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silentglassbreak · 10 months ago

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Anonymous

Noah Sebastian x OFC

This story is flying out of me folks. Hope the few readers I have so far are enjoying! Again, if you want to be tagged, lemme know.

Warnings: Alcohol abuse, overall abuse, mild violence (ie. bar fights), smut, swearing, and altogether just a lot of fuckery.

+It goes without saying, this is a work of fiction. All of my words are my own. Plagiarism is a crime.

Part 4 - Never Know

The ride back to Calabasas was surprisingly more comfortable than I expected. Once it was just the two of us, Noah had become rather chatty, going on about the show, the crowd, the lighting that kept pissing him off, the meet and greet.

“It always amazes me how many people walk around with my face on their shirts.” He laughed to himself.

“Yeah, I’ve always found that kind of strange, wearing another human on your body.”

I felt his eyes burning a hole into the side of my head.

“That sounded very serial killer-ish?” His tone was apprehensive and playful.

“Who says that’s not what I meant?” I managed to hold my composure for about 30 seconds before bursting into a fit of laughter, him following right behind.

“Yeah, sure pipsqueak.”

My jaw dropped. “Excuse me! Not all of us are walking Elm trees, okay?!”

“Yeah, and not all of us are shorter than 5 feet!”

My hand batted over at him, his arms flailing in defense while he laughed at me.

“I am five-foot-one, mister!”

He held his stomach, his laughter roaring.

I set my head back on the headrest, my wheels inching forward at a snail’s pace. Normally, a drive to Calabasas from Hollywood would only take about 45 minutes, but a wreck on the 101 Freeway had us in gridlock. We had already been sitting, barely moving for about thirty minutes.

Normally, I wouldn’t mind. We had good music on the radio, it was a cool, crisp evening, and Noah was plenty good company. However, my bladder was going to betray me soon, and I could feel it.

I squirmed in my seat for a moment, trying to arrange my jeans to take some pressure off my bladder. I must have been obvious, because Noah spoke up.

“You okay?”

I stopped wiggling immediately. “Hm?” He raised an eyebrow at me. “Oh, yeah. Just getting restless.”

“You sure?”

I smiled earnestly. “Yeah.”

“Well I don’t know about you but I’ve got to pee like a motherfucker.”

I sighed loudly. “Oh my GOD me too!”

He laughed and turned the heat up in the car. I looked over at him inquisitively’

He put his hands up. “It helps. I don’t know why, but it helps.”

Thirty more minutes of traffic and we were finally driving winding roads through neighborhoods I had only dreamed of. I helped sell houses, but not houses like this. He finally directed me to a gated driveway, where he got out and held his wallet up to a small terminal. Slowly the gate creaked open, and he jumped back in the car.

“You want to come in and use the restroom?”

I bit my lip, staring up at the huge house before me. It was intimidating just to look at, let alone imagine myself inside of.

“Erm…” I nervously picked at my fingernail. “That’s okay, I can wait.”

He gave me a look that told me he wasn’t accepting that. “No you can’t, c’mon. No one will be home for a while.”

He hopped out before I could protest further. The call of nature was stronger than my will to fight, so I followed, hastily grabbing my purse and hitting the door locks.

I followed him up a pathway through a large grassy yard, through a door that I couldn’t even guess how tall it was.

When we walked in, I was surprised. It wasn’t how I pictured a rock band to live. He had mentioned him and the entire band lived there. I’m not entirely sure what I expected, piles of beer cans? Guitars everywhere? Random studio equipment? It felt silly now, thinking it back over.

It was normal. Sure, there were guitars hung over the mantle neatly, obviously not played much, with framed records hung between. But the couch looked so comfortable, a throw blanket draped over the back. The staircase wound through the living room, and beyond I imagined the kitchen was somewhere deeper into the home.

“Bathroom’s right there.” Noah pointed to a door just off the staircase. “I’m going to use the one in my room. I’m going to change real quick too. I’ll only be a sec.”

And with that, he was bounding up the staircase, two steps at a time. He really did have to pee.

I cautiously made my way over to the door he pointed out. Inside I found a half bathroom, only a toilet and sink. Black rugs lined the floor and bright red towels hung from the holders. I locked the door and quickly made my way to the toilet.

Washing my hands, I happened to glance at myself in the mirror. Holy fuck, I was a mess.

My eyeliner and mascara were smeared under my eyes, my jet black hair was frizzed, and I had something on my sweater. What the hell did I manage to spill on myself?! Nachos. The god damn nachos.

I quickly took my sweater off, exposing my plain black tank top underneath, tying it around my waist. I pulled my contact case from my purse and easily removed my lenses, before splashing water on my cheeks and rubbing dampened toilet paper under my eyes to rid the excess smudgy liner.

I slipped my glasses on quickly, cursing the metal frames for aging me at least ten years, and threw my hair up in a ponytail, smoothing it out as best as I could.

When I came out of the bathroom, I heard footsteps from the top of the staircase.

“Better?” I looked up at him, hands clutching around the strap of my cross-body bag.

“Much, thank you.”

Noah had a curious smile on his face that made me rebalance my weight in each foot. “What?”

He shook his head and made his way down the stairs. “Nice glasses.”

I instinctively turned my face away. When I looked back, he was next to me. His eyes caught mine in a trance, dark and looming. I couldn’t feel if I was breathing anymore, and I’m not entirely sure if I cared in that moment.

That ‘moment’ went on for longer than I would’ve liked before his eyebrows shot up.

“Sugar!”

This broke me from my daze, confusing me. I raised an eyebrow but too quick, he grabbed me by the wrist and started leading me to the kitchen past the staircase.

“We need sugar.” He let go of me at the counter, opening the freezer drawer of the fridge. He came out with a tub of vanilla ice cream, and loudly pulled two spoons out of the drawer next to me, dropping one in front of me.

Flipping the top off of the tub, he dug his spoon in and stuffed it into his mouth, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip. I tried not to stare at him.

“I think I’m okay.”

He shook his head at my argument.

“Nope. You said that as my sponsor, you’d eat ice cream with me if I needed it.” He pointed at the tub. “Eat.”

I raised my eyebrow and picked up the spoon, getting only a touch of ice cream on the end.

“I don’t remember saying exactly that.”

He shrugged, but I still put the sweet, cold spoon in my mouth. It did help.

We sat in silence for a moment, devouring the fresh tub of ice cream for a few minutes before he grabbed it and headed for a tall black table near the countertop. I followed.

We sat adjacent, tub in the center, and continued to gorge.

“So, am I going to get fat from all the sugar?”

This made me chuckle and shake my head. “You’ve got to counteract the carbs. Work out. That also helps because of the endorphins.”

“That sounds like a lot of work.” His tongue was cleaning the underside of the spoon, and I had evidently stopped mid-bite to ogle this, because he smirked at me.

“Sorry.” He sheepishly put the spoon down.

I blinked rapidly and coughed out a giggle. “No, no, I’m sorry.”

Standing up, I turned around and headed for the sink. Quickly rinsing water over my spoon, I set it in the metal basin with a loud clink.

I felt his arm come up beside me, setting his down as well. I hadn’t even heard him walk over.

He didn’t move away from my side, just standing directly behind me. I felt the warmth of his breath on the bare skin at the nape of my neck. His hand was still resting on the countertop to my right and I saw his knuckles turning white where they grasped the edge.

This was bad. I didn’t know what it was, but it was bad.

He did back away after a moment, breathing loudly. I took an extra second to compose myself before turning around.

When I did, there were those eyes again. Boring into me. However, after a second, he smiled, lifting his hand to my face. I was frozen, entirely unaware of what was happening.

His thumb reached up, and swiped across my bottom lip. Is he serious?

When he pulled his hand back, however, the creamy white liquid made me chuckle. I had ice cream on my lip. I reached up and wiped my mouth, while he laughed and just wiped his hand on the sweat pants he was wearing.

“I’m such a mess today.”

He shook his head in response. “I don’t think so.”

And suddenly, the air was thick. Thicker than water. Thicker than syrup. I couldn’t even breathe. His lips were so close. It wouldn’t take much, just a swift movement. A trip? A leer in the wrong direction?

His eyes were studying mine, back and forth. Mine were fixated on his mouth, pink from the cold. Puffy. Absolutely mouth watering.

My body began pulling back, when a hand grabbed me by the back of the neck, fast as lightning, and pulled me in.

His mouth was hot, despite our dessert. His tongue was searching through my mouth, my eyes rolling back behind my lids.

My instincts kicked in and my hands grabbed his shirt, pulling his body closer.

A low, guttural growl escaped his throat before his hand reached down and grabbed my ass, lifting me in the air. He pushed me back onto the countertop so we were at an even level.

I can’t say how long this went on, our mouths fighting each other, my hands gripping his hair. His hands were sliding up and down my thighs, fingertips touching my hips. My body was electric white hot need.

It had been so so long.

But at that moment, that stupid, idiotic fucking moment, my brain kicked in.

He has a girlfriend.

He has a girl-friend!

He has a girlfriend!

YOU’RE HIS FUCKING SPONSOR!

This brought me back, my hands forfeiting his hair, and pushing my body backwards. The back of my head bumped the cabinet behind me, but not hard enough to care.

His pupils were blown wide, making his irises appear to be entirely black.

“Leena…I…I’m so fucking sor-“ But before he could finish, I had hopped down from the counter.

“I have to go.” I padded to the front door, not looking back. I jumped in my truck and nearly peeled away from the driveway, only slowing down to allow the gate to open again.

What the fuck did I just do?

I forced myself to sleep that night, refusing to process what all had just happened.

I regretted it the next day, when I woke up with blackened eye crust and stiff from wearing my hair in a ponytail over night.

I had only the forethought to take my jeans and bra off. I cursed myself when I saw my reflection the following morning. It was horrendous.

My hair was askew, half ripped from the ponytail. My eyes were bloodshot, which is odd given I didn’t think I had cried. Maybe I cried on my way home? Who knows. I actively tried to block it all out.

This was unacceptable behavior from me. I’m the responsible one. The older one. The sober-senior, so to speak.

To only add insult to injury, I had forgotten to grab my energy drinks last night, so I was stuck making a good old fashioned cup of coffee with my barely used Keurig.

While I waited for it to brew, I grabbed my phone out of my purse, groaning when I saw it was on 24% battery. I didn’t even plug it in.

I did notice that I had several fresh texts. One from Laura, one from Abel, and one from Noah.

Naturally, I wanted to open Laura’s first, but my morals forced me to open Noah’s first. He might need his sponsor (which is all I am to him).

Noah: Leena, I can’t even begin to tell you how awful I feel. I’m so so so so so so so sorry. I completely understand if you don’t want to sponsor me anymore. Please just let me know you made it home safe.

Fuck that guy, and how god damn sweet he was. He shouldn’t be apologizing, I should. I should know better.

The text had come in at 11:46PM, right after I left. I sighed, typing a fast response.

Me: Please don’t apologize. It’s not your fault. I’m sorry. I can still sponsor you, maybe we just see each other in group only?

I added a smiley face to hopefully convey that I wasn’t actually angry at him.

His response came too fast for me to ignore.

Noah: I understand. See you Tuesday. I’ll call if I need you.

I felt like the message was almost cold, but I ignored it.

I didn’t even bother texting Laura before calling her.

“Hey babes! I’m so fucking tired this morning. I don’t know how I thought I was going to make it through work today. My back is kill-“

I had to cut her off. “He fucking kissed me.”

The other end went completely silent.

“What?!?!” Her shrill voice mimicked my own panic.

“Yup.”

“I fucking knew you liked him!”

I sneered. “Didn’t you hear me?! He kissed me!”

“Oh okay, so you pushed him off?”

I hesitated. I did, just after being an entire fucking moron for at least two minutes. “Y-Yes.”

My voice was such a God damn traitor.

“Oh no, Leena.” Her tone was serious now. I didn’t even have the balls to respond. “This is bad, babe. You can’t fall for your sponsee.”

“Fall for him?!” My turn to be shrill. “I don’t even know him!”

Poor Angel whined at me from down near my legs. I padded to the back door and let him out.

“Exactly! And see how drawn to him you are already! You need to stay away from him.”

“I’m his sponsor, Laura. I can’t exactly ditch the guy.”

She sighed. “No, but you can keep a distance.”

“Yeah. I told him we should only see each other in group.”

“What did he say?” I read her his response. She tsk’ed. “He’s butthurt.”

“He has a girlfriend.”

“Apparently one he can’t care about too much.”

I sighed. “It’s the alcohol withdrawal, dude. It makes you do stupid shit. Makes you crave…stuff.”

“Like hot little brunette girls?” I rolled my eyes.

“Oh my fucking god.”

She laughed then. “I’m fucking with you.”

“Please don’t. I’m fucking struggling here.” I groaned loudly. “I want a drink so bad.”

Her tone changed. “Babes?” I hung my head over the kitchen counter. “Maybe you should call your sponsor.”

My head snapped up. “You’re right. I’m going to.”

“Call me later if you want.”

I agreed and hung up. Scrolling through my phone, I called the one person I trusted more than myself.

The phone rang only a second before his voice rang out on the other end. “Hey! You okay?”

“Hey Daddy. No, I’m not.”

After a good two hour talk with my Dad, a scalding hot shower, and three pieces of cinnamon toast, I was curled up in bed, arm slung over Angel who thoroughly enjoyed our lazy days, watching The Conjuring. It was nearly 8PM, and I had no other plans. My day off tomorrow would be for laundry and cleaning. Maybe a run? Today was for sulking and healing.

Which I could do, if my phone didn’t start ringing.

Noah’s name flashed across the screen and I groaned before fixing my tone.

“Hello?”

“When does this stop being so fucking hard?” His voice was agitated, and much louder than I was used to. He was worked up, which was dangerous when you’re trying not to drink.

I sat up straight in bed, hitting pause on my remote.

“Noah, what happened?”

I heard him huffing on the other end of the phone. “No, answer that for me. Fucking, please!” He was yelling now.

I stiffened my voice. “Noah, please don’t yell at me.”

I heard him take three calculated breaths.

“I’m sorry. I’m just pissed off.”

I nodded, as if he could see. “It’s okay. Talk to me, what happened?”

“Lily and I got into a fight.”

“Lily?”

“My girlfriend.” I felt my confidence slip.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. I tried to tell her I didn’t want to meet her for drinks. That I was still sick. She told me I had been acting so weird and told me I’ve been so off lately.”

I laid back on my pillows, letting him continue to vent.

“Which says a lot because the only difference is, I’ve been fucking SOBER! I’ve been working my ass off to get better, and she tells me I’m essentially boring. Like, I’m a vocalist for fuck’s sake! Alcohol murders my voice! I can’t sing for shit when I’ve been drinking! And I always end up fighting someone. Some rando at the bar, or Nick, or Jolly. It’s a miracle I haven’t been arrested!”

His rant was only getting stronger.

“I want to get healthy. I want to be better. And that’s me being off? She hasn’t even noticed I’ve been sober!”

He made a sound that was something of a growling, which made my stomach flip. I ignored it. But I could hear his breathing slow.

“Feel better?” My voice was small, unsure if he was quite done.

His voice snorted on the other end. “Yeah, I do, actually.”

I smiled, sad. “Good.”

The line was quiet for a few, just breathing from each end.

“Maybe it’s time to tell her, Noah? Maybe you should tell all of them. You’ll be surprised who may support you.” He shrugged.

“I don’t know how.”

“I get that, but you know them better than anyone else. You got this. I’m sure they love you, and will understand.” I’m not sure, but he needs the comfort right now.

“Thanks Mileena.” I had never heard him say my full name. “Sorry for calling.”

I laughed. “Never apologize for needing your sponsor.”

“My friend?”

This made me pause, but I did respond. “Of course.”

#noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens #fanfic

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activate-shadow-of-the-window · 1 year ago

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Hermittober Day 10: Sacrifice

When Pearl had given Hypno permission to come to Great Blackwood’s temple, what she’d expected the mercenary to do was show up in person with an armful of evidence in the middle of the night.

The last thing she’d expected him to do was show up with Etho, of all people, a flock of parrot-folk whom she had mixed feelings about, one very sleep-deprived Grian, one very twitchy Cub, and one very nervous Impulse, at the crack of dawn.

She sighed. “What are you doing with these guys, Hypno?”

The bat-folk grinned unabashedly, flashing his single gold tooth proudly. “Exactly what I told you I would, priestess. It just so happens that everyone here is involved too!”

“I’ll take your word, mercenary. Come on in, Sovereign, Emperor, Sitter, and assorted parrot-folk technicians.”

As the strange bedfellows filed past Pearl, she gave a sharp inhale and grasped her scythe so hard that her knuckles went white. “Cub? Are you, uh, deprived?”

The sovereign nodded mutely and spread his hands, showing off jagged claws of a deep blue color. His whole being was sufficed by that indigo-teal hue: his irises, his hair, his lips, and even a small bruise on his hand from riding hard was tinted with it.

“Yes. It was… a struggle to get here, but Hypno’s urgency convinced me that it was worth the risk. If I remember correctly, Great Ironbark’s temple has a sculk garden. May I visit after the meeting?”

“Of course, neighbor. It has been so long since you were like this, more than a year, if memory serves me. Is your condition related to Hypno’s work?”

“Yes. But the rest can wait, can it not?”

As Pearl escorted the assortment to a small drawing-room, she noticed that everyone was extremely on edge. Impulse’s ears were twitching at every little sound, and he was truly catlike in his movements. Grian’s eyes constantly darted about, and his feathers were fully slicked back. The rest of the parrot-folk mirrored his behavior. Only Etho seemed calm, but then again, he was calm unless something actively horrible was going on.

Etho unshouldered the massive pack he was carrying, and began taking stuff out of it. “Don’t touch this stuff, alright, Pearl? We really, really don’t want to contaminate the evidence. I’m only touching it cause I have both good gloves and experience with this kinda stuff.”

“Since when did you investigate crimes?”

“Since about a week ago. There’ that’s it. Nobody drop any hair or fur or feathers in there, okay? Don’t want our employers thinking we’re the culprits.”

Pearl took in the nonsense that Etho had laid out on the table. A massive bundle of sculk-covered machinery, seemingly rotted beyond use, took up the bulk of the space. A few globs of the stuff sat in a pair of sealed bottles, writhing and striking gently at the glass. A pile of very shiny glass, shattered beyond reconstruction, was heaped up on a handkerchief. And a book marked with ‘Multishot’, lacking the telltale gleam of enchantment.

“What the hell kind of evidence is this?“

Grian quickly scittered over, jabbing a finger at each in quick succession. “Part of a rudimentary Shrieker System, with barely enough range to cover a mile dome. Sculk specimens taken from said system, acting unnaturally according to Cub. The remains of a bottle-o-enchanting, painstakingly gathered up by Salem over there. And a drained, not spent but drained, book of Multishot enchantment.”

“… so? I get that K— they know it has something to do with sculk, but… oh. The culprits had to have gotten it from somewhere, and only Cub, Grian, and Tango grow it in any decent amounts. So they stole it from you, and tried to recreate the Shrieker machine? But why?”

Hypno drew in a breath and clasped his hands. “Well… you know those two people you told me to find and track?”

“Yes.”

“Well, they were actually incredibly easy to find. One William Creek, first name Lord, and one Zedaph, full name unknown. Both in Technicolor, as it seems, alongside an Ernest Xander. They’re all rooming together, but Zedaph only showed up yesterday, so—“

Impulse suddenly jumped up from where he was literally twiddling his thumbs. “Wait, Hypno, how did you get down here from Technicolor in less than a day?”

The bat-folk chuckled. “Oh, I have my ways. Many ways. But the important thing is, I’ve done my side of the bargain. Pay up, priestess, and tell me who I’m really working for.”

“Well, a deal’s a deal. I got contacted by Mayor Keralis and Vice-Mayor Iskall to make good on a debt I owed them. They told me to hire you, and to use you to find out what’s going on down here in the south in relation to the case they’re working. They call it the Lumbar Case, because somehow the Dragon’s Spine is involved. Now that you’ve gotten me what they wanted, I should be sending this evidence up north. But…”

Everyone collectively leaned forward. “But what!”

Pearl sighed. “But. Sigh. They were attacked yesterday. Both mayors were ambushed on their way to the Spine, and Keralis is infected with sculk.”

Cub suddenly lurched up, wings viciously humming into existence as he hissed at the word sculk. “No. No! He can’t be! They couldn’t have done that! No! They must have reverse-engineered my research somehow… in the name of the Void-Spawned Dragon, I will find these idiots if it costs me my flight. No-one deserves to be infected like this.”

As Cub buzzed around the room in a rage, Pearl clacked a hoof to get everyone’s attention. “Cub, Cub, I get it. But you didn’t let me finish. Keralis and Iskall were only attacked by three people. A sword fighter in dark armor, a staff-wielding fighter in a monk��s robe and mask, and an unseen person firing a crossbow and, uh, and arquebus. A pistol, most likely. All three managed to escape, but Keralis grabbed something from the sword-fighter as he tried to flee. Or knight, I should say.”

Everyone’s eyes were drawn to the sketch Pearl held up; a crude drawing of a knight in dark armor, with red eyes glaring out from his visor, and a blood red plume sprouting from his helmet.

#horizon to horizon au #hermitcraft au #fanfic #fanfiction #microfiction #hermittober #hermitcraft

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s1ater · 2 years ago

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your sister is hot!

pairings. steve harrington x fem!henderson!reader

about. steve makes his first encounter with dustin's hot sister.

warnings. foul language

ricky rocks. short fic to introduce this. i think all future fics i do with henderson!reader will be short and not following the plot of st, just fun :)

"why the fuck is my baseball bat covered in nails?"

dustin cringed at the sound of your voice echoing out past the front door where he just almost got away. steve turned to look at him, his eyebrow arching to the implication of yelling and the look on dustin's face—who had his eyes scrunched closed and his white teeth showing as the were clenched down, wincing.

"dustin!"

"who's that?" steve whispered, demanding the answer as the sound of your footfalls were also echoing through the house and closer to them.

"my sister," he sounded miserable, but defeated as he turned back around and back toward the front door where you were there to meet him, looking absolutely fuming.

steve's eyes widened, slightly taking a step back at the sight of you. you were not what he expected--i mean he didn't expect anyone because he didn't know dustin had a sister in the first place, but he also didn't expect you to be so pretty.

"dustin."

"yes?" his voice was distraught as he looked at his feet, already ready for your scolding.

"why is my baseball bat covered in nails?" you repeated the question, only this time more calm, but the anger was practically soaking your voice.

"uh, funny you should ask, actually," he giggled nervously, his pointer finger coming up as if to make a point, but he ran out of words immediately.

"project," steve finished for him fast, already being able to tell if the boy kept speaking, he'd probably be hung.

you now looked up from dustin and toward steve. you were looking at him as if you hadn't even noticed him until he started speaking. you frowned, looking at him strangely, very strangely.

"dustin," your voice was low as you were now leaned down to his ear, "why is steve harrington on our front lawn?"

"also funny that you ask."

"charity," steve says fast, once again interrupting dustin from furthering this situation into somewhere it didn't need to be. "good for the college application, you know? i'm spending the day with your brother, doing whatever he wants."

you look between the two and steve can tell by how confused you are, you won't push it further. this was very strange for you.

"yeah, whatever," your voice is still low, "just.. buy me a new fucking bat, make that apart of your charity, alright?" you turn around and walk back into the house before he can even answer.

steve is just beyond shock as dustin slowly turns around to face him, already preparing himself for the heat of questions.

"henderson, you didn't tell me you had a sister."

"yeah, for a very good reason."

“your sister’s hot.”

“hey, man, let’s not get so vulgar," dustin's hands raise as he joins steve's side and they begin to walk back toward his car. "that's my sister."

"and she plays baseball?" he exclaims, "how could you keep this from me, it's a fucking crime!”

"steve, you're a whore, i don’t know if you know that—thought i should be the first one to tell you—but that's why i didn't tell you about my sister."

"still man..!"

navigation.

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bebepac · 3 years ago

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Fall From Grace 🍎

The Series: The Rotten Apple 🍎 (Click the link if you need to catch up) The book: TRH and beyond Pairings: Liam x Riley / Eleanor x Nico (Eleanor x M!OC) Ratings and Warnings: Mature, mention of multiple character deaths, profanity mental illness. Word Count: 3820 Song Inspiration: All I Wanted by Paramore

Summary: All of Eleanor’s truths are revealed

A/N: Here we are at the reckoning. I hope that I don’t disappoint.

Original Post: 04/23/22 at 10:53PM EST.

Nico sat back in his seat in shock.

"I felt like something did not make sense about his death."

"Nicolai's primary cause of death was drowning."

"But you said…."

"His secondary cause of death was blunt force trauma to the head."

"I'm still not following."

"Had Nicolai not been pushed into Rys Lake, and we firmly believe he was pushed, he would have survived the blow to his head. His lungs were full with water. The hit to the head by the object, though strong, was not enough to kill him. Because he was disoriented, he could not swim."

"And my son was a very strong swimmer, he would never drown."

"But I want to talk to you more about the assailant, and the blunt object. Did your son have any enemies at the palace?"

"Nicolai was well loved by everyone."

"And he was following in your footsteps to the guard?"

"Yes, my son was a junior guard, because of his legacy status. One of the top in his class."

"And you trained him along with the others?"

"Yes. My son did not receive special treatment because of my Centurion Guard status. As I said he was one of the top in his class. He did not deserve the top position just because he is my son."

"That's admirable, Mr. Karahalios. Did he get along with his classmates?"

"He did, I mean sure there was some rivalry between the boys and girls as they all want to be considered for the Kingsguard and those upper level positions, in the future."

"How many left handed junior guards do you have?"

"Four."

"I will need their names."

"Why are you looking for left handed guards in his class?"

"Because the person who hit Nicolai was left handed. Was he in a relationship with anyone?"

Nico thought about Elle. But she had said they weren't together in that way.

"No, not to my knowledge. Why do you ask?"

"The trajectory of the hit Nicolai sustained, has him in a seated position, with his assailant straddling him."

"Like a lover?"

"Precisely. He had no defensive wounds on his hands, so he did not fear his assailant, nor was he expecting the attack."

"And the weapon?"

"Small, bat-like in construction, but jeweled. We found these in his head wound."

A diamond and a ruby were in the small glass specimen jar the officer held up.

Nico jumped up.

"So it's related to the palace? This is a lot to take in."

"I completely understand. If you can get me the names of your students so we can compile more info and I will contact the King. We need access to the palace to investigate further. The weapon is probably something that was stolen from the Crown's own Jewels collection."

"I will have the names of my students to you first thing tomorrow."

Nico had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that the names were not needed.

He sat in his vehicle and pulled out his wallet. He wanted to be wrong. He needed to be wrong.

He pulled out the bills in his wallet. He had a 50 and on the back of it was the King and Queen of Cordonia. Liam standing regally in the middle, Queen Riley holding the ceremonial Ruby Apple in her hand, and Elle posing with her bejeweled royal scepter….in her LEFT HAND.

Elle was also left handed like her mother and father.

Nico picked up his phone, hesitating a few moments before he sent the text. Sending the text meant he suspected Elle of this crime.

Nico: I know we haven't been on speaking terms in a while, but I really need a favor.

Alana: Must be huge because you're coming to me, but you know I got you. What do you need, my dear Nico KH?"

Nico: Luminol spray.

Alana: Whaaat? Going all CSI- Cordonia on the palace? Swing by later. I'll hook you up with what you need.

After picking up the spray he went back to the palace to further investigate.

Being a Centurion Guard allowed him access to all the palace keypads. Nico went to the Crown Jewelry room. It housed all the crown jewels of Cordonia and all the historic ceremonial pieces.

He found Elle's scepter with the ceremonial pieces. He took out his magnifying glass to investigate the jewels on the scepter for missing jewels. It did not take him long to find the empty sockets that at one time held the jewels the investigator had acquired from Nicolai's head wound. He was pretty sure he was holding the item that had been used in conjunction with the fall to end his son's life.

Nico took a deep breath, the last part was only for formality. He dimmed the lights in the room to spray the luminol on the scepter; It immediately lit up blue. Proof that there was still residual blood on the scepter.

Was anything she said to him even true? Eleanor Rys, his Elle, the woman he loved .....

had murdered his son....

Liam and Tomas

"King Liam, Just like with your father's rule we have always had friends of the Crown amongst the police. To let the crown know of potential threats….or if a member of the Crown is in a situation in which damage control needs to occur to protect the crown."

"Yes?"

"There is something you really need to see."

Liam looked over the reports the officer had sent over, including the size and shape of the jewels that were pulled from Nicolai's head wounds. He recognized the jewels immediately from Ellie's Royal scepter.

"This can't be."

"That's why I brought the information to you, and only to you, Your Majesty. This has the potential to be quite the scandal for the royal family."

Liam rubbed his forehead and took a deep breath. He had to confirm the jewels were from where he suspected before he would take the next steps.

Elle and Nico

"I have a surprise for you."

Elle's face brightened as she smiled.

"Really?"

"Will you come with me?"

Nico reached out his hand for her to take; Elle immediately took Nico's hand.

"Where are we going?"

"To a place where our lives are going to change forever." He could tell Elle was excited so he played along.

Nico led her through the passageways.

"The Crown Jewelry Room?"

"But don't you understand Elle?"

She shook her head no, and she still had a smile on her face.

"Let me explain, for you Elle, I became an accessory after the fact to the perfect crime. I corrected your mistakes, so that you would not be pointed to as a person of interest in the death of your professor and because of me, you're not."

Finally, her smile had faded.

"We were protecting each other, Nico. I protected you, and you protected me."

Nico laughed.

"You were protecting yourself Elle, because that's all that matters to you."

"That's not true. I think of you, I think of others."

She had been thinking her baby needed its father, they both needed him.

"Were you thinking of me when you killed my son?"

"What?"

"Don't fucking address me in that shocked voice like you have no clue what I’m talking about. There are traces of blood on your scepter, and the jewels from it in his head wound."

Elle backed away from Nico.

"Was this just a game to you? To see how much suffering you could inflict on another... on me? Did you do this to hurt me?"

"No……."

“I fell right in your trap, to be seduced and manipulated by you. I was lonely and hurt, and in pain, and you used that for your benefit. I should have trusted my initial instincts about you. That you were a snake in the grass and could not be trusted.”

“You don’t really mean that Nico.”

“Oh yes I do.”

Nico took steps towards her. Finally Elle's back hit the wall.

"Nico please… there’s something I need to tell you that you really need to know.”

He closed the distance between them staring deep into her eyes.

“My God you’re beautiful. Part of me can't even fathom that someone so aesthetically beautiful, can be capable of such heinous crimes. Even now, there's fire in me that craves to be quenched only by you.

You’re just like your mother. And I wondered how in the world King Liam couldn’t see it either. But I know exactly what you are now. You are a siren, Eleanor Rys. You know what Sirens do right? They’re gorgeous, dangerous creatures that lure men with their enchanting voices and feminine wiles to their demise. Your father can’t see your mother for who she really is, because she’s got him enchanted by her song. You lured my son to Rys Lake where you murdered him, and now you’ve captured me in your web to cover up another murder.”

“It wasn’t like that…”

“IT WAS EXACTLY LIKE THAT.” Nico screamed.

“Even now you’re protecting your lies, with those crocodile tears falling from your eyes. I’m not falling for it.”

He gently stroked her cheek.

“I am going to give you the opportunity, to come clean, before I expose you for what you are. Tell me the truth. Because I want to hear you say it. Did you take my son’s life?”

Elle remained silent.

Nico grabbed her, pushing her to the floor.

He settled on top of her staring down at her.

“Tell me the truth Eleanor. Tell me your truth Elle. Don’t you think I deserve that, since I loved you so unconditionally?”

He stroked her cheek gently again, his hands drifting lower until they rested on her neck, wrapping tightly around it.

She gasped in shock, her eyes met Nico's, seeing nothing but fury for her in them.

Nico tightened his grip around Ellie's neck.

She clawed at his hands trying to get him to release her from his grip. She was wounding him and he wasn't even flinching. She could barely breathe or speak.

"Nico, please….. don't kill me. You'll regret it."

"Did you kill Nicolai?" His eyes filled with tears as he looked down on her. Tears fell down his cheeks as his voice turned into a soft whisper full of disbelief and shock. "Elle tell me….did you kill my son?"

She looked in his eyes, he was begging for the truth and she wanted to be honest with him.

"Yes. I killed him.. I'm sorry… but I had to find out….."

Finally a sob escaped his lips for a moment when he looked away from her. When he glanced down at her again, rage fueled his glare.

"So what was all of this Elle? You and I? You seduced me to help you when you needed, and I fell right for it. I helped you cover up a murder, and now I'm finding out, it wasn’t the first one?!?! How could you do this to me, when all I ever wanted to do was love you?"

"No Nico it was more… we were more…. WE ARE MORE. I love… "

"LIAR! I don't believe you. I've seen how well you can lie before." Nico screamed and his grip on her neck became crushing as she continued to try to fight him, her face turning bright red.

"Any last words?"

Ellie nodded.

"Please let me live Nico."

"Why should I, when you didn't give my son that courtesy?"

"Because if you kill me now, you will kill your child."

"What?"

"I'm pregnant Nico, I just found out not long after Christmas. Your mother was the first to suspect, because I got sick while I was there on holiday. I didn't know how to tell you."

He let go of her.

"My mother… You jumped off a damn waterfall pregnant?!?!?"

"I did it for you!! I did it for us! We could still go Nico… We could start over. You love me. You made promises to me."

"You really think…you are sick. I was wrong about you. You are just like your real father. YOU ARE A MONSTER!!!!"

Those words she had thought about herself, hit her differently coming from him. They physically cut through her heart. Elle burst into tears.

"What the hell is going on in here?!?" King Liam walked into the room staring from Nico to Ellie. But deep down he knew. Nico was confronting Eleanor. Nico released his grip and both stood before the King.

"Tell him the truth or I will."

"This is the only truth you need Nico, is I really love you. We're going to have a baby together. Please let's just leave like we said we would."

"I want a paternity test."

"You were the only one I've ever…." She stopped talking when she saw the look on her father's face.

“I DON’T BELIEVE YOU!!!!” Nico screamed at her.

King Liam was staring between the two in shock.

"I trusted you with her!!!! You've been sleeping with my daughter?!?"

Nico laughed.

"ME FUCKING ELEANOR IS THE LEAST OF YOUR WORRIES, CAN'T YOU TELL, KING LIAM?"

Before Nico could even react, King Liam punched him in the face.

Liam hit him again and again, and began kicking him when he collapsed. Nico did not strike back, as he knew striking the King meant death. Nico could fight, but he was letting himself get beat to a bloody mess for her.

"Father stop! Now!!! Stop hurting him Please!!!! You're going to kill him!!!!"

Elle ran forward grabbing Liam from behind.

"Eleanor what the hell are you doing?"

She jumped onto his back, and wrapped her arm around Liam's neck in a choke hold.

"You will not hurt him anymore!" Elle screamed.

Nico watched from the floor in shock seeing the lack of emotion in Elle's eyes as her grip tightened around Liam's neck, and that she was trying to protect him.

Liam winced in pain, his voice remained calm as he spoke.

"Baby Love, please let go. You know I could throw you easily, but I don't want to hurt you or your unborn child. And I can tell how important they are to you."

"You have no idea." Her grip tightened on his throat.

"Yes I do, because I have four children that I witnessed being born into this world."

"You're wrong. You only have three."

"No. YOU’RE WRONG. I have four children. Don't make me do this Baby Love. I don't want to hurt either of you. Because you are my daughter and I love you. You are MINE!!!!! I have always loved you, regardless of your DNA."

Elle’s grip remained firm around his neck; she was not letting go of him.

Liam began to adjust his stance, he was preparing to throw her.

When her father spoke again, his voice was full of pain; he sounded on the verge of tears. He was pleading for her to stop.

“Please…..don’t make me do this to you Baby Love.”

Nico, who was barely conscious, sat up trying to talk her down.

"Elle….don't do this. Let go of your father."

"Baby Love please, I don't want to hurt you."

Elle let go of King Liam.

There were tears in his eyes as he rubbed his neck, looking at Eleanor.

“Why?” he asked.

“Why not?” Eleanor’s voice was cold.

“I can’t count on anyone. People make promises every day they don’t mean. And leave you alone to pick up the pieces.”

“Don’t make this about you. You know what you did Elle.”

Nico stood, and his gaze landed on Elle. "Tell him the truth about you, and what you've done."

Elle remained silent.

"TELL HIM!!!!"

"I killed Nicolai Karahalios, and Professor Anders."

"Why would you do that Ellie?"

"I hear voices telling me to do things. And Professor Anders was going to tell you about Nico and I and I had to protect us."

"You went on that trip with her, did you know what Eleanor did?"

Eleanor answered for Nico.

"No Father, he did not. Nico was not involved in any way. He did nothing wrong or illegal."

Liam stared at his daughter, he could not tell if what she was saying was the truth, or only the truth as she believed it, so he focused his attention on Nico. Then Liam could clearly see, Nico's eyes were riddled with guilt.

"Be that as it may Nico you’re fired. Effective immediately."

“I still want to press charges against Eleanor for my son’s murder.”

“She’s not well.”

“I. DON’T. CARE.”

“Yes you do Nico you love me."

“I told you Eleanor… I tried to warn you.”

“Shut up… SHUT UP!!! SHUT UP!!!!” Elle screamed.

She collapsed to the floor in front of them. They could tell that she wasn’t screaming at them. Eleanor was hallucinating.

"Eleanor…" Liam reached out his hand to her.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" She screamed, recoiling from Liam, knocking his hand away. She curled up in a ball on the floor while she cried.

“Look at her, it's clear some psychotic break has happened. She needs help. She needs to be hospitalized tonight. It’s clear, she’s not in her right mind Nico. And you know, I believe if someone does something wrong, they should be held accountable for their crimes. My daughter is mentally ill. Look at her.”

“She killed my son.”

“And she needs medical treatment for her mental illness, not a prison. We need to get her to the SUV now.”

“Your Majesty…..”

“Is she right? Do you still love her?”

“She killed my son…” Nico repeated again.

“That’s not what I asked. If you ever loved my daughter, you will help me now.”

Nico walked over to Elle and crouched next to her, wincing in pain. King Liam had definitely broke a rib or two. He gently ran his fingers through Elle's hair. She responded and leaned into his touch.

"Elle, are you ready to go?"

"Nico? You're not mad at me anymore?"

"I'm sorry I yelled at you. You were right about everything. Are you ready to leave?”

“Right now? But I haven’t packed anything yet.”

Nico smiled. “It’s okay. We’ll have everything we need when we get there.”

“And we’ll start over. I knew we could do it.”

“Yes, we’ll start over Elle. Let me help you up.”

He pulled Elle up and she threw her arms around him hugging him.

“I knew it. I knew I could trust you. I’ll be better. I promise, I’ll try harder for you and the baby.”

“Don’t worry about that right now.”

“I’m so tired, Nico.” Elle leaned into him.

“I’ll carry you. You just rest. I’ll wake you when we get there.”

Nico picked up Elle and she rested her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes.

"Just rest Elle." He whispered softly to her.

Liam had made the arrangements, and they left for the psychiatric hospital. Liam wanted to be the one with Ellie. Ellie was his Baby Love, but she wanted nothing to do with him.

Nico sat in back holding Eleanor in his arms; Liam occasionally glanced in the rear view mirror. Nico looked like a truly tortured soul.

She was sleeping peacefully wrapped in his embrace. Tears filled his eyes as he stared down at her. He still felt love in heart for this woman who had committed an absolutely atrocious crime against his son. To add insult to injury, they were forever bound together by a child they had conceived. Nico had thrown doubt in her face when given the news of the pregnancy, questioning paternity. But deep down he knew. Elle was with child. His child. He gently brushed her curls from her face, her cheeks still wet with tears. Nico wiped her tears away.

There was no doubt Nico still loved her despite everything. One can't just turn off their feelings.

The vehicle slowed to a stop just inside the gates.

"We're here."

He gently shook Elle and she woke. He went to the other side to open the door. She smiled at him, but the moment she saw the medical staff surrounding the vehicle, she looked confused.

"What is this? Why aren't we at the airport Nico?"

"You need help Elle."

She pulled away from him.

"I told you…. he could never see you the same way he did after he found out what you did."

"NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!! I'm not crazy!! I'm not!!! You lied to me Nico! How could you!!!! I promised I'd do better if we started over. You won't give me the chance? Why?? You know how I feel… You're the only one that truly knows me. How could you betray me this way?"

"Let's talk about betrayal… you….."

"Nico don't say it here please."

Nico stopped speaking, staring around seeing the small group of staff that had gathered around them, that also had a gurney.

He was still protecting her. Both him and her father.

"Nico… let's go please. I forgive you. I understand Father is making you do this, of course he would. You can stand up to him. He can't stand in our way. We can go. Please let’s go."

"No Elle, he's not making me do anything. You're not well. This is where you need to be."

"NO! YOU'RE LYING!! WHY ARE YOU LYING TO ME????”

“I’m not lying to you Elle. You’re not well. Here they can help you.”

"You stood up for me. It's supposed to be us. You PROMISED!!!!"

Elle reached in the folds of her dress pulling out a slim stiletto, a gift from Olivia.

She lunged at Nico, but it wasn’t an attack he could tell.

“YOU PROMISED ME……”

“MY GOD ELEANOR STOP!!!” Liam screamed.

Elle’s eyes widened, and she dropped the stiletto; the sound of it clinking as it hit the ground.

Her eyes met with Nico.

“Our House….” Elle whimpered.

Nico gasped remembering their conversation that night about the little house that Elle wanted to share with him in Greece. Tears filled his eyes as he caught her as she collapsed; the sedative that the nurse had given Elle in her arm while her back was turned, was very fast acting. Nico laid Elle onto the gurney; Immediately the nurses locked Elle’s arms and legs in restraints.

“Is that really necessary?” Liam asked.

“She’s clearly a danger to herself, and to others; it’s proper protocol. We will search her for other weapons as soon as we get her inside. We have some questions to ask you King Liam before you leave, will you come with us?”

“Yes. Nico, I need you to come with me, as there might be some questions only you can answer.”

Nico nodded, following behind King Liam into the psychiatric hospital.

#bebepac writes #the rotten apple #choices fanfiction #trh fanfic #trh fandom #evil ellie rys #evil drake #elle x nico #choices fic writers creations #play choices

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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 4 years ago

Text

Civilian

Character: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Summary: Jason Todd is used to saving the innocent. But he’s not used to them saving him.

Word Count: 3,100 – One Shot

“Fuck me,” Jason groaned as he stumbled across the rooftops.

How he was able to even walk right now was beyond him.

He had Slade on the ropes. Just one more punch to put him off balance and Jason would’ve shoved a knife into his jugular and be done with him. But Slade had a few more tricks up his sleeve and decided to flee instead of finish a losing battle, so he ran like a coward.

It left Jason utterly irritated and with a huge gash in his side, amongst other various injuries.

He could’ve called one his “friends” or someone in his “family.” But he was stubborn. He wanted to be stronger than that. He wanted to prove that he didn’t need any of them. He was better than that. He was the best. And he’d risk bleeding out to prove it to them – or really…himself.

But his body wasn’t on the same page.

And it finally had enough.

Jason stumbled to his knees on a rooftop. He groaned as his vision became hazy.

His helmet had a protective system in place so no one could take it off if he was unconscious. They’d get a nice little shock if they tried. His identity would be safe even if someone stumbled upon his injured body… or corpse.

Jason managed to roll onto his back and was met with the smoggy Gotham sky.

“Get the fuck up,” he told himself aloud.

He blinked, trying to straighten and clear his vision.

But it was useless.

The last thing Jason remember seeing was the Bat signal reflecting off of the cloudy sky. Somewhere in the city, there was more crime to fight and he’d just be another asshole who thought he could put a stop to it.

Dying didn’t scare Jason anymore. He’d done it once before, and he could do it again. What did it matter now anyway?

But Jason didn’t die.

He woke up on a couch. Well, if one could even call it that. His 6’4 frame could barely fit on the thing. His legs were hanging off the end, not able to comfortably fit on the thing.

His head felt like it was having the worse hangover of his life. When he opened his eyes, he blinked at the incoming sunlight. Then he realized he wasn’t looking through the programming of his Red Hood helmet.

Then he touched his face to realize that his backup domino mask had also been removed, leaving his identity exposed.

His eyes widened in slight panic as he looked around.

He appeared to be a in a small apartment – normal, no threats detected.

Then Jason looked down to realize he wasn’t in his uniform. In fact, his chest was bare and he was only in his black briefs. His autopsy scars on full display.

But just half a foot away from him, his clothes were neatly folded into a pile on the edge of the coffee table. His two guns were sitting right next to them.

Whoever had brought him here clearly didn’t see him as a threat. Stupid on their part. There were about two dozen other weapons hiding in the crevices of his clothes too.

But the more concerning thing was that Jason didn’t have a single wound on his body. The giant gash to his side that had made him faint and nearly die from blood loss was nowhere to be found. After all these years, Jason was still figuring out the side effects from being dumped into the Lazarus pit. But this couldn’t be related, could it?

Suddenly there was the sound of the apartment door opening.

On instinct alone, Jason shot up, grabbed one of his guns, and found his target.

What he wasn’t expecting to find was a beautiful woman, probably only just a little bit younger than him, standing with a coffees in a carrier tray and a bag in the other hand. She had earbuds in, further disorienting her from such a welcome. Her eyes went wide and the rest of her body was completely frozen.

After a few seconds, she slowly tugged her headphones out.

“Is the gun really necessary?” She asked.

But Jason could tell from her body language that she was scared.

“Who the hell are you?”

She had enough courage to glare at his tone. “I’m the person who saved your life, asshole.”

“Yeah? And how exactly did you do that?”

She seemed to be getting less scared and more angry with every sentence Jason said.

“If you put the fucking gun down, I’ll tell you.”

Jason hesitated before finally putting it down. Then his behavior caught up to him. Here was this stranger, who was clearly innocent and had helped him…and his first thought was to point a gun at the poor thing.

“Sorry,” he finally gasped. “It’s…a habit.”

She just eyed him, neither rejecting or accepting his apology.

She sat on the love seat opposite of the couch that he’d taken over.

With an innocent look, she slowly put a coffee cup on the table and the bag.

“I’m not much of a cook… so I picked up breakfast. It’s just a black coffee. I figured you didn’t like anything fancy.”

“T-Thank you,” he stuttered out, trying his best not to sound harsh.

Those words were strange coming out of his mouth. And Jason couldn’t figure out if it was because he’d completely lost his manners or there wasn’t anything someone had done for him lately that warranted any sort of thanks.

“I’m sorry about taking off your clothes,” she suddenly said. “I would’ve given you something. But…well…I don’t have anything even close to your size. Even my oversized clothing wouldn’t have fit.”

Jason was about to tell her it was OK, but she continued.

“Not that I would’ve even been able to put it on you. I hardly got your clothes off.”

Jason smirked at that. “Speaking of which, how the hell did you get my helmet off.”

“Yeah…I managed to get you to come to for a minute or so.” Then she shifted in her seat, clutching her coffee tighter as if it was a security blanket. “I honestly just asked you very nicely. I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone what you looked like. You were kind of just…a zombie or something and…took it off.”

Then he took her stature in. Jason knew he was a big guy. He was bigger than the majority of men. He’d only met a few women in his life that were taller than him, and they were all either Amazons or aliens.

This young woman was neither of those things.

“How did you get me off that roof?”

She laughed, seeing that he was trying to add it up in his head. “I’m definitely no Superman. My neighbor doesn’t have any other hobbies besides going to the gym. He owed me a favor.” Then her eyes widened. “Don’t worry, he didn’t see you without your helmet. He’s also sworn to secrecy.”

Jason shrugged. “It’s fine if he did. I can just kill him later.”

He saw her whole body tense up at that.

“Relax. I’m kidding.”

Her tension was released, but she didn’t find his joke very funny.

Then her eyes locked to the floor.

Jason took this chance to study her.

Her hair was a bit of a mess. But there was still a halo around it as the sun shined from behind her. Her jeans were a bit baggy, but purposely so. She was wearing a band t-shirt that was so worn that there were a few holes in it.

Jason had to acknowledge that she was beautiful. But he had made note of that as soon as he’d pointed a gun at her.

“I ended last night with a life-threatening injury…amongst other things,” Jason said as he looked down at his body. “I woke up with not even a scratch on me. So why don’t you tell me how the hell that’s possible?”

She finally raised her gaze from the floor to him. Then she swallowed and clenched her jaw. It was clear she had been hoping for a scenario where Jason didn’t ask any questions, where he would just give his thanks and move on.

But she wasn’t that lucky.

“Hey,” he said gently. “You’ve seen my face. You know who I am now. Whatever it is you’re scared to tell me, we’ll be even.”

She stared at him a bit longer before taking in a shaky breath. “I…umm…can do this thing.”

“Uh huh,” he encouraged.

“I can heal people by…umm…touching them?”

Jason sat back, letting the information settle. “Huh,” he said with small nod.

“I saved your life,” she told him. “All I ask in return is that you keep my secret.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” he told her.

She nodded nervously, but didn’t seem fully convinced.

“What’s your name?” He asked her softly.

She looked unsure if she should tell him.

“I’m Jason. Jason Todd.” He offered to even the playing field.

She tilted her head, probably because she heard that name before. Everyone in Gotham had at some point. The tragic death of Bruce Wayne’s second adopted son. And then the dead son who had somehow come back, his death misidentified. There were hundreds of rumors about what really happened. But they all sounded ridiculous to her.

“Y/N,” she finally told him.

“Thank you for saving my life, Y/N.” He scratched the back of his neck. “But I have to ask why you did.”

After all, the neighborhood she lived in was weary of Gotham’s vigilantes. Some believed they were keeping them safe, while others thought they were just making things worse. It led to a general distrust of the masked heroes.

“They say the Red Hood used to be Robin,” she told him quietly.

“I don’t pay attention to what people say…”

Y/N leaned forward. “But is it true? Were you Robin back then?”

Jason ground his teeth together. “That was a lifetime ago.”

She watched him for a minute, working out whether she wanted to share something or not.

“When I was a little girl, I was at the bank with my mom when a robbery went down. Things went bad and quick. They panicked, decided a little girl was the best hostage to grab. We barely got a few blocks away before Batman intervened. I was terrified, even of him. But Robin was with him…and he could tell I was scared. He wasn’t that much older than me, but he was so much braver. He held my hand until the police came. But even then I wouldn’t let go of him. So, he stayed with me until my mom got there.” She took in a deep and shaky breath. “It meant a lot to me.”

Jason controlled his expression, but he knew what she was talking about. He remembered that night. How he did was beyond him. But it didn’t feel long ago. He remembered thinking the little girl was pretty.

Jason didn’t have a lot of friends back then. He came from the streets but lived in a mansion. He couldn’t figure out who he was back then. And it was hard to relate to other children.

Back then, it was the most intimate interaction he had with someone his age.

“Would you still have saved me last night even if I hadn’t been Robin?”

This was all Y/N would get in terms of Jason admitting that he had been Robin that night.

Y/N shrugged and nodded. Then she cleared her throat. “The only thing saving this shit hole of a city is people doing the right thing.”

Jason stood.

The motion startled Y/N and she followed his action without even meaning to.

Now that he was standing on his own two feet, she truly understood just how absolutely massive he was. She was by no means short and she still felt like she was looking at a giant.

However, Jason misread her gawking for something else. “You don’t have to be scared of me, kid. I’m not going to hurt you,” he told her quietly.

“I’m not scared of you,” she said as her face suddenly felt hot.

Y/N didn’t know what she had expected to see under that red helmet last night. But she definitely wasn’t expecting a man handsome enough to be a model.

But then her brow scrunched, “And I’m not a kid.” Jason smiled – like, genuinely smiled. The muscles on his face forgot what that felt like.

He eyed the band t-shirt she was wearing: Fleetwood Mac – the Rumors album, to be precise.

“You’ve got good taste in music,” Jason complimented.

“Thank you,” Y/N mumbled.

A new tension filled the air.

Something neither of them have felt in awhile – if at all.

Y/N cleared her throat again, starting to feel too close to this large and beautiful man who was only standing in his briefs.

“You can use the shower if you want.”

Jason smirked. “Thanks, but I should get out of your hair. You’ve already done enough for me.”

He took a step toward her, realizing that he seemed to like seeing her reaction to his presence.

She stayed in place, but shifted her weight.

Jason lowered his head a bit. “Your secret is safe with me, Y/N. Thank you again…you saved my life.”

——————

Y/N and Jason couldn’t stop thinking about one another since that morning.

Jason had trust issues. And because of those trust issues, he learned not to rely on others. He refused to be anything besides independent. But those flaws were also the reason it was so hard for him to get close to anyone. He kept people at a distance so he could never be rejected or get his heart broken. It was problematic, but that was how he survived.

But Y/N had shown him kindness and then expected absolutely nothing in return. She just hoped he wouldn’t shoot her brains out when he finally came to.

Meanwhile, Y/N couldn’t remember the last time a man looked at her the way Jason had. Just thinking about the looks he gave her caused goosebumps to shiver across her skin. She’d seen the scars across his skin and knew he’d lived a rough life. And that wasn’t even including the scars his mind and heart held. She wondered who was the last person to help him or to just show him that they cared whether he lived or died.

It had been a few weeks and Y/N still couldn’t get Jason Todd out of her mind. Even now, as she sat on the rooftop of her building once again, eating a pizza she’d just picked up and washing it down with cheap red wine.

She almost spilled said wine all over herself when she jumped from the sound of someone dropping onto the roof from behind her.

Y/N whipped around to see Red Hood walking steadily toward her.

“Sorry. I tried to be loud so I wouldn’t scare you.” His voice sounded different from the helmet distorting it.

“Well, most people use doors and stairs…so I think the effort is pretty useless.”

Jason ignored her joke and pulled out a thick envelope that had been tucked on the inside of his leather jacket.

He handed it to her.

Y/N was confused, but took it from his grasp anyway.

She opened it to find two tickets to see Fleetwood Mac on their reunion tour at Gotham City Stadium.

Her gaze shot up to Jason’s and then she did a double take at the tickets, making sure she wasn’t seeing things.

“How - What - Why?” She finally sputtered out the right question.

Jason just shrugged. “I owed you.”

“T-This is too much. I can’t accept this. These tickets must’ve cost a fortune,” she told him as she tried to hand the envelop back to him.

But he wasn’t having it and simply shook his head.

Y/N knew they cost a fortune because she had looked up tickets. Her heart had broken when she saw how far out of her budget the lowest prices were.

“Take them, Y/N. Please.”

She knew there was no point in arguing.

But she slowly looked up at him. “Would…ummm… Would you like to go with me?”

Jason blinked at the offer. “Seriously?”

Y/N laughed at his surprise. “Yeah, I mean, clearly you’re a fan, too.” Then she shrugged, now self conscious that she’d been too forward. “I don’t know. When was the last time you did something fun?”

Jason was shocked at how right she was.

“Oh, my God!” Y/N suddenly yelped.

Jason immediately jumped into action, grabbing both of his guns and stepping to Y/N in a protective stance.

“Jason, you’re bleeding!” She cried out, not realizing that he had just used his body as a human shield for her to defend an attack that wasn’t even happening.

He relaxed and followed her gaze to his forearm – the small patch of skin between his gloves and the rolled up sleeve of his leather jacket. He had been sliced by a knife. He probably needed to clean it before it got infected and stitch it up.

“Y/N, it’s just a scratch.”

“Shut up,” she snapped. “Come here.”

Then he let her dragged him to the two fold-out chairs she kept on the roof.

Jason realized suddenly that he didn’t mind being bossed around by this woman. In fact, he kind of enjoyed it.

Without asking for permission, Y/N put her palm over his cut.

Jason watched as he felt a comforting warmth wash over the area of skin that she was touching. Within seconds, his cut was completely gone.

Y/N gave it a satisfied smile. No matter how many injuries she healed, the pride and relief never went away.

“You’re fucking amazing, you know that?” Jason was relieved his helmet hid the dumbstruck look that was surely on his face.

Y/N didn’t seem to take the compliment very well and slightly folded into herself.

“So, will you?” She changed the subject quickly.

“Will I what?” But as Jason asked for clarification, he knew that he’d probably do anything Y/N would ask of him.

“Will you go to the concert with me?”

He nodded.

The nonverbal answer was enough for Y/N because she gave him a beaming smile.

In that moment, Jason wondered how he could ever push Y/N away like he had done with everyone else in his life.

And for once, he allowed himself to feel happy.

Maybe he could keep letting himself be happy, as long as it included Y/N.

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

Really, really loving writing for Jason Todd. I was a little exhausted with Marvel fandom. Let me know what you think!

#jason todd #jason todd fic #jason todd one shot #red hood #red hood fic #red hood one shot #jason todd reader insert #red hood reader insert #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #batman universe #batman characters #jason todd fluff #red hood fluff

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scandalsavagefanfic · 3 years ago

Note

Hello! I am a huge fan of ur writing. I've loved everything I've read of yours. I've read alot of what you've posted, except for a couple of the tags that are squicky for me (so I'm very thankful you tag very thoroughly). No judgement for the squick, it's just not for me. & when I'm having a bad day, I usually just go thru ur ao3 and find something to reread. I think about Therapy's Bruce & Jason every damn day. While I obvs appreciate ur darker more "problematic" content (I really vibe with some of the themes you write about bc of my own trauma, & so it's very cathartic to read about in a fictional setting), I am truly a sucker for ur more happy content. The Happily Ever After verse also lives in my head rent free. Idk more wholesome stuff just seems more special when you write it. Anyways. I would die for you. But the point of this ask is cause I'm curious as to why you don't like Urban Legends? I'm sorry if you already talked about it here or on twitter and I missed it. I was just wondering because I really enjoy your take on things and would love to hear why you dislike it. I've been enjoying it so far personally, but I am always open to DC comics criticism.

Aw thank you so much! I'm so flattered by everything you just said. You're so sweet ❤❤❤❤❤

I haven't talked about Urban Legends here or twitter (I haven't been very active in either place lately. Just a lot going on and no energy 😔) but I'm happy to do it here.

Before I start though, I just want to add a standard disclaimer and make it clear that if you like it, there's nothing wrong with that and you don't have to let me ruin it for you lol. Like what you like.

That said, since you asked...

I said this when I was talking about it on discord, that there is a difference between hope and expectation. I always hope that a new story centered on Jason (or anyone really, but things have been especially egregious for Jay for 15 years) will be good or at least treat the character with a minimal level of respect (to be honest, the bar is super fucking low). But my expectations always temper my hope, to keep it from getting unrealistic. Because my expectations are based on experience.

The long history of Jason Todd, since even before his resurrection, has been one of retroactively trying to make him "a bad seed" in order to absolve Bruce of any responsibility in his death.

I don't even expect DC or their writers to start honoring the fact that Jason was not an angry, reckless Robin (and less of the later than Dick or Tim and definitely Damian). There plenty of ways that retcon can be folded into his history and be compelling and sympathetic. And if they're going to stick with that retcon, I'm only asking that they do it in one of those compelling and sympathetic ways because Jason was 15 when he died, heroically, in one of the most selfless acts in comics, to save a woman who literally handed him over to be brutally murdered. He was 12 when Bruce plucked him off the streets, he'd been homeless and fending for himself for at least two years. I personally think that Jason's story hits harder for him and Bruce if their original, canon relationship, of Jason as starry-eyed and eager to learn and absolutely devoted to Bruce and Bruce to Jason, is preserved. But Jason's origins does leave room for a meaningful interpretation of him as angry and frustrated at the lack of meaningful results of Bruce's methods.

And that's really where my irritation at stories like Batman: Urban Legends, Cheer and Batman The Adventure Continues has it's roots.

Every time one of these stories comes out, I think (or hope, rather) that this will be the one that remembers and respects the origins of the Jason and the Red Hood, that takes into account the changed sensibilities of comics readers in the 30 years since Jason's death and the subtle, 20 year, retroactive campaign to make him the "bad Robin". The "born bad" trope is played out and literally no one likes the message it implies. That some kids are just bad eggs and there's nothing parents or the adults around them can do. Especially when it's played as the kid's fault. If Jason's time as Robin is going to be characterized by anger, then it should be rooted in anger at the social injustices he witnessed as he grew up in an impoverished, crime-ridden, area and the horrors he faced raising himself when every day was a battle for survival. There are topical, meaningful, stories to tell with that backdrop.

But those are never the stories we get.

⚠⚠ Spoilers for Batman: Urban Legends, Cheer ⚠⚠

I'm particularly disappointed in Urban Legends because for the first issue, it looked like that was the kind of story we were going to get. I was put off by the first flashback of Jason being mesmerized by Bruce's guns, and I got that feeling in my gut that it was a bad sign. Jason depicted as impatient and overconfident and the scene with the guns is heavy-handed foreshadowing that got my spidey-sense tingling. I had a inkling then (in the first three pages) of how this story was going to play out, but it was early and I could still see many narrative paths that could lead to a satisfying story. My concerns were soothed somewhat and the little flame of my hope fanned, with the flashback of Alfred scolding Bruce, with Barbara's concern for Jason. A bit of worry returned with the way Jason ruthlessly pursued an addict who didn't appear to be a dealer and with the ending of the issue. The stuff with the addict sat wrong with me but the ending was tempered some by how despicable Tyler's dad was written. The scene was clearly set so that the reader could sympathize with Jason's decision and the scene with the addict could be brushed aside as a side-effect of comics over-the-top need for constant action, so I still held hope.

Issue 2 made me uncomfortable and it's where my hope starts to take a backseat to my expectations. I can dismiss Jason's self-deprecating internal monologue as unreliable narration, except that the flashback reinforces his thought process to explicitly show that it's not unreliable narration, and should be taken at face value. Jason faces physical abuse at the hands of his mother's drug dealer and when the flashback continues later, Jason kills the drug dealer. To be clear, this is a pre-Bruce Jason. His mom is still alive. He's like... 10. He kills this guy for shoving his head into a wall and implying Jason's mother paid for her drugs with sex. This is a scene that serves a single purpose. To show that Jason has always been prone to violence.

In the spirit of full disclosure, there is the small chance the drug dealer might not be dead. But the story obviously wants the reader to think he is, and it hasn't done anything to change that yet.

Starlin already did this story with The Diplomat’s Son in 1988 and he did it infinitely better. AND that’s still technically canon. So now I’m supposed to believe that Jason lost his cool bad enough to kill two douche bags before his sweet 16? Like it’s totally normal for abused kids raised in poverty, who’ve led hard and heartbreaking lives to just... haul off and kill people? That’s bullshit, and when taken with the Jason in the third issue, who is little more than an idiot thug, this story is really doubling down on some fucked up stereotypes.

Which brings us to the most recent issue. I went into this installment with very low expectations. I thought this story was going to be about Jason, through this experience with Tyler, a young boy with a similar background to Jason's, coming to the realization that Bruce's way is the best way and that Bruce did his best by Jason.

That would be annoying (in no small part because it takes increasingly absurd levels of plot armor to keep Bruce's no kill rule relevant, let alone irrefutably right). But I can probably live with that, if only because maybe if Jason officially falls back into line with the Bats crusade, maybe I'll get stories that treat him with respect, stories that don't relegate him to comic relief, dumb brute, or a background body with no lines in a story about the Joker burning Gotham (like Jason would just fucking stand there quietly for that).

And that may still be where the story is going, Jason realizing Bruce is right.

But holy shit do I not have the right words to describe how fucking insulting and gross issue three is.

From start to finish--including the flashback--Jason is written as cruel and fucking stupid. Like straight up dumb.

The entire issue is Bruce explaining the fucking basics to Jason like it's his first day. And Jason flies off the fucking handle and terrorizes a doctor he knows isn't a part of making the Cheerdrops, beats the shit out of some random addicts, and finally, when he can't accomplish anything on his own because he's a dumb brute he calls Barbara for help and rushes in with no information where he's promptly incapacitated and must now wait to be rescued by Batman.

This panel is the least of the issues sins but I can’t screenshot the entire story but it’s representative of the tone for the whole issue (and retroactively tainted the prior two issues).

This is beyond insulting. The only conclusions Jason comes to in this issue are the ones Bruce leads him to by talking to him like he can’t make the simplest connections. And like... in this story Jason can’t make the simplest connections.

This (and the Jason throughout the entirety of this issue) is a far cry from the Jason we fell in love with in Under the Red Hood, who was competent and strategic and intelligent enough to seize control of Gotham’s underworld from Black Mask (who’s no fucking slouch, he’s the first and only person to unify organized crime in Gotham) AND elude and manipulate Bruce until the time and place of his choosing.

This is a far cry from even the Red Hood and the Outlaws Jason who is competent enough to fight the League of Shadows and Ra’s al Ghul (among very dangerous and skilled others) and smart enough to create antidotes for mind control nanotech viruses.

As he should be, by the way. Jason Todd is one of the best, most comprehensively trained fighters in DC’s stable of non powered vigilantes. He’s not irrational or hot headed. He’s pragmatic, tactically minded, and patient. He’s a detective. Right now. Has been since he was 12. Bruce doesn’t have to make him one because he already is.

Jason is not a stupid thug who uses his fists because his brain doesn’t work. And I can’t tell you how so very exhausted I am by this narrative.

This is actually the most egregious example of Jason’s skills and intelligence being not just undermined but dismissed entirely. Even Morrison’s Jason had some degree of competency.

The one, single redeeming factor of this story is the art. It’s beautiful. And Marcus To is a godsend he seems to be one of only a couple of artists who remember that Jason was a child when he was Robin and I’m literally only buying this book because of him.

Anyway, I’m sorry. I didn’t want that to come out so... um... passionately lol. I’m just very very tired. My intention with this isn’t to ruin it for you, if you like it, that’s fine.

But this issue shot this story to the top of my "Vehemently Despise” list. 1) Batman: Urban Legends (Cheer), 2) Battle for the Cowl/Morrison’s Batman and Robin, 3) Batman The Adventure Continues.

I hope the next issues somehow salvage this dumpster fire. But I’m not expecting it.

(Damnit. That sounded harsh again. To reiterate, I’m not trying to judge anyone who enjoys it, I just personally hate it and you asked me why lol 😅)

#Batman #red hood #batman: urban legends #nice art #shit story #or at least shit characterization #jason todd deserves better #this response got long and I didn't edit it #please forgive any errors #and/or unclear spots #spoilers

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avanalae · 2 years ago

Text

Green (Just Leave Me)

I wonder how many of you remember this. I wonder if this will even be seen. 🤔 So if any of you happen to remember this ‘verse, I have a surprise for you! An update!! (I know, holy shit.) Was going through my fic folder(s) bc I’m trying to write more after dealing with a ton of health crap that put a lot of my creative endeavors on hold. Saw this one. Thought about it. Decided to give it a shot. And here we are! 😃 It’s not long (tho I made an effort to make it as long as I could), but hopefully more will follow. Before another few years pass, at least. We’ll see.

If you check this out on AO3, you’ll see that the whole fic was updated. I went back and touched things up (considering just how long ago I started this fic…) but I’m only gonna update the AO3 version. So, check it out there if you’re gonna read it from the beginning. ☆

___

Title: Green Verse: Just Leave Me Fandom: DCU (Not DCnU! Turn your mind back in time with me) Character(s): Tim Drake, Ra’s al Ghul, Alfred, Jason, Bruce, Dick, Damian Pairing: None (for now 👀) Rating: G+ Wordcount: 2073 Warnings: Story-typical feels. Ra’s. 👀

_____

READ THIS ON AO3

Part 1 (AO3|T) ● Part 2 (AO3|T) ● Part 3 (AO3|T)

Ra’s rubs his thumb over the printed text on simple paper. “I see, so this was everything?” He glances over at the few things the ninjas brought with them, having taken them from the apartment under his instruction after they contacted him when they saw it dark. He’d been very curious after not hearing from his favorite menace for a while, and things seem to be much more interesting than he anticipated.

The paper simply says, “Goodbye.” It was left in the printer, seemingly just left there after having been printed. How unusual for the detective.

“There was evidence of something else, though. It was difficult to notice at first, but it seems the building was recently inhabited for a time by a…” his shadow hesitates, but quickly continues when Ra’s raises an eyebrow, “A cat, my lord.”

“A cat…”

The shadow nods, “After a thorough inspection, facts seem to line up in a way that makes it feasible that this cat might have been the one to shut down the building.”

Ra’s feels quite the spark of intrigue, “How fascinating. If this is the case, was my dear detective perhaps turned into a cat?”

“There shall be a report soon about recent villain attacks and altercations in Gotham very soon. I’ve sent several people to investigate.”

“Excellent,” Ra’s hums, “I will expect the Bats’ recent movements, as well.” The white shadow nods, and the ancient man can’t help but chuckle as he folds up the note. “I wonder what you’ve been up to, dear Timothy.”

Tim has been feeling uneasy, recently. He spends more time napping in the cave in the hopes of hearing anything that might explain this feeling, but nothing comes of it. There seems to be an increase in villain activity, but it’s not an unusual thing. Crime always picks up after the holidays, after all.

He considers taking a look himself, but he can’t talk himself into dealing with the sheer trouble it would be to even try.

So, Tim continues to enjoy his time with his family. He lets Dick hold him more often and listens as he complains about being so busy, dealing with both Gotham and Bludhaven. Damian isn’t one to complain, but Tim is more often allowed to stay with him when he spends time drawing in his room or tucked in different corners and windowsills. Alfred and Bruce don’t act much differently, but the one who stands out is Jason.

Right now, it’s another of his and Alfred’s tea-times. The rest of the family is out on patrol, which is what Jason prefers. They seem to be getting along alright these days, or at least seem to be tolerating each other, but Jason doesn’t seem very interested in mending bridges beyond that. Tim doesn’t blame him, even if he hopes they eventually can make amends.

Alfred is off making the tea while Jason makes himself comfortable in the little nook next to the kitchen. Tim is curled up on the table, even if he knows Alfred will be shooing him off when he comes back with the snacks. He’s too interested in enjoying the full-handed head rubs that Jason gives him. The older man chuckles and squishes his face, but it doesn’t hurt and isn’t too uncomfortable, so he just makes a grumpy noise. After another laugh, Jason releases him and returns to his gentler pets.

“You’re such an odd one, Sammers.” The only person he could imagine butchering the name “Salem” like this would be Jason. It’s ridiculous but Tim can’t bring himself to dislike it. “You’re almost as fun to tease as…” Tim is suddenly alert when Jason trails off, his face falling.

After a moment of Jason looking kind of dazed, Tim rubs his head against the unmoving hand. This gets his attention again, and he scratches behind soft ears. “Sorry, Sale. Lost it for a second there, didn’t I?” Tim licks his palm, hoping to encourage him to continue. “Just thinking about a brat that you haven’t met. Something was up and for some reason, I haven’t seen him in ages. I’m definitely not worried, but I am hella curious about what might have happened.”

Startled, Tim doesn’t know how to react to that. Unfortunately, Alfred appears before he can think it through, and he’s shooed off the table. Instead of sticking around, he wanders off in a daze.

Could Jason have been talking about Tim?

He wanders the house with no destination in mind. His mind won’t quiet down, and he does his best to sort it out as he pads down the halls. He wonders and thinks, but in the end he lets it go.

Perhaps if Jason had been more upfront about it, it would linger in his mind more. But the offhanded way he mentioned it and lack of information, he can’t hold onto it long. If it comes up again, maybe it’ll be something to think about.

But Tim is still tired, and he doesn’t want to deal with it. Doesn’t want to deal with any implication that might make his decision waver. He wants to avoid anything he can pass of as insubstantial or inconsequential so he can continue his life here.

He doesn’t want to doubt.

He just wants to live like this, now.

So, he lets the thought go, making his way down to the cave to nap on the computer until someone comes back from patrol.

Tim is sure he had been in the kitchen waiting for Alfred to come home with groceries. The man had promised him some salmon if he was patient and Tim was definitely willing to wait for such a treat. He’d never been very interested in fish before turning into a cat, preferring chicken or pork, but becoming a cat changes your priorities in more ways than you’d think.

For some reason, however, he seems to be waking up in an unfamiliar place. It’s colder, for one thing, and the surface he’s on is very soft, when he’s sure he’d dozed off on the table in a comfortable sunbeam.

Then he realizes an odder sensation, when he tries to open his eyes. He feels… flow. Drowsy. IF he’d been human, he’d wonder if he’d been… drugged…?

His eyes open wide at the realization, but the rest of his body is slow to respond. His vision is blurry and he can’t make out anything when he turns to where he hears a soft noise. After blinking and rubbing at his eyes as best he can when feeling so weak, his eyes eventually clear.

Where…?

It’s a simple room, but lavishly decorated in odd ways. The walls are painted bright red and several tapestries are hung around. He looks up and sees colorful fabrics draped along and hanging from a frame above him, encircling a large, round… bed? He reaches a paw out and presses on the surface he lies on. It’s definitely a mattress, though far softer than ones he’s familiar with. The bedding and fabrics are in shades of red, green, silver, and gold. Beyond them, he sees a sparse room, with little else in the way of furniture.

With his inhibited mind, it takes until he looks out the large windows to realise where he is.

The large windows are sealed with thick looking but incredibly clear glass, and show a finely landscaped garden that he’d only seen once before. Unwillingly.

It spurs him into action, but the lack of energy works against him. Not just that, but the bed is so soft that he struggles to get his feet under him. This- Is this intentional? He can’t put it past the man, and his heart rate starts to pick up, his situation suddenly crashing down on him.

At that moment, the only door in the room, hidden partially by one of the tapestries, opens.

“Detective.”

Any steadiness leaves him, and he unwillingly settles back down onto soft blankets.

Footsteps slowly approach, “You do get into the most interesting situations, don’t you?”

He feels faint. His stomach is churning.

Green and gold walks into his line of sight, the familiar green cape open to show more casual attire. His eyes are pulled up by something unknown, and his first thought is the rather banal curiosity of just how recently he went to the pit.

“I was never very interested in animals, but I’ll admit – only to you, my dear – that I think I could now be called a… Ah, yes, a ‘cat person.’”

Ra’s.

He was in the hands of Ra’s al Ghul.

“Alfred, what’s wrong?” Bruce asks after patrol. Damian had gone to bed and Dick returned to Bludhaven, so it was quiet for the time being. But his dear butler had a troubled look on his face.

“Nothing, I hope, Master Bruce.” Alfred takes the suit from him for mending, Bruce having gotten slightly nicked by a lucky thug with a knife. “Or dear Salem has disappeared again. It is odd, because I believe he was aware I would be returning with something for him.”

Bruce can’t help his own frown, “That’s unusual. He’s very well behaved when it comes to food.” He pauses in thought, “Almost worryingly so.”

“Hm, I believe whoever cared for him before us did a lackluster job,” Alfred comments with a deeper frown. Bruce sighs and nods in agreement. “Regardless, that is why I’m a bit concerned. He is a free spirit, however, so I will try not to worry too much.”

“Yeah, sounds good, Alfred.” Bruce rests a hand on a thin shoulder, “Keep me updated. We’ll keep an eye out tomorrow and hopefully he’ll be back by then.”

Alfred nods, folding the costume into an easier bundle to carry, “Of course, Master Bruce.”

Three days pass and now every Bat is worried. Salem hasn’t returned and after a day of searching, no clues have been found. Not even a single pawprint that could lead anywhere. It was if he had disappeared into thin air.

This is a great cause of concern for them, as after months of living with the creature, they’re aware of Salem’s habits and quirks. The cat is far too attached to them to leave, and he’s never done something like hiding his tracks. Granted, if he disappears into the city on one of his excursions, it’s easy to lose him, but that’s not unusual.

He’s also returned within a day every time up until now.

Dick rushed back from Bludhaven the evening after he disappeared, when Bruce had sent him a notice about the situation. Currently he’s pacing back and forth on the mats in the Batcave, mumbling to himself. Damian, when he looks over, looks about 30 seconds away from impaling Dick with the blade he’s sharpening. A firm look makes sure he won’t, but he understands that Dick’s pacing isn’t helping anyone.

“Dick,” Bruce calls, “if you need to work out that energy, get on the bars.”

“No! I want to go out and look for him!” Dick protests, crossing his arms as he turns to Bruce.

“It’s too dark, you wouldn’t be able to find him.”

“How do you know?” Bruce looks over his shoulder, away from the screen he’s been staring at for too long, and gives Dick a look. The man sinks in on himself and sighs, upset, “Yeah, okay. Sorry. I’m just worried.”

“I know,” he consoles, leaning back in his chair and rubbing at his eyes, “None of us are unconcerned, but panicking and rushing things won’t do us any good.”

Dick plops himself down on the mats with another, deeper sigh. Damian stops holding his very sharp blade so tightly, now that the man has stopped.

Just when Bruce is contemplating between going back to the computer or going out on an actual patrol, there’s a notice from the garage and soon they hear the rumbling of a motorcycle. Standing, he allows himself a moment to stretch before heading over. “Computer says Jay,” he comments, and Dick springs up to follow.

Jason is parked by the time they reach him, and he quick to take of his helmet. There’s no time for pleasantries, however, as he looks over to the two of them with a dark look on his face that stops them in their tracks.

“I have some bad news, and I’m almost positive it’s related to Salem.”

#ava fics #fanfiction #batman #red robin #Tim Drake #Just Leave Me verse #DCU #Pre-DCnU #cat!Tim #jason todd #alfred pennyworth #bruce wayne #dick grayson #damian wayne

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firefly-in-darkness · 4 years ago

Text

Proud Popsicle

Pairing → Dad!Stucky x Daughter!Reader (platonic)

Characters → Marvel Characters

Summary → Y/N visits her Dads after her holiday with her partner

Word Count → 1.4k

SSB2021 Square Fill → Dad/Daughter Dance - @star-spangled-bingo

Warnings → Fluff.

Betas → @daydream3r-xo // all mistakes are my own.

A/N → I couldn’t help myself with this fluffy piece and Steve being such a mother hen and proud husband.

Firefly’s Masterlist // Star Spangled Bingo 2021

It was the first time you’d seen your parents after returning from your holiday and you were beyond excited to spend the weekend with them, telling them all about the adventure you and your partner went on and catching up on all theirs too.

You rushed out of the taxi and eagerly into the arms held open wide, burying your head into the chest of your Pops. He chuckled at the tight hold you had on his waist and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“Hi, Pops.” You mumbled into his chest, then looked up to him. “What time will Bucky be back from work?”

You were sure that Steve’s blonde locks and beard were peppered with more greys since your last visit a month ago. But his blue eyes still shone as bright as the day that he brought you, a quite eight-year-old, home from the adoption centre with Bucky.

It was Bucky that had spotted you at the orphanage, shy and playing on your own with some old raggedy toys. He always comments at family gatherings that it was the wild yet stoic look about you that drew him nearby. You were like a feral child in your own little world, he’d tell his closest friends.

It was the moments that you weren’t with family or friends that were hardest for Bucky, you’d grown used to it and didn’t bat an eye when people stared at his prosthetic arm, and you’d always help him through a panic attack from the crowded spaces. You didn’t care that your Dad caused a scene - he was suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder and he needed love and support around him. He had put aside his fears and given you the life of your dreams.

“He should be home in about half an hour, he took a half-day just to see our girl.” Steve beamed and picked up your suitcase. “Come on, I’ve got lunch ready and Auntie Nat is already here.”

You squealed and rushed through the front door and down the hallway to the kitchen. Your favourite aunt was perched on a stool at the breakfast bar with a beaming smile and waiting arms.

“Pops didn’t say you’d be here. When did you get back from Europe?” You threw your coat onto the dining table behind them.

“Last week. Clint and I completed the merger for the business earlier than we expected so we immediately jumped on the opportunity to come home.” Natasha explained. “It’s been a long eighteen months and I needed to see you guys properly. Not on a tiny cell screen.”

You were excited to hear everything about your aunt’s security firm’s expansion and what it was like to live on the other side of the world, but you were interrupted by a sandwich being placed in front of you by Steve. Stomach grumbling at the sight of your favourite filling.

“Steve was just showing me the wedding video,” Natasha smirked.

You groaned, “Not again. Are you seriously still showing that Pops? It’s been two years.”

“Nat hadn’t seen it,” he explained, to which you just raised your brow, knowing full well that she attended the ceremony and you’d sent a digital copy. Steve then added, “in person.”

You chuckled, “okay, what part you up to?”

“When Bucky joined us for the father, daughter dance.” Steve beamed; his chest puffed with pride.

You carried on eating your sandwich, “Well-”.

“Don’t eat with your mouth full.” Steve reprimanded as he started to walk out of the kitchen, “and hang your coat up when you’re done.”

You rolled your eyes and looked at your Auntie Nat for defence.

“Don’t look at me honey, you’re an adult and married now.” She put her hands up and followed Steve.

In a flash, you threw your coat on the hook in the hallway and took your sandwich into the lounge, sitting cross-legged on the couch between Steve and Nat. Both focused on the images playing out on the wall-mounted television.

The swing band, hired by your parents, began playing Moonlight Serenade, you hooked your arm through Steve’s as he guided you onto the dancefloor for the Father, Daughter dance. It was already planned that Bucky and Steve would walk you down the aisle together and then the dance was with Steve. Bucky wasn’t sure if he’d be able to handle being up there and you accepted that because you wouldn’t put your Dad in a difficult position. Especially after everything he went through from serving for his country.

You made sure to hook the loop at the bottom of your dress before Steve brought you into his arms. It would be just your luck that you’d trip over the flowing skirts as he led you around the dancefloor. The pair of you swayed together, and both caught the adoring stare of Bucky as he watched them from the top table.

You cupped Steve’s cheek as tears glistened in his eyes, “What’s wrong, Popsicle?”

Steve chuckled at the nickname that Tony Stark had encouraged from the moment they met, “I’m just so proud of you sweetheart, you look beautiful.”

“Thank you, but please don’t cry. I’m not going anywhere.” You reassured.

“I know,” Steve sighed, a huge smile taking over his features. “I’m sorry that Bucky couldn’t join us.”

You shook your head, matching his smile, “He took me down the aisle with you, that’s what any girl would want of her Dad. Plus, we agreed, this was more your thing than his.”

Steve pulled you closer, and you tucked your head against his chest. Relishing in the magical moment, the love and fear of being separated by marriage had been weighing heavy on the three of them but it had only made their bond stronger.

You both must have closed your eyes and gotten lost in the music because the sudden tap on your shoulder had you both pulling away, startled at the presence of someone joining you.

Bucky smiled, holding out his hand, “Can I join you, doll?”

Excitement surged through you and you jumped into his arms, wrapping them around his neck and nuzzling his neck. You missed the looks between your parents, their silent conversation as they both pulled you into their hold and finished the dance as the family unit you would always remain.

“I love you Dad.” You rested your head on his shoulder.

“I love you too, honey,” Bucky responded with a kiss to your forehead.

You looked over to Steve at the sound of the sniffing but then you realised it was Natasha who was also crying on the other side, you chuckled at the sight of the pair of them. Former hired bodyguards and security detail, strong and independent people, sobbing at the wedding video.

The sound of the front door opening and closing stopped your internal laughter, and you jumped out of your seat, knowing that your dad was finally home from work. You waited for his call, the one he’d done every day, from the moment you were officially theirs, and he never intended to stop.

“Honey, I’m home. Where’s my Princess?”

You walked into the hallway then sprinted to him, “Dad!!”

Bucky staggered backwards then held you close, “careful sweetheart, I’m not as young as I used to be.”

You pulled away and looked at your Dad, eyes wide in shock, “you cut your hair.”

“Do you like it?” Bucky sheepishly rubbed the back of his head.

“Yes, it looks great.” You hugged him again, “Pops is watching the video again. Used the excuse of Auntie Nat seeing it in person.”

“Ugh, the punk.” Bucky chuckled and wrapped an arm around your shoulder as you walked down the hallway.

“I heard that!” Steve yelled from the lounge, “I might be getting old but my hearing’s still intact.”

“What?” Bucky responded. All they could hear was Steve grumbling and Natasha’s laughter. “Now, what has my partner in crime been up to?”

You’d forever deny that you always watched that part of your wedding video, with tears in your eyes too, whenever you were apart for more than a few weeks. You were the luckiest daughter ever and you couldn’t be prouder to be theirs.

Everything Tag List: @kitkatd7 / @fandomfic-galore / @writerwrites / @thefridgeismybestie / @wedonttalkaboutitenough / @courtneychicken / @persephonesinfernos

Marvel Tag List: @natasha-danvers / @little-baby-vixen / @stuckonjbbarnes / @starlightcrystalline / @nekoannie-chan / @hailhydra920 / @vollzeitliebe / @fitzsimmons-is-forever / @ladyacrasia / @emmabarnes

#Stucky Fic #Stucky x Reader #Dad!Stucky #Daughter!Reader #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #Steve Rogers Fic #Bucky Barnes Fic

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one-true-houselight · 4 years ago

Text

Five Times Stan Wondered How Ford Would Feel, and One Time He Didn't Have To

1982

It was weird, being at his own funeral. Stan had certainly thought about faking his own death before, but he'd never had the time, or the ability. It's not often you get a chance to take over your identical twin's life as a cover story.

It was the kind of story he would have told Ford to make him laugh when they were kids. The ultimate twin swap. The thought put a lump in his throat as he stared out at the small number of guests. An uncharitable part of him noted that Ford would probably have had more mourners.

A different, desperately scared and guilty part, wondered how Ford would feel if he was here, at his brother's actual funeral. Would he be sad? Would he remember the good times, or would he just see a broken machine, a crumpled bag of toffee peanuts?

Would he even come?

Stan breathed, trying to convince himself he was simply pursuing this train of thought so he could impersonate Ford more effectively. He hoped his performance was more effective than that effort.

He sat on a bench and reflexively massaged the sides of his hands, where he'd made it look like extra fingers had been removed. To his surprise, Shermie came over and sat next to him. "You doin' ok, Stanford?"

"Yeah," Stan replied, hoping his illusion would hold. "As ok as I can be, I guess."

Shermie put a hand on his shoulder, and Stan kept himself from flinching. People hadn't put their hands on him for much beyond violence in...a while. "I know you and Stanley hadn't seen each other in a while, and it ending like this is probably difficult for you."

Stan shrugged, and thought once again; how would Ford feel right now, if the last time he'd seen Stan had been when he closed the curtain on him all those years ago, and not a brother desperately reaching for him as he disappeared through a swirling portal?

He figured it was wishful thinking when he replied, "I think I was done with anger, at this point. I just wish I had told him how I felt sooner."

1992

Stan was rummaging through the closet when an object fell from between some coats and landed at his feet. He picked it up to find it was a worn, six fingered glove. His first instinct was to drop it, as if it had burned him, but he didn't. He just stared at it for a while, thoughts wandering to the man who once wore it.

He kept holding it as he went back to work, (Stan was never one to stand still for too long), cleaning the gift shop, adjusting an attraction, locking up the earnings, entering the code on the vending machine. As he worked, he wondered what Ford would say if he was here right now. Probably something about scientific integrity, he thought with a snort. '

He wondered if he'd appreciate how he finally figured out a way to make money, if he'd laugh at the times Stan had had to punch something supernatural. It was certainly in character: Ford being the one ready to research and record phenomena, while Stan was the one coming in to punch it, or kick it, or sic a knife-wielding possum on it. They had made a good team. Maybe they still would, if-

No. Thinking like that didn't help, it wouldn't bring him back. To be fair, he didn't know if this would work, as he surveyed the broken portal looming from the darkness. But he had to try. He had to.

He hoped Ford would be proud of him.

1999

Stan sat straight up in Shermie's kids' living room, fingers tapping wildly. When he'd gotten the call, he had run to the PA to close the gift shop immediately so he could pack. And now, after breaking more traffic laws in a day then he had thought possible, he was here, and he was about to meet-

"Stanford, meet Mason and Mabel." His niece and nephew walked in, each holding a baby. His breath caught in his throat. He had known they were twins, of course, he wasn't an idiot, but now, seeing these two bundles with the same face poking out over blankets, the fact hit him like a train.

"Looks like twins-" run in the family, but he couldn't say that. Shermie had agreed (reluctantly) to not mention Stanley to his family, given the tragic circumstances, so the comment would have been nonsensical to them. So he just smiled at his new great niece and nephew.

"They sure do, Stan. Want to hold them?" Stan's eyes widened slightly and he nodded. The babies were handed to him, one in each arm, and he looked down at them, tears in his eyes. Mabel's eyes locked onto his gold chain and she batted at it, entranced at the light bouncing off of it. Mason had a large birthmark on his head, like a constellation, and seemed fascinated by the tassel on Stan's hat.

"Hey there. I'm your Great Uncle Stan," he whispered, his words sliding together a little from emotion.

Their mom chuckled. "Sounded like you said 'Grunkle Stan'. It's usually the kids who give you the nickname."

Stan laughed, startling the babies a little. "You know what, I think I like Grunkle Stan better. 'Great Uncle' makes me feel old."

"Don't tell that to Dad," joked his nephew before standing. "I'll go make some lunch."

Stan made to stand up, but was pushed back into his seat. "You stay with the kids, it's fine."

Stan nodded and looked to the twins' mom, who had fallen into a chair across from him. "How are you holding up?"

She shrugged. "Twins are hard, but they're sleeping better than I expected. If I didn't know better, I'd think they were helping each other sleep."

Stan laughed. "I wouldn't be surprised, these two look smart." Mabel looked up at him and blew a raspberry. Mason sat up, then immediately fell forward into Stan's chest. He looked up and smiled, and Stan absentmindedly tapped his forehead. "Quite a birthmark he's got."

"Yeah. Shermie joked that we should call him 'Dipper'. He said it was like calling you Sixer-" She stopped suddenly, blushing. "Sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"No, no," said Stan quickly, his hands flitting to the scars on his hands. "I didn't mind that name. It certainly wasn't the worst thing I was called." It flowed easily, saying I. He had been Stanford for 17 years now, after all.

The conversation moved on, the twins crawling over him as he chatted and laughed with their mother. But his thoughts were elsewhere, pushed to a familiar place by that nickname. He didn't know how Ford felt about having his own kids, but he knew he would have loved to be here, to see these kids. Maybe he could give better advice about Mason.

Did he and Ford ever comfort each other, before they even knew what those words meant? Stan couldn't remember a time that he wasn't aware of Ford, a time before that night when they weren't by each other's sides. How would Ford react to see another set of Pines twins? As he looked down, he wished they never lost each other the way he and Ford had lost each other. It was the best blessing he could think to give them.

July 2012

Stan sat in his chair, stunned. That morning, he had followed the sound of excited kids shouting to find that someone had found Ford's old room As he'd walked in, hoping they wouldn't ask him too many questions, he had glanced over and seen them sitting there, as if Ford had left them there minutes before. He had always had a bad habit about his glasses.

With a look at the kids, who were distracted, he grabbed the glasses and shoved them in a pocket, covering his reeling mind with announcing a competition. He made it through the day, not internalizing much. Now that he thought about it, he was pretty sure there had been something going on with Dipper and Mabel, but he just hadn't been present enough to figure out what. It seems like they were figuring out whatever it was, so he was just left sitting in the dark, staring at a pair of glasses.

He was so close. Was Ford even alive? He had to be. He had been working on this for thirty years, he had to believe that Ford was out there. What was Ford doing right now? Had he found some nerd school? Stan smiled at that, and tried not to imagine the many, many less attractive options.

He heard footsteps upstairs, and he contemplated what Ford would have done that day, with the kids. Maybe he would have had a reasoned discussion with the kids, about boundaries and choices. Or maybe he would have seen his own resentment reflected in those kids' eyes, and…

He had spent thirty years as Stanford Pines, and had slowly weaned himself off of trying to act as he thought Ford would. But even if he hadn't, he would have started now. Because if he couldn't stop the curse with him and Ford, he would not pass it down to Dipper and Mabel. He had to believe that siblings were not doomed to fail, he had to believe that he could help these kids out from a shadow they didn't know they were under.

And even though he didn't believe it, he hoped he could get Ford and him out too, someday. He hoped Ford would want to come.

August 2012

Ford was here.

Thirty years of work, and Ford was in the next room, bemoaning what Stan had done to the shack.

Figures.

"You know, Ford, standing around yelling at the Mystery Shack isn't gonna change anything," he called out. Ford walked into the room, eyebrows furrowed.

"I still don't understand why you had to take my identity," said Ford. "Wouldn't it have been easier to fake my death?"

I didn't know if it would have been fake He shrugged and replied, "Do you know how many crimes I've committed? It was better that way."

"I can imagine," muttered Ford, with more venom than Stan liked, but no more than he expected.

"Hey, you know a lot of crimes were to get you back."

Ford snorted at that, but fell quiet for a moment, staring at his own hands. Finally, without looking up, he asked, "How'd you fake the hands, Stanley?"

"Said I cut 'em off." He held up his hands to show the faded scars, and Ford's eyes widened slightly.

"You gave yourself scars?"

"Yeah. I've got enough of them." Stan did not mention that, as much as these scars had hurt, they had paled in comparison to how he had felt watching Ford get pulled away from him.

Ford stared, almost transfixed, at Stan's hands before abruptly standing up. "I should keep working," he muttered and swept off.

Stan crossed his arms and muttered, "Man, I thought I had been too grumpy as you." He laid back and sighed. Thirty years he had sat and wondered about how Ford would feel, how he'd react, what he was missing. And here they were, together again, and Stan still didn't know how the man felt. Not really. Yes, the punch had been a good clue as to some of it, but...He didn't know what had happened to Ford out there. He didn't know how it felt to be back. Was he disoriented? Scared? Excited? Overwhelmed?

Damn it, why wouldn't Ford let him help? How could he not see that Stan still cared about him? How much he missed him?

Maybe because you haven't told him, a voice said. Yeah, well, turn about's fair play, Stanford…

He shook his head. He had 'til the end of summer. He could still fix things. If he could fix an interdimensional portal, he could fix his relationship with his brother, his twin, his best friend…

Right?

September 2012

Stan sat on the porch of the Mystery Shack, watching the sun go down. Ford walked out and sat down next to him. "How are you doing, Stanley?"

"I'm fine. Mind feels good. You?"

"I'm...I'm good." Ford took a breath. "I'm sorry, Stanley."

Stan looked at him, eyebrows raised. "Didn't we do this already?"

"Not really. I may have apologized for certain events, but...I never told you that I'm grateful, not really. After everything you've lived through, all the things I caused, you gave your life over to bringing me back. You sacrificed your mind to save me, to save the world. And I never, I could never acknowledge before now how good a person you really are."

"You really don't need to do this, Ford, I know how cool I am-"

"No, you don't. Stanley, you think that you have to act like this to make up for something. I let you think you needed to fight for redemption after that science fair, and you've been fighting your whole life, never understanding that you are enough. I just want you to know that people see you, that they know you're a good person. The kids, Soos...me. You deserve to know how I feel." There was a pause as Stan gathered his thoughts, but then he started laughing. Ford furrowed his brows. "I'm not joking, Stanley. You are worthy of love, and-"

"No, no," said Stan, putting a hand on Ford's shoulder. "I...you're right, I don't have the best self esteem, but that's not it. I've spent 30 years wondering how you'd feel, what you'd do. And now, now I finally know." A single tear streaked down his face. "Thank you. I really think I needed to hear that."

Ford pulled him into a hug. "I only wish I could have told you sooner." At that, they both started crying in earnest, and Stan knew he finally knew how his twin felt.

Like him, he felt love.

#stanley pines #ford pines #stanuary #angst #BROTHER BONDING #STAN BEING SCARED #also Stan meeting baby dipper and mabel #it's also on AO3 I don't know how crossposting works lmao #gravity falls #i write sometimes #is this good?#maybe?#but we're having fun here

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whats-rambled-rambled · 4 years ago

Text

Long Nights - part 4

Neil x Reader

Chapter 4: World gone mad

(see chapter 3, 2, 1)

summary: inverted heist calls for inverted training

warnings: 18+, explicit language, gun mention, crackheadery, and possible whiplash

author’s note: Hi, yes, I know, took me ages, but hey, I hope it's worth the wait! 5.2k words, how even--

Anyway.

The song for this part is Bastille - World Gone Mad

Enjoy! All feedback is greatly appreciated, let me know what you think?

——————

Tag list: @cxnnienikas @neutron-stars-collision @ergunbilge @invertedneil @wanderedaway @mellifluous-cosmos @wonderwoman292 @buckysgoldenheart @townmoondaltwistle @theriverbeneaththeriver (please let me know if you want to be added/removed from the list)

-----

The fact that you knew how to handle guns wasn’t equal to you being very good at it. Or enjoying it, for that matter. Sure, you could more or less hit the target, especially with some useful tips you got from Neil regarding a trigger finger discipline, but still - you’d rather avoid reaching for a pistol altogether.

You put back the weapon you’d been training with and Neil handed you another one. You couldn’t really tell the difference, at least until you checked the magazine. The lack of ammo meant you finally got to the fun bit that Neil teased in The Protagonist’s office and you smiled, looking back at your companion. He grinned at you, the gaze sparkling behind yellow-tinted safety glasses as he pointed at the wall next to the targets you used for practice.

“Just aim and pull the trigger. ” Seeing your nod, he added, “Okay now, be careful, it might feel--”

The bullet whizzed back into the chamber of your pistol and your eyes widened.

“Oh fuck me sideways,” you hissed under your breath.

“-- a bit weird, yeah.” Neil chuckled at the shock painted on your face. “All right?”

“Yeah, just processing.” Trying to blink the consternation away, you asked, “How do you make these? You put it into that...turnstile and voilà?”

Neil shook his head. “No, it’s not that simple. We receive a stash every now and then, we don’t know how to manufacture those,” - he smirked - “at least not yet. I do have a few theories I’m working on in my spare time, but...” hesitating for a moment, he raked a hand through his hair and sent you a nervous smile. “Wouldn’t want to bore you to death, though.”

“Dude, come on, with that smooth and soothing voice of yours? You could read the yellow pages to me and I’d still listen like that--” you mocked a dreamy heart-eyes expression, watching with satisfaction as that remark pushed Neil further into a flustered state.

Apparently, when explicit teasing got a little-to-no reaction now, you could still make him blush with a more wholesome compliment. As you started laughing, he rolled his eyes and scrunched the nose slightly, joining you with a stifled giggle. Grinning, you continued a little softer, “I’m not gonna lie - I probably wouldn’t understand a majority of the physics jargon, but I’d still want to hear all about that.”

A thankful look you got in return made your chest clench painfully, and your mind wandered off to those breaks near the river, and Neil’s animated rants. You knew one thing. Anyone who had ever ridiculed him for his passion for even the nerdiest things could rot in hell, and you’d gladly see to it personally.

A disgruntled huff coming from behind made you both snap out of the moment.

“Oi, lovebirds, I’d appreciate it if you could leave all that to after I prep you for the mission.”

Bottling down your annoyance, you batted your lashes at the commander, who’d just come back with keys to one of the conference rooms near the range.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry, you have my full attention now.”

Ives nodded, waving at you to follow him. Meanwhile, Neil’s small smirk let you know that he noticed that faint undertone in your voice, but he said nothing, patiently waiting for the events to unfold.

Another person was waiting for you at the door. You recognized the woman who’d driven you to that abandoned factory on your very first day - you’d never gotten properly introduced, but you remember asking Neil about her once and he called her Wheeler. To be honest, with these guys you never knew if they used their real names, nicknames, codenames, or whatever. Not that you cared, quite used to it in your own line of business. You exchanged a court nod with her and went into the room.

As you sat down at the big table and Ives booted a projector, your eyes bore into the man. Definitely one of those types who enjoyed his beret and the paramilitary structure of the field branch of the organization. Probably a bit too much. You bit back a smug grin.

Those were particularly fun to mess with.

Ives caught your piercing stare and stopped the brief of the location.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you said, propping the chin on your palm, a polite smile on your lips. “It’s fascinating.”

He furrowed his brows, perplexed.

“What is?”

“How your commanding presence literally adds you inches,” you said, using all your willpower to keep a serious face. “I wonder if it works only for your height or--”

Neil’d futile attempts at masking an amused snort with a cough didn’t go unnoticed. Ives shot him daggers and then glared at you. “For fuck’s sake, would you focus?”

Your eyes flared up at the threat in his voice and you pouted, taunting him further.

“Or what, you’re gonna spank me?”

“No, I’m gonna shoot you,” he deadpanned.

You raised a brow.

“Kinky.”

Ives groaned, turning to Neil.

“How you survived this long without choking her is beyond me.”

Neil puffed his cheeks and gestured vaguely, but as he opened the mouth to answer, you chimed in, with a shit-eating grin plastered on your face.

“Oh, he very much did so, all right.”

The awkward silence that followed was pretty satisfying.

“Can we keep her?” asked Wheeler casually, leaned back in her chair, fiddling with a bullpen.

Ives gaped at you all, then slumped his shoulders in defeat, sliding a hand through his features. He was so done you could almost hear The Sound of Silence playing in the distance, but apparently, his sense of duty was stronger than the urge to leave you without finishing the briefing, so he just drew a deep breath and continued.

“...anyway…”

You caught Neil’s glance and you couldn’t help but poke the tip of your tongue out at him. The mischievous sparks in his eyes reflected your own as he shook his head, tugging the bottom lip between the teeth. Wheeler’s curious gaze flitted between you two, and as you didn’t feel like drawing too much unnecessary attention to yourself anymore, you focused on the plan that Ives was persistently going through.

Time frames. Blueprints. Entry points. Exit routes (you spotted at least one additional way he left out, but you weren’t sure if you could drag Neil through there, judging by that alley performance, so you didn’t bother to mention it out loud). Everything seemed clear enough. You still had no idea how being inverted would affect the lockpicking, but when you voiced that, Ives promised you some time to figure it out before the mission.

The mission. Huh. It wasn’t that much different from your usual assignments - at least if you forgot about that tiny insignificant detail like moving backwards in time - but something in this paramilitary and/or espionage vibe made your heart beat faster with excitement.

It had been quite a long time since you had company at the job. Working alone had its perks, but you wouldn’t mind a trusted partner in crime having your six for a change.

Another thing that you certainly wouldn’t mind - seeing Neil in tactical gear. Not that either of you would need one, but the image got planted in your head and suddenly you wished you’d had a bottle of water.

You realized that everyone was looking at you expectantly. Shit, was there a question or…?

“I’m good,” you said, shooting in the dark, hoping that would be enough to cover your distracted ass.

Ives squinted, but fortunately, that was an acceptable answer.

“Well, as you two can proceed straight from here - Wheeler, they’re all yours.’

“Okay,” - she smiled and stood up - “we don’t have any turnstiles on-site, but there’s one in the base outside the city, I’ll talk you through the basics on the way.”

So that little daydream cost you a chance to come back home to prepare? Grand. The problem was - you needed your heavy-duty tools, but you’d rather eat rocks than back away in front of Ives. Luckily, he called on Neil to wait for a moment, so that was your chance.

“Umm, Wheeler?” you asked quietly, following her outside.

She glanced at you curiously.

“What’s up?”

“I know I said I’m good, but could we stop by my apartment for a second, please?” An awkward grimace ran through your face. “I gotta pick up my tools. You know, just in case.”

She wasn’t surprised by your request. Moreover, she sent you a knowing smile.

“Sure thing,” she said and winked, and then it was your turn to present a slightly flushed face. “I’ve got you.”

----

You didn’t know what to expect from the whole inversion process.

The first time your brain stuttered was when Wheeler pointed at something she called the proving window, just in time for you to see the three of you coming out on the other side. You caught inverted-you glancing back at your present self; the schooled expression, but with the gaze shining with anticipation.

The second time was when it was you on the other side, looking at your wide-eyed past self. Feeling the incoming headache, you took a deep breath and followed Wheeler and Neil to the stand with oxygen masks.

“How are you feeling?” asked Neil, handing you the equipment.

“Weirdly normal.” You shrugged. “Or maybe not more backwards than usual, if that makes any sense.”

He smiled lightly.

“It’s the airlock. When you see the outside, you’ll get a whole new perspective.”

Wheeler nodded. “What he said. And to recap: you’re inverted, the world is not - all forces will be pushing back on you. Besides gravity.” She double-checked the oxygen bottle secured to your belt. “Just mind things that might be rising instead of falling.”

You furrowed the brows.

“Wait, didn’t Ives mention the rain?”

Neil smirked from behind the mask.

“Afraid of getting wet?”

“Never.” You grinned, meeting the sparkling blue eyes. “Should know that by now.”

Wheeler snorted and shook her head, walking to the panel near the exit.

“You’ll have plenty of time to finish the job before you move far enough to catch up on that. Although, if you ever find yourself in the inverted rain, here’s a tip: pop your collar.”

“Why would you--” Oh. The sole thought of the water going up from the ground to the sky made you nauseous. You swallowed with effort, leveling your breath in the mask. “...right.”

Wheeler opened the door and you almost gasped at the view. The golden rays of sunset (...or was it technically a sunrise now?) flickered on the training grounds’ equipment as the sky painted the scarce pools of muddy water with greyish violets and reddening oranges. Leaves shuffled in the wind, their dance almost satirical with that inverted spin.

Wheeler’s voice stopped your mind from wandering further into the landscape.

“Okay, ready? Ives asked me to remind you not to try any cowboy shit, you need to be in one piece at the end of the training.”

“Yes ma’am,” you mocked a salute and stepped outside, stretching your limbs, readjusting to the reality being slightly off. Neil stood right beside you watching you warming up, ready to take you to the obstacles section.

But as soon as the airlock’s doors closed behind you, you spun around, tapping his shoulder - “Tag, you’re it!” - and without waiting for his reaction, you leaped towards the assault course.

Surely that turned out overly optimistic. You counted on the element of surprise and a head start, but Neil had an experience with running while being inverted, while you… well. You tried.

“B+ for effort,” laughed Neil, catching up on you even before you reached the first obstacle and tapping you back. “But you can do better than that.”

“Just you wait!” you retorted and vaulted over a low hurdle, the mild confusion caused by the dumbfounded senses slowly eased up as you tuned out the brain and let the muscle memory guide your movements. Because hey, in the end? Yes, the natural forces were acting up against you. Yes, Neil had years of inverted training behind him. But you’d been challenging different obstacles your whole life, and courses like this one were your favourite playgrounds.

You caught on him by the next wall, playing dirty and tugging at his leg, pulling him down before he could jump to the other side. The exasperated huff he gave you in protest got lost in the squelch of mud under your feet, the sound more like a suction instead of the much-expected splash. Shuddering with disgust at such abomination, you rushed to the set of monkey bars, hearing Neil following up closely. You gritted your teeth, swinging your body to help yourself get through the part, and that’s when you felt a light tap on your foot.

You glared to your left, where Neil was gaining an advantage over you.

“Damn you and your infinite legs, man! It doesn’t count!”

“Losing looks good on you,” he said, landing and then instantly ducking under your reached out hand.

“Too bad it’s not gonna stick,” you scoffed as you ran after him to jump on one of the parallel logs. Balancing was easy enough, even with inversion; it gave you the perfect opportunity to plan ahead, while Neil had to maintain full focus. “Must say - all that sass definitely makes you like... ten percent hotter.”

But you’d taught him well, apparently, and instead of losing his pace, he only shot you a quick glance accompanied by an arched brow.

“Only ten?”

“Dunno, come over here and let me take a closer look,” you teased, getting a short chuckle in response. “No?” - you sighed - “Alrighty then.” And you leaped to the side straight into Neil, pushing him off the log. He yelped and grabbed you by the shirt, the momentum sending you both straight into the mud. You landed on top of Neil, collapsing into his arms for a moment to catch a breath and to stop laughing.

You leaned back to look him in the eyes.

“Okay, maaaybe fifteen,” you panted, booping his mask as you would do to his nose.

Neil snickered and nodded.

“I’ll take it.”

When your gazes met, his features softened, and he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear gently. You smiled behind the mask and sat up, straddling his waist. Neil was studying you closely, his hands grazed your sides and rested on your hips. Nibbling at your bottom lip, you leaned over him again and slowly reached out, and--

“Simba…” you choked out with reverence, brushing a muddy thumb across his forehead.

Tears from the held-back laughter threatened to spill any second as you observed Neil blanking out in utter confusion. The five stages of grief ran through his expression and then he closed his eyes and sighed theatrically.

“The fate of the world is in the hands of a complete madwoman.”

...the what now?

You tilted your head, grinning.

“Aren’t you a little dramatic?”

Then, without a warning, Neil shifted under you, rolling you off him and pinning you down.

“Birds of a feather and all that,” he said, clearly enjoying the way you squealed and squirmed as the mud got under your shirt. “You think you got a hang of the inverted movement already?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. Neil realized your intentions a second too late. A handful of mud splashed on his face and you chuckled with satisfaction. “Yeah, now I think I’m ready to go.”

You turned up at the airlock soon after, looking like something that cat dragged in, but beaming widely. Dreaming of a hot shower and a clean set of clothes, you put down the mask and the oxygen container and headed to the turnstile.

Wheeler was waiting for you near the machine, and seeing the state you were in, she just gaped at you both, trying to come up with an adequate question.

As you noticed her quizzical look, you gave her a thumbs up and smiled.

“If you ain't dirty, you ain't here to party! Wooo!” you whooped, throwing your hands up and trotting past her straight into the turnstile.

Right before reverting yourself back to your original state, you heard Wheeler’s hushed question.

“You two all right?”

And then Neil’s answer.

“Don’t worry, we’re good.”

--------

The truck’s engine hummed steadily, which could only mean you were on some sort of highway. At least the container stopped wobbling, so you could practice in peace.

No wobbles meant no excuses, though. You sighed, readjusting your grip on the tools.

Neil had fallen asleep some time ago, after making sure you figured out the locks and hearing your solemn promise that you would follow him soon.

One day after that eventful night, then inverting and going straight back without proper sleep. You knew he was right and you needed at least a nap. But you couldn’t. Not before you were absolutely sure you got it. The usual locks weren’t that bad. The inverted ones were a whole other story.

It’d taken you long enough to crack them in the safety of your own apartment, without the weird physics, ever-present even within the air-locked container. Without the pressure.

The fate of the world.

What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

You didn’t even know what was that thing you were supposed to retrieve soon. It was okay, you didn’t need to. It was a quite common situation in your work history. That kind of knowledge could be dangerous, after all.

The pin clicked and you sighed again, squeezing your eyes shut to stop the burning sensation even for a moment.

Besides, you were doing it for Neil. The memory of that panicked look on his face when he’d seen the documents was enough to keep you going.

But did he have to say that?

You had to do it. Not only because you felt responsible for him, in a way. What you’d told the boss was true and you weren’t the only one at fault for Neil not being fully ready for that assignment. He was your friend, wasn’t he? And there was no way you’d leave a friend in need.

You pressed your lips together, forcing yourself to breathe.

Probably a stupid joke, nothing more.

But what if he was being serious? What if that thing out there was really that important? And you were about to fuck everything up because you couldn’t get your shit together fast enough to figure out the bloody inverted mechanism again. And with every minute wasted and not spent on resting there was a higher chance of messing up at the actual location.

Hell of a locksmith you were, huh?

The feedback from the tools came with a final warning like a sobering slap. If you were to continue, they would snap any second now.

You let out a shaky breath and retraced from the lock, hiding your face in the palms.

A gentle touch on your shoulder almost made you flinch. Of course, he had to wake up in the middle of your breakdown.

“Go back to sleep, we still have a few hours left,” you muttered into your hands, trying to collect yourself.

“Not before you talk to me,” said Neil as his fingers slid down your arm. He was crouching right beside you, the blue eyes boring into you with concern. “What is it?”

You sighed and shifted in your seat to face him.

“Wanna make sure I got it, that’s all.”

Neil’s brows knitted together.

“But I saw you open that lock once, why--”

“Once! And that’s exactly the problem!” you fumed and glared at the table. “I can’t crack it again, I--” your voice wavered and you gritted the teeth in frustration. “What if it was a stroke of dumb luck? Should I start praying for another one to happen there?”

Another delicate touch, this time on your knees, was enough to make you look back at Neil. A shade of smile tainted his lips as he searched your gaze.

“Someone used to tell me all the time that if you did it once, you can do it again.”

You hung your head and huffed, “Maybe that someone was full of shit.’

“I know for a fact that she wasn’t,” he chuckled, taking the tools out of your clenched fists and putting them back at the table. “She was utterly brilliant,” he continued, reaching for your cramping, trembling hands and taking them in his, ”and always reminded me to take a break instead of agonizing over a stubborn lock.”

That you did, all right. Your laugh sounded awfully close to a sob. God, if you weren’t exhausted.

Mustering enough strength to look him in the eyes, you squeezed his hands, trying to convey all the gratitude in the gesture. And hide that bit of embarrassment, too.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he said and his thumbs brushed over your knuckles. “Scoot over.”

You moved back on the provisional bench, making enough space for him to sit next to you. And so he did, not letting go of your hands even for a second. He started rubbing small circles into them and you grunted softly. Neil gave you a knowing smile and soon enough, his fingers glided between your forearms and fingertips, applying pressure to the tensest places, careful strokes and precise moves bringing a much-needed release. You couldn’t help small groans escaping your mouth, every one of them adding to the self-satisfied grin hiding in the corner of Neil’s mouth. But then, instead of teasing you, his features softened and you caught his glance, warm and sheepish.

“I don’t think I properly thanked you for offering to help me with this mission.”

“I couldn’t let you have all the fun,” you laughed and winced as Neil’s thumbs worked on your wrists. “Don’t thank me yet, we still need to pull it off first.”

“Well, maybe we already have, from the typical point of view,” - he pondered, lighting up - “seeing that we are moving back--”

“Neil, please, I’m all for discussing it later, but right now it’s about to give me a pounding headache.”

When you met his eyes, you noted with relief that he didn’t mind you cutting him off like that. He knew that you were tired, nothing more.

“Right, sorry.” Then he looked at you with determination, suddenly serious. “Whatever happens… thank you. It means a lot.”

“Of course,” you said quietly as your heart ached with unexpected fondness.

Neil smiled, shaking off the sentimental moment. His hands cupped yours and gave them a light squeeze.

“Now would you please get some rest?”

“Will you tuck me in?” you grinned and batted your lashes at him, earning an amused snort in return.

“I can even sing you a lullaby if that means you’ll fall asleep faster,” he said, standing up and tugging at your hand.

“Ah, I’m afraid I’m gonna crash too fast to properly appreciate it,” you giggled as he kited you all the way to the resting area at the front of the container. “But I’m definitely taking a rain check on that.”

“Sure.” One final brush of his thumb over your fingers and he let go of your hand, smirking. “Now sleep, I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

-------

Neil proved to be an excellent companion.

You disabled the alarms simultaneously, paying attention to all the possible silent traps. Forcing the main locks went smoothly, almost surprisingly so. For having something of such importance hidden there, the owners of the place seemed strangely old-fashioned; it shone through the antique decor of the lofty apartment as well as the security choices. Too easy. Tuning out an intrusive thought rattling in the back of your head, you scouted the dark rooms, careful not to leave any traces of your presence.

There.

The office you saw in the photos.

...but they’d redecorated.

“That’s one fancy safe they got there,” you said nonchalantly, eyeing the ornament piece of metal lit by your flashlight, “Too bad it somehow got left out at the briefing.”

Neil’s face dropped when he followed you inside the room.

“Christ, and what now?”

Good question. You’d worked with safes before, hell, you’d cracked a fair share of them using simply manipulation. But never going bloody backwards in time. How would that even work? Was it normal or inverted?

Well, there was only one way to find out.

“I’ve got this.” And that’s how you felt, despite the initial panic. There was a method to it, and you had most of the things you needed with you. Perks of overpreparing. The only issue was-- ... “It might take a while, though.”

Neil nodded.

“Let me know if you need anything.”

“Keep an eye on the time for me, I gotta focus,” you said, reaching into your backpack and accidentally pulling on the thin tube. Right. “...and maybe on the oxygen levels as well?”

“Will do.”

Your brain switched into the challenge mode, and your fingers tingled to give it a try. Armed with a sound amplifier and a little notepad, you sat down next to the safe and got to work.

Figuring out your way in was meant to be a hit and miss, doubly so with the goddamn inversion. But minute after minute, click by click, you determined the first contact points, and the years of experience took you from there. You scribbled numbers and variations in the notepad, fully focused on the task. Almost there.

Another combination. Inhale. Exhale. Pull.

Gotcha.

“Neil?” you called out in the hushed voice as the beam from the flashlight landed on a small metal box of a peculiar shape.

He was next to you in no time.

“That’s it,” he said, kneeling down. He reached inside and took out the box, then carefully placed it inside his backpack. The blue eyes glimmered in the dim light. “Good job!”

“Thanks,” you smiled and closed the safe. “Now let’s get out of here.”

You gathered and packed all your stuff, double-checking for any leftover signs of your entry.

Then you heard it. A faint, slightly off patter against the huge windows. You froze in place as your mind tried to grasp the view of trickles of rain coming up the glass.

Neil glanced outside, not mindful of the absolutely bonkers scene that wiped any coherent thought from your head. Although judging from how quickly his face lost all the colours, the view he got was even more disturbing.

“Christ…” he uttered, shooting you a panicked look. “We’ve got company.”

You dashed to the window to see for yourself. A group of people was crossing the empty street, moving pretty much normally, and that only meant...

Fuck.

“The owners?”

Neil shook his head. “Impossible. The third party, probably.” With his hand already on the holster, he hesitated, considering the options.

But there were only two: fight or flight. The problem was - the numbers didn’t look good for you to try pushing through the crew downstairs. And as for the second one, your initial exit routes seemed to be cut off already.

Although, there was still one path left. You almost smiled to yourself. He was not going to like it.

“Let’s go through the roofs.”

Neil’s eyes widened. “Are you sure?” he asked, scanning your face for any sign of doubt.

There was none.

“Yes, but we have to leave right now.”

He swallowed with effort and nodded.

As soon as you bolted out of the apartment and rushed up the stairs, the footsteps coming from the lower levels quickened. Time was running out.

You were about to barge outside when Neil grabbed your hand as if he sensed what was going to happen next. The doors opened and you lost the momentum, startled by the view. Heavy showers replaced the drizzle you saw through the window, intensifying the nauseating effect.

The last strands of sanity threatened to leave you, but Neil’s touch was like an anchor, grounding you and keeping you from spiraling further.

“Which way?” he shouted through the hammering, almost deafening rain.

You blinked rapidly and looked around to match the data from the brief to the actual location.

“Over there!”

Wishing you’d had a goddamn collar to pop, you leaped to the side, guiding Neil through your only escape route. You let go of his hand to vault over the vents, and just as your feet touched the surface again, you heard distant yells behind you. Shit.

The high density of the area was working in your favor, but only for so long. There was meant to be a gap between the buildings sooner or later, and one of them was coming right up. The jump was doable, even for Neil - all you needed was speed and a decent launch.

But when your companion noticed the edge of the roof, he slowed down and stopped by a low parapet wall, cursing.

“No fucking way!”

“Yes fucking way, Neil, come on! We don’t have time!” you urged him as the voices behind you grew louder.

He swallowed with effort, too transfixed on the gap. You bit back an impatient groan and grabbed him by the shoulders, forcing him to look at you.

“Neil, listen to me. You can do this. All you need is a run-up.”

He didn’t seem convinced. You gritted your teeth, trying to keep your own rising panic in check.

“Do you trust me? Yes or no?”

He met your eyes and his features hardened. There.

“I do.”

And when you opened the mouth again, the first bullet whizzed past you. You flinched, but maintained the eye contact, afraid to lose Neil’s newfound confidence. “Then go first, I’m right behind you.”

Neil nodded and backed away quickly. Watching him jump, your heart skipped a beat, but he landed on the other side without too much trouble. Good. Your turn.

You dashed towards the rim and another bullet missed your legs by a hair’s breadth, hitting the parapet wall right ahead of you. A little close to the top, as you noted, jumping on it to leap across the gap.

But the realization came a moment too late. The wall crumbled under your feet.

Enough for you to not make it to the other side.

Someone screamed.

Was it you?

It didn’t matter.

The world dissolved in a flash of agonizing pain.

And darkness.

----

Static beeping. The smell of disinfectants. And your every particle throbbing in dull pain.

Somebody was having a quiet conversation nearby. The Protagonist… and Neil?

A wave of relief flooded over you. He’d made it.

Grunting, you opened your eyes and squinted, waiting for your sight to readjust to the poor light. Weird. Why would they keep you in such a pitch-black room?

“Gents?” you called out, carefully shifting upwards, wincing. “Would you mind getting the lights?”

The conversation stopped and you heard a gasp.

“Lights? But it’s the middle of the day?” said The Protagonist, but Neil cut him off.

“You’re awake!” Footsteps and a sudden touch on your hand. Neil’s voice trembled slightly, as well as his fingers. “Are you okay?”

You bored into darkness, hoping to see the familiar face.

To see anything.

To see.

(next chapter ->)

#neil tenet #neil tenet x reader #neil x reader #tenet #robert pattinson #neil tenet fanfiction #tenet fanfiction #neil tenet imagine #the protagonist tenet #ives tenet #wheeler tenet #long nights

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asstronauts · 4 years ago

Text

don’t want no other shade of blue (but you)

rating: t word count: 2431 pairing: jemily bbs, the early days summary: in which we come to know why JJ loves her blue blanket so dearly, why she always wraps it so tightly around herself on the jet

read on ao3, if you’d prefer

---

"JJ," Emily groaned, pulling the pillow tightly around her ears to block out the blaring noise of JJ's ringtone. "Your phone."

There was a slight grunt in response, but no move to action came from the blonde beside her.

With great effort, Emily rolled over and stretched her arm past her sleeping girlfriend to where JJ's cell lay on the bedside table. She blinked a few times, allowing her eyes to adjust to the bright screen.

"It's Hotch," Emily whispered, placing a hand on JJ’s side. "We gotta get up."

JJ sleepily batted Emily's hand away, and despite the urgency of a call from the BAU at 3am, Emily smiled. How unbelievable it was to her that she had the privilege to call Jennifer Jareau her girlfriend, that they had spent the night simply enjoying every aspect of each other, enough to exhaust JJ into a state of ignoring Hotch's call. Seeing her sleeping soundly in Emily's bed, without a worry in the world, exposed a vulnerable side of the younger agent that she had never been allowed to see until recently.

For a moment, Emily considered answering the phone, if only to make the loud ringing stop, but the implications of that were far too great, and she was not prepared for Hotch to ask questions about Emily and JJ dating. After months of dancing around one another, they had finally settled into the rhythm of a wonderful relationship, and she wanted to keep the chats about professionalism and the inevitable teasing away from the exhilaration of it all for as long as she could.

The call went to voicemail, and a text popped up soon after.

Aaron Hotchner: Case in Augusta, Maine — urgent. Could you gather the team?

"Jayje," Emily tried again, this time shaking JJ's shoulder a bit. "We have a case. In Maine."

"Mmm...too cold."

Emily chuckled. "I know, babe. Next time, I'll tell the serial killers to hunt somewhere warmer, okay?"

"Yes, please," JJ tugged Emily's arm to wrap around her as she snuggled deeper into the covers.

"JJ," Emily protested, but she leaned into the embrace and curled her body around her girlfriend. "You need to call the rest of the team too."

JJ heaved a sigh as she took a moment to untangle herself and sit on the edge of the bed. Emily rose as well and tossed her a shirt from the floor.

"This doesn't fit. It's yours," JJ mumbled as she tugged it on.

"It looks good on you," Emily replied.

"You're not even looking."

With the both of them finally dressed, Emily rose to wash up in the bathroom and glanced at JJ, still seated in the same position. The older agent moved back and wrapped a blanket from the bed around her shoulders, drawing out a hum from her girlfriend at the sudden warmth.

"Wash up and call the team in ten minutes, and I'll let you bring the blanket onto the car," Emily promised with a grin, a bargain that finally motivated JJ to follow her to the bathroom.

---

JJ had passed out immediately during the drive, and Emily almost did not have the heart to wake her when they reached the BAU. She parked the car and took a moment to admire the woman slumbering on beside her, blue blanket drawn closely to her chin as she curled up tightly in the front seat.

The parking lot lights were not the most well-maintained, but in the hours before dawn, Emily could've sworn they were made just to illuminate JJ's sleeping face perfectly.

A loud knock on the window jolted both of them out of their respective dreams, as Emily was greeted by the smiling face and waggling eyebrows of one Penelope Garcia. She waved and held up a tray of coffee cups — an apology in advance for the merciless teasing she was about to unleash on the couple.

"Long night?"

"Give me those," Emily grabbed the coffee from her grinning friend and ignored the comment.

"You lovebirds are getting careless," Penelope tutted. "Spencer will take no time to notice that's not JJ's shirt on her, and soon, the whole team will know our little secret."

"You're only in on this secret because of your cyber-snooping," JJ grumbled, slowly dragging her body and blanket out of the car.

"I wouldn't need to cyber-snoop, if the two of you had just told me in the first place," the tech analyst defended herself.

Emily laughed and shook her head as she began to make her way to the building.

JJ frowned at her phone, still rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. "Hotch said to meet on the airstrip. We're briefing on the jet and headed straight to Maine."

"Must be a serious case."

"Kids," JJ's expression was difficult to read, but Emily knew she was struggling to maintain a steady voice as she read through Hotch's texts. "And an Augusta city council member’s two children are missing after a string of ritualistic homicides."

Without another word, the trio proceeded to the tarmac. Emily's hand dropped from JJ's lower back as they neared, seeing Derek and Spencer turn to face the approaching group.

JJ clutched her girlfriend's folded blue blanket closely to her chest, hoping it would hide the shared shirt from her frustratingly observant coworkers as they gathered to board the jet. If Spencer noticed anything, he remained silent, though the gravity of the case suddenly overshadowed any fear of their relationship being exposed.

Hotch handed out the case folders to each of them. “Thanks for coming in so quickly. Children in Augusta are being abducted in pairs,” he explained. “We have four victims so far, with two more children missing. Local police called us as soon as they recognized the ritualistic nature of the killings.”

“Looks like some sort of staging,” Derek observed, flipping through the crime scene images. “One kid is tied up in a chair, the other killed in front of him.”

Spencer hummed in thought. “But look at the way the head is restrained at that angle. It’s like he’s being forced to watch.”

“When we land, Morgan and Reid head straight to the crime scenes,” Hotch said, not looking up from his case file. “Prentiss and Garcia, I need us looking into victimology, any connections in these families beyond them having two children. JJ, we’re going to need to have a hold on what the press is showing, what with these latest abductions being from such a high profile family.”

JJ nodded, keeping an impressively neutral expression on her face, but Emily caught a glimpse of her shaking hands as she closed the manila file and placed it on the table in front of her.

Despite her concern for JJ, Emily couldn't help but stare lovingly as she bundled up in the blanket once more after the briefing, though the flight to Maine was far too short to make up for all the lost sleep from the night before. She dropped her gaze before the rest of the team could catch her staring, but they seemed too engrossed in the files before them to notice.

---

The cases with children were never easy.

Emily could see it in the way JJ's jaw clenched as they stood before the police department, in the tight nod she gave when Spencer asked if she was okay — how every thought was filled with fear over her own son. She could see the blonde wrestling over the fact that yes, Henry was safe with Will hundreds of miles away, but despite everything she knew to be true, the anxious thoughts remained.

“How are you doing?”

They had finally caught a moment alone, but in the middle of the police precinct, Emily didn’t dare to do more than hand JJ another cup of coffee and place a comforting hand on her arm.

“I'm fine."

She was lying, Emily knew. And JJ knew that Emily knew. But there was too much to unpack in the middle of the case, so she let it drop.

JJ picked nervously at her sweater. "I texted Will, and I'm gonna go pick up Henry for the weekend."

"Okay."

There was an uncertain silence.

"I'm not okay, but I will be."

Emily looked at her girlfriend. JJ was blinking hard, eyes searching for something in the room to fix her gaze and mind on. Emily knew how much it had taken to even admit she wasn’t okay, and in the moment, the older agent could offer only her unshakeable faith in JJ’s courage and a promise to be there for her until she came out the other side.

"I know you will."

---

Every press conference, every interview with the victims' parents, every drive to a new crime scene — each had been another crack in JJ's slowly crumbling facade, even after they’d caught the unsub. And after the exhaustion of hiding it from the public, Emily could see just how close she was to breaking down on the jet in front of her teammates.

JJ took her seat by the window and immediately pulled out the blue blanket, draping it loosely around her shoulders. Beside her, Emily longed to hold her close, pulling JJ's head to her chest, whispering words that everything would be alright until JJ had nothing to fear anymore. Instead she reached over and gave her girlfriend's hand a squeeze, a gesture that could at least be seen as platonic if any team members were watching.

JJ forced a thin smile, then turned away from her towards the window, pulling the blanket close.

Emily could sense JJ’s desire to withdraw and shut down, and she felt helpless against it. JJ's breathing slowed, and anyone who didn't know her the way Emily did would have assumed the blonde was asleep.

The dark-haired agent bit her lip and pulled out her phone, sending a quick text to Will.

Rough case today, could JJ talk to Henry?

Within a few moments of Will's 👍🏻 response, JJ’s phone rang, and Emily watched out of the corner of her eye.

JJ's face twisted into a strange expression of concern at the name on the phone, as though expecting the worst for her own child after the horrors they had witnessed on the case.

"Will?"

"HI MOMMY!"

Emily hid a grin as she heard Henry's cry of delight burst through the phone's tiny speaker.

"Hi Henry," JJ's face lit up, the worries from the case fading.

Despite JJ turning down the volume, Henry’s enthusiastic voice could still be heard rather clearly.

“Yes, I’m all finished working now, so I’ll be coming over to get you soon, okay?”

“Is Emmie coming too?” Henry asked.

Emily’s eyes widened, and she heard Penelope turn a fit of laughter into a horribly fake cough. She buried her head in her hands, refusing to look up and around the plane to see if anyone else had heard the nickname Henry had given her after a particularly wonderful date at the zoo.

“I, uh, I don’t know, bud. Maybe some other time,” JJ said quickly, shooting Emily an apologetic look before changing the subject. “I think it’s almost time for bed. Have you gotten ready?”

“I’m not tired,” came the mumbled reply.

“Well, mommy’s tired,” JJ argued. “What story do you want to hear tonight?”

“The moon one.”

JJ glanced out the window of the jet at the night sky and smiled. “The moon one, okay. This story is about two sisters who loved each other very much. They lived together on a farm out in the countryside with lots of animals…”

Emily watched as JJ chatted quietly with her son, beaming the entire time. Though the case had taken a toll on her, JJ would always cherish the little moments with the ones she loved.

The blonde hung up after Henry's bedtime story and fiddled with the fabric on her lap. "Thank you," she said softly.

Emily smiled back and reached a hand under the blanket to hold JJ's — just a hint of the amount of love she wanted to show, but enough to tide the two of them over for the remainder of the flight.

---

“Are you sure you’re okay? And don’t say you’re fine,” Emily asked, not taking her eyes off the road as they drove home.

There was a long pause.

“I don’t know how to protect him,” JJ said, her voice barely a whisper.

“Henry?”

JJ nodded. “We see the worst things every single day. How can I be okay with exposing him to all this? Doing what the unsub did — forcing him to see and know about death so closely.”

Emily took her eyes off the road for a second to look at her girlfriend. Her eyes were angry, but more than that, they were full of fear for her son. She picked anxiously at the blanket still on her lap.

“It’s not the same at all, JJ. You know that,” Emily reassured her. “We spend every day catching the bad guys, doing what we can to save lives.”

“Does it make a difference?” JJ murmured.

“Jayje, Henry admires you, the courage you have in your job. What you do...it shows him that there’s evil in the world, but it can be fought and overcome.”

Emily could see JJ turning the words over in her mind, pitting them against the lies her own thoughts had conjured of her inadequate parenting.

“He’s lucky to have you,” Emily added. “And so am I.”

JJ looked up and inhaled sharply as they turned the corner to Emily's apartment. "I can wash this blanket and give it back to you tomorrow."

Emily's forehead creased. In front of the team, she had been unable to do anything to ease her girlfriend's anxiety during the difficult case, but she had seen the way JJ wrapped herself in the blanket whenever she could, as though the warmth of the cover was instead a comforting embrace from the older agent.

Emily remained silent until the pair had exited the car and were standing hand in hand in front of the apartment.

"Keep it." After what felt like an eternity of not being able to hold her, Emily wrapped the smaller woman into a tight embrace. JJ's arms curled upwards to grasp at Emily's sweater as she buried her face into her neck. For a moment, the two of them rested in each other's arms, and nothing else mattered.

“Keep it as long as you need to, for all the moments I can’t hold you the way I want to.”

#i know it's probably just some cheap airline blanket but let me have this #em dash count: 6 #is she putting out content again who's to say #s/o to taylor swift for endless fic titles #and ty abbie for fic title specifically #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #jemily #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #my post

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seijorhi · 4 years ago

Note

hello, im always on the hunt for new funky fresh yandere!suga content! i really enjoyed the post you made for him, it's exactly up my alley! would it be possible to request a gender neutral reader finding out just how much suga's been stalking them after they left him? by stumbling on something they shouldnt see (could be a dark room, or a journal, whatever youd like) and have him walk in on them then?

Suga will always be my first Haikyuu love, so of course!

Sugawara Koushi x Reader

TW stalking

Red Handed

When you were a little kid, your mom told you a story.

It was about a handsome man with a blue beard, the woman who married him despite the warning signs, and a locked cellar that was never supposed to be opened. You were too young to hear it, but as horrifying as it was - it stuck with you.

Curiosity can be a dangerous thing.

But sometimes… sometimes you just can’t help yourself.

In your defence it wasn’t so much a wilful breaking of trust so much as it was an honest mistake. Sort of.

It’s not the first time you’ve found yourself pouring over textbooks and hastily scrawled notes with Suga, but it is the first time it’s been just the two of you - and the first time it’s been at his place instead of yours.

“I give up,” you moan, letting your head fall flat against your notebook. “I’m gonna fail this stupid exam, drop out of school and have to resort to finding some rich, attractive guy to marry and support me instead.”

You’ve been at it for hours, the two of you spread out on his couch, a mountain of snacks between the two of you. You have to give Suga credit for that - the man knows how to keep you motivated to stay but this, this was beyond your limit. It’s never a good sign when you reread the same sentence five times and still have no idea what it says.

A soft laugh sounds and there’s a hand rubbing soothingly at your back, “Aw c’mon, don’t be so dramatic. You got me, right?”

You lift your head slightly to find him smiling at you with that same fond exasperation, and almost without meaning to you find your frown softening. It’s true. Suga’s pretty much your lifeline at this point - not to mention the reason you’re actually doing pretty well in most of your classes this semester.

God only knew where he found the patience.

“What, you gonna marry me when they kick me out in disgrace?” you ask with a wry half grin, pushing yourself away from your notes. “Take care of my freeloading ass?”

Suga doesn’t say anything for a moment. You brace yourself for the lecture and/or pep-talk he’s given you a thousand and one times before, but when you glance up at him again, the look on his face isn’t the one you’re expecting.

He’s still smiling, but there’s something… odd about it.

It’s just a flash, a flicker of something fleeting in his eyes-

You blink, and whatever it is- was - it’s gone and Suga’s looking at you with the same expression he always wears whenever you start bemoaning your future and the possibility of failing.

Huh… your eyebrows draw together, the faintest hint of unease teasing at your gut. Just for a moment - a split second - you could have sworn that…

But no, you’re just tired. Your brain is absolutely fried after hours studying, whatever you thought you saw, you must have imagined. Because Suga’s your friend. A good friend, maybe the best one you’ve ever had. Still… you really shouldn’t tease him like that.

“Hey, you know I’m kidding, right?” you ask, nudging his shoulder playfully. “Anyway, I think I’m done. I can’t look at these stupid notes anymore - they’re making even less sense than when we started.”

Suga sighs, rolling his neck and flipping the cover of the textbook shut. “Well I suppose it is getting late. Are you hungry? I can order some take out if you want-”

You shake your head before he can finish, “Nah, can’t tonight. I have a date,” you say, shooting him a wink. “Next time though? When everyone’s free. I feel a little guilty stealing all of your time for a one on one session as it is.”

Suga stills for a moment, glancing up to find you smiling sheepishly back at him. “Oh, a date? With that guy from class?” he asks, busying himself in tidying up the notes spread out across the coffee table.

That guy from class. Yeah, the one you haven’t been able to shut up about for weeks. That one.

“Yeah. Nothing crazy, just dinner and a movie - still, I think it’ll be fun, y’know?” You were trying for a blasé tone, but somehow you think the slight dusting of pink on your cheeks kind of ruins it a little bit.

So maybe you were a little excited about it - it wasn’t a crime was it?

Suga gives a non-committal hum, but doesn’t say any more on the topic. Together it doesn’t take the two of you long to clean up, gather your notes and stash the snacks back away for the next study session.

You still have enough time to dart home, have a shower and get ready, but- “Hey, before I go, is it okay if I use your bathroom?” you ask a little shyly. You guys have been friends for months, and you definitely don’t want to come across as rude, but you can’t deny there’s still something slightly embarrassing at having to ask permission.

“Yeah, of course. Down the hallway, last door on the right.”

You nod, thanking him quietly.

It’s a simple mistake. At the end of the hallway, there are two identical doors, both closed over.

Last door on the… left? That’s what he said, right?

You twist the doorknob, easing the door open and within a split second you know that you’ve got the wrong door because this is definitely not a bathroom, but…

Curiosity pushes you forward.

It’s Suga’s bedroom. Your feet move like they have a mind of their own, drawing you in further into his room. You’ve never been to his place before, and you’ve definitely never been in his bedroom before, but you can’t deny that you’re curious. Surprisingly it’s not the mess that you’re expecting - the double bed neatly made and aside from a sweater tossed haphazardly across the back of a chair and a pair of jeans that hadn’t quite made it into the laundry hamper, there’s no dirty clothes littering the floor.

You know it’s rude to pry. You know that, but in that moment you can’t seem to help yourself. Suga won’t mind, really, and it was an honest mistake.

There’s an acoustic guitar in the corner (does he play it, you wonder) and a volleyball covered in signatures sitting on one of the shelves above his desk. Even now, you know that he loves the sport with his whole heart. You’ve never been to a game before, but part of you thinks you’d like to, Suga always makes it sound so exciting. You find a smile creeping across your face as you wander over to have a closer look - there’s photo’s everywhere, in frames, pinned to a cork board on the wall - him with his family, with his friends, even one of the two of you together… and is that a medal?

You’re startled out of your thoughts by your phone vibrating in your pocket.

It should have been a wake up call, a sign from the universe to snap out of whatever nosy spell you’d managed to find yourself under and get out of Sugawara’s bedroom before he comes in to find you blatantly invading his privacy. It should have been - except instead you reach for your phone and fumble.

You’re incredibly thankful for the carpeted floor because you can only watch in horror as your phone clatters to the ground and bounces (bounces!) under his bed.

“Shit!” you curse under your breath, dropping to your knees and resting your cheek against the mattress as you reach blindly into the dark space.

It takes a second of fumbling before your hand lands on something. It’s not your phone, you can tell that much right off the bat - it’s bigger, a box of some kind.

You should have left it.

Really, Sugawara’s a young, healthy guy like any other - you have an inkling of what could be inside the box. And it’s not like you want to see whatever spank bank material your friend has stashed away, you don’t, but…

But there’s a voice in your head that ignores all of that. A voice that whispers so delightfully, so eagerly, for you to just open it.

Open it, it whispers as you slide it out and set it down on the bed, settling yourself down beside it.

Open it, it whispers as you run your fingers along the wooden lid, sanded smooth except for the intricate carving in the centre. It’s strangely beautiful you think - not exactly the kind of box you can imagine filling with something so lewd.

Maybe it’s not what you think… maybe Suga has something else stashed away in this pretty little box. What else could it be? What does a guy like Sugawara Koushi have hidden away under his bed?

Open it, it whispers as your fingers find the edge and you slowly slide it open.

You immediately wish you hadn’t.

It’s you.

The photo’s a little blurry, taken from a distance and zoomed in, but it’s definitely you, lying in your bed, head thrown back with your eyes closed, bottom lip caught between your teeth-

The sheets obscure the rest, but from the flush on your cheeks and the arm disappearing between your spread legs, it’s obvious what you’re doing.

There’s more. You with your friends, laughing. You out with your ex, maybe a month or so before you’d broken up. You in your bedroom again, a white fluffy towel wrapped around you, your hair still wet from the shower.

You walking home from class, taken from behind.

You in your favourite cafe, sitting by the window with a steaming mug in hand, staring out with a soft smile.

You tucked up on the couch, eating dinner with the TV playing in the background.

You.

Every single photograph was of you, and every single one of them taken without your knowledge. Pictures of you from last year, long before you ever met Suga. How long has he been-

You can’t even bring yourself to finish the thought. You feel sick, violated, your hands trembling as you flick through the images. You don’t want to see any more, but you can’t seem to stop yourself. You at the park with your friends, walking their dogs and chatting aimlessly. You bending over to pick up something, the shot framing your ass in a way that seems almost… lewd.

When did he take these? H-how had you never noticed?

Oh god, some of these are from outside your home.

Your stomach churns, you might actually vomit…

“Got lost, baby?”

You jump at the sudden interruption, quickly snapping the lid shut and shoving the little box of horrors away from you like it’s poison, hurried excuses already on the tip of your tongue - but it’s too late for that.

One look at Sugawara, standing framed in the doorway, watching you with an eerily calm expression upon his face and you know that it doesn’t matter what you say. There’s no denying what you’ve seen.

No coming back from it.

His eyes drift to the box, the incriminating pictures spilled across his sheets and he sighs. “You know, I wanted to make this special for you. I wanted to do this right.” His hazel eyes flicker back to you as he steps inside his bedroom and shuts the door behind him. The soft click has never sounded so deafening. So final. “But you just couldn’t help yourself, could you? You just couldn’t keep your nose out of where it doesn’t belong.”

Your heart thumps painfully against your ribs, the sound so loud that you’re sure he has to be able to hear it too. It’s not nausea that seeps through your veins, keeping you frozen in place, but fear. Suga’s always been such a gentle presence in your life but there’s no trace of that person left as he closes the distance between the two of you.

It’s all been a lie, a carefully crafted facade designed to pull you in. Do you even know him at all?

“S-suga, what-”

“Shh,” he murmurs, placing a finger across your lips, a soft, delicate smile playing across his features. “Didn’t your parents ever tell you that curiosity killed the cat?” He pauses for a moment, watching with wicked delight as your face pales and you jerk away from his touch with a strangled gasp. “It’s okay, baby, there’s no need to look so worried. Don’t you know I’d forgive you anything?”

His lips crash against yours before you can even think to reply.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere suga #yandere suga x reader #yandere sugawara koushi #yandere sugawara x reader #yandere sugawara koushi x reader #yandere imagines #my writing #yandere hq #yandere fic #sugawara x reader #suga x reader

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anothertimdrakestan · 4 years ago

Text

Batboys Getting Betrayed By Their S/O HC

Requested? Yes! From a lovely anon!

“Hello! I'd like to make a Batboys reaction request if I may! If writing for all of them is too much please pick whoever you'd like! Have fun with it! Batboys finally catch the villain they've been after for a disgusting amount of time, they grab their mask/helmet, rip it off and BAM!! It's their S/O. How do they react? Thank you for your time!!”

THIS HC TURNED INTO AN EPIC COLLAB BETWEEN @birdy-bat-riya AND WE POPPED OFF!!! Riya really said “lets break the boys heart then give them the best fluff in the world” and I agreed then BAM this beauty. I hope you enjoy and I’m super excited to collab w my tumblr soulmate more!!!

ALSO GO CHECKOUT STAY WITH ME A TIM DRAKE FIC THAT IS KINDA LIKE THIS IF YOU WANT STORYLINE IT’S ONE OF MY FAVES!!!

Damian Wayne

- Damian would not see it coming

- after a painful bout of hand to hand combat, Robin had you stuck to a wall with Batarangs, and he stalked forward

- hoping he would get pulled away by Batman so wouldn’t notice your similarity to the love of his life, you sucked in a deep breath as you realized there was no escape

- “The great villainous sidekick defeated by Robin. Sounds good doesn’t it? But I want to know just who I bested” he quipped, reaching for your mask

- as he pulled it off he froze, your mask dropped to the ground as you began begging for forgiveness

- “Baby it’s not what it looks like! I’m sorry you know I couldn’t tell you! I love you Damian please understand!” you cried, pulling against the batarangs you felt your suit rip as you jumped to the ground reaching for Damian

- Damian looked beyond stunned, trying to process the idea that the one person he trusted above all had betrayed him. He’d spent months hunting, fighting, deeply wound you, then calling you beloved just a couple days later

- pulling yourself forward you flung your arms around him, trying to love him into submission

- instinctively his arms began to wrap around you and you could feel the material of his gloves grace over the exposed parts of your side from where your suit ripped, but he drew them back, pushing you off of him

- “belov- Y/N” his tone was harsh, and broken, “is this really you? You knew I was Robin, and yet you lied to me every day? Learned my weaknesses and my truths all just to use it against me?” you could see him shaking, his domino mask hid his glassy eyes but not his heart broken expression

- you realized he thought you’d only befriended him to use him and you jumped to explain “No! Babe never! I keep this life and our life completely separate! I never used anything and would never tell your secrets to anyone! This, this life [ you gestured to your suit ] is out of necessity, for my survival I have to be strong. But with you, Damian, with you life is worth living, you make my battles worth fighting, everything I do is for us!” you realized how good it felt to let everything go, tears streaming down your face

- Damian looked conflicted, broken because of your betrayal, but you could tell he still loved you

- “Y/N you know I can keep you safe, why? Why live this life when you know of the one we could’ve had together?” Damian

- “I didn’t think of it that way” you whispered, thoughts flying through your head

- “Then let me help you” was all Damian said, and he reached out a hand

- Batman and your boss appeared behind you and Robin, both confused with what was happening

- Bruce looked shocked to see who the villain’s sidekick was, but he was trying to keep his Batman level confidence

- “C’mon kid lets go” you felt a tug on your shoulder, trying to lead you back to your base, but the look Damian was giving you stopped you, unable to turn your shoulder on him

- this was Damian asking you to pick a new life with him. And you knew he was the only thing that truly made him happy, but this would be the end of your reputation, and your safety

- you began to reach for Damian but stopped, needing his reassurance

- “you promise you’ll protect me?”

- “always.” you took his hand, falling into his arms, and decided a future with Damian was better than anything else

Dick Grayson

- Dick didn’t know you were Slade’s protege after Dick told him no all those years ago

- you knew he thought of your villain persona as his greatest opponent and you couldn’t break his heart

- you’d both been in the good guy vs bad guy business since you were kids so you couldn’t expect him to understand, so you hid it.

- he told you he was Nightwing a couple months before and your heart dropped realizing you’d been fighting the love of your life for years, and were trained by one of his greatest tormentors

- in a terrible turn of events you, Nightwing, and Slade all ended up fighting each other, Nightwing and you after Slade for seperate reasons just before his escape he noticed how you couldn’t hurt Dick like you used to

- in an act of revenge for you leaving his side all those years ago, he shouted “catch you later sweet Y/N!” before jumping out a window out of your sight

- Dick’s head whipped to you, a look of confusion at Slade knowing your identity

- hoping he’d missed it you tried to run out of the building and take off

- angy Dick is basically super powered so he caught you (yes i said angy)

- when he rips off your mask and the face he’d adored for years looks up at him he physically can’t stand

- watching the love of your life crumple to the ground is the hardest thing you’ve endured

- frantically trying to explain you keep trying to cup his face in your hand but he pulls away, refusing to look you in the eyes, eventually finding the strength to get up and grapple away

- the entire batfam goes after you. Damian especially, because he trusted you, glad Dick had someone that loved him the way he secretly did. There is no way you’re gonna get away from an angry Batfam especially when their mutual favorite brother has been broken

- I honestly don’t think Dick would let it go back to normal. His family would never approve and knowing you lied for months was too much, he knows what is good and bad for him and is surrounded by family.

- One day the two of you would team up and apologize, continuing forward as mutuals that come when the other needs you, but Dick wouldn’t be able to look at you the same, and Damian would never leave his side, refusing to let Dick get hurt again

Jason Todd

- Jason was used to coming home to you bruised and cut. He never liked to see you battered and bleeding, but he understood it was part of your job as a Criminal Investigator.

- at least that’s what he thought

- you were used to seeing him beat up too. The only difference was that you knew the real reason he came home beaten and injured.

- it was because he would spend his nights fighting you.

- you truly loved Jason, but you couldn't bear to break his heart by telling him the truth. That the woman he loved was his sworn enemy and was lying about it.

- little did you know, he was beginning to get suspicious of your injuries. They seemed a little extreme for an investigative agent, and dare he say, they seemed to match the injuries his enemy walked away with last night.

- then one night, it happened. You were being chased by Red Hood. You thought you were in the clear. And knowing jason would be home any minute, you headed back home, hopping from rooftop-to-rooftop.

- you stopped in the parking lot of your building, about to take off your mask when you heard a voice. Red Hood was leaning on your car, looking more tense than usual. “Go on. Take off the mask.”

- you were mortified. You tried to run but he caught you and you were cornered. He took off the mask and you looked down, afraid to meet his eyes.

- he wasn’t startled or shocked. You heard the seams of his gloves rip as he clenched his fist. You looked up and saw him scowling, but behind the anger, there was so much disappointment. You could see his heart breaking.

- he stepped back and began to walk away. You tried so hard to explain and apologize but he only turned you down, unwilling to see your face.

- realizing everything was ruined, you gave one final apology. “Jason, I know you can’t forgive me. But I truly am sorry. I'm sorry for lying, I’m sorry for hurting you, I’m sorry for everything. But I promise, I really do love you. And I know you might not believe me, but I mean every word.” Tears were streaming down your face, and he wouldn’t let you see it, but they were brimming in his.

- you left and didn’t come back. You kept your distance from Jason but made sure you knew was still alright. He was frequenting bars, skipping patrols. You began to worry when he was nowhere to be found, so you donned the mask once more, only without your usual uniform.

- that night, to your disbelief, you found the Red Hood fighting some petty cat burglars outside of a museum. You noticed how his punches held more force than they used to and felt a little pained, seeing his hurt in his movements.

- while he was taking care of the robbers, you saw one of them run off to a car with a jade vase and instinctively charged in. You hopped in the car roof and swung into the passenger seat, knocked out the driver, and safely drove the car back.

- you put the vase back where it belonged and left the scene of the crime without anyone’s attention.

- Red Hood turned the burglars over to the cops. There was something about a tripped alarm and missing vase but the item was kept exactly where it was meant to be when they checked.

- he was about to trudge away when he heard something. “This masked broad, she jumped into the car! From the bloody window!” His mind wandered. It couldn’t be…

- that night, you returned to one of your old safehouses and headed to your closet to put away your mask, but the first thing you saw was your suit. You looked at the domino mask in your hand and all you could remember was Jason’s face when he found out. Right then and there, you threw it all away.

- months passed. You hadn’t heard from or seen Jason Todd. You revamped your suit and donned a new mask. You went by your old name still. You couldn’t change who you were, and you didn't want to either.

- the only difference now was that you didn’t kill. something tilted the needle on your moral compass, and as much you wanted to deny it, Jason rubbed off on you.

- you took your burglary jobs, and got into your own type of trouble, but you could almost always handle it. Emphasis on the ‘almost’

- once or twice you bit off more than you could chew, for example the time when you needed to collect some money from a Bludhaven gang. you were outnumbered and unarmed. just when you thought it was all over for you, you heard two gunshots and violent cursing.

- you found yourself standing before two gangsters with bloody hands and one Red Hood. “You’re welcome.”, he said with his usual snarky tone, muffled by his helmet.

- this was the first of many times he would save you. You would drop in on his gigs sometimes as well, just to lend a helping gun.

- bad blood aside, you were always there for eachother. He meant it as a silent acceptance of your apology and that’s exactly how you took it.

- soon enough the tension faded, you both went down your own roads but found comfort in knowing that you were never alone. It was an unspoken pact that when one of you needed the other, you’d never be far.

Tim Drake

- Tim would notice something, maybe you stuffing your suit in your trunk, you using a phrase his enemy always used, something that gave him the wrong feeling

- he’d push it away, always wanting to believe the best of you

- but eventually it wouldn’t add up

- Tim came over one night and made a beeline to the back of your closet, a drawer he never saw you open during all the years of knowing you

- you heard a small gasp when he pulled out the suit of his rival, the strangled sound of disbelief was the last noise he made before he threw your suit on the floor and stormed out, and it was the last you saw of him for months

- watching the news seeing “RED ROBIN GONE BAD?” or “IS THIS IS THE SAME HERO?” as you watched Tim become more and more reckless and cruel. Tim rarely got so physical the medics came instead of the police but watching him through your screen you saw a new person

- seeing Tim (and Red Robin) break down on television gave you the realization of the necessity behind Tim’s heroics

- almost as an homage to his heart break he began using the moves you’re villainous alter ego used on him on his new targets, showing you the hurt and the damage you’d done to your victims

- after weeks of watching the torture you knew villainy wasn’t worth it if it meant Tim was broken like this

- knowing he’d be on patrol like always you waited on the top of the building he’d brought you to the night you started dating, hoping he’d miss the memory as much as you did

- rushing up to him, begging for him to listen, even after the heart break Tim couldn’t say no to you, and he needed to know why, this was a mystery he really couldn’t piece together

- frantically explaining everything from your childhood forward, you couldn’t stop, the honestly was refreshing, and Tim listened the whole time

- after admitting everything you brought your suit out, and in front of Tim you began to rip it to shreds, hoping he’d see the meaning behind your words

- this was a lot for Tim, and he asked for a week to settle his feelings

- Red Robin was inactive for a week, 168 hours you spent praying to anything that he’d take you back

- and exactly one week later, you were holding your head in your hands sobbing, wishing you could’ve changed earlier and hoping Tim would go back to his heroism - when you heard your apartment window carefully opening

- Tim came back, suited up, holding a new suit for you that he’d had created

- Tim explained that he wanted you back, and he intended on helping you fix all your past mistakes, one life saved at a time

- you often looked back on the news from that week, the headlines showed a new chapter of your life

“RED ROBIN AND NIGHTINGALE Y CRIME FIGHTING DUO!” “RED ROBIN IS BACK AND BETTER THAN EVER WITH A NEW HERO AT HIS SIDE!”

I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS IS A REMINDER TO GO FOLLOW @birdy-bat-riyaBECAUSE SHE IS THE REASON THIS IS SO AMAZING ILY GIRLY

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years ago

Text

Omertà👄2

Warnings: noncon sexual acts (sexual intercourse); tags to be added throughout series

This is dark!Bucky and dark! Loki and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your father was a bookie and taught you everything you know about numbers. After his death, you were taken on as a bookkeeper for Loki Laufeyson, resident crime boss in Manhattan. But can you keep your place in the background when a man from Brooklyn threatens to drag you to the forefront?

Note: We vibing these two bad boys so here’s chapter 2. Be safe.

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

The dress was plain, but you were certai, nice enough for the occasion. You didn’t expect Loki’s approval, that was a rarity, but you were content in your malicious compliance. The long burgundy crepe was held up by thin straps and hugged your body enough not to be entirely baggish. You wore a thin black shawl over your shoulders as you hailed a cab and gave the closest intersection to the underground club.

You hadn’t been this dressed up since your regrettable prom night. Then you were still naive enough to dream about a Lizzie Maguire fairytale. You hadn’t even been arm candy that night, you had merely been a ploy to make some other girl jealous. You’d left early upon the realisation. ‘Fuck ‘em’, your dad had given his usual snipe and since your inner monologue tended to echo him.

A decade later, a little more than, and your cynicism had aged like a stringent and oaky whiskey. You hooked the strap of your small beaded clutch around your wrist as you got out of the cab and peered down the street. Streetlights illuminated the smoke blowing up from the sewer and distant neon light stared back at you from the end of the block.

You would appease Loki and whatever game he was playing. You knew his moods, his tricks. He grew bored often and quickly flitted to his next delight. You suspected he was merely reminding himself of his power after a near disastrous war. And you, too.

You descended the iron steps and knocked on the painted door. The tiny slat slid open and a muffled din wafted through. “Slate,” A voice cut through the night and you replied swiftly, “Pyramid”. A heavy lock turned and you were let into the dark corridor.

You’d been here once before. You were sixteen, your father had been with you. He’d played a game of Hold ‘Em with Diablo and won a few times too many. The two of you had barely escaped before the droopy-eyed owner caught on. That was long ago and yet, nothing had changed.

There was a thick velvet curtain at the end of the hallway. The doorman escorted you to it and pulled it back to reveal a bright room full of men in tailored suits and women draped off their arms like peacocks. You shook your head and stepped through. You needed a drink. You needed an excuse to turn back. But you went on.

Loki was slender but tall, a few inches above most men. You saw him amid the crowd, a snifter held to his nose as he inhaled the scent of the dark liquor. You passed a man in a crushed velvet jacket and his eyes caught yours. His arm was around a slinky redhead distracted by another boisterous guest. He winked and you scowled.

You wove through the bodies and appeared at Loki’s shoulder.

“Where do I get some of that?” You pointed to his glass and he looked down his long nose at you. If he was surprised, it was hard to tell. Only the slight part of his lips cracked his stony veneer.

“Darling, I’d stick to the wine,” He preened.

“Darling?” You scoffed. “You know my name.”

He smirked and turned to you entirely. He was overt as he looked you up and down and touched the fabric at your waist.

“I thought I said to wear something nice,” He muttered. “At least I can see your eyes.”

“You told me to wear a dress. Should I have gone with the black victorian number?” You challenged.

He considered you as his smirk fell.

“Kitty has found her claws,” He taunted. “Best she keeps her growls to herself.”

“I don’t understand why I’m here,” You said. “Tell me you couldn’t find a better date among your harem.”

“Harem? You make me sound a king,” He mused. “As you are so generous to yourself. This is not a date, darling.”

“Then what is it? Is it really necessary for you to wag your--”

“Watch it,” He warned as he pointed his long index finger at you. “You’re not playing at this anymore. You are made or you are burned. There is no in-between.”

“I tend to doubt your concern for my standing so long as my work benefits your own,” You said. “So forgive my suspicion.”

“Your father was on the scene, he made a name, as detestable as it is, and your grandfather has not been forgotten either,” He said. “We are both a part of this city’s legacy.”

“Mm,” You arched a brow. “I still don’t believe you.”

“Believe what you will.” He shrugged. “But best to start thinking for yourself before another does it for you.”

You squinted and looked around. A woman in a feather dress carried a tray of tall wine glasses. You preferred another taste but you would settle for the pale chardonnay. You beckoned her over and took one as Loki perused the room.

“Is this all you do at these things?” You sipped. “Coil like a snake in the corner?”

“I observe. I learn.” He grinned. “And the snake does not bow to the mice, rather they cower before him.”

“Poetic,” You said dryly.

“Well,” A deep voice came from your left and you looked to the man you vaguely recognized. His golden brocade was embroidered with dragons; a gaudy Oriental knock-off. Finely tailored but still ill-fit to his person. “Is that Georgey’s girl?”

You greeted him with your usual straight-lipped stare. You batted your lashes sharply and he chuckled.

“I remember you,” He carried on. “You’ve grown.”

“As have you,” You gestured to his stomach, poorly hidden beneath the gauche jacket.

He laughed even louder and turned to Loki.

“I did hear you had the bookie’s daughter,” He boomed. “I wouldn’t trust that ilk to keep my books but call me prudish.”

“Don’t you worry, I wouldn’t touch your books over my father’s dead body,” You snorted. “Even I couldn’t untangle that knot with a blade.”

“Oh, I see,” Diablo shook his head. “The mouth on her.”

“Yes, rather endearing, isn’t it?” He sneered.

“Not sure anyone else would agree,” Diablo said. “The prettier one’s are much quieter.”

“Yet--” You began.

Loki raised his hand to silence you. You clamped your ships and your nostrils flared in anger.

“Let us excuse ourselves,” Loki gestured Diablo away. “And discuss in private, yes?”

“Best while everyone else is distracted,” Diablo replied and peeked over at you. “I dread our next meeting.”

“As do I,” You assured him.

Loki looked at you from the corner of his eye as his lip curled. He directed Diablo away from you and you watched them go, a smirk slowly spread across your face. You never wanted to make your father proud but he would’ve been beaming.

You finished your drink and searched for a table to dispose of it. You set it down carefully on a tall corner table and slipped your shawl down around your elbow. You glanced around. You thought of fleeing as Loki was distracted but you knew he wouldn’t forget you. In fact, it seemed he had grown intent on you for whatever reason.

A shadow blotted the edge of your vision and you turned to greet your assailant. You were slightly surprised to find Bucky Barnes closing in. He smiled and tilted his head as he stopped before you. He wore a deep violet jacket over navy trousers, his eyes shone in the contrast.

“I wasn’t sure you got my invitation,” He said.

“Invitation?” You shook your head. “What--”

“Loki, he-- I mentioned I’d like to see you again,” He said staunchly.

“What?” You scrunched your brow.

“I like the colour,” He admired your dress. “But I think a different cut might suit you better.”

“Oh, I didn’t take you as a purveyor of fashion. Well, nothing beyond a g-string and stilettos.” You huffed.

“Ah, I run a pretty classy joint,” He winked. “My girls have nothing but the best, even if it isn’t much.”

You pushed your shoulders back and looked around once more.

“Well, I was not told my presence was at your whim,” You said. “In fact, my being here is entirely undesirable.”

“If I had my way, sweetheart, you’d be doing a lot more than just standing here in that pretty little number,” He snickered.

You looked at him sharply.

“I need a drink,” You stormed off in search of the girl in the feathered dress.

You sensed him following behind you but ignored him. As you made to swipe a glass from the tray, he reached around you and grabbed it first. He caught your hand before you could take another and drew you back to him as he placed the slender flute into your hand.

“I wasn’t done, sweetheart,” He closed your fingers around the glass.

You were livid. Had Loki brought you here to whore you out? Another pawn to secure his peace?

“Loki’s my boss but he is not my pimp,” You pulled away from him.

“I didn’t say that,” He said. “I didn’t think it, either.”

You flicked the glass at him so the chardonnay splashed across his front and dripped down his face.

“Not interested,” You snarled and swept away with the empty glass.

“Sweetheart,” He sang from behind you. “I wouldn’t do this.”

“Get away from me,” You rushed away from him towards the door. “If you see Loki, tell him I’ll see him at the shop. To be frank, I don’t care either way.”

“We can just talk,” He purred. “Come on. You haven’t even given me a chance.” He caught your elbow and turned you back. “No other girl has ever thrown her drink in my face because if she had, I’d break hers. Now, I have no intention of hurting you. You see, I will look past your little slip.”

“I came here for business, or so I was told,” You said. “I am not interested in talking to you about anything beyond that.”

“Is this about the boss, hmm? This has nothing to do with him or our relationship, if that’s what you think.”

“I think you are all the same. You all just like to poke and poke and poke at each other until guns come out.” You said. “And I’m not going to be a part of whatever you two are doing.”

“Your loyalty is admirable, especially around here,” He kept hold of you. “Loki doesn’t even know what he’s got.”

“Let go,” You ripped your arm away. “I am not interested in being a comare. Especially yours.”

His brows lifted and slowly he smiled. His blue eyes twinkled and he wiped away the last of the chardonnay with his sleeve as the rest soaked into the front of his jacket.

“Comare… noooo.” He coaxed. “No, you’re not that type.”

You rolled your eyes and turned away from him. His arm shot out and he planted his hand against the wall to block you. You sighed and crossed your arms.

“Look, I know you, you’re just like the rest of them. You don’t like being told no. Little baby.” You snarled. “But I don’t like to repeat myself. So--”

“There you are,” Loki called from behind you. Bucky pushed himself straight as you looked over your shoulder. “Barnes…” He lifted his chin as he approached.

“Loki,” Bucky’s jaw squared. “I was just getting to know your little secretary, but she’s not very chatty. Hasn’t even given me her name.”

Loki snickered and peeked over at you.

“Don’t be rude, darling,” He said. You bit down and looked at Bucky and stiffly recited your name. He smirked. “She’s shy, that’s all.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Bucky countered. “I feel like you’ve been sneaky, hiding her away.”

“Well,” Loki’s arm slowly snaked around your waist. “I thought we agreed to keep to our own territory.”

You went rigid and tried to pull away. Loki tightened his hold and kept you against him. Bucky watched you squirm and his thoughts wrinkled his forehead.

“And I thought we were just becoming friends,” Bucky returned.

“Allies,” Loki corrected. “Have I not been peaceable?”

Bucky poked his cheek with his tongue as he glanced over at you. You stared at him blankly and he nodded.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He cleared his throat. “Both of you?”

“Of course,” Loki spread his hand over your hip and squeezed. “You know where to find… us.”

“I do,” Bucky affirmed and turned away.

You watched him go and wished you had more wine to throw as you stared at your empty glass. You tore away from Loki and jabbed his arm.

“What the fuck was that?” You snapped.

“That, darling, was how you play the game.” He grinned.

“You’re disgusting.” You glared at him.

“Oh, I wouldn’t deny that but you see, that man, oh, he is a tough nut to crack but I’ve finally found something he wants.” He said. “Something he really wants, not just some stretch of land.”

“No, no,” You spun and set your glass down. “No, I will not do this.”

His heels clicked behind you as you closed the distance to the curtained door. He shoved you through and pulled the velvet back into place as he grabbed your wrist.

“You will do whatever I want you to do.” He lowered his voice as his shadow loomed over you in the dark corridor. “You are good at what you do; your numbers, and I am sure you will recall a little jot in your margin. That one marked with the star.” He squeezed your wrist. “That’s you, darling.”

“Me?” You sputtered.

“Diablo, along with Viscardi, old pals with your father.” His other hand played with the strap of your dress. You gulped at the latter, the name of your father’s killer. “That bounty was not just for old Georgey, that was for every drop of his blood left. You…”

“No, no.” You said.

“I paid that bounty. I still pay it and it keeps you alive and in my pocket, until I should need you and your time has come.” He taunted.

“I don’t--”

“My father always said the best investments are people.” He touched your neck and tickled. “They are the most useful tools in this business. The most profitable.” He drew away and stroked your chin. “Know your worth, darling, and you might just prosper from it.”

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artxyra · 4 years ago

Note

So, me and @ThatWeirdPepperMint were wondering if you could do this request. Jason one day sneaks out and goes to a nearby ally where he finds Marinette not knowing that the fam was following. He asks Mari about buying mini guns and she gets them out of her heels, he ends up with gun-heels and wears them as as Red Hood. In that week all the fam got something from her. Tim got usb-nails. Dick got jetpack heels and retractable zip line watch. Damian got infi-purse. And Bruce got a tiara-shield.

Note: I totally did not look up Totally Spies gadgets for inspiration for some of the weapons.

It was Dick who suspected that something was up with Jason. The second oldest Wayne had been disappearing more often than usual only to return with a weapon he has never seen it in the stores. He tried to get information out of his brother about where he was but was only meet with the usual stream of threats or a careless shrug before disappearing for days on end.

The next to figure something was off, was Damian. Though for the youngest Wayne he had little care for his second oldest brother. Damian had run into Jason holding his newest weapon that was completely out of character for him. It was some kind of belt that had an expandable cable bungee. The belt did not go with his Red Hood outfit at the time, but before Damian had the chance to interrogate the male about the item, Jason had disappeared.

Then there was Tim and he had actually found out by going to get a late-night coffee and somehow ended up bumping into his predecessor, who was coming out of an alleyway with a bracelet in hand. At first, the coffee addict didn’t think much of until the idea that Jason had a secret lover pop into his brain. Instead of letting that idea down, he ended up entering a constantly dead-end investigation.

It was no shock that everyone else involved with the Wayne family's nightly activities was also intrigued by Jason’s newest additions of weapons. However, what shocked them all was when Stephanie (Steph) returned with Jason with a pair of diamond earrings. Of course, speculations began to grow among everyone, but when Spoiler ended up using the same new pair of earrings as a cutting tool they knew that whoever was making these weapons just so happened to include Steph as a client.

For half a year, they have tried to find this unique weapon dealer that Jason (and sometimes Steph) happily order from, only to be met with more dead ends. Fortunately for them, their search will soon come to an end.

Jason had broken his latest gadget, a wristwatch, on his latest mission. Dick managed to gather the immediate family (i.e. Tim, Damian, and Bruce) to follow the person behind the Red Hood anti-hero. However, Jason was streets smart. He zigged through the city; they had nearly lost him until the anti-hero had reached an alleyway just blocks away from crime alley. The family watch over the scene on the rooftops staying in the shadows.

Jason had entered from the alley’s opening and is immediately greeted by a shield of fog. The anti-hero doesn’t seem deterred from the scene before him.

“Arme chanceuse.” He states in the direction of the fog. Jason was no idiot; he knew his family is watching him, but he just couldn’t find any fucks to give at the moment.

The Batfam is shocked by the appearance of a female, looking no older than Damian. This female has long dark hair curled at the end with a mix of pink and red highlights. She was wearing in a two-piece dress, the top being a long sleeve laced with an intricate design as her skirt had a waist-high slit showcasing a pair of dark leggings and black heeled combat boots with pink and red shoestrings.

“You’re not alone, Jay-Jay.” She says crossing her arms and taking a sit in a chair that was behind a red and black table.

“Don’t care enough, Pixie. They’ve been trying to find this out for six months and at this moment, I don’t have any fucks to give. So, can you help?” Jason states causing the infamous weapon dealer to smirk.

“What you need.” She sasses back to her client.

“Miniguns the best you got.” He says giving her a knowing look.

The dealer sighs and puckers her lips. “I was saving these for Steph, but you apparently need them more.” The fog grows around the dealer and it fades away, in her hands are a pair of black heels.

“Uh, what the fuck?”

“Do you want the guns or not? The heels are the barrels, there is a safety mechanism outside the heels that you can access to minimize unwanted triggers. The magazine is on the shank. Not my best work but these combat heel boots can get the job done.” She explains gesturing to every area she talked about.

Jason picks up the heels and examines them. “Now I understand why these were meant for Steph. Thanks, Pixie, I’ll take good care of them.”

“You better!” She cries out before continuing with, “The amount of material and thinking to make them work took ages, Jay, ages!”

Jason chuckles before wishing his dealer a goodbye.

Before the Batfam could incept the two, the fog blocks their vision and suddenly it was just Jason alone in an alleyway looking the same expect the newest addition of a pair of heeled boots on his feet.

They did not see Jason again until the patrol as Red Hood.

“So, Hood, where did you get the heels? They’re looking pretty nice.” It was Nightwing that would ask first.

“Like you don’t know.” The anti-hero grunts and struts away from his oldest brother. Nightwing stares aghast and somewhat offended.

At first, the boys thought the heels were nothing but a bad joke but to see Red Hood in action, taking down each of his opponents, they knew this for real. Maybe, just maybe, they should talk to whoever this Pixie is that Jason gets his weapons from.

It was only a few nights later when the bat family corner Jason, place him in a dark room (tied up of course) and stood over him. Jason glares at his family and mentally thinks of ways to get rid of them all. The option of murder was high on his list of suggestions.

“Who’s Pixie?” Dick’s voice pipes causing every muscle in Jason to just give up. Seriously all of this just to get information about his weapon dealer.

That night led to the family officially meeting the person Jason calls Pixie the next day.

Pixie stares at her favorite customer with an eyebrow raised and arms folded against her chest. The greetings were stale only met with grunts and an awkward smile from Dick.

“Hi, I’m Marinette, you don’t have to call me Pixie, but I have some rules when it comes to doing business with me. I don’t make standard weapons. I only deal with those who deserve it, and money is the least of my concerns though it is welcomed.” Immediately, they knew they had just entered a business. A business that Jason, and in extension Steph, has been familiar with for months.

She gives them the secret word that would “summon” her for business. She only deals at night and at various alleyways. They also found out that she has a life outside of all this and sometimes would have to cancel if that was the case Jason would tell them. Wrapping up this tremendous moment, she gives them a week to figure out what they would like before disappearing in the fog that brought her there.

Throughout the week, each of the bat members tried to convince Jason to give them Marinette’s current location, and then go to Steph when Jason wasn’t bothered to be around them.

Tim went to Steph for Marinette's latest location. He ends up placing an order for a USB drive; what he got was beyond his coffee-addicted brain.

“This USB nail is the perfect disguise for quick transfers, it works just like any USB out there and looks and feels like a fake nail. You can transfer up to 128 gigabits. Though be careful, the nail can break with an excessive amount of force.”

Since that day, Tim has been using the nails for hacking or work assignments. He begins to swear by them.

On multiple occasions, Tim swears he had seen Dick wearing Red Hood’s gun boots and a longer version of his nails on a couple of occasions. Dick denies it every time, but they all knew the truth.

It took a while before Dick had come up with his ideal first weapon from Marinette. He wanted something grand and out of this world.

“You want jet pack heels and a zip line wristwatch,” Marinette states slowly trying to wrap her head around her newest order. It’s not something she isn’t used to, but the way he had explained it to her with this silly look on his face just creeped her out. “Okay.”

That night when Nightwing was on patrol, he was having a ball showcasing his new weapons. Batman had yelled at the male upon realizing that he was wearing something that was impractical. Nightwing flies away with his jet pack heels activated. Batman could only sigh and wonder how this even happened.

The next person to receive their Marinette original was Damian. The youngest Wayne had met with the weapon dealer in secret hoping that his family didn’t catch sight of him. He could only imagine the horror that would come with them finding out.

If it wasn’t for that fact that Marinette looked around Damian’s age, it looked like a drug-dealing going on as Damian was dressed in all black and a hood covering his face. Upon seeing him, Marinette managed to hold in her laughter.

“You want an infinity purse, should I even ask why?”

“It’s better for you not to know.”

Marinette accepts that answer and disappears into the fog. She comes out with a tote with Robin’s emblem in addition to her own. She hands the bag over to the Wayne and explains the limitations the bag carries.

It is said that Damian has pulled various weapons on different people when they make fun of the bag. Some make it out without a scratch while others don’t even speak of the incident anymore.

The most shocking of appearances came from Bruce Wayne, himself. He had come alone to meet with Marinette. At first, she thought it was a gift for the girls or a really bad joke with some hidden scheme behind it. Once she thought of it, it wasn’t a bad idea.

“Are you sure? This could ruin your bad boy aesthetic.” Marinette says giving the tall man an out.

“Yes.” Short and simple. Marinette nods and disappears into the fog.

When she returns, in her hands is a solid black tiara along with it are diamonds in the shape of bats. Sliding it across the table Marinette begins to discuss the weapon. The tiara can turn into a shield with a twist of a diamond. Bruce graciously accepts the weapon before testing it out. Upon seeing it in its shield form, Bruce begins to wonder what age the dealer is and how can he get her to join the family officially.

After everyone in the bat family received weapons that aren’t usual apart of their list of gadgets the league members begin to question their sanity. They thought Bruce was joking when they saw him with the tiara, but once it dawned on them that he never jokes, it was Flash that went around screaming his head off.

“You can rule the world, Pixie,” Jason says joining the small female in the darkness as she watches the bad guys being taken down by her own weapons.

“Eh, we knew this day would come.” She says with a smile on her face.

“Damn, Pixie, you know B-man is already in the process of trying to adopt you. You fit all the Wayne requirements to being adopted.”

“I think he already has. He’s been visiting more and more often with Steph under the pretense of getting new weapons. Damian also comes and goes as he pleases, he’s like a cat.” Marinette says glancing at the second oldest Wayne.

“Welcome to the family, sis."

Tag List: *View my Tagging System guidelines for how to to be properly tagged or removed.

#maribat #ml x dc #mlb x dc #dc crossover #ml crossover #no ships

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