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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years ago

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📋 Hello I am putting a formal request in for more Chris Saves Himself AU ft Mama Nakamura taking him I’m home only to realize the full situation

Continuing the Chris Saves Himself AU: One | Two |

CW: Grief, memory loss, recovering whumpee, some very brief and very vague references to noncon, minor whumpee (OC is 17), angsty fluff, reunion

It takes six days for the cops to let Akio's mom bring Tristan back to their house.

He's ready to be discharged from the hospital by day two, but there's nowhere for him to go. WRU is still saying there's no record of his existence, even with the barcode on his wrist. Tristan's only known living relative, Joanne Botham, is claiming he ran away from home and she had no idea what happened to him, that what she had told the Nakamura family was out of frustration and anger at Tristan for disappearing. The governor is out on bail facing charges for keeping Tristan in the mansion in the first place.

There are a lot of charges.

Akio feels by turns numb and enraged when he hears a news anchor read them out loud, bloodless words that don't seem to reflect at all how serious their meanings are.

The first few, he can process - false imprisonment, bodily assault - but then they keep going, and they get worse in ways Akio can barely even begin to imagine.

What Tristan has lived through... Akio's brain refuses to let it coalesce fully, but he has nightmares, dreams about Tristan screaming for him and being on the other side of a door Aki can't open.

He dreams about hands on Tristan's body and the way he might have screamed for help. Akio wakes up crying, retching, running to the bathroom to throw up whatever he's eaten that day as if he can rid himself of the poison of knowing.

His mom calls a therapist.

His father tells him to stop watching the news.

Akio just waits until they're in bed and searches for everything he can find on twitter, on reddit, on every-fucking-place anyone is talking about this. And it's everywhere.

He stops telling his parents about his nightmares after the second night.

Oliver Branch says WRU sold him a product they knew was outside the bounds of the law and lied to him about it. WRU says they don't know what he could possibly mean by that and they have no paperwork or documentation that Tris was ever in the system at all, and if he was, then there must have been a mistake about his age. They swear they'll do a total review of every single Box Boy, Babe, or Buddy to ensure absolute compliance.

The soundbites make Akio's mouth dry.

How many are there, then? If they have to keep looking to find more? How many like Tristan?

How many?

Joanne Botham, who never answers Aimi's furious calls and then changes her number after the second day, goes on TV and says she did nothing wrong and there's no proof that anything happened except maybe Tristan lying about his name and age to make WRU agree to take him in. Oliver Branch says he has the proof WRU knew, and he'll provide it in exchange for immunity.

They all point fingers at each other on national television, in press conferences and through their attorneys.

Through it all, Tristan sits in a hospital bed staring out the window at the blue sky as though it will be stolen from him all over again, waiting to be told where to go, what to do.

And it takes Aimi nearly a week to get the police to agree to allow her to take him home. She brings everything she can think of to meetings with the detectives heading up the case, shows them reams of team photos and home movies, folders and folders of everything Aimi and Mrs. Higgs had ever talked about or done together with the boys.

The hospital needs the room, needs the bed. The detectives don't want to put him into foster care when he barely seems to understand he's a person. The social services people won't take him because they're not equipped to handle a situation like this one. The adjustment houses don't want him because of something to do with what kind of Boxie he was, and Aimi doesn't elaborate and something in the set of her expression makes it clear Akio shouldn't ask.

After a week of mostly just being able to look at him through the small little square window in the hospital room's door, Aimi finally gets legal permission to take him out of there.

Akio isn't prepared for the slew of news vans that are there when he and Aimi arrive, someone having tipped off reporters that they might get a glance of the governor's secret Box Boy today. Aimi, though, simply sets her shoulders, slides a pair of dark sunglasses on, and walks through the crowd like a queen with her head held high, a small duffel bag handle in hand.

Akio hurries behind her, hands in his pockets and shoulders hunched, hood pulled over his head, trying to ignore ten thousand camera flashes. It's so much worse than the leadup to the Olympics would have been, if he were still performing at elite.

Or at all.

He has a strange, surreal hope that Tris won't be disappointed in him for quitting after Tris died.

Even though he's not dead.

They step into the hospital room around 10 in the morning to find Tristan not in the bed, but sitting on the couch built into the wall under the window, curled up on the crinkly plastic cushions to look out the window, humming low, soft and tuneless.

The hum makes Akio's heart ache with a sudden realization that this odd waking dream he's been living for a week isn't a dream at all. Tears flood his eyes and he has to blink them away as fast as he can. He's heard that hum in his ear as kids during sleepovers, he's heard it when Tris was nervous before performing a new routine, he's heard it while they waited anxiously for scores or studied for school.

"Hey, sweetheart," Aimi says, her voice low and soft, but even so Tris jumps and turns to look at them with wide, startled eyes. One hand goes up to his neck, and Akio swallows when he sees Tris has wrapped gauze around his neck to sit like the collar he was wearing when he fell from the governor's bedroom balcony.

Akio watched the cell phone video that made the rounds over and over and over again. The flash of red hair, shirtless, the bruises he was covered with, his hazy drugged eyes. Over and over and over again.

Watch him fall, watch him land, watch the people run to him and get him out of there when Akio has been sitting here crying his eyes to red half the time for a dead best friend who wasn't dead at all.

"H, Hello," Tristan says, but he doesn't know them. Akio can tell, the way his eyes move between them is uncertain, unsure. "Hello, ma'am. Can, can, can I, what..." He swallows, shivering, and Akio watches the fear move across his face. "What... what can I... do for you?"

His slowed-down voice makes Akio feel sick. He's only ever seen Tristan do that when he's with people who don't understand him or love him for who he is. Now it seems like it's the only way he remembers how to talk.

All Tristan's muscles from gymnastics are gone, leaving only faded shadows of his strength behind. He's skinny, so pale he nearly reflects the light from the ceiling. His freckles are faded, and his hair is shorter than Tris ever liked it.

Being so thin makes his eyes even bigger, they seem to overwhelm the rest of his face.

"Honey, we're going to take you to our house," Aimi says, keeping her voice the same low gentle cadence. "While we figure out what happens next. Aki and I will be taking care of you for a while. How's that sound? Would that be okay?"

Tristan looks between them again, and something shifts in his face. A kind of desperation moves there, and he turns more fully to face them, leaning over a little to look up at them. Hair falls over his forehead, and his hands move to rub over the texture of a loose pair of sweatpants someone gave him to wear under his hospital gown. "To... your house? Would I be... yours?"

He looks at Akio again, and there's something in his face that says he sees that as the best case scenario, that he was ready for far, far worse than simply changing owners. That he's... hoping he'll be Akio's property now.

Akio's stomach flips at the thought and he has to put a hand over his mouth and turn away, catching the sob before it can make its way up out of his throat.

Aimi's arm moves around his shoulders instinctively, and she leans over, pressing a kiss to her son's short black hair. "It's okay," Aimi whispers. "It'll be hard at first. But it's going to be okay, Aki. Saishūtekini wa daijōbudesu. Tristan wa mada anata no shin'yūdesu."

Tristan, sitting on the little couch, blinks a few times. "Friend," he says in English, a little haltingly. "Shin' yu. Means... best friend." He scoots closer to them along the couch, and his eyes are so big and so very, very green. Just how Akio always remembered them.

Aimi's head raises and turns to look at him, her arm tightening around Aki, breath catching in her throat. "You remember that?"

"No." Tristan shakes his head. Scoots a little closer, even. "Yes. I don't know why. Are you..." He looks at Akio. "Wa-... watashitachiha... sh-shin, um, shin-shin'yūdeshita. Yes? Did I-... did I say it right?"

Tristan's Japanese was never great, he'd just picked up some here and there from all the time he spent around the Nakamuras at home and in their car. They used to lay awake at night during sleepovers practicing over and over until Tristan had a new phrase to impress Aimi with.

But hearing his voice, his living breathing real live voice, sounding out the words...

It's too much.

It's too fucking much.

"Yeah, um, y-yeah, you-..." Akio's words are suddenly gone. He chokes on his fear that this somehow is a dream he will wake up from to find Tris still cold in some unknown open grave, and he can't keep the tears back any longer.

His knees buckle under the onslaught of grief and hope and fear and love, and he drops to the cold tile hospital floor, hands pressed over his mouth until his lips are pushed painfully into his teeth, and he wails, muffled but loud enough that there's rustling as the cops guarding the door turn to look inside through the viewing window.

Aimi drops into a crouch behind him, rubbing at his back as he curls over himself. Her voice trembles with tears she doesn't shed. Akio remembers the days after they were told Tristan was dead, how she would cry in her room at night with Aki's dad when he was home from work, but somehow when he and Emi were bawling their heads off, her voice stayed calm, she kept her composure.

Right up until she was alone.

Now, though, she's barely hanging on as her son sobs on a hospital room floor before the emptied-out shell of his best friend.

Bare feet pad along the floor until Tristan drops down in front of him, reaching slowly out. Cool fingertips touch the back of Akio's hand, and he pulls them slowly down to look and see Tristan only a foot or so away from him, kneeling, watching him.

"I know you," Tristan whispers. "It hurts, but... I know... you. Don't, um, don't I?"

Akio can barely see him through the tears that have turned the world to watercolor suggestions. Nothing's in focus. But he grabs onto Tristan's hand, those familiar always-cold fingers, and holds tight.

"You know m-me," He manages. "You do, Tris. You know me. We-... we know you. We want to t-t-take you h-home."

Tristan tilts his head to the side, and it's such a familiar gesture, one he was so sure he'd never get to see again. "My... name is Baldur," He says, softly. "My Sir named me-"

"Please don't call him that. Can you... can you answer to Tristan? Please?" Akio is the one to reach out this time, touching Tristan's shoulder, hesitant. Waiting for him to pull back and away, to flinch like he's been doing when they watch him with the nurses.

Instead, Tris takes a breath and leans into the touch.

"It hurts," He says. "But, but, but, but-... but I can try."

Akio nods, and then Tristan is moving forward, and their arms are around each other and Akio is scared of himself for a second, scared of the welling of feelings he can't control. He's afraid he'll crack Tristan's ribs with how tightly he holds on.

Tristan's face buries itself against his neck, into the crook of his shoulder.

"I missed you so much," Akio whispers against the coppery hair. He's going to start crying again. He can hear his mom sniffing behind him, digging into her purse to pull out the little pack of tissues she always has in there. "I missed you so, so much, Tris."

"I think... I think I, I, I missed you, too," Tristan whispers back, and Akio isn't sure if he can even know if he means it, but he also knows that it's so good to hear the words that he doesn't even care.

@burtlederp @finder-of-rings @endless-whump @astrobly @newandfiguringitout @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @what-a-whump @whumptywhumpdump @downriver914 @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @eatyourdamnpears

#whump #chris saves himself AU #chris the strawberry blond romantic #akio nakamura #rescued whumpee #escaped whumpee #recovering whumpee #memory loss #dehumanized whumpee #reference to collars #grief tw #referenced death #caretaker and whumpee #memory recovery #bbu #box boy universe #box boy #box boy whump #minor whumpee

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asset35-maya · 3 years ago

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RED DRESS

Part 2/2 of Nice Things

“Come on, we’re going to be late.”

“Five minutes, sweetheart. Please.”

Gavin rolled his eyes and sat down on the bed with a thump. The day had finally come when the human was more punctual than the android. He sniggered at the thought but refrained from saying it out loud. Nines looked far more serious than he ought to for a Friday night.

“Babe, it’s just the guys. And Tina.”

Nines ignored him in favor of twirling a mascara wand through his lashes.

“We’re literally going to Abick’s. That’s like the oldest, grungiest cop bar you can-”

“It’s not the place or the company, sweetheart.”

Gavin watched Nines finish off with eyeliner. Somehow even androids’ mouths hung open in concentration while doing that.

He stood up from the little pouffe and shook his long hair out with a flourish. Taking that as his cue, Gavin got up and pressed himself up against his lover’s back. He curled his arms around Nines’ trim waist and rested his chin on his shoulder.

Their eyes met in the mirror of the wooden dresser that Gavin had built for Nines.

“Whatchu so gorgeous for?”

Nines tried, but couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face.

“Shut up and zip me up.”

It wasn’t like he couldn’t reach behind himself and do it on his own. The RK900 model was supremely dexterous, flexible to the point of double-jointedness.

It was more of an implicit request for the human’s approval of the outfit. Nines didn’t need it, but he asked anyway… just like later that night, Gavin would ask him if it was okay to splurge on a bacon cheeseburger or order an extra shot in his whiskey coke…

They were codependent like that.

Gavin left one hand on the android’s stomach and placed the other on the small of his back, just at the opening of the dress. His thumb grazed the zipper, but he didn’t demonstrate any further intent to pull it up.

“You said we were going to be late.”

Gavin swept the dark curtain of hair aside and pressed his lips to the exposed skin at the nape of Nines’ neck. When he spoke it was a whisper.

“Why’s my babydoll looking like something out of a movie for my dumb little promotion party?”

His hand slipped into the open flap of the dress. It was a simple knee-length a-line. Fairly modest, but something about it set Gavin’s heart racing. Perhaps the colour. A vibrant, lusty, sexy, show-stopping red in sharp contrast to the milky white synthskin.

Nines couldn’t help the gasp that escaped him at the touch. Sighing, he tipped his head back and let Gavin nuzzle his neck.

“Hmm?”

“Now we’re really going to be late, sweetheart. Zip… hhhhh… zip… me up…”

“Come on, doll. I don’t want someone accidentally spilling beer or mustard on this pretty little thing you got on. It’s just gonna be a chill night out with our friends. They demanded a treat for my promotion, and Hank said he’d come too, so I picked a place he’d be more comfortable at, and I realise that’s not exactly your scene, but I’m glad you’re coming with me, but I really gotta say this dress-”

Nines turned around in Gavin’s grasp and silenced him with a kiss.

“It’s not the place or the company,” he repeated, putting his arms around the human’s neck.

“It’s your promotion party. It’s about your achievements, your hard work, YOU. And in case you haven’t noticed, you’re the most important person in my life. My partner in more ways than one. My everything.

Your rise in stature means as much if not more to me than my own accomplishments. I’m not the RK900 with the impeccable solve rate. I’m Sergeant Reed’s better half.

If I had it my way we’d be doing something much grander, but this is how you want to celebrate and that’s fine, but please don’t stop me from dressing for the occasion.”

They looked at each other for a long moment. Steel blue and storm green locked in stalemate.

Then Gavin pulled Nines into a tight embrace. He released him abruptly and spun him around, zipping up the dress in a flash. Avoiding eye contact lest the tears pricking his eyes betray him, Gavin caught the android’s hand in his and marched out of the apartment.

Connor greeted them at the entrance of the bar and waved them over to where the motley crew sat, already well into their first round of drinks.

Hank raised his beer glass in greeting, wearing an orange striped shirt he apparently deemed worthy of festivities. Tina enveloped Gavin in a giant hug. For a good thirty seconds he could see nothing but flannel. Then Miller, Person and countless other officers took turns congratulating him and bringing up past cases or incidents they couldn’t believe hadn’t held Gavin’s career back.

Nines extricated himself with an artful wave of long fingers and settled onto a bar stool beside his older brother Sixty and his husband Allen. Serious, snarky and clad in their usual black leather, these two were more Nines’ speed.

Ignoring Sixty’s irritated grumble, Nines took a sip of his thirium drink to see if he liked the taste and ordered one for himself. He was prepared to spend the rest of the night sitting still and not touching the many sticky, greasy surfaces in the bar. It wasn’t his idea of fun, but he was happy to let Gavin and his friends do their thing.

Gavin, however, didn’t seem to be in the mood. He humoured his friends (many of whom were now his direct reports) and played along with whatever they insisted on doing, but Nines felt his partner’s eyes on him the entire evening.

“You punishing him?”

“Hmm?”

Sixty was squinting at him shrewdly.

“For coming to this shithole to celebrate. That’s why you wore this? Poor bastard can’t keep his eyes off you.”

Nines swatted his brother on the chest.

“I don’t play games like you.”

“Who says I play games?”

Allen shook his head but didn’t look up from his phone.

“I have a fashion sense, Six, not an agenda. I’m not punishing him for anything.”

“Well, you’re certainly distracting him. Reminds me of the time Allen said something stupid while we were getting ready for a shift so I put on lingerie underneath my gear. He nearly fell off a roof that day.”

Allen buried his face in his hands while Nines laughed out loud.

“Shiiit. Your guy looks fucking lovesick. In front of all his staff too. They’re gonna think he’s a total sap. A new authority figure like him has got to show some grit.”

“Six, your husband follows you around like a lost puppy but that hasn’t interfered with his ability to lead your unit. Gavin will be fine.”

Allen didn’t know whether to consider that an insult or a compliment and settled for sipping his drink in silence.

“So what are you gonna do?”

“To?”

“Make the torture worth his while.”

At that exact moment, Gavin gave Nines a look from across the bar that could have only one interpretation. Sixty noticed and barked a laugh.

Nines self-consciously tucked his hair behind his ear and smoothed down his dress. If he were human he’d have blushed bright red.

Back to idly scrolling through his phone, Allen spoke without looking up.

“Let him do whatever he wants.”

Nines’ eyes widened. Sixty nodded wisely.

“His imagination is probably running all over the place right now. All you have to do is let him act on it and you’ll make him the happiest man on earth. It’s his promotion. You should be the prize.”

Allen put down his phone and scooted closer to Sixty, wrapping his arms around the android. They both looked at Nines with identical expressions that were anything but innocent.

“Yeah, Nines. Dress like a present, expect to be unwrapped.”

Raucous cheers erupted as Gavin lost yet another game of beer pong. The new sergeant barely noticed and took the shot glass thrust into hand by a very jubilant Connor. Nines raised his glass in a silent toast and the two downed their drinks together.

The rest of the evening was an exercise in painful self-restraint. Gavin entertained various playful requests and posed for photos and thanked each and every one of his colleagues for their strong support. Hank clapped him on the shoulder proudly, and Tina even teared up at one point, emotionally overcome with happiness for her oldest and closest friend. Nines watched it all quietly from his perch beside Sixty and Allen.

As soon as they slid into an autonomous taxi, Gavin’s lips were on his, smothering him in heated, demanding kisses. Intoxicated and utterly uninhibited, the human put his hands in Nines’ hair… all over his body… and up the pretty red dress. No words were exchanged the entire ride home.

The fact that android skin could not be marked or bruised was the only thing that let them walk through their busy lobby and ride the elevator up with dignity intact.

As soon as the front door slammed shut, Gavin was all over Nines. He touched and groped and claimed and conquered.

The dress zipper was pulled down as quickly as it had been pulled up before they left for the bar. Nines stepped out of the puddle of red fabric as delicately as he could and pulled Gavin’s shirt off too. It was only the high quality gyroscope of the RK900 model that kept them from crashing to the floor before making it to the bed.

Nines allowed himself to be pushed onto the bed and parted his legs for Gavin to easily settle between them. From there, he expected things to go at lightning speed… for Gavin to plough into him and come with a loud roar after a couple minutes, finally sated after a night of frustration.

The exact opposite occurred.

Even after all the tequila shots Connor and Tina made him do, Gavin was somehow still lucid enough to put his lover’s feelings over immediate physical needs.

“Babe, I… am soooo… sorry…”

One hand wound up in his hair and the other gripped his hip.

“Like.. you dressed the phck up… like you looked soooooo damn beautiful, baby… I’m gonna cry.”

For a moment, it honestly looked like that was a possibility until Nines reached up and stroked the human’s stubbled cheek.

“I know Abick’s is kinda crusty but you came anyway… looking like a million bucks but I didn’t spend a second with you… T and Con and the crew… they kinda took over…”

“It’s fine, sweetheart. It was our whole team’s night as much as yours. I’m glad they all had their fun.”

“I didn't. Have any fun.”

“Really? Not even when Chris did that Fowler impersonation?”

“Couldn’t stop… thinking of you… you’re so damn good to me… and I…”

“I was fine. You invited Six and Allen to keep me company and it was fiiiineee.”

“You sure?”

“Positive. Now come on, sarge. Show me who’s boss.”

Nines rolled his hips against Gavin’s and that was all the conversation there was to be had for the night. They were both still getting used to having nice things… but they were doing well.

Inspired by @marndraws

#reed900 #rk900 #dbh rk900 #dbh nines #dbh gavin #gavin reed #gavin900 #gavin x rk900 #gavin x nines #background allen60 #long haired nines #red dress #tooth rotting fluff

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afoldintime · 3 years ago

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So a couple of days ago I was tag surfing on AO3 and I came across a Buck/Eddie fic from the show 9-1-1 written by @dancer-me. It was such a ridiculously well-written fic that I had to watch the show to get some context and, well, here's my live-blogging reactions to 1x01 "Pilot" that no one asked for (also, I'd love to make friends in the 911 fandom on Tumblr so just give me a shout!):

Alzheimer's sucks. that is all.

what is this "CPR"?? I don't know if the actor just doesn't know how to do compressions properly or if they're afraid they'll hurt the victim actor, which, fair, but I cannot take this seriously

I bet real firefighters and paramedics really have trouble suspending their disbelief when watching this show

oh. so not all the calls are going to end happy. okay that's fine i just gotta prepare myself

the priest's phone going off during confession? fantastic Catholic representation, 10/10

... I feel like taking the fire truck to have sex is a firable offense

sir you just had sex do not put your hands into the food that is gross

how did they arrive on this "someone flushed a baby down the toilet" idea?? literally nothing suggests that besides the caller presenting it

the police are also buying this baby toilet theory?? and now it has somehow evolved into "teenage mom flushes premature baby down the toilet to hide the evidence"??? these are prettty big reaches with absolutely no proof to show for it

um. i'm fairly certain the police need a warrant to enter and search your house if you say no, even if they're not making arrests. know your rights people

ughh i knew there was going to be some playing loose with the rules because it's a copaganda tv show but it still puts a bad taste in my mouth

did they just use the pickax to knock down part of the wall? the very same pickax they yelled at Buck not to use??

the caller snacking in the background as all this is happening is such a mood

okay the chances of no one having flushed their toilets this entire time is very slim

Buck with this baby is just absolutely precious

the way he's acting towards the mom... he's a very emotional person isn't he

Buck talking to the baby is just so so cute i cannot

Okay wow i was expecting a divorce, i was completely not expecting Michael to be gay, that came totally out of left field

very interested to see how they handle this storyline, I need to keep my hopes down because it is still a copaganda show

May no one said anything about telling other people, where is this coming from?

oh wow this is a very emotionally charged scene and a tricky situation overall, I feel so much for everyone involved

how does Hen know that snake fact? very impressive

Hen why are you so against killing the snake?? it's choking the woman what else are you supposed to do

andddd of course Buck just chops its head off

andddd of course he flirts with her

yeahh I'm not surprised Buck was fired, I'm surprised he wasn't the first time around

Girl there are intruders in your house just stay in one place and whisper to the 911 lady why are you moving around

they're sure wasting a lot of time chatting while a break-in is in progress

don't cops report to scenes in partners? to avoid this situation? why does Athena not have a partner?

ma'am i understand you're happy to see your daughter but the suspect is still on the loose why are you just standing in the street

Buck backing the truck into the station alone as everyone else waits for him, we love a cinematic parallel

#911 fox #911 1x01 #evan buckley #bobby nash #athena grant #henrietta wilson #chimney han #tram rambles #911 live reaction

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sickofthistoxicshit · 4 years ago

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Buddie 4x14 review - if you haven’t watched it yet don’t read.

The episode starts where we left it, once Buck was on the ground, it seems like he was thrust back into reality. I noticed two things here (connected with 4x13) Eddie didn’t close his eyes until Buck was safe behind the truck on the ground. And the second thing is that Buck was spurred into action the moment Eddie’s eyes closed.

And I mean this was some BAMF Buckley right there, that was SEALS trained Evan Buckley! 😱🤩 It’s like training and instinct kicked in and all that mattered was to get to Eddie and get him help as soon as possible, sniper’s bullets be damned. I gotta say it was executed to perfection❣

Big kudos to both Oliver and Ryan for delivering this whole sequence in a heart-wrenching, beautiful manner.

The shooting doesn’t stop and they get Eddie out of there under fire, I really like the 133 captain and crew, they worked so well with the members of the 118, it seemed effortless. (I’m not touching that subject, but let’s picture Buck lifting Eddie bodily up into his arms and in to the truck for just a second here. - I mean we wanted it but not under these circumstances)

Buck taking the role of medic when finally getting Eddie into the truck, is so amazing, he’s usually the one either in need for treatment or the one who stands back and let’s Hen, Chim and Eddie do the medic stuff, it is their jobs after all, but he doesn’t sit back and let the medics of the 133 to take over, he does it himself.

He tore Eddie’s uniform’s buttons open (again, that’s not how any of us wished for this to happen), tore the pressure bandage wrap open and pressed it down on the wound, he did not step back from Eddie, until he absolutely has to, at the hospital. 😭

Eddie, my poor baby, was lying on the ground of the truck, bleeding and half conscious and the one thing he focused on was the blood on Buck’s shirt and he asked him if he’s hurt. I mean I could totally cry, because that’s Eddie. Best friend, combat medic, protective and caring, that never goes away even as he’s lying there bleeding. 🥺🥺

Eddie was legit ready to forget his injuries and try to get up and take care of Buck if he was hurt too. He loses consciousness only when Buck assures him that he’s not hurt.

Buck’s frantic litany of “Just hang on, we’re almost there.” and “I need you to hang on” (“I need you”, not we, not Christopher, “I need you”) was really hard to watch, because even though we all read and wrote it in fanfics thousands of times, watching it actually play out was heartbreaking, I totally teared up with Buck there.🥺🥺

For firefighters the job ends at the hospital doors, so Buck naturally, out of instinct stops from following. But that’s Eddie taken away from him and he looks frozen, at that moment he must have thousands of thoughts running around his head.

“You ok Buckley?”

Buck’s broken “No.” was maybe expected, but it was also earth shattering of sorts. This is Buck standing there, knowing (especially after the well incident) that when Eddie is not okay, he’s not either. 😭❤

I want to point out that I loved the fact that the 133 didn’t just drive away or waited outside for the cops, they went in after Eddie. And after trying to check in on Buck, the Captain of the 133 went in too.

I’m going to point out a parallel here between S3 Finale and S4 finale, in 3x18 Eddie asks Buck if he’s ok as his ex-girlfriend was taken in the ambulance with her new fiancé, Buck’s response was “What’s next?” and going back to work. He was okay, because Eddie was with him, and there was still work to be done.

Here in 4x14, Eddie is taken from him to the hospital, and Buck doesn’t know if he’ll live, so Buck’s obvious answer here is ‘No’.

Later we see Buck exiting the hospital, in his firefighter uniform. I’m a little disappointed we don’t see him cleaning up, I know that could have made for a hell of a scene, Oliver would have killed it, and us in my opinion.

Taylor is coming to the hospital, not as a reporter but as a friend. She was worried. I like that side of her, when she knows to put away the reporter and to make sure her friend is in one piece. Her character development is shown beautifully in this scene.

Buck, in no condition to pretend and speak to the press, turns away from her, he doesn’t trust her at that moment and he doesn’t trust himself not to break down there. He’s teary, still in shock and his hands are shaking like crazy. (in complete contrast to the usual Buck, where he can be in danger or wrap up a crazy rescue and he is normally completely steady.)

Taylor, offered to take Buck to Eddie’s house to see Christopher, telling him he can’t go see Chris looking like he does now. “You can’t got see his son like that.” - At first hear and several others it sounded like “Your son.” - of course it’s not but either way it would have been true too, because in a way Buck has been co-parenting Christopher for a very long time now. And indeed later when Buck gets to Eddie’s house he is washed and dressed in civilian clothes.

The scene with Oli and Gavin killed me! I thought for sure the breaking down will be done in private, but Buck couldn’t hold it together in front of Christopher once he found out Eddie is going to be ok, and Christopher comforting Buck was so so sweet.

Christopher’s “like the ones who fixed you?” Kind of gives us a certain idea as to the conversation Eddie had to have with Christopher when Buck was hurt. His sweet “Then he’s going to be ok,” he says it with such conviction, only adding “right?” only as an afterthought.

And as if he manifested it himself Buck then gets a text from Bobby that tells him that Eddie pulled through surgery and it looks good.

Buck actually dropped the phone from the relief and he started to cry, and sweet, adorable, national treasure Christopher puts an arm around him and tells him that Eddie is going to be okay. I definitely cried with Buck here. It was such a powerful scene and it was portrayed so well by Oliver and Gavin.

The “it’s going to be okay Buck” was kind of a call back to 3x01 - when Christopher reassures Buck and tells him “You’re going to be okay kid.” - I love these two together so much! ❤❤

When Bobby gives them the talk in the firehouse about how they proceed from there, Buck is standing with his arms crossed, looking completely dejected. And when Hen asks about the safety of their families, Bobby says there's no reason to believe they are in danger, Buck pipes in with “We didn’t have a reason to believe Eddie will get shot helping a kid either.” Buck is traumatized, and worried, he sleeps at Eddie’s house looking after Christopher.

I loved Christopher waking Buck up, and them having cereal breakfast together, a call back to Eddie and Christopher having breakfast together in 2x04. Buck doesn’t sit next to Chris, but across from him - to me it says that the seat between them is usually reserved to Eddie when they’re together at the house.

I love how Christopher’s teasing Buck about him snoring. And Buck is later confused because he’s unsure of whether or not Chris really understands what’s happening, but Carla assures him that he already lost his mother, unfortunately he understands better than he or she thinks. Which again should give people a new appreciation for Christopher’s sunshine child attitude.🥺❤

Carla showing up to take Christopher to school, is showing relief that Buck could finally sleep, which means that he didn’t for at least a couple of nights. She’s also asking him how it feels to go to work, Buck doesn’t even think about the sniper, for him all that matters is that Eddie is not out there with him and it feels off. (call back to 2x18 when Eddie seemed pensive about being back at work but Buck was not with them.)

Carla, bless her, retorts that that is not what she was asking - obviously she meant, she was worried about the sniper, but that is not Buck’s main worry, his head and his heart are somewhere else.

The crane scene was insane! I laughed when Chimney looked to Bobby and asked him “Can you blame him cap?” and Bobby flat out responded “Yeah!” 😂

The rescue was really impressive. However if Eddie ever found out about this he would probably hit Buck over the head with something heavy. It just goes to show that Eddie is Buck’s impulse control and vice-versa.

Bobby and Buck’s interaction wasn’t one of anger, Bobby was terrified and Buck was guilty but unapologetic, because he couldn’t protect Eddie but he could protect the rest of his family, so he did just that. Bobby didn’t have anything to say other than give him the same response Eddie did in Monsters - “Don’t do it again.” - Because for one, in my opinion, Bobby knows where Buck is coming from and also Bobby knows, he knows Eddie is Buck’s impulse control, knows he’s his anchor, he knows that Buck will only be his relatively normal self when Eddie comes back.

I’m not even going to touch the Taylor scene, yes she was worried, and yes she scolded him in a friendly way, but that kiss felt so out of left field for me, especially since Buck was just packing a bag to go stay with Christopher and Eddie was still unconscious at the hospital.

Also she freaking friendzoned him last episode, how fickle do male writers think women are? She gets a little scared and kisses the guy? Lucky they didn’t write in a sex scene! That was an insult to women everywhere in my opinion. It could have been set in so many better opportunities, why now? And if she’s scared now what’s to say that won’t make her leave like Ali did? I have a whole tirade about it but I will let it go for now.

Now I know ya’ll are like - Eddie woke up because his spidey senses told him someone was kissing his Buck (and I do not negate that point lol), but he just woke up and he asked for Buck. I find it so deliriously endearing that I need a moment even as I’m writing this.🤗🤗

I have to point out that there is no scene of Buck, Eddie and she who will not be name together other than the second when Buck walks in (read ran through the hospital corridors) and Eddie has only eyes for his partner. 👀❤

Afterwards it just the two of them, with a brief facetime to Christopher. I love that Eddie thanks Buck for staying with Chris, and Buck pretty much breaks down the logic behind the decision, like a true parent. - Christopher’s comfort came first in Buck’s eyes, and really that just demanded a hug right there.

“Is he doing ok?”

Buck’s response here, was very honest, a lot more honest than I expected, “better than me.” He said. Buck openly admits to Eddie, “I kinda lost it when I told him you got shot. I’m sorry I should have held it together.” To be honest, I’m very curious as to the ins and outs of Buck and Eddie’s friendship, especially during quarantine, they seem so much closer, a lot more open. More honest than you'd expect two male, straight, lead characters to be with their friends.

Buck would have played it down and shared only the essentials when it’s anybody else. With Eddie he openly saying here, in his own way, ‘I was terrified, and heartbroken, and ‘couldn’t imagine my world without you.’ - ‘I couldn’t function with a clear head.’ - ‘all my masks were shattered.’

“You were there for him when I couldn’t be, that’s what matters.” Eddie knows, buck, he understands him better than anyone, he’s telling him here in his own way that it’s okay, and he loves him just the way he is - it was his way to reassure Buck that he was doing just fine.

But Buck’s “Still I think it might have been better for him if I was the one who got shot.” - Eddie looked like he was ready to get up and smack some sense into Buck.

I want to point out that Buck’s response to Eddie being hurt or in danger is nowhere near the same as his response to anyone else in danger. Case in point in 4x14 is Bobby, he is inside, probably injured, in a fire with a gunman - if it was Eddie, Buck would have waited 0.1 seconds before he disappeared back into the flames to help Eddie.

With Bobby, he was calm, cool, calculated, he knew what Athena would do because that’s exactly what he would have done if it had been Eddie and he is ready with helpful details and a plan. He wants to go with her, but doesn’t argue when she says no.

Eddie is Buck’s Bobby, and it reflects all throughout this episode, and I think I had some parallels pointed out in 4x13 too. So I don’t know what scripts Tim reads or if we’re all watching the same show but buddie exists and thriving as far as I’m concerned.

Buck is also the one to pick Eddie up at the hospital - he tells him that the nurse is getting his meds and discharge papers ready, which means that Buck did all that process, he was busy getting Eddie discharged. (Take a moment to soak it in.)😌

Eddie sits Buck down to talk, to be honest this talk went pretty much the way I expected it.

Eddie explains why he had his will updated, and that Buck is Christopher’s legal guardian if anything happens to Eddie. - I love that after all this time, sweet Buck is still surprised.

He asks if Eddie didn’t need his consent for this and Eddie’s reply is: “My attorney said you could refuse.”

I also love, that even shell-shocked, Buck knows that Eddie knows him “You know I wouldn’t.”

And Eddie assures him that he does in fact know Buck, and he knows that Buck loves Christopher as much as Eddie does “I know you wouldn’t.”

(”I had to do it.” - “Yeah, I know you did.” this was a call back to 4x05 where Eddie understood why Buck did what he did. And knowing what we know now, I can assume that even though Eddie understood and forgave Buck, he didn’t have to like it.)

“No one will ever fight for my son as hard as you.” - call back to 3x03 anyone?

“There’s no one I trust with my son more than you.” - and Eddie proves it time and again.

And here he is basically giving Buck permission to give hell to his parents or anyone who tries to take Christopher away from His Buck. - And I love it!! 🤗❤

Buck, smart, handsome guy that he is, asks the right question again - “Why are you just telling me now?”

“Because Evan.” That first name that even took Buck by surprise, because Eddie only ever called him Buck, to our knowledge anyway. - Eddie was talking to Evan Buckley, not Buck, and yes they are two separate entities living inside one hunky firefighter. - This is Eddie saying, I know you’re frayed around the edges, I know I’m asking for a lot right now but I need you to hear me.

“You came in here the other day and you said it would have been better if you who were the one who was shot,” and I think for Eddie, who was lying on that firetruck floor bleeding out, and his only concern was that Buck may have been hurt, that was the worst thing Buck could have said.

“you act like you’re expandable but you’re wrong.”

Eddie has been where Buck is at that moment, losing his wife, watching his best friend nearly die time and again. - Really at this point Eddie just wants him safe, and if telling him about Christopher is what will do the trick, then he is not above playing dirty.

Eddie is telling Buck, you are my partner, you are Christopher's second parent, I love you, Christopher loves you, I don’t know what I’d do without you. - Because Eddie has been without Buck before and he was completely lost. - And that’s before they became even more intertwined as they are now.

I love the second before Buck and Eddie enter, Eddie��s house, before Buck opens the door, Eddie looks like he’s steeling himself to get in and Buck has a knowing grin on his face, somewhere between ‘ready?’ and ‘they’re happy you’re back be nice.’ 👀😂

I hated the jump forward, but everyone standing on the roof looking good and Eddie with those sunglasses? wow!! 🥵🤩

This was an all out buddie episode, and I was totally there for it!! I really hope for many more, because these two give me life!!

#evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #LIs who?#christopher diaz #buck is christopher’s second dad #it's pretty much canon now #buddie and bathena parallels #call back #9-1-1 4x14 #9 1 1 on fox #9-1-1 on fox #9 1 1 spoilers #❤❤❤

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one-boring-person · 3 years ago

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H'okay I gotta bite. From the friends-to-enemies-to-lovers prompt, would you please do #5 with one of our favorite smart asses: Gabriel Cash? I was going to ask for Snake but after seeing 'Guilty as Charged' I *LOVE* how you write him!

Thank you so much! I'm really glad you liked it! And thanks for the request, I enjoyed writing it, though I'm really sorry that it took so long :/

We Make A Good Team.

Gabe Cash (Tango and Cash) x reader

Warnings: swearing, mention of gun violence

Masterlist

"Sorry, can I just…" A pair of hands suddenly grip my waist and pull me to the side, away from my position by the corner, the familiar voice sending a wave of irritation through me as I hear it.

Stumbling to stand beside the newcomer, I glare at him as he takes my place, drawing a gun from his belt as he presses himself back against the grimy bricks, peeking round the corner.

"Cash, get the hell out of my way!" I hiss at him, grabbing his arm to pull him back.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did you say something?" Gabe turns briefly to look at me, his hair whipping into my face from our accidental proximity.

"Come on, Cash. You know playing deaf doesn't suit you." I retort, still pulling at his arm.

"Really? Because it sure as hell looks like you're enjoying it." He sends a pointed glance at my hand on his sleeve, "See, you're already trying to take my clothes off."

Snapping my hand back to my body, I make a sound of disgust, blushing angrily as he smirks at me and turns back around, peering round into the darkened street.

With an angry scowl, I turn back to face the rest of the team of armed police behind us, locating my captain quickly.

"Why the hell is he on my case, sir?!" I growl, gesturing back to the blonde beside me.

"Hey, hey! "He" has a name, you know." Gabe interrupts, "And who said it's your case? Last I checked, there's a whole crowd here."

"What, you think you should go in solo?" I scoff, barely looking at him, "I've been on this case for a week now, so it's mine. I call the shots, so fuck off!"

"Actually, (Y/n), I called him in." My captain says from the back of the group, sending me a stern look as I set my jaw.

"But why?"

"Because, babe, there's no way you're gonna pull this off without me." Gabe smirks, before he suddenly steps out from behind the corner, yelling out to the criminals I'm trying to convict.

"Cash! You fucker!" I bite out after him, following swiftly with my gun raised, knowing I'll probably need it now.

Falling in beside him, I take up a position to his right, inadvertently reverting back to old habits I built up years before, weapon aimed slightly to the side as I keep half an eye on the surroundings as well as the scene before us. Noticing me there, Gabe shoots me a quick grin, winking as he sees me realise what I've done, looking back as I make a face of disgust and move into a different place, scowling to myself. Observing the scene before me, I change my aim as I figure out that there's no way we'll be snuck up on - the gangs (all three) are there in their entirety. Swallowing, I signal to the squad behind us to move in, thankful for the forethought of bringing in more help from the armed cops. It's not long before they're all in position, both the ones behind us and on the roofs around, as well as those at the other end of the alley.

"Put your weapons down, you're surrounded! Nobody needs to get hurt, but if you don't do what I say, someone will!" I call out to the gathered gang members before Cash can get a word in, eyeing them all warily.

Nothing happens, the whole alley remaining still and silent, almost eerie as we stare at each other, guns aimed at one another. It takes a full minute for the tension to be broken.

"You think she's joking? Listen, guys, I've seen her angry and trust me, it's not pretty. Just drop the weapons, and none of us have to see her go batshit! Everyone wins!" Gabe finally shouts to the gangs, nodding towards me with a knowing look.

Annoyed, I glance at him, glaring as he winks at me again, finding his relaxed approach infuriating. Across from us, the gang members look at each other in confusion, as if debating whether or not to follow our instruction

"Look, guys, it's really not that hard. Just do what she says!" Cash tries again, cocking his gun ominously.

"Drop your weapons!" I follow up, adjusting my grip on my gun, "Drop them and step back, hands in the air!"

As the threat of the situation finally sinks in for them all, many of the gangsters gradually place their weapons down, surrendering themselves even as their compatriots curse them out, pointing their guns at them. It doesn't take long, however, for them all to see sense, especially as the armed police move forwards to start making the arrests.

With a triumphant grin, Gabe turns to me and holsters his gun, lifting an eyebrow at my vexed expression as he goes to move past.

"Way to go, team!" He comments as he steps past me, bumping my shoulder with his.

Flipping him off, I go to help the others, ignoring him.

It's already half ten by the time I finish writing the report, my hand aching from the continuous movement - my captain has always preferred handwritten files for some reason, so I often spend hours writing up days and days worth of case notes. Even so, as I walk over to the door to the captain's office, I can't help but feel a little satisfied by the completed wad of paper, holding it carefully so that it doesn't get damaged at all.

Naturally, the captain isn't in at this time of night, so I push open his door and go to the desk, dropping the file by his keyboard with a final thunk, glad to be rid of the burden. Without further ado, I leave the room, heading to my office again to grab my things, only to realise I have yet to sort out the conviction forms for the gangsters we picked up earlier, a job that will take me a good hour or so alone. Sighing, I take up the pile of papers, shuffling through them with a tired carelessness, moving back out into the corridor with them.

This time, I make my way over to the communal area, intending to make myself a cup of coffee so that I'll at least be able to stay awake whilst I fill these in. As I enter though, I fail to notice the figure sat in the corner.

"Babe, it is way too late to be drinking coffee. You should try a beer." Gabe's voice sounds almost as tired as I feel, though I can't quite see why, as it's highly unlikely that he's done any paperwork in the last four hours.

His words startle me, making me jump and drop my cup to the counter top with a loud clatter.

"Fuck, Cash! You scared the shit outta me!" I curse, pressing a hand to my chest as I catch my breath.

"Sorry, sweetheart. Thought you'd seen me." The detective apologises, lifting his beer up to his lips.

"S'fine." I mumble, turning to the fridge in search of a drink, "I need something stronger than a beer."

"Stronger?" Gabe lifts an eyebrow.

"Yeah. But I'll take a beer...I ran out of scotch a few days ago."

"Scotch? You take that shit to work?" His other eyebrow joins the first.

Shooting him a tired smirk, I grab a beer and join him at the table, dropping the papers down in a messy heap.

"I usually do." I reply, cracking the beer open on the edge of the table, "As I said, I drank it all."

"Damn, girl, didn't realise work got you so stressed." He remarks, toasting me as I lift my drink to my lips.

I shrug, taking out my pen to fill some of the forms in, writing in the date, charges and signing the bottom.

"Why don't you just leave that for someone else to do? Or wait until tomorrow? They're not going anywhere." Gabe asks after a while, having watched me in silence, the longest we've gone without arguing in a long time.

"Because," I sigh, glancing up at him, "I actually stick to my deadlines. This needs to be done by tomorrow."

He clicks his tongue, rolling his eyes as he reaches across, pinching the end of my pen.

"The captain isn't going to expect you to have written a whole report, plus thirty of those fuckers. You're not a machine, you need a rest." The blonde says to me, clear blue eyes fixed on mine, genuine care written into his expression.

"No, Cash-" I try to argue, only to be cut off as he takes my pen from me and stands from the table, coming round to my side.

"Yes, you're going to listen to me for once." He orders, almost sternly, helping me from my chair as I protest a little, unused to the friendly way he's behaving around me.

Shushing me, Gabe leads me over to the sofa at the far end of the break room, sitting me down before taking his place at the other side, which isn't so far given the small stature of the piece of furniture. Our legs are touching from our close proximity, but I'm too tired to do anything about it, simply enjoying his company instead, something I never thought would happen again.

"You know, (Y/n), we still make a good team." He murmurs after a minute or so, drinking from his beer as I turn my head to look at him.

"I guess so." I agree, thinking back to the arrest earlier today, as well as a few earlier on in our careers. Back when things were easier.

Gabe is clearly thinking the same as he sighs and turns to look at me, the two of us making eye contact properly for the first time in years, unspoken words passing between us as we gaze at each other.

"I still wish things hadn't changed." He sighs wistfully, glancing away again, hand clenching the bottle.

"Me too, honestly." I reply quietly, finishing my beer quickly as I settle back into the sofa, feeling sleep tugging at my mind, "It was nice having a partner."

"Yeah it was. Work gets lonely now."

"Tell me about it."

All is silent between us for a few more minutes, during which time I start to feel my eyelids drooping closed, my body relaxing comfortably into the soft cushions.

"Maybe one day we could work together again." He proposes, placing our bottles on the floor by our feet.

"Yeah, that would be nice." I agree, being totally genuine as I try my hardest not to drift off, "I miss you, Ca- Gabe."

At the sound of his name, Gabe looks over at me again, evidently noticing me half-asleep on the couch beside him. It takes him a moment, but it's not too long before I feel a lair of arms wrap around me. Eyes opening, I give him a questioning look as he pulls me closer to him, maneuvering us so he's got me cradled against his chest, leaning back against the arm of the sofa. If I wasn't so tired, I would've pushed him away, but as it is, it feels nice being held in his strong grip, his chest firm under my cheek and palms as I give in and nuzzle closer to him. His scent floods my nostrils, something in the mixture of old fast-food and hastily-used cologne comforting me as I feel a soft warmth spread through me.

Too tired to argue, I relax into him, allowing him to lull me to sleep with gentle patterns on my back, his hair falling into my face as he leans forwards over me. Just before I drop off entirely, I feel him press a soft kiss to my forehead, his arms tightening around me as he hugs me to his body, muscles loosening underneath me.

I really have missed him.

#tango and Cash #Gabe Cash #Gabe Cash x reader #Gabe Cash imagine #tango and Cash imagine #Kurt Russell #break writes

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vagrantblvrd · 3 years ago

Text

That one AU where Ryan’s undercover, right?

Still with Narco or maybe he’s been shuffled around a bit, moved over to Robbery right around the time Homicide and Beckett get the case with Finch and Esposito’s old partner. (Or maybe a case crossed over and he’s being loaned out, idk, details and so on???)

And at the beginning of the case in comes Detective Demming in Robbery, formerly out of the 54th.

Castle is like >:(((((( because the man is just too pretty, and also probably rescues cats out of trees on his days off, and honestly, is he the only one to see this Detective Tom Demming as what he truly is?

(In his experience, someone who seems too good to be true isn’t, but clearly this Demming has bamboozled not only Beckett but Esposito and Captain Montgomery as well and it is up to the intrepid author of the group to prove it! ...as soon as he finds evidence.)

Meanwhile.

The case proceeds as usual and Lanie finds Ike’s prints on Finch’s body, which, you know Drama.

In comes Holliwell and the accusations and whatnot.

Esposito going to see Carol and Tim and asking if she knew and all that fun stuff?

But then!

Someone finds out that Finch was in contact with this guy, someone who could help them with a Thing (technical issue, get them something else they needed, who can say, right?) and of course it happens to by this guy who happens to know Demming.

Seems delighted to see him, all friendly like as they haul him in to ask a few questions and he’s got this smirk and is “hey, Demming. See you’ve moved up in the world,” and generally being a cocky little shit because he knows they can’t pin anything on him and also he has an alibi, but yeah, sure. Why not humor the cops for a bit? Should be fun.

Demming is just like ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ because yes, okay, he knows this little weasel. Busted him a few times for minor offenses and the whatnot but he always gets out and no one can make anything stick. But. He’s got a reputation for being able to get people what they need and rumors tying him to a string of robberies in a case a few years ago they were never able to solve.

But everyone knows he had something to do with it, you know?

So they ask him a few questions and get a lead. Doesn’t pan out, but what did they expect, really? (The next time they haul him in he does have a lead that pans out, so that’s nice.)

Shenanigans and whatnot, they see the footage showing Finch’s wife and Ike casing the bank and bring her in for questioning. Esposito races to Ike’s with Beckett and he has that conversation about it that’s all about Drama.

Back to the precinct and Beckett sparring with Demming and the “stealthy” sneaking around to get Demming’s SIM card and ~reveal that oh, yeah, no.

Not a dirty cop and you should all feel ashamed about even considering the possibility because the man is an angel, okay? An absolute angel.

(He definitely rescues cats out of trees on his way to coach underprivileged kids, you know he does.)

And then!

Esposito running off to help Ike steal the ledger and Demming is like ah, yes, Esposito is totally taking “a walk” and excuses himself to make a phone call, as you do.

Beckett and the others realize Holliwell is the dirty cop and since Esposito isn’t back yet – but before they can theorize as to why that is, Demming comes back in and says a “reliable source” told him Ike’s going after the ledger as they speak and with Esposito nowhere to be found it makes sense he’d be with him, right?

There’s this Moment where Beckett and Castle do the brain-twin thing and go hmmmm because it’s a little too convenient how Demming came by that info, but no time to worry about that now, they have to get to Ike and Esposito before Holliwell does.

Holliwell showing up to catch Esposito and Ike in the act and the pew-pew shooting before Beckett and the others catch Holliwell trying to make a break for it.

AND THEN.

Shenanigans in which other cases are dealt with and every so often Demming shows up and oh, hey.

Also Demming’s little weasel buddy?

Enough that he starts in on giving Esposito and the others grief too when they bring him in for questioning?

(Kind of weird how he keeps popping up, but whatever. Demming says the guy’s just like that and you just get used to it? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ )

Eventually though, there’s a case, right?

Some murder that’s tied to drugs and robberies and homicide(s) and he’s a suspect – and then a key witness – and all the good will and trust he’s built up with his little criminal circle doesn’t mean a damn thing when someone put a price on his head and anyway.

“Wait, what?”

Because they have to protect him from the baddies – a stipulation if they want the information he’s got in that head of his – and it’s like.

Like, sure. They could do that, or they could maybe put more pressure on the guy? Beckett and Esposito could break him, just give them time, and Demming is like.

“I mean, you could, but it wouldn’t get you much. Trust me.”

And so the safehouse and Demming’s little weasel courting painful, drawn-out murderization from Beckett and the others with all the shit he gives them? Seems delighted by it like he has no idea how close they are to snapping, and does he realize they definitely how to hide a body where no one will find it, but whatever.

The thing is, Beckett and the others would rather die than admit that yes, okay. They, too, have a soft spot for the little bastard the way Demming seems to?

Such a little shit, but weirdly endearing and also he has helped them out a time or two before, you know?

He really gets under Esposito's skin, though. Because flirty little bastard and Castle is like a kid in a candy store because a criminal willing to share stories and whatnot who hasn’t (yet) threatened to kill him!

Incredible!

Amazing!

(Also, a fan!)

Beckett kind of loves the way he pushes Esposito’s buttons and he’s just. It’s hard not to like him. (She pointedly ignores the looks she gets from Demming because they’re all of the “I told you so” variety and anyway.)

And then!

After a couple of days of this the weasel disappears on them – and it’s all !!! and also >:((((((((((( because not only how, but why????

Demming goes to get answers from his people while Beckett and the others try to find out where the little bastard’s gone.

Realize, after going over what they know about the case and the little bastard that of course he’s gone to talk to someone – make a deal with his boss (the one who put the price on his head) or something and anyway -

Demming runs into them to tell them there’s some kind of meet going on...somewhere and his weasel’s involved, and then madcap race to get there before the little bastard gets himself killed.

Shenanigans in which the bad guy gets the drop on Beckett and the others, looks like the whole gang is about to be murderized, right?

Drama and Bad Guy Confessions Via Monologue, the weasel about to get murdered for real, but what’s this?

A bunch of cops in from Narco and Robbery, also Captain Montgomery and associates and all cavalry to the rescue to save the day?

Bad guys in cuffs being led off and Esposito hauling the weasel along, pissed off like you wouldn’t believe because of course the little bastard snuck out on his watch – scared the shit out of him – and just.

Very much Annoyed.

Demming takes charge of the little weasel when they get back to the station, had this odd little smile on his face as Esposito hauled him away, right? One Beckett and Castle just could not figure out and then!

Beckett and the others up in Homicide finishing off reports and whatnot and not quite ready to head home?

She gets a call from Demming, says he has someone he wants them to meet and if everyone’s still there? To which she is like yes?????

And then!

Few minutes later the elevator goes ding!

Ding goes the elevator and out comes Demming and his little weasel?

No cuffs this time, and it looks like he’s had time to clean up and get a change of clothes, which is probably for the best because of all the blood and whatnot after being knocked around by the bad guys before Beckett and the others showed up.

Which also huh, you know, huh. Like, sure. Guy’s not their murder suspect, but also other crimes and why, okay, why is Demming smiling like that? Why is the weasel smiling like that?

(He does clean up well, though. Not that Esposito is staring or anything, goodness no.)

“Thought you’d like to meet Detective Kevin Ryan.”

Shit-eating grins on both their faces and Beckett and the others like what and then attempted murder of Ryan by Esposito because that little shit, and then shenanigans?

Also going out for drinks and the telling of a story that involves undercover work and many instances of running into Beckett and the others and being like – “Do you guys ever get a normal homicide case?” because Kevin’s new here and doesn’t realize and anyway.

For some reason Kevin Ryan ends up transferring to Homicide and Esposito grumbles to anyone who will listen for forever afterwards about getting stuck with him, but it’s pretty obvious someone needs to look out for the idiot.

And then shenanigans and Castle still prying stories and whatnot out of Ryan every chance he gets – Esposito gets this look on his face when he’s around for one because they’ve all gotten to know the little idiot by now and how the hell is he not dead yet???

And perhaps, also, there is still ~flirting because Ryan is still a little shit and Esposito cannot with this moron, but also there’s a betting pool, because of course there is.

Castle has a !!! “My goodness, I never would have expected you, of all people, to take part in this,” to Demming when he ponies up some money for the betting pool on how long until those idiots figure out their shit.

(Meanwhile, Ryan gets in on the betting pool about Beckett and Castle because how do they not see it and anyway, yes.)

Shenanigans???

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#castle nonsense #castle #rysposito #technically not a fic #vagrant fic #i'm love them #¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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mcwriting · 4 years ago

Text

The Marriage Project (11)

I'm baaaaack :) Sorry it's been so long y'all but I'm finally on break so hopefully I can push out more content soon! Pls enjoy!

Masterlist

Word Count: 2130

Warnings: little bit of language, mild mentions of alcohol

% approximately the last weekend of October/first week of November %

Sunday, you went wedding dress shopping.

Kinda.

It was for homecoming court. Your school had a tradition where the ladies in the running for queen wore white wedding dresses, so your mom and you went out in search of one.

You’d already gotten your dress for the actual dance weeks prior, so you started at the same store.

It didn’t take long for you to stumble upon one you liked, a slim a-line that accentuated your muscles and curves. There was a draped neckline and a somewhat low back. The entire dress had a grecian feel with the small silver accents dusted across it.

The second you put it on you fell in love, so you made the purchase and set off for shoes, easily finding a pair of heels that would put you at a similar level with Tom.

The next day, you made your way to class for another round of praise and congratulations for the tournament that weekend. The trophy was already sitting in the school display case, the plaque yet to be made with your school’s name and the year.

It was spirit week, so everyone was dressed in clothes that fit the day’s theme.

All morning, people were coming up and asking you about the tournament and homecoming, many of them pledging to vote for you.

Things felt nice.

You and Tom didn’t talk much throughout the morning, but exchanged a few jabs and laughs here and there.

Later, you sat around the lunch table with your girlfriends as usual, this time discussing the homecoming nominations.

“Y/n, there’s literally no way you won’t be queen. I’ve talked to a ton of people and all of them are saying they’re gonna vote for you,” one of them said.

“Aw shucks, you’re making me blush. Obviously I’d like to win queen, but we’ll see. It’s whatever. If Harrison wins king I’ll drop out.”

“As if. No one even likes him. I’m pretty sure he was voted in as a meme. Everyone knows Tom is gonna win,” Alexis stated. “And if Tom wins, you’ll win too with everyone thinking you’re together.”

“Hmm. I honestly hope Tuwaine gets the vote. He’s so sweet and totally deserves it.”

“I think we all know you’d prefer Tom as your royal counterpart,” one friend suggested, causing you to roll your eyes.

“How many times do I have to tell you guys! Nothing is going on! On another note, though, I got my white dress,” you mentioned, trying to steer the conversation away.

“Really? Let us see!” Caroline exclaimed.

“Ah, ah, ah. I’m saving it as a surprise for Friday. The only person who’s seen it is my mom, and it’s staying that way until the parade.”

You continued talking about the upcoming festivities and your excitement for the week, and the announcement of who would be crowned queen Friday at the pep rally.

That afternoon, you went to study hall with Alexis. Now that you were between sports, you had a free period to go do art, work out, or just “study,” so you chose the latter as a way to take a breather from everything that had been going on.

“So tell me everything about Johnny’s this weekend. Loved the costumes,” you started as you plopped down at two desks in the very back of the room.

“Not much to report. We mostly just hung out but I heard one dude had to go get his stomach pumped or something after the cops got there. We dipped out before it was busted because it was obvious they were coming. Now how was your weekend, since we’re finally alone?”

You thought about how much you’d actually tell her, especially considering that you hadn’t told her really anything about yours and Tom’s interactions in past weeks.

“Pretty good. It was mostly just volleyball.”

“Oh yeah? What all went down with Tom? Anna told me you seemed pretty close.”

Your face burned.

“We hugged after winning the tournament. Not a big deal. Oh and we maybe kinda pretended to be a couple Friday night.”

“What? You didn’t think to lead with that?!”

“It was for like a minute while we went up the elevator. This drunk couple was harassing us so we just played along for a little bit. Whatever,” you shrugged.

“Did you do anything couple-y? Don’t tell me you guys kissed.”

You tried not to cringe before somewhat telling a lie.

“I kissed him on the cheek and he put his arm around me. I swear it was nothing serious, Lex.”

“Hm. I still think you’ve gotta be hiding something, but I just don’t know what. And I’m gonna get to the bottom of it.”

Good luck with that. I’m not about to crack yet.

Spirit week continued with people coming up to let you know their votes had been cast for you. The voting ended Thursday so that votes could be counted before the pep rally.

When Friday did hit, you woke up early and tucked your volleyball jersey into some jeans and tossed on your letter jacket, as the day’s theme was school colors and jerseys.

You popped on some mascara and lip gloss, then headed to school, becoming more nervous as you got closer.

The pep rally would be right after lunch, but almost everyone was so excited for the weekend festivities that teachers basically gave everyone a free day so that the students in charge of the event could continue their planning and the athletes could prepare for the rally.

The pep rally was mostly for the football game, but they were also going to recognize the volleyball team’s accomplishments, so you prepared for that and the whole homecoming court thing.

In home ec, Mrs. Flynn let those that needed to help set up for the pep rally eat your lunches in class and then leave early.

You and Tom finished about the same time and went to your lockers to grab your things.

“Ready to win?” Tom asked as you walked towards the gym.

“Nope. You?”

“Yeah, actually. Maybe it’s just because I love winning so much.”

You gave him a little shove as you continued walking. Tom had his jersey on without the pads, so it fit big on him. You admired the way it draped over his thin, toned frame.

A bit later and the pep rally had begun with the dance team doing their routine, then came athlete recognitions.

They started with the volleyball team, calling you all out to the basketball court to wave as everyone cheered. After you all, the cheer squad hyped everyone up for the football team to come out.

You stood in a corner of the gym with Zendaya, as they would be announcing the homecoming court next. You both talked a little bit, but things were somewhat awkward.

Finally came the time to announce the winners. As with nominations, things went in order from freshman to senior, eventually reaching the king and queen announcement. The six of you stepped out onto the basketball court, the pit in your stomach bigger than before.

“Alright ladies and gentlemen, I know that this is the moment you have all been waiting so patiently for!” Mrs. Johnson looked around the bleachers at the cheering students, holding up her paper with everyone’s positions.

“We’re going to start with our third place, the duke and duchess of homecoming! May I have a drumroll please!”

Everyone stomped their feet and clapped.

“This year’s duke is Mr. Harrison Osterfield, and the duchess is Daisy Ridley!”

Cheers went up, not completely enthusiastic for the pair. You felt a little bit of satisfaction knowing the people you liked least had gotten third place.

“Now for our runners up, the prince and princess!” She paused for effect. “Tuwaine Barrett and Zendaya Coleman!”

More cheers rang out than before. Your jaw dropped as you looked at Tom.

“And that means that your senior king and queen are Tom Holland and y/n y/l/n! Congratulations to all of you. Can’t wait to see you at the parade, game, and dance!” Mrs. Johnson called out, dismissing everyone back to class.

Someone came and placed the crown on your head and slipped a silver sash which read “homecoming queen” over your body. You couldn’t help but slap a hand over your mouth.

“What did I tell you! I knew you’d win!” Tom exclaimed, holding out his hands. You so badly wanted to hug him, but decided not to in front of the whole school, at least not until tomorrow night.

Your friends rushed up and congratulated you, fawning over the crown and sash and laughing. Before you left, you had to return the two items to a teacher so you would have them for later that night.

As you left school that afternoon, you felt like you were floating on air.

You were back at the school later that evening, the game just over a couple hours away. There were families lining the street prepared to watch the parade make its way down.

Since leaving the school before, you’d put your hair in loose curls and done a full face of makeup. You tossed on some sweats and zipped up your varsity jacket, taking your dress and shoes along in the car to change there.

You waited until the last minute to slip on the outfit, causing people to fawn over you when you stepped outside to see everyone who was waiting.

Someone pinned the crown to your head and helped you slip on the sash, then led you to the convertible where Tom was waiting. You’d get to ride around sitting on the back waving like you’d always dreamed of doing.

Your heels clacked on the sidewalk as you confidently stepped. Sure, you didn’t wear heels much, but you sure knew how to work them.

It felt like slow motion when Tom turned around and you saw each other for the first time. He was wearing slacks and a sport coat and his curls were perfectly placed around his own crown. You both gasped a little.

“Y/n! You look… you look like-”

“Let me guess. A princess?” you smirked, raising a brow.

“I was gonna say queen.”

You rolled your eyes and chuckled, giving him a little shove. He helped you climb into the back of the car, and someone went to hand you his letter jacket.

“What’s this for?” you asked.

“Usually if it’s cold the queen wears her partners’ letterman over her shoulders if he has one.”

You thought about it. It was pretty chilly, after all.

“You don’t have to wear mine, y/n. Did you bring yours?” Tom asked, making you smile.

“Yeah, actually. I did. Would someone mind going and grabbing it from my stuff? It’s just inside.”

One girl ran and brought it back in a few minutes, and Tom helped drape it over just your shoulders.

“That’s more like it,” he said, giving you a smile as he fixed the neck.

A few minutes later, the cars and floats began moving and families cheered as you passed, waving with a smile on your face.

You and Tom talked to each other quietly as you looked around both sides of the street. When you reached the end, someone had you pose for a couple pictures in the daylight before the football players headed off to get ready for the game.

This was not only homecoming, but senior night, so they all wanted to be on their A-game.

Different people came up to congratulate you and you took pictures with friends, family, and even a few little kids. You were talking with the girls when you felt a hand on your shoulder.

You turned around to find the Holland family, including Nikki’s parents and a woman you assumed to be Dominic’s mom.

“Well I sure am glad to see that people have some decent sense around here,” Grandma said, giving you a warm smile. You gave her a hug then greeted the rest of the family.

“You look beautiful, dear. Congratulations,” said Nikki as she gave you a squeeze.

“Oh, y/n, this is my mother,” Dom explained, gesturing to another elderly woman.

“Just call me Nana, dear. I’ve heard a lot about you.” You smiled as she held your hands in hers.

“Thank you! Tom’s told me about you, too.”

Nikki shot some pictures of you with their family. It felt weird to be in their photos without Tom, but also comfortable, like you’d known them your whole life. You had to hold back a laugh when you took one kissing Paddy’s cheek and making him blush.

Eventually your parents also came over and talked to them, and everyone made their ways to the stadium.

A/N: omg it's been way too long since I updated TMP! I just wanted to pre-warn that next chapter will have the heaviest themes of this story. It will have adequate warnings but I want to make everyone aware!

Thanks for reading!

Send a message or ask if you’d like to be added to my permanent or series taglists so I can verify you’ve been added!

Story tag list: @jackiehollanderr, @one-big-fangirl, @l0lmk, @primadonnasdream, @bookworm06, @thenoddingbunny-blog, @agentnataliahofferson, @spider-babe, @stxfxniexreads, @justafangirlduh, @supraveng

#the marriage project #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland imagine #tom holland au #tom holland series #tom holland fic

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softboyuris · 4 years ago

Text

Doctor’s Orders

Spencer Reid x Reader

Words: 5.2k+

A/N: I did a thing. It became this thing because of @eideticmemory. I am in no way shape or form half the writer she is but I had to do this. Inspired by this anon.

Summary: Spencer losing his virginity. That’s it. That’s the plot

Warnings: sex, swearing

{masterlist}

Spencer Reid did not party. He did not go to bars or get drunk. He rarely had more than one drink when he did go out with his coworkers, or more, was forced to. Don’t get it wrong, he loved them. They were more like a family to him than work buddies but in his line of work, he rarely had a day off. So when he did, he would prefer to spend it his way- curled up on his leather sofa with a good book, or ten. And no one could change his mind.

Now Derek Morgan, Spencer’s best friend and one of his aforementioned coworkers- although some might say they’re more akin to brothers than either of those labels- he liked to party. He loved going out with his friends, doing shots and drunkenly destroying open mic night. And he always, without fail, dragged Spencer out with him.

What? He was concerned for his friend. His best friend. Spencer never talked about what happened while on the job but Derek knew it got to him. It got to them all something that came with the territory. And recently he had been extra stressed and tense and Derek knew just what he needed.

A night out on the town where, hopefully, he could help pretty boy get laid.

Spencer didn’t want this. He begged, literally begged Derek to let him stay in but ultimately lost the fight. Because in the end, Spencer did enjoy hanging out with him he just wasn’t always too happy about the location. Or getting stranded at whatever bar and/or club they stumbled into after Derek, without fail, went home with a girl. Sometimes two.

Trilly’s was a local bar, often frequented by cops meaning it wasn’t too heavily trafficked and even when it was a busy night, it’s numbers didn’t compare to the bar Spence knew Derek would drag him to.

Which is why when Spencer agreed to go out, “Just for an hour, tops,” his one condition was that they go there. While his best friend may enjoy hitting on an entire group of girls at once, Spencer much preferred to sit in a corner and observe.

Flirting was not his forte and he had little to no desire to make it one. Sure, he’d been on a few dates before. Kissed one or two girls in college but dating just wasn’t really his thing. Really, it wasn’t. It’s not like he didn’t have game or anything. That totally wasn’t the reason.

As bad as it was, Trilly’s very rarely saw females. Spencer knew the statistics, and with under thirty percent of law enforcement being female, the odds were in his favor. He could go out, have a drink with his friend and avoid any awkward confrontations when Derek would inevitably try to be his wingman. It would be a fun, easy night.

After almost a month of detective work, Y/N had finally caught the son of a bitch who had been ransacking local, small businesses over the past two months in Alexandria. She was exhausted. Twenty-seven days of non-stop work, late nights and early mornings that sometimes bled into each other. She hadn’t taken a single day off.

Many of the businesses the culprit hit had to shut down because they didn’t have the means to stay open. Citizens didn’t want to shop at a store that had been burglarized by a man in the wind, worried he’d come back for more than just a few valuables. So Y/N put all her effort into finding him with some sliver of hope that it could save the business that hadn’t gone under already.

John Willis was pulled over for his taillight being out and the cop that apprehended him noticed several of the missing items that had been reported laying in his backseat. Y/N wondered how, after evading law enforcement for two months, he was caught so easily.

She didn’t let it weigh on her mind for long though. Willis was locked up and she finally got a night off.

She wouldn’t call herself a party girl, but she was known to get a little mischievous at the local cop bar, Trilly’s, every now and then. And tonight, she planned on having some fun.

Y/N dragged her best friend and crime-fighting partner, Jasmine, out with her. Jasmine had reluctantly agreed, having just gone through a pretty rough break-up. Y/N reminded her that he was trash and she would find someone better. “Or at the very least a very hot cop to have rebound sex with.”

Jasmine rolled her eyes. “I will do no such thing.” But she agreed to come out anyway.

When Y/N got to Jasmine’s apartment to pick her up, Jas was already waiting outside, dressed in a low cut deep blue dress that hugged her curvy figure. “Damn girl, I’d take you home in that outfit.” Y/N quipped as Jasmine got into the car.

Jasmine looked her best friend, who wore a similar dress that was red, up and down with a smirk. “Right back at you, sexy.”

Trilly’s was unusually busy for a Wednesday night. When Y/N and Jasmine finally made it through the door, the place was pretty packed. The music was turned up louder than normal and a large group of people had made the middle of the room into a makeshift dance floor. Or grind floor would be more accurate, as that’s the only dance move these people evidently knew how to do.

They squeezed their way past sweaty bodies to the bar, hailing the attention of the bartender almost immediately. Y/N ordered them a round of shots.

“Starting the night off strong, are we?” Jasmine popped one eyebrow up as she leaned against the slightly sticky bar littered with peanut shells and drops of missed alcohol.

Y/N nodded. “Only way to do it!” She partially yelled over all the commotion around her. The bartender set down two shots in front of them. “To rebound sex.”

Jasmine laughed, a barely noticeable blush dotting her cheekbones. “Mmhmm, sure.” She raised her glass but Y/N stopped her before she could down the liquid.

“Nuh-uh,” She tutted. “Say it back or else it won’t work.” With reluctance, Jasmine just barely whispered the cheer back but it was enough to satiate Y/N. “Much better.” She chimed. They clinked their glasses together and downed them simultaneously, placing them upside down on the bar after.

Spencer was already uncomfortable. Derek and him had literally just stepped foot in the bar and he was already regretting his decision to go out tonight. It being a Wednesday, he never thought in a million years it’d be this busy.

People pushed past each other in front of him. A group of at least twenty people were grinding against each other in the middle of the room where they’d deemed it the dance floor for the night. The floor was sticky as was the booth and table the two men eventually found themselves seated in. Spencer grimaced, his phobia of germs eating at his mind.

“Breathe pretty boy.” Derek smiled, slapping Spencer’s arm across the table. Spencer inhaled slowly, looking around at all the people bustling around him. This was clearly not his scene.

“I didn’t expect it to be this crowded.” Spencer yelled over the noise.

Derek laughed, “Where’s the fun in an empty bar?” Spencer held back the glare that was fighting to make itself known. When he didn’t respond, Derek slapped his hands on the table. “I’m going to go get us drinks.”

Y/N scanned the crowd for Jasmine who had said twenty minutes ago that she was going to slip out to the bathroom.

After a few minutes of searching, she spotted her friend practically sitting in the lap of some stranger at a booth across the room. She laughed to herself, setting some cash down on the bar for their drinks before making her way through the crowd.

When she gets to the booth, Jasmine looks up at her. “Y/N, you found me.” Her words are a little slurred. Y/N forgot how much of a lightweight her friend is. “This is Derek. He’s an FBI agent.” She whispered the last bit, or thought she did but the men at the booth laughed.

Which is when she noticed the guy sitting opposite them. She made eye contact with him and smiled. She could feel her face get hot but she passed it off on the alcohol coursing through her veins.

He was cute. Y/N studied his face for a second, hoping he wouldn’t notice her blatantly checking him out. He looked pretty young. Obviously he was old enough to be an FBI agent but had she not known that, she would have guessed him to be fresh out of college.

His hair was longer but it suited him and he had really kind eyes that Y/N was drawn to. Even though he sitting, she could tell he was tall. His shoulders slumped slightly as if trying to fold in on himself, something she knew all too well being quite tall herself.

“Y/N.” She introduced herself, snapping out of her dazed state and returning her attention to Derek, who was the exact opposite of the guy she was just looking at. “Nice to meet you. Sorry, about my friend.” She joked.

Derek shook his head, a wide smile on his face. “Nothing to be sorry about.” Any other guy and she would have been pulling Jasmine away but there was something about Derek that was non-threatening. She somehow knew her friend was in good hands.

Literally, he had great hands. His muscled arm was wrapped tightly round Jasmine’s waist as she leaned into his side. Y/N would be lying if she didn’t admit to his obvious allure.

Y/N looked back over to the other guy, who she now noticed had been staring at her the whole time. Upon them locking eyes, he swallowed. “Is this seat taken?” She asks him, pointing to the empty spot beside him. He shakes his head, his hands falling nervously into his lap.

Spencer was mentally scolding himself for being at a loss of words, which he never was. He could rattle off facts about literally anything and talk for hours but right now, he was speechless.

Y/N slide into the booth beside him. “So, are you with the FBI too?” She asked, her hands cupping her glass. She figured he was but since he didn’t offer her a name, she figured she would try and make conversation.

He nodded. Derek cleared his throat and Spencer looked up at him, pleadingly. His friend just aggressively nodded in Y/N’s direction, a way of telling him to say something.

“I’m Spencer.” He squeaked out.

Y/N looked up from the table. “It’s nice to meet you Spencer.” She smiled. Spencer waited for the inevitable offering of her hand, getting prepared to explain how he doesn’t shake hands because the amount of germs that are passed in a handshake are staggeringly high.

His eyebrows pinched together when a few moments passed and her hands didn’t move from her glass. “You don’t shake hands?” He asked, slightly dumbfounded.

Y/N chuckled. “Did you want me to?” She asked, a smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth. Spencer’s cheeks ran crimson and Y/N smiled at herself. “Not on the job, don’t feel the need to be so formal.” She summed up, leaning against the worn leather of the booth.

“Where do you work?” It feels like such a dumb question but it’s left his mouth before he can process it. You’re at a cop bar, Spencer, where the fuck do you think?

“Alexandria PD.” Y/N answers without thought, sipping at her drink. “Been there for three years now.”

“Oh, don’t be so modest.” Jasmine waves her hand at her best friend, scoffing. She turns to Derek, pressing her pointer finger into his chest to accentuate her words. “She's the lead detective. Youngest to ever be promoted.”

Spencer’s eyes don’t leave Y/N while Jasmine talks. Y/N looks at her friend incredulously but there’s a small smile on her face and a blush is creeping up her neck. “I don’t like bragging.” She says to Jasmine, a small laugh leaving her lips.

Spencer has never been mesmerized before but he’s completely lost in Y/N’s laugh that he barely hears Jasmine continue talking.

“Pfft, it’s a big deal, Y/N. It’s not every day that a twenty-five year old gets promoted to that position.” Jasmine continues.

“Sounds like congratulations are in order.” Derek smiles, his eyes never leaving Jasmine. Y/N shakes her head. Jasmine is definitely not going home in the same car she came in.

“Thank you, but it’s not a new promotion.” She takes another sip of her beer, welcoming any distraction at this point. She hates it when she’s the center of attention.

“She never wants to celebrate her successes.” Jasmine tuts, rolling her eyes. She finally breaks eye contact with Derek to look at Spencer. “You know, she was top of her class at UCLA and has three masters. Three. I barely got through my one.” Jasmine hiccups at the end, nodding.

Derek looks over at Spencer and Y/N. “Looks like pretty boys gonna have a run for his money.”

Y/N looks over at Spencer, quirking an eyebrow. “Oh.”

Spencer’s cheeks darken but he doesn’t offer further explanation. Y/N looks to Derek for answers instead. “Three PhD’s.” He says, raising three of his fingers up in conjunction with his words.

Y/N nearly chokes on her beer. “Three?” Getting her master’s was hard enough she couldn’t fathom doing it again for her doctorates.

“He goes by doctor.” Derek winks at her.

“Morgan.” Spencer warns, looking up at him with stern eyes. Derek throws his hands up in surrender. “You don’t have to call me doctor.” He says to Y/N, running a hand through his hair. “He just likes messing me.”

Y/N smirks. It’s small and nearly imperceptible but Spencer notices and it makes his breathing pick up. “Who said I didn’t want to, Doc?” Spencer swallows, pressing his hands together to distract himself.

The conversation moves on but after a while, Jasmine and Derek are in their own little world, leaving Spencer and Y/N to talk.

She learns that he was the youngest person ever recruited for the FBI, a fact which he didn’t want to own up to. Similar to Y/N, he didn’t like the spotlight on him. Unlike Y/N, he had a reason to have the spotlight on him, which she told him after finding out he’s a literal genius.

“You can’t have an IQ that high and expect people to not put you at the center of their attention.” Spencer blushed at her words.

“I don’t mind your attention.” He replies, making Y/N’s heart skip a beat. “But normally, people are more annoyed by it than they are fascinated by it.”

Y/N tucks a pieces of hair behind her ear. “Well they’re clearly missing out.”

They talk for what feels like hours. Every new piece of information Y/N gets, she savors. There’s something about Spencer that makes her want to know everything about him. And she damn near does.

He doesn’t just work for the FBI, he works for the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI, which is like the best of the best. He has an eidetic memory and can read 20,000 words per minute, a skill which Y/N is borderline envious of, and he’s from Las Vegas. Which is where his mom lives, in a clinical facility because she has schizophrenia.

“I’m so sorry, that must be really hard on you.” Y/N says, placing her hand on Spencer’s arm soothingly. Her eyes are soft like her hand which he notices when he accidentally brushes it. She really means it.

Spencer learns that Y/N came to Virginia after university because her dad passed away and she was the only person in her family close to him. He left everything to her which also meant she had to go through all his belongings.

A tenant in his apartment building found him dead. The initial report said he had died of natural causes but after his autopsy they found signs of foul play. As it turns out, he was murdered. It’s what propelled Y/N to become a cop in the first place. “I set up base here and never looked back.”

He also learned that she’s probably the sweetest and funniest person he’s ever met, and he’s friends with Penelope and JJ. She’s smart, she seems to pick up on all his little quirks and respects them. And she’s beautiful, which he knew from the instant he saw her but is even more pronounced now that he’s getting to know her.

The two had been so engrossed in their conversation they didn’t notice that their friends were no longer sitting across from them. With a quick glance behind them, Y/N saw Jasmine slip out the front door, holding Derek’s hand and laughing flirtatiously.

Spencer groans next to her. “He was my ride home.”

“Did you really think the night was going to end any differently for those two?” Y/N asks, settling back into the seat.

“No.” Spencer relents. Without thinking, he reaches across Y/N and takes her drink, taking a few sips before realizing what he’s done. “Sorry.” He says, placing the cup down.

Y/N moves a fraction of an inch closer to him. “I don’t mind.” Her hand lightly brushes his thigh. “But, as you probably already know, we practically just kissed.”

Spencer’s breath hitches in his throat as Y/N’s hand comes to rest fully on his thigh, her fingertips lightly tracing circles on his inner thigh. He tries to focus on anything else but he can practically feel the blood rushing to his dick.

Y/N notices the change in his demeanor, leaning in closer so she can whisper. “I’ll stop if you want me to.” Y/N doesn’t know what’s come over her. Sure, she’s hooked up with guys she just met at the bar before but she’s never been this straightforward with someone. Not right off the bat, and definitely not with this much ease.

The tension between them has been palpable ever since she sat down an hour ago and now, with their friends gone, there was nothing stopping her from commenting on it.

Spencer shook his head at her words, mumbling something Y/N didn’t quite pick up on. “What was that, doc?” She emphasized the last word, her hand slowly moving up his thigh.

He started to bounce his right leg nervously. Y/N smirked. “I make you nervous?” He nodded slowly. Y/N stopped what she was doing, removing her hand and putting some space in between them. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” She was suddenly overcome with embarrassment, her actions finally seeping into the logical side of her brain.

“I didn’t tell you to stop.” Spencer nearly growled. Now it was Y/N’s turns to blush as she nervously looked over at him. There was a hunger in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. She unconsciously squeezed her legs together.

He leans closer to her until his lips are grazing her ear. “The bathroom’s empty, we could sneak away, no one would even notice.”

Y/N swallows at the implication. He’s been watching, waiting for the right moment to initiate whatever the fuck this was. Which means he knew it would get to this at some point.

Without a second thought, Y/N grabs his hand, hauling him out of the booth and making a beeline for the bathroom.

Just as Spencer had told her, the bathroom was empty. That, of course, didn’t stop her from checking all the stalls to make for certain that they were alone. Trust me, no one wanted to hear what was about to happen.

Spencer was still standing by the door, his once cocky demeanor now dwindling into the awkward nervousness that Y/N had grown to love about him.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” She says softly, grabbing both his hands. They just met, she doesn’t know what he has or hasn’t done before and while Y/N might have some experience with bathroom sex, she’s found that not all people do. In fact, it’s very rare for her to find someone who has.

Spencer lets go of her hands and for a split second she thinks he’s going to turn around and walk out but then his lips are on hers and she’s trying to get her brain to catch up because she’s missing it.

In a surge of confidence, Spencer cups Y/N’s face, smashing his lips against hers. After a moment, she kisses back, her hands coming up to run through his hair.

The moans that fall from her lips at the contact has him hard. He moves them so she’s the one pressed against the door, his hands coming down to grab her hips and pull her against him.

His tongue asks for entry and she gladly concedes. In a swift motion, she’s wrapped her legs around his waist, his hands supporting her by holding her thighs.

Y/N’s dress has been effectively hiked up from the change in position and while she respects his respect for her, she wants his hands on her. She reaches down to move them up until they’re resting on her bum. With a satisfied grin she pulls away from his lips.

He looks at her, out of breath and red in the face. “You’re not wearing underwear.” He breaths out.

She laughs, curling her finger around the hair at the back of his neck. “Actually, I was. Seemed to have lost them.” She shrugs innocently.

His eyes widen as he realizes what she’s saying. Something in her knew he would get it. He chastely kisses her cheek, his lips hovering over her ear. “You took them off, didn’t you? When you went to the restroom twenty-seven minutes ago.”

Y/N bites her lip, partially to fight back the laugh that wanted to come out knowing Spencer had counted the minutes, and nods. “Naughty, naughty girl.” He whispers, biting her ear. She gasps at the action, not expecting it, which propels him to grind against her.

“You gonna do something about it, doc?” She giggles, leaning forward to place a kiss on his collarbone.

Spencer moves them over to the sinks and sets her down on the counter, standing between her legs as he kisses her neck. Y/N starts to undo the buttons of his shirt just enough to expose his chest, which she runs her fingernails down, leaving red tracks in their wake.

“Fuck.” He groans, his forehead pressing into her chest. She lifts his head up to kiss him, fingers combing through his hair again, an action she’s coming to thoroughly enjoy.

“Do you have a condom?” Y/N asks as she kisses down his neck, her hands following in motion until they hit the top of his jeans.

Something about the question jars Spencer. Like his thoughts finally register exactly what he’s doing and the nerves slowly creep back into his stomach. He nods hastily, reaching into his back pocket where his wallet is. He sets it down beside Y/N on the counter.

Y/N unbuttons his pants and pulls the zipper down, tantalizingly slow, being careful to avoid touching his erection. Still attacking his neck with kisses, she pushes both his jeans and boxers down and they land bunched around his ankles.

She can’t help but look. I mean, really, it’s human nature to be curious.

His whole body is flushed red, or marked red by her fingernails and mouth, and that doesn’t exclude what he’s packing. And boy, is he packing. Y/N swallows at the sight.

Spencer avoids eye contact now that he’s fully exposed but Y/N is gentle in bringing his eyes to hers. She kisses him. “There’s nothing to be nervous about. Bathroom sex is just like normal, bed sex.” She laughs a little at her phrasing.

Spencer just nods nervously, reaching next to her to pick up the condom. He rips the package open and, with slightly shaking hands, focuses on putting it on.

After a few moments of fumbling hands, ragged breaths and a deep red blush that’s been slowly creeping up his neck, a smile slides across Y/N’s face. She places her hands over his and he looks up at her with worry in his eyes. “This is your first time doing this, huh?”

He swallows nervously, a small nod of his head indicating that her assumption was correct. “Like, ever?” He nods again. She responds by bringing his lips to hers. Y/N kisses him gently, a lot more calm and composed than they had been walking into this bathroom.

There’s still a nervousness about him but Y/N feels him relax into the kiss, slowly gaining back some of the confidence he had a minute ago. His tongue swipes over her bottom lip, her jaw dropping to allow him to search her mouth with his tongue as if he’s done this a hundred times before.

Had she not asked, she never would have guessed that he was a virgin. Aside from the obvious nerves, which she had passed off as a combination of alcohol and public sex, there was nothing about the way he held himself that made her second guess it.

His blush has completely taken over his face and it makes Y/N’s heart beat faster, if that is even possible because it was already running at a million beats per second. The taste of him overwhelms her senses which is why she lets out a small whine when he pulls away.

Spencer looks into Y/N’s eyes, his own glazed over with lust. “It’s okay.” She whispers, dragging her hand down his chest until it lands right above his sex. “I’ll teach you.”

He gulps, audibly gulps, as she wraps her hand around his cock. His forehead falls to her shoulder briefly as a barely audible “fuck” falls out of his mouth.

Y/N shuts her eyes and tries to contain the excitement boiling inside of her.

She slips the condom on with ease. Spencer watches her do it before looking up at her. Now she can see just how nervous he is. His hands are slightly fidgeting at his sides so she grabs them, placing them on her hips.

She scoots forward enough for access while still being supported by the granite beneath her. Spencer’s hold on her hips tightens.

Y/N hooks her hands behind his neck, giving him a nod of approval. “Whenever you’re ready, baby.” She whispers, looking in his eyes. Her entire demeanor has changed. She’s settled down so that he can enjoy this as much as possible and her eyes reflect that kindness.

Spencer removes one of his hands from her hips to help guide himself. He fumbles a little but after a few misses, his tip gently pushes into her. Y/N inhales sharply at the contact.

“Is this okay?” Spencer asks hesitantly, searching Y/N’s eyes for any sign of regret. She nods her head enthusiastically, a whimper falling from her lips.

“Yes, please, Spence, fuck me.”

He obliges, inching into her slowly until he’s buried to the hilt. “You okay?” He asks again, freezing his motions.

Y/N, overcome with pleasure, takes a minute to reply. “Please keep going.”

He finds a steady rhythm. It takes him a bit of time but he gets there eventually, fueled on by the soft moans that fall sporadically from Y/N’s lips. His thrusts are slow at first, picking up in speed as he grows more confident.

Spencer, being the person he is, knows everything there is to know about sex. But knowing about it and actually doing it are two very different things and he’s coming to that realization very fast.

Words cannot describe how good this feels. The way her walls clench around his cock with every thrust. The feeling of her hands on his back, fingers pressing little crescents into his skin hard enough to leave a bruise. And the noises she makes when he hits that perfect spot, encouraging him to continue.

Pure bliss is what it is. If this is what heaven’s like, Spencer Reid would gladly die in Y/N’s arms right now.

Y/N hooks her ankles around his waist, pulling him closer. She gasps out a moan at the new angle, her head falling back. Spencer somehow manages to pull her hips even closer. He thrusts faster but at a steady pace that has Y/N’s legs shaking.

“Spencer.” She moans when his lips attach onto her neck and start sucking the spot just above her collarbone. She’s close, which honestly shocks her. She also knows Spencer’s not going to last much longer, she doesn’t expect him to at least.

“Shit.” He mumbles against her neck.

“You gonna come?” Y/N asks between gasps of breath, one of her hands moving down to rub circles on her clit.

“Mmhmm.” Spencer moans.

“Then come baby,” She encourages, getting closer to her own release now that her fingers are working are her core, electricity jolting her body.

He tuts, a moan breaking the action. Y/N can tell he’s holding back. Spencer lifts his head so he’s looking at her and it nearly sends him over the edge, that look of pleasure plastered on her face. “Wanna wait, for, fuck- for you.” He manages out between moans.

“I’m right behind you baby, just let go.” As if under her complete control, Spencer releases and within a second is tumbling over that edge, stilling inside her. His orgasm knocks the breath out of him.

He’s jerked off before, had countless orgasms in the privacy of his own bed but nothing like this. Never like this. His head falls onto Y/N’s shoulder, slick with sweat.

The feeling of Spencer unloading inside her has Y/N coming, Spencer’s name leaving her lips in broken moans as she wraps her arms around him.

Spencer remains motionless for a minute, trying to catch his breath. Y/N can’t fathom trying to move right now, so she welcomes the stillness, her hands rubbing Spencer’s back.

After a moment, he stands up and helps clean Y/N up. She smiles the whole time at the gesture. After pulling his clothes back on, Spencer stands in front of Y/N.

“That was…” Spencer breathed out, his hands landing on Y/N’s thighs.

“Unexpected.” She finished his thought. “Amazing. Best you’ve ever had?” She laughs, her hands propped on his shoulders.

“I have nothing to compare it to but I’ll get back to you on that.” Y/N laughed.

“I’ll hold you to that.” She smiles. He leans in and kisses her softly.

“It was definitely something.” Spencer says as he helps Y/N down from the counter, balancing her when she stumbles slightly under her weight.

Spencer’s arm wraps around her waist. “It definitely was.”

“Did you really think the night was going to end any differently?” He asks, repeating the words she had said to him right before everything changed.

Y/N smiled, shaking her head. “Nope. It was just what the doctor ordered.”

#dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #spencer x reader #this is not my best i dont think #but fuck it #hope you enjoyed #first time #reid x reader #mgg #Matthew Gray Gubler

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hopeshoodie · 3 years ago

Note

what do you think of the independent article about fusebox games??

For those who don’t know, here’s a link to the article (luckily not behind a paywall).

In summary, we knew that Fusebox laid off all of its writers and a bunch of unity engineers on July 30th. What we didn’t know, is weeks before there was conflict about Seduction Games on matchmaker (which imo is super misogynistic and not even erotic enough to make up for it) being biphobic, and the staff wrote an open letter to management. Then they all... Got fired....

And oh boy I have THOUGHTS on it

Before even reading the article I knew what the homophobic issue the writers were concerned about was. I wrote about it when first playing Seduction Games on matchmaker (lol fuck Matchmaker)- there's a scene where the player dares the love interest to embarrass a man by pretending he's gay and making a scene. And that's just... So gross.

After reading the article I guess it was more that Seduction Games is fetishistic and treating bisexuality as a voyeuristic game for het relationships. And that's valid (but also imo not the worst thing FB has done in the department, see Boah in CMM and how they hide their mlm ships from straight players).

I want so badly to read the internal letter sent by the staff because I'm nosy but also I wish I had their words on the matter specifically. I wonder if they were more frustrated with not having control/input in Matchmaker (understandable, it was the precursor to losing their jobs), being lied to that the offending content would be removed only for it to then be released, or just that Fusebox would let offensive content be put out under their brand name to begin with.

Some other disorganized thoughts

The COO sounds like a real piece of work. I don't remember which article I read awhile ago that made it sound like the leadership (CEO and COO) changed and then Fusebox swiftly pivoted to prioritizing shorter content for an international audience. It sounds like he was a part of that. He has a ton of op eds about how to monetize free-to-play models and generally has Bad Takes. But walking out of a meeting and refusing to hear constructive criticism? What an absolute man baby. But also, doesn't he look the part

a real nathen mazri looking dude.

From a business standpoint, I see why they released Seduction Games despite their writing department vocalizing discontent with it. I've seen this shift on a bunch of other story apps. There's money in romance games that target a 13-22 year old female audience that incorporates softcore porn or questionably sexy content. It's a huge issue on Episode, which is technically a childrens app, but the stories that skirt the boundary of appropriate and not are the ones that get the most reads/gems spent/revenue. If you've played Seduction Games, you know it's exactly that. Written with really bland, simple language so that younger readers are engaged, with juvenile, surface-level romance elements and attempts at erotic writing. The characters aren't unique or interesting (the love interest is a massive creep), but it's optimized to appeal to the most amount of people. If they were planning on firing and outsourcing their writing department anyways, it's a win-win for the executives- put out content that establishes their new direction and communicate to the writing staff that they're not in control.

Fusebox's direct comments to the reporter, that their content is "subjective" and 'based on reality shows' is such an aggravating cop-out. The first is literally gaslighting their writers, saying they're reading too much into someone and it's a matter of perspective instead of just... something that they did. Like that story just IS sexist and biphobic, no wiggle room there. The second is just 'other people make bad content so we can too', which... oof. I see why the writers were mad enough to risk their jobs.

I've just got to wonder what's the financial benefit to not releasing S4. Like I totally get that they're shutting down the main LITG game to focus on Matchmaker which makes more money, but at this point we KNOW they have the S4 art assets because we've seen then in promos. They must have some if not most of the writing done, because this all went down close to the scheduled release of S4. Since Fusebox has been clear they're just money grabbing with no integrity for their story or their writers' intentions, why not just release S4? You're not going to /lose/ money- if there are art assets incomplete they can just reuse past assets or cut out scenes. It seems like it'd make financial sense to wring the last bit of gems/interest out of the LITG fandom that won't transition to matchmaker, then full pivot to matchmaker.

IDK anything about Britain's workplace protection laws (in the US it's at-will employment so retaliatory firing is a-okay as long as it's not on protected actions) but maybe in the UK it's not? Like you can't argue this is discriminatory, but it could be argued that the firing was a retaliation for the employees complaining to HR about inappropriate behavior, which is a protected action. But then again you could say that more than just the people who complained got fired so it's a moot point.

tl;dr it doesn't surprise me that Fusebox openly disrespected and antagonized their writers before the mass layoff, but it's super disappointing.

All the more reason I encourage yall to leave poor reviews on LITG/matchmaker, uninstall the games, and not give FB a penny more.

#litg #fusebox layoffs

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mrs-gucci · 4 years ago

Text

The Angel, Chapter One: Intel {Flip Zimmerman x biker!Reader}

Chapter One: “Intel”

series summary. The Angels are the newest biker gang in town, looking to dethrone the current high-riders, The Sharks, a notoriously violent gang. Fresh off the Klan case, Detective Flip Zimmerman and his new partner, Detective Ron Stallworth, are tasked with finding out more information about this new gang. After a passionate affair behind the bar with a mysterious woman calling herself Siren, Flip discovers that perhaps he’s a bit closer to this investigation than he originally counted on. Can he manage to use this newly-recruited ally to not only take down The Sharks before they strike again, but perhaps use it to benefit his lonesome personal life as well? Find out all this and more in “The Angel”!

chapter summary. Flip and Ron head over to Ace’s, a local bar in Colorado Springs to gather intel on The Angels, the newest biker gang in town. The young detective gets more than he bargained for when he meets and beds a mystery woman named Siren. Except ‘Siren’ ends up being the last person Flip expected to get intimate with and now, he’s entangled in this case, both professionally and personally.

table of contents. Intel (NSFW) * Saint Siren Turned Sharks Intercepted Epilogue

(a * indicates where you are in the table of contents)

author’s notes: hello, hello! saw a few bikers as I was driving on the highway, and my mind decided that I wanted to write a multi-chap fic about flip with a biker gang reader love interest. I love exploring the whole ‘flip with an independent/dom fem reader’ trope. so, here I am, designating an entire ten chapters to it.

**this multi-chap will have 5 parts total (4 ‘story’ chapters and an epilogue). due to the shorter number of chapters/parts, expect each to be longer, usually between 4-6k words.

word count: 6.1k

warnings: smut. heavy flirting. swearing. a generous amount of dirty talk. degradation. oral sex. reader smokes. use of the term ‘pig’ to describe the police.

(possible) tw’s: tobacco use (as is canon for flip’s character). public sex.

my taglist peeps: @frank-and-honey @shygirl268 (if you’d like to be added to my taglist, the link to the google form is HERE or on the top of my masterlist. I’m also willing to do a series-specific taglist if enough people are interested!)

---

“Alright, everyone. Rumor has it that there’s a new biker gang in town, called ‘The Angels’.” Chief Bridges says. “We gotta be on top of this, make sure they’re not the violent type.”

Flip rubs his chin, stroking his beard as he listens to the limited intel the department has on this new group.

“I’m putting Zimmerman and Stallworth on this one. You’re gonna hang out at some of the local watering holes, see if you can gather some more information on this new group.”

His eyebrows raise and he looks over at his partner. “C’mon Chief, don’t you think our talents could be used elsewhere? It’s just an intel mission, a beat cop could do it.”

“This is incredibly important, Zimmerman, and I only trust my top talent to do the job right.” Bridges crosses his arms, staring daggers at the dark-haired detective. “It’ll be a quick job, I’m sure. No more than a week’s time. Now, get over yourself and do the damn job.”

He huffs softly, nodding as he looks away. “Sure thing, Chief.”

“You’ll head to Ace’s tonight, since that’s where they’re said to hang the most. Meeting dismissed.”

Everyone piles out of the small conference room and back out into the bullpen. Flip lights a cigarette as he sits down at his desk and continues typing up a report from last week’s home invasion-robbery.

Ron sets the ‘Angels’ file down on his desk a few minutes later, sighing as he sits on the edge.

“What are you thinkin’ about this case, Flip?”

“I just wanna get it over with, rookie.” He leans back in his chair, shrugging and taking a drag. “I think it’s nothing to worry about, since they haven’t done anything yet, but the Chief wants us to check it out so I guess we have to.”

Ron nods.

“Well, we’ll head over to Ace’s after work. Hopefully we’ll find something and then we can get back to finding the Sharks.”

The Sharks were the biggest gang in Colorado Springs, spreading violence and dominating the northern part of town. But, all of them wore masks or helmets with masks, so no one’s been able to identify any of them.

“Mmhmm.”

Flip hums, stubbing the cigarette butt out in the mug on his desktop.

Before he knows it, the clock hand lands on 6, and everyone starts packing up. Flip gets up and puts his freshly-typed reports on the Chief’s desk before heading over to Ron’s desk.

“You ready to go, rookie?” He asks, hopping up on his partner’s desk. “I need a fuckin’ beer.”

Ron laughs, shaking his head as he stands up and both men walk back to get the mics and listening equipment together. Flip clips the lauve to his white undershirt, then re-buttons his signature buffalo plaid flannel.

They head out and hop into Flip’s pickup truck. He pulls away from the station and heads down the freeway towards Ace’s while Ron sets up all the audio equipment in the front seat.

The parking lot of Ace’s is almost full when the two detective’s pull in, and when Flip puts the truck in park, he immediately catches sight of a series of bikes parked at the front.

“They’re here.” He says in a low voice, nodding over to the bikes. “I’m gonna go check the jackets to make sure.”

Flip casually gets out from the cab and walks over. He sees one of the jackets draped over the seats with the words ‘The Angels’ and a logo on the back.

“Yup,” He says to Ron through the window of his truck. “It’s them.”

Ron’s eyes widen slightly. “Well then, get in there, partner. See what you can find.”

He chuckles, sticking a cigarette between his teeth and flicking his lighter on as he walks into the bar. His eyes scan the room, looking for biker-like characters, but his attention is quickly drawn to a certain young woman sitting at the bar.

She’s not much younger than himself, if Flip had to guess, and her subtle smile was infectious. Flip was absolutely taken with her, but he maintained his cool, approaching the bar.

“Hey, Earl.” He says, leaning against the bar. “Get me a Miller, would you?”

“Sure thing.” The bartender nods, giving Flip a handshake before heading over to the beer fridge.

You can’t help but look over at the handsome man that’s leaning against the bar. His eyes move over to you, and yours dart away quickly. He smirks, and when you look back over, he gives you a quick wink.

Your cheeks warm as you and the handsome stranger make eyes at each other. You’ve only been in town for a little while, and you’ve certainly never seen someone like him around before.

Once the bartender hands him the dark brown bottle, mister tall, dark and handsome casually makes his way over to where you’re seated. His presence is intimidating in itself, patrons suddenly hushing their voices as he stands behind you.

“Like what you see?” He asks in a low voice, smirking. You chuckle.

“Perhaps, although you don’t have much competition. The human eye is naturally drawn to the most appealing sight in the room and quite frankly, I’m so damn tired of looking at old white men. You were the reprieve.”

“Mmhmm.” Flip laughs, sitting down next to you at the bar, pulling out a cigarette and holding it between his teeth as he flicks his lighter on. “I’m impressed at your ability to spin such a convenient story for your obvious ogling.”

“Don’t act so innocent, prettyboy. Your eyes were not keeping to themselves either.”

You huff softly, taking a drink, the smoke from his latest drag clouding the space between you.

“Perhaps.” He retorts, taking a sip of his beer before looking over at you. “What’s your name?”

“Oh, I bet you’d like to know.” You hum softly. “You can call me Siren.”

His eyebrows furrow. “Siren, really? What, is that a nickname or something?”

“Something, yes.”

He’s intrigued by your mysterious and closed-off presence, your casual yet extremely confident demeanor. God, how he’d love to make you crumble on his cock, scream his name and beg him for release.

The thought has him stirring in his Levi’s.

“Phillip.” He says after a beat of silence, taking a drag off his cigarette. “In case you were wondering.”

Back in the truck, Ron shakes his head. “Did you really just use your own name, Zimmerman?”

Flip realizes his slight mistake, mentally kicking himself for not having an alias name already prepared.

Your finger swirls around the rim of the whisky glass. “I wasn’t.”

His eyebrows raise for a moment. He liked this game you’re playing with him, in fact, he loves it.

Finally, a woman giving him the thrill of the chase, making him work for it.

“Are you new in town, Miss Siren? I think I would remember seeing someone like you around here before.”

You nod silently. “Got here a few weeks ago. I’ve got some business to take care of, y’know, tie up some loose ends and such. Then I’ll be out of here.”

“What’s the rush in getting out of here? You don’t like it?”

Your lips curl up into a small smirk. “If I didn’t know any better, it almost sounds like you’re sad to hear that I’ll be leavin’ soon, prettyboy.”

He huffs softly in amusement, although his liking of your nickname for him is much greater than he anticipated or would ever admit aloud. “No, nothing like that. Just curious, is all.”

“I’m more of a city girl. All this fresh mountain air makes me sick.” You quip, smiling softly. “I like the polluted smell of New York much better.”

Flip laughs. “Oh, a city slicker. Yuck.”

Now it’s your turn to laugh. He’s kinda cool.

“What, Colorado Springs isn’t enough to convert you, or at least open your mind to the idea?”

He takes one final long drag before crushing the butt out in the ashtray on the bar.

Your eyes linger on his seated figure for a moment before turning your attention back directly in front of you.

“Well, now that I’ve met some more of the locals, I’m thinkin’ about it a little more.”

“Yeah?”

His voice lowers an octave as he leans in a bit closer, one of his large calloused hands now resting on your denim-covered thigh. You shiver slightly beneath his touch, the smell of cigarette smoke and freshly-chopped lumber intoxicating as it ensnares your senses.

“I think you’d like it out here, if you gave it a shot. We’ve got a few things New York can’t offer.”

You’re biting your lip as his husky voice rasps in your ear, his close proximity thickening the tension between you. You haven’t been this rattled by a man in a long time, and damn, it feels good.

“Oh really? And what is that, besides trees and grass, hm?”

His chuckle makes you squirm in your seat.

“Men. Real men. Not the city pussies that gel their hair up all fancy and can’t get a speck of dirt on themselves without throwin’ a damn fit. I mean...”

“Big,” He leans a bit closer. “Strong,” Closer. “Men.”

His lips are practically on top of your ear now, hot breath tickling your eardrum. He smirks. “And that’s all you’ve ever really wanted, isn’t it, slick? A big strong man to take care of you, protect you...satisfy your every whim and desire.”

You can barely see straight, vision blinded by the sheer lust rolling off his tongue. He’s so damn cocky, a real alpha male type, and you were eating it up. You couldn’t wait to break him.

“I’ll have to see it to believe it, prettyboy.” You say, voice unwavering as you turn to look him directly in the eyes with a small smirk tugging at the corner of your lip. “So why don’t you go ahead and prove it, hm? I’d like to see you try.”

His jaw clenches along with his fists, body turning lurching forward slightly to the edge of the chair, now fully facing your side.

“You’re walking an awfully thin line with that trap of yours, slick. I’d watch yourself, ‘cause the folks out here won’t hesitate, like city folk do, to make an example outta brats like you.”

Your eyes don’t leave his as you lean forward a bit, challenging him right back. “Lotta big talk from you this evening, prettyboy, but no action has come to match these claims. All bark, no bite, just like everyone else in this town.”

Flip is hard as a fucking rock, erection urgently pressing against the seam of his Levi’s, but he can’t even focus on that right now. You work him up like no one else ever has before, and he’s not about to let you just leave with the last word. No, he’ll have the last word tonight if it fucking kills him.

“You wanna see some fuckin’ bite, slick?” He growls, standing up and grabbing hold of your jaw, keeping a firm grip on it. “Talk to me like that again and see what happens.”

You grin deviously, wrapping your hand around his wrist, holding it as you remove your jaw from his grip.

“Heard it all before and nobody’s gotten me just yet. You’re no different, prettyboy.”

A twenty is thrown on the tabletop and then you’re leaving.

His blood is boiling, cock twitching with excitement as he lets you walk out of the bar, letting you think you can get away with this. Then, as soon as you’re outside, he strides across the room, flings the door open, and grabs your arm.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

He walks you to the side alley and pins you to the bricks, body caging yours in. You’re breathless and defenseless against him as his wiry whiskers tickle the side of your neck. His legs spread out and his large hands grip your hips as he scoops down, grinding his arousal against your ass with one long, rough stroke.

The denim-trapped bulge presses incessantly against your backside when he stills and lights up a smoke behind you, taking a brief drag, exhaling through his nose.

“Y’know, I work hard all damn day, seven days a week, bust my fuckin’ ass to get shit done.” He stands up again, kicking your ankle so your legs spread open. You gasp softly at his brazen moves, which only fuels his arousal. “I come here to kick back a few beers and have a few cigarettes, relax, unwind…”

His hands yank your jeans down your hips suddenly, then one curls around to cup your clothed mound, lifting up against you.

“But instead of that, now, I have to bring you out here and fuck some goddamn manners into your bratty cunt before I can go back in to finish my beer.”

You can barely formulate words at the moment, his every move dripping with pure power and unwavering dominance. You’re absolutely taken by him, but that doesn’t mean you won’t fulfill your own agenda.

Let him think he’s the boss, that he’s got you wrapped around his finger. It’ll only wreck him harder in the end.

The small jingle of his belt buckle being undone brings you back to reality, as well as his fingers swiping over your clit through the material of your panties. He pulls away for a moment, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans, yanking them down far enough so that he can pull his length out.

Luckily, due to his massive body size and the fact that you’re in a dark alleyway behind a dumpster, nothing is too exposed in case someone happens to come by and see the little show about to unfold.

Your panties are torn down your legs quickly and his digits swipe through your warmth. He smirks when he feels how wet you are.

“Now I can call you slick for two reasons.” He chuckles darkly into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “I knew you liked this, dirty girl. Bet you’ve been wet all night since I came into the bar.”

His fingers trace over your clit, pressure on and off with his lazy circles, and within seconds he’s got you gyrating against him. Then, suddenly, he pulls away and steps back, hand on your shoulder. He flips you around quickly so that you’re facing him, then forces you back against the wall, flicking his abandoned cigarette away onto the black pavement.

“Why’d you turn me around?” You ask nonchalantly.

He smears some of your fresh arousal onto the tip of his cock, moving it around over his girthy length while his fingers force themselves into your mouth, grabbing and pressing on your tongue.

“I decided that I wanna ruin your disobedient little mouth first. On your knees, use my boots as padding if you need.”

Your legs close and you cross them at the ankle, leaning back against the brick wall freely, arms crossed over your chest. His eyebrows raise and he pulls his fingers out of your mouth.

“Did you not hear me or something?” Flip asks, voice low. “On your damn knees, slick, or I’ll put you there myself.”

Silence. You don’t move a muscle, watching the frustration fester. He leans in suddenly, face real close.

“I’m gonna give you one last chance to do as I say before I force you down.”

Nothing.

His hand wraps in your prettily-done hair, holding the roots just above scalp-level, yanking harshly. He steps back a bit quickly as you cry out, hand on your shoulder, pushing you down as the shock and pain weakens your knees.

Your knees rest on his work boots and his impressive arousal is lip-level, now. He loosens his grip on your hair ever so slightly, still holding you firmly as he rubs his head over your cherry red lips.

“Don’t make me take this from you too, slick.” He warns.

You offer him a cheeky, close-mouthed smile, batting your eyelashes teasingly. He snarls, pulling your hair again, and when you yelp in pain, he pushes his hips forward. His cock forces itself into your mouth and your eyes widen, choking immediately at the sudden intrusion.

Flip’s head falls back and his eyes squeeze shut as your throat contracts around his length. He holds your head, keeping your mouth wrapped around him, and he gives you a quick look of concern, breaking character for a moment.

Once you give him a quick wink and small smile, indicating that everything’s okay, he draws back before pushing forward again. He establishes a consistent back-and-forth rhythm, grunting softly with each thrust of his hips. You’re taking him so well, better than anyone before. Your choking and gagging has essentially ceased within the first minute or so, the quickest recovery Flip has ever experienced.

Look, he knows he’s got a nice cock, there’s no denying it, especially when he’s got women chanting it in his ear on a weekly basis. It’s long and girthy with a slight upward curve that gives him the ability to hit the g-spot almost every time. Plus, he knows how to use it properly.

But, women often have trouble taking him or making him feel good with oral sex because he’s always concerned that he’s genuinely hurting them. A lot of women are also very intimidated by his size, which doesn’t help him in feeling okay about it.

You, however, didn’t say a word, give it a concerned look, or hesitate even a bit when he put you on your knees. You’re something else.

He groans, fucking your mouth even harder, hands on the sides of your head. Your eyes are watering and tears have already begun spilling down your cheeks, but you’re not complaining in the slightest. He looks so incredible like this, restrain and composure slipping as the pleasure begins to consume him.

You do your best to establish a bit of suction on his length, and when a guttural growl emerges from above you, you know you’ve done it. His hips lose their rhythm soon after, cock throbbing in your mouth, meaning he’s close.

He’s panting heavily, spine curling as he fucks your mouth harder, shuddering every once and a while from the sheer amounts of lust coursing through his veins.

Just before his release, he forces himself to pull away, a strangled groan of agony rumbling through his chest as his shaft bobs angrily at the lost orgasm.

“Christ!”

You catch your breath for a moment, but that moment is brief because within thirty seconds, he’s got his hand wrapped around your jaw.

“S-S…” He takes a second to compose himself. “Stand up, turn around, take your panties off and spread your fucking legs.”

This time, much to his surprise, you obey, getting into position with little resistance. He smirks, giving your ass a quick swat before rubbing his head through your folds.

“Mmm, shit, you got wetter just from having your face fucked?”

His chin digs into your shoulder as he lines himself up with your entrance. He pushes in quickly with a long, low groan, then settles inside of you to allow for an adjustment period.

Your eyes go wide and you whimper, walls stretching out to accommodate the large intrusion. Soon, you move your hips a bit, looking over your shoulder.

“You can m-move.”

Flip nods, drawing back before pressing his hips forward again, sighing through his nose as he picks up a steady thrusting rhythm.

“Fuck you’ve got a good little cunt, wrapped around me so goddamn tight.” He growls in your ear, mouth lazily kissing and nipping at your neck.

The burn of being stretched out subsides soon after he begins, replaced with copious amounts of pleasure, jaw slacked as your body jolts back and forth with each powerful movement.

“I can feel you clenching around me, slut...I know you like this. I wanna hear you fucking admit it.” He breathes. “Tell me how good I’m making you--fuck--feel. Tell me how much better my cock feels fucking you than any--goddamnit--other f-fuckin’ city slicker’s cock.”

When he doesn’t get a response, his pace suddenly quickens a bit and one of his hands comes up to wrap around your throat, squeezing experimentally. “Say it, slick, admit it!”

“Y-You, you feel...okay.”

You smirk, eyes squeezing shut when he brushes against a particularly sensitive spot inside you.

Flip huffs. “You’re a fucking brat--god fucking damnit.”

He snarls, hand closing tighter around your neck, lips right up against your ear.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ destroy you, slick. I’m gonna fuck your tight cunt so hard and stuff you so fucking full of my cum, make it run down your fucking thighs when you go home. You’re gonna have to walk into your fuckin’ house with my cum leaking out of you like the dirty slut you are.”

A loud whine comes from your lips, goosebumps spreading like wildfire over your skin at his words. You’re close already, the anticipation and sensations too much to hold off much longer.

“I know you’re lying, slick, I know you love this fucking cock, and I know you’re close. Say it, say it and I’ll make you cum so fucking hard you can’t see straight for the rest of the night.”

He growls into your ear, panting heavily.

“All you gotta do is--shit--say it and I’ll give you what you want, what we both know you want.”

Your walls clench and pulse around his shaft, preparing for your approaching orgasm. But, even though the temptation is sweet, you hold out.

“Eh, I’ve h-had better. You’re really--oh--not t-that big, prettyboy.”

“Fuck!”

His reaction is exactly what you were looking for, hips thrusting impossibly quick as his hands grab your wrists and pin your hands behind your back. Part of him liked this, being called ‘small’ and being taunted, although he’d never admit it to anyone.

“It’s your fucking loss, slick.”

“Oh, is it?” You smirk, adjusting your hips subtly until you find the right spot, crying out softly as you teeter on the edge of orgasm. “I don’t t-think so--fuck!”

“NO! Goddamnit, f-fuck...NO!” He tries to stop your climax, but it’s too late, you’re already there.

“Y-Yes, fuck...yes!”

You’re trembling as you ride out your intense high, his hips pumping you into a delicious overstimulation.

Your release gushes out around him and Flip feels his own climax rapidly approaching, hips starting to lose their rhythm.

Flip’s absolutely pissed that you made yourself cum, allowing his frustration to fuel his thrusts. His teeth sink into the muscle on the curve of your neck, drilling into you as hard as he can manage.

“Brat!”

He snarls against your skin.

“You’re a fucking d-dirty, filthy--yeah, so fuckin’ tight--naughty brat! O-Oh fuck, shit, gonna--fuck goddamnit--cum…”

“Are you gonna cum? Fill me up, prettyboy?”

You clench around him one more time, bringing him over the edge.

“Oh f-fuck, yes, gonna--unnhh!”

Being fully prepared to bury his load deep inside you, fill you up, it took him by great surprise when you suddenly pulled him out of you. His eyes fly open and a choked cry leaves his lips.

“FUCK, N-NO!”

He roars, load erupting out onto the bricks and alleyway pavement instead of inside you. His hips rut forward instinctively as he rides out his high, groaning against your skin.

You smirk, slipping out from beneath his grip, pulling your panties back up over your hips. He’s still panting and recovering from his climax, hands spread on the cool brick of the building, eyes catching sight of his seed dripping down the wall as he redresses.

Before you walk away, you run a hand through his silky black mane. You give it a gentle tug, earning a low growl from the handsome man.

“Told ya, no one’s gotten me yet and no one ever will.” You pat his cheek, giving him a soft smile. “Have a good rest of your night, prettyboy.”

You’re quickly overtaken, within the first few steps of walking back towards the front entrance, by a large set of hands. Flip turns you around in his arms and crashes his lips on yours, pulling you close to him.

At first, you’re taken by surprise, but that lasts for only a few seconds before you melt into his touch, melding your lips with his. He pulls away a minute later, a big smug smirk stretched across his face.

“Good night, slick.”

He walks back towards the side door, lighting a cigarette on his way, leaving you frozen in suspension for a moment. Every inch of your skin, every fiber of your being, is buzzing. You find yourself unable to wipe the small smile off your face as you walk back towards the front of the bar.

You look through the window of the bar as you slip your leather jacket on, then your helmet before swinging your leg over your bike. The engine rumbles, ground quaking beneath it as you pull out of the parking lot and onto the freeway, wind whipping around your body as you disappear into the cool Colorado night.

Flip is drunk on you as he pays for his drinks and stubs his cigarette out in the plastic ashtray on the bar. The damn bastard’s essentially grinning and giggling with joy as he walks back out to his truck, or at least ‘grinning and giggling’ by Flip’s standards, which pretty much just means a small smile.

It’s quickly wiped from his face when he sees Ron in the passenger seat. He hadn’t even thought about the fact that Ron was listening the whole time, and he can only hope that his partner took the headphones off before anything too explicit happened.

He hops up into the cab and immediately, Ron begins chuckling to himself.

“Oh, shut up.”

He says, frowning as he backs out of the parking lot.

“I hope you took the headphones off.”

“So, did you find out anything about The Angels?”

Ron asks, snickering.

“Or did you focus on learning more about the inside of her mouth?”

Flip growls under his breath, rolling his eyes.

“Can it, rookie. We’ll go back tomorrow. And, for the record, I cased the joint when I walked in, and there were no bikers in sight. No one that seemed the type, y’know?”

“Well, the bikes were there. They had to be there, right?”

His jaw clenches, kicking himself for losing focus. Although, he doesn’t exactly regret anything he did with you, he just wishes he had worked the case a bit beforehand.

“They should’ve been there, but I’m telling you, there was no one.”

Ron gives him a look and Flip shakes his head.

“Look, I know what it looks like, but I’m serious. I cased the joint when I went in, and there was no one even close to the basic look of a biker gang.”

His partner sighs.

“I know, and I trust you, Zimmerman. We’ll go back tomorrow, like you said. We should go a bit earlier, maybe try and catch these bikers coming to the bar.”

“Agreed.”

Flip nods as he pulls back into the station, sighing when he puts the truck in park.

“Alright, let’s go report to the Chief.”

The Next Day

It’s another long ass day at the station, although there was a bit of excitement when the Chief went out to his squad car and found the window busted out.

Everyone chuckled to themselves as he flipped his shit, almost as if he’d temporarily forgotten that he was a police chief.

Flip and Ron went out to lunch at the local diner, discussing the ‘Angels’ case, and of course Flip’s back-alley hookup last night, much to the detective’s dismay.

He just resorted to sucking down as many cigarettes as he could while Ron fired off questions, hoping the nicotine buzz would get him through this all quicker. It didn’t.

Finally, with the Chief’s approval, Ron and Flip head out at five to Ace’s in hopes of spotting The Angels as they come to the bar.

Luckily, when they reach the bar, there are no motorcycles in sight. Flip backs the truck into a spot facing where the motorcycles were last night, putting it in park before lighting up a smoke. He and Ron pass the time with some casual chit-chat before the telltale rumble of motorcycle engines.

The first bike comes into view, the leader no doubt, and slowly rolls up to the front of the bar, foot planting on the pavement. There’s something so oddly familiar about this leader to Flip, the way they move, their demeanor in general, but he thinks little of it, determined to actually focus on the case this time.

Once the whole gang has pulled up, Flip grabs his notepad and a pencil, ready to write down the names on their jackets while Ron pulls out his camera. The bikers' engines all shut off almost simultaneously, pavement settling back into the dirt as they all dismount their bikes.

Flip looks at all the names on their jackets, each beginning with ‘Saint’, writing all five of them down before pausing when he reaches the leader’s jacket. It read ‘Saint Siren’, glitter-infused stitching catching in the evening sunset.

No, it can’t be.

Saint Siren reaches up to pull their helmet off, and when they do, Flip is stunned into utter and total silence. It’s you...you’re Saint Siren.

You're the leader of ‘The Angels’.

Ron’s snapping a bunch of pictures as the rest of the gang takes their helmets off, revealing the women beneath each. Both detectives were surprised to see that ‘The Angels’ were all women, considering the general ‘man-ness’ of biker gangs.

Your hair flutters in the gentle breeze as you hang your helmet on the handlebar of your bike, reaching into your jacket pocket for a cigarette and lighter, hand shielding the flame from the gentle breeze.

“Zimmerman?”

Flip faintly hears his partner say, but he doesn’t process it, too focused on the reality hitting.

“Zimmerman!” Ron says, shaking his partner’s arm.

“What’s the matter with you?”

His eyes dart over to Ron, a serious expression etched on his face.

“That’s her. That’s the girl from last night.”

His eyes widen in disbelief. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m fuckin’ sure!” He snarls. “I only spent all night with her. I’m not that shallow, rookie.”

Ron stifles a laugh. “Uh huh. Well, now we understand why no one could ever figure out who this gang was. No one would ever suspect women to be bikers, much less in a biker gang.”

Your jacket is taken off and draped neatly over the seat of your bike, and Flip quickly tosses his notebook on the dash, clipping the lauve to his undershirt with a sense of urgency. His face is steadily turning redder the more he thinks about it, and Ron can almost see the smoke coming from his ears. He’d be whistling like a damn tea kettle if that were true.

“What are you gonna do when you get in there? Remember what the Chief wants, intel only.”

Flip huffs, buttoning his flannel back up before flicking on the microphone set on the front seat, tapping the top of the machine. “I know how to do my damn job, I know what Chief said. Just be sure to listen and write the important stuff down.”

He hops down, the heels of his work boots reverberating off the pavement as he walks, more like storms, into the bar.

Earl, the bartender, greets him, but he’s already closing in on you. He doesn’t even hesitate, just walking right up to the table you’re sitting at and putting his hand on the top.

“Can I speak with you a minute?” He says in the calmest voice he can muster at this point, staring daggers at you, teeth gritted. “Please?”

All the girls look up at him, then back over at you, awaiting your answer. You stub out the cigarette between your lips before gesturing for Gladys to scoot out of the booth. She does, and you slide out, standing in front of the familiar man.

“Lead the way, Flip.”

He spins around on his heel, then stops, stomach dropping. How do you know that name?

You giggle to yourself as you walk by and out to the alley. He’s hot on your tail, slamming the door shut behind him, bounding down the stairs.

“I figured it out pretty quickly.” You say, twirling your hair as you lean back against the wall, arms crossed in front of you. “After I saw the mic clipped to your undershirt last night. Looked through the yellow pages this morning and found the contact information for one Detective Phillip Zimmerman of the Colorado Springs Police Department. There’s only one other man by the name of Phillip living in this town, and he’s the guy down at the gas station.”

“Could’ve been a fake name.”

Your lips curl up into a smirk. “Yeah, coulda been a fake name, I guess. But I saw the way you reacted when you said it, looked like you wanted to kick yourself in the nutsack. The mic on your shirt tied it all together, and then when I did some surveillance on the station, I saw you.”

Flip isn’t sure if he’s more nervous or impressed by your ability to observe and fact-find.

“I’m not the only one that hid my true identity last night, Saint Siren. Nor are you the only one that did surveillance today.” He growls, standing in front of you. “You’re one of the ‘Angels’, the leader, in fact.”

Your face is unchanging, still wearing a neutral expression, before a small smirk tugs at your lips.

“Congratulations, Detective. I’m a little surprised you didn’t put two-and-two together last night when you read the name on my jacket.”

His eyes widen, which makes you laugh. Had your name really been on the jacket that he’d seen, and he just missed it?

“Saw you not so discreetly snooping around the bikes before you came in last night. You ought to check your surroundings a little more thoroughly before ‘casually’ sauntering by the bikes and leaning over to read the jackets...someone might see you.”

You laugh quietly, shoving your hands into your jean pockets.

He’s pissed, you can tell, but there’s also a sense of respect buried deep within his gaze, and perhaps there’s even a bit of desire mixed in, too.

“I...you’re…”

Suddenly, an idea pops into his head, and the rage suddenly melts away. He could use this to his advantage.

“Join me.”

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion as you look up at him. “You’re kidding.”

“No, I’m not. Think about it, it’s beneficial for both of us. You want to knock the Sharks on their asses and kick ‘em outta town, and I want to stop them from taking over the whole town. We both get what we want.”

You just burst out into laughter. “You’re a funny guy, Detective, thinking I’d ever even consider becoming an informant. Ha! Sure, I hate the Sharks and I wanna kick ‘em out, but I don’t need the pig’s help for that.”

His jaw clenches.

“You’re trying to turn her now, Zimmerman? What the hell are you thinking? INTEL, Zimmerman, we’re here for ANGELS INTEL, not the Sharks.”

He shakes off his partner’s words, staring deep into your eyes.

“You know this is a good idea, I know you do, slick. All we need are some names. It’ll be quick work, and in return, we’ll help you get rid of them and stay off your ass after they’re gone, as long as you don’t start or engage in any violent altercations.”

“Man, you gotta stop. You can’t make promises like that without the Chief’s approval. C’mon, Zimmerman, get outta there!”

“I’m not falling for that bullshit, and I’m not becoming a pig, even if it’s only for a few weeks.” You say, pushing off the wall and standing up straight. “G’night, Detective.”

Flip quickly grabs you before you can even take a step back towards the door, holding your arms as he steps up behind you.

“I never say things I don’t mean, and I never make promises I can’t keep, slick.”

He grabs one of his business cards out from his wallet, teasingly sliding it in your back pocket, giving your ass a quick squeeze. “In case you change your mind.”

Your skin has erupted in goosebumps as you walk back into the bar, overly conscious of the business card tucked into your back pocket, gently poking your bottom with each stride.

As you sit with your crew, drinking and chatting the night away, you can’t stop thinking about this proposal.

The thought of being an informant scares you. The thought of turning on the Sharks scares you.

What scares you the most, though?

You’re ready to get to work.

#adam driver #adam driver smut #adam driver character #flip zimmerman #flip zimmerman smut #flip zimmerman x reader #flip zimmerman x you #flip zimmerman x reader smut #tw: tobacco #tw: tobacco use #tw public sex #adcu #adcu writer #mrs-gucci #mrs-gucci requests #mrs-gucci writes flip zimmerman #adcu community #adcu fanfic

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mochegato · 4 years ago

Text

Pixie Spy

Chapter 6

Chapter 1 Chapter 5

“What the fuck is this bullshit! Are you sure?” Chat Noir exclaimed loudly from his perch across the street from the hotel.

“Just telling you what I see, dude. There’s no Nightwing in that room.” Carapace reported with very little sympathy from his position across the street from the hotel on the other side from Ladybug and Chat Noir. “And I’m only seeing four heat signatures so I don’t think I’m just missing him. It looks like the big Bat, the little bat, and the middle bats. Basically, all the bats that were in town except Nightwing.”

“Wow! That is totally like a fuck you directly to Chat.” Rena Rouge laughed, turning to face toward Chat despite not having a direct line of sight to him.

“That matches with what the front desk staff said.” Bee confirmed as she examined her nails. The roof she was on, a few blocks from the hotel in a different direction, had very little light to help with the examination, but she was determined not to let such little details prevent her from making sure she looked immaculate. She had standards damn it. “They only saw four men checking in.”

“And you’re just telling us this now why?” Rena Rouge inquired exasperated. Even with the distance between her position a few blocks away in a separate direction from everyone else, the roll of her eyes could be felt by everyone.

“Uh, because they just reported it? Plus, there is no way to know if that was accurate. They could have been trying to sneak the other one in to surprise us.” Bee responded as though anyone who didn’t understand that without her saying it was an utter idiot.

“Sorry, Chaton. Guess there’s no kissing tonight for you.” Ladybug smirked at him.

Chat looked at her with a pout trying to hide the amused glint in his eyes. “And what about your man? How are you planning on kissing him anyway? Even once you get past that atrocity of a mask, he’s like two of you on top of each other.”

“I am not that much shorter than him!” Ladybug declared indignantly, pouting her lips at him.

“He’s not too far off. That man is huge and you are… compact.” Rena tried to offer kindly but the sardonic grin on her face was evident in her voice.

“Sounds like that puts her at the perfect height to make him really happy.” Bee smirked wickedly.

“Bee!! That is absolutely not something I want to discuss right now… or ever. We are never having that conversation.” Ladybug exclaimed trying to cool down her burning cheeks. She had a hard enough time focusing when just thinking about caressing his face or running her fingers through his hair or… or kissing his perfect, luscious, inviting lips… Where were they again? “Can we please focus on the issue at hand before they scatter and announce their presence to Hawkmoth?” She wasn’t sure if she was talking more to the team or to herself.

“Just trying to help,” Bee shrugged as though everyone listening didn’t know that was a complete lie.

“Right… so the first order of business before we attack them is you reacting to that mask, right?” Chat asked with a wide childlike grin, already anticipating the carnage.

“We’re not going to attack them. We are going to politely inform them that their services are not required and kindly return to their own territory.” Ladybug corrected him, trying to get the team to focus on the mission.

“Yeah, yeah, ‘fuck off’ in the politest terms possible.” Chat dismissed her comment.

“No need to be polite about it,” Bee cut in.

“But, first order of business, right?” Chat continued barely restraining himself from bouncing back and forth on his toes.

“Can we focus on the task at hand, please?” Ladybug muttered. “I want to be ready to stop them before Hawkmoth sees the Batfamily are in Paris and sends akumas for all of them.”

“So how are you planning on handling this? Good cop, bad cop?” Rena asked.

“How about strict but polite cops?” Ladybug offered instead.

“Boo,” Carapace said over the coms.

“No,” Chat responded quickly and a bit louder than necessary. “I want to be bad cop. They left Nightwing at home. They deserve it.”

“You just want an excuse to be a vindictive dick to someone.” Ladybug rolled her eyes at him.

“And?” Chat asked flatly.

“And we are fucking professionals and we will act like it.” She said. Chat gave her kitty eyes. She grunted and rolled her eyes, “Damn it. Fine. Bad cop, disappointed in your life choices cop. But they haven’t done anything to deserve us being assholes to them yet so reign it in unless things get hostile.”

“No, don’t reign it in. They need to know they are not welcome here.” Bee advised sharply.

“We can make that clear without creating enemies. If we push too hard, they won’t back off, they’ll push back and although we can take them, I really do not want to deal with the international fallout of permanently injuring the bats.”

“You know, you wouldn’t have to permanently injure them.” Carapace pointed out.

“No, no, I’m going to permanently injure them.” Ladybug said overdramatically. She turned toward the hotel and let out a sigh. “I’m trying to be strategic with this. So far, what they know of us is we worked with Constantine and we didn’t call them in to help. That and breaking into their Batcave are the only things they know about us. That’s it. It is natural to want more information. I’m going to give them the benefit of the doubt. They might be assholes but I try not to be.”

“Since when?” Rena snarked.

“Fuck you,” Ladybug quipped back.

“Ugh, fine, but they are going to disguise their intentions behind innocuous questions and innuendos. Don’t hold back once they go there. Call that shit out. They are trying to get enough information so they can take over and we are well aware. They’re not that smart and we’re not that dumb. Just because we’re pretty doesn’t mean we’re stupid. They need to know it is in Paris’ best interests if they leave and quickly.” Bee stated flatly.

“Aww. You think we’re pretty?” Rena responded batting her eyes unseen.

“No, but I’m pretty enough to bring up the average,” Bee responded with a smirk.

Before a snark war could start, Ladybug interceded. “I’m aware Bee. I won’t say anything more than is available on the Ladyblog.”

“Oh damn!” Carapace swore over the coms. They could hear the wince in his voice. “That had to hurt.”

“What happened?” Ladybug demanded settling into a defensive posture.

“Your man just proved Edna Mode right using Robin as an example.” Carapace chuckled.

“Trust issues.” Bee said like a gameshow host introducing a prize.

Ladybug grimaced thinking about Robin’s costume. “Speaking of flashy and attention seeking, Rena, have you figured out what your distraction is going to be?”

“I have a few ideas. Any requests? You want big and flashy or subtle? Maybe mess with their heads and make them paranoid?”

“I want flashy. You wouldn’t do it with that last akuma. Give me this. Plus Batman is known for his dramatic entrances, but he’s on our turf now and I want to show them what dramatic really means.” Chat pouted at Ladybug’s unimpressed look.

“You were saying something about professionalism, Bug?” Bee’s voice came back.

“Are you suggesting petty grudges aren’t professional?” Carapace responded. “Because, I’m pretty sure that is the business model for most major companies.”

Ladybug lowered her head and shook it letting out a long, strained breath before she reacted, “You heard the man, Rena.”

“Flashy with a hint of fuck you, it is.” Rena confirmed with a nod.

“Movement in the room. It looks like they’re making their move.” Carapace reported.

Ladybug straightened immediately. The news rippled through the team like a flipped switch. Their relaxed postures and jovial comments were left behind in favor of vigilance. “Okay team, it’s starting. Carapace get into position. Rena, you got the distraction ready?”

“Know exactly what to do, Ladybug.” Rena confirmed.

“Perfect. Everybody in position?” Ladybug asked.

Affirmatives rang out from the three. “And remember LB, this isn’t about them, it’s about Paris. They don’t need to be happy with the results, they just need to leave.” Chat reminded her.

“Right. Understood.” She looked down and took a deep breath bracing herself for what was about to come. She rolled her shoulders back and stretched her head from side to side. She knew she could make them leave easily but she needed to do more than that. She needed to make them understand why they needed to stay away and agree to do so. Barring understanding, she needed to make them fear coming back, which was not a direction she wanted to go, which meant she really needed to make them listen. All while Jason was there, looking at her.

She was not looking forward to seeing him again. No, that was a lie. She was very much looking forward to seeing him again, just not today, not like this. She didn’t want to have to manipulate him. She didn’t want to lie to him. That’s how they got in this situation in the first place, because she had the stupid, overwhelming urge to be honest with him, to let him in. But she wasn’t in a place where she got to do that. Letting people in meant making them a part of the fight. It made them vulnerable and wrecked their lives. She tried to contain the damage to mainly her and a bit to Adrien, but everyone who joined suffered. And the thought of causing him that much pain or having to fight an akumatized Jason…

Ladybug looked back up toward the roof across the street with a renewed determination, her gaze steely and her lips set. She waited until the last of the Bats had arrived on the roof before whispering into the coms, “Rena, you’re on.”

<><><><><>

Red Hood landed on the roof last, bringing up the rear for the group. He looked out over the city willing himself to feel which direction he should go to find his Pixie Pop. He was focused intently on nothing in particular when he felt someone slap his arm. He whipped his head around to see Red Robin staring across the roof dumbfounded. He followed his line of sight and saw an odd looking fox sitting next to some pots on the other side of the roof. After a few moments Red Robin finally got his voice back and decided to use it to make a brilliantly insightful observation. “There’s a fox… on the roof.”

“How did a fox get up here? What kind of irresponsible hotel is this?” Robin demanded.

The fox hissed at him like she was personally insulted and ran toward them, rounding the edge of the pool so closely, she just barely missed falling in. Robin’s breath caught and he automatically reached in the direction of the fox, ready to rescue her should she fall into the pool. The fox continued on as though she hadn’t almost fallen in the water, increasing her speed as she ran between Robin and Red Robin toward the edge of the roof. Robin whirled around and jutted forward to grab the fox before she got hurt or fell off the roof. But the fox seemed to have other ideas, speeding up even faster and racing toward the edge of the roof before jumping off.

Robin ran to the edge to see if the fox might have landed on a balcony, but fell back, landing hard on the ground when a cloud of bats flew up into the sky at a breakneck speed from the same spot the fox had jumped. Red Robin flinched back from the bats’ sudden appearance but Batman just narrowed his eyes at them. Red Hood cocked his head to the side watching the bat-like things flying around above them before taking off away from the hotel. “What the actual fucking fuck was that!” Red Hood exclaimed.

Ladybug and Chat landed on the roof behind the bats and watched them for a few moments. They turned to each other with smug smiles. No matter what else happened that night, they were always going to remember the chaos they had caused the bats. They were counting that as their first win. They turned back toward the bats and schooled their expressions. Ladybug gave them a few moments to notice them before she stage whispered to Chat, “How long do you think it will take them to notice us?”

“Super unimpressed right now.” Chat shook his head in disappointment, leaning casually on his baton.

The bats whipped around in unison. Batman and Robin refused to show the shock they felt. Instead, Batman stared intently at them while Robin glared at them. Red Robin looked back and forth between the Parisian heroes and the space where the bats had been flying, his face scrunching in confusion as if trying to figure something out. Red Hood however focused entirely on Ladybug, squinting at her as if trying to piece something together that refused to fit, not that anyone could see it under the mask.

Ladybug and Chat jumped down off the ledge but stayed on their side of the roof, allowing the pool to mark the division between the two groups, acting as a buffer between them, easy enough to get around should they need to, but demarcating the sides. Ladybug looked between the vigilantes, her gaze lingering a bit longer than it should on Red Hood. That hurt more than she expected, to see him but not talk to him, not really, not be able to acknowledge him or see what he was thinking. Because he couldn’t know it was her and even if he did, he couldn’t stay. She moved her gaze back to Batman with a strained smile, trying to calm her erratic heart. “Hello. Welcome to Paris. My name is Ladybug. This is Chat Noir.” Ladybug introduced them politely but with an edge to her voice.

“Is there anything we can help you with before you leave?” Chat asked innocently. Ladybug pressed her lips together in annoyance but kept her eyes on the bats. Not as bad as it could be.

“Good evening Ladybug, Chat Noir. I’m Batman. This is Robin, Red Robin, and Red Hood. We would like to discuss the situation here in Paris with you.”

“You’re missing your whole team. Where’s the other one?” Chat asked nonchalantly. Ladybug fought rolling her eyes. To be fair, Chat had warned her he was going to be a petty dick, she just was expecting a bit more of a focused dickishness. They were going up against Batman. They needed to focus, to project confidence and control.

“Really, dude?” Carapace asked through the coms.

“Where’s your other one? Where is the one that makes portals?” Red Hood asked not even attempting to mask the interest in his voice, and that hurt even more.

“And breaks into secret bases?” Red Robin grumbled loudly.

“She has been exposed thanks to you, Redwood. And the rule of the miraculous is once your identity is exposed you can no longer wield a miraculous.” Ladybug responded. It wasn’t a lie, not exactly. It was longstanding rule. It was heavily ignored, but it was still the rule. It was the jaywalking of the miraculous rules; there but nobody ever acknowledged it unless the situation was really dangerous. She lowered her eyes in guilt. He hadn’t made her tell him. She had done that. It wasn’t his fault she had divulged their secret. She weighed letting him believe it was his fault so he would back off versus the guilt he would carry with him. She couldn’t let him carry that with him because of her. “She made her choice.”

“So you just, what? Kicked her to the curb?” Red Hood demanded indignant on behalf of the woman whose name he didn’t even know. How dare they use her and throw her away like that! She had risked going into a potential enemy’s base for them and they just throw her out like she was nothing. She lifted her eyes to him and studied him closer. His face was obscured tragically but his body was tense, angry. Not a good condition for Paris.

“Forget about the scapegrace.” Robin growled breaking their link. “Let’s get this over with.”

Red Hood glared at him but Ladybug cocked her head to the side and narrowed her eyes in concentration, studying Robin, looking for something in his face. When she didn’t see what she was looking for, she spoke up, “Chat, you speak English better than I do, was that an insult? That sounded like an insult, but I can’t tell.” Chat shrugged and gave her a non-committal grunt. She hummed in response and flashed an overly wide model smile Adrien used on the red carpet with overly pushy reporters, “I’m going to take that a compliment. Thank you for your kind words. I will let her know you send your well wishes and admiration.”

Robin growled at her. Red Robin looked down to hide the smirk that tried to push through and break his serious expression. Looking back up at the heroes, he started firing off his questions to hide his smile, “So she was using a miraculous. Which one was she using? Are you using a miraculous? Is that what your villain is using as well? How many miraculous are in play right now? How many do you have? How did you know we were here?”

“That’s a lot of questions for people who aren’t welcome here and won’t be here much longer.” Chat answered sharply.

“Chat…” Ladybug said warningly. “Polite, remember?”

“That was polite.” Chat objected. She gave him a warning look. “This is our territory they invaded and our villain they were just about to offer their services to.”

“Now you guys are concerned about boundaries?” Red Robin deadpanned.

“We came here to find out more about the situation here.” Batman stated loudly bringing the attention back to him. “We were only recently made aware there was a situation and we would like to learn more about what is going on.”

“I’m sure you would, gothboy,” Bee growled over the coms.

Ladybug looked down to hide her smile. Getting her focus back, she asked, “And you needed almost your entire team to ask a few questions?”

“We weren’t sure of your receptiveness to visitors. We wanted to be able to protect ourselves in case you attacked.” Batman stated logically.

“Reasonable.” She nodded absentmindedly. “Better to be prepared than caught unaware. Although, it’s cute that you think you would stand a chance even with your whole team.” Ladybug said confidently. She wasn’t inviting a discussion on this and she wasn’t threatening them. She was stating a fact, one they should be aware of. Okay, maybe she was a bit more condescending than she had to be. But the bats had to know, they were not the power players in this group. The miraculous team were.

“You presumptuous, little feist. You have no idea what we are capable of, what we’ve done.” Robin growled. Batman’s hand on his shoulder cut his lecture short.

“Oh Sweetie, we are well aware of what you are capable, of what you have done.” She responded lowly, fixing him with a dark glare that had Robin faltering and Red Robin gulping. “It’s why we’ve made a point of keeping you away from this situation. You are the ones who don’t know of what we are capable.” A thunderclap sounded in the sky as though to accentuate her point.

Chat pursed his lips so hard to keep himself from laughing that the pink could no longer be seen. He was going to buy a drink for Alya after that.

A tense silence fell over the rooftop until Batman finally broke the tension. “You are correct, we do not know what you are capable of or what the nature of the situation here is. Could you give us a bit more information? We just want to see if there is anything we could do to help.”

“And not to take over because you think you can do better?” Ladybug asked with a raised brow.

“Clearly we could do better. You’ve been fighting the same villain for 5 years.” Robin scoffed at them.

“Robin!” Batman admonished him.

“Ignore him. He’s being a jealous little prick. He is physically incapable of being anything else.” Red Hood implored.

“When’s the last time you fought half a million enemies at the same time, little one? And defeated all of them?” Ladybug asked throwing out the comment on his age and size knowing he would take it as a slight. “Because that was last week for us. One million was the week before. Not particularly impressive, I know, but it’s been a slow month.”

“Also, how’s the Penguin doing? You’ve been fighting him for over a decade now, right? You can’t even stop a fucking flightless, cold water bird.” Chat scoffed.

“You realize he isn’t an actual bird, right?” Red Robin asked wryly.

“Wait, What!? I have been sorely misinformed.” Chat gasped dramatically and brought his hand to his chest. “I completely take it back. It’s much less unimpressive that you’ve been fighting with billions of dollars of support and technology against a single person with no super powers for a decade.” He said dryly.

“Honestly would have been more impressive if it had been an actual bird. Significantly cooler too.” Carapace over the coms.

“We’re not here to fight.” Batman said calmly.

“Could have fooled me,” Chat grumbled.

“Probably, doesn’t seem like it’s too hard to do.” Robin scoffed.

“Oh, that little… next time I’m coming too. Give me just 5 minutes with that little gremlin.” Bee growled through the coms.

Ladybug crooked her head to the side and narrowed her eyes, “Yeah, non-hostile is definitely the vibe we’re getting from you.”

Red Hood held out his hands trying to placate them, “We found out about the situation from the other woman and we want to help. She said things were bad. She said you needed help.”

“That seems highly unlikely,” Carapace scoffed.

“What the hell did you say back there?” Rena asked skeptically.

“She told you we needed help? She said she wanted you to intervene, Redwood?” Ladybug questioned him incredulity in her voice.

Red Hood furrowed his brows and huffed, “Red Hood.”

“What?”

“It’s Red Hood, not Red Wood.”

She furrowed her brows in confusion, “I meant Redwood like the tree? You know, the… the tree…” she motioned indicating something tall. “Is that not the word for those really big trees in America? Redwoods?” She asked Chat uncertain.

Chat looked at her wide-eyed, “Did you… did you make his name into a pun?”

She looked back at him horrified, “No! Why would you… oh, yeah, I see it now. Shit.” She looked over to Chat with desperation in her eyes. “That nickname never happened. We all forget that happened and we never mention it again.”

“No, no. That’s the only way we are referring to him from now on. I’m spreading the word.” Chat grinned at her.

“Word is spread, dude.” Carapace responded back. “He is now dubbed Red Wood the Dancer.”

“How’s that professionalism looking right about now, Bug?” Bee asked with amusement clear in her voice.

“I hate you,” the ‘all’ went unspoken but everyone on her team heard it.

“You know I’m still here, right?” Red Hood spoke up.

“Yeah, but your opinion of what we call you doesn’t matter.” Chat shrugged.

Ladybug let out a long suffering sigh, looking back to Red Hood to continue the conversation. She immediately squeezed her eyes shut, “And could you not wear that thing while you are talking. It’s extremely distracting. Who designed that for you and what dishonor did you inflict upon them and their ancestors to cause them to punish you with it, and thereby the rest of us?”

“I… this helmet serves a purpose.” Red Hood defended himself.

“To terrorize your opponents?” She asked skeptically.

“That’s part of it.” Red Hood confirmed.

“Mission accomplished, but not the way you intended, I think.” She said narrowing her eyes at him. “Seriously, it’s like looking at an elementary school play about Hellboy.”

Red Hood was left gaping, grasping for words. “Disappointed. You could have done better, Dudette.” Carapace said through the coms.

“I expect a follow up to that next time you see him,” Rena added.

“I changed my mind. I think I’m warming up to them.” Red Robin grinned.

Red Hood glared at Red Robin, “Back to the original question, no. She said Constantine was helping. She said people were suffering, children were suffering. I want to help end that. We just want to help.”

Robin shot a condescending grin at them, “Of course if you want to keep allowing the people of Paris to suffer because you’re too proud to accept help you so desperately need, yet too incompetent to end it on your own…”

“Excuse me? What! Oh no, I was totally wrong about him. Go for it. Take him down, Dudette.” Carapace growled.

“So to be clear, she said she was already getting help and you heard her tell Constantine you weren’t supposed to know about the situation let alone welcome in Paris and you came anyway.” She stared them down, letting her words sink in. “You need to leave now. You can’t be here. Leave in the morning or we will force you.” Ladybug says grimly.

Robin glowering at her. “As if someone like you could”

“Without breaking a sweat, Sweetie. The warning is purely an attempt to keep things friendly. And with all due respect…”

“Which isn’t much,” rang out from all four members of team at the same time.

“…I assure you, if we have to remove you, things will be considerably less friendly and you won’t even know what hit you.” Ladybug stated coldly.

“You contemptible, duplicitous, mendacious, cretinous, Jezebel!” Robin raged.

“Robin, if you do not shut your fucking mouth right now,” Red Hood growled as he stalked toward him only held back by Red Robin, “I will personally toss you right the fuck after that fucking fox without your grappling hook.”

“You might want to apologize, Robin, or my arm might give out and not be able to hold him back anymore.” Red Robin hissed.

“Boys!” Batman thundered. “We are on a mission.”

Ladybug crooked her head to the side again, “I know you haven’t been doing this very long so a piece of advice for you; I understood very little of what you said. As a result, I am not nearly as offended as you wanted me to be. Look, I understand that Pompous Asshole is the only language you speak, but it may enhance your effectiveness if you were to work on bettering yourself in the communications area. It’s hard to intimidate someone if they have no idea what you are saying.”

Robin turned red at the suggestion he was inferior in any area, especially intimidation. He was to be feared not belittled. He had been trained as such since he was born. “See, I turned you redder than my suit solely using words you understood.”

Red Robin turned slightly toward Red hood with a huge grin and said quietly, “I’m definitely warming up to them.”

“Not to mention you are letting your anger undermine your stated purpose for being here. To make it clearer to you, you are messing it up for your team because you are incapable of controlling your emotions, so interested in making us feel like failures that you are causing your entire team to become one.” Ladybug broke it down sternly but softly, like she was speaking to a child, which she was. Despite what he thought of himself, he was a child.

Robin tensed to jump at them, reaching for his sword but stopped when Batman placed his hand on his shoulder and squeezed hard giving him a hard stare. “We are not suggesting you haven’t been doing a good job.” Batman stated. Robin scoffed. “We did not come to fight, I promise.”

“Wise move, but I think not everyone on your team got the memo.” Ladybug said coolly.

“It’s a shame he doesn’t have parents to teach him manners.” Chat stated casually as though he was thinking out loud. “Or maybe they’re more like mine, too invested in their own interests to actually invest in parenting their kids.” He turned a sharp gaze back to Batman, “Anyway, I digress, you were saying something?”

Red Robin grinned at the ground again as Red Hood interceded, attempting to change the topic. “We are all here to get more information and if you aren’t willing to give that then… then that’s fine. Can I just speak with the other woman, please?”

“Hood…” Batman warned.

“Ooo, LB. He’s got it bad.” Rena smiled.

“I assure you, you won’t get a different answer from her.” Ladybug responded plainly, forcing her eyes to stay sharp instead of softening like they wanted to do. He was not playing fair and he didn’t even know it. He was messing with her heart making it speed up and stop and skip beats all at the same time. It wasn’t fair.

“That’s fine. I just want to talk with her.” Red Hood asked, a touch of desperation leaking through his words.

“I think she has said quite enough talking already. She won’t be doing any more, not with you, not anytime soon.” Ladybug responded harshly. She still felt guilty for letting herself expose them to him like she had and needed to remind herself.

“What did you do to her?” Red Hood asked warily.

“She’s fine. We don’t harm our allies.” Ladybug said pointedly throwing a glare over toward Batman. “She does not want you here right now either.”

“You don’t speak for her,” Red Hood growled at her.

“Right now I do. She agrees the situation is too dangerous to have the Justice League here. It’s too dangerous for her and for you to be here until we have ended the threat.”

Red Hood desperately looking for some way to recover this. He couldn’t go back without getting some clue about her, without getting closer. He needed a chance, just one chance to get closer. “Cat guy, you going to let her speak for you?” Red Hood tried instead.

“Oooh, that was the wrong move.” Rena winced.

“Dude’s desperate give him a break. He’s looking for anyone who’ll give him a different answer.” Carapace offered weakly. He was rooting for him and willing to give him a break on one desperate, stupid attempt.

“Me? Yeah, that’s the way it works. She does the talking, I do the destroying.” Chat glared back at him then whispered “Black Storm” causing a black ball of condensed misfortune to appear between his hands. “Unless you’d really like me to take over…” he said rolling the ball between his hands like a magician’s floating ball.

“We are trying to help you dolt. We have experience and training, which you are sorely in need of.” Robin shouted at them.

“And excellent control over your emotions clearly. Tell me class why is that combination, NOT a benefit in this instance? Anyone? Anyone at all? Bueller? Bueller?” Chat taunted him.

“Listen here, you and your entire team, including that cat thieving hussy…” before Robin could finish the sentence Red Hood yelled, “Can you shut your trap for 3 seconds so we can have a conversation. We have a mission here and you are blowing it.”

A realization suddenly hit Chat, he pointed at Robin and looked at Ladybug wide eyed, “Oh it was his cat.” He turned back to Robin, “it was your cat. That explains the…” motions towards him and the hostility rolling off him in waves.

“You stole a cat?” Rena asked.

“Can’t wait to hear that story.” Carapace grinned.

“Interesting,” Bee said thoughtfully.

“That’s it. Taking the com out now. If there is anything important, announce it.” Ladybug said quietly pulling out her com.

“Sorry about that. Cats just really, really like her.” Chat motioned toward Ladybug, “I can attest. But we returned him to you little man, so… all good, right?” Robin glared at him and opened his mouth to speak but was cut off.

“Why don’t you tell us why it is a bad idea?” Batman interceded, attempting to bring the conversation back to the topic at hand. It had not escaped his notice that they had been speaking for a while now and had yet to get any information on the situation in Paris. “We would appreciate more information on the situation.”

Chat was done with this conversation, with the false promises, the hostilities, and the disrespect. “Huh, where did all that confidence and bravado go? Just a second ago I swear I heard something about knowing how to handle the situation better than us because we were so utterly, helplessly incompetent and yet here you are asking us what the situation is and for advice on how to handle it. Well here’s the advice; Get Out. Your interference will make Bialya look like a success.” Chat growled. Ladybug put a hand on his arm again warning him to back down on the hostility.

“Bialya was… an unfortunate event.” Batman conceded.

“That is putting it mildly. But the Justice League always knows better, right?” Chat hissed.

“Chat! Robin insinuated the incompetence not Batman. Batman is asking why we think it is a bad idea for them to stay and we want them to understand that, remember?” Ladybug offered attempting to bring down the hostility and suspicion on both sides. She was still well aware of Batman’s true intentions and he needed to be called on it, but they were edging to pushing too hard.”

“We just came to find out what is going on. Offer assistance if you needed it. NOT take over.” Red Robin repeated, looking directly at Ladybug. Chat was looking for a fight, but Ladybug appeared willing to talk. She was willing to work with them, at least a little. She was the one they needed to focus on.

Chat scoffed but Ladybug tightened her grip on his arm stopping him from continuing, “We appreciate the offer but we will kindly have to decline it. We have considered the options, researched the players, and we have decided at this point in time having members of the Justice League, or affiliated organizations, in Paris is too dangerous for us and for Paris.” Ladybug stated diplomatically, ignoring what she was sure were angry cries coming over the com in Chat’s ear about her being too nice.

“We would like to see if there is room for us to offer assistance. We would be negligent if we just took your word for it.” Batman said sternly not giving an inch.

“Already doubting our word and trying to force your way into the situation I see.” Ladybug quirked a brow but kept her voice light. “You can get the information you seek from any of the many online resources available.”

“Those aren’t available outside of Paris.” Red Robin pointed out.

“Well then I suggest you download the contents of the sites before you leave in the morning. You could also call up business people here to discuss the situation under the guise of investigating whether adding a Paris branch to… a company,” she just stopped herself from exposing their identities. Even if she was confident there were no cameras up here, it was still good practice. “…would be dangerous. Not to mention the files in your possession that we copied. They contain more than enough information to give you the insight you desire.” She suggested well aware of the fact that even with decryption software working full force, they would not be able to decipher the Grimoire texts. “There are options other than being here and exposing yourself to our villain.

“The abridged version is we have a villain that takes advantage of people’s negative emotions to possess them. It allows him to use that person’s knowledge, combined with his own against us. As a result, having people in Paris who are experts in combat or people who would go to any length to find out our identities is extremely dangerous to us and could tip the balance in Hawkmoth’s favor. That’s a double strike for you.”

“We don’t need to know your identities. We can help you without knowing them.” Red Robin assured them.

Ladybug cocked her head to the side, her voice dripping in skepticism. “Can you honestly say none of you would try to figure out our identities and how to defeat us? That you don’t have files on everyone you work with, on how to take them down, their weaknesses, where to hit to have the strongest impact, including discovering their identities with or without their permission?” Thank you to Constantine for that little tidbit. “Our identities are secret by necessity. We don’t even know each other’s identities,” a small lie, but a necessary one. It still made her uncomfortable to say it, she curled her fingers and straightened them back out in response to the uncomfortable feeling. “Imagine that information in the hands of Hawkmoth.”

“Like we would let someone take it.” Robin sneered at them.

“Like you could control it.” Chat sneered right back at him.

“Regardless of intent or actual physical possession of the files, as I mentioned before, our villain takes advantage of people’s emotions to turn them into supervillains with their own superpowers. He takes over their minds. Any negative emotion makes you susceptible. Have you ever felt sad? Mad? Frustrated? Guilty? Desperate? Then you’re susceptible. Tell me who in the Justice League would be immune to that?” Ladybug looked them in the eyes, refusing to back down or soften this blow.

“I’ve seen the moon destroyed and the world annihilated. We’ve seen the city flooded and a super volcano half the size of the city bubbling away instead of our suburbs. We’ve seen the very air turned into sulfer dioxide. Have you ever heard children screeching in more pain than any human should ever have to experience? Have you heard hundreds at the same time? Have you had to listen to the inhuman sounds they make? We have and we relive it every single night. Have you had to dig through your partners’ blood to find their miraculous after watching them die in front of you, get beheaded next to you, in order to finish the fight? He has.” She said gesturing toward Chat. “Those were people with newly acquired powers but no training. Imagine what would happen if one of the Justice League became akumatized, familiarity with how to wield powers and strategic training with new and unlimited power… It was not a risk we were willing to take.”

Red Hood stared in horror. That was why his Pixie Pop was so angry at the gala when she thought Constantine was messing around and wasting time, because that is what she had to deal with and any delay meant the people of Paris had to deal with more of it. That was what she was so desperate to stop, Hell on Earth, constant agony. And every additional second they had to bear it was torture.

Red Robin stared dazed at her for a few moments but then narrowed his eyes realizing an inconsistency in her story, “The city looks amazingly unharmed, considering all you claim to have seen.”

“That’s my power. I fix miraculous related damage.” Ladybug responded tiredly.

“Convenient” Robin quipped.

“Not nearly as convenient as preventing it from happening in the first place, I assure you. The cure fixes the physical damage but it doesn’t fix the psychological damage done. It doesn’t take away the memories. Everyone remembers what happened to them and to the ones they love.” She turned to Batman with soft eyes, “I understand that you want to get as much information as humanly possible so you can feel like you have some control over this situation but you don’t. You won’t. You can’t. The help that would be most valuable to the city of Paris is if you could convince Bruce Wayne to send fleets of therapists. I understand you have a unique relationship with him.”

Batman stared silently, letting the description settle in. If what they were saying was true, then the situation was worse than he had anticipated. They were handling it but heroes had died. She was right that therapists would also be advantageous, not only for the citizens of Paris but for the heroes as well. It was a miracle they hadn’t had anyone break from the stress yet. If anything, it solidified his resolve to get to know everything he could about the situation so they could step in when one of the heroes inevitably did succumb to the pressure.

“We could help in other ways. We could offer support from a distance. We could help, we just need to know more about the miraculous and how they work, what their strengths and weaknesses are. We can work together.” Red Robin offered.

“Is that what you would do? Made a deal with a group that has a history of betrayal and violence towards allies? We know Batman would and has. Would you? And trust them to keep their word? Give them all the secrets and insights on how to undermine us or neutralize us? Trust them to stay out of Paris and not ‘know better than us how to handle it’? Not get us to trust you so you could find out more about the miraculous and take it so you could keep it better protected?” Ladybug asked in a dubious tone.

Batman stayed silent in response to the obvious suggestion. Not denying it. Red Hood and Red Robin shot Batman glares from the corner of their eyes, not wanting to make it completely obvious that she had deduced the plan they had been arguing over earlier.

Ladybug took note of their silence and hummed in response. “I thought so. It sounds like we made the correct choice after all.”

“No, please. It sounds like you have a lot of issues with B here. That’s fine, I understand. I do too. Let me stay and help.” Red Hood took off his mask revealing his face, no domino mask to preserve any semblance of secrecy. He wanted to lay everything out in the open. He moved closer to Ladybug and Chat until he was halfway between them and his family. He needed them to see how earnestly he meant his words. Ladybug’s breath hitched looking into his eyes shining with sincerity as he plead with them. She wanted to look over to his family to see how they were reacting but she couldn’t take her eyes off of Red Hood’s.

“I can act as intermediary, support, nothing more. B and his team stay out of the city. Justice League stays out of the city. And I help train you and help you track down your villain. I’m a damn good detective. I can help.” Red Robin stared at him incredulously and Robin glared at him. Batman’s look was indecipherable.

He started to say something but is interrupted by sound of “Akumas incoming, multiple” coming from the areas of Chat’s baton and Ladybug’s cord around her waist.

“Dammit,” Ladybug yelled. “5 minutes! 5 fucking minutes! And honestly it could probably be any of them.” She pulled a familiar set of glasses out of her yoyo and threw them to Chat. “It's time for you to leave. Longg, Tikki, Unify.” She commanded as the necklace she was wearing glowed and she was washed in a golden light causing her suit, mask, and hair to change transforming into Dragon Bug.

Chat grabbed the glasses out of the air without looking, keeping his glare settled on the Batfamily. “Looks like you managed to endanger all of Paris in all of 5 minutes. Congratulations, you’ve surpassed our already low expectations for you.” Chat sneered at them putting the glasses on and yelling “Plaag, Kaalki, Unify!” allowing a teal light to wash over him and change his suit, mask, and hair as well transforming him into Cheval Noir.

“Wait, what is an akuma?” Red Robin asked in defensive stance ready to attack whatever it was coming at them.

“It’s what turns you into unstoppable monsters. It’s why we didn’t want you here.” Ladybug snapped. “How long do we have?” Ladybug yelled searching the sky around them. The sound of “Maybe two minutes, if you’re lucky.” came from her waist. She nodded and focused on the pool.

There are many advantages to becoming an adult. Suddenly a person can participate in the government, vote, drink, buy a house, get married… But for Marinette and Adrien, the most significant advantage was they could expand their existing powers and unlock new powers. The moment they turned eighteen they were able to do new and exciting things with their miraculous. Their time limit was now nonexistent, they could call on their powers multiple times without recharging, and they could access new powers, powers like Black Storm and Tidal Wave, assuming they had been trained on how to call on them, or had access to and knowledge on how to read the sacred texts that described them, which they now had thanks to the files they had pilfered from the bats.

“Tidal wave!” Dragon Bug yelled moving her arms slowly. Everyone on the roof stared at Dragon Bug wondering what that command did. Their eyes were drawn to the pool when they noticed the water begin to move, slowly at first, swirling like a lazy current under the surface. The movement became faster as the water started to swirl around and rise above the edges of the pool. The bat family and Chat watched in disbelieving awe as the water rose out of the pool in one solid mass, swirling and twirling around and back into itself, and heading straight toward the bat family.

The bats on the other side of the pool moved back a few steps but didn’t move fast enough in their stupor to escape the water. “What the hell?” Red Robin exclaimed quietly as he and Robin were swept up into the vortex that was now moving too fast for them to fight the current. Batman had managed to fight against the water for a few moments, but Robin and Red Robin, whose bodies were much lither were swept up immediately. The water carried them around again at a faster and faster velocity, on their second trip around the vortex, they collided with Batman, knocking him off his feet and forcing him to be at the mercy of the current.

Chat was so mesmerized by the water show he forgot he was supposed to create a portal. Staring instead in wonder at the new power Ladybug had somehow mastered in a few hours. He found out about Black Storm yesterday and still could only roll it around a bit. He still had no idea what it would actually do if he used it. “Chat! Portal to the Batcave now” Dragon Bug screamed at him.

“Right! On it!” Chat exclaimed waking up from his stupor. “Voyage!” he called out motioning toward the water, creating a portal behind it. Ladybug pushed the water through the portal. She flicked her eyes over to Red Hood and hesitated.

“Got about 20 seconds at most, Bug. If you’re going to do something, do it now!” Carapace yelled.

“Are you leaving on your own or do I need to make you?” She asked with pleading eyes. She did not want to make him. She needed him to understand and believe in her enough to do what she asked, even if he didn’t know it was her.

Red Hood looked between her and the portal. He turned back to her, “Please just let me help.”

Dragon Bug looked at him with a conflicted look in her eyes. “It isn’t safe right now and we can’t deal with the akumas if I’m worrying about you too. We just don’t have time to prepare. I need you to go.”

Red Hood stared at her uncertain. “Please, we don’t have time.” Dragon Bug begged him again. He relented and walked backward toward the portal. She let out a grateful breath turned her attention toward the incoming akumas.

“There’s the first one,” Chat yelled. Red Hood whipped his head to where Chat was looking just barely seeing a butterfly over his shoulder as he picked up his pace and started running toward the portal, jumping through just as it closed behind him.

Chapter 7

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Full Disclosure: I came up with the Redwood nickname WEEKS before I realized it could be a pun. I was just looking for names indicating very large things. Chat has a much better ability to spot a pun than I do.

And it is my personal headcanon for this story is that Adrien is a bit like Dick. He likes to keep things light and jokey but if you want to go there, Bitch, he’ll go there with you. His lightness is a self-defense mechanism. Without it, he will go to a dark and scary place and he will take you there with him.

And also, I’m pretty sure this is before Duke was brought into the Batfamily. I think Damian was older than he is in the story when Duke appeared. Otherwise, clearly Duke would be the most rational person to send to Paris.

#Pixie Spy #jasonette #maribat

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