the balcony railing with all the grace and poise of a ballerina.

“We should really get going, Miles. It was nice meeting you, Miss Y/l/n.” You nearly had a heart attack when Gwen fell backwards without hesitation, catching herself in a swing from an old lamppost.

“See you around, Miss Y/l/n,” Miles said and dove after her, adding a flourish in the form of a front flip.

“See you around, Spider-Man.” You said softly, finally escaping into your apartment and sliding the balcony door shut.

<- Previous chapter Next chapter ->

>>>

Sneak peek at Chapter Three (because I want you all to know what I have planned, but I've made this chapter too long):

You awoke with a start, suffocating under the heavy blankets that you’d buried yourself in last night. You’d been dreaming again about the collider. You’d been dreaming about Miguel - this time in a feverish haze that left your mind in a puddle on the floor.

How was it possible that a stranger could occupy so much space in your mind? It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that he’d held you like you were everything and then left without saying goodbye.

Are you thinking about me too? You wondered, opening your eyes in hopes of chasing the memory of him away.

…Maybe you were still dreaming, because the last time you checked you hadn’t fallen asleep under a tree in Central Park. And even if you had, you highly doubted you could have lugged your bed frame with you all the way from Brooklyn.

Oh por el amor de Dios.

Author's note: I hope you guys are enjoying where the story is heading! To those of you who reached out and offered to help with the Spanish - thank you so much! I've been a little overwhelmed by the responses on Tumblr and haven't been good about keeping track of things, but I have a friend who will be helping me out moving forward. I'll be updating the masterlist once the next chapter is scheduled. In the meantime, have a great weekend everyone :)

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x wife reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #miguel x reader #miguel x y/n #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman #miles morales #gwen stacy #peter parker #peter b parker #hobie brown #pavitr prabhakar #atsv miguel #atsv x reader #atsv x you

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cornnick · 11 days

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Spider-Men Beyond The Web- Chapter 2 AVALANCHE PT.2

Mr.Aarons Davis Place Late At Night

"Ok, you told your parents y'all gonna be late?" Nick asked them as they nodded their heads. "Yeah, we did just let's start the test already," Maxine said. Nick and his friends were testing his abilities. Suppose following Mayday's line of thinking. Possible Spider powers. Speaking of Mayday, I tossed something to Nick. It was a spirit Halloween Spider-Man costume. "Wow. Do I have to put this on?" Nick asked her. "Wanna make it authentic don't we," she said as Gwen nodded. "Yeah, Nick. Put it on," she said with a chuckle. Nick sighed "I'm only putting the mask on." he said as he put the mask on. "...I feel stupid." He said as Miles looked at him. "I like it," he said as Nick looked at him. "Of course you do," he said.

"Alright. Let's get the first test started. Wall climbing." Mayday said as she watched with the others. Nick looked at the wall as he tried to climb it with his hand, but they weren't sticking to the walls. "Huh...Ok, how about using your feet." Maxine said. Nick nodded as he used his feet...and they were stuck. he was on the wall walking. "What the fuck..." he said. Mayday takes note of this. "Interesting. You can't stick with your hands but on your feet," she said. "Cool!" Miles said as Nick looked at them as he got off the wall. "Alright. Next test. Web." she said as Nick nodded his head "Yeah web...how did he do it. Like this?" he did what Spider-Man does as he shoots Web in Miles's face. "AH!" Miles fell as Maxine laughed seeing this. "Ok, organic web." Mayday writes this down. Gwen went to help Miles get the web off his face. "What are you even writing in that notepad May?" She asked her as Mayday looked at Gwen. "Simply jotting notes down," she said. "Ok next is jumping," Mayday said as Nick sighed. "This is gonna take all night isn't it," he said as Mayday looked at him. "It will If you don't stop talking," she said with sass. "Alright Alright." Nick got ready as he prepared himself. "Ok. if you scream. web swing. that's part of this test." Mayday said as Nick looked at her. "W-Web swing?" he said "And go!" Mayday said as Nick jumped...And it was pretty high as Nick screams coming down. Nick looks as he shoots out a web catching a building. As he did he slammed into a wall. "Awwww fuck!" he held his nose. His friends came over. "Maybe that's enough spider training for the night?" Gwen said as Mayday nodded. "I did get some pretty good notes here," she said as Nick looked at them. "I need a tissue." his nose was bleeding.

Downtown Brooklyn

An armored vehicle that was carrying some money was heading off to the bank. Soon they stopped at a red light. "Another boring detail of moving one stack of money to another." the driver said. "Hey at least it's a cushy type job." his buddy said. "Yeah...I just wish something exciting would happen once and a while..." the driver said before hearing a loud BRRRRRMMMM feeling the whole truck flip over on its side. The driver was in a daze. Before hearing another loud BRRRRRMMMMMM. The driver looked behind himself and saw the truck doors were open. "It's payday fellas!" he heard a voice yell out as he could see a man in yellow and red. Soon he saw a couple of people in black masks start to take the money. The driver looks at his buddy who was knocked out. He heard footsteps coming up to the front and he could see the man in yellow and red more clearly. "Sorry, it had to come to this pals," Shocker said as the driver soon passed out. Shocker looked at the people in black masks. "Alright! let's move before the cops show up!" he ordered as he and the men and women in black masks got in their cars. Along with Shocker. They soon drove off. Shocker went up to the front of the seat as he looked at the driver. The driver took their mask off to reveal to be Jones. "See wasn't that fun?" Shocker said to him and Jones shook his head "Hell no that wasn't fun!" Jones yelled as Shocker chuckled. "Well, it was fun for me. You and all these other debtors are gonna be squashed in no time." Shocker said. "So those are other people like me that own Tombstone money?" Jones asked and Shocker nodded his head. "You are correct my friend. now pull up here," he said as Jones pulled up in an alleyway along with the other debtors. Shocker got out with the bag of money and he set it down on the floor. The other debtors had their bags and set theirs down. "Ok..." Shocker takes out a hand full of cash and tosses it to them. "Here's your cut. And the rest is for me." Shocker said. "Wait this is only five percent of the take. This isn't enough for all the risk we did." one of the debtors said as Shocker looked at them. "All the risk you did? I'm the one taking the risk. You're just going in and taking the money and going out." "But you involved us in this!" The debtor yelled as Shocker got up. "Lower your damn voice...you want the whole neighborhood to hear?" he asked. "Listen. All of this. is mine. You losers are gonna get your debt paid...but it's gonna be a while...now there's another truck coming into Brooklyn..." Shocker looked at them as he went to his car that was parked. "I'll contact you at a different spot," he said as he drove off. Jones then realized what he was involved in...and he didn't know if he was gonna get out of it.

Downtown Brooklyn Early Morning

Nick was testing out his webs as he aimed at some cans he set up in his room. "Say your prayers punk's. Here comes the Spider-Man," he said as he shot out a web as he got the cans. He then pulled the cans and they toppled over. Nick smirks a bit before his door knocks. "Nick It's time for breakfast." his mom said as Nick looked at his wrist which still had some web on it. He wiped the web off as he went to the kitchen. As he did he saw his mom putting his plate on the table. He looks over and sees his dad at the table watching the news. "Someone robbed an armored truck near here," he said as Nick looked at the TV. It showed the flipped armored truck. "Dang. Whatever caused that must have been a lot of force," he said as his mom came over. "I'm surprised it flipped over. Armor trucks are built like tanks." She said as she sat down. "Oh yeah. You worked on some of those trucks huh mom?" Nick said and she nodded her head. "Mhm." she smiled. "Mmm. What could flip the truck over you think? Like what have enough force?" Nick asked as his mom thought. "Mmm...Good question. Armored trucks can withstand mostly everything." She said as Nick nodded a bit. After breakfast, Nick headed to his dad's car as usual and his dad took him to school.

Brooklyn Visions Academy

Nick was in his science class with his usual friends. Minus Maxine. "Huh. And here I thought she was in our class," he said to himself as Gwen poked his friend's cheek. "Aww. young love~," she said as Nick rolled his eyes. "Come on we gotta figure this project out," he said as they were experimenting with seismic activity. Miles sets up a fake building. Soon they experimented. The building didn't fall. "Ok now let's try...." Miles turns up the experiment a bit. "Little more Miles come on," Nick said as Miles looked at him. He nodded and turned it all the way up making a tiny but loud BRRRRMMM. "Woah!" Miles said as the whole building soon broke. "Huh. How high was that?" Nick asked "10." Miles said as Nick nodded his head but soon figured it out. "Oh so that's how the truck flipped over," he said to himself as his friends looked at him. "Talking about that Armoed truck huh?" Mayday said. "Dad was talking about that." "Ahh, so that's why he set up this experiment. Interesting." Nick said. "Hey... an armored truck being robbed in Brooklyn. You know what this calls for?" Gwen said smirking and looking at Nick. "I think it's time for...you know who," she whispers as Nick looks at Gwen. "...Waut you want us to look into this?" he asked shocked. "Well. Not us...more like you," she said as Nick's eyes twitched. "We haven't even conducted any more experiments yet on my powers," he whispered as Mayday nodded her head. "True...but...Dad always says that field experiences are the greatest teacher." Mayday said. "Yeah 'cause Mr.Parker knows what I'm going through," Nick said as he looked at Miles. "Hey Morales. You gonna help me out here?" he asked as Miles looked at Nick and then the two girls. He chuckled. "Hey, the girls have a point. Besides. Be nice to see Spider-Man in Action again." he said as Nick sighed. "I hate all of you."

Downtown Brooklyn

Nick was wearing the spirit Halloween Spider-Man costume as he looked around a bit at the Brooklyn city below on top of a building. If this person was targeting bank trucks. He will know. Good thing Gwen's dad was chief of police. She told him that her dad sent some police cars to defend the trucks. Right on cue he sees the cop cars guarding the armored cars. "Ok...Here you go." Nick said as he jumped off the building and soon web swings. "Ahhhh fuck fuck-!" he shoots out another web as it anchored to another building he hits a building but he kept going. "Agh! Damn it! I should have practiced more!" he said as he kept web swinging. He soon saw a black car speeding by as he saw the window rolled down. "Interesting," Nick said before he heard a loud BRRRMMMMM hit a police car. The police car flipped over a few feet in the air. Nick's eyes widen as he webswings to the police car and gets on it. "This is stupid!" he said as he had an idea. He webbed the car to some nearby buildings. Stopping the car in mid-air. Nick soon sees the black car and armored car getting away. "I gotta stop this fast," he told himself as he webs swung over. As he saw the black car he webbed the roof of it and yoinked himself quick on top of the car. He soon looked through the passenger window to see a man in a yellow and red mask and a couple of people in a black mask. "Ahh hello there?" Nick said.

"Spider-Man? I thought you were a myth!" Shocker said as he pointed his gauntlets at Nick. "Don't matter. You be dead in a few seconds," he said Nick's eyes widened as he dodged that shockwave of an attack. hearing another loud BRRRRMMMMM he sees the armored truck flip over on its side. Nick web zips away to a building to get his bearing. That was a loud noise. "Jesus my ears," he said. Shocker made the driver of the black car stop. "B-but what about Spider-Man?" the driver asked as Shocker scoffs. "What about him?" he said as he saw the cops stop their cars getting out. "Freeze!" they yelled as they aimed their guns at him. "Psh. Freeze this coppers!" Shocker said and with another loud BRRRRMMMMMM he fired his gauntlets making the cops and cop car go flying. Shocker chuckled as he saw Nick web swing he caught an officer who was in mid-air and webbed them to safety. Nick soon sets his attention to Shocker as he webs zips to him. "Get the money! I'll handle this bug," he said as Nick looked at him. "Mmmm. What do I call you?" Nick asked. "Me? Well. No one ever asked...But you can call me. Shocker!" he said as he fired another blast at Nick. Nick dodged before getting hit with another blast by Shocker. It felt like he was hit with hammers. "Ow..." he laid on his back as Shocker came over to Nick and put a foot on his chest. "You know I heard stories about you Spider-Man when I was a kid. But this...This is pathetic. oh well." Shocker readies another blast. Nick looks at him as he webbed his eyes. "AHHH!!!" Shocker couldn't see as he fired a couple of blasts. Nick dodged the blast. He noticed the blast hitting buildings. Some of the building debris was gonna hit a civilian. Nick's eyes widen as he zips over and gets the civilian out of the way. "You ok?-" Nick looks at the civilian a bit. It was Maxine. "Maxine?!" he said as he got off. "Nice moves Spider," she said Nick blushed as he looked over to see Shocker getting the web off and saw Maxine and him. Nick grabs Maxine by the waist as he gets him and her out of the way before they get hit. He set Maxine on the roof. "You stay here," he said. "Don't have to tell me twice," Maxine said as Nick looked down seeing Shocker getting in his black car and driving off. Nick soon looks over seeing the armored truck back open. They took the money. "Shit I gotta-!" he held his side and chest. The pain was coming. "Ow fuck." he said as he fell on his face. Maxine's eyes widen as she helps Nick up. "Ugh. Get my phone. "it's in my pocket." he said to her. She takes his phone out. "Call Mayday. Tell her to get the others and will meet up at Uncle Aarons's place," he said as she nodded her head before seeing Nick pass out. "Nick? Nick!" she yelled.

Mr.Aarons Davis Place Late At Night

Nick started to slowly wake up as he looked around. He was at Uncle Aaron's place. "He's awake!" Miles said as he came over. "Ugh...Hey Miles. Wait is your uncle here?" Nick asked as he held his rips "No he's out thankfully. Won't be back for a while...So who did this to you?" Miles asked as the other came over. "Ugh. Some dude name Shocker." Nick said as Gwen raised an eyebrow. "Shocker?... Herman?" she said as they looked at Gwen. "Shocker is a dude my dad kept on arresting. Small-time thief...He did this to you?" she said as Nick nodded. "Yeah had some type of...I don't Sesmeic gaunlets. That's how he's doing those armored truck hits." Nick said as Maxine came over with an icepack. "If it wasn't for you I be dead. You're kinda good with this superhero stuff," she said as Nick blushed. "Well, you know. it's all part of the job?" he said trying to sound cool. Mayday came over. "Not to break up this little flirting but if you don't stop Shocker. He's gonna hurt more people," she said as Nick sighs. "Yeah... you're right...Gonna need a new suit tho." Nick said as Mayday smirked. "Finally you asked. I have been working on something for you," she said as she went to go get it. a few moments later she came with a suitcase. "I think is better than any commission I took," she said as Nick looked at the suitcase and opened it. "... You right May...this is better than any comm you done."

#maydayparker #spider man #spidersona #Nick Arachid #Shocker #miles morales #herman schultz #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel fandom #gwen stacy #loving parents

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pancakebutton · 1 year

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Threads of Fate (Miguel O’Hara X Reader)

Chapter One: A Rude Hello

Hi my name is (Y/n) and I'm New York's friendly neighborhood Spider-Woman. I grew up in Brooklyn with my parents and my little sister Camille, she's 13. I'm currently in my first year attending New York University studying astrophysics.

My story all started when I was walking down the Brooklyn Bridge with some friends and a meteor hit the upper New York bay. Later, when we went to go check it out, I was bit by a radioactive spider on my ankle. I thought nothing of it but as the days went by I started to develop these crazy powers. Like how I got stuck to my door and could jump higher than the average person.

But now a few years later, I've mastered my powers and fight crime in my free time. It wasn't easy and the weight of the responsibility felt like a burden at times, but I knew if I'd let the world pass me by more and more people would die. I lost my aunt Bee because of that lesson.

•

"All units we have a 10-35 on Baltic Street proceed with caution suspect armed with...tentacles...and has a civilian as a hostage"

I swing from building to building as quick as possible trying to beat the cops to the scene. From the sounds of the report, it seems like it's some kind of giant octopus that is terrorizing nearby civilians, but with these types of calls you never know when you're getting into. I finally get atop a tall building nearby and it's clear that I was in fact...kind of right.

A strange blue man held a little girl in one of his four tentacles in the middle of the block and I raced down the building towards him. "-Kron and I have several associates we want you to meet Spider-Man-...where am I?" The man looks around confused and puts down the girl. "Y-you're not Spider-Man" he stutters in surprise, I then butt in "No but I can do you one better with Spider-Woman!"

I shoot out a slew of webs aimed to tie his arms, legs, and tentacles together, but before they could reach him, red webs hit the man and stuck him to a nearby wall. "That should take care of you Doctor" a tall, built man in a costume similar to mine walked towards the so-called "doctor" from the shadows. Out of shock I had spaced out for just a second and realized I was heading straight for a car at full force. The red webs spun effortlessly towards me and caught me just in time sending me straight towards the man who had spun them.

I manage to stop myself from crashing into the man just in time with my own webs. My eyes were wide from how quickly everything had happened, "wha-...w-who are you? I was gonna catch that guy if it weren't for..." The man put his hands on his hips, "yeah? You really think you would have gotten that guy? Move. I've got things to take care of, I don't need a child in my way."

He uses his arm to get around me as I scoff at his response. I turn with him to see the doctor gone, but before I could find him again I'm flipped upside down. "Don't come any closer Spider-Man or else she gets it!" Somehow the doctor got behind me and was now holding me captive with the strong grasp of his tentacles. One of which begins to wrap around my neck and it felt harder and harder to breath.

I manage to move my wrist and shoot out a web at his eyes causing him to drop me. Immediately afterwards the Spider-Man shoots out his own red webs, enough to completely cover the doctor. He then runs to my side, "are you alright?" The discontent from earlier in his voice is completely replaced with genuine concern.

I slap his hands away, "yes yes I'm fine, don't worry about me just get the guy." The doctor had managed to get some of his tentacles out of the webbing and was trying to rip off the rest. As he squirmed around, one of his free tentacles grabs onto a nearby light pole and he swings it in our direction but goes over us towards a store full of people.

In an instant like it was a reflex, I manage to shoot a few webs to it, but I knew it wouldn't be enough. Before it could hit the building the Spider-Man's red webs hit the pole and we both maneuver the pole to a halt and it slams into the ground. I run over to the store and swing open the doors, "everyone this way! You're in danger here! Go! Go! Go!" I directed the people in the opposite direction of the fight.

I made sure no one else was in the vicinity of the fight and turned to see the doctor and the Spider-Man in a grappling fight exchanging blows. The doctor looked strong but it seemed the Spider-Man was even stronger and took the hits like they were nothing. I run over and hop onto a building then threw a web that landed on a tentacle and stick it to the building so it's immobile.

I then do the same to all of his limbs until finally, the doctor is unable to move. "Finally your stupid antics are done with Doctor Octopus. I'm sending us both back home. Lyla send us back!" I hop down from the building and walk over to them both, "wait you're leaving? Where are you going?"

"Sorry I didn't mean for this to happen, we're both from Earth 928, the one we're in now is Earth 8766. In each universe is a different Spider-Man, or in your case Spider-Woman, that protects their version of New York. Somehow a blip caused us to end up here, it's been happening more frequent recently and I'm trying to hunt down anomalies and put them back where they belong. Anyway, we'll be going now."

A strange and colorful portal opens up next to them and the man picks up the doctor and begins walking towards it. "Wait!" I call out running after them but I stumble and trip, not aware of my surroundings, and fall into the two, pulling all three of us into the portal.

#miguel ohara #Miguel ohara x reader #atsv miguel #x reader #self insert #fanfic #fan fiction #across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv

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batmanaday · 2 years

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The Batman Season 1

Sorry about the break in updates--I’ve been a little under the weather. But, in the course of babysitting my young niece, I’ve also had an excuse to watch the first season of The Batman.

Now, in the highly niche field of people what are trying to keep small children entertained, I actually think El Batman might outdo Batman TAS. Not to be insulting, but it’s louder, more fast-paced, more colorful, more action, more jokes. Hear me out—I’m not saying that a cartoon about two childhood friends, one of whom grows up to be a hood and the other grows up to be a priest, isn’t ~poetic cinema~. I’m just saying it’s not definitely something a four-year-old is inclined to watch.

(As for her favorite character being the Joker… what can I say, she can’t get it from my side of the family.)

The biggest sin you can lay against The Batman is simply that it’s exactly what it says on the tin: a Batman cartoon. With the bad luck to follow a revolutionary, iconic, character-defining, decades-long run on the character that quite possibly can’t be overshadowed… unless you just do the Diniverse over again without Bruce/Babs or something.

BTAS was a sublime, superlative work. The Batman is a reasonably competent and well-done adaptation that people worked hard on. But how you gonna keep them down on the farm after they’ve listened to Kevin Conroy, et al et al? Just for instance, the cops in BTAS wear realistic cop outfits, they carry guns, and they shoot at people.

The cops in The Batman wear weird military uniforms, they carry laser guns that they never fire, and whenever there’s trouble, they use tasers. Exactly what you would expect from a modern cartoon that has to get past the usual wood-brained Standards & Practices department. Is it their fault that the last cartoon through the pipeline drove through the wall in a flaming car, flipping the bird and guzzling a vodka tonic?

There are some things that don’t help the matter. In a bit of corporate synergy for Batman Begins, this Batman is 26-years-old and has been active for three years. And he’s definitely a young, relatable Batman. Rino Romano does his best, but let’s face it—Batman should not sound like Spider-Man and he shouldn’t make jokes about whether something will “buff out” after he crashes the Batmobile.

For what it’s worth, I do like the show’s quasi-futuristic look, with Tron lines on a lot of Batman’s gear. It’s toyetic, sure, but it’s also a nice departure from BTAS’s neo-noir look. If you can’t have Italian mobsters with tommy guns, I suppose putting Batman in powered armor is a decent substitute. The animation is frequently very good, with action scenes that might surpass your average effort from BTAS. They really capture the fluidity and acrobatics that Batman has in the comics, whereas I recall the Kevin Conroy Batman as being largely just a brawler.

Now, since The Batman is pretty much a freak of the week show, I’m not going to review the episodes so much as the supervillains, so let’s dive right in to see what works and what doesn’t.

The Joker

Yeah, this is a miss. I know Heath Ledger kind of did a grunge thing, but there’s only so far you can push the homeless serial killer vibe before you lose the Clown Prince of Crime thing that’s sorta central to the character. And Ledger’s about as far as I want the homeless serial killer pushed.

To be fair, BTAS has a poor redesign of Joker as well—to The Batman’s credit, they pretty much immediately redid Joker’s look with a more traditional tuxedo. And, though Kevin Michael Richardson has the unenviable task of following up the other most iconic incarnation in the BTAS character line-up, I think he does a fine job. He’s no Mark Hamill, but c’mon, there needs to be an option for the Joker other than Mark Hamill playing him forever.

Bane

Aside from the visual, this is pretty much a traditional take on the character. Hispanic guy, takes steroids, breaks the Batman. Here he’s a mercenary instead of a… warlord… guy, but that’s a pretty minor departure. And if the Mexican wrestler look bugged you, they avoid that at the small cost of turning him into a gimp.

The Penguin

Yup, that’s the Penguin. They play around with Cobblepot’s social status and even give him a dynamic with Alfred. More significantly, they make him a physical threat to Batman, which seems extreme, but I suppose no one appreciated the character when he was ‘just’ a crimelord, so… we can’t have nice things. Oh well, the guy always has trick umbrellas, so how out of character can it be for him to be able to use them effectively?

Oh, and for some reason he has two kabuki-themed henchwomen. I don’t know either.

The Penguin tends to be most effective when his characterization is riffing on his ‘gentlemanly’ nature in one way or another. Here, he fancies himself an equal to Bruce Wayne, but he acts like a lout. Maybe that misses the mark for you, but Tom Kenny’s performance (which he’ll amusingly recycle pretty much intact for the Ice King in Adventure Time) is endearing enough to make this Penguin a love-to-hate villain. I think it works because he’s mostly just a douchebag, not an out-and-out monster like a lot of the comics make him out to be when they’re trying to turn him into a ‘serious threat’.

Catwoman

Yeah, that’s Catwoman. I don’t know what’s going on with the cowl or the Mickey Mouse ears—does she get satellite TV on those things? But I suppose that’s the problem when you have a simple design, you have to change SOMETHING, and the Diniverse pretty much nailed her look to begin with.

Man-Bat

This guy’s a bit of a departure, in that this Langstrom ditches the Curt Connors routine to WANT to be Man-Bat because he’s a Batman fanboy that wants to emulate him. Boy, the more popular Batman gets in real life, the more characters have that motivation in-universe, don’t they? I suppose you could say this ruins Man-Bat’s character, but has he ever been that good a character to begin with? The Lizard works because mad science is absolutely Spider-Man’s bailiwick. But Batman fighting a Man-Bat just seems like it was late on a Friday with a deadline coming up. This is probably a better design than this character deserves.

Mr. Freeze

Okay, talk about a mixed bag. This Freeze ditches Michael Ansara’s captivating performance and BTAS’s iconic backstory to turn him into a generic criminal who makes ice puns (even if they’re well-delivered ice puns, thanks to VA Clancy Brown). But I love the design. I think the Mike Mignola spacesuit works great in a zeerust alt-history context like BTAS is set in, but in a setting where there are no Victorian steampunks or clocktowers or shit, this Freeze looks absolutely cool and badass and great. I wouldn’t mind seeing this guy fight Christian Bale.

Firefly

A glowing ass? Really?

Cluemaster

I kinda think that if you must do fat jokes, they should be restricted to the Penguin, who is kinda grandfathered in. And I suppose this characterization of Arthur Brown as a basement-dwelling loser precludes him courting someone long enough to spawn Stephanie Brown… boo!

Clayface

The usual behind-the-scenes shenanigans apparently prevented The Batman from using Harvey Dent or Commissioner Gordon (at least at first), so instead they gave Bruce a bestie on the police force who was then Killing Joked by the Joker and turned into Clayface. Not really an adaptation of the comics character, but then, there’ve literally been like ten Clayfaces in the comics, so I can’t very well begrudge The Batman for doing their own. It’s sort of random to have a character that’s basically Two-Face without being Two-Face… like a Spider-Man adaptation where Harry Osborn becomes Venom instead of Green Goblin 2… but I try not to be that anal about these sorts of things. I mean, look at the guy, he’s a shapeshifting mud monster. What more do you want?

Ventriloquist/Scarface

This is pretty much the same character as BTAS did, only he has more of a Tony Soprano look than Edward G. Robinson. Oh, and he ends up being a giant robot. See, I like that. Instead of redoing BTAS, go broader and sillier. It’s a fresh take, you must admit.

#the batman #clayface #scarface #catwoman #the joker #the penguin #firefly #cluemaster #mr. freeze #man-bat #bane

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daddelue · 1 year

Text

Let’s drink -cyanide and happiness

Serial killer 2 - see above (s.a.)

The whack job - s.a.

I killed him -

Big operation

Basebib

Why men have nipples

The badge

The lil‘ Dic‘s

Lovely day

Cloud watching (!!!!!!!!!! A+, genius)

Love story

Don’t stop

Don’t talk + after credit scene

Confession

The old store

Moth man 2

Who is moth man

CPR

The boxer 2

The spotlight

Arts & crafts

Roulette

Sweet flips (“well the mob has spoken. Who am I to judge” said by the judge)

The comedian

The punishment

That’s it

Rainy day

Don’t do it

Totally forgot

Tunnel of Love

Blind date (!!!)

Land ho

Sexy car wash

Sad Larry in love

Lookin good

Something sexy (!!)

The groom

The milkshake

The wire (!!!!)

Stargazing (!)

Pie

Dead

What I fear most (!!)

The wardrobe ?

The farmer

Occupied

Pool party

Spider facts

Squeaky clean

The sniper (!)

Winning numbers (!!!!)

The delivery (!!!)

The bouncer (!!!)

Step dad what are you doing?

Go to bed

The narc knight: tattle begins

Coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee

Senor leanfist (!!!!)

Not Toy Story

Easiest job in the world (!!)

Where’s mom (!!!!)

Holy toast

Ed gein’s dream house

Gear up (!!!!!)

Happy hour

Jesus Christ supersoldier

What to do when you’re late

Free shirts (!!!!!!!!)

Pill poppin pals

Spider dudes big day

Ghost cops

The prostethic

Alien

Monkey paw (!!!!!!)

Out of order (!!!)

Eggs

Final words (!!)

Dead

The Beard (!!)

Werewolf (!!!)

The funeral

Globe-o-rangers /2

John Batman 3: Just us friends (“Wow-a-woman”)

The asteroid

Noisy neighbours (!!!)

Lab results (!!!!!)

Rainy day (pretty fucked up)

The renaissance man: part 1

The cowboy funeral (!!)

The homestead

Seriously (!!!!!!!)

The Shelter

Good dog

The rubber part 1

Ladder part 3 (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

Junk mail (the absolute pinnacle of comedy.!!!!!!!)

Vending machine

Robbery

Waiting for the bus (wow. But good. And fucked up. Emotional.)

Pull my finger (!!)

Step on a crack

The invention

Don’t talk (!!!!!)

Something spacey

Daydreaming (!!!!!!!!!)

Humperdink university (!!!)

I killed him (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

Stevipusly on StevieMcShortstuff (!!)

Phone call (!)

When will it end (!!!!!)

The punishment (probably already on the list but it’s really good)

Arts & crafts (+ after credit)

Sweet flips

Exit (!!!!!!!! + after credit)

The man who could sit anywhere (!!!!!!!)

The park (1-3)

The extinction

Clownterview

Donovan duck (!!!!!!)

Bowling night

Repulsel

Haunted

The view

Loose tooth

Something series (like something scrumptious) (!!!!!!)

Lunks balanced breakfast

Making out (!!)

The ER visit (oooooffff)

(Gym class)

The farmer

Coffee

Rudy “it’s a bitch ass life” (!!!!!) plus after credit scene

What’s up doc

The fire whisperer (!!!!!)

Goin down (after credit scene !!)

Wishes (!!!!!!!)

Dr. Realdoctor

Public speaking (!!!!!!!!!!!!)

Sunlight (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

Quarterly report (!!)

The cup (!!!)

Nerd Camp (!!)

The joke book (not very funny)

Fart in a jar Martin

The truth about first class

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rosemaryandarsenic · 2 years

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Some more Gareth HC’s

Tw/ mention of knives, paper cuts, blood, there’s spicy content in here (NSFW, minors DNI), car accident, stretch marks, bruising, broken bones, struggles with sexuality, AIDS, Catholicism.

- like can we discuss this man’s thighs. Because….yummy. I don’t know how I’d be able to concentrate if he was wearing shorts at any point in this show. I have this picture in my mind of Gareth being forced to wear those 70s/80s aggressively short shorts out once and like, it causing a car accident because all anyone can see is the hams on this man lmao. I just know his lap is so comfy and perfect.

- ALSO, the tummy. His little pudge drove me over the edge because it’s SO FREAKING CUTE. Like imagine how warm and comfortable this man is to cuddle with. Bonus points - he probably has stretch marks that are so pretty. He’s insecure about it but they’re just like the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, little opal lightning strikes up his torso <3 I know people tend to crap on stretch marks but I honestly think they’re so gorgeous - they’re so personal and they’re such a meaningful sign of growth and change and I just love ‘‘em so much.

- His hair. Just take a moment with me to picture in your mind how it would feel to run your hands through it. It probably smells like shampoo most days but after shows he smells like smoke and mint and sweat and his curls get all wet and cling to his face. Watching how it swings in rhythm when he’s playing the drums, waiting for him to flip it when he’s really feeling the music. Putting it into little pigtails and one of those fuzzy headbands so you can have a spa night with masks and all.

- Gareth strikes me as the kind of individual that’s always bruised or cut somewhere because he just attacks life at full speed. Screw knives, he rips open packages with his bare hands and suddenly has cardboard cuts. He falls while moving something and has a scraped knee. Gets bloody noses every summer and without fail gets a sinus cold every year on Jan 2nd. Once he broke his thumb and called you crying afterwards, he made you swear to never tell anyone.

- I need his ears to be pierced. I .NEED. HIS. EARS. TO. BE. PIERCED.

- Welcome to my Ted talk: Gareth’s necklace and Gwydions chains. Tell me what medieval sorcery is in that silver little chain just bouncing on his chest. I’m jealous of silver. I want that chain to smack me in the face while we’re in missionary. Anyways.

- HIS HANDS. Like you know when dudes have those slender but also muscular hands? Like the ones that have super nimble fingers and really good hand strength? Yeah. Also his nails look shockingly clean and I like to imagine him with one of those little nail scrubbers when he washes his hands. Adorable.

- DIMPLES.

- Films I think modern Gareth would love: treasure planet, coraline , the Batman movies (Christian bale and Robert Pattinson ones), the 1996 Romeo’ and Juliet, Paul blart: mall cop, goosebumps, American ultra, moonrise kingdom, the hunger games, what we do in the shadows, smallville, sharknado, big hero six, love Rosie, midnight in Paris, paddington, fleabag, marvel movies, into the spider verse, metal lords, peaky blinders lol.

- As much as I love sub Gareth, I feel like he’s a hardcore Dom or at the minimum a strong switch. Something about him radiates “I like telling people what to do” but in a soft way? Like irl he’s pretty chill, sets decent boundaries, likes to adventure and let loose. In bed though - 👀 he’s just a huge service top who loves putting you in your place. 99% of the time he’s just teasing you or pushing you till you can’t go anymore because it makes him feel so good to watch you melt.

- That being said he’s def a cuddles guy. Likes being babied when he’s sick, likes holding your hand all the time. Always has to be touching you somewhere or sneaking little kisses. It gets worse if you ever get pregnant because he’s a family guy so he won’t let you do anything alone “just in case”.

- I can see him being a teacher of some kind, maybe a music teacher? Like he’s gotta be excellent with kids, especially the stubborn ones. I can also see him being a History nut, so maybe a history teacher. Really smart he’s just not a huge school person and has some rough mental health days so he does okay but not top of the class.

- I just feel like he starts painting his nails in college sometimes just for the hell of it. Doesn’t stop, so he walks into work one day and his students are like, hey what’s on your nails? He’s just like, my wife is great at painting nails and she got new polish - and he just shows his hand and his nails are all glittery and green <3

- When he’s a dad he absolutely gets tattoos with the specific intent of letting his kids color them in. You’re just chilling and you see the two of them at the dining room table. Your little kiddo goes, “look! I fixed daddy’s tattoo!” And it’s just marker scribbles everywhere but Gareth shows everyone anyway.

- This is ridiculously specific but I think Gareths first kiss was actually with a boy. It was a dare in elementary school and he didn’t know how to process it. He started questioning real young and his family is a lot of things but not homophobic so he just tries to figure it out. As times change and people get more open, Gareth gets more comfortable with talking about it because he was bullied for so long. I’m general he seems like the kind of person who just doesn’t feel like labels are needed, he just likes who he likes and it happens to be everyone lol. Would absolutely go to pride with you if you asked, and constantly goes out of his way to make sure people know he’s a safe place if they ever need it.

- This is super depressing but I think about how with the time period, the gang probably will lose someone to AIDS. It’s super personal. I can see robin volunteering at the hospital to sit and talk with people, and Steve too. Will and Joyce donate quilts and Jonathan takes free portraits for couples so they have pictures together. Gareth volunteers no doubt, and will probably lose several close friends because the way the metal community and queer community are tied together. Freddie Mercury’s death def hits him really hard. I can’t emphasize enough that this is so serious, and as someone in the queer community I can only imagine how it would feel being queer in the 80s. Much love and peace to our fallen family, we remember you <3

- On a happier note, I feel like Gareth is someone who loves drag shows lmao. He would absolutely punch a Terf in the face and I stand by that.

- I think Gareth likes Nu Metal okay, I know that’s probably controversial but let me have it lmao

- He also loves thrash metal

- Modern Gareth is a parks and rec person over the office

- He loves those rainbow tootsie roll things

- Man’s fucking LOVES pirates. Like LOVES them.

- I’d bet so much money that his family is Irish catholic but he’s not practicing

- College Gareth owns a buttwiser shirt. I can picture it so clearly and I both hate it and love it.

#gareth emerson #gareth the great #stranger things #gwydion lashlee walton

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averagewriter-inthedark · 3 years

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You Can Run Into Anyone These Days | Post NWH Series P. 5

Contains spoilers for Spider-Man NWH

Catch up on parts 1-4 -> Series Masterlist | Marvel Masterlist

Characters & pairings: Tobey!Peter Parker x Female!reader/Black Cat (romantic), Benny Parker OC, Harry Parker OC, Gwen Stacy, Mary Jane Watson x John Jameson, J. Jonah Jameson

Content Warnings: fluff, profanity, spoilers for SMNWH, mentions of violence. Implications of harassment. Flirtatious banter & sexual tension | female reader (she/her)

Premise: Ever have those moments where someone from the past pops up out of nowhere & you don’t know what to say? Yeah it seems like it’s one of those days for the Parkers. A day off of relaxation seems to not be in the cards because everyone and their momma decided to make reacquaintance.

Note: in this chapter, several characters from the Raimi movies appear including the ones listed above. This does diverge canon slightly so keep that in mind. Other than that we are over halfway done with this series 🥺

———————-

“Jesus Chris—!!” The masked robber was cut off when a foot met his chest sending him flying into the window. Glass shattered around the man as he let out a grunt when making impact with the harsh concrete. There was a feminine laugh and he lifted his gaze to see the infamous Black Cat peering at him with amusement.

“Uh oh,” she sing-sung, “looks likes somebody got into some troooubleee.” The robber huffs, pushing up from the ground. He unclips a knife from his belt, which only makes the Cat raise a brow. “That’s all you got, buddy? Guess this is gonna be easy.”

With a battle cry the robber jumps back through the window and starts slashing at the woman—who avoids every attack coming her way. She crouches down at one point, doing a back walkover to kick the knife from his hand. It falls to the ground and she spins to land a roundhouse kick to his chest. The man falls back to a table, shattering the wood making him drop to the ground.

The Black Cat *phews* flinging away the fallen hair from her face. “Babe you wanna handle this one?”

Before the man could make an escape his hands were webbed together. “What the hell—AH.” Another web meets his back pulling him up to the ceiling. His ankles were next making him fully retrained while hanging from the ceiling. “Get me down from here!” He starts to shout and wiggle causing him to slowly spin.

When makes a full circle, the Black Cat is no longer alone. Hanging upside down by a web next to her was Spider-Man, and her hand was up slowly caressing his masked cheeks given he had dropped down beside her head.

“Nice job, Spider.” She compliments while smirking at the detained robber.

“And you as well, Cat.”

She turns her head to look at the vigilante, fondness in her gaze. “Cops on the way?”

“Just down the street.” Sure enough the sirens were heard cutting the corner and racing to the location. Spider-Man nods his head up, “Meet you on the roof?” The Cats eyes become mischievous and he knows exactly what she’s about to suggest.

“Race you there.” She jumps from the shattered window, before lifting her arm to send a hidden grappling hook underneath her sleeve to the roof of the building. It mounts, pulling her up just as the first cop car stops in front of the store.

Her hands meet the gutter of the building, pushing her body up and over so she front flipped onto the floor before rolling to slow down the momentum she was enduring. When she stood up her lips fell to a pout seeing Spider-Man had already beat her. “Damn.”

“Getting slow, trouble.” He teases, pulling up his mask since they were out of sight. Peters blue eyes met hers, making her get lost in them immediately like they always seemed to do. They were just as gorgeous as the ocean and the moonlight enhanced their shine.

Y/n made a sound of offense. “I’ll get you next time, stud.” She stalks toward him, falling into his open arms and pressing her lips to his. Peter kisses her back, hands moving to her waist to keep her close. “How romantic of us—catching bad guys on Christmas Eve,” she says when they pull away. “Really captures the holiday spirit.”

Peter laughs, “Can’t catch a break even during the holidays, darling.” He takes her hand and walks over the roofs of the adjacent buildings. Every inch of the streets were decorated and of course the big tree was up by the ice rink. They both took a seat on the edge of one of the roofs overlooking the scene. It was pretty much empty on the streets—given it was the night before Christmas.

“I still can’t believe we ran into almost everyone today.” Y/n said after a few moments of peaceful silence. A chuckle followed, almost like she was still processing the days events. Beside her, Peter also chuckles glancing to her with a raised brow.

“I’m more impressed nothing happened. Between you or me.”

“Hey!” She said in mock offense, “I was good.” Her lips curl in a smirk, “As were you. Thought you and Erik were gonna tousle it out and make me bail you out—on Christmas Eve of all days.”

Peter rolls his eyes, “I would never subject you to that, Cat. Maybe yesterday I would’ve of.” He laughs when she playfully swats his chest, the man catching her hand to hold in his. “I’m just playing, Y/n.” He kisses her knuckles, “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“I know, stud,” she replies, adjusting herself so she was seated bridal style in his lap—arms going around his neck while his moved to hold her hips. “Although it does do things to me when you get so protective.” The bottom of her lip falls between her teeth while a lone finger traces one of the lines of his suit.

It was pushing midnight on Christmas Eve. The day had been a long one for the Parkers—luckily they both didn’t have to work and the boys were out of school on winter break. After all the chaos that happened almost three weeks prior they had lost track of time and completely forgot to send out holiday cards and gifts.

The morning was typical in the Parker household before they all got ready to head into the city to do some shopping. Y/n had made a list of everything she needed to get—and prayed there would still be available— which included a grocery list for some ingredients she needed for Christmas dinner and last minute gifts.

“C’mon boys lets go!” She shouted while pouring Midnights food into his bowl. “We’re not the only ones doing last minute things today so I wanna try and get everything before late afternoon.”

The boys ran down the stairs, quickly ate food while Y/n and Peter sipped on their coffee then were out the door ten minutes later. They again drove to where they normally did since they were going to have to take multiple trips with whatever bags they had. Once parked the first stop was to the very large Target on the main street and Y/n wanted to curse when she saw how packed it was.

Of course they weren’t the only ones having to do last minute shopping.

While the boys browsed, Peter and Y/n went off on their own. They first grabbed a pack of holiday cards that would fit for both Christmas & New Years before throwing some tissue & wrapping paper into the cart. “Babe could you grab some of those bags,” Y/n pointed to the area where gift bags.

“How many?” He asked, already walking to the corner of the aisle.

“Four,” she replied while shifting through the cute decorated gift boxes. He grabbed the amount of bags while she placed three of the boxes and placed them in the cart. Y/n started to push the cart in the direction of the grocery section. “I’m not in the mood to go to a liquor store for wine and bubbly, so lets hope they still have a few here.”

Her prayers were answered thankfully and they chose their favorite wine & champagne before grabbing some candies. They would go to a grocery store closer to their home as a last stop, but felt they needed to stack on whatever they could find in the Target. “Where did the boys say they were going?” She asked her husband while crossing some things off the list.

“Probably in the electronics,” he told her, moving to push the cart in the direction. They both skimmed the other aisles while heading to the electronic section. Y/n glanced a little bit longer at some of the home decor which had Peter giving her a look saying ‘we have enough of that.’ That made her pout.

Finally they reached the section and started searching for their children. It took a few minutes, but eventually they did which had Y/n placing a hand on Peter to stop him from walking any further. “Is that…?” She trailed off when her eyes landed on a familiar figure talking with the twins. His blonde hair was the first thing to catch her eye, then his face came into full view.

Peter squinted his eyes, before the realization came. “Oh yeah, I-I think that is, Brian.” Brian McShane to be exact. Who happens to have a certain Stacy as his mother.

Y/n mentally cursed, closing her eyes. “Well if Brian is here then that means—.” A loud voice filled the aisle from behind the couple.

“Y/n! Peter!”

“Fuck—.”

“Behave, Cat,” Peter warned already turning to greet the woman. Y/n let out a scoff, muttering under her breath, ‘I always do for you, Spider.’ They both turned—semi-fake smiles on their face to greet the blonde bombshell known as Gwen Stacy.

“I thought I’d run into you!” She said with excitement, blonde curls bouncing as she walked to them before stopping. “—When I saw the boys I knew you two must’ve close by. My gosh how have you two been?—it’s been about eight months or so since we last saw each other nowt that Brian graduated.”

“Hey, Gwen,” Peter greeted warmly. “It’s good to see you. We’ve been doing great—a lot has happened,” he gives a knowing look to Y/n, “—but overall things have been good. How’s Liam—is here with you? And Willow too?” He looks around for Gwens husband and young daughter, but doesn’t see them.

“Oh yes they are—,” she gestures to the corner she had just came from. “I left them at checkout to grab Brian. We’ll be flying out tonight spend to Christmas with Liams parents since we spent it with mine last year.” She turns to give smile to Y/n, “had to get some last minute things—been so busy you know.”

“Oh I understand that,” Y/n actually laughed, brushing her hair from her face. “Holidays—they can get pretty hectic when life passes by,” she shares another look with Peter before returning back to Gwen.

“Ain’t that the truth,” Gwen laughs. “With Liam teaching at NYU, Brian now out of the house, and me having to balance gigs while taking care of five-year-old, I just wish time could take a pause. Or,” she says after quick pause, “I wish there was another me who could help me—that would be something.”

Gwen Stacy didn’t register the nervous laughs in the Parkers voice when they replied, “y-yeah, it would be.” Nor did she see the silent gaze between the two that spoke more volume than any words exchanged. The blondes eyes had trailed to where her son was talking with the twins so she missed the interaction between the couple.

“Well,” Gwen lets out a sigh paired with a smile as she looks between the two. “I guess I better leave you both—I know you two probably have a lot to do and we still need to get everything ready before our flight. But it was so good seeing you two—,” she surprised the couple by hugging them, which they both politely returned. “—and congratulations by the way,” the notice Gwen gesture to their hands where their rings laid. “I was waiting for when you two finally tied the knot—I’m so happy for you guys.”

The smile Gwen gave them was so contagious it made them beam back. “Thank you,” Y/n replied with gratitude. Peter repeated the notion and Gwen couldn’t help but clap with excitement.

“We’ll have to maybe plan a lunch sometime,” she suggested. “—or possibly grab some coffee one morning and catch up. Willow will more than likely join us—I hope you wouldn’t mind that.”

Y/n gave a shake of the head, “Not at all. We can maybe plan for after the New Year.”

“Wonderful,” Gwen cheered. They said their goodbyes while wishing each other a Merry Christmas and Gwen called for Brian before the two disappeared from their sight.

Once they were finally gone, Y/n let out a huff. “Well,” her tone was full of surprise. “That went really well.” The Cat couldn’t believe in the span of three weeks she managed to have two civil conversations with people she once hated—well Gwen she liked a little bit compared to the deep resentment she had for Mary Jane. Gwen was always nice whenever they ran into each other—almost too nice which often had Y/n suspicious of her intentions.

But Gwen had never insulted her when she thought about it—and anything that she may have been involved with to hurt Y/n was mostly because of Peter being corrupted by the symbiote. The kiss however was a different story—but again, Gwen didn’t know Spider-Man was Peter. Not to mention, Gwen found happiness and contentment with the life she had following all the drama in 2007. She got married to a man who treated her like a queen, embarked on a successful modeling career, and had two beautiful children.

Not once did she ever say or do something that made Y/n feel like she wanted to compete against her. Even though there would be no competition cause the Cat had the Spiders heart and soul. Peter reminded her every minute with his love and affection.

Peter let out a chuckle, putting his arm around his wife. “Seeeee,” he kisses her temple, “the world is just full of surprises nowadays. Although, you gotta admit Gwens’s a saint compared to you know who.” Y/n laughs at his reference, playfully swatting his chest.

“Hey,” she teases, “Don’t go bringing Voldemort into this. But I agree—I don’t hold any resentment to her and honestly she’s never done anything where I’d want to get the claws out. Ugh,” Y/n lets out a mock huff, “You can run into anyone these days.” They share a laugh, walking forward to meet the twins at the corner of the aisle.

They check out, making their way back to the car to load off the bags before heading to another store to pick up some gifts they had ordered online. When they got to the store they made it quick—not wanting to risk catching sight of anyone they knew cause they still had two more places to go and Y/n had yet to wrap all the gifts.

Plus the couple were going on patrol that night. So it was going to be a long day ahead.

The items were picked up and taken back to the car before they drove to their next stop and then eventually the final place which was the grocery store.

Now considering Y/n is the Black Cat, one would think she’d be immune to bad luck right? Well apparently it’s not the case because the trail seemed to lead its way to the store. Why? Oh because not only were the Watson-Jameson family there, but so was a man named Erik Hartsford. A man who interned with Y/n at Oscorp ages ago & had taken a likening to her—but couldn’t take a damn hint. Even after Y/n literally sent him flying into a wall when he tried to kiss her after she refused his advancements.

First order of business for the Parkers: the Jamesons. It was Mary Jane, her husband John, their three kids, and Johns father the one and only J. Jonah Jameson. When the family cut the corner of the produce aisle, Y/n had nearly ran over Peters foot with the cart while trying to stop and back away.

But unfortunately the commotion caught their attention.

“Parker!” J. Jonah yelled. “What er’you doing here?”

Peter wanted to roll his eyes at the obvious but stopped himself. “Same as you Mr. Jameson it looks like—trying to get some last minute stuff for tomorrow.” He gestures to the cart and notices how Mary Jane & John looked like they wanted to leave as much as they did.

Y/n took it as a sign.

“Well we’d love to stay and chat—“ That was a lie. “—but it’s Christmas Eve and don’t want to hold you all up. Bye!” She goes to lead them to the next aisle when a voice stops them.

“Wait!” It was Mary Jane causing the couple to still. They turned back, thinking Mary Jane was ready to get back to her old ways despite her apology the other week to Y/n, but were surprised when she offered them a small smile. “Have a Merry Christmas—and New Year.”

Both of their eyes go wide. Hell even John looks shocked by her words—although also appears to be cheering in silent victory at not having to hold her back from a possible cat fight. Y/n drops her tense posture, as does Peter, and they give Mj a nod in return with Y/n replying, “Merry Christmas to you as well.”

They move to the next aisle—but not without Jameson shouting to Peter he needs to send him the finish product of the Monday issue as soon as possible—and let out breaths of relief. “Holy shit, babe,” Y/n laughs under her breath, looking back to the aisle the Jamesons were on. “There must be some crack in this years holiday spirit to have me have civilized conversations with both Watson and Stacy in the same day.”

“I’m just glad the claws didn’t come out, Cat.”

“Don’t jinx it now, stud.”

Yeah Peter jinxed it cause not even five minutes later both of them were seconds away from having the cops called on them. But it wasn’t because of Mj or even Jameson, no, it was cause of a guy who couldn’t take the hint Y/n was not interested in him from the get go.

Erik Hartsford interned at Oscorp during the time Y/n had under Norman—before she had been referred to Octavius. They didn’t interact much, but he always would admire her from afar and even tried to ask her on a date. Y/n, who was not interested in romance and relationships after her last boyfriend, denied his advancements which only made him upset.

That’s when he tried to kiss her and she knocked his ass into wall before reporting him to HR—he was fired shortly after that. Y/n didn’t see him much once that happened—and during the times she did there was always an easy way to avoid him or she would threaten with violence if he tried anything.

Sometimes he listened, other times he didn’t and found himself with a broken bone or two.

So now nearly 20 years later the man still felt upset at the woman for her denial and for getting him fired. He acted as though he were still in high school with the bully-like attitude. Y/n didn’t care about his feelings at all honestly and would have no problem beating him to a pulp—or getting rid of him for good—but she was better than that. Plus Peter may have beat him up as Spider-Man shortly after he found out.

Erik was no match for the Cat and her Spider.

“Well, well, well,” he taunted as he approached their cart, bidding a glance to the twins who were right behind the couple. Benny and Harry had their arms crossed, glaring daggers at the man as if to say ‘try it, buddy.’ “—If it isn’t Ms. Y/n L/n—.”

“Parker,” she corrected with a sneer. “It’s Mrs. Parker, to you Stevens.” That seemed to make the man upset, Y/n noticing how his fists had clenched. She just rolled her eyes, aware Peter had tightened his grip around her waist and was squaring up. “We don’t have time to play catch up so if you’ll excuse us—.” She goes to move the cart, but his hand catches it to prevent her.

Peter steps forward now, his voice going low while his eyes darken, “Get your hand off our cart, Erik. You don’t want to start something here of all places.”

Erik scoffs and peers at him with challenge. “What’re you gonna do about it, Parker?” He then looks between the two and makes a disgusted look. “Getting your boy-toy to fight battles for you now, Y/n?”

“Oh, Erik,” she mockingly laughs, “My husband knows I can take care of myself. In fact,” she sing songs, “he’s practically granting you mercy—trying to warn you to turn the other way to prevent me from killing you in this store. I’d take his advice.” Her voice went menacingly low and Erik would be lying if he said he didn’t feel chills flow through him at that moment.

But his arrogance and overconfidence just had to get the best of him. “Please,” he huffs, “Like you could really do anything like that.” He didn’t miss how Y/ns eyes seemed to flicker and continued his taunting. “You’re just another weak whore—AGH!” A hand goes to the collar of his shirt and lifts him from the floor.

Peters eyes are filled with fury, practically burning holes through Erik as he starts at him with rage. “If you ever call her that again,” he hisses, tightening his grip while the man wriggles. “—I’ll make sure your medical insurance is put to use with what I have planned for you. I’ll break every bone in your body—twice if I have to.”

Erik grunts, cursing at Peter to put him down, but Peter refuses and continues his threats. It’s not till a soft hand is on his back and Y/n is whispering in his ear that people will be turning into the aisle that he does. Before he lets him go he says, “Don’t you ever come near my wife or family again. Understood?”

“Y-yes. I-I swear I won’t,” Erik stutters out and Peter lets him go, making him stumble when he pushes him back. The man catches himself before he could fall, not even turning back to look at them and goes to leave the aisle.

Peter signs in relief, feeling Y/n wrap her arms around him from behind and leans her chin on his shoulder. “My hero,” she kisses his cheek, voice soft, “I love when you get protective of me—of us.”

“I’d do it any minute of everyday, darling,” Peter tells her, turning his head to kiss her when a annoyed moan leaves Harry.

“Okay, we’re in a store,” he complains, going to push the cart, “no need to be gross. You can save that for the house.” Benny follows behind Harry, picking up items from the list while the couple follow hand in hand behind.

“It’s a crime to be affectionate in this family,” Y/n teases though her gaze is full of fondness. “I can’t wait for the day those two find love and we’re the ones having to tell them to stop being ‘gross.’”

Peter laughs, kissing her temple while the twins lead them the bread aisle. “That will be the day. And you were right about earlier, Y/n. You can run into anyone these days.”

Once the fiasco at the store ended and they were in the comfort of their own home, the Parkers settled down for the evening with dinner and a movie. While the movie played, Y/n addressed the Christmas cards, put the flowers they would be laying on May’s headstone in water to keep them fresh, and even wrapped the last minute presents to put under the tree—in the kitchen of course so they wouldn’t see.

It was nearing the end of the movie and the boys were aware their parents were planning on patrolling so they promised to make sure the house was locked before they went to bed and to turn everything off. It was Christmas Eve so they didn’t know how late they would be out, but knew the boys would more than likely stay up watching Netflix or playing games.

They hoped it would be an easy night, but it’s New York. The city that never sleeps.

At around 10:30 the two suited up and were out the window, but not before the twins told them to be safe and watch each other’s six. After stopping two robberies and a car theft, they found themselves seated on the ledge of a building overlooking the city with Y/n in Peters lap.

“Although it does do things to me when you get so protective,” Y/n had said after they recalled the event in the store earlier that day. Peter felt his lips curl up, hand slowly tracing circles on her thigh.

“I live to please you, darling.”

Y/n let out sigh, leaning more into him with sly grin. “Oh, stud, don’t say things like that—you know how I get.” He just laughs, holding her close to him while they listen for any sounds of trouble below.

It was roughly five minutes later they could hear the shatter of glass, both turning to see a man had just broken through an electronic store the next street over. With a knowing look, Y/n stood from Peters lap—the man following her movements, and they jumped from the roof to swing to the adjacent ones.

Y/n let go of the hold she had on Peter, rolling to the ground and running to the store while Peter swung onto the roof to intercept on the opposite side. Quietly, she snuck her way into the store—keeping low on the ground until she found the masked robber trying to break into the compartment with laptops.

With his back to her, Y/n continued to get close until she was just a few feet away. Pulling herself up with a smirk on her face, Y/n began to clap. The action startled the robber—make him drop the crowbar and bag in his hands.

“You knoooow,” she stopped clapping when he turned, freezing at the sight of her. “You should really work on your stealing skills cause we were able to see you in plain sight—unless that’s what you were going for.” Y/ns tone was less than impressed—which was understandable given she was a cat burglar.

“Cat?” His question made Y/n raise a brow, stepping back with her head tilted.

“What—you know me?” She said with confusion. “I know I had quite the reputation back in the day—but that’s long gone buddy.”

“It’s me—,” the man removed his mask, and Y/ns jaw dropped in surprise. “Robert. We did that one job in Brooklyn like twenty years ago.”

“Robert!” Y/n exclaimed, hand coming up to her chest while her face formed in grin. She couldn’t help the excitement—the situation was just too comical. “Holy shit, man it’s been so long! Wow,” she let out a laugh and completely dropped her defensive stance. “I didn’t think I’d run into you after all this time. How are you—wait,” she stops herself, gears turning in her brain. “I thought you were in prison.”

“Oh I was,” he doesn’t deny it, “got out like a year ago.”

“Ahh,” she hums, and notices how he was glancing at her new get up and how she looked like she was ready to arrest him. It made him stiffen.

“Are you like that Spider-guy now?” He says accusingly, hand already reaching to his pocket—which she sees. “—I heard you changed sides, but went off the grid for over a decade.”

“Oh yeah,” Y/n gives a nonchalant shrug. “The rumors are true—.” Just as the last word leaves her lips Roberts hands and feet are webbed in place making him unable to move. Before he could say ‘what the fuck—,’ his mouth is also webbed shut.

Y/n spins around to see Peter standing with his hands on his hips like a disappointed parent. “I hate to break up this reunion—,” she saw right past his lie, “—but the cops are on their way so we need to skedaddle.”

“Okay, okay,” she raises her hands, but excitedly points to the restrained man. “But Spider look! It’s Robert! You know the guy I did that one job in Brooklyn with before we met. Can you believe it?”

Peter gives a wave to Robert, “Nice to meet you, Robert.” The sirens reached their ears and Peter nodded his head to the window. “Let’s go, trouble.”

“Bye, Robert!” Y/n calls out as she jogs over to Peter, glancing back at the robber. “Try to stay out of trouble in the future! Otherwise we might be running into each other more,” she ended it with a wink, noticing how his head dropped in defeat. Peter took her hand, leading her out the store before taking her by the waist and letting a web haul them up.

Y/ns giggles filled the air, still in disbelief and let their words from earlier in the day flow through the night. “What a turn of events, Spider. You can run into anyone these days!”

………………………………

Tag list: @secretsthathauntus, @eternalharry

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ask-spider-man-61610 · 3 years

Text

One night turned into two. Two turned into a week. When Peter and Emjay had arrived in Las Vegas it was to find the city under total lockdown--police cars roaming every street at sundown, drones buzzing over rooftops night and day, and every road into and out guarded by a toll gate and armed mercenaries. Absolutely nothing about this had been online when they had formed the plan to stop in Vegas. Nor, when Peter tried to email Robbie about this, had his emails made it through. Everything about the Vegas situation was being censored, and the only information that left the city was automatically generated continuations of the drivel that the city usually espoused.

It felt like an experiment, Emjay had opined. A test to see how effectively the CCA could impose a mass censor. So the two of them had booked the cheapest room they could, and Peter had gotten to work collecting information on the lockdown situation, and they'd passed a coded message to Rick, who had put his network to the task of compromising the censor.

It was midnight when a flood of information finally exploded through the internet. Emjay scrolled through her phone with a bouncing leg as she watched the entire world collectively realize that an entire city was being held hostage. Her lip curled into a smile as that news was joined by sightings of Spider-Man, reports filed too quickly to keep up with, and invariable stories of smashed police cars and tanks flipped over like beetles on their backs. Peter worked fast. In less than an hour the cops were in such disarray that the entire force had been forced to withdraw, and casinos across the city had become civilian shelters.

Emjay couldn't help but laugh at the stream of news coming through her phone. Then she clambered off of the bed and set to work packing.

She had her back to the window when she heard it slide open; in the light from outside she could see a humanoid shadow slip inside, gracefully as a butterfly but silently as a spider. The window closed, followed by the blinds, and only then did she hear Peter's voice say, "I've decided I hate Vegas."

Emjay couldn't help but snort. Midway through zipping closed a duffel bag, she extracted an old, well-worn sweater and tossed it behind herself at Peter. "Well it sure loves you," she said, turning around to watch Spider-Man doff his mask and don the frayed garment. "You should see Twitter right now. You're trending again." Peter winced, yanking his gloves off, but she went on, "And the news isn't gonna run out of material for weeks."

"The gates out of the city are taken care of." Grabbing a small plastic case off of the desk, Peter looked into a mirror and began to take out his contact lenses. "There's already a fucking line of cars out of the city. I think we're gonna be able to slip out without being noticed in the rush." As he pushed his glasses onto his face, he glanced over at Emjay, who was looking at him with half-lidded eyes and a soft smile. "...What?"

"We're not in a hurry," she said thoughtfully. "They have no idea where Spider-Man disappeared to. We don't need to, like, run for it."

"I mean, that'd be ideal. But yeah, we're pretty good on t--"

Peter's brow furrowed. The regular thrum of Emjay's heartbeat, both through the floor like a tiny earthquake and through the air like the pulse of a bass speaker, had quickened. Though she smiled still, she twiddled her fingers nervously. Emjay almost never let her nerves show.

"...Are you good, Babe?" he asked, starting towards her.

"Hm? Oh, right." It always took her a moment to remember all the odd, spiderlike ways he perceived the world. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. I just...had an idea. As long as we were in Las Vegas." She couldn't help but giggle, even as Peter gently took her hands in his. "Hey, let's... let's get married. Like the idiots we are. Like idiots in love who ran away to Vegas."

Peter's heart skipped a beat. His hands trembled around Emjay's as their eyes stayed locked.

For a second his mouth opened, though he had no idea what to say. Marriage? Marriage? How many times had he thought about marriage? How many times over the years had he and Emjay made idle conversation, or impassioned pillow talk, or teasing predictions about life together as husband and wife? How many times had they discussed the topic, as serious as the grave?

There was no part of Peter, not a single atom in his body, that didn't want to share the rest of his life with the woman whose eyes he looked into now. But a cold ball of fear fell into his stomach.

"We can't," he whispered.

Emjay's smile shrank to nothing.

"I-I want to," Peter began again, "but we can't. With all we're doing right now? With all I've--" he released one of her hands, gesturing helplessly at the baggage piled by the beds. "With all I've asked you to do?"

Her hands tightened their grip around Peter's. "Yes," she said fiercely. "With all I've done. All we're doing. We're in this together, Peter--we always have been. This would be just making it official."

But a vision, horrific in its clarity, had manifested in Peter's eyes. It was a vision of a woman he had never met, but whose shadow had lingered over Emjay for as long as he'd known her. It wasn't often that Emjay brought up Gayle Watson. She didn't need to. Peter could still see her, sixteen years old, staring down into her coffee and talking about her big sister. Her sister, who had dropped out of college in a whirlwind romance. Her sister, who had thrown away her dreams for love and ended up as a single mother with a life she hated. Perhaps that had been lurking in the back of his mind for a while now.

"But I've--but I've ruined your life," he said, and his focus on her blurred as his eyes grew damp. "You were about to light up Broadway and I dragged you into, into this."

She couldn't help but smile sadly at him, her dimples deepening. Pushing up his glasses, Emjay wiped one of his eyes and said, "Dumbass. You didn't drag me into anything. I chose to come. And when this is over and we go back to New York, Broadway will be waiting for me." She took his face in his hands. "You're not like Timothy. I know what's going on in that noggin of yours. But you're nothing like him."

When they go back...

Another vision, clear as day. A body in his arms, limp, already losing the warmth of life. Her blonde hair splayed across the concrete he knelt on, blood seeping from her nose, her heartbeat gone silent and her neck askew. A boy dying on his knees, coughing up bile, wearing a costume too big for him and with half his face painted green. He could barely see the woman in front of him through the ghosts of failures past.

"I love you," Peter gasped, like a drowning man gasps for air, like a murderer gasps when he sees the blood on his hands. He grasped the hands Emjay had placed on his head, stuck to them, and squeezed as hard as he dared. Crying now, really crying, he whispered, "I love you so much, Mary Jane. I l-love you too much to--to do that to you. I can't. I can't."

And she was crying too. She cried as she stared at him, taking in the naked fear on his face, the look in his eyes as he saw people who weren't there, and the future that might have been. She tried to speak, but at first all that left her was a choked sob. Her brow furrowed in anger as she managed, "You ass." Confusion flashed across Peter's frightened expression. "Y-you self-loathing dork, treating your love like a poison. Treating yourself like something too dangerous to touch. Digging open those wounds and telling yourself you have no right to heal. Well, f-fuck you!"

She did something she hadn't planned to do then, but something that had always brought Peter right back to her. She learned forward and kissed him.

And almost instantly he was returning her kiss with the ardence and the passion of someone coming home from war. Their lips were salty from tears, but neither cared; they melted into each other and their arms entwined into a desperate grasp. Peter's whole body trembled; as if ready to collapse, he sank to his knees, and she followed without breaking contact. Emjay tilted her head a little and pushed herself harder into him, as if her touch alone could show him how much she felt, as though she could communicate all she needed to without words. But when their lips finally separated for air, they remained in their embrace, and words spilled out of her in a rush.

"You're beautiful, Peter Parker," she whispered, her hand in his hair. A tear beaded on her lashes as she stared at him. "You're the most beautiful person I've ever met. You're courageous and determined and altruistic and fierce, and in all the years I've known you none of that has wavered once. You've got so, so much love in you, so much more than you know, but I've--I've seen it and I love it and I love you, I love you more than I know how to share."

Somehow, even through tears, her smile shone like the sun.

"I know the risks. I've always known them. I don't care how dangerous it is to be a part of your life, and you don't get to tell me that I deserve better." Her hand slid down the length of his jaw, and for a second she allowed her thumb to brush over a scar that crisscrossed his cheek. "We face that danger together. We always have, because every second I spend with you is worth it."

Peter stared at her with worship in his eyes. The tears that ran down his cheeks were warmer now, and though the occasional sob still racked his frame the edges of his lips had turned upward. Gently, his hands reached up and took both of hers, lowering them in front of him.

"Ask me again," he breathed.

Emjay begged her heart to beat slowly. Leaning towards him, she said, almost in plea, "Marry me."

His head lowered. Pressing his lips to her hands, Peter sobbed, "Yes. Yes. Oh my god, yes."

There was no ceremony to be had. They had no time, no money, and no social circle to invite. A marriage license was purchased and a thin stack of paperwork was signed; in the Las Vegas Marriage License Bureau, a printer spat out a record of the process and that was that. Less than an hour after the proposal was accepted, the beat-up old car that Emjay called hers was on the road out of the city. It was as mundane as if they had jointly filed taxes.

And yet there was a kind of magic in the unpleasantly warm air of that car. As Emjay turned on the headlights and hummed along to the radio, her husband (her husband!) slouched in the passenger seat, staring over at her with an uncharacteristic softness in his eyes.

"I think this weird little road trip of ours is technically a honeymoon now," Emjay said suddenly, an amused smirk pushing up one of her dimples. "I mean, kind of. I don't think honeymoons are supposed to involve so much possible arrest."

"Only the best ones," Peter joked. He reached over and brushed a curl of dark hair behind Emjay's ear. "It's us, Emjay. I'd expect nothing less."

His wife (his wife! his wife!!) glanced back at him, and finally noticed how he stared as though seeing her for the first time. She made affectionate doe eyes back for a moment before returning her attention to the road. "We are gonna have the most obnoxious wedding when we get home," she said with a grin. "We'll hire a rabbi and we'll rent out a big dumb venue. I'm gonna invite Aunt Anna and Flash and Glory and Debra and basically everyone I've ever worked with. You can invite, like, Robbie and Betty and John and the entire Cluster. Though you might wanna tell them it's a no-spandex occasion." She laughed at her own joke, and Peter fell in love all over again. "God. We need rings."

"I don't think we can afford anything but dollar-store jewelry right now."

"Ehh. I'm an actress. And you're a superhero, half of the shit you say is lying. We'll make it work." She glanced at him again; his stare hadn't changed. "...Pff. Are you planning to look at me like that for the whole drive? I thought your spider-sense hated being in a car."

Peter shrugged. She was right, of course--the tingle in the base of his skull shivered and thrummed incessantly, tracing the vibration of the vehicle and screaming at every piece of detritus they drove by. But like hell was he going to take his eyes off of his wife.

"Hey," he murmured, and his hand reached out to touch her shoulder. "Thank you."

She didn't look away from the road; she didn't need to. But one hand left the steering wheel, just long enough to take his hand and squeeze. "And thank you, Tiger," said Mary Jane Watson-Parker. "For everything."

[Illustration by @sirwolficus]

#Spider-Man #peter x mj #petermj #spider-man au #spidersona #peter parker #mary jane watson #story #odyssey arc

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butwhyduh · 4 years

Text

A Little Box

Dick Grayson x reader

Christmas series 3

Warning: none?

Dick arrived back at your apartment almost late. The traffic had been awful. He pulled off his work tie and walked into your bedroom. You were putting final touches on makeup in front of a vanity. He gave you a tired smile and kissed your hair before grabbing his clothes.

He changed into a cashmere sweater that Bruce had bought him last Christmas and a nice pair of trousers. Most cops couldn’t afford anything like that and he didn’t want to stand out in Bludhaven so he had rarely worn it. But it was perfect for Wayne Manor Christmas dinner.

Dick watched as you stood up and he smiled. You really looked beautiful in a nice blue dress. “What is it, Pretty Bird?” You asked.

“Just admiring the lovely lady in front of me,” Dick said. You smiled. He was always sweet like that. He grabbed his blazer from the closet and pulled it on. You grabbed your coat as well.

The car ride was nice. Dick’s Porsche was warm and he easily maneuvered the soft snow falling on the highway. It was going to be a white Christmas after all.

Well, in Bludhaven. As you neared Gotham it changed to nasty sleet. You wanted to hold his hand but didn’t want to distract him on the nasty roads. This was his home, you reminded himself. He’d driven these roads a billion times. Bludhaven, your home, was snowy. Gotham was wet.

The size of the manor always took your breath away. And with it decked out for Christmas, it was even more beautiful. Dick parked in the giant garage that had many beautiful cars. He held your hand with one hand and slid his other in his pocket.

He felt the box. He certainly didn’t forget about it. There were other presents that he dropped off earlier in the week on a surprisingly nice weather day. But this one had his heart beating quicker.

“You okay, baby?” You asked him with a frown. He realized that he was just standing around like an idiot.

“Yeah. I’m great. Let’s get inside,” he said. You both walked into the house through a side door. There was many and each entrance was just as lovely. A side view of the main staircase framed a tree that had to be 14-16 foot tall stood proud. You could faintly smell cinnamon and some kind of roast meat. There was laughter from the main study. Pre-dinner drinks.

Bruce, Tim, his girlfriend, and Duke were having some sort of lively debate. Damian and his girlfriend were playing chess in the corner. Jason was a no show. It wasn’t a surprise. He rarely showed. And Cass was on the way. Alfred must have been in the kitchen working.

They all welcomed you both as you walked in the room. You sat on a leather couch in front of a gigantic roaring fire. Dick had his hand on your knee, gently rubbing circles.

“I am fine with books to movies but remakes need to stop,” he said. Duke all but gaped.

“I thought you liked the It movies.”

“I did. But most of the others were so bad.”

“We should remake movies that could have been great but were bad,” Tim added. “Like any video game movie pretty much. Like imagine if we started with a Spider-Man game. The movies would be awful.”

“Can we talk about how annoying it is when people think we work like Spider-Man? Like I can’t catch a bus or anything. No one acts like him,” Dick said. Tim and Duke laughed out loud.

“Bro, if there was ever a vigilante asked to ‘do a flip’ it would be you. Throwing himself off buildings to pounce on bad guys? Talks too much in fights? That’s you,” Tim said.

“I don’t-“

“Dinner is served,” Alfred said at the doorway. The conversation stopped as they all moved to the formal dinning room. You sat next to Dick and watched his beautiful profile as he continued to argue with Tim and Duke over Spider-Man. The little hairs that flopped on his forehead. The smile he kept just a moment from showing all the time.

“Hhmm,” a voice said clearing his throat. Jason stood at the doorway with a woman. She appeared nervous.

“Master Jason! You made it,” Alfred said excitedly. “I recieved your message but it’s been many years. Sit. Sit.”

The pair sat across from you and Dick and the table all stared. Jason had a date? In the years that you’d dated Dick, you’d never seen him at Christmas or with a girlfriend, much less both.

“Yeah, it’s Christmas,” he said shrugging.

“Glad you could come,” Dick said with a grin. Damian was whispering to his date. Probably telling her who the heck this man was.

A burgundy mushroom soup was served. The soft clatter of spoons was loud as everyone quietly ate. Bruce kept glancing at Jason and the woman he saw.

Cass showed before the second course was served and hugged everyone including Jason’s mysterious date before declaring that she liked her. It was nice to see everyone at once. Bruce insisted that Alfred share pudding with everyone else and the older seemed quite pleased.

Dick on the other hand was literally sweating. He was forgetful in conversation and his glass of wine lay untouched. He was thinking of that little heavy box in his pocket. He’d talked to you about marriage. You’d had those late night conversations about marriage and children and the future. It wasn’t a surprise that you’d both considered marriage. But to ask in front of his entire family was scary. On Christmas too. He considered chickening out.

“Dick, are you okay? You kinda spaced on us,” you said, putting a hand on his knee. He sat up and smiled. But his eyes were still a little too wide to be casual.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said. This was a great time to do this. A sign from god some would say as the entire family was watching him. His fingers moved rapidly over the box in his pocket.

“Actually,” Dick said a little too loudly. “I... uh, I have a question.”

If everyone wasn’t watching him before, they damn sure was now. You looked at him confused as he took your hand. He was literally panting. “Lovebird, babe. I love you.”

“I love you too,” you said, feeling almost uncomfortable with the attention of the whole table. He wasn’t drunk so what was wrong with him? Cass grinned widely and covered her mouth. Of course, she understood Dick’s body language instantly.

“We’ve kinda talked about this before so I hope it’s not too much of a surprise. But I’d like to talk about forever. Will you marry me,” Dick asked. His blue eyes were so wide and he looked a mess.

“Will I marry you?” You asked shocked like an idiot.

“Oh god, I have a ring,” he said pulling it out of his pocket and handing you the box. You opened it and looked at the ring. “Please say something,” Dick pleaded. The table watched. They couldn’t turn away if they wanted to.

“Yes! Yes,” you said grabbing his face.

“Yes?”

“Yes,” you answered and he kissed you quickly. The table broke out in applause. Dick pulled back slightly to look in your eyes. He clumsily slid the ring on your finger. It was so pretty in the candlelight from the table.

Alfred appeared at the table with champagne a few minutes later and everyone got a glass. Even Damian and his date got a tiny amount for a toast.

You and Dick sat close together all night and you honestly couldn’t tell what anyone else said or did as you just wanted to be with him. It was early in the evening that you retired to his old room as the storm had gotten too bad for a drive back to Bludhaven. No one could blame the love birds for wanting alone time.

#fns #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #christmas series #dc #dick Grayson fluff

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karimac · 3 years

Text

…in the details, Part 3

A/N: Warning for this series: 18+ audience (minors DNI), some cinematic level violence, some fluff and angst. Doubt that smut will be involved, but it may be implied. I’ll make sure that is noted clearly if it pops up.

All relationships, at this point anyway, are platonic.

Please do not repost or translate my work. Likes, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

A bit about the OC Kari

Part 1

Part 2

All mistakes are my own.

Word count: 3,556

Well, that was not exactly the best idea, was it?

Dr. Darcy Lewis, unlike her colleague, Dr. Erik Selvig, was not a big fan nor an authority on any form of mythology. And the Irish history ask was a longshot at best.

So, here you were, in the coffee shop smack dab in the middle of Westview, talking to Dr. Lewis and getting nowhere fast.

“And, that’s not happening,” the astrophysicist grumbled as she set down her phone and took another sip of her beverage. It was some weirdly sweet concoction that looked like what humans thought rainbow-colored unicorn poop looked like. This world was not ready for what real magical beasts looked like. Most authors had not gotten all of that right in their books. No surprise there. No human really needed to see such things on a daily basis, and whoever had been the muses for those authors had covered up a lot.

“I take it Dr. Selvig has no clue on the Celtic Pantheon?” you asked as you sipped your very boring, light, non-sweet hot coffee. The barista probably wanted to laugh when you ordered it, but he did his best to stifle his snicker. “It was a very long reach on my part, Dr. Lewis. I’m sorry I roped you into this.”

“You can call me Darcy because you actually acknowledge my academic status,” the brunette said as she flipped her phone over again. “So, Thor is off in space. You don’t want me calling Falcon or his pal with the metal arm. Captain Marvel isn’t on your contact list. Ant Man and The Wasp? They can be sort of science geeks, right? Wait. Banner? Is he OK to call?”

Before you could open your mouth, Darcy was texting Banner off her own phone. “You know Bruce?”

“I met him at some meet and greet at MIT before the world went poof,” Darcy replied as she set her phone back down and seemed to be praying Banner would actually return her text. “Stark was there, too, but Banner was the one I got coffee with. Sweet guy, you know, even if he gets all green sometimes.”

As you sipped your coffee, you noticed a few people giving you odd looks. It made you very nervous. “Maybe we should finish up and get back on the road?” you asked Darcy as you quietly motioned toward the other patrons getting their daily fix of caffeine.

“Yeah, bubbe isn’t answering me anyway,” Darcy said as she picked up her phone and got up from her chair. By now there were several residents blocking the exit. “What is your problem? We paid. We’re busing our table. Then we’re leaving.”

“Are The Avengers going to hunt her down?” one woman in the back of the group asked as Darcy looked back toward you and mouthed the word “Help” before turning back to the crowd. The questioner was loud, but you couldn’t see her because of the big delivery man standing in front of her with a huge pile of Amazon packages. “Why did you come back?”

It was time to vamp. With an apparently faulty memory, this was going to be interesting.

“Before you all ask about what is going to happen regarding Wanda Maximoff, I want you all to know I have no authority to speak for The Avengers. I have never been a true member of the team. I helped them at a time when things were beyond bleak for this world. It was an honor and a privilege. But I am not a spokesperson. I am not a team leader.”

“Then why did you come here?” a man with glasses, holding a briefcase, asked from the line where he was waiting for his order. “Then and now?”

“I came the first time because I was looking for my friend. I was pulled into that nightmare just like you were. I wish I had been able to help her before any of this happened.”

“But you have powers, right? Couldn’t you have shut her down, hot stuff?” the first woman added as she moved to the front. Then you recognized her. Agatha Harkness. If Wanda kept her alive, there was a reason for it, and all the pain you had rising in your core had to be tamped down fast. Harkness had hurt Wanda, and that would have to be addressed one day. You were good at playing the long game.

“Taking her out in any sort of power stunt could have jeopardized your lives. I was not sure what she did to make it all happen, and I was not going to risk your lives. I’m sorry it wasn’t put to an end sooner. Now, if you will excuse us, we need to get to a meeting regarding the incident here,” you said as you and Darcy pushed through the crowd and back out to the street.

“OK, what was all that? Spin? Or are you remembering something?” Darcy asked as you got back into her car. You had left your rental on the outskirts of town. Better to travel as a unit until your business here was concluded.

“I remember a couple of things from that mess,” you said as you tried to keep your hands from shaking. “I remember Wanda and Vision’s sons. Billy and Tommy. I remember the house where I lived. Can we drive out to where Wanda had her house? Maybe that will help?”

Darcy pulled out of the parking space and made the lefts and rights to the lot where Wanda’s house had been. The one you were living in was in a lot right next to it. It was empty now, too, but you got out of the car anyway and stood in the center of the patch of dirt. You closed your eyes and held your breath as you tried to piece together what had happened. And then you started to cry as you fell to your knees.

“Whoa, slow down,” Darcy said as she ran and knelt beside you. “What did you see?”

“It’s weird. Wanda came over one day and more or less apologized to me because she couldn’t give me my real happy ending. I can show you, if you’ll let me…”

“Go into my mind?” Darcy protested before you could wave her off the idea. “No Vulcan mind melds for me today, thanks.”

“No, I carry this mirror, and you can see memories in it. Trust me, I do not use telepathy as a first line of anything. I tried it once, to help a friend, but it just caused more problems,” you groaned as you pulled the mirror out of your backpack. You waved your hand over it, and Darcy could now see what had happened with Wanda.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t find them and bring them here,” the Sokovian said quietly as she walked around the 1980s version of what was your living room. It was way too pastel for your liking, but the hints of fuchsia, orchid and teal in the overall cream and light gray design weren’t so bad. You had a couple of cats there with you. One was an orange tabby with a penchant for eating tuna at any given moment. He was warm and affectionate and just a ray of sunshine dressed in fur. The other was as white as the driven snow, but his own cuddly disposition came through. He was the one who would leave you weird gifts every morning. Rocks, feathers, and yes, the occasional dead mouse would be at the foot of your bed each sunrise. You’d find out at the end of that nightmare that the cats were only constructs of Wanda’s chaos magic.

“I know you miss the three of them,” she continued as she pointed to a framed picture of Steve, Bucky and Sam, all decked out in appropriate 1980s clothes that made them look like they ran away from some cop drama. “It’s probably better that there aren’t too many Avengers here anyway. Vis is getting concerned. And this way, well, no one needs to know which one you would have chosen. I know. You know. So you can always talk to me. Like we did before. But I gave you the wedding ring to make sure no one came on to you. Just in case I can get him here soon.”

As you showed Darcy the memory, a tiny part of you was screaming that this whole scenario seemed wrong. You watched Wanda’s crimson glow float around you as she spoke. You vaguely remembered The Morrigan trying to kick some sense back into your addled brain, but Wanda’s world was much too enticing to let your other self come to the fore. You wanted the damned happily ever after with the husband and the house and everything that meant in the modern American ethos. You had rationalized things for years in such a way that you’d never let yourself get it. That was why no one was here to hug you at night like Wanda had Vision. Maybe that fact alone was enough to crack Wanda’s hold on you a bit more than she realized?

But you also had to admit that you wanted to be there for Wanda in case things went south. That much was clear from the moment you showed up in Westview the first time.

“How come you didn’t just zap her? Fight back?” Darcy asked as you fully shifted to the present day and paused the memory.

“Because she wasn’t wrong. I did miss Bucky, Steve and Sam. I missed Banner, too, because they were, in the end, the ones still here that cared if I lived or died. And Spider-Man. Which is random and weird, but he did. And frankly, what I said in the coffee shop was true. I had no idea what my powers would do to her spell. I could have leveled the town. That was not an option.”

“So, that Agatha woman…” Darcy started to say and then stopped. “Wait. That was her? In the coffee shop? That was why you were acting so weird?”

“Yeah. Wanda could have killed her or taken Agatha away with her to imprison her. She didn’t. After what Agatha tried to do to Wanda, to try and take her powers, Wanda had every right to finish her off. But Wanda doesn’t likely know all that yet. There are rules set up from ages ago. Things witches can and can’t do to each other under specific circumstances. So Wanda left her trapped here—for now anyway. But, whatever happened with them, it affected me, too. I got hit with stray magic blasts. I’m betting it messed up my powers in ways I didn’t realize. And maybe my memories as well.”

As Darcy knelt there, her phone finally chimed. It was some weird little R2-D2 chirpy beep, and she looked elated as she showed you the message. “Seems Bruce still cares if you are OK or not. I don’t think bringing him here is such a great idea…”

“Did anyone send him data about what happened here?” you asked as you got to your feet, pocketing some of the dirt from the lot before you stood up. “Air and soil samples? Readings from the residents?”

“I can get them for him. Trust me, Jimmy Woo and Monica Rambeau would be more than happy to help. I’m glad that loon Hayward seems to have gone into hiding or was hauled away to The Raft,” Darcy noted as she checked her phone again. “Seems the doc is working out of a Stark lab here in Jersey. Road trip?”

You really didn’t want to go see Bruce. You had no idea how you’d explain any of what you did to him.

++++++++++

You rehearsed what you planned to tell Bruce a million times in your mind as Darcy drove along the Garden State Parkway to a place called Woodcliff Lake. Stark Industries did indeed have a lab there, and it made you want to scream as you walked into the facility. You did not need yet another reminder that you could not save Tony Stark’s life at the end of that final battle with Thanos. That was part of why you were in this mess in the first place. It was also why you had a screaming fight with Stephen Strange, but no one else knew about that yet.

“Dr. Banner? We’re here!” Darcy yelled as you walked toward what had to be the research wing. The lack of security in the place was a bit disturbing, but then again, there were probably booby traps built into every square inch of the place. You could just hear Tony now as you got closer to the lab area. It would likely have been close to the speech you got the first time he talked to you at the compound.

“Hey! Lucky Charms! Don’t touch any of the expensive stuff. I guess that means don’t touch anything. I still have no idea why you are hanging around the team except that Steve wants you here for some reason. Maybe you’re tied to…his friend…and I just don’t want to face that? Still have issues with all of that, even if the man is dead. Pepper and Morgan said I should be nice to you, but I’m not quite there yet after what happened in Berlin. They are better people than I’ll ever be.”

“Earth to Kari?” you finally heard Bruce say as he waved his massive green hand in front of your face. Then he realized why you were likely spacing out. "Dr. Lewis, can we have a minute?”

“You can call me Darcy, if I can call you Bruce?” Lewis said as Banner nodded to her. “Cool. I’ll go find the little scientist’s room and be right back,” she added as she left the lab.

“So,” Bruce started as he pointed you toward a set of chairs at one side of the lab, “Darcy filled me in via text. I have no idea what happened with Wanda, and I know none of us know where she is. I did call a friend who wants to help,” he noted as a swirling circle of yellow light formed near the window that looked out over the parking lot. “I figured you’d listen to him, and he knows more about this stuff than I do.”

“What did you do?” Wong shouted as he exited the portal. “You usually listen to reason. Why did you go after Wanda all alone?”

“I went to help Wanda. She was hurting. She watched Vision die twice. She lost Pietro. I can relate to all that very, very well. My twin Branan died in front of my eyes, too, and I’ve buried two husbands. Both died in battle. I just wanted her to know she wasn’t alone. But she…she hit all my vulnerable points. And she was under attack at the same time. From a woman named Agatha Harkness and from the director of SWORD. Some martinet named Hayward. He built another Vision. I think Hayward was using Wanda’s powers to bring him to life. Darcy is going to check in with some of the people who worked with her to get you more intel, Bruce.”

“Another version of Vision? Great,” Bruce muttered as he looked over at Wong. “As for this Harkness person…”

“The name rings very small bells, so I’ll need to do some research,” Wong noted as you bumped your left fist against your forehead. “What?”

“Harkness is a succubus. And she is old. Not as old as I am, but she is still a good 400 years old, give or take a day. She apparently survived the Salem Witch Trials. Wanda spelled her and left her in Westview. I think she is, at least in small ways, aware that her world is all wrong. I didn’t want to press it when I saw her in that coffee shop. We do not need an angry succubus flying around. Wong, they got into an aerial battle, and Wanda was using sigils, runes, whatever you want to call them, to focus her power. I think she picked that up from good old Aggie. I never showed her anything like that on purpose. I always suspected she had magic in her bones, but it wasn’t my place to start that fire. The bigger issue is that Wanda conjured up two children while she was there. She created cats for me, so anything is possible. I got knocked out by the end of the fight, so I have no idea what exactly happened in the end other than Wanda running off and Agatha being left behind for some reason.”

“And?” Wong asked as he started to look you up and down. “You did a spell? And it went bad? Your aura is all messed up.”

“I…I tried to do a spell so The Avengers would think of me less and less, and then eventually I’d just be a fleeting memory. I felt walking away in the dead of night, the thing I usually do when I am leaving town, would not be good enough. The spell got botched, and now I’m connected in some fashion to Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes. Looking back at it, I spent more time with them in the days leading up to my departure. Steve and Bruce were there the day I left, and so were Sam and Bucky. And…I’m carrying a lot of guilt about Bucky after his accident in 1943.”

“All this on top of the magical circus Wanda made? Are you insane?” Wong yelled as he started to pace.

“And the fight I had with Stephen on the day of the battle. Yeah, I guess I am insane,” you replied as Wong threw up his hands. Bruce had gotten extremely quiet, and that was not a good thing.

“Before we get to dissecting your spell, Kari, was this because of what Tony said? About you not being an Avenger because you were…?”

“Unstable? Yes. And the fact I could not bring anyone back from the grave, especially during that last battle. And the fact about who killed his parents. Buck did while under Hydra control. Steve found out and never told Tony. I ran into The Winter Soldier a few times over the decades, so there was the chance I could have prevented their deaths, too. Tony really had no reason to ask me to join the band.”

“Once we get your spell problem sorted, then we will address this, too,” Bruce said as he looked toward Wong and shook his head. “I loved Tony like a brother, but he was wrong…”

You winced a few times as you tried to listen to Bruce and Wong, now joined once again by Darcy, as they tried to figure out how to fix or reverse that spell, and they hashed out what might have happened to you during that first trip to Westview. You were really trying to focus on their questions, but you felt a tug that no one else could ever have possibly felt.

“Baltimore,” you mumbled as you pulled out your cellphone and debated texting the person you felt tugging at that damned invisible string. No. That would have ended badly, especially since your original spell had gone haywire.

“Bucky Barnes was arrested?” Darcy asked as she showed you her phone alert. “I bet he punched that new fake Cap in the nose. Sorry, but that guy looks like he has no clue. I saw him on Good Morning America. Total cheese fest.”

“Wait. What?” you asked as you took her phone. “Sam didn’t keep the shield? I just hope Bucky didn’t punch Sam and wind up in jail for that!” You gave Darcy back her phone and looked at yours again. It was buzzing. “Anyone here know who the hell is Christina Raynor?” you asked the trio in front of you. No one had any clue about that. You hit the speaker button as you answered the call.

“Hello? Ms. MacOrish. I’m James Barnes’ therapist, Christina Raynor. Sam Wilson said I should give you a call and ask you to join us in Baltimore. As quickly as possible, if you can. I don’t think Mr. Barnes wants to spend the night in a holding cell.”

“Oh no, you are not going to Baltimore,” Wong said as he crossed his arms and got a stern look on his face. “Not while your head is all over the place. You could portal to Baltimore in the 1800s for all you know. You could end up eating lunch with Lord Baltimore in the 1700s. You really shouldn’t do this.”

“Wong, what better place for me to go than to see a therapist?” you said with a smirk as you opened your own portal, this one a lovely shade of emerald green, that went to where Raynor was waiting for you—outside an interrogation room at the city jail.

“Mr. Wilson said you’d be fast. He did not tell me you were one of the powered class,” Raynor said as you went through the portal, looking back to wave briefly as you heard Darcy’s last comment.

“What about your rental car?”

#avengers x oc #bucky barnes x oc #sam wilson x oc #bruce banner x oc #wong x oc #darcy lewis x oc #avengers #bucky barnes #sam wilson #bruce banner #wong mcu #darcy lewis #my mcu oc #my ocs are my babies #my oc writing

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asexy-phoenix · 3 years

Text

the kids are losing their minds

B99/Spiderman: Homecoming crossover fic that's been a WiP for way too long.

Crossposted to Ao3

A/N: I wrote this ages ago, and I'm just now getting around to posting it. So, a) this isn't my best writing ever, and b) this takes place just after Spider-Man: Homecoming and during Brooklyn Nine-Nine Season 2. Also, there are a bunch of perspective shifts because the dialogue in Brooklyn Nine-Nine is super hard to write from just one person's POV, at least for me. Anyway, hope you enjoy, and on with the show!

Title is from "Blitzkrieg Bop"

“NYPD, put your hands up!”

Peter sighed, putting his hands up as two officers approached him. As he was handcuffed and pushed into the car, he whispered, “Karen, don’t alert Mr. Stark.” If she did, Peter knew Mr. Stark would never trust him again, and that was one of the worst things he could imagine.

“Who’s that joker?” Rosa asked, nodding to the perp in the interrogation room.

“I found him behind an abandoned warehouse with four unconscious men,” Jake said. “He won’t talk, and there’s no evidence, but it’s clear he’s responsible somehow.”

“What’s with the suit?”

“No clue,” Jake shrugged. Both cops stared through the one-way glass for a moment, looking at the red and blue spandex-clad suspect, before Jake smirked and dug out his phone. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he asked.

“Perp Hall of Fame?” Rosa asked, smiling as much as she ever did.

“Perp Hall of Fame,” Jake confirmed, snapping several pictures. “I’m thinking he’ll set a new record.”

Peter swallowed hard, his hands handcuffed to the table in front of him. He knew he should have checked his web shooters before he headed out that morning, but he’d never imagined he could have run out of web fluid after beating the bad guys.

He leaned his head back to stare at the ceiling, imagining what Mr. Stark would say when he found out. He’d probably take the suit away again, and Peter hated the idea of that happening. Or worse, he could stop Peter from going on patrol, even as a friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man. That would be the worst.

“Friday, where’s Peter?” Tony asked, flipping up his welding goggles to check the clock. It was five p.m. and Peter should have checked in at least once already, since school ended at three.

“There’s been no communication received from Peter Parker, sir,” Friday said, a hint of apology in her voice.

“None. At all?” Tony asked, already taking off his goggles and tossing them onto a bench as he headed for the door. When he found Peter, that kid was going to be in so much trouble, he told himself.

“Okay, listen, we’re going to have to make him talk somehow.”

“I know, Sergeant,” Jake said, “but he hasn’t said a word since I found him. I don’t know if he’s protecting someone, or what, but his lips are locked!”

Terry frowned. “You know what happened the last time you couldn’t make someone talk, Peralta.”

“I know,” Jake said, wincing at the memory of that weekend, “but I swear that won’t happen this time.”

“It better not,” Rosa said, glaring at Jake. “It’s not just Amy who has a date this weekend.”

Amy stared at Rosa from her desk, eyes wide. “Date? Who said I had a date?” she blurted.

Charles smirked at her from the toaster. “You have your hair curled, you’re wearing lipstick, and you actually turned down the captain’s offer to volunteer at the community league tonight.”

“Nice work, Charles!” Jake laughed, crossing the room to high-five him.

“Okay, fine!” Amy confessed. “I have a date with Teddy.”

Jake almost sighed, restraining himself at the last minute when Charles shot him a knowing glance. “Fine, I’ll find the evidence tonight,” he snapped.

“Good. You’ve got two hours,” Terry told him.

Jake nodded. “Let’s go, Charles,” he said, already heading towards the exit.

Peter watched as the door to the room he was in opened and a tall man who looked like he could probably take Captain America in a fight walked in through the door. “I’ll play nice,” the man said, sitting down across from Peter. “Who’re you working for?”

Peter swallowed hard. He couldn’t talk. If he did, it would ruin everything and he’d get in so much trouble from Aunt May and Mr. Stark and everyone. He shook his head, hoping to convey that he wasn’t working for anyone.

“I’ll ask you again,” the man said, leaning forward slightly, “who’s your boss?” He smiled. “You could get off light, if you co-operate.”

Peter froze. Get off light, that meant he was going to prison! He couldn’t go to prison; that would mean he could never work with the Avengers or get a good job or go to college! He shook his head again, harder.

The man across from him stood up. “Are you making fun of me?” he asked quietly.

Peter kept shaking his head. Even if it was a rhetorical question, he did not want to make this guy mad. Too late. He jumped as the man slammed his hands on the table and leaned back so far he nearly fell out of his chair. “Please don’t kill me!” he squeaked, suddenly more afraid of this guy than he had been of the Vulture.

The man frowned, the anger gone from his tone as he asked, “How old are you?”

Peter sighed. He had talked, no way he wasn’t going to jail. “Fifteen,” he said quietly.

“Take off the mask,” the man ordered.

Peter sighed and did as he was told, and the man’s eyes widened.

Terry almost cursed when he saw the kid’s face. He was young. Even if he was fifteen, like he said, he didn’t look like it. The sight made him irrationally upset. “I’ll be right back,” he said, leaving the interrogation room. “Santiago!” he exclaimed, almost running into her when he opened the door.

“Sir,” Amy said, “the captain wants to see you immediately.”

“All right, Friday,” Tony said, “find me the nearest traffic cam to where Peter’s GPS is transmitting from.”

“Certainly, sir,” Friday said, switching to footage of a police station.

Tony cursed loudly. “The police station?” he asked out loud. “How the hell did the kid get there?”

“Sir, I am scanning all traffic cameras for footage of Peter Parker dated from today,” Friday informed him.

Tony nodded, settling back into his chair and watching the footage as it popped up in front of him. Most of it was pretty mundane; the kid was good at being low-key, Tony thought. Until he ran into a drug deal.

Peter managed to subdue the criminals pretty fast, but when he tried to swing out of sight, he couldn’t produce any webs. “Friday,” Tony asked, watching the grainy footage of the police officers surrounding and arresting Peter, “did he take the web shooters in the lab?”

“Yes, sir,” Friday answered neutrally.

Tony cursed again, longer than before. “Didn’t I tell him not to touch those?” he asked. “Okay, Friday, call Happy, look up any information you can find on those guys and print it out.” He headed for the elevator and his bedroom to change. He couldn’t show up at a police station in an oil-stained Guns ‘n Roses shirt after all.

“I think that suit cost more than me,” Jake whispered to Gina as a man who looked like he’d just stepped off the cover of a magazine walked through the station, straight to Captain Holt’s office.

“That’s because it probably did,” she informed him.

“Thanks.”

“Any time,” Gina smirked as they watched the blinds drop in the captain’s office. “Oh, it’s getting serious up in there,” she said. “Hey, how much you want to bet he’s here about that guy you arrested today?”

“The one dressed like a circus acrobat?” Jake snorted. “No way that guy is that important. I bet you twenty bucks and my lunch for a week.”

Gina laughed. “You don’t have that kind of money. Your lunch for two weeks.”

“Dammit, you’re right,” Jake sighed. “Okay. But if I win, you have to drop the rent for next month.”

“Done,” Gina said smoothly.

Jake narrowed his eyes. “How come you took that so fast? There’s no way you’re going to win this one.”

“I have a feeling,” Gina said, “and I’ve been told I have natural psychic abilities.”

“Whatever.”

The police captain stared at Tony. “You’re the Tony Stark?” he asked.

“Yes,” Tony answered, “and I have to ask you to let Spider-Man go.”

“Spider-Man?” the captain asked, enunciating the words separately. “I can assure you, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Okay,” Tony said, cursing himself and the kid for getting him into this mess, “what about Peter Parker?”

“We have no one by that name here either.”

“Skinny kid,” Tony tried, “around fifteen, looks like he’s twelve?” He stopped as a thought occurred to him. “Probably still dressed in red and blue spandex?”

The captain lifted his phone without looking away from Tony. “Gina,” he said, “can you bring the Sergeant and Peralta in here?”

Peter sighed. Now he’d done it. He stared at the one-way window on the other side of the room, wishing he still had working shooters. If he did, he could escape from here and never be found. Of course, that probably meant he’d have to avoid this area of Brooklyn. It was a shame; he’d liked the view when he was swinging across the rooftops.

He was interrupted from his thoughts by another man coming in and unlocking his handcuffs. “Hi, I’m Detective Jake Peralta. Are you Peter Parker?”

Peter wondered what he should say. “Um, yes,” he said finally, deciding that if he said no, the guy would be able to tell he’s lying since he was a detective

“Good,” the detective said with a smile, ushering him out of the room. “There’s a Mr. Stark here for you.”

“Really?” Peter said, not sure how to feel. Mr. Stark had come to get him, which probably meant he was in a lot of trouble, like take-the-suit-away kind of trouble. On the other hand, Mr. Stark had personally come to get him. On the other, other hand, he’d come to get him when he’d taken the suit away, too.

“Yeah, he seemed kind of worried.” Detective Peralta said, before he grinned. “You should have seen him with the captain. Man, I didn’t think anybody could out-stare Holt!”

“What?” Peter asked, still a little confused.

Detective Peralta shrugged. “He looked kind of like a worried dad. A really, really rich, worried dad.”

Mr. Stark had acted like his dad? Peter smiled a little. Even if he was in trouble, it was nice to hear that.

Tony almost sighed when the kid was brought into the office. He’d end up with completely white hair by the time the kid was twenty at this rate. “Come on, we’re going home,” he said.

Peter at least looked ashamed. “Sorry, sir,” he said, twisting the mask in his hands.

“Come on,” Tony said again, his chest feeling oddly tight as they left the police station and got into the car with Happy.

Once the door closed behind them, Holt stared at Jake. “That’s your major criminal, Peralta?”

“He looked a lot older in the suit!” Jake defended himself.

“Right,” Holt said. He paused for a moment before handing a file to Jake. “This is the information on the men behind the warehouse. This could be a major case for the precinct if it’s handled correctly. Take Santiago and start working on it immediately.”

Jake grinned. “Yes, sir!”

Peter waited until they were driving before he started talking. “Sorry, sir,” he said, looking at his hands. “I’ll give you the suit once we’re back at the Tower.”

“Yes, you should,” Tony agreed.

Of course, he’d known it was coming. Even if it hurt, he deserved it. He’d been given back the suit once he’d proven himself and being arrested by the NYPD was the exact opposite of proving himself. Mr. Stark had been right then, and he was right now.

Peter kept holding onto the mask as the car rolled through New York. He’d hold onto it until the last possible minute.

Tony rolled his eyes as the kid stared out the window. “Kid, are you listening to me?” he asked.

“Sorry, Mr. Stark,” Peter apologized again, and this time Tony did sigh.

“You’re not listening to me.” He cut off Peter’s apology. “Okay, from the top. One, I’m fixing your web-shooters, two, you’re staying away from any drug deals you come across from now on until you’re at least twenty-five, and three, tell me the next time you take anything from the lab.”

Peter stared at him, and Tony cursed himself mentally. He was starting to sound like a dad. Not his own dad, but definitely a dad. “You’re not taking the suit away?” the kid asked.

“Only to fix the web-shooters,” Tony said again. He started to say something else, but was cut off by a lap full of person.

“Thanks,” Peter muttered into Tony’s chest, the rest of his words a quiet mumble.

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Did you just call me, ‘dad’?” he asked.

Peter shrugged, still holding onto Tony.

Tony felt the tight feeling in his chest dissipate as he hugged Peter back. “It’s okay, kid,” he said.

#spiderman #brooklyn 99 #fanfiction

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vanaera · 4 years

Text

𝐌𝐲 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞 | 𝟎𝟐 | 𝐣𝐣𝐤

Synopsis: A future technology allows cops to jump in the past and future to investigate crimes that have happened and prepare for those that are about to happen. A simple hit-and-run turns into something more when Captain Jeon Jungkook finds himself as the victim of a culprit who cannot be identified by the system. Especially when the culprit seems to be the same person behind the new case that’s threatening the order in the justice organization. All goes haywire when Jungkook gets involved with Y/N L/N, the clairvoyant sketch artist who may be his only help to solve the case.

Characters: Jungkook x Female Reader

Genre/AU: Sci-fi, romance, angst, mystery, action (cop!JK x artist!you), based on the movie Minority Report

Wordcount: 8.2k

Warnings: Dark themes and implied smut (in future chapters); heavy descriptions of a hit-and-run; mentions of blood from injuries (PG-16 Rating)

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𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭

The skies were gray and the streets were damp and yet the air remains humid. The scorching heat on the pavement permeates the soles of his leather combat boots. It’s the familiar stench of Down Hill. Jungkook could already smell it when he’s just reaching the boundary between it and Middle Town.

Jungkook looks down at the scrap of paper that’s been in his pocket since the day started. Namjoon had to write the address of this Y/N L/N, lest DOJ traces his electronic trail and take him in for unnecessary questioning. Jungkook himself had to make up some petty excuse of a “hurting arm” to file a day-off. He just hopes all of this spent effort will worth him something.

Jungkook nears the 7-Eleven sitting in the fork of the streets. Namjoon wrote Y/N’s studio is cramped among the apartments around this area. He said she never really penned down a home to accommodate covert meet-ups like this. All she has is her studio.

In “Mini Palais, 23-B,” Jungkook mutters again, huffing in front of a door with cracking cadet blue paint. He finds the unit after climbing up a series of stairs at the end of the alleyway jammed between the decaying 7-Eleven and a battered motor shop. Jungkook raises his hand to knock when the door bursts open.

In front of him is a girl. Namjoon already said so and although Jungkook thinks it’s accurate enough for the girl who’s looking up at him through chopped raven bangs, it also wasn’t really enough to describe her. Because the girl in front of him was an aberrant mix of a girl and a woman. Jungkook thinks she’s around her early thirties if he were to consider Namjoon’s history of working with her for about ten years in FJO. There are faint lines around her eyes to support that. However, her relatively small height, plump cheeks, and the natural rosy hue of her lips beg to decrease ten years off that supposed age. With her youthful face, messy half-bun, and the white, floral off-shoulder dress flowing past her knees, no one will argue with Jungkook if he were to say she’s just 22.

“Who are you?”

“Oh, um,” Jungkook flashes his badge, “I’m Jungkook Jeon, a captain in the Federal Justice Organization. Precrime, Murder sector. I’m here to um, avail your…services for a case.”

The girl cocks her head to the side and gives him a once over. “I’m sorry, I don’t do services for the FJO anymore.” She moves to close the door but Jungkook was quick to block a foot between it and the wall.

“I’m a contact of Namjoon’s!” Jungkook exclaims, “He’s Lieutenant Seokjin Kim’s close subordinate.” This is a card he didn’t want to use but it looks like he has no other choice left. Jungkook clears his throat. “Actually, I’m a very close contact of Namjoon. We’re best friends. I even live with him. He’s the one who told me to, um, consult you for the case I’m handling.”

The girl opens the door an inch. Jungkook hands a folded paper to her. She spreads it open and scans through the letter. Jungkook doesn’t know what it actually says. Namjoon just thrust it into his hands on his way out and told him not to open it. It must be an effective personal request because by the time the girl reaches the end, she’s pushing her door wide open, tilting her head to the side, beckoning him to come inside. However, her face remains grim.

“I’m Y/N L/N. This is my studio. I know you already know I prefer to transact business here even for ones intended to be covert. So first off, I want to say I’m sorry you have to travel to such a place like this.”

Jungkook shakes his head, “Oh no, it’s definitely alright—”

“I kinda think it’s not when you grew up in a comfortable life. You must be quite shaken up.”

Jungkook freezes. Y/N looks at him, “Oh, I didn’t look into you or something. It’s just a hypothetical guess, seeing your,” she motions to his silver watch. “That’s expensive. No one from here will be able to afford it anytime soon.”

Jungkook’s shoulders turn lax. Y/N points to a chair next to a table in the corner. “Just wait there. I’m about to finish this piece in just a sec. Then I’m all yours.”

Jungkook nods and makes himself comfortable on the seat. Unlike its appearance on the outside, Y/N’s unit is not much of a concrete wreck. It still looks a bit rough. The ceiling has cracks all over it. A small white bulb precariously hangs on its center. It looks too weak to illuminate the whole room when the night comes. Jungkook thinks it’s a good thing that the unit has huge gaping rectangular windows to let in the natural light. The floor is cemented in gray but the work on it is unimpressive as there are numerous uneven layers, rough patches, and dents that could only be ascribed to poor mason work. The white wallpaper is torn around, some even wet at the edges—probably due to a leak during rains.

However, the flowers painted on them is vibrant enough to uplift the dreary unit. Paintings are littered around. Many are big, a few are small. Some were seated on easels, several are just laying around on the floor. Newspapers are strewn across the majority of the floor. Buckets and tin cans of paints line up the corners like a prayer circle.

All the colors present in the room can only be attributed to the paint that’s strewn across the newspapers, the paintings, and the 6’ tall canvas of an owl in flight Y/N is currently working on. The girl is standing on a small foldable ladder, painting the feathers of the bird at the top of the canvas. When the wind blows her hair to the side, Jungkook finds a mirage of colors on the scarlet spider lilies inked on her spine.

After about two minutes, Y/N steps down and dumps her brush into a rusted bucket filled with water. She turns to the man on the chair and makes her way to the stool opposite his. She fixes down her dress and finally looks at Jungkook. “So, what case do you have for me?”

“This,” Jungkook slides a couple of pictures toward her. They are the screen captures from the CCTV records that caught the black Jaguar. “There’s an unknown driver who’s doing an illegal time jump patterned to Precrime’s traveling agents. We tried to run in the license plate but it just turned to be ‘invalid.’ All we know is that the suspect is male, slim, and tall. He’s interested in the Winston Assassination, and has probably inside ties in FJO since he easily entered the Special Operations Building just ten days ago.”

“None of the traveling agents has seen this man before? Precrime or Forecrime?”

Jungkook shakes his head.

Y/N licks a finger and flips to the next picture, “What about the car?”

“None of the agents has seen a suspicious sedan sports Jaguar before. It’s the first time we have someone presumably well-to-do threatening the justice system.”

Y/N nods. Jungkook inserts his hand into his pocket and retrieves a black USB. He hands it to the girl. “Here’s more of the screenshots from the CCTVs, taken in each second. I can’t give you the CCTVs because of the protocol. I can only give you these. Just imagine they’re moving,” Jungkook purses his lips as he looks at the girl. “I want you to identify this man for me.”

Y/N tucks the USB into her dress’ pocket. She slides the pictures back to Jungkook. “This seems to be a heavy identification check then. Not that I couldn’t handle, of course. However, Namjoon must have told you that my rates are quite high—”

“Money is not a problem.”

Y/N cocks a brow, “So you did grow up a comfortable life.”

Jungkook clenches his jaw.

Y/N chuckles, “Okay, I’m not gonna dwell on it more. It’s settled then. Send your weekly payment to this account,” Y/N tears a piece from the rolls of paper by her side, scribbles on it, and hands it to him. “Every Friday, 10 AM sharp.” Jungkook looks at the paper before tucking it in the breast pocket of his leather jacket.

Y/N crosses her arms, “We can start next week after you give me the downpayment.”

Jungkook zips open a duffel bag and places a stack of bills on the table.

“Eager, aren’t we?” Y/N smiles, “I like that.” She flips through the bills before deciding they’re legitimate and dumping it into a box by her feet.

Y/N turns to him. “Now, where are we? Oh—you must already know, but what I really do here is foreseeing the future for whatever cause you have. It’s not just trivial fortune-telling but a purposive one. I can accurately give you whatever you want to know.”

Jungkook nods. Y/N’s leans forward on the table. “I’ll be honest with you. I don’t really have terms and conditions with my clients. Or any contract to ensure them their protection, as what I do tend to…increase risks. Emotional security and mental stability on your part. Those two and physical toll on mine. It will be absurd to provide any contract as what I am doing is anything but guaranteeing protection. I can’t also be fully transparent about the mechanisms behind the things I will do for you. Otherwise, my gift won’t work. What I can only assure is I’ll never proceed on any memories you have set boundaries on. Should you decide to stop this negotiation anywhere in the future, I will automatically concede and keep the confidentiality of whatever that may happen. As long as on your part, you won’t consider asking for a refund.”

“I understand.”

“Good,” Y/N smiles, “Now first things first. Tell me any hurting point you have.”

Jungkook goes stiff. “Is this actually necessary?”

Y/N nods. “I know this is a tough question, but we’re talking about memories here.”

“I know but I can’t just divulge them to a stranger—"

“I think you don’t get what I’m saying.” Y/N lets out a humorless chuckle. “Look, Jungkook, when I attempt to see the future concerning this elusive driver you’re after, it is inevitable for the past to re-appear. There is no future without any past. Your past memories can clog up with the ones involved in the case because you are in the case. You’re heading it. Good or bad, memories will come up. That’s their thing. They spring up at the most inconvenient times. No matter how old they already are. No matter how long you must have already moved on from them. Memories demand to be remembered and you cannot just disregard them even if you will it to because it never gave anyone a choice to do otherwise. So, if you don’t set the boundaries on the memories you don’t want me to cross, I’ll just see everything in their utter unadulterated form.” Y/N leans forward, “And I can assure you, you don’t want that to happen.”

Jungkook prods his cheek with his tongue. “Fine. I’ll give you my hurting point and that’s that. No further questions.”

“Okay.”

Jungkook digs in his back pocket for his wallet and flips it open. There’s a tattered white edge of a picture peeking through the flaps. It’s been years since he pulled it out. Its replica, now tucked in his shelf, has prevented him from doing so for so many years. Jungkook closes his eyes and slides it toward the girl. “This boy. Anything that concerns him, I don’t want you to cross or even bring up. Understand?”

“Okay.” Y/N hands back the photo to him. “We go to the second step then. You must already have your assumed suspects. Tell me their names.”

Jungkook draws back. “I can’t tell you that, that’s highly classified information. FJO’s protocol doesn’t allow it and—”

“Do you seeking my help part of the protocol?”

Jungkook looks down, “No.”

“Right. So, tell me their names. I need to know them to make a memory map.”

Jungkook’s brows meet “A what?”

“A memory map,” Y/N repeats, “It’s something I make to identify points of certain memories in time. It guides me to the memories I need to tread to reach what I’m really looking for. It’s like a demo version of Forecrime’s box trainings but except of a machine, I’m doing it manually by hand. For all we know, the real suspect must be close to these suspects.”

Jungkook’s brow quirks up.

Y/N leans forward, “So, tell me their names?”

Jungkook turns his face away from her, looking at his clasped hands. “Well, I…only have one.”

“And that is?”

“Leigh Anderson. Winston’s assassin. FJO has been after him for 17 years. He also has a number of sponsors who’s been sending him missions with promises of large sums of money. But most of all, he’s rumored to have access to time jumping technologies. Illegal of course. FJO is the only one licensed to be utilizing them.”

“That’s good,” Y/N quips. “Do you have any pictures of him?”

Jungkook turns to his duffel bag and retrieves a picture. It’s Anderson in the scene of Winston’s murder that FJO has pinned to their system. The one in the crime record Jungkook produced. He hands it to Y/N. “Is this enough?”

“More than enough,” Y/N smiles. She stands up and walks to one of her cupboards, reaching for a ceramic bowl. She pours some tap water in it and turns back to the table, a short, white candle in hand. She places the candle on the water, letting it float. She retrieves a lighter from her dress pocket and lights up the wick of the candle.

Y/N puts her palms open on the table. “Let’s start now. Do you have your clicker with you?”

Jungkook’s brows meet. “What?”

“Your time jumper,” Y/N grits.

Jungkook looks at her incredulously. “I don’t see any reason why would you need it—”

“We’re going to the past to have a tangible memory to start on my memory map.” Before Jungkook could tear himself away from the table, Y/N launches forward and snatches the small, black device hanging on the man’s belt loop. Jungkook shoots an arm out and grabs onto it.

But it’s too late. Y/N’s already pushed the button.

The air is knocked out of Jungkook’s windpipe. A numbing pain starts to settle on his chest, a migraine forming on his temple. His limbs also feel stone-heavy. Precrime traveling has always been like this and yet Jungkook can never get used to it. However, he’s not left wondering about it for long because in the next second, Jungkook’s standing in front of a dark road. Tall shrubs and trees shadowing the moon, CCTVs mounted on the lamp posts lining the concrete. It’s Somerset Road.

Jungkook’s eyes widen. Why is he here? He tries to move but his limbs are stuck by his side, unmoving as he grunts. He tries to take a step back but the effort is futile when his feet are seemingly glued onto the dark asphalt. Jungkook sighs and turns to the road in front of him again. And this time around, Jungkook’s mouth falls ajar.

Y/N is standing idly at the other side of the road, opposite of him.

“H-how did you travel here—”

A car zooms past. Jungkook turns his head to the sound. The air is punched out from his esophagus. It’s his car—the silver-gray Ford. And there at the other end of the road emerges a black sedan sports Jaguar. The Jaguar speeds on and drives into the Ford, swerving it around, tires screeching loud on the pavement. It topples down, rolling around, then round, and round. Three times, Jungkook counted. Just like the CCTV Hoseok retrieved. The Ford stops, upside down. The black Jaguar zips past it. Like the CCTVs have shown, the Jaguar reaches the other end of the street and disappears. A second passes. The body of the driver in the car drops onto the cold pavement. It lolls his head to his side, bloodied face turned towards the man standing on the pavement.

Jungkook’s facing right into his past. He isn’t reliving the memory. He is living it. There’s no anger but pain. Fresh, unadulterated pain that cannot be accounted to the lacerations on his injured arm.

The wind howls. Jungkook remains frozen in his position. Then suddenly, everything stops—the distant honking of the cars, the wind, the clatter of the crushed car pieces falling onto the ground. What the fuck is happening? Jungkook turns around, only to come face to face with the girl.

Y/N’s arm shoots forward and fists the collar of his leather jacket, pulling him down to her level. “You didn’t say this business is personal!”

“It’s not a big deal,” Jungkook spits, tearing her hand off him.

“It is, Jungkook! You said you were involved. I didn’t think it was this level of involved!”

“It doesn’t change any fact that I’m still going to be involved either way! I’m still going to head this case because it’s tied with Winston. What difference does it make if I am the victim of this fucking man?!”

“A lot!” Y/N screams. Jungkook stops. Y/N sighs, “It does a lot of difference, Jungkook. We’re already risking a lot in this until it turns out you’re a focal point in this case! You’re a fucking victim of this culprit! A conflict of interest is highly possible. You will be unable disassociate yourself from this and objectively investigate this case—”

“I don’t need you telling me what I should do or not, Y/N.” Jungkook steps forward to the girl. “I know what I’m doing. And I know it when I say I can investigate this following all the legal protocols.”

Y/N tilts her head. “How can you say that when you’ve just been face-to-face with your past self?”

Before Jungkook can say anything, Y/N closes her eyes and clicks her finger. In just one second, everything around Jungkook falls beneath his feet—the trees, Somerset Road, his bloodied self. It rips themselves off from his senses until all he could see again is the dilapidated atelier, the barren ceilings, and, Y/N.

Jungkook hunches over, coughing as air fills his lungs again. “H-how could you do that?”

Y/N blows off the candle. “My gift.” She glances at the man. “The accident is taking a serious toll on you. I have to take us out of the time jump.”

Jungkook sits back and glowers at her. “N-no, what I’m asking about is—how could you snatch my clicker and make a jump without any remorse? You do know that’s illegal!”

“I know. ‘FJO’s traveling agents and officials are the only ones allowed by the law to engage in time jumping activities’ yaddah yaddah bullshit.” Y/N leans on the table, face hovering the Captain’s. “But involving a then-law practitioner, much more an outsider like me, into your case is also illegal. I have my gift, yes. But I can only see the future and I won’t be able to see it accurately if I don’t have some sense of the past. Plus, I have no other pragmatic choice to start this case on the right foot. I already saw the future of our negotiation before you sat down on that stool. There’s nothing else I could say other than it didn’t end favorably for any of us.” Y/N turns back to the table she’s clearing, “Not that it’s any different now. Especially when I just learned the case you’ve showed me is more personal than you presented it to be.”

Jungkook purses his lips. He stands up, gathers his things, and wordlessly makes his way out of the atelier. He didn’t bid the girl any farewell.

“Looks like you haven’t been sleeping.”

Jungkook looks up at his friend before looking down at his crossed arms, turning his attention back to his mug of coffee.

Namjoon takes a seat cross Jungkook. “Did something happen?” He twirls the tea bag around his own mug, “Care to tell why you’ve been sporting those dark eye bags since two days ago?”

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing when the doctor precisely told you to have a healthy lifestyle to help your wound heal faster.”

Jungkook looks at Namjoon.

Namjoon points to his bandaged arm, “It indeed doesn’t look it’s healing fast like it’s supposed to.”

Jungkook sighs. “Fine, you caught me.” He purses his lips then looks at his friend, “I’ve been wondering. You know our clickers are designed to identify the agent it was assigned to before it could work. But, is it…possible for clickers to work on someone that doesn’t belong to FJO as long as someone from FJO is present?”

Namjoon keeps his gaze on him. A look of surprise seems to wash over his face. But it soon gets replaced by a look of recognition. Namjoon places the tea bag onto the saucer on his left. “I see you already met Y/N.”

“Y-you knew that about her?”

“I do,” Namjoon mutters over his cup of tea. “I learned it when the Bureau looked into the Linton Park serial murders. Seokjin’s team, including me, followed the memory map she made for us—a trail of memories that specifically belongs to anything related to the murders. But then, we hit a dead-end for the supposed next victim. Can’t identify her. We only had images of flashing movement—blood splattering in a barn, people running on a green field. There are just cops and a woman.”

Namjoon places down his cup, “And so, Y/N told me she needed me to help her make a time jump in the past. I pressed on the clicker and,” Namjoon shrugs, “Y/N successfully made the jump. And also successfully return with the info of the victim—a girl working on a farm. Y/N tied it to the flashing images of the field and deduced the running was not about us chasing a murderer’s accomplice. But us running after a victim before Linton could. It was hard to tell at first why the victim is running away from us. Until we learned through Y/N she was an illegal immigrant.”

Namjoon pulls his lips into a tight smile. “I think it’s an additional gift. But at the same time, it’s also a setback. A rightful one at that. Y/N’s inability to time jump in the past unless with a clicker a meter radius within her balances the power of her future-seeing gift. She still needs to rely on the system even if her gift for the future is, hypothetically, unbound from any constraints.” Namjoon takes a sip of his tea. “How ‘bout you? How did you learn this…extra ability of hers?”

“She snatched my clicker from me,” Jungkook leans back in his seat. “She said she needed a ‘tangible memory’ to start on her memory map. She ended up thrusting us back into the time of my car accident.”

Namjoon freezes. “Excuse me? Did you say ‘us’?”

Jungkook’s forehead furrows, “Yeah. We did the jump together, that’s why I’m asking you about this thing with the clickers.”

“Jungkook, she never did that before.”

Jungkook’s brows shoot up. “What?”

Namjoon scratches his nape, face scrunched up. “When she asked me to let her jump through my clicker, she didn’t take me along with the jump. It’s only her. Like it should always be as one clicker is only for one user. It’s always been like this in all the situations she asked me for a time jump in the past.” Namjoon looks at him, “I don’t know why you got in the same loop as her.”

The night was quiet but devoid of peace. Like an ugly pause in a running film that’s just about to unwind the questions they laid at the start. Even after intaking his blue pills, Jungkook finds it difficult to close his eyes shut.

“Big brother!”

Jungkook turns around. The small boy stands on his tiptoes, small arms reaching for him. Jungkook smiles, “You want to climb on my back again, Daehyun?”

“Yes!” Daehyun giggles.

“Alright then,” Jungkook crouches in front of him and Daehyun’s squeals grow louder as he loops his stubby arms around Jungkook’s neck. Jungkook stands up, securing the boy’s short legs around his torso. “Ready for some wind, big boy?” He asks. Daehyun nods frantically and soon, Jungkook is zooming on the green field, turning the heads of the children and volunteers in the park. But all Jungkook could hear was Daehyun’s laughter filling the nice summer afternoon. It brings a huge smile on Jungkook’s face.

Then—flashing blue and red lights. Cold pavement. A lone school bus standing in the middle. Its yellowness highlighted by the police’s yellow tape surrounding the area. Reporters dot every possible space on the crossroad. “Shooter on the loose.” “Poor child.” “Blood splattered on the seats.” But all Jungkook could hear is the white noise of the chattering. And the call of “Big brother!” he’ll never hear anymore.

Jungkook jolts awake. He sighs, closing his eyes. “It’s all in the past,” he mutters repeatedly under his breath. But no matter how many times he repeats it, it doesn’t shake off the horror he’s reeling in. He’s had this dream again and again for eight years straight. He should be already accustomed to it.

Jungkook sits up straight. He turns back to his computer and sees a couple of pictures open on the desktop. It was the screenshots of the CCTVs Yoongi gave them. He looks at the top of his desk. His notes empty of anything new other than Leigh Anderson’s name webbed next to an un-filled space for sponsors. Jungkook covers his face with his palms and yawns. Just then a series of text messages come in.

Unknown: This is Y/N. I know we left on bad terms three days ago. I’m the one to blame for that for overreacting. I’m sorry. It’s been a while since I’ve done a case for FJO. I’m still kinda hung up separating personal services from investigative ones. (2:13 P.M.)

Unknown: Nevertheless, I hope you’re free this day. Meet me at Somerset Road. 3 P.M. I don’t want you to waste the money you gave me yesterday (2:13 P.M.)

Somerset Road is a thirty-minute drive from the FJO Main Headquarters. However, it didn’t feel like it when Jungkook parks his car on the side road. It seemed like hours have gone by when the sun is about to set in the alcove of trees in the distance. It’s just three in the afternoon. Jungkook steps outside and shuts the door. From his position, he could make out a girl in ripped black denim pants and black tank layered with a pink see-through mesh shirt. From the striking red of the spider lilies on the top of her spine, Jungkook could tell it was Y/N. He almost didn’t recognize her. He wouldn’t know she has an undercut had her high ponytail didn’t highlight it.

The girl turns around and looks at him. “You’re late.”

“I have to bribe the Maintenance Office first to give me this afternoon’s CCTVs when we’re done.” Jungkook strides toward her, “How did you get my number?”

“Namjoon.”

Jungkook cocks a brow.

Y/N shrugs, “he wrote it in the letter you gave me. Should you, quote-unquote, be ‘difficult to deal with.’”

Jungkook keeps his lips in a straight line.

Y/N rocks on her toes, hands in her pocket. “Let’s get straight to it then. Take your clicker out and push it.”

“What are you intending to do—”

“A time jump.”

“Of course, I know that. What other purpose do we use our time jumps for?” Jungkook spits. “What I want to know is what we’re supposed to be doing first before I follow whatever you want me to do because I cannot just blindly trust you with this—”

Y/N turns her head to him, one brow cocked up, “Didn’t I tell you before I don’t fancy How-What-Why-Whatever questions to what I do or else my gift won’t work?”

“Yes, but—”

“Look, will you just push it or do you want me to snatch it from you again?” Y/N takes a step closer to him, leveling his eyes with hers. “I already did a read for today. I know its new hiding place.”

Jungkook remains unmoving in his stance.

Y/N crosses her arms. “If it would assure you, this session won’t end taxingly fruitless like the last time. I’m positive we’ll get something by the end of today.”

“How did you know?”

“I told you, I did a read for today. I saw you with an astounded face and me with a happy and proud smile. Obviously, we must have ended up finding something.”

Jungkook is still unconvinced.

Y/N sighs, “If you don’t want to do anything of what I can offer you, you know you can just terminate our connection anytime you want. Just so you know you can’t refund the 10,000 zials you gave me for the downpayment.”

Jungkook keeps his gaze on her. A couple of seconds pass before he sighs and shakes his head as he takes out his issued clicker tucked in the breast pocket of his leather jacket.

Y/N smirks. “See? You know you’re gonna need me in the end and you still try to put up an unnecessary fight.”

Jungkook grunts. He turns the clicker’s indicator to “1-2 weeks” timeframe and pushes the button.

It was just like their previous time jump—like any other Precrime time jump. It felt like nothing yet also everything at the same time. An amalgamation of sensations and perceptions flashing in front of him in the blink of an eye as he is transported back to the night of his accident. Jungkook looks down at his feet. He’s back to where he last stood at—the left side of the road next to the corner where his car will come from. Jungkook turns to his left and he almost jumps in shock. Unlike their last jump, Y/N is no longer on the opposite side of the road, but beside him, shoulders almost bumping his. Jungkook takes a staggering step away from her.

Even if Namjoon laid everything he knows about Y/N’s skills yesterday, Jungkook still finds it hard to accept that a clairvoyant is able to look into the past with such effortless access. Aren’t they only supposed to see the future?

“What are you looking at?”

Jungkook tears his gaze away from her. “Nothing.”

“Thought so, too,” Y/N quips. “We’re here to work after all. Not ogle at each other.”

Jungkook tongues his cheek. He’s not left to his frustration for long as after a second, the burning of tires on the asphalt is heard on their side of the road. A silver-gray Ford appears and it zooms past them in a flash. A black Jaguar subsequently shows up on the other side, its form nearing them each millisecond that passes. It’s only time ‘til the two crashes and sends Jungkook’s car rolling three times on the road.

But, it didn’t happen. The howls of the wind stop. The screeching of the tires halts in awkward silence. And the cars are frozen still. The Jaguar’s bumper and Ford’s right door are separated by a mere inch. It’s the second before the accident happens. Paused in a picture-like frame as if someone hit the pause icon on a video.

Jungkook whips his head to his side. Y/N has her palm closed in a post-click of her thumb and middle fingers. Jungkook feels his throat clog up, “H-how did you do that?”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Told you before, it’s because of my gift. And it’s also just seconds ago I told you I don’t like questions about how my gift works.” Y/N steps away from him and onto the road. “Follow me.”

Jungkook silently follows behind. It’s only a matter of seconds that they reach the side of the door of the silver-gray Ford. Jungkook lets his fingers touch on the coated metal. It felt cold on his flesh. Solid. Real. Jungkook can’t help but be astonished. This is no regular time jump. Totally unlike the first one he did with the woman. For this time, Jungkook doesn’t feel he’s living the film of the scene, just like any of the standard Precrime time jumping. This time, Jungkook feels he’s in the scene. Not in a film, not like the virtual reality experienced by Forecrime agents. But in real-time.

“Take your hands off your car.”

Jungkook tears his hands away from his car. He looks at the girl. Y/N gives him a pointed look, “I know this time jump doesn’t feel like the standard time jumps of Precrime so you may be astounded with,” she motions around them, “all of this. But I prefer you not to get too overwhelmed. We’re here for work.”

Jungkook nods, reluctant. Y/N walks further into the side of the road, now a foot away from the spot where the cars should crash. Jungkook quickly follows behind. When he’s by an arms-length away from her, he faces back to the scene in front of him. And then, Y/N clicks her hand.

The trees sway again. The winds continue their violent gush on the road. And the cars collide. The film is playing again.

But then, Y/N clicks her fingers. The scene stops, frozen yet again. The bumper of the Jaguar has dug into the Ford’s door, crushing the metal with its momentum. The side mirror is broken, glass shards shattering in mid-air.

“Come here,” Y/N beckons. Jungkook walks close behind as Y/N stops by the point of intersection of the two cars. From their position, Jungkook could see the past him hunched over on the wheel, seat belt digging into his torso. The window by his side is broken, a splotch of blood marring the clear glass. And on his right, Jungkook could see the driver of the black Jaguar. Non-existent.

Y/N looks at him, “So we know the man you’re after is doing an illegal time jump similar to the pattern of Precrime’s traveling agents. But what you don’t know is: he’s a professional.”

“W-what?”

“Look,” Y/N flicks her wrist and makes an anti-clockwise motion of her hand. The sound goes void again and the cars back away from each other in slow motion. Jungkook’s brows shoot up. The scene is rewinding. Y/N is turning back the time before the Jaguar collided into the Ford. And then, Y/N moves her arm horizontally to her left and clicks her fingers. The Jaguar moves forward again, but slowly this time. Jungkook could see the silhouette of the driver with arms taut on the wheel disappearing into a cloud of smoke until it turns no more but a nonexistent person on the seat as it hits the door of the Ford.

Y/N clicks her fingers and the scene pauses. “As you saw, it only took the driver,” she glances at her watch, “ten seconds before completely disappearing into his time jump. From how fast he disappeared, we could say it only took him twenty seconds in total to make the entire jump. I can only deduce this as the memories we have are short of the time we could see him in his solid form. The same way goes for the CCTVs you gathered. It only captured the last ten seconds of the whole accident. The Jaguar nonexistent in the frame from 20:23:39 and anything beyond before that time mark. The CCTVs only showed the Jaguar from 20:23:40 to exactly 20:24. The last 10 seconds, devoid of any driver.”

The girl continues, “Now, to be able to completely vanish in just 20 seconds, you must be a professional in time jumping in the past. Which can only be done if you’ve undergone training under Precrime. However, this could also be just any other outsider that’s gotten lucky doing an illegal time jump. Considering Somerset Road has a strong electromagnetic field that can help anyone do their time jumps faster and more successfully—including the risky ones that involve a huge time frame of unbounded jumps into the past. But to know that about Somerset Road, much less know how to effectively take advantage of its field during a time jump—you should be a long-time agent of Precrime.”

Y/N faces Jungkook, “The man you’re after is either a professional Precrime traveling agent or an outsider who’s fed with all the necessary information only a Precrime agent could know. It’s an inside job.”

Jungkook shakes his head, “No. It can’t be. Every time-jumping device has a permanent tracker that can never be taken out even by the best engineer. Allen McGregor designed it to be like that to ensure these devices will not be used for personal interest. Every agent is tracked of their traveling activities and logged straight into the Investigation Bureau’s files. They’re inputted in glass files similar to the crime records—void for editing, copying, and deleting. And should it be an outsider utilizing Precrime’s technology, a travel will still be tracked back to the agent whose device was used.” Jungkook looks at Y/N. “There have been no reports of anyone traveling on Somerset Road the night of my accident.”

Y/N shrugs, “I’m just saying what I saw. Especially this.” Y/N makes an anti-clockwise motion of her hands and the scene rewinds again. The Jaguar is frozen back into five seconds before it hits the silver-gray Ford. Y/N walks toward the car, Jungkook close behind. The girl motions to the passenger seat and Jungkook stills. There on the leather seat is a red file case. Unprecedented murder. Precrime Murder Sector. But this is not what rendered Jungkook immobile in shock. Rather, it’s the label on the file case.

“Jonathan Winston Assassination; August 15, 2047; 12:30:00.”

“See?” Y/N smirks, “Told you we’ll find something today.”

A click of the hand and soon, the dark night sky of Somerset Road bleeds into the burning colors of the sunset. There’s no longer the silver-gray Ford and the black Jaguar. It’s just Jungkook and Y/N alone in the road, back to where they were before.

Jungkook hunches over, coughing as he beats his chest. When he finally stabilizes his breathing back to normal, he turns to the girl. “You…Ho-how can you be so sure with all of these vi-visions?”

Y/N looks at Jungkook, an indecipherable look on her face. “This is what you paid for 10,000 zials. I’m handing you what your eyes missed on just the way they are.”

Jungkook holds in his breath as he knocks on the glass door.

“Come in.”

Jungkook pushes the door open and salutes. “Chief Nathan Spencer.”

“Captain Jeon,” the Chief of Precrime glances up at him before returning back to the stack of papers he’s signing. He motions to the chair in front of his desk, “Make yourself comfortable.”

Jungkook pulls back the black chair and sits.

“So, what brings you here?”

“This week’s report, sir—the joint investigation with DOJ on the unidentified black Jaguar.” Jungkook places a brown folder on the Chief’s desk.

The chief looks at the captain. “Still no progress in the identification?”

Jungkook shakes his head, face grim.

“That can’t be helped,” Nathan sympathetically mutters. “It’s not the first time FJO has handled a difficult case.”

“But it is the first time FJO can’t identify a suspect with its current system.”

“You’re right,” Nathan nods. He flips open the brown folder and skims the report. “How’s the auditor doing?”

Jungkook clenches his jaw. “Fine. Still…meddling with our processes.”

Nathan lets out a light scoff. “As expected of someone who’s running for a promotion. Always been a know-it-all jerk, this Min Yoongi.”

Jungkook makes a tight-lipped smile.

Nathan chuckles. “Forgive me. I’ve always had a prejudice against DOJ’s auditors. Most, if not all of them, always give us a hard time more than what’s necessary. Anyway, what else do you have for me, Jungkook?”

The captain sits up straight. “I would like to ask a favor, sir.”

Nathan clasps his hand on his desk. He leans forward. “What is it?”

“It’s for the investigation. DOJ has access to all of our files—Precrime, Forecrime, and even the Investigation Bureau. So I figured if I can also do the same since our sector seems to be their main target. If I have the same leverage on our own information as them, I can have control over this investigation and drive them away before they can even assume power over us.” Jungkook leans on the table, “We could see the problems first before they become visible to DOJ.”

Nathan raises his brow. “So what do you mean?”

“I would like to have unrestricted access in our archives. Everything that contains anything pertaining to FJO.” Jungkook leans forward, “Including the Memory Temple.”

The chief sighs, “That’s a big favor, Jungkook.”

“I know. That’s why Chief General Andrews told me to go to you.”

Nathan’s brows shoot up, “The Chief General?”

“Yes, Chief General Matthew Andrews. He said you’re good friends with Chief of the Bureau, Natasha Ryde. Chief Andrews wants to ask if you could do a favor of a friend for a friend.” Jungkook slides a white envelope underneath the folder, “Of course, not without considerable credit.”

Nathan purses his lips. A beat. He shakes his head, sighing. “Okay…I’ll try to put in a word for you. I can give you the entire archives tomorrow. But the Memory Temple could take a while. Two days or three.”

“That’s fine with me.” Jungkook smiles. He stands up and heads to the end of the room. Before he could disappear behind the door, he salutes one more time, “Thank you for the kind accommodation, Chief.”

Jungkook heads to the main elevator and hits the second floor below the Superiors’ Hall. The metal doors ding open and soon, Jungkook’s looking at a wide expanse of glass wall reflecting hundreds of shelves on the glass panes.

Jungkook heads to the entranceway and salutes at the guard, “Sally.” The guard returns the salute, smiling. Jungkook tilts his head, “Did the Bureau come by to retrieve Precrime files?”

“Not yet, sir. The Bureau’s still busy in their matters with DOJ. They halted the synching of files for now.”

“That’s good,” Jungkook quips and pushes the glass doors open.

Tall metal bookshelves snake like an accordion around the floor. The spaces between them is occasionally filled up by wooden desks that mandatorily come along with a wooden bookstand and black study lamp. It looks like a hedge maze made of old books, monochrome papers, and multi-colored files.

Jungkook heads to the leftmost aisle—Precrime’s archives. He weaves his way through the bookshelves until he stops in front of a separated room in the middle of the labyrinth. It’s made completely out of glass, just like FJO’s offices. The only difference is that this room contains five sets of desks and chairs, bookshelves, and the Archive Manager’s huge white station as the centerpiece.

And before Jungkook could finish leveling his eyes to the scanner set by the door, he could already feel the growing stare of Emily Young.

“Captain Jeon.”

“Ms. Young,” Jungkook nods to the manager.

Emily smiles, “To what do I owe your visit today?”

“Jonathan Winston’s Assassination case file.”

“As usual,” The thirty-seven-year-old manager sing-songs as she stands up and disappears into the back room. It doesn’t take long for her to retrieve what the Precrime captain is looking for.

A long expandable, red file with the label in Arial 12 print: “Jonathan Winston Assassination; August 15, 2047; 12:30:00.”

Just like in Y/N’s time jump. Identically the same. Jungkook looks at the manager, “Do you have a log of anyone who looks into this file?”

Emily chuckles, “I don’t think that will bring anything new to the table, captain.” She scans the numeric code of the file and turns the monitor of her computer towards him. “There’s no one who’s been looking at this file but you.”

Jungkook peers in. Indeed, the log on Winston’s file contains nothing but his name. From August 15, 2047, the date of Winston’s assassination, to the most recent date, August 3, 2059. The day after Leigh Anderson’s suicide. The day after the Winston case was closed cold. There’s no other name in the log for 12 years other than his name.

Jungkook looks back at Emily, “Are you sure this is the complete log on this file? No one borrowed the file earlier than July 12th?”

“That’s the whole log, captain. There’s no record on August 1st because we’re closed to do an inventory check.” Emily leans back in her chair. “Everyone knows you’re busy on a case in Down Hill for the entirety of June. The Allison future murder is all over the news. Of course, with a Metropolis resident as a future victim. And with you busy on another case, this Winston’s file is devoid of any viewers.” Emily releases a chuckle. “Every cop has an obsession with a particular case. Everyone here knows Winston’s case is yours. I think I will remember if someone other than you looked into this file because I swear that day will be a miracle.”

Jungkook purses his lips, face undecipherable. Right then, his phone rings loud. He turns to his back and picks it up. “Hello?”

“Captain.” It’s Jimin.

“What is it?”

“You have to come to the sector now. There’s a file from Precrime. It’s…a blank.”

“Okay, I’ll be there soon,” Jungkook ends the call. He faces Emily. “Thank you for today, Emily.” The archives manager nods with a playful salute at him. Jungkook quickly returns the salute and pushes the door open. Soon, he’s tearing past the labyrinth of shelves.

It doesn’t take Jungkook longer than ten minutes to reach the left-wing of the 2nd floor. The cold sweat from the discovery in the archives is still clinging on his nape.

As soon as he steps into Murder Sector, everyone’s eyes are set on him. Including Yoongi. Jungkook prods his cheek with his tongue as he slides in the gloves over his hands. “Jimin, give me the run-over.”

“Captain, Jeon. It’s a grayish-white file. Precrime, Property and Crime Scene Sector. Traveling agent in charge is Eric Williams. Crime record validated by traveling agents Hannah Peters and Ivan Park. Case number 3571, hit-and-run, destruction of property. Suspect is unknown. Victim’s name is…Jeon Jungkook.”

Jungkook whips his head towards the secretary, eyes wide.

“It’s your case, sir.” Jimin confirms, “Eric accidentally time jumped into the night of your hit-and-run while he’s traveling for a T-Bone accident in Middle Town. Property and Crime Scene figured this blank is a crucial update on your case.” He walks to the end of the glass board and slides the disk into the middle slot.

Jungkook turns to his front. The glass board lights up and a video starts playing. It’s Somerset Road and it’s almost pitch black in the grainy film. Eric stands frozen on the pavement for a second. But the seeming serenity of the scene soon dissipates as he looks down at his gear and frantically fumbles for his time jumper. Suddenly, hot blinding light fills his peripherals. Eric’s head shoots up. A car is speeding toward him. The headlights grow larger and finally, the car becomes visible. It’s the silver-gray Ford. Eric turns around and right then, a black Jaguar zooms past him, merely missing him by a hairsbreadth. But the Jaguar doesn’t stop and further increases its speed. It bulldozers right into the side of the Ford, sending it flying across the barren road. Eric picks up his feet and dashes to the cars. But his efforts are futile. The black Jaguar has already disappeared before he could even take his 12th step. And then, the record stops.

Before Jimin could even state the protocol run-through, Jungkook frantically swipes through the blank record. He slides across the frames in reverse, back and backward until he reaches the first second of the blank.

“Sir, I’m afraid we have to do the protocol first—"

Jungkook’s hand stills on the board. The frame freezes. It’s a close-up of the black Jaguar as it barely grazes Eric’s body. Jungkook zooms in. There inside the passenger seat of the car is a long, red expandable file. “Jonathan Winston Assassination; August 15, 2047; 12:30:00.”

Jungkook feels his blood run cold. It’s the same file he just had his hands on less than 15 minutes ago. It’s the same file he saw in his and Y/N’s jump. Y/N’s vision is true.

Jungkook feels his pocket vibrate and he quickly whips out his phone. However, he wasn’t able to dwell on it longer as a hard force pushes his shoulder backward, forcing Jungkook to tear his eyes off the screen.

Yoongi glares at him, “Why are you indifferent about this? You know something about this, didn’t you? Captain Jeon!”

But even with his name called out loud, Jungkook couldn’t hear anything. All that registers in his mind is one single message.

Y/N L/N: Have you ever heard of a Sooah Kim before? (11:14 A.M.)

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Note: This story is based on Steven Spielberg’s film adaptation of Philip K. Dick’s short story, Minority Report (2002). That being said, this series may contain spoilers for the movie so if you want to watch the movie, please do so first before reading!

A/N | Hi hons! Thank you for reading the 2nd chapter! I hope I got you guys more curious about the story hehe. Anyway, I have some announcement: I have finals for a major coming up this week so I’ll spend the next whole week studying. So, I’ll try if I can update the next chap the week after next week, on Sunday, too. But nothing is certain yet as I still have some uni stuff to do. Don’t worry, I only have 3 projects left to do to finally finish this sem. So as soon as I’m done with them, expect more frequent updates from me!

If you guys wanna get notified as soon as I post the next chapter, I’m gonna add you all in my taglist! Just hit me up down the comments of this series’ masterlist so I can better track you all! The search function of Tumblr is messing with me and my notifs in my inbox usually come late so it’s highly probable your asks and DMs may get lost ☹

Once again, thank you for reading and giving a chance to My Time! :”)

Notes: As you know, this is a mystery fic. So, it will be most appreciated if any theories pertaining to the story be kept down the comments so I can entertain them all without spoiling our future readers! Once again, thank you so much for reading this!

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babbushka · 5 years

Text

Each Eye (8/8)

Kylo was the most feared boss in the entirety of New York City. They said that the crime families were no more, that they had disappeared with the end of an era. You knew it wasn’t true, you saw first hand. The families didn’t disappear, they simply went underground, adapted.

Lucky for you, your man, and your family, no one could ever get rid of crime. Not really.

Mob Boss!Kylo Ren x Reader

13.6k, Warnings: NSFW, Violence, Murder, Blood, Character Death (Not Kylo or Reader)

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The drive had him in a near frenzy. Kylo never noticed how good of a driver Dophled was, never paid much mind, until he was stuck behind the boy in traffic, until he followed the path Dopheld cut for him. He would have to give the boy a raise, he decided as they blew through a red light, barreling down the streets of midtown towards the apartment where he was desperate to arrive.

He can see you, just barely. Can see you through the tinted glass, tinted dark enough that it might as well be illegal. But he can see you, the back of your head, your pretty hair. His body is on fire for you; fuck you’re so sexy, he thought. You were sexy sitting in that little tea room, bringing up all of his shitty sister’s dirty laundry, and you’re sexy now.

He can’t wait to get his hands on you, to beg for you, to hear the praise that he knows he can coax forth – he just has to get home first.

A rat, he thought to himself with a white-knuckled grip on the fine leather of the steering wheel. His own sister following in the footsteps of his god-awful father. He had suspected, he had thought, had sensed some betrayal, and the confirmation of it all had his blood boiling.

Was it boiling, or was it singing?

Either way, you held the key to reigning him in, and he nearly held his breath in anxious anticipation of your lips on his, soothing his veins.

He felt like a boy again, when the cars pulled up outside the apartment. He didn’t bother turning off the car or parking it, letting one of the apartment valets do it for him, tossing the kid the car key.

He felt like a boy again, watching you step out of the shiny black Bentley, watching your elegant leg stick out of the car. He took long strides across the short strip of sidewalk, offered you a hand as he always did, as he always will do. Your well-manicured hand was practically drooling with gold, gold he had given you, and he cannot help himself as he brought the back of your hand up to his lips.

You smiled, ducked your head for a moment and pressed the palm of that hand to his cheek, his scarred cheek, the one you so lovingly caressed. There was a hint of something in your eye, something between hunger and anger, a dangerous fury, simmering just below the surface of your composure.

Kylo’s cock grew hard in his nice pressed trousers -- few had seen you so furious, even fewer had seen and lived. It was some delicious dark thing, one he wanted to revel in for the rest of his life.

And soon, soon he could. Soon he would have all the power all on his own, he wouldn’t have to vie for it, wouldn’t have to negotiate, wouldn’t have to compromise within his own fucking family. No, soon Rey would be gone and he could have everything he’d ever dreamed of.

Kylo opened the front door of the apartment lobby for you, let you light the button for the elevator.

Only when the elevator doors closed and the key to unlock the button for the penthouse had been pressed, did you embrace.

All at once, the raging clawing desperate fire in him comes to life, and he backed you up against the wall of the elevator, hands all over you. He never felt more alive than when he had you in his arms, than when your lips were on his. And on his they were, tongue hot and coaxing, sighing against his mouth, pulling soft whines from the back of his throat.

He could taste the tea on your tongue, sucked off the last droplets of honey and pistachio, kissed and kissed and kissed you as the elevator soared.

“I fucking knew it.” He growled against your cheek as he took a small break to breathe, his hands already asking permission to cover your breasts, to grope you and squeeze the flesh which he so adored. “She sent the cops crawling, didn’t she?”

“Poe and Finn got to her, she defected, and it’s going to ruin everything if we don’t stop her.” You nodded, panted against him as you guided those shaking hands of his against your skin, under your bra.

“We’ll stop her.” Kylo almost didn’t know what he’s saying, he was so focused on the feel of your skin, hot hot hot in his hands, his big hands which nearly covered you completely. He willed the elevator to move faster, wanted you home so he can beg to fuck you. “I’ve been waiting a long time to shut her up.”

“I feel like this is my fault.” You sighed, and he paused his ministrations with a scowl.

“Don’t say that.” His anxiety rushed through him at your distress.

You were never at fault, ever. Never had you done one wrong thing in your life, as far as he was concerned. You could have killed the entire family, could have burned the businesses down to the ground, and he still would have thought you right.

But you were frowning, and it made his heart beat fast in a way that made him run cold. He didn’t like to see you frown, not like that.

“If I had killed her when I had the chance – if I had let you go after her the way you wanted...” You looked off into the reflection of yourselves in the polished walls of the elevator, genuinely introspective and lost in thought. “Maybe none of this would have happened.”

He shook his head, nudged your chin so that your face was tilted towards his.

“Rey was useful for a time, until she wasn’t.” He said softly, licking his lips and bending down to kiss you once more, to kiss you forever, kiss your frown away. “At least now we have reason to make a point of her, now no one can come after me for it.”

That had you smiling, and the relief flooded through him almost as quickly as the nerves had. It was amazing, he thought, just how the sight of your pretty lips stretched into a grin could flip such a switch in him. Sometimes he thinks about how lucky he is to have you, thinks about how you save him over and over again, every day, every moment of every day, with that smile.

But other times…other times he is enchanted by the cold callous cruelty in your eyes, never at his expense, but at the expense of your enemies. He relished the way you shared that cruelty with him, shared his enemies and adopted them as your own.

Fuck, he loved you.

And you, his savior wrapped in velvet, you loved him back.

“No one will come after you, they wouldn’t dare. But we need our hands clean of this crime, with the police on her side they’ll suspect us immediately.” You whispered, like the cops have bugged the elevator, like they’re listening in. You clasped one hand around his tie and gave it a firm squeeze, “We have to be careful about this, no rampant massacring.”

“I have a plan.” Kylo nodded, bit the inside of his cheek and felt the thrill of a murder yet to come bubbling up inside him, starting in his stomach and trickling through his arms to the tips of his fingers where they trembled with want against your skin. “One I’ve been sitting on for-fucking-ever.”

“Where does it start?” You kissed him, deliberately, slowly, in that measured way that Kylo knows he will never be able to achieve, not when it comes to you.

The elevator dinged, finally having arrived at the penthouse lobby, and he took your hand in his own, led you to the lavish front door of your apartment.

“With the rabbi.” He said eagerly, other hand turning the lock and pulling you inside with blood pounding in his ears.

“The rabbi?” You frowned, trying to remember this plan.

“Yeah but first – (Y/N), honey, I – ” The plan could wait, everything could wait. For now he needed you, needed your body pressed against his, and he wasted no time dragging you to the bedroom.

You go willingly, happily, already unzipping and unbuttoning yourself, already shedding your clothes as you follow him into the room. You’re naked by the time he picked you up and threw you onto the bed, your bright laugh ringing through the modern furnishings as you bounced on the mattress, gorgeous in the yellow sun of the afternoon.

The windows were all open, all the curtains wide apart, wide wide wide like your legs as they spread for him.

“I know, I know.” You reached for him, beckoned him close, “Take what you need, take me.”

He could come from just that, you both know. He could stand right there and come all over himself like some messy slut just from your sweet words, your words of encouragement and permission. But his eyes are zeroed in on your pussy, and he practically tripped over himself to rip his suit away from his overheated skin, so anxious to fuck you that it almost made him sick.

He knew you need to be taken care of, need to be prepared. His cock was big, he’s proud of it, he’s proud of the way it made you feel. But only when you’ve been stretched for him, only when you’re ready for him. So he climbed naked onto the bed, rolled you over onto your hands and knees so your back was arched and your ass was presented to him.

His chest burned burned burned with lust, and he had to grip the base of his cock because you hadn’t said he could fuck you yet, hadn’t given him permission for that. He reached around you to stick a couple fingers in your mouth, and you, the perfect fucking angel you were, sucked them in between your teeth. You drooled all over them, so much so that when he pulled away, spit hung like little strands in a spiders web of lube on his hand.

“Touch me Kylo.” You told him, and he had to shut his eyes so he wouldn’t completely lose himself.

He slid his coated fingers into your pussy and shuddered at the way you moaned. He knew he should go slowly, knew he should take his time, but there’s not much time to be had, not much time to be savored in the way he wanted. So he pushed three fingers into you right up to the hilt, shuffled behind you so so so close, draped his stomach all across your back so he could feel the shocks of pleasure through your body.

He head rested on your shoulder, as your body quivered for him.

“Oh, fuck that’s good.” Your sighs and gasps and pants and moans were delicious as he curled those three fingers inside you.

He wondered if he could, if you’d let him, put in a fourth. His hands were so fucking big, you always liked to compliment him on it, always liked to say so. You always told him how big his hands were, maybe you’d like to get fully fucked with them.

“Ah! Kylo, honey, more -- harder.” You ordered, and he was so happy, so willing to obey.

He worked you open until your thighs began to shake in earnest, until your arms had to be growing sore. He’d roll you over in a moment, he knew he would, he just was too obsessed with the feeling of your pussy soaking his hand. He leaned back to sit on his haunches, and his other hand which had been supporting his weight now came around to smooth up your stomach, sending the muscles and flesh twitching with excitement.

“I could…” He drooled all over your lower back where it’d arched for him, “I could fit my whole fist in here.”

You flinched lightly at the spit, tensed around his fingers, squeezed him tight. Fuck you’re tight, he thought, always somehow forever so tight, as if you were begging to be fucked in the way that he would beg to fuck you. You threw a glance over your shoulder as you rocked back on his hand, fucking yourself on his fingers because his brain had stopped momentarily from how good you fucking looked.

“Don’t you dare.” You teased, bringing him back to life.

“I won’t – but I could. I could and you’d take me, your pussy would take the whole thing.” He bent over again, pushed into your cunt with the heel of his palm, pushed you up the bed so your arms would give out and you’d collapse onto the mattress face-first.

“Your big cock is enough.” You muffled, moaned, as he found the little spot inside you that had you panting quickly into your pillow.

“It’s big?” Kylo asked, sweating sweating sweating, dick rock hard against your thigh.

“So big!” You nodded, voice high. The praise only made his dick leak, only made it ooze pre-come from the tip, only made him groan.

He pulled his fingers away from your sweet cunt, brought them up to his mouth to lick off the juices there, licked up every drop of your sweet pussy that he could, the slick making a mess of his goatee. He wanted it, wanted to bathe in it, would bathe in your blood if you’d let him.

“How big?” He asked, guiding his cock to rub between your folds, your pussy throbbing for him.

You teased him, made him growl with the way you shimmied your hips back and forth, back and forth. He wanted to sink his cock into you, wanted to fuck you hard with it, but you hadn’t said yes yet, hadn’t told him he could. Instead, the slippery hot lips of your pussy sucked him in and he had to restrain himself, had to make himself stay just there, just coating his cock in your wetness.

“Fucking huge. So big that I can feel it up in my throat when you fuck me, I can taste it like when you come in my mouth that’s how big it is.” You said, and he groaned, pre-come pulsing out of him, his balls already so tight, his stomach already so tense.

“Please, precious, (Y/N), I -- please let me, please – ” He couldn’t hold back any longer, he just couldn’t he might cry, might weep tears of arousal and desperation if you didn’t let him fuck you properly soon. But he could save his tears for another day, because as soon as he started to plead for your pussy, you found the strength to push back onto him.

You pushed your cunt only an inch onto his cock before he grabbed your hips and slammed himself the rest of the way, knocking the air out of you.

“Yes, yes! Oh, Kylo.” You moaned high and loud, biting the pillow hard, your pussy sopping wet and dripping all over his thighs. He wondered if you came, if you came already just from being fingered and having his big big big cock – you said so, you had said it was big, his fucked up sex drunk mind played on loop – all the way inside you.

He would never get tired of this, of this feeling. Of the way you consumed him so. You have inhabited every cell, every nerve, every fiber of his being; and when you gasped on his cock, he felt like he was on fire, like he could raze the entire planet down to the ground. You were everything, everything to him, everything he had ever wanted or needed, everything come together just for him.

He didn’t know how you do it, how you fit him so perfectly inside you – inside your heart, your soul, your mouth, your hands, your cunt, he didn’t know. But he was grateful, wanted to show that gratitude.

“Ah, ah,” He grunted, the loud smack of his skin against yours already intoxicating his obsessed brain. It was the only word for it, the only word really. Obsessed, he was obsessed with you. His hands gripped you tightly, gripped your thighs in a way that he knew would bruise. He’d bruise you all over if you’d let him, and he so desperately wanted you to let him, so he asked, “Please?”

You shimmied out of his hold for a moment, re-arranged yourself so that you could be on your back, and it was as if the gates of heaven above parted for him with the way you wound your calves around his hips.

He took the opportunity of seeing your face to kiss you, one palm on your jaw, tongue hot hot hot down your throat. He ground his cock into you, rolled his hips, rolled them as they were flush against your sweating body. He loved when you sweat, loved when the strands of your hair stuck to your cheek, your mouth bitten and kissed raw.

“You’re so good for me, so good.” You moaned and panted against his lips as he bent himself into whatever shape he needed to be able to kiss and fuck you at the same time. “The best, do you know that? You’re the best.”

His head went fuzzy from the praise, fuzzy and fucked up, god you’ve got him under such a spell, under such a tight grip. He’s not complaining, he’d never complain, he could only groan as he sped his hips up, dragged you down the bed with that tight grip of his, tight like your cunt on his cock.

He built up so much speed that he could almost hear the harsh squeaking of the bed underneath you, could almost hear the slam of the headboard against the wall. He sucked the air straight from your lips, carbon dioxide making him hazy, your hands and nails digging into the muscle of his shoulders, the meat of his back.

“Oh! Oh Kylo, yes!” Your voice is loud, fuck it’s loud, so loud in his ear and yet he felt a million miles away, swimming in the warm tight love comfort joy relief that is your pussy.

He took and took and took all his pleasure straight from the well of lust between your legs, rammed himself up up up into you, rammed himself so hard and fast that before he knew it, your gasps shifted from pleasure to pain.

“Ow -- Fuck!” You gripped his hair tight with your hand, winced sharply as his cock shoved itself up against your cervix in a way he suddenly realized wasn’t fun, wasn’t comfortable. His chest ached and pained immediately, and he slowed his hips down, less of a frenzy when you shook his head a little with a kiss and, “Kylo be careful with me honey.”

“Sorrysorry I’m sorry.” He rushed to apologize, desperate to make it up to you, frantic for it.

He kissed you, licked a stripe across your teeth, sucked your tongue into his mouth as he forced his hips to slow, forced himself to take his time so he didn’t accidentally hurt you again. He’d kill something if you ever made a shock of pain like that again.

“Say it.” You demanded, not unkindly but firmly, firm enough that his balls tightened and his pelvis ground against you almost in slow motion. The control you had over him, the power, was enough to make him keen, his hips stuttering inside you.

“M’sorry!” He groaned into the crook of your neck where he drooled and panted like some great beast, some monster with claws too sharp as they sunk into your soft flesh like putty.

You preened under the attention, under the gaze of his dark dark dark eyes, your mouth open, unable to close from the feeling of him on top of you, inside of you, all the way up into your throat like you had said.

“Again, like you mean it.” You bared your teeth – and that was the most delicious thing, wasn’t it?

He thought to himself. He was a monster, a beast, yes. But you were some wicked thing in your own right, a force to be reckoned with, a power to be obeyed. You had ambition in your eyes just the same, had that hunger for power simmering under your skin just as he did.

Kylo was willing, god he was more than willing, to offer everything to you, to give you anything you could ever ask for, could ever demand.

“I’m sorry!” He gasped, limbs shaking, trembling all over the way your thighs did, the way your face shook with pleasure as your eyes nearly blanked out.

“Alright, it’s alright. Make us come.” You nodded, let him groan and drag his dick through your body, speared himself in all the way.

“Thank you, precious.” He kissed every inch of your skin, every single inch.

He licked and bit marks into the valley between your breasts, latched his mouth onto a nipple and sucked hard. Your back arched into him, pushing your body closer closer closer to his, and his head was completely filled with the rush of blood in his ears, your whines and pants and moans caressing him like the soft warmth of a summer sun.

“K – fuck – Kylo,” Your voice grew higher and higher, until you were sobbing, until your throat hiccupped around your moans, and you came.

He loved it, the feeling of you coming underneath him. Your legs gripped his hips like a vice, your nails breaking his skin and the sick sting of pleasure broke him into goosebumps. Your body tensed and the sagged into the mattress, sinking deep into the soft world of blankets and pillows that Kylo worked so hard to keep plump and clean and fresh. He could practically taste the salt of your sweat as your body wracked with tremors of pleasure, could smell the sex on you. It was almost more than he could bare, being this close to you, being so wholly yours.

Your body went pliant for him, as he fucked you through it, so close, so fucking close to coming himself – and then he grunted out his own orgasm, bright white blinding hot hot hot coursing through him, making the hair on the back of his neck stand up, making his toes curl into the sheets.

Out of it, nearly blacked out, his hips still moved, milking his cock with the way your pussy gripped him. He was almost afraid that he’d never be able to pull out – and he found he didn’t want to.

You were smiling underneath him, that blissed out look on your face something that calmed Kylo’s frantically buzzing nerves. He felt good, so fucking good, felt over the moon. His cock throbbed with come, pouring it into you, filling you up. He fumbled around the bed with his eyes still shut, until his hand grasped around one of the plush pillows you had nearly torn into two with your teeth.

He shoved the pillow under your hips and kept going, kept grunting in your ear, groaning out deep sighs of pleasure as your body took every last drop he had to give, until you were practically overflowing with his come.

“Love you.” You whispered, your fingers carding through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp in that way that had him sighing happily, little noises in the back of his throat that he couldn’t really control.

Not that he had to, he never had to worry about that with you. He let himself rest on top of your body, cock beginning to go soft inside your beautiful perfect cunt. He let himself rest there, atop your skin, ear listening to the way your heart pounded well and alive underneath your flesh. He calmed his breathing down to the sound of your heartbeat, kissed and mouthed at the soft touch of your breasts.

“Tomorrow?” He pressed the word into your skin, smothered and smeared his reverence there.

Reverence, that was it. That’s what he felt for you, above all else, adoration. He wanted to hold you like some precious thing, wanted to cradle you close to his soul if he had one, if it wasn’t torn to pieces by now.

If it had, Kylo figured, if it had been shredded up into small bite sized chunks, well. You must have been the one to hold them.

“No honey, it has to happen tonight.” You whispered sympathetically, smoothing your hands over his shoulders, breathing deeply. A swell of pride surged through him at that, at how he was so able to make you lose it, make you come so hard that your hands still shook even after the glow of orgasm wore away.

“I want…” He didn’t know how to say it, how to express the way he wanted to lay at your feet like the attack dog he was once, some frothing at the mouth vicious thing that only you could heel. How he would rip the heads off of anyone who so much as looked at you wrong, how he would lay their bones in pretty arrangements before you. He didn’t know how to say it and that frustrated him, so instead he grunted out an, “Ugh.”

But you, you were so patient with him, so patient always. You smiled, because you knew, knew what he meant without him even having to say any of it.

Still, you wanted to hear it, you liked hearing him talk after he’d come, voice extra deep, baritone made you shiver.

“Use your words darling.” You encouraged, and he couldn’t think of anything else, so when he finally opened his eyes and took in the sight of you in the rich buttery afternoon sun, he feels like he’s on fire again.

“Can I bathe you?” He asked, because it was the one thing he could do to show you, to tell you without saying it.

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

His hands don’t shake, in the bathtub. You kept the lights off, so it’s pitch black in the bathroom, black as night though it’s only five in the afternoon. The two of you are crowded together in the tub, the water scalding hot and frothed with expensive soap that Kylo didn’t know the brand name of. He cupped his hands in the water and poured it over your head from where you’re leaning against his chest, his body wrapped around yours.

He couldn’t stop touching you, couldn’t stop passing his palms over your body, lightly scrubbing your flesh with the calloused heel of his palm, rinsing away the sweat and sex that clung to your inner thighs.

“So beautiful.” He murmured, his nose prodding at your soft cheek, making you hum out a little smile.

He kissed you there, traveled slow kisses down your neck, followed the curve of your shoulder. He kissed you, lips plush and swollen from the way he found himself unable to ever stop, unable to ever take himself away from you.

“I’m all yours, forever.” You slid your hands to cover his own, where they had wound tightly around your middle, fingers interlaced with his.

The possession flared up in his blood, and the kiss to your shoulder turned more into a bite, one that had you sighing back into his embrace.

“I’m excited.” He said, apropos of nothing, “To kill her.”

And he was, he was thrilled. For years he had stood by and let her run around, let her think she had some piece of control. He had tried to deal with her, had given her Midtown some years ago in an attempt to keep her under watch, but that had failed.

He wondered when she had defected, when she sold out to the cops. Was that before she tried to murder him? Before she cut his face open and left him in the streets to die? Or was it after the realization that it would take more than that to kill him, more than that to break him down.

“I know you are, I’m excited to let you.” You smiled, he could tell you were smiling, he could hear it in your voice. “We have to get dressed.”

He pinched at your thigh lightly, making you suck in a breath. He made no move to get out of the tub though, made no move to take you into the closet and watch you get clothed, watch you get so perfectly put together. You chuckled about that, about the stillness, about the way his muscles only tightened around you when you tried to make a notion to stand.

He wrapped his hands around your throat instead, brought your head back back back until it was tipped onto his shoulder. Those big hands of his then smoothed down the front of your body, doing their best to cover every inch, every piece of you that he could.

“I love you so much.” He said, envisioning the way you’d look when he brought you back your trophy, your prize, your gift.

The thought of it almost made him hard again.

“I love you too darling,” You twisted in his embrace, kissed him and straddled his thighs, water sloshing all over the place, “But we have to go meet with the rabbi.”

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

The look on Luke’s face when he opened the office door to see his nephew and his wife, was almost worth the schlep downtown.

Almost.

The traffic had been a bitch, had put Kylo in a sour fucking mood, a mood which wasn’t likely to let up at all, considering he was being faced with the man who arguably, could be blamed for much of his disastrous upbringing. But, while there was much anger still harbored in Kylo’s chest, he wasn’t there for a fight; in fact, quite the opposite.

Luke must have sensed that, must have used his bizarrely strong powers of intuition to conclude that you and Kylo were here for some other reason, because that look of shock quickly melted into one of quiet, although apprehensive, joy.

“Kylo! (Y/N), hello! I wasn’t so sure I’d be seeing you here any time soon.” The old man welcomed you into the office.

You held Kylo’s hand, and he was thankful for it, thankful because he wasn’t so sure what he’d do with himself if he didn’t have the tether of your touch to guide him, ground him, as he walked into the office and sat in the big leather chairs on the opposite side of a large mahogany desk.

Kylo felt like a kid again, being sent to talk to his Uncle when he wouldn’t cooperate during Hebrew school, when he would get into arguments with the teachers and classmates.

“We come often, don’t we?” You asked, cool as a cucumber. Kylo admired that about you, admired lots of things about you, but the way you always managed to stay so cool was definitely one of them.

“Yes, but I mean here, in my office.” Luke gestured to the grand bookshelves around him, dark wood holding secrets, holding the sacred texts.

“We can leave – ” Kylo started, already aggravated, already getting annoyed, feeling far too much like he was being scolded yet again, always scolded by someone.

“We want your blessing.” You said instead, looking at Kylo, looking at him expectantly.

You looked at Kylo, and Kylo looked at Luke, and Luke looked at you, the three of you in thick anticipation of what you had up your sleeves. They were very fine sleeves, expensive ones, satin that draped gorgeously over your body, cascading over your shoulders.

“(Y/N) and I are trying to have a baby.” Kylo admitted, because it wasn’t a lie.

It was better to stick to the truth, when it came to Luke. He wasn’t as good as you, not nearly as good, but he could always tell when Kylo was lying.

His uncle narrowed his eyes, mulled over the declaration for a moment or two before he too sat back in his big leather chair. His kippah got slightly pushed around from the way he let his head settle into the cushion, and he scratched at the beard which once may have been blonde, but now had faded to a salt and pepper grey.

“Are you really?” He stared at Kylo, as if this were some cruel joke Kylo might play.

“Yes, but don’t tell anyone.” Kylo’s hand drifted down from where it was intertwined with yours on the armrest of the chair, to your stomach. You weren’t pregnant yet, not to your knowledge anyway.

But soon, hopefully soon. He’d take you to Paris as soon as this was all done, had plane tickets tucked away in his jacket pocket to jet you off abroad where all the mess of the murder could be cleaned up and he’d fuck you all day every day, a celebration of your anniversary.

Hopefully, when you both came back to the states, you’d be eating for two.

Luke, despite the tenuous relationship between him and his nephew, smiled. He didn’t congratulate you, didn’t offer any words of encouragement, because that wasn’t done. It would be back luck, it would jinx the whole thing, if he had been overjoyed. Kylo appreciated that, and he knew you did too.

“Of course not.” Luke agreed, no need to tell anyone anything when there wasn’t anything to tell. “Leia will be overjoyed, having a grandchild.”

Kylo rolled his eyes, clenched his jaw in a steely attempt to walk out from the mention of his mother.

“You know that won’t change things.” Your hushed voice was a balm over Kylo’s aggravation, and he let his hand return to its spot against your palm, your fingers lacing through his in their usual way.

“Maybe not, but a baby does bring an insurmountable abundance of joy, and knowing you two, they’ll be the most loved and spoiled thing in the entire world.”

“Will you give it to us, then? Your blessing?” You were hopeful, eyes pleading.

Your charm was truly something to behold, because Luke was standing up from his hair and beckoning you forward in an instant. You smiled so wide at him and Kylo tried not to let his jealousy show too strongly.

“Yes, come here.” Luke reached for your hands, and you gave them to him.

Kylo turned his attention to the office around him, for a moment. It was a very nice office, all dark woods that had been carefully polished and treated well, taken care of lovingly. There was a big window which let light pour in in streams, it caught little flecks of fluff and bits of nothing in the air. If Kylo had been a better student, he thought to himself, maybe he could have one day worked in an office like this.

But, he smirked to himself, he had to admit, his own office was much nicer.

Much like his office though, Luke’s was full of secrets. And it was these secrets which had brought him and his most beautiful, perfect wife, to visit.

When Luke had finished reciting some prayers and Kylo was sure he wouldn’t be interrupting, he rose from his seat and stuck his hands in his pockets.

“Can I talk to you privately for a minute?” He cleared his throat, getting the attention of his uncle who regarded him warily.

It was known that Kylo didn’t like to really do anything privately, anything without the comforting company of you. Luke’s apprehension was valid, as you sat down back in your chair and pulled out your phone, content to scroll through something while they spoke.

“I’ll wait here.” You smiled, that smile which put Luke at ease, which convinced him to lead Kylo through a back door, into a smaller, more secluded section of the office.

This was Luke’s private study, a place he didn’t very often let people visit.

Kylo walked around to the other side of Luke’s desk, presumptuous and annoying in the way he touched Luke’s shit, picked up a paperweight and rolled it around in his hand.

“Do you ever wish that you had children, Uncle Luke?” Kylo asked, not bothering to really look up at him.

He wasn’t actually interested in talking with the rabbi, he just needed to buy you time, that was all.

“Me?” Luke mused, face quirking into thought while he adjusted the tallit around his shoulders, “No not really. No offense Kylo but you really put a damper on the whole idea. Why do you ask?”

That almost made Kylo huff out a self-deprecating laugh, almost. He remembered the nightmare that he had been as a child, when his parents had given up on him and sent him away, when he’d spent too many of his days cooped up in the synagogue. He didn’t blame Luke for thinking so negatively of him – the feeling was mutual.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about it, about fatherhood.” He put the paperweight down, and Luke visibly relaxed now that a blunt instrument was no longer in the palm of his murderous nephew. “You know, with (Y/N) trying to conceive and all.”

“Have you been thinking about fatherhood in general, or about Han?” Luke asked, and Kylo felt his whole body go cold.

Han was a sore subject, for a lot of reasons. He had always been a sore subject, even from the time of Kylo’s youth. It almost felt like all the bullshit that happened in his life happened because of Han. And maybe that was being overly dramatic, but well. The Skywalker bloodline had never been known for their logic and reasoning.

“Han.” Kylo said, eventually. Because it wasn’t a lie, he had been thinking about him. “How he failed me. How you failed me when they sent me away. How Snoke failed me. I feel like I’m cursed, I don’t want my child to feel the way I feel about all of you.”

He never knew what it was about the rabbi, how he could spill all his fears right there in the open, fears he was too afraid to acknowledge out loud because if he acknowledges them then they’re real.

“I’m sorry.” Is all Luke had to offer, and Kylo did huff out a laugh then.

“Yeah I’m sure you are.” He rolled his eyes, walked around the desk to look at some of the books Luke kept in the personal study. He wasn’t really reading them, didn’t care much for the names on the spines. He just wanted to appear interested, didn’t want to look like he was stalling.

“He shouldn’t have done what he did, shouldn’t have been so absent. Neither of them should have. But murder isn’t always the answer.” Luke placed a hand on Kylo’s shoulder, a comforting gesture that he tried his very best not to shake away.

“Maybe not, but it is the one that feels the most satisfying.” He checked his watch, worried about the time.

The timing of this whole fucking mess had to be perfect, had to go over just so, this more than anything.

“I’m very surprised to see you, all things considering.” Luke said, removing his hand when it became awkward and uncomfortable.

Kylo sighed, ran a hand through his hair. He wanted a cigarette, wanted to be close to you. You were just there, just on the other side of the door in the office, and it was all Kylo could do to not rush to your side.

“I wanted to start this off right. I wanted to give them the best chance of being the happiest they can be. That’s all.” He said truthfully, quietly.

“So they’ll go to Hebrew school then? Get Mitzvah’d?” Luke prompted, and Kylo did give a genuine smile then.

“God willing.” He replied, making the rabbi tsk and shake his head.

“You know you’re not supposed to say that.” He admonished, and Kylo only shrugged.

“Just like old times.” He mused, before deciding you had officially been given enough time, and turning to the old man who stood before him. “Thanks Uncle Luke.”

Luke only nodded, and opened the door for him.

You were sitting in your chair, seemingly not having had moved a muscle, still scrolling through your phone. If Kylo looked close enough, he’d see you were browsing through Pinterest for nursery ideas, and that made his chest warm.

“Sorry honey, let’s go.” Kylo broke the calm silence, and you pretended to be startled in a way that had him so in love with you, so in love with how fucking crafty and cunning you could be.

You stood at the arrival of the men and gathered your things in your arms for all of a moment before Kylo took them from you so you wouldn’t have to carry them.

“Everything alright?” You whispered to Kylo, mostly a show. Kylo nodded and bent down to kiss you, felt the life breathe back into his lungs from the way you hummed gently against his lips, before you broke the kiss and turned back to Luke with a small dose of embarrassment. “Thank you again.”

“Be careful, both of you.” Luke said, before sitting at the desk and tending to whatever paperwork and duties you had interrupted.

You bid him goodbye and walked in comfortable silence with Kylo until you were far enough away from the temple to be overheard by eager ears.

While the two of you waited for Dopheld to pull up in the Bentley, you rummaged through your purse and plucked out the small steel case you had stolen from Luke’s office. One of the many secrets hidden away in those bookshelves, were novels that had the pages cut away to leave small recesses for small objects like this.

Small, lethal objects.

“You’re terribly smart, you know that?” You bumped your hip against his playfully, a great big smile on your lips, looking entirely like the cat that got the cream.

“I do.” He teased right back, praise turning him warm and making him fill with pride. “He doesn’t know I know about it, they’re supposed to be kept there for safekeeping.”

You opened the case and admired the bullets, the way they shone. The glossy coating had an almost purple sheen to it, and Kylo could tell you almost wanted to pick one up, wanted to touch it. But you knew better, knew that once that poison stuck to your skin there was too high of a risk that it could do harm, too difficult for it to come off.

“This is a nasty way for her to die.” You closed the case, put it safely back in your purse and slid your arms around his neck, kissing him right there on the sidewalk, as Dopheld pulled up.

“Well the way I see it, we can either poison or drown the rat.” He mused, opening the door to the car and offering a steadying hand for you as you climbed in.

“We have to trap her first.” You replied as you settled easily in your spot, pulled flush against Kylo’s side as he sat and closed the car door behind him.

“Yes.” He agreed, winding his arm around your waist and sighing happily as you pressed small kisses to his chin and cheek, “It’s a good thing you’re wearing black.”

To say that he was stepping into a hornet’s nest was an understatement. At least, if the cold glares that were shot over the shoulders of the Hux family were anything to go by. Kylo readjusted his grip on your hand, and he could practically feel the hatred oozing out of the Irish mob that had come together to mourn one of their own.

You watched carefully, poised and ready to strike if the need should arise. Afterall, the last time you had come in contact with them, it had resulted with Roisin dead in a car on her way to the hospital. They watched back just as carefully, an illusion of peace in this time of great sorrow. Sorrow for them, anyway.

The funeral ceremony hadn’t yet begun, not officially. The place was packed, absolutely jam packed, to pay their respects to the poor unfortunate soul which laid at the front of the great big room. Kylo led you down the nave up to the open casket, careful to have the signet ring hidden, careful to have it tucked into your pocket, not on display in front of all of them.

It was deadly silent, in the church. That oppressive silence like lightning about to strike, thunder about to crack. You had not come to start trouble, Kylo knew this. No, the trouble had already been started, had been instigated by one of their own.

Kylo had only returned the favor.

Despite being so used to murder, so faced with it in his line of work, his lifestyle, it always was a sore sight to see. The man in the casket’s sharp features were somehow so soft, now that life had been whisked away from him. His orange hair somehow gained more vibrancy, more life, now that it had been properly washed and cleaned, not a mess of product.

“He was beautiful.” You had to admit, “In a severe kind of way.”

Kylo would much rather look at you, any day of the week.

“You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve showing up here.” Hux materialized at Kylo’s side, nearly vibrating with restrained rage.

Kylo couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have a brother killed – let alone a twin brother. He figured he would know the pain of losing a sister, but William truly was an unfortunate accident. If he were a kind man, he would have apologized then and there, would offer some sort of words of comfort.

But he was, in fact, not a kind man.

“If you still want Hell’s Kitchen, you’re more than welcome to have it.” You said softly, so softly, not taking your eyes off William, the much more gentle of the two Hux brothers.

William had always been an open secret, and you had never harbored any ill will over the man. You even shed a tear for the way his eyelashes brushed against his cheek, Kylo watched it slip down the side of your nose.

Hux looked at the two of you, and without releasing a breath he turned on his heel and snapped his finger for the two of you to follow him.

Kylo didn’t appreciate being beckoned like some animal, it brought him too many memories of the days where Snoke – he shook the thought from his head, steals a steadying squeeze of your hand, before holding open a door for you to pass through, out of the main room and down a dimly lit hallway which led to a small room that appeared to be the place where the children of the congregation were taught. Kylo didn’t know for sure, he wasn’t familiar with this layout.

“What do you want in exchange?” Hux asked, not facing either of you, not wanting you to see how affected he was by this death.

“My sister has gone out of control, she’s the one who murdered your brother.” Kylo spoke up, a lie which did its job in shocking the man into whipping his head around and taking two big strides to get entirely in Kylo’s personal space as he continued, “We need you to help us take her out. Avenge William’s death and get her out of our hair.”

Kylo had never noticed just how steely Hux’s eyes were, had never gotten close enough to look. They were red-rimmed, and that made the stormy blue-green-grey stand out even more, even in the low light of the empty classroom. He would agree with you, they were handsome brothers, if yes a little severe.

“A man who desires revenge should dig two graves.” Hux hissed, his teeth bared, face shaking.

“Will you do it?” Kylo really fucking hated repeating himself, but, if all went well, he won’t have to answer to Hux anymore, won’t have to answer to anyone anymore.

“Why all of a sudden?” Hux demanded, breathing hard, anger coursing through him. “What’s changed now?”

You were watching from Kylo’s side, watching to make sure Hux didn’t slide a dagger into Kylo’s ribs like he’s wont to do – always a fan of carving people up, that one was.

“She’s not one of us anymore, and she knows too much. She’s done too much. I’m more than happy to take care of her myself, but I thought as a sign of good faith, you might like to help since she’s been as much a thorn in your side as mine.” You said, taking over for Kylo, who, frankly, wanted to kill the weasel right there.

But just as Rey was useful for a time, so could Hux be.

“Where?” Hux asked, making Kylo’s plan only that much easier.

“The docks.” You replied, and then already anticipating his next questions, “Tonight, a quarter to nine.”

“That’s not enough time.” Hux shook his head, stepping back away from Kylo’s personal space finally. Kylo didn’t give him the satisfaction of making a show of how relieved he was.

“That’s all the time we have.” Kylo spoke up honestly.

“Quarter to nine.” You reiterated, “Be there, or consider Hell’s Kitchen off the table, permanently.”

The three of you stared down one another, stared and stared and stared, stared and waited for him to agree. Kylo could cut the tension with a knife, if he had one. Instead all he had were guns strapped to his chest ready to be fired at any moment.

“Quarter to nine.” Hux eventually agreed, a curt nod of his head.

The church bells chimed, and that was your cue to leave.

You held Kylo’s hand tightly and made your way out back into the hallway, pausing just before you were fully out to turn back and regard the mob boss with genuinely sad eyes.

“Mr. Hux?” You asked for his attention for just a moment more to say, “We’re very sorry for your loss.”

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

It was pouring rain, when Kylo snuck you out of the church through a side exit, where Dopheld was waiting with an open umbrella. He was close behind you as you rushed under the shelter of the downpour, the water freezing cold in the autumn wind.

The weather had taken a dramatic turn, but one that would be beneficial for the main event tonight, one that would aid in his plan. Because of Dopheld’s quick thinking and preparedness, you had not a drop of water on you, and you snuggled up to Kylo’s side happily, digging through your purse.

You always kept on your person a small film cannister, one of the dark plastic ones that protected film from the harmful rays of the sun. However, instead of 35mm negative, it rattled with small chips, little plastic cards that you poured onto your hand, leaved through with your nail.

Kylo watched in awe as you found the one you were looking for, and as Dopheld zipped through the streets, you popped it into the burner phone Kylo handed you. You both watched as the phone powered on, a blank thing that only was ever used for times like this, plans like these.

You scrolled through the list of contact on the sim card, stopped when you found the name you were looking for.

Kylo was always amazed with the speed that you could type at. He hated shit dealing with phones, hated it. He didn’t like calling, and while he preferred texting, he didn’t actually like texting. His fingers were too big for the buttons, he was convinced.

But he looked over your shoulder, rested his chin there, nuzzled his cheek against yours.

Shayna punim, can you do me a favor tonight?

Your finger was hovering over the keyboard, waiting to send a reply as soon as the text came through, ready to spring, ready to get this over with.

Rey was a notoriously fast texter as well, and it was only a matter of the traffic light turning green for a response to be sent.

Is everything okay Ima?

You smiled wide, and Kylo could feel the excitement bubbling up in him. It was really happening, he was really going to get the chance to do it, to do the one thing he had been waiting years for.

You typed back quickly, but no so quickly that it would be suspicious, Leia wasn’t exactly the world’s finest technology expert, and it usually took her a short moment to respond anyway.

Yes, sorry it’s so last minute, I’m expecting a delivery from the furrier we know, you know the nice Italian fellow?

Ma I didn’t know you were still running business ???

If anyone asks, I’m not.

When do you need me there?

8:55 sharp. Boat will show up at nine. Don’t tell Kylo. Delete these texts – we never had this conversation.

I love you.

I love you too.

You deleted the text messages from the burner phone, and powered it off so the GPS wouldn’t be able to be tracked. Kylo watched as you popped the sim card out of the burner phone, and tucked everything back into its place inside your bag.

“Do you think she’ll do it?” He asked softly, reaching for you, hand grasping around your wrist, just feeling your pulse.

“She’ll do it.” You nodded, turning your body towards him, tugging on his earlobe playfully with your free hand before sighing, “But I have to go to the police before she does, we need alibis.”

Kylo groaned loudly in the backseat of the Bently, thudding his head on your shoulder. This was his least favorite part of the plan – the part where you two had to split up. You had to be bait, had to be a distraction, one convincing enough to stall for time.

“Honey can’t we literally do anything else?” He complained, voice deep deep deep and aggravated. He wanted a cigarette, and cursed the rain for not letting him open the car window without him getting soaked.

“No darling, I have to distract them so you can take care of the job.” You kissed his face sweetly, kissed him to calm him down. “You need to rough me up. I’ll go in saying I got robbed.” You announced, making him pull back.

“I love you but are you out of your mind?” He frowned, now desperately needing a fucking cigarette.

“Kylo, please?” You whined, pouted as if he were being mean for denying you this, “Just make it look like someone attacked me.”

“That would mean I have to attack you, and no.” Kylo was firmly resolute in this, and you knew it. He knew you knew it.

“Well I very well can’t punch myself in the face, that’s not very realistic.” You complained, before getting that look in your eye, a look of an idea that Kylo knew meant trouble. “Dopheld, pull over.”

“No, absolutely not.” Kylo shook his head at once, shooting daggers of a glare at the poor driver who was now glancing back with concern.

“Dopheld, please, pull over somewhere dark.” You said, and fuck, dammit all, the nice boy was doing as he was told, albeit it with shaking hands.

He pulled into an alleyway that he happened to know, another one of your little hiding spots that Kylo kept under control. There was just enough cover there that you didn’t get immediately drenched when you left the warm comfort of the car to go stand expectantly, Kylo clamoring out to meet you.

Dopheld got out of the car too, and waited for whatever insane order you were going to give next.

And insane it was, because you lifted your chin and squared your shoulders, looked your driver dead in the eye and asked, “Can you please attack me?”

Dopheld was shocked, stunned even. Kylo appreciated that about the boy.

“…Excuse me?” He squeaked out, swallowing a hard lump in his throat, clutching his little hat in his hands, trying to avoid getting rained on.

“Attack me, knock me to the ground, you know.” You gestured with your hands, presented yourself to him with open palms to show you wouldn’t retaliate. You needed to be injured convincingly, needed to have some reason to go to the police – but this was just out of the realm of possibility for what Kylo was willing to allow.

“Dopheld don’t you fucking dare.” Kylo growled, and now the poor boy was torn.

“Oh gosh I don’t – ” His hands rung the hat in front of him, but you sighed.

“This is a direct order Dopheld.” You reminded him, not unkindly.

“Dopheld if you lay one finger on her I’ll cut it off and I’m not kidding.” Kylo hissed, definitely unkindly.

“Fuck you’re both so scary I don’t know what to do!” He finally lamented, pacing back and forth, weighing his options.

“Kylo go back in the car.” You kissed your husband’s cheek, making him scoff.

“No!” He shook his head. He knew you only wanted him in the car so he wouldn’t immediately strangle the kid, wouldn’t immediately snap the bones in his hands for harming you. But it wouldn’t work, he wouldn’t --

“Ahh!” Dopheld shouted and lunged forward, fist swinging as he jumped at you, knocked you to the filthy pavement of the alley, already apologizing, shocked with his behavior. “I’m so sorry, oh my god I’m so sorry Mrs. Ren.”

Kylo grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, and hoisted him up against the wall of the alley, fully prepared to choke the life out of him.

“Kylo put him down.” You ordered from the floor, voice firm but powerful, “Kylo, I mean it.”

He dropped the boy and immediately helped you up, brought you to your feet and brushed the wet gravel away from your beautiful body. Dopheld had gotten you pretty good, hit you in the nose hard enough to make it bleed even though it thankfully wasn’t broken.

Still, the sight of you in any state other than perfect bliss was like murder to Kylo’s own heart, and though you had demanded it, though you had explicitly asked for it, he can still feel the white hot pulse of rage creep up around his eyes.

“I don’t like seeing you like this.” Kylo’s body shakes, pent up rage, angry angry angry at the way your blood is dark and glinting in the streetlamps.

When had the sun set, he wonders? Had time really flown by so much between all the errands and the traffic that it was already time to part? His anxiety spiked, he didn’t want to be away from you, he didn’t want to have you sitting like a duck surrounded by those fucking cops.

“I know honey, I know, but it’s going to be for the better, I promise.” You soothed him, sensing his distress with the way his breath was coming in short sharp pants.

He crushed you to his chest, wrapped his arms around you, that wild monstrous thing in him just wanting to kill, wanting to maim, wanting to coax forth blood on the streets. You knew, and you didn’t discourage it, only redirected it, reminded him that this energy could be used productively, could be used wisely.

“Thank you Dopheld, now take me to the station.” You said, ushering everyone back into the car.

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

Dopheld stopped the car about a block away from the precinct. It had been decided that you would walk, through the rain, without your purse, without anything, to give the illusion that you had had all your belongings stolen. Kylo had asked Dopheld to pull over so you could go through all the weapons on your person and removed them, that way if the cops searched you they wouldn’t find anything interesting.

Your nose was still bleeding, and Kylo was still seeing red.

“Listen to me.” You whispered, cupping his cheeks with your palms, kissing him and smearing your blood in his mustache, your lips smudging your words against his own, “I know you. I know how you are. Just kill her and come back to me, do you understand?”

“Okay.” He nodded, already thinking about when he’ll be able to be by your side again.

He wanted to get this over with quickly, efficiently. His part was only one small piece to this, the initial piece, he couldn’t take too much time with it, otherwise he’d be a suspect, he’d be suspicious.

“I know this means a lot to you, we can celebrate once the dust has settled, but I cannot under any circumstances have you put yourself in a position where you’ll get caught.” You read his mind, whispered as though no one in the whole world could hear but him.

“I know.” He nodded, a shuddering breath calming him enough to get the rush of blood to stop pounding in his ears for all of two minutes as he agreed, “I’ll kill her and come right to you.”

You kiss him passionately, strongly, your mouth a force to be reckoned with as it opened for you. He could taste the blood on your teeth, licked up in a frenzy, like some shark sensing its prey. But you were no prey, not by a long shot, and you kissed him like you owned him – because you did.

“I love you so much, I’m so in love with you.” You were almost in tears with emotion, real, true, genuine emotion, as your hands smoothed down his suit jacket and your eyes shone with pride as you laid it obvious to him with, “I’m so proud of you.”

“Don’t be proud of me yet.” Kylo only had the strength to let you go just this once, and he knew if he didn’t let you leave now, he never would, and you would both just have to flee the country and deal with these consequences another time. “Now go. I’ll be back soon.”

There could not be another time, the clock was ticking, Kylo knew. He checked his watch.

You give him one more kiss for reassurance, and then you’re out the door. Not taking an umbrella, not taking your purse – hell, not even taking your coat against the bitter frigid rain, you walked proudly and unflinchingly through the downpour, towards the station.

Kylo and Dopheld watched and waited until they could not see you anymore, until you were firmly so far out of their sight that the race really had begun.

“Mr. Ren?” Dopheld’s voice piped up from the driver’s seat, his eyes concerned in the rearview mirror.

“Yes?” Kylo ground out, his gaze steadily tracked on the way the water sleeted down against the windows of the bentley.

“For what it’s worth, it’s been an honor to be your driver, sir.” Dopheld said with a sigh, and Kylo frowned, wondering what the hell he could mean until – oh. Right.

“I’m not going to kill you, Dopheld.” He assured the boy, with more gentles than he would probably have given, were he not genuinely a nice and competent kid.

“Oh!” The relief in Dopheld’s voice was almost enough to make Kylo smile, that pure unadulterated joy at getting to live another day. It wasn’t something Kylo was used to hearing, wasn’t an experience those who dealt with him were used to having, but still that joy is there, and Dopheld puts the car in drive once more, pulls away from the side-street where you were no longer visible. “Thank you, sir.”

“To the docks, please.” Kylo said, hands curling around the empty space where your body should be.

Soon, he thought to himself, soon he’ll be back with you.

That’s all he wanted, was to be with you.

They were silent in the car on the drive over. Kylo busied himself by loading up his guns, gloves on and careful to avoid getting the poison which coated the bullets anywhere near his skin. There wasn’t enough to fully load both his guns, so he filled the remainder with normal bullets. If he were in the mood to be dramatic, he’d make a game of it, a Russian roulette style death.

But there was no time to be dramatic, not tonight. He didn’t mind so much, he’d be celebrating for the rest of his life anyway.

He checks his watch in the dark, as Dopheld pulls up to a side entrance down near the river, the ships still, the place empty except for the pounding of the rain. The rain was good, it meant no one would be there, no one who shouldn’t be there, anyway. He didn’t need any witnesses fucking this up.

He gets out of the car without a word, hangs back underneath the shelter of a large storage shipping container. Hadn’t you once told him that rich people were converting those into tiny houses or something? He didn’t know, but he felt like it would be terribly fucking uncomfortable for him, he nearly was as tall as the damn thing.

He checked his watch again, and when the clock read exactly a quarter-til, Hux stepped out of the shadows, an umbrella over his head. Kylo wasn’t surprised, Hux was in the same suit he had seen him in earlier, no doubt having just come from the funeral.

“When?” Hux asked by way of greeting, wanting his revenge, wanting it now.

“Ten minutes.” Kylo replied, and Hux nodded.

Hux looked so eerie, standing there under a lamp post, the rain beating down on him. Kylo wondered if he painted such a picture, if he were so intimidating. If you were there you would have told him, he knew Hux would never give him the satisfaction.

“What are you going to do?” Hux asked, genuinely curious, from across the dock.

“I’m going to shoot her.” Kylo shrugged, and Hux’s face pinched up in anger.

“That’s not fucking fair.” He scoffed, but Kylo rolled his eyes, wondered if Hux could see.

“It won’t kill her, it’s only going to slow things down.” He explained, and Hux took a step forward, as if he were about to whisper a secret to Kylo and not shout it across the dock through the rain.

“She’s the rat, isn’t she?” He asked.

Kylo didn’t want to dignify that with a response. It was bad enough having a rat in the family like Han had been, openly blatantly selling his family out to the highest bidder. But it was even worse to have two rats, the second one much more secretive, stealthy, conniving. To have it happen under a cloak under your nose, to have it go on for years and years and be totally unaware.

“Make it painful.” He said instead, and even from across the dock, Kylo could see the fury in his eyes.

“After what she did to William?” Hux shook his head, “She’ll be unrecognizable.”

And with that, both men retreated to the shadows once more, only having to wait a few more minutes before this plan could come to fruition.

Rey showed up at exact eight-fifty-five, as you had instructed her to. And, stupidly, it looked like she didn’t bring any backup. But why would she, when she was just meeting with a furrier her mother had arranged? She stood with her umbrella near the edge of the dock, watching water slosh up against the concrete barrier, the river tide rising from the rain. Not enough to be dangerous, but enough to capture her attention long enough for Kylo to take in a deep breath.

Without wasting any more time, he stepped out from behind the big shipping crate, walked across the dock to stand underneath a streetlamp. She didn’t hear him for a moment, the sound of the rain too heavy around her. It was only the sound of the gun trigger being cocked that caught her attention – that sound was impossible to miss.

She turned around, and held her breath. She had to have known that this was coming, you had done a good enough job of telling her she was caught. Maybe she had anticipated you waiting longer? Maybe she had thought you would have controlled Kylo?

On either account, she was wrong.

“What are you doing here?” She asked anyway, as if she didn’t know.

“Picking up some furs.” Kylo replied.

He fired all ten rounds in the glock straight into her. The silencer he had attached to the end of the gun was almost pointless, as thunder cracked and lightning split across the sky.

If he were a more religious man, Kylo thought that maybe this tempest would be a sign of his wrongdoing. But he was not, and it read far more like a celebration of his actions than anything else.

Rey fell to the ground immediately, clutching at her wounds. There was so much blood, it poured absolutely fucking everywhere, but the rain washed it away, washed it down the dock and into the river. The poison on the bullets paralyzed her enough that she couldn’t scream, something which Kylo was grateful for. He didn’t need the police being alerted early, didn’t need them being told ahead of schedule what was going on.

Kylo walked across the way to where his snake of a sister writhed on the floor, and crouched down next to her.

“You should have been smarter than this.” He shook his head.

He took his token from the kill, as he always did, and wrapped it neatly in a handkerchief before he stood again and turned towards the shipping container where he knew Hux was waiting, watching.

“All yours.” He said to the man, gave him a nod in his direction.

He could see the cleavers that Hux held, could see how they shone polished steel in the night.

And without another word, he made his way back to the car where Dopheld was ready with a clean pair of clothes and a cigarette.

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

He’s in a proper frenzy, by the time he made it to the precinct. The kill wasn’t one nearly as torturous as some of his others, not nearly as drawn out, as painful. But he was still flying high, his adrenaline pumping in his veins. He had done it, he had fucking done it. He was exhausted but exhilarated at the same time and he knew there would be a shitstorm ahead of him for it, he knew there would be consequences for it – but this one, this one thing, these fucking cops, wouldn’t be one of them.

He was in a clean suit when he barged into the station, and it wasn’t difficult for him to play the part of a concerned, angry husband. It wasn’t difficult for him to storm through the bullpen like he owned the place, wasn’t difficult for him to get foaming at the mouth furious at the thought that someone had ambushed you.

“Where the fuck is my wife?” He shouted, not giving a shit about anything, not caring about one bit.

The world needed to know that no one fucked with you, and though this was all staged, though this was all fake – that message was one thing he wanted absolutely crystal fucking clear.

“Mr. Ren! Please – sir you must – ” One of the cops he didn’t recognize tried to stop him, but Kylo shoved him away.

“(Y/N)? – You!” Kylo caught sight of one of the police officers, Poe, one of the ones he needed to keep occupied for a little while longer. Poe took stock of Kylo’s rage and decided that now was not the time to employ petty banter. “Where the fuck is she? What happened to her? Is she alright?”

With each step that he takes that isn’t closer to you, he begins to grow panicked for real, begins to worry for real. Poe just walked, walked and walked back through the station, leading Kylo to you, to where you were.

“She’s okay Kylo, where have you been? She’s been asking for you.” Poe sounded genuinely concerned, like he actually cared for once in his life.

That wasn’t fair, Kylo thought, many people cared about you. It was Kylo that Poe had a problem with, he never wanted you to know any harm.

“I was packing our bags, we’ve got tickets to fly to Paris tonight – take me to her?” Kylo lied.

It wasn’t entirely a lie, the bags were packed and the flight for Paris was in only a couple hours. Kylo wondered absentmindedly if there was blood underneath his fingernails.

Poe led him to an interrogation room where you were bundled up in blankets and given a mug of tea to keep warm, but the first sight of him, you abandon all of that and practically throw yourself into his arms. Finn was there with you, paperwork in front of him, no doubt going through the notions of filling out a police report.

When you and Kylo kissed, it was like the world slowed, like the orbit came to a halt, and nothing existed in time and space other than the way you shuddered against his lips, the way your arms wound around his shoulders.

“Honey, tell me everything, who did this to you?” Kylo asked, playing the part, keeping up the act.

You hiccupped and cried, cried and cried crocodile tears in front of the officers, in front of Finn and Poe who tried to avert their gaze to give you both some privacy as you made out.

“I think it was one of the Hux family, when they hit me their ring fell off, see?” You pointed to the ring that was wrapped up in an evidence bag on the table, asked for it. Finn gave it to you so you could hold it up to Kylo, so Kylo could see the ring that he had given you only the evening before, and you asked, “That’s their crest isn’t it?”

He pretends to not know for a moment or two, before groaning, before giving the ring back to Finn.

“It is, fuck (Y/N), you could have been killed.” He held your face between his hands, eyes searching yours.

He found nothing but perfect clarity there, and he tried to express nothing but the same.

If you could just get out of here, if you could just get on your private jet and fly off to Paris, then you would have won this game of cat and mouse, a game years in the playing.

“Can we go home?” You asked so sweetly, so softly, so sadly, that Kylo wanted nothing more than to whisk you away, especially as you gestured to the clothes which were now wrinkled in odd places from the drying rain. “I want to shower I feel disgusting.”

“Not yet, I’m sorry, we need to ask a few more questions.” Finn shook his head sympathetically, and you groaned.

“Can’t we answer them in the morning?” You asked, but this time Kylo shook his head.

“No honey, better do it now. We won’t be here in the morning.” He agreed with Finn, making you frown.

“What do you mean?” You asked, worried for a moment – worried that something had gone wrong, worried that the plan hadn’t worked.

But it had, and the look on your face, the pure shock, the real surprise of the evening when he pulled out the brochure and plane tickets for Paris, was the icing on the cake.

“Happy anniversary.” He said, kissing you, kissing you so softly that again Poe and Finn had to look away.

“Kylo! Shit, this flight is soon, darling you should have told me I would have packed – ” You were honestly so excited, nearly dropping the act, nearly forgetting yourself in front of the officers with the way you perked up.

“That’s what I was doing, I’m sorry I didn’t hear my phone.” Kylo said, which was a lie, but not really. The phone had been turned off so tracking wasn’t an issue, he still hadn’t turned it back on.

Just then, a random police officer stuck their head in the interrogation room, with a look of panic on her face.

“Officers Dameron, we need you right away.” She regarded Finn and Poe with a great deal of concern, and against their better judgement, they looked at one another and then back at you.

“Okay, you can go. Enjoy your flight and please, stay safe.” Finn said, placing a hand on your shoulder, collecting up the the paperwork and the ring that would lead them straight to Hux.

“Thank you Finn.” You said with watery eyes, grateful for his kindness.

And also maybe his naivety.

Kylo draped his coat over your shoulders to shield you from view, to shield you from the rain as he led you through the precinct. He wanted to tell you everything, wanted to show you, wanted to fuck you. He never felt this good after a killing, never felt this on fire after a murder.

But he waited, waited and waited and waited until Dopheld had the car door safely closed behind the two of you and you were barreling down the streets of Manhattan to the executive airport, where your private jet would whisk you away, and the troubles of life would be far behind – at least for a little while.

“Did you have fun?” You asked, eager, dropping all pretense of a damsel in distress, wiping your eyes with the back on your hand and letting a big grin split across your face.

“Let’s get you to Paris.” Kylo nodded, before he surged forward to kiss you.

As they drove down the rainy, ice covered streets, an entire team of police were heading the opposite direction, down towards the river, towards the docks.

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

It wasn’t until many many many hours later, when the connecting flights had been made on your private jets which had been prepared for a long sleep, when you had checked into the penthouse apartment in Paris, when you had fucked like rabbits and showered, changed into clean pajamas and crawled back into bed right when the sun was rising, did you bring it up.

The world around you bustled, people waking up and starting their day just as Kylo was content to sleep through it, jetlagged like he’d never been jetlagged before. It had been a long day, one of the longest days he’d had in a long fucking time. Hell, it’d been one of the longest weeks he’d ever had, he was sure.

But you smiled at him, you tucked yourself against his chest and smiled at him, and it was like the fatigue of it all felt a million miles away.

“How does it feel to win?” You asked, with the sunshine of the morning in Paris coming through the soft gauzy white curtains, making the entire room glow ethereal.

“Incredible.” He breathed out, because it did, it really really did.

“It’s the beginning of a new age for us, for all of us. You did that, you gave that to us.” You rolled him over, rolled the two of you onto your sides.

A beam of sunlight illuminated your face, and Kylo, the ever dutiful and loving husband he always had wanted to be, shifted so that his head would provide some shade for you. You grinned, grasped his hand and kissed his wedding ring, the only ring he wore.

“My entire life, all I’ve ever wanted…was to love you and make you proud.” Kylo whispered, an admission that he wasn’t one to make very often.

You sighed dreamily, nothing but pure love in your gaze as the soft sounds of bustling tourist traffic sounded outside the window on the streets below, people milling about the Eiffel Tower which you could see from your bed in the penthouse.

“There isn’t a day that goes by where I’m not proud of you, Kylo.” You tell him truthfully, made Kylo’s heart beat that much quicker as you pulled him down for a kiss, kissed him again and again, over and over, “My handsome, strong, capable, intelligent, wonderful, Kylo Ren.”

You looked at the token on the night stand, the little round thing in a glass jar. Kylo followed your gaze, and felt the rush of victory surge through him all over again. He was too exhausted to be able to do anything other than kiss you, too tired to really have the celebration he wanted.

So instead, he kissed you, held your face in his hands and smothered you with his love.

“They say an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind.” Kylo chuckled against your lips, a terrible pun at the expense of his sister. The attempt at humor made you beam, made you practically fucking fly over the moon, to hear him laugh.

“Yes,” You agreed, because they did say that. And it might have been true, it might have been, “But only if each eye is yours.” You winked.

When the week was over, Kylo would bring you home. He’d bring you home and you’d face the storm of whatever was to come. But in that moment, with the sun shining and the birds chirping, with his dead traitor of a sister’s unblinking gaze put away in a drawer in a nightstand in Paris, Kylo found that he didn’t even need to check his watch.

Instead, he simply let himself be wrapped up in you, his best friend, his lover, his wife.

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

Epilogue will be up tomorrow! @adamsnackdriver @dreamboatdriver @kyloxfem @heldcaptivebychaos @solotriplets @formerly-anonhamster @lookinsidemyhead @candycanes19 @adamsnacc-kler @taylovren-types @whiskey-bumblebee @riseofkylo @magikevalynn @tinyplanet-explorers @chelsjnov @romancedeldiablo @helloimindelaware @elfieboxcat @laurenshit @autumnlovesadam @peterisparker @mp938368 @hidingp @goodboybensolo @intrestellarsarah @the-marvelatic @miasera @emily-strange @proxyfoxy @insanita @disaster-rose @hazydespair @yosoymuyloca @1-800-choke-that-snoke

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren/reader #kylo ren fanfiction #kylo ren smut #mob boss au #mob kylo #mob boss kylo #mafia au #my writing #kylo x reader #kylo/reader #kylo ren #each eye

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gustafsnightangel · 4 years

Text

A Softer Side Part 1

Karl was done with Delos Incorporated and their “Westworld”, the entire clusterfuck that had been the slice of a fictional western. Sure the pay was good, he’d thought the progression of his career would have been better, but as it turned out, they were all a bunch of computer nerds and fucking loonies playing god with AI. He was glad to see the back of that contract and sighed heavily as he stepped into his office.

“Back to the fucking grind.” He muttered as he sat at his desk, the depressing grey paint making the room appear much smaller and that much more suffocating.

It wasn’t that he hated his job, he thought as he logged into his computer to open his current case load, it just lacked excitement, something different to keep his mind sharp, his skills honed. He felt as if he was stagnating, the job had become monotonous. Bad guy fucks up, go out and catch bad guy, put bad guy in prison, watch bad guy walk on legal technicalities. If only he could be permanently attached to the private sector that caught the bad guys and shipped them off to Hades 6 or Hera 4, off planet facilities that housed the most wicked criminals.

******

Deep into catching up on a case there was a soft tap at the door. “Hey boss.”

Strand glanced up briefly and went back to the report he was reading. “Jerry.” He said his tone terse.

“I think you’re going to want to see this.” He said with a grim face.

“You think, or you know?” He growled, if there was one thing Karl hated it was indecisiveness. He was brutally honest, abrasive, and when it was called for violent. He expected people to get to the point quickly, hand over the information, and then fuck off until he needed them, never one for gossip or dancing around the topic. Most hated him for it, his boss didn’t, which was the only reason he still had a job after Westworld.

“I know.” Jerry said, finding his spine and stepping into Karl’s office and closing the door.

“Give me the short version.” Karl said as Hunt handed him the report, skimming over the highlights as Jerry told him much the same.

“It aligns with a semi cold case I’ve had on my desk for the past few months. There’s something about that one I couldn’t let go, you know?”

“I know.” He did, he had a few of them himself that he even took with him when he went over to the Delos debacle. Some just never leave you.

“I’m sure it’s the same gang as the Peter Jenson case. Location fits, state of the neighborhood etc.” Jerry fidgeted, antsy to get going.

“You want to check it out?” Karl asked and his brow furrowed at the witness account he was currently reading. Something about this called to him, there was more going on, that undeniable itch between the shoulder blades he couldn’t ignore.

“If you clear it yeah I wanna go poke around.” Jerry said with a touch more confidence. He was a good kid even though he was still so rookie green.

“I’ll come with.” He growled, slightly distracted as he pulled up one of his own cold cases.

“Something chimed for you too didn’t it?” Jerry smirked.

“Maybe, and that’s a big maybe. We all have cold cases Jerry and we have to go where the gut feelings take us.” He opened the file and flipped through to the infants description even though he knew it by heart as if the child had been right in front of him, not that she’d look anything like it now thirty plus years later. “Get your coat.” He breathed. Could it be her? “And wipe that damn smile off your face this isn’t a fucking social visit.” The rookie’s face dropped as he scurried away to collect his coat and notebook. “Talk to me sweet girl.” He murmured. “I’m looking for you, I haven’t given up, talk to me.” Closing out his case file he grabbed his weapon and coat and headed for the elevator. He was in a mood, she always put him in a mood, and the kid had copped it. “Sorry.” He said gruffly as they stood in the elevator.

“Sok, I was an idiot and you were right. This isn’t a social visit.” Jerry mumbled.

Karl stared at the ceiling and sighed to clear his head, he’d have to knock the green off this kid fast if he was going to make it past his first year as his partner. “You know they stuck you with an asshole of a partner right?”

“No, they stuck me with the best.” Hunt said quietly as he strode off the elevator toward their car leaving Strand standing there in slight disbelief.

“Well shit!” Muttering he walked to the car, his long strides eating up the concrete, he didn’t like compliments either. He wasn’t the best, far from it, he was an asshole and preferred it that way.

******

The car ride to the house was quiet, Karl driving while Jerry ran a cursory search over the tenant and told him what they could expect.

“A Mr. Arthur Donovan lives in the house alone, has always lived there alone since his wife died in childbirth. Damn that’s rough.”

“Dig into Mr. Donovan.” He growled as the traffic came to a standstill. “Priors, arrests, blips, fucking everything. I want to know what he had for breakfast three years ago on April 22.” The itch between his blades was tingling. What were they walking into a trap, fire fight, bomb? Something was off.

“Your spidey senses tingling boss?” Jerry asked as his fingers flew across the keys.

“My what?” He glared at the rookie.

“Spidey senses, you know, Spider-Man.” Jerry dropped it once he saw the murderous look on Strand’s face. “Never mind.” He sighed. “Mr. Arthur Donovan, age 64, retired janitor at multiple women’s and children’s hospitals. That must have been rough after his wife died.”

“Same work history, different name. And that’s if he even had a wife.” Karl muttered, his fingers tapping the steering wheel in frustration. “Check the wife.”

“Wife, Aileen Donovan, wow pretty girl, died giving birth to a baby girl who also died, she was 27.” Jerry stopped and looked at Strand. “Wait, you think this is him? The dude that’s been kidnapping infant girls for the last thirty something years and raising them up to be sold?” Jerry’s voice caught.

“If the shoe fits.” Karl snarled as the traffic eased forward at a snails pace. It fit, a little too well and why would he go back to his real name, or was he changing the name of his wife along with it all?

“That’s one of your colds isn’t it?” The kids voice was gentle.

“Yeah.” He didn’t elaborate, how could he tell this kid that thought he was a god among men that he’d almost had the guy and watched him skate, slip through the net he’d cast because he was still too green himself to know any better.

“Shit boss. This makes my gang banger case look like nothing.” Hunt said quietly. “They’ve been after that guy for decades.”

“It isn’t nothing, you follow all leads, you do the job, you pursue every possible angle. My cold case isn’t anymore important than you fresh one. They both matter.” Snarling at the traffic Karl flicked on the lights, pulled onto the verge and got them out of the jam. It wasn’t exactly by the book and at times Karl didn’t give a shit, especially when he might be close to finding her.

******

They pulled up out the front of Arthur Donovan’s house and sat for a hot minute. Karl scanned the area taking note of the exits, neighbors, foot traffic and lack there of.

“You just know he has to have an escape plan.” He muttered more to himself than to Jerry. “Go knock on the door and ask your questions. If it’s the same guy he might know what I look like and I don’t want him spooked.” He said lowering the seat back so he wouldn’t be seen if Arthur looked in the car. “Call my cell and leave the line open. And before you ask, no this isn’t standard operating procedure. I don’t want him to rabbit if he smells something off. Go in ask your questions about your case only.”

“Sure.”

“I mean it Jerry. You say anything about those kids, that case we may lose the first fresh lead we’ve had in nearly twenty years.” He glared at the kid.

“Message received boss.”

“Get your head in the Peter Jensen case, that’s where it needs to be.”

Strand watched as the kid dialed his cell number and climb out of the car. Placing his call on mute he relaxed back and let the case filter through his mind. “Don’t blow this for me kid.” He sighed. Was she in there, he wondered, was she even still alive? “Yeah she’s still alive.” He sighed as he heard the knock on the door through the cell phone. “She was his first, she has to still be alive.” Karl listened to Jerry ask his questions, press for some details, and leave it at a ’were just door knocking for any information on Peter Jensen’. Karl would have pushed a little harder, but that was Karl, he was a hard ass and would make a stone cower given enough time.

“Is he watching?” Strand asked as Jerry got into the car.

“Yeah, it spooked him. I’m sorry.”

“You did good kid. Now we go back to the office and dig. I want fucking everything on this guy and how it correlates to those girls. Something’s fucking off.”

“It felt like it when I was standing there. An odd sense something wasn’t quite right.”

“Learn to take note of those feelings, they’re rarely wrong. If he’s not involved with my case or yours, he’s involved in something he shouldn’t be.” Karl looked at the kid. “He still watching?”

“Not that I can see without it being obvious. The curtains are flat and still.” He said typing furiously to get his notes into his report while they were fresh.

“Good enough.” Karl raised his seat, turned the key in the ignition, and drove off barely giving anyone looking in the car enough time to be sure it was him driving. “When we get back write up your report on Jensen and then read the file on Jane Doe 69384.”

“Your cold?”

“Yeah, we need to dig and dig deep, you want in?”

“Fuck yeah.” Jerry was all but vibrating in his seat. “I know some of it from the news reports.”

“Not all of it kid, there was a lot we left out, deliberately.” He set the car to cruise and relaxed back. “Read the file, then we’ll talk. This gets our attention until we run out of leads again or catch the son of a bitch.”

“We catch him this time.” Jerry said gently. “This time he goes away.”

The kids sentiment choked Karl up, this case had him by the balls. If only I had your faith in me kid, he thought inwardly. I’ve failed her so many times now I’ve lost count.

“Does it keep you awake at night?” Jerry asked.

“Yes.” He didn’t elaborate, the kid didn’t need his nightmares, he would have ones of his own soon enough.

******

Strand left Jerry to do as he’d instructed and headed into his office to start digging into Arthur Donovan. Jerry had sent him over everything he’d found on their drive over to Donovan’s and it set that itch alight as he scanned the hospitals he’d worked at. “You fucker.” He seethed. “You careful fucker.” The hospitals didn’t match while he was working there, the timeline was off for each snatch by two or three months after he’d moved on. “No way was it going to be that easy.” He poured over the entire case file, witness reports from the mothers, hospital staff, forensic evidence, which wasn’t much, and it was tugging on heartstrings no one knew he had. Karl Strand was a hard ass, he didn’t have heart strings, except for her, except for these poor girls that had been snatched from loving parents and used and abused before being sold like cattle. Yes he had fucking heart strings for them and a raging hatred for the man that had eluded him for so long.

Jerry knocked on his door and handed him the report on the Jensen case and looked at the twelve banker boxes of files stacked in the corner of Strand’s office. “Can I take one?”

“Sure. Each box holds about ten case files.”

“He’s taken that many?” The rookie visibly blanched.

“Yeah, he’s slowed down in the past few years. I used to get about three new cases a year before I left for that Westworld shithole. I’m hoping it stays quiet and we don’t have to add anymore.”

“Hard fucking same.” Jerry hesitated before placing a hand on one of the boxes, the kid had respect for the dead, that was what endeared him to Karl. They weren’t just case files or a job, they were people.

“Their stories aren’t pretty.”

“No, I imagine not. Did they ever find the ones that were sold?”

“No, were still looking.” Karl’s tone was flat, something else he’d failed at. Though it was difficult to find someone when you knew nothing about them or what they looked like. “The DB’s are likely related, there’s no way to be sure until we have him in a cage and put the thumb screws to him.”

“Who are you looking for?” He asked tentatively.

“His first.”

“Makes sense.”

“How so?” It intrigued him that the rookie would say that.

“Pedifiles, sex rings, human trafficking, the perpetrators almost always keep their first one close. It reminds them of the power they have, the ease at which they achieved abducting the person. It’s also, most of the time, their undoing. If you find her she’s going to know everything about every child that he stole, every in and out of his operation. She’s the linchpin.”

Spoken like a thirty year veteran, Karl thought. “You’ll do.” He said nodding. “You’ll do just fine kid.” The slight smile told Strand, Jerry was keeping his jubilation at being praised to a minimum, the kid was trying. “Book a conference room, set it up, get reading, I’ll be in shortly. We work this until it goes cold again or we nail this asshole.”

“I’m down with that boss.” Jerry stopped at the door before he went through it and turned to Karl.

“What is it?”

“Do you think the neighbors might have seen her?” He asked meekly.

“I doubt it, but we’ll certainly be asking when we canvas.” He nodded his head to Jerry to say get out and went back to his own report to Meekland.

An hour or so later Meekland knocked on Strands door. “Ma’am.” He offered a seat but she remained standing, that glint in her eye that she wasn’t in the mood for bullshit.

“You’re testing my patients Strand. Do you really have time to open this case, again?” She asked. Meekland wasn’t some girly girl, she was just as much a hard ass as Strand which was why they go along so well even if it was just sniping at each other. The reality of it they were oil and water.

“I do with Hunt. Somethings off. The kid has good instincts and even he knew something’s screwy when he interviewed Donovan. I’m not saying it’s him, but it damn well could be and I’m not letting it slide because you think I don’t have time. I’ll fucking make time, do it on my own if I have to, but I need to run this out. See where it leads.” He ran his hand over his scalp. “I have to fucking try.”

“Cross you t’s, dot your i’s, and send me a report once you’ve dug into it a bit. I can’t promise you resources, but plead your case and I’ll see what I can do.”

“I have resources if you can’t swing it.” He growled.

“I know you do, but let’s not go that far until we have no other choice.” She studied him a moment. “You’re a good man Strand, even if you are a prickly asshole.” She smirked at his huffed chuckle, that coming from her was as good as winning employee of the year award. “Keep me in the loop.” She said as she turned on her heel and left.

******

Karl walked into the smaller conference room a while later to see Jerry kicked back with a coffee, feet on the table, note pad and case files piled into sections. Maybe a fresh set of eyes was what this case needed he thought.

“Hey boss.” He said without looking up from the current file he had his nose buried in, hand scrawling notes of his own.

“Care to explain what you’re doing with my case files?” He growled.

Without missing a beat he stood and added the file in his hand to one of the stacks. “So I’ve gone through your notes from when these cases came in, the hospitals, as that seemed a good place to start. It’s related to the case more strongly than his name or residence. Each stack is each hospital he abducted children from. There’s one pattern that fits all of these hospitals, the first child was stolen on the date his wife and child died. He only takes girls and there is about a two to three month window where the girls go missing which if I were to guess would be the wife’s birthday and their anniversary. Only three kids per hospital, then he packs up and leaves.”

“But the girls go missing after he finished his employment at each hospital. For example he was in Atlanta working when the girls from Alabama went missing.” Karl pushed.

“I’m guessing he has a house somewhere where he can leave the kids with someone so he can scout the next location.”

“That’s a leap Hunt.”

“I know but...” He shrugged as Karl stuffed his hands in his pockets and stared at the board.

“It’s a leap I didn’t see.” He sighed. “Run it through, work it, see where it leads you. I wonder if he leaves them with the first girl?” He pondered. “She’d be mid thirties now at least.”

“Brainwashed, tortured, and raised by a monster.” Jerry muttered.

“Indeed. Keep working it, I’ll be back in a few.” He needed some air, and food. Maybe I’m too close, he thought as he stopped off at the burger joint down the street. The memory of the kids mother screaming, grieving in his arms as she begged him to find her, the stupid rookie in him promising her he’d do so. The infant had already been gone sixteen years when he was handed the case, many more had been stolen in that time, the cops too busy to listen to a hysterical mother. The investigation went cold and it was only after the mother visited him to see if there were any developments that he began to dig, on his own time, every night an hour after shift had finished. That’s when he’d uncovered more, when he’d found the details horrific enough to churn even his iron stomach. No one had listened to the mother of the first child taken. She’d been told she was delusional, she was depressed, she was mistaken. Karl had been the one to bust it wide open. Bust it open to watch it go stone fucking cold as things in the department were kept under wraps, swept under the rug, buried. He’d always wondered if it was an inside job or some of the people here were in on it.

That girl would be a few years younger than he was now, mid to late thirties. What do you look like, he wondered? Will I know you when I meet you? Will you help me take this asshole down or has he corrupted you so completely you’ll do anything to get back to him, protect him? “We have to find you first sweet girl.” He muttered as he got onto the elevator. “I will find you.” He swore.

******

Strand came into the conference room to find Jerry in the exact same position as before but with a laptop open and currently searching through a database of some kind.

“Fuel up kid.” He said gruffly and tossed the bag with a burger and fries on the only section of table that wasn’t covered by case files. “Keep the files clean.”

“Thanks.” He blew out a breath, grabbed the food and pushed his chair away from the table to give himself some room. They chowed down in silence and it was only after Jerry had finished and took a few deep breaths that he noticed Strand looking at him.

“You need to get some rack time, if you don’t come up for air it’ll consume you.” Karl said honestly.

“In a bit. I want to show you something.” He pressed a few keys on the laptop and walked Strand through his findings. “I had to dig for info on the wife, I don’t think Donovan’s his legal last name and I don’t think the wife had the child in a hospital. If they did it would be on record. Either that or he’s been changing it as he’s progressed, something along the lines of keeping her alive or with him maybe? Which tells me he either knows how to hack, or he’s got someone on the payroll to do it for him. Speaking of payroll, I want to dig for the money, how much to you think he makes per girl?”

“Six figures at least depending on the buyer.” Strand said flatly, it wasn’t a favorite topic of conversation, but he could see where the kid was going with this, they were dealing with a syndicate not just a lone operator. Something he’d floated past his old partner and it was dismissed just as quickly, that had sparked his curiosity at it being an inside job.

“I think it’s more than that. 120 girls in these boxes at let’s say $100K and change, that’s 12 mil, over thirty something years. It’s a drop in the bucket. I think we’re looking at closer to $800K to a mil per kid, maybe more, and I also think it depends of who they’re going to and at what age they’re sold at.” Jerry wasn’t smiling now.

“Experience and age.” He added bluntly.

“Yeah.” Jerry blew a breath out. “I can sniff through Donovan’s accounts, but I don’t know if I have enough for a warrant to cover my ass.”

“Not yet but we’ll add it to the list.” He tapped his finger on his knee thinking. “Go as deep into the financials as you can without sending up any red flags, keep in on the down low.”

Jerry nodded. “I also believe there are more kids we don’t know about.”

“Why do you say that?”

“A hunch. Three kids a year, ish. Those are the groomed ones, the ones raised to be, for a lack of a better term, a fuck toy for some sicko. Those would be the premium priced merchandise. How do they make their milk money? The day to day?”

“Fuck! You’ve got a point.” Strand stared at the board, why hadn’t he pushed this line of inquiry all those years ago? Now he really felt like an asshole.

“I’m running all homeless girls and kidnappings in the database against dates and places of each infant taken.”

“And?”

“We’re getting hits and it’s still not done.” He glanced at Karl. “I have no clue if they’re related to this case but it’s worth a look.”

“Damn right it’s worth a look.” He was angry at himself for not pushing it sooner. Pulling out his phone he called Meekland. She wasn’t happy at being disturbed at nine at night but that was the job. He laid it out for her and she agreed to come in for a briefing. “What else you got kid, you’re keeping the ace to yourself I can see it.”

“I think he’ll strike again, and soon.” Jerry blew out.

“He hasn’t in a few years what makes you so sure?”

“I think he may have been sick or taking a break, something happened to give him that gap. Retired and took a holiday? Maybe things were too hot? Think about it, his kids birthday is coming up. I have no record of an Arthur Donovan working at any hospitals in the last forever. He’s changed his name again, maybe he changed his supply source? I don’t know boss I’m just thinking out loud here.”

“Where’s he working?”

“That’s the thing, he’s not, he’s retired.”

“Still doesn’t stop him from taking babies.” Strand spat. “And what’s the bet he had different aliases for every day of the fucking week? This guys a ghost.”

“Which is why we need a warrant to dig into his financials and employment records of each hospital. He can change his name but his face is a different story. Facial recognition can pin him pretty solidly.”

“This had better be fucking worth dragging me back here Strand.” Meekland snapped as she walked in.

“Sit down Sarah and listen to the kid, don’t interrupt.” He snapped back. Jerry froze, talking to Karl was one thing but the boss lady, shit! Her arched eyebrow made Jerry gulp. “Go ahead Hunt.” Karl said his eyes never leaving hers.

Jerry gave Meekland the report almost verbatim.

“We need a warrant for what we’ve found and what we’re going to find when we keep digging.”

“Dig first, then the warrant.” She put up her hand. “You and I both know we don’t have enough for one right now. Get me more Jerry and you’ll get your warrant. It’s circumstantial at best but it has weight. Let’s tighten the grip before we spook him.”

“Stakeout.” Karl demanded. “I want him fucking tagged and monitored, I want to know his every fucking move even if I have to go do it myself.”

“You may have to, we don’t have the budget for this Karl.” She snapped. Was she fucking stonewalling him?

“Then I’ll do it on my own time Sarah. I’m not losing the one fucking lead we’ve got.” He snapped and stormed from the room toward his office, Meekland hot on his heels. Jerry was left in their wake and breathed out carefully before getting back to it.

“What is with you?” He raged as she closed his office door.

“What’s with me? You need to take a step back and think about who you’re addressing Strand.” She shot back.

“Don’t throw that in my face Sarah. Why do you fucking stonewall me at every turn on this, they’re solid leads.”

“Because you’re too close to this Karl and it’s consuming you. Yes they’re solid leads I’ll give you and Hunt that. It’s more than what we’ve had to go on in a long time, but we need more and you know it.”

“Then give me some surveillance and let me get it for you.” He snarled and snatched his head away as she went to touch him. He couldn’t get involved with her again, although his body yearned for it, his cock twitching.

“You and I need a good sweaty night together.” She purred, her fingers trailing the buttons of his dress shirt. “I’ve missed you.” He didn’t pull away this time as her fingers trailed his chest.

“You’ve missed my cock.” He quipped, the scent of her stirring his system.

Her smirk told him as much. “That too.”

His fingers gripped her chin firmly and he devoured that lush mouth, taking what he wanted. He’d missed her too, her taste, the feel of her around him. She was bad news, but he had little restraint when it came to her.

“Let me make you feel good sir.” She whispered, her hand dropping to palm his hardening length, her eyes searching his for approval.

“Did you lock the door?”

“Yes.”

He let her chin go and walked over to check it himself. This wasn’t the first or last time they’d do this here. It was a mutually beneficial relationship, strictly sex, no attachment, consensual. He’d never done anything she was uncomfortable with. Crooking his finger at her to come hither she did without question and sank to her knees as he pointed to the floor in front of him.

“There’s my good girl.” He growled, her eyes never leaving his. She was hungry for him, the desire in her eyes making him smirk. “On your knees.” Unzipping his suit pants he let them fall to the floor, his briefs following a moment later as she sank to her knees, eyes never leaving his. “Open.” He commanded quietly and watched as those perfect lips opened for him. He gave her the tip, that clever tongue darting out to lick and suck him, the sensation making him groan softly, fuck she felt good. It had been far too long. Sinking his fingers into her hair he fisted them there and plunged into her mouth. She never disappointed him, taking him all the way in and letting him fuck that pretty mouth as he wished. His hips pistoned hard until he was right on the edge of blowing his load and then pulled her off him, the slight whimper of disappointment echoed on her face. “You’ll get it all little one.” He growled. “Up.” He commanded and held out a hand for her to rise.

Turning them sharply he pinned her against the wall, her ass pressing into his erection. “We haven’t done it like this for a while.” He purred as he put her hands above her head against the wall and nipped her neck. “Is this what you want little one?”

“I want to make you feel good sir.”

“That’s not what I asked you.” He snarled, pinching her nipple painfully through her blouse as he bit her neck. “Is this what you want?” His fingers busy between her legs, stroking into her heat as the other cupped a breast harshly.

“Yes sir.” She moaned softly as his fingers moved her panties to the side and hiked her skirt up more to bunch at her waist. He moaned his approval at the thigh high stockings and suspenders and snapped them hard. Her small yelp making him grin.

“Spread your legs and drop your hips.” He murmured, the tone demanding her compliance. Taking a small step back from her, she did as she was instructed as he stroked his cock. He swiped his tip through her heat and circled her entrance, the soft whimpers making him harder. “Are you going to take all of me like a good girl?” He asked as he stood between her open thighs and snaked his hands under her shirt.

“Yes sir.” Came her breathy whisper.

His hands yanked down the bra until the straps dug into her shoulders and his hands were filled with her fleshy breasts. Fingers squeezed her nipples and rolled them as he inched inside her, the feel of her tight pussy enveloping him almost too much to bear. Once fully seated inside her he feasted on her neck as he thrust. He wasn’t a gentle lover, he liked it rough and hard, skating the dangerous line between pleasure and pain.

He gave her what she asked for, took what he wanted. Pounding into her with long deep strokes, his hand snaked up to grip her throat, the gentle squeeze his branding of her. “Mine.” He growled at her ear, that gravelly tone rumbling out of him.

“Please sir.” She whispered as her orgasm peaked.

“Please sir what?” He snapped, reminding her of who she was talking to.

“Please sir may I come?”

“No.” He wasn’t ready for it to end yet and continued to fuck her, taking his fill of her tight little pussy.

“Please sir.” She choked as she fought to hold it off.

“No.” He pounded into her, took her, claimed her. Her whimper turned into a soft cry as his finger moved from her nipple to her clit, the hand at her throat squeezing slightly harder. He felt her body tense, the internal fight to hold off her orgasm. Letting it ride for a few moments longer he nipped her ear before uttering the one command she desperately wanted. “Come.” He growled and she exploded around him, that tight pussy milking him as he pistoned his hips in fast hard strokes until he came. Riding her hard, the need to fuck to prolong their pleasure he pistoned his hips.

“Thank you sir.” She smirked and he slapped her ass.

“Don’t sass me.” His tone low and savage as he pressed her to the wall hard still inside her as they caught their breath.

“Come over this weekend, please? I miss you.” She said as they stood there.

“I can’t Sarah, you know we can’t.”

“Why because I’m your boss?” She played.

“That’s exactly why and you know it.” He scoffed and pulled out of her, the soft whimper from his exit made him smile. Straightening her panties he lowered her skirt over her hips and pulled his briefs and suit pants up. “It’s just sex Sarah, you know that too.”

Turning she rested against the wall while she tidied herself up. “I know, I just want a weekend where we can disappear and you can fuck my brains out.”

“Not right now.” There was too much going on. “This case is my priority.”

“Understood. I’m here when you need to blow off steam Karl. Thanks for the quick fuck, it’s what I needed.” She straightened his shirt collar and headed for the door, the gleam in her eyes telling him she wasn’t happy about being denied. “You get a week surveillance, not a second more, use it wisely. The rest is on your own time.”

“Copy that.” He smirked, who said screwing the boss didn’t get you anywhere.

@hausofobsession @ill-skillsgard @grandpa-sweaters @authentic90skidd @tuckersgirl @fairlyfallacy @flowers-in-your-hayr @raewritesfiction @stinkerbelle007 @kamie-b @mrsaugustwalker @skrsgardspam @loliwrites @trippedmetaldetector @lihikainanea @fay-walden

#Karl Strand fanfic #a softer side #gustaf skarsgard #sexy as fuck #all the feels

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feverinfeveroutfic · 3 years

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chapter twelve: finger lakes

a/n: had to split this chapter into two because so much happens. i'm not gonna dick around after posting this and just get to it on the next one - so make this second installment 47 chapters instead, oh my!

The guys were not exaggerating when they told Sam that the audiences were mostly men. For the next few dates, Sam and Zelda both stood off to the side to watch Stormtroopers of Death. Every night was an earful of orange styrofoam and a view to the sea of testosterone and moshing off to their right. Even after a few dates, Sam could feel a rigid schedule of sorts coming into fruition. Scott had barely written anything down but she knew what was to happen for the dates that made up the tour.

Every day it was wake up early and have breakfast, then walk around the town a bit, followed by a drive over to the next stop and a walk around there to check it out for themselves; some time in the middle of the afternoon, they made their way over to the venue, which was often within a few blocks away. Poughkeepsie was the only stop with a hotel: their next handful of stops as well as the one up in Albany, right up the road from there, had no hotel that was within their range.

“Which means we're gonna have to sleep in the car here,” Sam concluded when Charlie and Marla posted up in the alleyway behind the brick building.

“We can lay there in the back seat,” Marla suggested with her head turned towards him.

“Yeah, and I can lean back in the passenger seat there,” Sam chimed in.

“As long as we don't put our tootsies on those glass doves back there,” Charlie told them.

“They're hidden under the seat here, though,” Sam replied as she reached down between her legs and she touched those doves; the tips of her fingers brushed against the edges of their white wings. She kept the glass doves she had bought for her parents wrapped up in a knit sweater and she kept it tucked under the car seat. Charlie vowed to keep it safe from the bumps and potholes that came along with touring, even if it was over the course of two states. It was a tight fit given the sweater as it protected them from the outside world and the rough rhythm of the upstate New York roads. She had faith that they were in a good spot there underneath her seat.

“I'm not gonna drink tonight,” Charlie announced as he unbuckled his seat belt. “As much as I wanna to do that.”

“Did you remember to bring the cup holders, though?” Marla asked him.

“What, the cup holders we bought in Schenectady?” he said.

“Yeah.”

“Of course. There was no way I was gonna forget those. It was a stop over there, too, so it's not like I could forget 'em anyway.”

“Okay, okay—I was just checking, you know.”

“I'm gonna start calling you guys Mom and Dad,” Sam joked.

“Why?” Charlie laughed at that.

“Because you guys act like an old married couple.”

“Well, we've been together enough to resemble a married couple,” Marla laughed along with him. Within time, they met up with Zelda, who had driven up there with Billy and Scott, and she didn't seem to mind bunking in their car with them despite Sam's offer to join her, Marla, and Charlie.

That was the night Charlie and Marla treated the both of them to seeing Motorhead and the Plasmatics after Stormtroopers' short set. The five of them congregated off to the side yet again as they watched Lemmy with that big fat bass guitar. At one point, Sam took a glimpse down at her top: a black button up shirt that hugged her breasts, even though she wanted to keep it when she moved to New York City.

She looked back over at Lemmy and those big thick dark mutton chops on the sides of his face, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and his shirt unbuttoned all the way down his chest, down to the top of his stomach. She peered back down at her shirt yet again.

She was on tour with Stormtroopers of Death and she was about to start art school, and she fondled Cliff in a closet in the subway. She might as well let loose and go forth. She unfastened the first button, followed by the second and the third: her black bra and a sliver of her stomach were both exposed. Zelda gave her a thumbs up and then a high five. Marla turned around and she ran her fingers through Sam's dark hair to tousle it.

“Perfect and sexy little vixen!” she exclaimed over Motorhead's hard, fast, and abrasive power.

Following their set, Wendy O. Williams sauntered on with a blood spattered white camisole that looked to be falling off of her body and a mini skirt made of partially shredded, old duct tape. She had a short bob of bright platinum blonde hair with a little flip at the bottom and a tight snarl plastered across her face.

“Apparently the cops want me to cover up,” she declared into the microphone in a big upstate accent, “I wanna give it forth to all of you even if it means I gotta wear tiny clothes.”

Something about her made Sam uncomfortable, and yet it made her wonder as she knew her parents weren't around. She could be free for real there on the East Coast. She could have that devil may care attitude herself, much like Stormtroopers but taken through her own. It was like an epiphany of sorts as Wendy shrieked into the microphone and riled everyone up once more.

“Lemmy!” she shouted at one point. “Lemmy! Get yer ass up here an' sing with me!”

Sam watched her and Lemmy perform a hard and loud rendition of that song “Stand By Your Man” together, complete with Lemmy's guttural bellowing and that fuzzy bass with a neck that extended out further than that of Frank's bass. At one point, Sam glanced over at Zelda, who raised her eyebrows at her.

“Life goals right there!” she yelled over the wall of sound.

“Oh, yeah!”

“That's the real Mom and Dad, by the way,” Marla chimed in right next to them, and that in turn brought a laugh out of Charlie.

Wendy disappeared into the darkness and the four of them returned to their beds for the evening right outside of the club. Sam ducked into the front passenger seat, and she kept her purse down by her ankles. At least it was a warm summer night there in Albany; she nestled down in the seat and put her knees closer to the dashboard, but she didn't exactly press them against the hard plastic.

Charlie and Marla slipped into the back seat, but she couldn't exactly see what they were doing.

“Right there, Char,” Marla murmured. “Just—yeah. Like that. There we go!”

Sam heard something rustling back there in the back seat.

“Can I lean back now?” she called back to them.

“Oh, yeah,” Charlie replied, “there's about six inches of clearance between the back of the seat and us.”

“Oh, yeah, you could've done it anyway,” Marla added.

Sam reached down and lifted the lever, and she let the seat lean back in the darkness. Behind the alleyway and around the corner was Scott, Billy, and Zelda in the second car, and then Dan in his car by himself; she shifted herself around onto her side and pulled her kness closer up to her chest so she could feel comfortable. Lucky for her, they were in a pocket of complete darkness against the capital city lights. A sole orange glow from over the club's roof acted as a night light of sorts for her.

Even though she lay in an odd position and in the front seat, she closed her eyes and relaxed right there. She kept her shirt unbuttoned and thus she acted as though she was under a thin little blanket. Sam sighed through her nose and she brought her hands up closer to her head to give herself a touch more comfort.

Sam thought about Wendy and Lemmy, and the way in which their voices twined together with so much perfection. There was a part of her that wanted to be as brazen and expressive as her as well as Stormtroopers. She was a part of the whole shebang after all, to fully express herself come the first day of art school. Every time she closed her eyes, Lemmy's mutton chops or Wendy's bright blonde hair appeared on the backs of her eyelids, and every time, it couldn't make her go to sleep.

It felt like forever for her to fall asleep but she managed to do so despite the strange, cramped setting.

She found herself in a forest, albeit one that was filled with trees that ranged from being as tall as her to as high as the sky. The stumps were all solid black incomparison to the misty, hazy sunlight against the sky. She took a step forward and her foot sank down into the marshy ground. She moved back to her spot and she looked around the clearing.

Behind her was a line of bright green shrubs about the size of bread boxes; she peered up at the trees as they extended high into the sky.

The whole entire forest felt wet, as though it had just rained there. She tried to move about the soft wet soil but it all made her sink.

“Sam?” His voice echoed over the ground in front of her. She turned her head and she saw him walking towards her. His hair was as black as a hole but his face was shrouded in shadow. She couldn't even see his eyes or the tip of his nose, and yet the streak seemed so familiar to her. It extended back from his dark face and yet she couldn't tell if it was black or white, or of a different color. But she knew it was him.

Something hit her hand. She shook it about and brought it closer to her chest. She wanted to run, but she couldn't because the earth was too soft. The very sight of his hollow face was enough to make her shudder and shake. But he approached her in complete silence like a ghost.

His voice echoed and rang about the forest.

“Sam—” His voice was so distant and yet it crept over her like the legs of a spider. “Sam—”

“Sam!”

She opened her eyes and Zelda hung over the driver's side window. She gasped at the sight of her and then she recognized her dark hair. The sky was still dark but melded into a soft light purple with the sunrise.

Charlie and Marla were still sound asleep in the back seat together, but Sam lifted her arm out from underneath her and shook her hand about to get the blood flowing once again. She reached to the window handle: it was awkward, but she mananged to roll down the window for Zelda.

“What's up?” Sam called to her in a broken voice: even though she didn't have a drop of alcohol the night before, her parched and dry lips and mouth made her cough a little bit.

“Danny couldn't sleep,” Zelda told her in a near whisper, “so he got donuts and coffee for us all.”

“Oh, good! I'm dying of thirst right now.”

“Are they still asleep?” She leaned in closer to the window pane.

“Oh, yeah. I'll join you guys, though.”

Careful not to wake up Charlie and Marla, Sam climbed out of the front seat and stood in the warm, crisp early morning breeze for a second. She reached her arms over her head and stretched as best as she could. The buttons on her shirt hung loose over her chest and the upper part of her stomach. Zelda stood at the trunk and stretched for herself.

“You oughta just undo the rest of the buttons,” she suggested in a low voice. “Be like Wendy.”

“I'd have to take my pants off, too,” Sam added.

“And belt out an old country song with Cliff at some point!”

She brought a hand to her mouth to keep her laugh from waking up Charlie and Marla. And then she turned her head towards the sidewalk, and the street which stood empty and deserted behind them. Sam made sight of the mere edge of the fender behind the building's edge, and she ambled over there.

Indeed, Dan stood next to the door with a little white cup of coffee in hand, and a cardboard holder rested atop the roof; and he showed her a friendly little smile.

“'Mornin', Sam,” he greeted her: the early morning breeze fluttered his long dark curls.

“'Mornin', Danny,” she returned the favor.

“Would you like a donut and some coffee?”

“Pretty please.” Zelda joined the two of them, and Dan handed her a cup of coffee for herself.

“I have no idea how you girls take your coffee, so I grabbed a little bottle of cream.” Scott was still asleep in the front seat of the car next to them, whereas Billy had disappeared.

“Where'd Bill go?” Zelda asked him.

“Went lookin' for a little boys' room,” Dan said with a straight face, and that brought a big laugh out of her.

“Shhhh!” Sam hissed, given Scott, Charlie, and Marla were all still asleep. Zelda clasped a hand to her mouth and she giggled instead as a result. Sam poured some of the cream into the black coffee and she stirred it with the little wooden stick. Dan offered them a donut from the white folded box, which he had placed on the hood for a moment.

Sam took a Boston crème donut for herself while Zelda took the vanilla one with rainbow sprinkles on top.

“Thank you, Danny,” Sam told him.

“Yeah, thank you for this,” Zelda added. “I just woke up and saw you walking back here with the box of donuts and the coffee cups.”

“I wanted to get you girls some coffee,” he confessed with a shrug of his shoulders. “Something for myself and the three of you. Billy said he was gonna look for a bathroom and then something for himself, so—I didn't have to worry about him. He did want a donut, though.”

“What about Scott and Charlie?” Sam asked him as she took a small sip of coffee: she peered up at the sky as the soft violet gave way to yellow and orange. The sun was about to rise all the way up over the vast, sleepy side of upstate New York.

“Eh, we'll think of sump'n for 'em,” Dan replied as he tucked a lock of dark hair behind his ear, and that brought another chuckle out of Zelda. He turned his attention to the alleyway behind Sam. “And there's Marla!”

Sam turned to find her walking towards them with a little bit of bedhead and a shake to her step.

“What's goin' on?” Marla asked them as she rubbed her eyes.

“Breakfast,” Zelda replied with a raise of her cup. “Courtesy of Danny.”

“Oh, fantastic—” Marla fetched up a yawn, and Sam handed her the fourth cup of coffee.

“How do you like yours?”

“I can drink it black or with a bit of sugar,” she replied as she rubbed her eye again. “I just like coffee.” Marla took the lid off of the cup and took a sip of the straight up black coffee. She let out a low whistle. “Oh, that hit the spot.”

“There's Billy,” Zelda pointed out behind Sam. “If there's a boys' room, there's a girls' room nearby, too.” She darted down the sidewalk to go talk to Billy; Dan took a raspberry jelly donut out of the box, but Sam kept her attention on Marla.

“Had the weirdest dream before I woke up,” she started as she tucked a lock of violet hair behind her ear. The first rays of sunlight shone upon the crown of her head to give it a nice little sheen against that deep violet; a golden shine appeared upon the roof of Charlie's car.

“What was it about?” Sam asked her.

“I was laying on top of a target and it was spinning around in circles,” Marla explained as she brought the cup of coffee closer to her chest even though it wasn't cold. “Some guy kept throwing stuff at me. Not like knives or anything, but it was kinda nerve racking, though.”

“I've been having dreams about strange men with funny hair,” Sam said. “And then I met Cliff.”

“Oh, I've had those dreams before,” she explained. “Dreamed about a single guy in weird positions, and then I met Charlie and I had this weird like... deja vu feeling. I told someone about it after I met him, and she told me it's a sign that my life is going to take a turn for the better.” More brand new rays of the sun shone upon her hair so it looked as though it was made of a whole multitude colors besides that deep violet.

“Were they at all dreams about someone who resembled to Charlie?” Sam asked her, and Marla shook her head, but then she hesitated.

“Like—I dreamed about someone who looked like him, you mean? Actually—I have, yeah. There was a point I also thought it was Joey, too, given the curly hair. I actually dunno, though, now that I think about it. All I remember was a few times I dreamed about a boy with long pitch black curls down past his shoulders like the two of them. I dunno if it was either of those two guys, though.”

Marla took another sip of coffee and she kept her eyes fixated on the box of donuts.

“What kinda donuts we got?” she asked Dan, who lifted the lid.

“There's a couple'a chocolate ones in here if you'd like, Mar. Like there's one with nuts on top.”

“Ooh, I'll take that one!”

Within time, Billy and Zelda returned, and Charlie and Scott awoke for donuts for themselves. At that point, the sun had risen a bit over the horizon, and Charlie wasn't too pleased that Dan hadn't gotten him a cup of coffee.

“Alright, gang, this next stop is gonna be in a place called Ithaca,” Scott declared from the driver's seat of the car. “It's a three hour drive so we better prepare ourselves and give ourselves some closure before we hit the road.”

But Sam was eager to get going given the promise she made to Joey in Poughkeepsie. She had downed her cup of coffee the hour before but she awaited in the back seat of Charlie's car with her hand down between her legs once again. She touched the edge of the doves' wings once again. She thought about packing it in to a little stout box to keep them in place.

If Zelda, Charlie, and Billy all vowed to protect it, she wanted to further protect it from the harshness of the following road before them.

Three hours on that road all the way over to Ithaca. Charlie led the way and he swore he knew the way to the venue by heart.

Either side of the road was surrounded by lush forest and tiny pockets of houses nestled back away from the ribbon of highway. The whole place reminded Sam of the California coast line, especially the more forested part just prior to the ocean's edge. Granted, the California coast line had far more hills and scraggly shrubs before the ponderosa pines and vast beaches, but the whole feeling through the rolled down window reminded her of her own roots.

The minute buildings of Ithaca appeared from thick green trees while the smooth glassy dark waters of the closest of Finger Lakes emerged from right behind them. Charlie wound his way to the heart of town and the little venue that awaited them again.

“I dunno if the Plasmatics will even be there,” he confessed at one point.

“Why's that?” Marla asked him.

“No idea. But right before we left Albany, their manager told me we were gonna be going with Motorhead for the remainder of the tour. It's only for about a couple of weeks, but still.”

“So it's Ithaca now, and then after that?” Sam chimed in.

“Ithaca and then—” Charlie hesitated for a second as he peered out the windshield to check out the intersection. No stop light, but half of a sign on the corner next to them. “—then we go to Syracuse, followed by Rochester and then Buffalo, and then we double back to Pennsylvania for a bit, and then—”

“School!” Marla declared.

“School,” Charlie echoed, and they lunged forward.

The venue was nothing more than a bar about the size of a shipping container, nestled back in the trees right across the street and from the water's edge. Charlie took the first spot in the back parking lot, right in front of a cluster of tall trees, and Scott and Dan followed suit in the slots next to them.

Sam climbed out of the car and she peered up at the trees: she thought about that dream she had had the night before. Marla said something to Scott and Billy, but Sam only brought her attention to the driveway. She let her eyes wander across the pavement and then the water's edge. Charlie and Marla made their way towards the back door of the bar, while Zelda chatted with Dan about something.

That was her chance.

She never made a call to him, but she knew he was there.

Sam hoisted her purse over her shoulder and she headed down the driveway to the strip of dirt that lined the side of the pavement. The soles of her shoes crunched over the fallen pine needles and she caught a whiff of the pine itself. Pine followed by the breeze from the lake. She waited for a few seconds at the corner, and then she hurried across the dark pavement to that bare patch of dark earth. The waters glimmered under the late morning sun, but the sight she paid more attention to was the crown of curls that awaited her at the shore. She sauntered over to him and stood next to him, who had taken his seat on a smooth little piece of rock.

“Hey, Joey,” she greeted him. He lifted his head and he squinted his brown eyes against the late summer sunlight.

“Hey, li'l lady,” he returned the favor in a hoarse voice. His dark lips were smooth and silken, and his sun kissed skin had not a single blemish. His hands were empty, much to both her joy as well as disappointment.

“You're looking good this morning,” she told him.

“So are you,” he replied, “even after your first tour.” He showed her a little crooked smile. She gave her hair a toss back with a flick of her head and she gazed on at the sheet of lake waters before them.

“So this is Finger Lakes,” she remarked.

“Beautiful Finger Lakes,” he echoed with an extending of his arm out; he beheld the vast view of the glassy black waters before them. Despite it being the hottest part of summer, Sam shivered at the feeling of the gentle breeze on her head and shoulders. “Well, one of 'em, anyways. There's five of them.”

Sam tucked a lock of dark hair behind her ear: even a gentle touch on her hair was enough for her to feel the oil and the dirt. She hadn't showered since she left New York City, in almost two weeks. She turned her attention to Joey.

“I am in need of a shower,” she told him, and he lifted his head to her. “Like—this is dire. I never noticed it before because I've just been with a bunch of people who hadn't showered in that long, either.”

“You literally haven't been able to shower,” he stated, and she shook her head. He nibbled on his bottom lip and then his face lit up.

“You know, it's a little bit of a drive—not nearly as bad as it could be—but I can take you over to my parents' place and you can use their shower. They're not home right now—they're over in Rochester visiting my aunt, but I can get ya in, though, if you'd like. What's the date after here?”

“Syracuse and then Rochester, then Buffalo, and then we go down to Pennsylvania,” she recalled what Charlie had said verbatim.

Joey returned his attention to the waters before him. He was silent for a long minute before he spoke again.

“I can get you back here quick,” he told her as he stood to his feet.

“You sure?” she asked him.

“Yeah, positive. I grew up around here so I know this whole part of upstate like the back of my hand.” He brushed off the seat of his pants. “Sam, I've gone a whole week without showering and I couldn't hardly stand myself. I'm taking you there—but tell somebody over there where you're going, though.”

Joey led her away from the water's edge and towards his car posted up the street: she could see the sight of the partially collapsed curb.

“There's Marla,” Sam pointed out as they reached the street and she recognized her head of violet hair near the front door of the bar.

“Go tell 'er about it,” Joey encouraged her. Sam ducked across the pavement with her hand clutched upon the purse's strap; Marla hesitated for a moment to await her.

“What's going on?” she asked Sam once she came within earshot.

“I am in horrible need of a shower,” she stated, “so Joey's taking me over to his parents' house for one. No idea how far it is from here but I just can't take it anymore, Marla.”

She nodded her violet head and showed her a thoughtful look.

“Okay. Uh—I'll tell Charlie about it. Just so long as you guys get back here by the middle of the afternoon.”

“He's an upstate boy so he knows this way better 'round here than I do,” Sam pointed out with a shrug of her shoulders. “I can promise you he will.”

“Okay, we'll be waitin' for you.” Marla flashed her a wink and Sam doubled back to Joey and his car.

He held the door for her and she bowed into the comfy front seat, and he took to the driver's seat.

“It's only an hour drive,” he told her. “So we'll be back here in time for the whole set up session.” He shut the door and he hesitated. “Oh, yeah.”

“What?”

“I feel like such a complete and total dick sayin' this but—I've smelled locker rooms that smelled better than you, Sam,” he confessed.

“Yeah, I feel like a locker room,” she added with a shrug of her shoulders. “The floor of a locker room.”

“Alright, let's get going.” Joey almost fumbled the key but he fired up the car and they left the side of the street. They rolled down the windows so they could take in the late summer sunshine and the freshness of Finger Lakes. Even though it was an hour drive to his parents' house, a drive past the lakes and into a strange part of the wilderness, every minute felt like an hour in and of itself as the dirty feeling settled over her. She never exactly paid a lot of attention to it before given she was exposed to a few people just like her, but as she sat there in the front seat of Joey's car, it only made her realize things. The crown of her head and her skin all itched from the feeling.

Two weeks without a shower. Two weeks in only two different pairs of underwear. She wondered if Zelda was used to it all, and she wondered if the guys in Legacy had problems with it themselves.

“It's okay, we're almost there,” Joey promised her as he brought them to the middle of the road for a few seconds. “We're literally almost there.” He hung a left and they headed down the narrow little cul de sac there. He pulled up to a little one story brick house surrounded by more of those same lush trees on the right side.

“This is your parents' house?” she asked him with a smile.

“Their new one, anyways. I grew up over in Oswego, which is literally a straight shot from here. And we're actually not too far from Syracuse, either. But anyways—” He was quick to unfasten his seat belt and he led her up to the front step. He unlocked the front door with the spare on his key ring and Sam was met with a cozy front living room that smelled of soup and fresh new fabric.

“Okay, I think my mom has towels in the linen closet—I'll pick out one for ya. Just go down the hall and you'll see the bathroom right there... she has really nice soap and shampoo in there. It's a nice big bottle so you can probably take a tiny bit and it wouldn't make a difference.” Sam set down her purse on the coffee table and she jogged down the narrow hallway to the cozy bright bathroom with an olive green rug. She couldn't get those clothes off of her quicker. She couldn't switch on the water faster.

Such bliss!

The lavender in the soap nourished her while it washed away all the dirty feeling from her skin. Given he wasn't joking about the size of the shampoo bottle, she washed her hair twice with a bit the size of a dime every time. When she switched off the water, she breathed a sigh of relief. She was about to climb out of the tub when she realized something. All of her clean underwear awaited her in her suitcases in Charlie's car. This was his parents' house, but she couldn't take it anymore.

She bowed her head out from behind the curtain and she tucked the pair of underwear into the wicker basket next to her tub. She even buried it underneath a few wads of tissue and washed her hands from the tub faucet before she called Joey in for a clean towel.

She kept herself tucked behind the curtain as he stepped in there.

“Just the best feeling, isn't it?” he asked her and that crooked smile never faded for a second. She took the towel and dried off her head and shoulders before she moved onto her body. It was going to be awkward, but she had to tough it out for a little bit longer across New York and Pennsylvania before they returned home. She did have a skirt if push came to shove for the first day of school.

She slipped on her jeans over her bare legs and then she put her shirt back on. She ruffled her hair with the towel once more before she slipped it into the hamper at the end of the hall.

Joey handed her her purse once she returned to the front of the house and they headed back outside. Just in time.

“Joey?” she started as he locked the door; he peered over his shoulder at her. “Thank you.”

“Just doin' what I can,” he said, and he tucked the key into his jeans pocket. “Just doin' what I can to help. C'mon—let's get ya back there.”

#fanfic #fanfiction #anthrax fanfic #anthrax #chapter 12 #stormtroopers of death #scott ian #charlie benante #dan lilker #billy milano #joey belladonna #deadly nightshade #book two #fever in fever out #fever in fever out fanfic #also on ao3 #writing #text

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