#Part 16

[thevoidstaredback]

How To Balance Your Daytime and Nighttime Activities So That You Don't Burn Yourself Out More Than You Already Have

Batman has an insane patrol schedule. Danny knew this, somewhere in the back of his mind, but it was only just settling in for him.

"You're gonna be dead tired tomorrow," he warns Dick, "You were tired for only being out for two hours longer than your new normal, going from sunset to sunrise is gonna knock you out. I can't drive, Dick, so we'll be stuck in Gotham for another day if you pass out."

Dick patted his head with a smile. "I'll be fine. I'll vene bring ya back some Bat Burger, okay?"

Danny blinked. "Bat Burger?"

"You've- You've never had Bat Burger?" Louder, he called to Barbra and Tim who'd just come back from wherever the Cave entrance is with a comm for Danny, "Danny's never had Bat Burger!"

Barbra gasped dramatically. Tim clutched ay imaginary pearls. "You've never had Bat Burger?!"

"That sounds like an exclusively Gotham thing, and I am decidedly not from Gotham."

It was quiet for another moment as the three stared at him. Finally, Dick blinked. "Have you always been Midwestern?"

"As far as I know, why?"

His head tilted slightly to the left. "Your accent just seems..."

"Much more prevalent." Tim finished.

"Yeah, that."

“I don’t know what you guys are talking about. I’ve always talked like this.” A lie. He was hiding his accent from everyone so that tracking him down would be ever so slightly harder. Danny shrugged, “Right, Barbra?”

She shook her head. "No, you leave me outta this. As far as I know, you've sounded like this the whole time and these two are only just picking up on the accent."

Good job, Danny. Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlboss your way into their hearts.

"Anyway," Barbra continued, holding her hand to Danny, "This is a comm. It'll keep you patched in until we come back up to the manor after patrol. If you get tired of us or when you sleep, just take it out and put it on your nightstand; we'll take it back down in the morning for you."

"Are you sure you don't wanna come to the Cave?" Tim asked.

Danny shook his head, the comm now sitting in his left ear. "Mister Wayne already hates me, I'm not gonna go into his space. Besides, I'm already intruding as it is."

"I just don't want you to be bored."

"It's alright, I'm sure I'll find something to occupy myself with while you guys are out. And, isn't the whole point of me being on comms so that you guys can talk to me?"

"You're right," Dick agreed, "We'll see ya when we get back."

"Alright."

Occupy himself with? Yeah, he's going back to Bludhaven. Another problem he just realized, though: How is Bat Tech going to react to/around Phantom? Danny figures he has about two minutes to figure it out or he's gonna have to bench himself for the night.

There was no one around, so he ducked into the nearest room to transform. It was a quick lightshow, as always, but not enough to draw attention of anyone passing by.

Except Alfred. Alfred probably knows.

Alfred won't tell Bruce, right?

Right?

Probably not.

Hopefully.

Focusing on the comm revealed no static, though there was no sound either. Was someone trying to talk to him already? Hopefully not. That'd be upsetting.

There was a soft crackle before: "Danny, can you hear us?"

Phantom allowed a small smile of victory. "Yeah, loud and clear, Barbra."

"Call me Batgirl right now, okay? Tim's Robin, and, as you know, Dick's Nightwing. And, if you really need him, Bruce is Batman."

"Got it."

"We don't use real names on comms," Robin said, "Do you have something we could call you?"

That's probably a fish for what his hero name used to be. All three of them - Tim, at the very least - were hung up on the 'not anymore' of his denial and it really showed. He could make it easy and tell them to call him Phantom, but he really does not want them finding out his childhood right now. So, "Tutelary."

"'Tutelary'?" Nightwing asked.

"It's Greek," Batgirl said, "Tutelaries are deities or patrons of protection."

"Aw, that's cute," Robin cooed teasingly, "But you aren't doing much protecting from the Manor."

Phantom - is he really ready to give up that name? - blushed green, "Shut up. Protection Spirits are a big deal where I'm from!" Yeah, meaning most people don't actually think they're protecting them, but who really cares about technicalities?

"And that would be..?" Batman spoke up, his voice coming out much more 'gargle glass' over the comms than was probably intended.

Phantom smirked. "The Midwest." Limits options, but not specifically but he figured he could throw them a bone. Though, that's the only one he's giving Mister Wayne.

Speaking of, "I'll try not to be a distraction, Mister Batman sir, but I won't make any promises."

Nightwing, Batgirl and Robin were all sniggering. Batman was quiet for no more than a few seconds. "Stop getting distracted; We're leaving."

"Yes, sir!"

Phantom listened closely, focusing on the Cave below the Manor. Batman and Robin had gotten into some kind of assault vehicle-race car mix and were driving out into Gotham Proper quickly. Nightwing and Batgirl were both on motorcycles, leaving out a different way but just as quickly.

"Have fun out there, you guys."

Nightwing laughed, "We'll bring ya back some Bat Burger."

Part 15 Part 17

Real quick, before you move on, a quick Thank You to @bianca-hooks123 for the idea for Danny's name Tutelary. I hadn't even thought of using that until it was suggested, so thanks <3

[stardancerluv]

What the Emperor Wants

Part Sixteen

Summary: Words are expressed and lives are in endangered.

Notes/Warnings: 18+, violence, threats made, anger is expressed.

ientaculum: breakfast in Ancient Rome.

❤️s, reblogs, comments, feedback, & reblogs are always appreciated. 💐Thank you for reading!💐

You swallowed.

“She, she…” Your voice trailed off as he drew closer.

“Tell me.”

“I am aware, I should not feel a knot of despair, but your mother told me that you and Caracalla had laid with Tertia.”

A smirk curled his lips, your stomach lurched.

“Did she?”

“Yes, Geta. I feel like a fool. It was before you and I, I…”.

The words stumbled as your anguish grew stronger.

“I should not feel as twisted like the ropes that keep the sails steady on a boat.”

You were so caught up in the whirl of those emotions, you were startled as his slender, fingers gripped your chin and brought your face up. All you could do was look into his eyes which were as dark as earth after a heavy rain.

As your name passed his lips, every part of you felt it.

“Yes.” Inwardly, you began to wilt. You had gone too far, you were convinced. You should have shielded your feelings.

“Before I utter anything of my past with Tertia, tell me why you feel this way.”

You pressed your lips together. “If that is what you wish.”

“It is.”

“She had been tucked away in her small room, much like the one you had retrieved me from. When she had taken ill. Many of us feared we’d catch her malady. Blessings from the gods kept it away from us. In her absence, chances were given to us. Mine was the royal box.”

Geta nodded. His hand continued to hold you in place. Oddly, it kept you focused.

“When good health had finally began to wash over her, she searched me out. She had found out I had taken her place in the royal box. She refused to believe me when I told her I had not asked to be placed there. I had not believed in my ability to serve there.”

He made a face, you couldn’t read but you continued.

“I tried to walk away from her, after seeing she wouldn’t listen or believe my words. A few short steps later and she was pulling me to the ground, by my braids. She demanded I tell her…”

His thumb grazed your lips, silencing you before he drew his fingers away and pressed a soft kiss to your lips.

Blinking you were swept away from the past you had been speaking of and brought right back to Geta as he spoke again.

“Continue.”

“After that?” You licked your bottom lip. You tasted a trace of his own taste and a mere trifle of the wine he must have been sipping on.

He chuckled. “Yes.”

“Geta, you can be quite the distraction.”

He smirked. “You were in the royal box.”

Your eyes grew as you heard what he said.

“Now continue. We need to this to be addressed.”

“Yes, Geta.” You swallowed. “She wanted to me to tell her everything that took place. Like if I had spoken with either you or Caracalla or even Acasius. Blandus heard the fight, broke it up and this time she was sent to her room as punishment. And I had not seen her till we returned from the country.”

You paused as you caught get looking you over.

“Did she hurt you?”

You shook your head. “The hair pulling stung but no, I was find.”

“Good.”

“Earlier, the shadow that fell over me was because your mother spoke of how you and Caracalla laid with her.”

He rose an eyebrow, earlier he told his mother the truth. He wondered what she was playing at; saying that to his future wife. He pressed his lips together.

“The truth is, she was given to me. I was supposed to explore the more carnal side of life with her. From the beginning, she expressed a preference to Caracalla and his love for blood and violence so I lost interest in her.” He made a face. “Simply I never touched her.”

Your heart skipped. “Truly, Geta?”

“Yes.”

You took his hand and pressed a few kissed to his knuckles. When you glanced at him from under your lashes you caught sight of a smile.

“So, now I wonder if I should remove her from the palace?”

“Does she still share her time with Caracalla?”

He shrugged. “I believe so, not terribly sure.”

“If she pleases him. Leave her.” You chewed the inside of your cheek. “Of course, what you decide I will follow.”

“My sweet blossom.” He sighed. “It has been a terribly long day.”

You nodded.

“Why don’t I have some baths drawn for us to relax in before the banquet tonight to honor my mother.”

“That would be very pleasing.”

******

The warm water swirled around you. The air was fragrant. You inhaled deeply and felt yourself relax further. Closing your eyes, you rolled your shoulders and let yourself sink further into the water.

Something cold sat against your throat, a gloved hand covered your mouth.

You splashed, “Move and you will do the job for me.” Rasped a voice.

You stilled, though your heart beat like a wild horse.

“Good. You still obey orders.”

You tried to scream against the hand, mere muffles escaped from the edges. The cold object was tighter against your throat. You stopped.

“His end will come. And so will yours.”

The cold object slipped away from your throat and the hand disappeared. You heard a scampering of footfalls but was too terrified to think to look.

You continued to not move till you heard a commotion. Aelia, called out. No longer did you feel rooted where you sat; so you turned towards her scream.

“Stop! You don’t belong here!” She called out.

Feeling as if something came together just then, all that had just happened was realized in you. A sharp tremble came over you, followed by tears.

*******

“Why did you leave her alone?” Geta raged, his face was taunt.

“Geta, she was only getting cloths to dry me.” You said weakly.

Despite, now being back in your garments, oiled and even with a blanket wrapped around you, a chill remained.

His eyes were wild, as he turned to look at you. You could see the unshed tears. Which softened the rage.

“They should have already been in the room!”

“I am terribly sorry, sire.” Aelia, apologized once again and remained kneeling before him.

“Get out of my sight! I don’t wish to see you till ientaculum.”

Aelia, hastily departed from the room and the door closed with a clang. You flinched.

He paced. “We’ll find them. They will wish I put them in the coliseum.”

He raged as he paced across the room. Candles flickered as he passed them. You watched him. Sharply, he turned and came over to you.

“Not many are aware of what happened. The banquet is still being held for my mother. Do you want to attend?”

Your eyes grew, blinking you looked at him. “You’re asking me?”

He nodded. “This is a rare occurrence.”

You watched as emotions washed over him. It kept the words from hurting as much as they were sharp.

He exhaled. “Choices will be shared more. I’m, I’m…”

You shrugged the blanket off your shoulders. Standing, you closed the distance between the two of you.

“Geta.” You breathed and cupped one his anger flushed cheeks. His hand came over yours.

@honey-eyed-munson @amethyst-serenade @laura-naruto-fan1998 @screaming-blue-bagel @kitkat80 @blondie324 @alyisdead @hellomadamebutterfly @helsa3942 @marrowfrog00 @misspendragonsworld @therealjomarch @deliciousfestsalad @aspiringcokewhore @justalittlebitshy

[itstheendofthegoddamnworld]

Swallowed Whole by The Flame (Messmer the Impaler x Tarnished! Reader) 16

MASTERLIST

PREVIOUS | NEXT

Summary: Tarnished and Messmer enjoy each other in their honeymoon period.

A/N: I'M BACK FROM THE DEAD AND READY FOR MORE! Thank you all so much for the responses to the last chapter and it brings me such joy that people are interested for more. Onwards!

Warnings for this chapter: hot and heavy sex, all porn no real plot, oral (m & f receiving). doggy style, creampies, orgasm denial.

A03 link

Chapter 16: Divinity

Sunlight peeks through the soft red curtains, pouring warmth into the room. The light catches you across your sleeping face, making you squint and roll away, a soft groan leaving your lips. You do not know how early it is, but you're aware of the chill in the air that has frosted over the windows, and how your skin pebbles from the chill.

You roll over, the rawness of the silks of the sheets against your skin does not hide you from the elements. It is only when you feel something shift in the large bed, a presence beside you nestling in the sheets you share.

Cracking an eye open, you take in the person beside you, his large sleeping form is curled up on himself, his red hair a cascading calming flame. Messmer sleeps soundly, a tranquil look on his face that makes him look more like a god than a living man. 

Messmer, he's here, still with you. It wasn't some dream after all. 

You take some time just staring at him, watching the way his curved torso rises and falls softly. The serpents have curled around him in sleep, too, resting on the pillows beside their master's head. 

Gently, you trace a finger through his red tresses, idly taking in his beauty. Taken aback when he shifts suddenly, the serpents hiss quietly in complaint as they joint momentarily awake, and so does the redhead.

Messmer's golden eye cracks open a fraction, squinting from the sunlight before it adjusts to look across at you. Neither of you say anything for a moment that passes before he rolls onto his back, and a soft look cascades over his features.

"I thought last night was some dream."

"How so?"

Messmer snorts through his nostrils, casting a glance your way, his large fingers finding yours to intertwine. "I had dreamt of this very moment, with thee in mine own sheets." His fingers dance across your skin, skimming over your hips and across your waist, dipping close towards the inner part of your thighs.

"Oh, you were waiting for this?" You tease, rolling over closer to him, enjoying the way his much larger hands pull you closer. Messmer pulls you close so that you are practically sitting on his lap, giving him the perfect view of your bare chest. Your heartbeat picks up, and your nipples pebble from both the chill and his charming gaze.

Memories of last night come to you, the noises and feeling of being taken by him flood your mind, and you find yourself growing shy in front of him. Messmer picks up on this, a quirk in his eyebrow as he grinds himself up from below you. "Getting shy?"

You hum coyly, trying to bite your lip from letting a moan out, feeling his growing cock nudge beneath you. You stare down at him through your eyelashes, boldness growing through you. "I'd like to give you pleasure again."

"Oh?" He hums, intrigued, allowing you the chance to roll off him, his golden eye watching hawkishly, the serpents taking you in. 

You pull back the sheets to reveal his bareness, but he is not affected by the chill as you are. His skin feels flush, warm as a growing flame, and you are wholeheartedly drawn to it like a moth. His cock is semi-hard, but long and thick that it impresses you that you could take him. Languidly running your hand along his length, you take your time teasing him, gauging his reactions.

Messmer leans his head back into the pillows beneath him, basking in the new pleasures. "Oh, lover, thy touch is wicked."

His compliment goes straight to your core, the slickness within your legs grows heated, and your mouth salivates at this next step. Leaning over him, you cage his powerful thighs, sitting between them as you stare down his cock, your hand continues to stroke him slowly, feeling the way he twitches in your palm.

His cock grows heavy in your hand, and you love the way it begs for more. The head is weeping precum, and Messmer is softly muttering to himself, enjoying your touches as he awaits your mouth.

You lean over and waste no time trying to get as much of him into your mouth, swirling your tongue over him as you bob your head up and down. Messmer shuts his eye, a groan escaping his chapped lips as he cradles the back of your head, gauging how much you can take of him as you try to deepthroat him. 

"Thy body is not of this world, dearest." He hisses, and you taste the saltiness on your tastebuds. "Rather, a temptress who hast cometh to undo me."

You close your eyes as you get into your element, swiveling your head and continue to take as much of him in you, moaning softly around him as you feel him growing further and furth undone from you. His moans, the softness of his touches, he is close, you can tell-

His cock pops out of your mouth with a loud smack, startling you as you feel hands on you, suddenly flipping you on your hands and knees. You yelp from the abruptness of it all, turning your head to glance back over Messmer, a quirked smile lifting his face, playfulness dancing in his gaze. "Apologies dearest, I can hold back nay longer."

"Wha- Oh!"

Messmer wasted no time in leaning over from behind you, pressing his nose and nuzzling between your parted legs, his mouth finding your entrance. Shaking from bliss, the pleasure shoots through you, and you fall forward into the sheets, arse up and head down.  "Oh, fuck, Messmer-" 

The redhead presses himself into you further, grabbing you by the hips as he delves his tongue inside, earning the illicit moans to grow louder from you. You feel yourself growing close, but that falls quickly from you, your orgasm denied as Messmer pulls back, his touch leaves you yearning for more. "Messmer-"

"Yes, lover," Messmer kneels over you from behind, grabbing you by the hips, his large cock teasing your entrance as it rubs against your clit deliciously, "let me take thee."

Messmer takes after his title in this moment, for he has truly impaled you. Your mouth falls open in a silent cry, the feeling of being speared by his cock is a familiar yet overwhelming feeling. His cock fills you beyond anything once more, and your thighs shudder as you try to hold yourself up, feeling how it feels like he is moulding your insides to fit him perfectly.

Messmer thrusts shallowly inside you, earning the both of you to release your cries, and it feels that Messmer has taken on a much more feral approach to taking you. Thanks to his large height, he easily reaches over to capture your lips as he continues his thrusts, his tongue swirling against yours as you swallow each other's moans.

From behind, Messmer's cock drives almost further and deeper inside you, reaching places that make you see stars. It didn't take long before you could feel your orgasm rising, your voice rising as your slickness helped in making Messmer fuck you deeper and harder.

"Messmer-please, fuck, I'm-"

"Come undone, my starlight," he hissed, helping you draw out your orgasm as his thrusts grew sloppy, hinting at his end. 

His noises drew to an end, and his cock stopped thrusting as he emptied himself deep inside you. The cum flooded you greatly before you even had a chance to register how much there was, already some was leaking from your aching hole as he shifted above you. 

Catching your breath, Messmer stilled as he pulled you back into him, still inside you and rock hard. It was obvious from leaning back into him and being spooned that he was not done, as if something had awoken inside him to make him obsessed with fucking you. His behaviour was changed too, and the way he kissed the intimate area of your neck, his teeth grazing along your throat.

"Prithee," he whined, thrusting softly as the squelching noises of your mixed cum echoed in the room, "more, I needeth more."

The black knights that guarded just outside Messmer's chambers eyed each other, hearing the obvious moans and bed creaking that echoed down the hallway. Pretending to pay no mind to it, they both stood stoically, sworn to protect their Lord and now, the Tarnished that Messmer had decreed recently.

-

A/N: Once again, thank you for everyone's kind words and compliments. It was so nice to reply to everyone - I hope you're enjoying reading this as much as I'm writing it! I look forward to what is more to come!

[feletida]

guest from the past 16: crisis everyday

[zepskies]

Smoke Eater - Part 16

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader 

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real. 

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.   

🔥 Series Masterlist

Song Inspo: “Run to You” by the Pentatonix

Word Count: 6,200 Tags/Warnings: Physical altercation, perilous situations, fire hazards, injuries, angst, Nick and Azazel being evil psychos. 

Part 16: “Break Down the Gates”

The holiday couldn’t last forever. Eventually, you had to go back to work.

Dean didn’t like it, and neither did you. Hell, even Sam had tried to find an opening in the district attorney’s office for you. Unfortunately, all of the positions you were remotely qualified for were filled.

And as your bills had to get paid, it meant you had to take Betsy all the way up to the 22nd floor of the Savage & Co. building on a Monday morning.

Dean was already calling you.

You couldn’t answer until you got off the elevator and away from its shitty reception, but you let out a sigh before you called him back.

“Hey,” you greeted.

“Hey, sweetheart. How you doin’?” Dean asked.

“I’m good. I just got to my office,” you replied. I was also fine 20 minutes ago on the road.

You had to be patient though. You knew he was worried about you, now for more than one good reason.

“Good. Got your taser all charged up?”

“Yep, it’s in my purse,” you said. You closed the door to your office and locked it. “Which is going in my desk. You’re at the station?”

“Yeah, having my coffee right now.”

“Okay, tell the guys I said hi.”

“Will do,” said Dean. “You need anything, just call me. If you can’t get ahold of me, call Cas, or Sam, or even my dad.”

“I promise I will,” you replied. “I have to get to work here, but I hope you have a good day. And be safe.”

“That I will,” he promised in turn. “You too, baby.”

You smiled.

Once you hung up with Dean and got settled at your desk, you started by powering through your work emails. All too soon, however, there was a knock at your door. You fought against the tremor of unease that ran up your spine.

“Who is it?” you asked.

“It’s Marv,” replied your coworker, through the door. “Since when do you lock yourself in your office?”

You let out a breath and smiled. You got up and went to let him in. “I’ve found that people are less likely to interrupt me when they can’t get in.”

When the door opened, Marv gave you a look of begrudging acceptance.

“I hear ya,” he said. The man was a hermit himself, so if anyone was going to understand your self-barricading, it was Marv.

He handed you a hard-copy manilla envelope containing his monthly report, because he also had a disdain for email. 

“Why don’t you give this to Nick yourself?” you asked with a frown.

Marv held up placating hands. “Because he’s an ass, and I can only deal with so much idiocy in my life.”

“Then give it to Josh! He’s the new Senior Manager,” you pointed out.

“Josh kisses Nick’s ass. Therefore, he’s become an even bigger idiot,” Marv replied. “I’m telling you, my constitution just can’t bear it.”

You rolled your eyes and took the folder from him. “All right, get outta here. I’ll deal with this.”

“Thank you,” he said, inclining his head. He soon left to return to his hole of an office. You’d only been in there once. It had been stacked to high heaven with books and loose papers. You didn’t know how the man functioned, but you assumed it was equal parts caffeine and Prozac.

So you took the report, and you went up to the 30th floor for the first time in months.

You went down the hall to Josh’s office first, but you could hear from the other side of the closed door that he was locked in a meeting with one of the more difficult clients.

You could come back later, or just drop the folder off with Nick’s assistant.

You went back down the hall and found that Nick’s office door was cracked open, but you weren’t about to go in, even just to deliver a simple report. You didn’t want to speak to him, let alone enter his office.

His assistant was out on a break, it seemed, so you couldn’t just give it to her. You contemplated leaving it on her desk with a note. But that’s when you heard the voices coming from within the office.

“As you know, my father’s back in town,” you heard Nick say. You inched closer to the door and cautiously peeked through the three inches of space in the doorway. There was another man inside, slightly taller than Nick, but leaner. He was dressed casually, in jeans and a plaid shirt. His long arms were crossed as he listened.

You could tell by the way he stood, however, that this wasn’t an associate from one of their accounts. He didn’t look like a businessman or a lawyer. The way he stood was sharper, more calculated even in his laxness.

Your brain caught up with the conversation as Nick continued to speak.

“We’re working together on this,” he said. “Keep an eye on the cop. Wait for an opportunity.”

“Together, huh? Azazel has his orders. You trying to take his place?” the other man replied. His voice was thin and nasal. You saw his profile, however. His eyes were dangerous.

Your gaze widened at the implications of his words though. Azazel?!

“Dad agrees with me. The guy’s not getting the hint, so we’ll need to remind him who really makes the rules,” Nick said.

You blinked in shock. Holy shit…Nick’s father is Azazel.

You clasped a hand over your mouth before the gasp could escape. A sharp breath still echoed through the hall. The men’s heads began to turn, but you did as well—away from the door and booking it down the hall as quietly and quickly as you could.

Your heart pounded while you searched for a way out of the hallway, out of plain sight. You found the nearest bathroom and went into the women’s. It seemed empty, at least.

There you rushed into one of the stalls and locked it. You realized that you had your phone in your pocket, and you took it out with trembling hands. Your thumb hovered over Dean’s name as panicked breaths escaped you.

But the more you thought about what you’d heard, and Nick’s ominous threat about a cop, you found yourself scrolling lower in your contacts. You called John Winchester.

It rang a few times, and all the while you made silent, fervent prayers. Pick up, damn it! You could hear your own heartbeat in your ears.

“Winchester,” he answered.

“John, it’s me,” you whispered. “Azazel’s here. Or, he’s not here, here, but I know who he is. Well, I mean kind of—”

“Okay, wait. Slow down,” he said. “What about Azazel? You know who he is?”

“He’s Nick’s father,” you hissed. Trying to contain yourself and speak quietly was not easy. “I met him once at a company networking event, like a month after I got hired. Daniel Savage. He built Savage & Co. from the ground up. But he handed off the reigns to Nick years ago.”

It seemed to take John a moment to compute on that one, but he eventually replied.

“You’re at the office now?” John asked.

“Uh, yeah!” you replied testily. “I’m hiding out in a bathroom stall.”

“Okay, take it slow, all right?” he said. “You’re gonna go back to your office, calm. Like you didn’t just hear what you heard. You’re gonna take an early lunch, and you’re gonna come straight to the precinct for me. We’ll make sure you’re safe.”

You took a deep breath to steady yourself as you nodded, even though he couldn’t see it.

“Okay. I need to call Dean,” you said.

“I’ll fill him in. Just focus on getting out of there,” John said.

You agreed, but you still felt shaky when you ended the call. No one had entered the bathroom, and it had been a few minutes already, so you chanced stepping out of the stall and into the hallway. That too was empty.

You sucked in another steadying breath. This time you went down the stairs to get back to your office. It felt unusually warm in the stairwell. Hot enough that you actually started to sweat on the way down to the 22nd floor.

Damn, did the AC break or something?

You made it back to your office, though when you opened the door, you were unable to be relieved. Nick sat in your chair at your desk. He gave you a smile.

“Good morning,” he said.

“You’re not supposed to be in here. Get out,” you snapped. You had no patience for another tête-à-tête with him today; especially after what you just saw.

And it hit you then. You were a witness.

You eyed Nick more warily. He had one of his gold golf clubs in his hand, and he leaned on it as he stood. He set up a putter’s stance next to your desk and hit a golf ball with a gentle swing. The ball rolled into your flat shoe.

“I want to go over that report you brought upstairs,” he said.

You shook your head and went cautiously over to your desk. Your purse was inside (you were kicking yourself for not taking it with you upstairs). Nick was too close to your desk for comfort, until he moved to retrieve his golf ball. It allowed you to move farther into the room.

“Anything you want to discuss can be done via email. Right now, I’m meeting a friend for lunch,” you lied. Your gaze was off the man for maybe a few seconds while you grabbed your purse from inside the desk. Another realization hit you in that moment.

How did he know it was me who brought the report?

By the time you looked up, Nick was shutting the door to your office. He tilted his head at you with a darker edge to his smile.

“You saw something you weren’t supposed to. Didn’t you, sweetheart?” he said.

You steeled yourself with a breath. You felt inside your purse, and your hand wrapped around your taser. You pulled it out and switched it on, pointing it towards him.

“Step away from the door or I’ll fry your ass,” you threatened. It lost its effect somewhat, with the way your hand was shaking, but it was a threat, nonetheless.

Nick raised his brows at you. He still had his golf club in hand. His movements were slow as he stepped away from the door, and closer towards you.

“Sure you know how to work that thing?” he teased with a shrug of his shoulders. “If I were you, I’d take a breath. Relax a bit. Come sit on my knee.”

That last bit was teasing, despite the way he eyed you, even now with a shade of desire. The kind that claimed and stole in its taking. It made you want to spit in his face.

“You’re a bastard,” you replied. “Turns out, the bastard apple doesn’t fall far from the bastard tree.”

“Watch it,” Nick warned. You saw the dangerous edge in his blue eyes. “That’s my dad you’re talking about.”

He swung the club at your head.

You managed to duck, yelping as it crashed into a lamp instead. You tried to run for the door, but that was when Nick grabbed you by the hair and nearly yanked the hairclip right out.

A short scream escaped your lips as you grabbed for his wrist. He shoved you hard into the wall, where you lost your footing and fell. Your head cracked against the accent table that once held the lamp, and your vision blurred on the way down. Glass crackled under your arm and bit into your cheek.

A strong hand grabbed you and hefted you up. You felt a trickle of wetness rolling down the side of your face as you stared up into his. It must’ve been blood, but all you could focus on was the satisfaction in Nick’s eyes. Finally, they seemed to say.

But then he paused. Confusion was written across his face.

“Do you smell smoke?” he asked. You both saw it climbing under the door of your office.

It was a distraction that broke you out of your frozen fear.

On pure instinct, you jabbed at Nick’s ribs with your taser. His hands fell away from you and he went down like an elephant, jolting and writhing on the ground. You gasped for breath above him while you realized what you’d just done. You tilted your head down at him.

No, you weren’t done.

You grabbed his golf club with your free hand. When he tried to reach for your ankle, you jammed the heavy club into his hand until he shouted in pain. For every moment of frustration, anxiety, and fear this man had caused you, you gave it back to him with one heavy swing of that club into his stomach. (And maybe one more for good measure.) 

He doubled over, groaning, coughing a bit of blood. You tossed the golf club and grabbed your purse with a shaking hand. You left him where he laid.

As soon as you open the door, however, you were pushed back by the cloud of incoming smoke. You coughed and squinted against it, but your eyes widened again when you realized what was happening.

The building was on fire.

For some reason the alarms weren’t going off, but it was clear to see what was in front of you. Smoke was clogging the halls. People were rushing out of their offices for the stairwell. You couldn’t help glancing back at Nick; he was slowly pulling himself to his feet.

Part of you knew he might not make it if you left him, but when he looked up at you, with pure hatred, your fear overrode any mercy that might’ve made you turn around.

So you fled for the stairwell behind the small crowd. There were flames making their way down along with the smoke. That was all right, because you all were running in the opposite direction.

You had to blink a drop of blood out of your eyes, and you raised a shaky hand to a cut above your brow, which was also tender to the touch. You were bleeding, clearly, but you couldn’t think about that right now. You were just trying your best not to get pushed or trampled while you hastened down several floors.

The signs pointed to Floor 10 when you felt a buzzing in your pocket. It was your phone, you realized. You were about to fish it out of your pocket, but you were forced to stop short on the stairs, along with everyone else. 

The flames were coming from the floor below as well, blocking your exit.

Once again, Dean frowned while checking his phone. You still hadn’t answered his text from an hour ago. Benny came to sit beside him on the couch in the firehouse common room.

“What’s got you spacin’ out?” Benny asked, noting his friend’s mood.

“I don’t know,” Dean admitted. “But I’ve got a bad feeling, Benny.”

Benny’s brows furrowed. “Why, what’s wrong?”

Before Dean could answer, his phone rang in his hand. He perked up to answer it, until he realized it was his dad calling. He accepted the call and brought the phone to his ear.

“Hey, what’s up?” Dean greeted.

“Thanks to your girl, we know who Azazel is,” John said. “Daniel Savage. Nick is his son.”

Dean’s heart dropped into his stomach; his shock was followed swiftly by worry.

“What? How’d she find that out?”

“She called me this morning. I told her to come straight to the precinct, but she’s not here yet. That was an hour ago,” John said gravely.

Dean’s eyes widened.

And then the alarm sounded overhead. Over the intercom the dispatcher reported a working fire at a commercial building. The address was the same as your work building: Savage & Co.

“Is that you?” John asked, once the intercom message was finished.

“Yeah,” Dean said. He was already up and out of the firehouse, getting his turnout gear on with the phone pressed to his ear. His heart was hammering in his chest, but his tone was rock steady.

“If she’s still in that building, I’m gonna find her.”

Firehouses 18 and 20 had already arrived by the time Firehouse 25 got to the scene of the Savage & Co. building. The flames were sky-high, consuming from the top and the bottom. Just by looking at it, Dean thought there had to have been at least two points of origin (where the fire was started). He doubted this was an accident.

“Okay, 25,” Chief Singer said to the entire Truck 79 and Rescue Squad crew. “House 20 got here first, so Chief Sanderson’s calling the shots. He requested our help in clearing the first five floors. Their crew is already on floors 30 through 20. House 18 has the middle.”

Dean went up to Bobby and spoke just loud enough for him to hear. He filled him in on what John had just told him about Azazel, and that you were most likely somewhere in the building.

“She’s in there, Chief. I have to find her,” Dean said.

Bobby saw the desperation in the younger man’s eyes, and he sympathized. “Have you tried calling her again?”

“She’s not answering,” Dean replied. “If he found out what she knows, he could be after her. That means she could be somewhere near the top.”

“Or she’s in the middle. Or she’s already out of the building,” Bobby reasoned. He quelled Dean’s protest with a raised hand. It then fell on the younger man’s shoulder. “I understand, son. But I’ve got a protocol to follow, and so do you, Lieutenant.”

Dean’s lips pressed together. He knew his rank and his responsibility, but you were in danger. You could already be hurt, or trapped, or…

Dean rounded up Truck 79 with swift, barking orders. After donning their helmets and masks, his and Benny’s team made their way inside. The first floor was wall to wall rolling flames. The heat was nearly overwhelming, like entering the gates of hell.

There was no moving safely through the first floor, so they had to move on to the closest stairwell and try to make it up to the second. Dean held Benny back for a moment.

“I’m going up! Stick with the guys,” Dean said. He had to raise his voice to be heard over the cacophony inside the stairwell.

Benny frowned. “What’re you doin’? You heard the Chief!”

Dean shook his head. He knew he was about to defy a direct order, but he couldn’t shake the gut feeling that you were still in the building somewhere.

“I’ve gotta find her,” he said.

“You think I don’t want to find Andréa?” Benny said. “She hasn’t answered my calls either. They could be anywhere, Dean!”

Dean clasped his friend’s shoulder. “You’re making my point, man.”

And he took off up the stairs before Benny could stop him.

“Damn it, Dean!” Benny shouted after him.

“Where’s he going?” Jack asked. He and Gordon were the only ones to hang back while the rest of their crew followed their orders and searched the second floor, not realizing that their Lieutenant was no longer with them.

“To go be an idiot,” Benny growled. But he wasted no more time. He followed Dean up the stairwell.

Gordon shared a quick look with Jack before he started his own climb up the stairs.

“You can follow protocol, or you can back up the Lieutenant,” Gordon called down.

In that moment, Jack made a decision. He followed Gordon and Benny.

You had to follow the rest of the crowd after you all couldn’t make it down the rest of the stairs safely. It landed you somewhere on the 10th floor, where the group scattered. Your head was aching, your heart pounded in your ears, and you didn’t know where to go.

You fled for the stairwell on the other side of the building, and in turning a corner, you smacked right into Andréa. You gasped when you caught hold of each other.

“Oh my God!” she cried, and she grabbed you into a hug. “Are you okay? Why’re you bleeding?”

“Catch up later,” you choked out. It was so hard to breathe; you were coughing every few moments.

She looked on you worriedly and let out a cough herself. “Come on.”

She pulled you along with her by the arm. You joined a smaller group that were heading for the opposite stairwell. Unfortunately, not all of you would make it there.

A piece of the weakened ceiling crumbled and fell in a fiery heap. Andréa had been just a couple steps in front of you, and it meant you saw it before she did. You pushed her forward so she would make it across. You were forced to stop short and protect your face from the embers.

You nearly tripped and fell back, but you used the wall to steady yourself. You looked up at the sound of Andréa calling your name. You found her terrified face. There was now a wall of fire separating you from her and the rest of the group.

“Keep going!” you coughed. “I’ll find another way.”

“No, I’m not leaving you!” she called back. She pushed away the man that tried to urge her on towards the stairwell.

“Go!” you shouted, even though it raked across your throat. You forced yourself to straighten up and turn away from her. The only chance you had was if there was a way around this hallway that still led to the stairs.

Oh shit, you gasped when you turned the corner. The fire was only getting worse. The building was being consumed, and you almost couldn’t see past a few feet in front of you with all the smoke. It stung in your eyes and clogged your throat.

You stumbled along until you found a room that you could escape into. It was another restroom. The fire hadn’t yet reached inside the women’s bathroom on this floor; maybe you could wait it out like you would a tornado.

Okay, clearly I’m fucking delirious, you thought. You huddled in a corner under the sink and tried and failed to take even breaths without coughing or panicking. You pulled out your phone with shaking hands and tried once again to call Dean. The reception was absolute shit in the entire building now.

It rang, and rang, and rang. Tears slipped down your cheeks.

But despite your dismayed thoughts, he actually answered.

“Hey! Baby, are you there?!”

Your mouth fell open in shock. You clutched at the phone. “Dean!”

You coughed, and you realized smoke was rising under the bathroom door now. The fire would spread here soon enough.

“Where are you? I’m here at your building!”

“Bathroom, 10th floor!” you managed to reply. “I couldn’t get out.”

“It’s okay. I’m coming right now,” he said. “Stay put for me.”

“Yeah,” you said, with a shaky breath. You couldn’t exactly leave. “Dean, don’t hang up.”

“I won’t,” he promised. “Where’s…r—oom?”

He was glitching in and out. You gripped the phone tighter in panic. “Dean?”

“Can…ear m…”

“Dean!” Your tears fell anew. You had another reason to struggle for breath as you tried to reach him.

You slid out from under the sink to try and get better reception, but it was no use. The call failed.

“Shit!” You nearly tossed your cell across the room out of sheer frustration.

Then you paced back and forth, trying to think of what to do. Should you leave your momentary shelter to go and find him, or would that just run the risk of him never finding you.

You didn’t know. You didn’t know what to do.

God, I’m so fucking screwed…

You slumped against the wall and tried to stifle your coughing, all while you also tried (and failed) to form some kind of a plan.

Until the bathroom door bursting open startled a scream out of you. Was the fire coming in?!

The move did allow more smoke to infiltrate the bathroom, but instead of the fire, you saw a firefighter in all his gear. This time, it did include the helmet.

“Fire Department!” he called out.

You would know that voice anywhere. And even through the mask, you recognized the man’s eyes when he went to you.

“Dean,” you sobbed. It was halted only by a series of lung-wracking coughs and wheezing. He quickly took his helmet and mask off so he could fit the mask over your soot-covered face.

“It’s okay, deep breaths. I gotcha, baby, just breathe,” Dean encouraged. His arm was around your waist, holding you close while the oxygen finally allowed you to take in slower breaths and relax against him.

“Okay, let’s get out of here, huh?” he said. He put his helmet back on.

You grabbed the front of his jacket. “Don’t you need the mask?”

You were still having trouble breathing, coughing on every other word. Dean shook his head.

“You need it more right now,” he said.

You realized that Benny was holding the bathroom door open.

“We gotta go!” he said.

“Benny, Andréa was here,” you said. His eyes widened behind his mask. “She got out, I think. She made it to the west stairwell.”

“Okay, yeah, because no one’s getting out the east wing,” Gordon said. You noted him standing just behind Benny, with Jack in tow.

“There’s a block,” you said, pointing just ahead where you saw the pile of debris. More parts of the ceiling had crumbled around it, making it a fiery minefield. There was no other way around it at this point—only through it.

Gordon and Jack went through first, followed by Benny. With their jackets and protective gear, they were able to jump through like a flaming hoop. And they would be able to help catch you and Dean from the other side.

“Okay, you ready?” Dean asked.

“If I say no?” you said, holding onto him tighter. His hand soothed over your hair. You’d lost your clip a long time ago (along with your purse), so your hair was probably wild and frizzy and covered in soot, along with the rest of you.

Dean grinned down at you. “Then I’d say, don’t you worry. I’m not gonna let you fall.”

Even now, through your fear, he could make you smile. You steeled yourself and took a breath. You could hear it so clearly with the mask on. That, and your own heartbeat.

He counted down to three, and on the last beat, Dean covered your head and shoulders and ran with you under the flame-covered ceiling. He managed to help you jump over the fiery debris on the ground. On both of your heavy landings, a wooden support beam fell.

There was a shout from Benny, but it was too late. All Dean could do was cover you. The beam broke over his back and knocked his helmet clean off. He took you with him when he fell.

Your scream rang out—half at the fall, but mostly for Dean. It was Benny who dragged you and Dean out first. Gordon and Jack took over hefting an unconscious Dean, while Benny hauled you up onto your feet and led you to the west stairwell.

You passed out just as you felt fresh air hit the mask.

You woke to bright, fluorescent lighting that made you wince. An oxygen mask covered your mouth and nose and was strapped around your head. You made a sound of discomfort and tried to take it off, but a hand stilled yours.

“Don’t.”

Eileen’s concerned face came into view. You were confused, though happy to see her.

“You’re in the hospital,” she said. When you tried to speak, she held up a finger to you. Wait, said her eyes.

She took out her phone from her jean pocket to text someone.

“Sam is coming,” she told you, before she drew closer to sooth a hand up and down your arm. You felt tears in your eyes at just that small comfort.

They fell in earnest when Sam entered your hospital room. His eyes held the concern of a friend and a brother as he approached on your other side.

“Hey, how do you feel?” he asked, laying a hand on your shoulder.

You wheezed a breath and rasped, “Water.”

Sam nodded and grabbed you a plastic cup filled with cold water. It felt like literal heaven once the mask was off and you were able to drink. He helped you while Eileen held the mask away from your face.

After you’d had all you could drink, he took the cup and Eileen placed the mask back over your face.

“Where’s Dean?” you asked, after clearing your throat. You still sounded like a chain smoker, and your head was pounding. “Is he okay?”

“He’s stable,” Sam said, with a sigh. But when he didn’t offer anything more, you raised expectant brows at him.

“What else?” you said. Your tone told him not to skimp on any more details.

Sam’s gaze met yours. “The beam burned through his jacket, on his back. It hit his head. They…had to perform a minor surgery to relieve the pressure in his brain, but he’s stable in recovery now.”

He was quick to add on that last bit when you began to crumble. Eileen encouraged you to breathe through your tears. The oxygen could only do half the battle if you didn’t breathe properly.

“I want to see him,” you said.

Sam frowned and held up a placating hand. “I don’t think that’s—”

You ignored him and tried to sit up. With or without his approval, you were getting out of this bed.

“Okay, you’re not listening,” Sam sighed, though he immediately went to help you. He shot Eileen an imploring look over your head.

She got the hint and helped you on her side. Together they helped you stand while you removed the mask, then the heart monitor and other wires taped to your torso.

The Emergency Department team had left your pants on, thank goodness, but they’d clipped through your blouse and bra. So the paper gown was mostly to cover your top half like a light blue poncho. It was a bit airy in the back, but Eileen held it closed for you. Right now, you didn’t care much about your modesty. You were also walking around the hospital barefooted.

At least Dean was on the same floor. It was just a long walk down the hall.

“Can you call Benny and ask how Andréa’s doing?” you asked, coughing a bit.

Sam eyed you in thinly veiled concern, but he agreed. The last he’d heard from Benny was that Andréa had been cleared by the paramedics with minor smoke inhalation. You were clearly worse.

Sam held you upright when you finally saw Dean. He had to guide you into a chair beside Dean’s bed, where he slept on his side. On his back was a large stretch of white gauze across his upper back, from nearly shoulder to side at an angle.

“The doctor said they’re only second-degree burns. It looks worse than it is,” Sam said quietly.

Eileen rubbed your back in the hopes that you’d stop crying.

You could only focus on the gauze, the smaller nicks and burns around Dean’s face, the bandage and thick gauze near his temple where they’d apparently had to drill into his skull. He also wore an oxygen mask, because if all that wasn’t enough, you were sure “smoke inhalation” was on the list, thanks to the way he’d given you his SCBA mask.

Gently, very gently, you took his hand. Your thumb swept over the back of it, over each knuckle.

“Did they say when he’d wake up?” you asked. You rubbed at your aching stomach. Does smoke inhalation cause nausea too?

Your chest was also tight. You’d head back to your room sooner or later and get the oxygen mask back on.

Before Sam could reply, you heard a groan below. You looked down at Dean with wide-eyed hope. It took a moment, but his eyes slid open. They were unfocused and dark, until they found your face.

You smiled tearfully. “Hey, baby.”

Your free hand caressed his cheek. His eyes briefly closed at your touch. When he realized you were holding his hand, he squeezed a bit. That was enough for you.

Just then, however, you had to let go of his hand. Whatever was left in your stomach from this morning seemed to be revolting. You turned your head quick to throw up onto the hospital floor.

Both Sam and Eileen called your name when you slid out of your chair and onto the floor. You blinked tears out of your eyes…or actually, it was black spots encroaching on your vision.

Sam pushed the chair out of his way to get to you. He gathered you into his arms and shouted for a doctor while Eileen went for the emergency button on Dean’s hospital bed.

The last thing you saw was Dean’s worried face out of the corner of your eye, before the blackness took you.

Dean could barely speak behind his oxygen mask, but Sam saw his worry as the nurses carried you away in a stretcher with Eileen following close behind. Sam crouched in front of his brother and clasped his hand.

“She’ll be okay, I promise. I’m gonna look out for both of you,” Sam said. “Right now, you need to sleep.”

Dean’s brows furrowed. In that small gesture, Sam also saw his stubbornness. He almost smiled. You and Dean were a match made.

“Just rest, Dean. I’m going now to check on her, but not until you close your eyes,” Sam said. It took another stubborn minute, but Dean eventually relaxed as well as he was able. His eyes closed as he fell back under the pull of medication and painkillers.

“How’s he doing?” came the voice of their father in the doorway. Sam’s expression morphed from gentle to austere. His head turned towards his father.

“How does he look like he’s doing?” Sam asked. “He had a burning ceiling fall on him. He has the mother of all concussions, and he just saw his girlfriend collapse.”

John was quiet, in contrast to his youngest son’s ire. He stepped into the room and watched his eldest. Sam saw the man’s age in the lines around his eyes, in his slow gait when he raised a gentle hand to comb through Dean’s greasy hair, mindful of his injuries.

“This shouldn’t have fucking happened,” said John. His voice was tired and gruff. Sam knew what the weight of guilt looked like, but what he didn’t yet see was regret. If John hadn’t kept digging, digging, Azazel wouldn’t have taken it this far.

Okay, Sam didn’t yet have proof that Azazel burned down the Savage & Co. building…but he didn’t believe in coincidences.

“No,” Sam said. “It shouldn’t have.”

“What the fuck was that?!” Nick shouted.

He was still dusted with soot and sporting some cracked ribs from the day’s activities. He’d stumbled into his father’s house, taken a bottle of bourbon from the man’s shelf and started drinking straight from the crystal glass.

Daniel eyed him coolly from the balcony, smoking a cigar. “Whatever do you mean, son?”

Nick was furious. He stomped over, not caring how expensive liquor was splashing on him.

“Why’d you burn the whole damn building?” he demanded to know. “I could’ve died!”

“Alistair got you out, didn’t he?” Daniel pointed towards his son with the hand that held his cigar. “See, unlike you, I think ahead.”

“I’m serious,” Nick hissed. “Our company is still important—”

“My company,” Daniel interjected, “is not that building. However, the building itself was a liability.”

Nick’s brows knit together in confusion and anger. “What the hell’re you talking about?”

Daniel took a long drag of his cigar, puffing in Nick’s face. The latter coughed. As if he hadn’t had enough smoke in his lungs today.

“Don’t you see?” Daniel asked, with a sigh that also said he wondered how he could’ve produced such a moron. “It puts distance between you and ‘Azazel’ if you’re also a victim of his threats. It destroys any physical evidence of me having been there, along with any files you would’ve eventually had to turn over to the police and the FBI.”

Nick let that idea sink into his brain. He realized that it did make sense…but he deflated as something else occurred to him.

“Uh…see, that would’ve worked, but, we have a problem,” Nick scratched his head. “Someone knows who you really are.”

By the time Nick finished explaining about you, and what you’d overheard, Daniel’s sharp gaze managed to strike fear into Nick’s heart.

Yet to his surprise, the other man’s temper didn’t blow. Daniel kept it all inside as he continued to smoke. Cigars tended to pacify him better than cigarettes.

His lips twitched at a humorless smile. “Well, that is a problem.”

“But she probably died in the fire, so we’re good,” Nick shrugged.

“No, I doubt she did,” Daniel sighed. “You’re not that lucky.”

He rolled his shoulders. Then he grabbed Nick’s arm and twisted, until his was crying out and pinned to the nearest wall. Daniel threatened to put out his cigar in the soft underbelly of the arm he held.

Nick looked up at his father with wide, pleading eyes.

“Like everything else, that girl is a problem I’m going to fix,” Daniel said. “Along with the whole Winchester brood.” 

AN: 🫣 Don't hate me lol. It gets better for them, I promise. But we have a few more chapters left to go and a few more twists in store!

Next Time:

The first time Dean was awake for longer than a few minutes, he asked about you.

Sam wasn’t surprised. He was frankly relieved that he had an answer for his brother.

Keep Reading: PART 17

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb

@vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @katherineann814 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

[ejzah]

A/N: After far too long, this story returns thanks to @perfectcomputerfire’s request.

***

Ain’t it a Kick in the Head, Part 16

Deeks ignored Kensi’s exclamation, swaggering out as though they weren’t in immediate danger and he wasn’t likely to collapse at any moment.

“I couldn’t help but notice you seem a little conflicted,” he said, and the brothers immediately stopped talking.

“This isn’t your concern, Max,” Dimitri told him. “Go back to your girlfriend. We’ll tell you once you’ve decided.

“Or, you could tell me now and then Bella and I can decide how far we want to take this.”

“You’re not in a position to barter,” Paul said through his teeth.

“And you could use all the help you can get. So, either tell me the plan, or we’re figuring our own way out,” Deeks warned, flipping from easygoing to calculating in a second.

Kensi didn’t know what he planned, or who Novikov was, but clearly he was important to Deeks. At any other time, she be impressed by his commitment. Now she hoped it wouldn’t get him killed. Either way, she didn’t intend to leave him behind.

“Or I could just shoot you and be done with all your talk,” Paul threatened. Deeks didn’t show any signs of fear, but Kensi tensed, ready to step in if needed.

“Yeah, who got us out of that warehouse? Your backup is almost gone and if you kill me, you’ll be fending for yourselves soon. I may be annoying as hell, but I’m also pretty damn useful.”

Deeks let that hang in the air, quietly smug, though Kensi noticed his left hand hovering close to his waistband in case he needed to defend himself. Paul’s wright shifted towards Deeks, and Kensi clasped the butt of her gun, sure this was about to get a lot more bloody. Then Dimitri pulled his brother back, regarding Deeks’ with disdain, but a resigned sigh.

“A business partner is arranging for a plane to take us to a safer location,” he said.

“Yeah, that’s a little vague. I’m gonna need—”

Deeks’ sentence was cut short by the door bursting open and shouts of “NCIS!” Kensi spotted Sam and Callen run in before the Kaisers’ two remaining guards charged forward, opening fire.

Kensi saw Deeks drop to the ground just as a bullet flew way too close to her face, and she ducked behind the pallet. She peeked out in time to see Sam exchanging one of the guards and Paul Kaiser. The other guard had hidden behind a piece of machinery. Deeks wasn’t anywhere in sight.

She checked her gun, preparing to pop up when there was a lull in the shooting.

“Well, this is cozy,” Deeks said, sliding in next to her. He had wood splinters in his hair and a half smirk.

“You’re insane,” she hissed, and he shrugged, looking around their barrier.

“You wouldn’t be the first to make that observation,” he told her, crouching next to her again. “You want to me to be the bait?” He nodded in Phillip’s general direction.

“No. Stay down and try not to bleed out,” she ordered, standing before Deeks could object. She aimed and fired three shots, each of them just missing Phillip, who turned and aimed, his bullets hitting the pallet a second after she’d ducked back down again.

Her second round, one of her bullets hit its target; Phillip jerked and fell backwards. Dimitri Kaiser took his place, but before she could even aim again, Deeks had moved in next to her, aimed, and fired. Dimitri grabbed his knee, collapsing to the ground with pained shouts.

In the middle of the room, Callen and Sam were taking custody of Paul, who seemed uninjured.

“See, I told you we didn’t need any backup,” Deeks said breathlessly, leaning heavily against the wall behind them. His jacket bunched up around his side, revealing fresh red blood soaking through the fabric of his shirt.

“Oh my god,” she murmured, reaching for him as he slid a few inches lower.

“But I might need that doctor now.” He gave her a faint smile, then sucked in a pained breath and went limp.

[forgers-therapist]

TINY PEOPLE (part 16)

[harborpointeblvd]

I think I'll miss you most of all.

episode 16

[onceuponapuffin]

Fanatic Intervention Part 16!!!

My friends! I have heard your cries! You are worried about Muriel and yearn to know what has become of them! Rest assured, they are in this installment.

Let's do this.

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After a moment of commiserative silence, Sardis gets up to go to the bar for another round of drinks. He says sometimes magic just isn’t as good as a properly mixed drink, and leaves. You’ve barely had a sip of your fishbowl.

Jesus is a 13 year-old boy who is white and rich and lives in Los Angeles with his rich parents. The world is doomed.

Your brain is still simmering in the sauce of despair when Anathema suddenly leans in close, pushing glasses to the side as she does. She gets as close to the middle of the table as she can, and you look her up and down because you’re pretty sure the table is sticky (and you’re too scared of the answer to wonder why).

“Okay, listen,” she says urgently, “I need to tell you before Sardis gets back. I got a call from Newt. Muriel’s missing.”

Whatever you were expecting to hear, it wasn’t that. You feel like you’ve suddenly been dropped into ice water. Muriel’s….missing.

“Missing how exactly?” asks Crowley.

“Like missing missing,” Anathema says. How is it that something so vague can clarify her meaning so well? “They went to see a movie, and Muriel just disappeared. He hasn’t been able to find them anywhere.” You don’t have the words to speak yet, but the expression you turn towards Anathema seems to be enough for her. “Listen,” she says to you, “They had every reason to think that it would be okay. The Metatron was after us, remember? He wants us.” You turn your eyes back to the table, wishing that Anathema hadn’t moved your drink away. You could really use something to hold on to right now.

“Right,” Aziraphale begins in a take-charge kind of way, “Tell him that there’s a summoning circle on the floor in my bookshop--”

“-- He tried that already. He says he just got voicemail, and...uh...dial-up.” You’re not looking but you can feel Anathema’s expression without seeing it. Who in the universe still uses dial-up??

“Oh,” Aziraphale sounds deflated.

“Maybe they just popped out to the shop?” Crowley suggests. The question sounds ridiculous and even sarcastic, but what he means is maybe they’re okay and not actually in any trouble at all, and maybe they’ll come back safe and sound and everyone will have a good laugh about it later.

“I mean, it’s possible,” Anathema answers, apparently also understanding what Crowley meant, “But honestly, I don’t think it’s likely.”

“Well regardless,” says Aziraphale, “I highly doubt the Metatron would do anything to harm Muriel. Heaven doesn’t work that way, least of all him.”

“No,” agrees Crowley, “They usually outsource that sort of thing to Hell. Might be able to twist an arm and find out if they...ah...mmm…know anything.” You haven’t looked up yet, but you’re pretty sure Crowley noticed that you haven’t said anything halfway through that suggestion.

Muriel is missing. Your friend. Your wholesome, lovely friend, who came to earth dressed like a lighthouse and who you persuaded to adopt argyle. Your friend who spun around to music with you even though they don’t dance. Your friend who watched the first time you had to calm yourself down from a panic attack and gave you a button to help you with the next one. It’s still in your pocket, you remember. You pull it out and stare at it in your palm. A good large-but-not-too-large plain green button. A good thing to fiddle with whenever you’re anxious. Suddenly you feel tears around your eyes, and maybe it’s the alcohol, but you can’t exactly fight them back. The most you can do is keep yourself from sobbing with worry. Everyone else is still discussing what to do.

“Listen,” Anathema is saying, “I know it’s hard, but we can’t stop saving the world to go back and look for them. The Metatron could be using Muriel as bait for all we know, and we’d be playing right into his hands.”

“Well surely we can’t just leave poor Muriel either,” Aziraphale replies.

“No,” Anathema responds, “I suggested he call Adam. If anyone can help him, Adam can.”

“Do you think” You finally say, “that Muriel knows? That they know we’re coming to find them?”

“I don’t know,” Anathema sighs, “I like to think that they know us well enough to have hope. Wherever they are.”

“Perhaps we could send them a message,” Aziraphale suggests.

“Mmnn,” Crowley seems to agree, “We need to make sure it’s something the Metatron wouldn’t pick up on. Like a secret code or something.”

The three of them start to discuss what kind of message or code you could all send Muriel. Meanwhile, the only thing you find yourself able to do is fidget with the button. The debate has gotten the other three nowhere when a lightbulb goes off. The button.

In dramatic fashion that only Crowley could match, you slam the button on the table. Everyone stops their discussion to watch as you grab the miracle enabler out of your pocket and tear off the number 2 with your teeth. As you spit it to the side, you watch and notice that it stays gone. The miracle went through. Anathema blinks.

“Okay,” she starts, “First of all, I get that you’re upset and that’s perfectly reasonable. But this stuff is important so next time can we please forgo the dramatics and discuss with the group first?”

“Sorry,” You say, even though you’re not.

“What message did you send them?” Crowley asks. In response, you hold up the button.

“You see this? Muriel gave this to me before we left. To help me with my panic attacks. As...as comfort.”

“Okay...” Crowley says. You see Anathema and Aziraphale exchange a look.

“So I sent them an exact copy,” You finish.

“That’s rather clever,” Aziraphale sounds impressed.

“Yeah, not bad.” Anathema agrees. “But next time please tell us first.” You nod in agreement and take a sip of your drink just as Sardis returns with more for everyone else.

Hang tight Muriel, you think to yourself, or Muriel if they can somehow hear you, We’ll find you. We won’t leave you on your own.

********************

Muriel scrivened away at their desk. It was hard to come back to scrivening after having such a lovely time on Earth, but they had been told it was an emergency and that they would be able to come back later once everything had been sorted out. Muriel hadn’t realized that what they’d meant was paperwork. They looked around their office and sighed. Every square foot of it was covered with teetering towers of file folders, leaving no way to see anything else. Not that there was anything else to see ever, it was Heaven after all. They had so much to catch up on.

“How are you doing in here, Muriel?” came a voice from among the towers of folders. Muriel jumped in surprise.

“Oh! Ah, I’m doing alright Metatron,” they answered, “It’s a lot to get through, but I’m starting to make some headway I think!”

“That’s excellent!” The Metatron replied. He wound his way through the stacks until he could see Muriel’s face. He smiled kindly. “I really am so grateful that you were able to return and lend us your help. As you can see, things have gotten a little out of hand in your absence.”

“Yes,” Muriel said, “Of course, Metatron! I didn’t realize that I was leaving everyone with so much. Please pass along my apologies to them.” The Metatron nodded with a thoughtful hum.

“It is the nature of our work, Muriel,” he said, “That we do now know or understand our own importance or place in the workings of things while we are doing them. It is not for us to know, after all! But when someone strays from their role, when they leave for a time and their absence is felt, then we often find out just how vital we are. Not one of us is a ‘nobody,’ we are all incredibly important in the workings of God.”

Muriel nodded. “Yes, Metatron, of course!”

“Ah Muriel,” Metatron said fondly, “You are a most diligent and dedicated soul. Be well assured that the Almighty knows just how grateful we are for you and your continued contributions.”

“Oh! The Almighty?! Really?? Wow! Thank you Metatron!” Muriel sat in awe. They had always thought that they were nobody really. But this whole time they had been so important that even God knew! Muriel looked around at the endless towers of files with new inspiration and purpose. If God knew that they were valuable, then they must do their very best to live up to it! “Don’t worry, Metatron, I’ll get all this sorted out!”

Only…

“I have utmost faith in your abilities, my dear,” Metatron began, “And yet I do sense a small seed of doubt. Is it perhaps something I can help you with?”

Muriel nearly jumped again. Could he read minds? How had he known?

“It’s nothing really,” Muriel said sheepishly, “It’s only...I wish I could have said goodbye. Newt must have been so worried for me to just leave so suddenly. My friends might all be very worried about me.”

“Well why would they be worried?” The Metatron asked jovially, “You’ve come back home! You’re much safer and happier in Heaven than you could be anywhere on Earth.” He looked at Muriel’s unconvinced expression, and relented to a thoughtful smile. “Although I suppose we could send them a message for you. Let them know that you are perfectly alright, and have returned at our request to save us from all of this,” he waved his hands to gesture at the mountains of paperwork. Muriel brightened.

“Oh that would be wonderful! Very kind of you, really Metatron. Thank you ever so much.”

“My pleasure, my dear Muriel,” Metatron cooed, “I shall be back to check on you later, shall I?”

With that, he left and closed the door.

“Ah! Metatron!” Saraquel called to him, speeding over, “Your Grace,” she nodded her head in deference, “Is there anything you would like for the Scriveners to...well...scriven? All of our paperwork has been redirected elsewhere and now I have scores of angels with nothing to do.”

“There is always something to do, Saraquel,” the Metatron smiled kindly, “I have the utmost faith in your abilities to lead. As always.” And he left.

Back inside the office, Muriel was beginning to feel much less...enthused. Now that Metatron was gone, the fatigue of tedious work was returning. There was just so much to do. And to think they had left all the other scriveners with all of this. They felt terrible for that. This was…horrible. This was...just so overwhelming. Muriel took a selfish moment to drop their head into their arms. This felt endless. For a short time, Muriel focused on breathing, before a small clatter made them look up. There was a green button on their desk. Carefully, Muriel poked at it. It was definitely a material object. How strange! They picked it up and examined it for a moment before recognition hit them. Oh! They knew what this was! They had given a button just like this to their new friend! The one that God had sent to help save the world with Aziraphale and Mr. Crowley! A smile of relief spread across Muriel’s face, and despite themselves they hugged the button close like it was the most precious thing in all of Heaven. Thank God. The Metatron had sent them a message, and now they knew everything was alright. For a minute there, Muriel had been worried that he wouldn’t.

❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🖤

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[crowely-632]

Mde, I promised to do something again and forgot once again, but I hope that no one was particularly upset (I hope that at least someone is following the updates), here's Rimuru again.

Then I want to make some more posts with Genos, and there's also a Frieren.

[thevoidstaredback]

"Don't you find it suspicious?" Barry asks Wally.

"Hm?"

"The attendees. It's such a weird hodgepodge of people."

"Really? Everyone here is well known in their fields of work."

Barry doesn't seem to believe him. Rude.

"It's true!" he insists, "Everyone here has at least two articles written about them."

"And how would you know that?" Bart asks.

"Because I actually read the news?" Wally says. That, and Dick let him in on the whole plan that's been cooked up. He's upset that he wasn't brought in earlier, but he's more than excited to watch the security footage from 'Phase One'.

Iris gasps mockingly. "You do? I don't believe it!"

Wally sniffs. "Believe it or not, Iris, I don't live under a rock."

"Could've fooled me!" Dick snorts from behind him.

Whirling around, Wally grins at his best friend. "Dick!"

"Hey, loser." He directs his attention to the other three at the table, "Mister and Misses Allen, it's nice to meet you. I'm Richard Grayson, but everyone calls me 'Dick'."

Bart snickers. "Unfortunate."

Dick grins and ruffles his hair. "What's your name, little man?"

"'m Bart Allen!"

"Nice to meet ya, Bart." Crouching down, Dick stage whispers, "Can I let you in on a secret?"

Bart nods.

"If you go back out the doors, turn left and there's another room there."

Bart playfully glares at him. "Try'n to get me to a secondary location?"

Dick shakes his head. "Well, if you want to hang out here with the boring adults..."

"Bye, Barry, Iris!" he calls, running - though it's closer to a slow jog for a non-powered person - off, leaving the room.

"You guys set up another room?" Wally asks.

Dick shrugs. "I know, when I was a kid, that I would've done anything to get out of this stuffy atmosphere."

"That's fair."

"Sorry to interrupt," Iris says, "But where did you two meet?"

The duo share a look. It's Dick who says, "I met him when he was visiting Bludhaven a while back."

Wally nods. "Yeah, he's with the BHPD; He got me outta some trouble while I was there."

"Trouble?" Barry almost laughs, "What happened?"

Wally blushes, clearly embarrassed. "Let's, um, not get into this right now."

Iris smirks. "Now, Wally, what do you have to be so shy about?"

This was not a story Wally wanted out. Fortunately, Dick was on his side. For now, at least.

"As much as I'd love to tell you how much cocaine got popped over his head," -he ignores Wally's indignant shout and punch to his shoulder- "I've got a few other people to meet. It was nice meeting you both. Please, I hope you enjoy."

***

There's a group surrounding Bruce, as is normal for galas, though it isn't intentional this time. Most of them are the One Percenter's that were invited to shift suspicions, but there are a few heroes and their families with him. Lois and Clark Kent being the most notable, though Oliver and Diana are here, too.

He's got eyes on his kids, too, making sure they're all okay. Like before, they all have comms in, but they're all umutted unless something happens. The noise, otherwise, would've been too much and obvious to the Supers.

Dick's just finished talking with the Allens, excusing himself and heading over to Donna Troy and Jackson Hyde are talking. Wally looks to be trying to follow after him.

Jason's off talking to Roy and Lian, though Dinah has her eye on them while Oliver's distracted.

Damian and Jon Kent are already walking out of the room. Because dinner's been served and eaten, he doesn't call his son back.

Tim and Duke have been gone for the past few minutes. They'd both left the ballroom as soon as they could, probably off to the room they'd set up away from the boring monotony of the gala. Most of the teen heroes were gone, too.

Cass and Steph are oth talking to the three reporters, though the two from social media seem more interested in online gossip than the Daily Profit reporter.

"Mister Wayne!" Lois greets, pulling his attention back to the group around him, "Are the rumors about you and Batman true?" There's a gleam in her eyes as she speaks. She knows something. She probably knew his secret the second she saw the wax seal. Good. More things to hold over Clark's head.

Bruce smiles at her. "What rumors?"

"That you hate each other." she says, "You've said, on record, that you think Batman does good for this city just in the wrong way; and there's rumors that he's said that you do good work, too, but he just doesn't like you."

He fakes hurt so obviously that everyone can tell he's either joking or he doesn't care, "Batman doesn't like me?" Shocking information, that is. Imagine that.

"That's only speculation, Mister Wayne."

"Please, Mister Wayne was my father, just as Misses Wayne was my mother. Please, call me 'Bruce'."

"Alright, Bruce. Would you mind explaining your thoughts on Batman? He's Gotham's hero, so why don't you like him."

"What is this, an interview?" he jokes. It falls flat, though the people around him chuckle, as social rules demand. "Miss Lane,"

"Please, it's 'Lois'."

"Lois, then. You're here as a guest, so why do you insist on working?"

She smiles sheepishly, though she doesn't back down. "I'm a reporter through and through, Burce, I can't help it."

He chuckles, "Well, then I guess I can help you put these rumors to rest." He pauses for a moment, feigning putting his thoughts together. "While I do think that Batman is doing good for Gotham, I can also see the flaws in his design. After all, he's only one man."

"Oh?" one of the others in the crowd around him asks, "Have you met him?"

"Only once; he saved me when I had been kidnapped a few years ago," the Gothamites in the crowd nod knowingly, though Luther - who's sneering not-so-subtly - shakes his head, "just after Robin appeared, I believe. And I think that's the thing I hate about him the most."

"Hate?" Oliver, who's near the back of the group, wonders. Diana must recognise his voice because she looks over at him and doesn't look away. Point Bruce.

"He never should've brought a child into his line of work. I can never forgive him for that." Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Dick and Jason both share a look. He's speaking loudly, so he isn't surprised they hear. He means it, though. "Back to what I was saying, though! Batman does good work, but there are other solutions he's either overlooking or choosing to ignore."

"Such as..?" Lois prods.

Such as murder. That goes against his Code, but he's considered it. Though he walks a gray line, Kal is there as his moral compass. It wouldn't do to upset his best friend like that. Torture is also a solution, but that's also off the table, though Diana is the reason for that.

"Now, now, Miss Lois, I think it' time we leave this discussion for now. It's been a while since I was last in Metropolis; how's your own city's hero doing?"

Subtle, Bruce.

Lois looks deeply into his eyes, and whatever pieces she'd been missing click into place. She laughs, "He's doing well, though I haven't been reporting on him lately. That's all Clark."

"Have you met Superman?" Miss. Crowne asks, pulling the conversation along.

Clark shakes his head. "Only once, but not nearly long enough to get a comment." Luther looks slightly upset. Loser. "Though I'd love to talk to him some more. Have you ever met Batman?"

The answer is no. Batman makes a point to avoid civilians who aren't victims or Commissioner Gordon. However, Miss. Crowne says, yes, she has met Batman, though he didn't stay long for a talk. She seems to be proud of [not] meeting Gotham's resident cryptid, though her wording entices Oliver to speak up.

"Cryptid?" Oliver asks.

Miss. Crowne nods enthusiastically. "Yes! No one knows where he came from or where he goes at the end of each night. One day, he just showed up, and he's been here ever since."

She continues to spin a fantastical tale about what Gothamites think about Batman and his Birds. Bruce smirks behind his drink. This reveal is going to be really funny.

***

Down the left hallway from the ballroom, by the bathroom, is the sitting room that was chosen as the 'kid's room'. As soon as dinner had ended and the mingling had started, the Wayne children had spread the information about the second room to all of the heroes that had kids with them. Arguably, this room was much more fun than the ballroom.

Tim and Duke had been the first two to leave the ballroom, mostly so that there was actual security in the sitting room. Duke didn't have a team affiliated with the Justice League, so he mostly floated between the sitting room and the ballroom, like Cass and Steph, but Tim was almost a permanent fixture in the sitting room.

The entire team knows who Kon and Bart are, so thy stuck pretty close to each other as the only familiar faces in the party aside from their families. They left the ballroom soon after Tim and Duke did.

Cassie came in a few minutes later, Andy Curry toddling after her, though it didn't seem like she'd noticed.

Tim meet Cassie at the snack table. "Cute kid," he said, looking over her shoulder, "She related to you?"

Cassie didn't jump, though it was a close thing. She turned to Tim before looking behind her. "Nope."

Humming, Tim crouched down to pick up the toddler. Andrina 'Andy' Curry. Arthur and Mera will be missing her soon. "My name's Tim Drake," he says to both Andy and Cassie, though he coos, "What's your name, hun?"

Andy giggles as e boops her nose before picking her up and standing. "A-dy!"

"'Andy'?" he repeats, "Where're your parents, Andy?"

She points to the door. "Dat way!"

"That way?" Cassie says, also pointing to the door, "Why'd you leave them?"

Andy stuck her tongue out. "Bo'ing!"

Tim stifles a laugh. "Can you tell me your last name, sweety?"

"Cuwy!"

"Curry?" Cassie guesses.

"Yeah!" Andy nods happily.

Tim nods. "Let's get you back to your momma, okay, Andy?"

"Boo!" she shouts, gripping his shirt tighter. Cassie laughs.

Shooting his friend a small glare, he says, "You gotta tell your momma where you are or she's gonna worry!"

Andy's face fell, distraught. "Momma sad?"

Seeing the tears, Tim hurries to say, "No! No, no,no! Hunny, she's not sad, but she will be if we don't go say 'hi', okay?"

Andy nods, her eyes still watery, but she wasn't crying, so Tim would take the win."

Cassie follows as Tim leaves the room. "You're pretty good with kids."

"You think?" Tim chuckles. It was part of his Robin training.

"Yeah, though I don't know how you're going to find her parents in a room of people."

Tim looked at her from the corner of his eye. "I memorise faces pretty easily," he says, "And I made the guest list, so they should be easy to spot. Especially if they've noticed Andy here missing."

He nods at Duke as he passes into the ballroom. Cassie waits outside for him.

Just as he said finding Arthur and Mera Curry was pretty easy. They were talking to Dinah Lance, Mister and Misses Elliot, Jason, and Roy and Lian Harper. It didn't seem like they'd realised Andy was missing yet, so this was going to be a fun conversation.

"Excuse me?" he said, placing his hand on Arthur's shoulder, "Sorry to interrupt, but Andy here was wandering off on her own, so I figured I should bring her back to you."

Mera turned, gasping a bit, though it was probably mostly for dramatics. "Andrina!" Gently, she takes the toddler from Tim's arms, "You were supposed to be with Jackson! Why did you wander off?"

"Bo'ed." Andy huffs.

Arthur chuckles. "Thanks for bringing her back, ..?"

"Tim Drake," he offers his hand for a handshake, "I'm Jason's little brother."

"Squirt," Jason acknowledges, "You sticking around?"

He shakes his head. "Nah. I'm gonna go back to the sitting room."

"What?" Roy chuckles, "Too important to stay with adults?"

Tim raises his eyebrow challengingly. "Andy had the right idea. You adults are pretty boring."

The entire group laughs as he excuses himself, leaving the room quickly. He meets Cassie just outside the door.

"I'm Cassie Sandsmark," she says, holding her hand for a handshake.

Tim accepts, "Tim Drake."

"I know. You're pretty famous, y'know?"

He groans. "Don't remind me, man."

"Not all it's cracked up to be?"

"Not even close."

Cassie laughs and Tim joins her. It'll be a weight off his shoulders when his team finally knows him in and out of costume. Though, he knows they'll be hurt at first, they'll more likely find this prank hilarious, especially when he shows them the Cave footage of Phase One.

He and Cassie find Bart and Kon in the same corner as before, though they both have food and there's more people in the room.

"Hi," Tim greets, "I'm Tim Drake. I'm glad you could make it!"

"Connor Kent," he then points to Bart, "That's Bart Allen."

"Cassie Sandsmark," she says.

They all shake hands and merge conversations. For a moment, Tim can imagine that there's no secrets between them.

Eventually, the conversation turns to the Gotham Vigilantes.

"You know the rumors, don't you?" Tim says.

"What rumors?" Kon asks.

He watches his teammates for a seconds before glancing around the room and leaning in to whisper conspiratorially. They lean in as well. "That the Bats and his Birds aren't human."

There's a pause.

"Excuse me?" Cassie blinks.

Tim nods. "No one's quite sure where or when Batman showed up. And the others? None of them seem quite human. Some people think that Batman was created by the sheer amount of magic that's cursed the city."

Bart tilts his head to the side. "Gotham's cured?"

"Yep! Didn't you know that? Can't you feel it?"

"Drake," Damian says from behind the three heroes, startling them, "What are you doing?"

Tim shrugs, leaning away from his friends, "Telling my friends about the magic in Gotham."

"Tt. Baseless assumptions."

"Half of the rogues in the city are undead."

"What?" Kon half exclaims.

"The other half have PhDs in different fields." Damian refutes, "Your point?"

"Yeah, that's fair." Tim agrees, "Konnor, Cassie, Bart; this is my little brother Damian. Damian, this is Konnor Kent, Cassie Sandsmark, and Bart Allen."

"Pleasure to meet you." He was not convincing in the least.

"Nice to meet ya, little dude," Kon smiles.

Damian scowls. "Do not call me little."

"Aww!" Bart coos, laughing, "He's so cute!"

Damian bristles like a cat. "I am not-!"

He's cut off by Jon Kent throwing an arm over his shoulder. "Dami!" he smiles, "You've met my uncle now!"

Cassie does a double take. "You're an uncle?"

Kon shakes his head. "Yep."

"Jon," Damian says, significantly calmer now that his friend is here. "Remove your arm from my shoulder or I will remove it from yours."

Tim clicks his tongue. "Don't be like that, Dami. Who's your friend?"

"This is my nephew, as your heard," Kon introduces, "Jon Kent."

"You're Clark and Lois's kid, huh?" Tim asks.

"You know my parents?"

"'Course," he shrugs, "They've covered quite a few of the events that I've been to."

"You say that as though that's something to be proud of," Damian snarks.

"Shove off, Baby Bat."

If anyone asks, the slip was purposeful.

The group freezes.

For a long moment, their little corner is silent.

"No fucking way." Kon swears. "Red?!"

Tim barely hides his snort. "Surprise."

Damian sighs. "Nice going, Drake."

"Oh, shove off, brat. I was gonna tell them anyway." Quieter, he says, "Though, the meeting I was arranging is redundant now."

"Hold on, hold on, hold on!" Bart interrupts, 'What's going on?"

Sighing, Tim leans against the wall. "B decided it was time to tell our teams our real names, but, in true B fashion, he's being dramatic about it. We've pranked the Justice League, and I have the footage if you wanna see."

Cassie holds up her hand to make him stop talking. It works. "You're Red Robin. Which means you're Robin."

"Yes." Damian confirms.

"That means that Batman is Bruce Wayne." she says. It takes a second for her words to really sink in. "What the hell!"

"Are you gonna keep freaking out, or do you wanna see what we did to the Justice League last month?"

"Are you bribing us?" Bart asks, almost apauld.

"Is it working?"

"Yes."

Part 15 Part 17

[locitapurplepink]

Star Wars Poll Results so far 16

I have so much fun making star wars polls with you guys. Here's the list of winner from each poll posts that I've made

106. Favorite SW Resistance group (Team Fireball VS Ace Squadron)

Team Fireball

107. Favorite Chopper's look (Animation VS Live Action)

Animation

108. Favorite The Bad Batch undercover outfit

Echo's droid outfit

109. Favorite Omega's disguise outfit on Season 2 (Purple poncho VS Benni's jacket)

Purple Poncho

110. Favorite undercover droid (Chopper VS CB-23)

Chopper

111. Favorite Rex's outfit (Green hoodie VS Navy and Purple shirt)

Navy and Purple shirt

112. Favorite Star Wars Leader (Commander Sato VS Captain Doza)

Commander Sato

[angelynmoon]

Eldritch Steve

part 16

-

Nancy sits at her mother's bedside, has for hours, ever since Hopper what her happened. Sometimes she holds her mothet's hand, other times it feels too limp in her grip and she holds her own hands. She doesn't know what to do, there is si much to do. She has to tell Mike and Holly, has to prepare for how shes going to take care of them.

She doesn't know how she's going to do that. She only just moved out. She doesn't have the room, and she doesn't have the money for something bigger. She doesn't know what she is going to do.

She feels so alone as she sits listening to the steady beat of the hear heart moniter, Hopper had been kind enough to drop her off after he told her.

Nancy blinked.

She doesn't know where Mike and Holly are, it hadn't occured to her to ask Hopper this morning.

Oh. She was already so bad at this guardian thing, she hadn't even been good at baby sitting, hated that by she'd been forced to watch her siblings while her mother went grocery shopping.

What was she going to do. She wasn't ready for kids and neither Jonathan or Argyle, were either, she wasn't even sure she wanted her own.

Steve's talk had given her heebie Jeebies and she was glad he'd turned to Munson for that, even though she had realized Steve was just telling her because he wanted someone to know and not that he wanted her as the mother in his dream, she suspected that Steve might be the mother in that scenario.

Nancy let out a small noise as she buned her face in her hands. What was she going to do?

-

It was hours later that the door opened slowly.

Nancy turned and tried to smile for Mike but it didn't quite make it.

"Hey" She said and opened her arms, only a little bit surprised when mike fell into them.

They hugged for a long time, silently taking comfort in each other.

"Holly didn't want to come." Eddie said eventually, "and Steve didn't think it wise to force the issue.

Nancy looked over at him and nodded. "Okay. Thank you for bringing Mike."

"Of course" Eddie gave her a look and tilted his head toward the door.

"Hey, Mikie, I've got to talk to Eddie a moment, can I leave you with mom, maybe tell her about your day?" Nancy asked.

Mike tightened his before nodding and pushing her away taking Nancy's position at their mother's side as she left the room, leaving the door slightly open as they stood in the hall.

"Steve talked to his mother and Claudia." Eddie started. "Claudia is going to take Mike until Karen wakes up and Emilia is going to open a trust for in him and Holly and give Claudia a stipend for taking care of him.

Nancy's mouth dropped open

"What?"

Eddie looked at her.

"Your mom had a living willn Steve gets Holly and Mike. Hopper had it Read this morning, so things could get settled and we talked it out with Mike and he'd rather not live with Steve, So Claudia was asked since she's got the room and we Got that Sorted so you don't need to worry about that, we also had a talk with the party.

"Jonathan is stopping by later with food and Argyle is going to take you home for sleep, we cleared Jonathan to stay the night with her, if anyone askes you're married and Robin's your sister and Argyle is her husband, they'll take shifts so your mom's not alone, even Wayne's going to take a few hours."

Eddie looked at Nancys wide tearfilled eyes and pulled her into a hug.

"You're not alone, we are here if you need us and you're not getting out of it. We've got your back, whether its involves monster monsters or human monsters."

Nancy sniffled.. "You think I can talk Dteve into eating Ted." Nancy asked through her tears.

"Might finally give him Indigestion. "Eddie told her and smiled a little when she laughed " but I'll give him the heads up."

"Okay, I should get back in there." Nancy said eventually.

"Remember, you've got a safety net, Nancy, We are here for you when you need us." Eddie reminded her.

Nancy nodded "Is Mike?"

"Argyle is dropping him off at Steve's, the kids are having a Sleep over and we're doing a campaign to get his mind off this, the other other guys are even going to come hang out. So, he knows the plan and he said he'd let us know if he changes his mind but he's not going to be alone.

"Robin and Joyce are going to go to yours and take you to Claudia's, where you and them along with Lucas' mom are going to have a girls night. and figure out your next steps, even if it just ends up being where you plan Ted's death."

Nancy looked at Eddie.

"Thank you, Eddie, tell Steve too, I feel better knowing Holly and Mike are taken care of." Nancy said.

"You are too, Emilia paid a year of your rent, she wanted to do more but Stevr made her hold off. So, you can just focus on taking care of Karen right now." Eddie told her, not surprised when Nancy ran into the hospital room to hide her feelings, she felt over whelmed by the support of her friends, no, they were family too.

Nancy sniffled and then turned to Mike, walking over to cram her self in the same chair, her brother turning to cling to her just as much as she clung to him.

Holly was safe with Steve, Mike was safe, had a place to sleep and go if the worst happened and she didn't have to worry about anything but her mother.

And Ted... Ted would get what he deserved.

She hoped Steve made him suffer.

And the moniter beeped steadily.

--

@addelyin @merricatty @lesbiabrobin @apuckishwit @0o-mushroom-o0 @starlight-archer @darkwitchoferie @just-a-tiny-void @swimmingbirdrunningrock @intergalactic-president-awesome @vampireinthesun @goodolefashionedloverboi @adhdsummer @purpleanimeoverart @space-invading-pigeon @lilaclilyroses @nohomoyesbi @plantzzsandpencilzzs @korixae @subversivecynic @flusteredcas @persnicketysquares @freddykicksasses @little-trash-ghost @cupcakesnwhiskey @cats-ate-all-of-my-pasta @planetsoda @paintsplatteredandimperfect @irregular-child

@daydreamsandcrashingwaves

@lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @steddieassheg0es

[spewagepipe]

The Evolution of RPGs: Freies Kriegsspiel & Strategos

The rules of the freies kriegsspiel were published in 1876 – five years after the conclusion of the Franco-Prussian war, and so five years too late for the rest of the world to care. The so-called "rigid" Reisswitz wargame was the version that was exported around the globe – although for my money there is very little evidence that either kriegsspiel played a major role in the war. Internal bickering about how unplayable the Reisswitz game was suggests that relatively few of the officers in that war were actually heavily trained on the Reisswitz rules – and the Prussians often won their battles through sheer numbers, suffering incredible casualties as a result of their strategic incompetence, even in victory. Put in context, the freies kriegsspiel was essentially just an admission by the Prussian General Staff that the very idea of developing an accurate model of warfare is futile. It was not a major advance (as many RPG historians would have it), rather it was an abandonment of the project entirely. Strategos, the American reinterpretation of Reisswitz by Charles Adiel Lewis Totten published in 1880, struggles with the same issue. Totten clearly regards his "game" as something more like a scientific model. He stresses the need that whoever is running should also be a scientist of warfare: they should be equipped to endlessly redesign the simulation to accommodate new empirical data and ideas. Today, these two games are little more than historical footnotes, both in terms of warfare and of game design. They merit mention only in the context of having been incidental influences on David Wesely.

Click here for the index of my Evolution of RPGs posts.

[zepskies]

Break Me Down - Part 16

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

AN: *Deep inhale, deeper exhale* Okay. You ready? 

Word Count: 5,800 Tags/Warnings: Blood and peril, violence, angst, and yet another cliffhanger. (Last one, I promise!) 

Part 16: Soldier Boy

You fled with Jon, Frank, and Loco to escape the bowels of Vought Tower. 

You all were lucky that the Security & Surveillance room hadn’t been caught in the blast, but on the monitors you had seen it carve through the center of the building like a beam of light. 

You could freak out about that later though. Now you were in flight mode, just trying to survive and evade falling debris and unsteady ground. 

Frank kicked through a locked door on the way to the nearest stairwell. You and Jon made it through, but a huge chunk of debris fell, cutting Loco off from the rest of you. 

You gasped and went to the doorway, trying to see if you could help push it out of the way. But more of the ceiling was still falling and threatened to crush you. Frank pulled you back, even though you knew he was worried too.

“Just go!” Loco said. “I’ll find another way out.”

“Head east,” Jon said. “There’s another stairwell by Human Resources.”

“Vought HR. What a fucking joke,” you couldn’t help but quip. But after Loco took off, you grabbed Frank’s arm and headed down the hall. You could see the “EXIT” sign up ahead. It led to a gray door, where several people were fleeing down the stairs. 

Including Dr. Tonya Baker and three of her guards. 

You and Frank stopped her before the door with your guns raised. Frank killed each guard with precision, while you kept your gun aimed on the good doctor. She raised her hand in wide-eyed surrender, but her other hand held a briefcase. You gestured to it with your gun.

“What’s that? Open it up,” you said. When the doctor hesitated, you pointed the gun back in her face. “Now.”

Gritting her teeth, she obliged you by entering the code that would unlock the briefcase. Jon took it from her and showed you its contents.

There were several files and blue vials of what you assumed were Compound V. However, you noticed three small white containers that weren’t like the rest. They were labeled: Soldier Boy. 

“What are these?” you asked. Dr. Baker was tight-lipped, until you pressed the gun between her eyes. 

“DNA samples,” she answered reluctantly. Your face fell, then hardened into a glare. 

“Well, fuck that,” you said.

With your gun trained on the doctor, you grabbed a glass container and smashed it to the ground, making her flinch. Stale-smelling yellow liquid splattered on the floor, and you realized then what kind of “sample” it must’ve been. Jon grimaced; some of it had splashed onto his shoes.

“Thank you,” he groused. 

“Oh, I’m not done,” you said. And you did the same to the last two containers. You took the briefcase from your father and gave it to Frank. “Take this and Madam Fritz here to the S.A.”

“What are you about to do?” Frank asked, though he took the briefcase from you (and laid a firm hand on Dr. Baker’s shoulder). “I don’t like that damn look in your eye.”

You turned to the scientist. “Did you see anyone else still in the building?”

“A few,” she admitted. “Mostly in the lower floors. Admin, Customer Service, R&D.”

Your eyes flew wide in alarm. Yvette, your friend who worked in Customer Service. She could be trapped down there…

Jon turned to you with a frown. “The only way they’re getting out is when the Fire Department comes to collect the bodies.”

You glared back and raised your gun at him next. 

“Guess who’s going to help me get them out?” You glanced at Frank, who didn’t look pleased. “Don’t make that face. I’ll be fine.”

“The tower’s literally falling apart as we speak!” Jon exclaimed. He tried to push your gun away from his face, but you held it aloft. 

“Move your ass or catch a bullet,” you snapped. “We’re going to Customer Service first.”

Ben continued to fight Black Noir.

He still wanted to cave in Stan Edgar’s skull, and it had the added benefit of giving Butcher and his team the cover they needed to try and escape the tower. That wasn’t in his mind though. He was focused on his two targets. 

He’d grabbed a discarded gun from the floor when he’d gotten back up to his feet. He now used it to shoot Stan in the leg, to stop him from fleeing. The man cried out and went down hard on the newly installed tile. 

Ben raised the gun again to shoot him between the eyes, but Noir stopped him. He grabbed Ben’s arm and hurled him over his shoulder. He landed in the broken shambles of Stan’s desk, and the impact further destabilized the top floor of the building. 

Parts of the ceiling had already begun to break off, and Stan noticed. He tried to drag himself towards the door while Soldier Boy was distracted. Blood trailed after his bleeding leg, but he was determined, fighting for his life. 

In fact, he almost made it. 

But just when he was a mere three feet from the door, a massive panel of the ceiling (along with a silver light fixture), crashed down over him. If the concrete hadn’t crushed his bones, the ceiling light would’ve impaled him—right through his chest. 

Ben watched the scene from where he half-lay on the ground in the rubble. His eyes marginally widened, but then his mouth quirked in satisfaction. One down…

His hand closed over a metal rod, yanking it from a piece of rock and wood, and he got to his feet. When Noir flew at him again, Ben lodged the metal rod deep into his exposed ear. If it had worked for Maeve on Homelander, he’d figured it could work on Noir.

And it did. The supe remained mute, expressionless, but the projectile lodged into his ear canal still made him wince. He clawed at it with shaking hands, trying to get it out. Ben didn’t give him a chance—he drop-kicked the other supe into the large glass window.

They’d given this clone Homelander’s strength, but forgot to give him flight, it seemed. Because the supe fell and kept falling off the side of the tower. 

Ben stood there in the center of the destroyed room. 

He panted for breath, only then did he notice his own fatigue. His limbs felt heavy, and it nearly buckled his knees. He forced himself to stay upright. Ben would never admit it, but whatever that gun had blasted him with, it did a number on him. 

Ignoring how his hand shook, he raised it to his ear. 

“Stan Edgar’s dead,” he said. “So is Noir, probably. I’m headed down.”

Hughie helped Butcher to the van in the garage, but he stopped short. An ex-military-looking guy was walking toward him with a briefcase in hand, and leading a doctor in a lab coat with the other. 

“It’s you!” M.M. recognized him with a sharpening gaze. “From the airport. You’re one of Soldier Boy’s men.”

Frank gave the doctor over to M.M., informing them that you had asked him to put Dr. Baker into custody. At the mention of your name, Annie’s eyes widened.

“Oh my God, she’s still in there!” she said. She turned on her comm and called your name. “Where the hell are you?”

“Uh…little busy at the moment,” you replied. 

Predictably, Soldier Boy got on the line next. 

“What? Where the fuck are you?”

Annie grimaced at the man’s tone. But she marveled, because she could hear the depths of his worry for you.

“Still in the tower. Some people are trapped on the second floor,” you replied. Soldier Boy’s growl of frustration came through. 

“Where are you exactly?” he demanded.

“Admin department, second floor,” you told Ben. You were prying open the door to the former when the ground beneath your feet trembled. “Oh shit!”

You needed both hands to stabilize yourself against the wall, but it was Jon who helped you stay upright. And he finished what you started, wrenching open the door and letting out a crowd of desperate people clamoring to get out. 

Once most of them passed, you and Jon slipped inside the large Administration office. Inside were various cubicles, conference rooms, and internal offices, one of which was Customer Service. That was your goal as you jogged through the halls. Jon fell into step with you.

“Look,” Jon began. “Everything I did—”

“I don’t want to hear it,” you said sharply. “I don’t have time for a meaningless heart-to-heart with you.”

You called out for Yvette, or anyone still trapped inside one of the offices. You heard a distant voice respond, and you followed it. You were led all the way to the end of the hall, where a chunk of debris had fallen outside of a glass office door. Inside was a group of about ten people.

“Okay, hold on!” you told them. “Stand back from the door.”

You and your father worked to clear the debris. But he looked up at you with something you’d never seen before in his eyes, though you refused to acknowledge it now. 

“When I came back from Vietnam, I saw what this country had become. How these asshole supes had taken over the goddamn world,” Jon said, though it was labored between bouts of lifting. 

He briefly grasped at his chest in pain. And you remembered then that Ben had broken at least his arm and collarbone. He even wore a cast on his forearm, which you finally noticed beneath his jacket sleeve. 

“You were different from your sister. Even at a young age, I saw that spark of fire in you. Hardheaded, even at the best of times,” he said, with a flicker of a smile. “I just wanted to make sure you were strong enough to handle this snake pit of a fucking world.”

He paused to look up at you. “But you were strong in spite of me.”

You had to stop and catch your breath. As his words registered, tears began to burn in your eyes. But you refused to let them fall. Nor did you respond.

Once the doorway was clear, you were able to open the door and let the people out. The last of them was Yvette, and her son Devon.

“Oh my God,” she gasped when she saw you. Tears fell from the corners of her eyes as she pulled you into a hug, and you returned it. 

“Are you okay?” you asked in relief. She tried and failed at a smile. Still weeping, she took her eight-year-old son’s hand and guided him out along with her. 

“Well, now we are. What are you doing here?”

“I’ll explain later. Come on,” you said. You flashed Devon a smile and reached out your hand. “Hey, Devon. Let’s go, buddy.”

He was crying, but he nodded and grabbed your hand too. 

“He had a stomachache,” Yvette whispered to you. “I pulled him out of school early. I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s okay, we’re getting out,” you told her. Jon brought up the rear to make sure you all made it out of the office unit safely. 

You made it down to the gift shop on the first floor, but a small crowd had formed at the back exit to the garage—which by now, was the only safe route out of the tower. The lobby was completely destroyed. 

The problem was, the garage exit was now blocked by debris as well.

“All right,” Jon sighed. “There’s another way, through the custodian entrance—”

Three shots rang out. You ducked and took Yvette with you, but you choked on a gasp when you looked back…

Jon had a gloved fist punched through his chest cavity. 

You watched with wide eyes as Black Noir revoked his arm from your father’s body with a wet, horrific sound. You gasped when Jon fell to his knees.

But to your shock, the supe glanced right past you, Yvette, and Devon. His pale gray eyes focused on only the men in the room. He then strode forward and began picking them off one by one.

You shakily pointed out a large aisle of A-Train merchandise for your friend to hide behind. Yvette pulled her son in that direction, while you went to your father where he laid on the ground. 

With difficulty, you rolled him onto his back. You then laid a hand on his shoulder, while the other hovered over his chest. Blood pooled through the gaping chasm in his Vought-issued black jacket. 

Your lower lip trembled, and you realized then that you were crying as he struggled for breath. Even after everything he’d done to you—to your family—it still hurt you to see him like this…to know that he was dying. 

And there was no time. Not to save him, or for resolution…

“Dad,” you tried, but he stopped you. His brows were furrowed with pain, but he gripped your wrist tight. 

“Run,” he said. He held on for a moment or two longer, but when the light faded from his eyes, you closed yours. 

You struggled against a sob. His grip eased from your wrist, and you laid his hand to rest on the ground. 

Protect yourself, your sister’s voice reminded you. You couldn’t stay out in the open like this. Black Noir had finished with the men, and now was starting in on the rest of the survivors. It seemed that without a handler, the clone had no orders to fulfill except his own. 

With a ragged breath, you retrieved the gun from your belt and had to leave your father behind. 

You joined Yvette and Devon behind the A-Train aisle and warned them with a finger over your lips to stay quiet. You pressed a shaking finger to the comm in your ear. 

“Ben, where are you?” you asked. Maybe he heard the tremor in your voice, because you certainly read the concern in his.

“You’re not on the second floor. Where are you?”

You closed your eyes for a beat. “On the first floor. The garage is blocked and Noir has us bottlenecked.”

“I’m almost there. Just stay put,” Ben said. His tone was firm, and it reassured you. You nodded, despite the fact that he couldn’t see you. 

“Yeah, not going anywhere in a hurry,” you whispered.

You could hear the agonized screams of people dying in the room, but you knew you couldn’t do anything about it. Tears slipped down your cheeks as you looked back at your father’s body on the cold ground. But with a determined breath, you looked at Yvette and Devon, who were clearly terrified. 

You cocked your gun and nodded at them to move forward down the aisle, but to stay low to the ground. The custodian entrance was on the first floor, but it was in the east wing of the tower. You were in the west wing. The only feasible way out was through the blocked garage exit, just up ahead. 

But so was Black Noir. The only thing you could do was stay alive long enough for Ben to find you. Because there was no way you could exit the room the way you came without Noir spotting you. 

Fuck. This wasn’t going to be easy. And all the while, the tower could come crashing down at any moment. The tremors in the walls and in the ground were increasing with every minute as pieces of the floor above continued to fall. 

A nightmare, for which you’d surely need copious amounts of therapy, if you survived this. 

No sooner had that thought filtered through your mind, when a katana flashed above your head, decapitating a cardboard cutout of The Deep. Yvette and Devon yelped in fright, but you grabbed them and shoved them forward into a sprint down the aisle with your head bowed. 

Bullets ripped after you, into the ground and the rows of merch. You turned a corner and stopped behind a large metal shelf lined with Queen Maeve plushies. 

But the three of you screamed when the katana ripped through the shelf, and one of the unfortunate plushies. 

You all stumbled into the open, where Noir soon found you. He raised his katana level with your face, and your eyes grew wide. But before the blade could slice into you, Noir was yanked back and thrown across the room, into the far wall with a heavy impact. He recovered, of course, but he paused.

Because Soldier Boy now stood between him and his targets. 

You looked up at Ben with relieved tears in your eyes—both for him saving your life, and just at the sight of him. He mostly looked all right, if a bit worse for wear. You knew you were much the same, dusty, bruised, and tearful. 

He flashed you a quirk of a smile. 

“Go, get out of here,” he said. 

“We can’t,” you started to say, but an explosion behind you made you flinch. You turned to see that the debris covering the garage exit had been cleared. It its place was M.M., Annie, Kimiko, and Frenchie, the latter waving a spare stick of dynamite. You smirked, even though your eyes glittered with unshed tears. 

“Okay, let’s go!” You reached for Devon and helped Yvette pick him up.

However, the dynamite blast had ruined what small semblance of stability was left in the ground floor. The ceiling began to fall—first near the exit, then right behind you, cutting you off from Ben. You gasped, but you didn’t have time to call out to him. 

And you heard M.M. and Annie calling out to you. All you could do was push Yvette forward, then drag her back when a massive chunk of concrete nearly fell on her and her son. 

But that’s when you lost your footing, and your balance, tipping backwards with a halting shriek.

You were trapped. Ben knew it the moment the wall of debris cut you off from him. He heard your voice, your scream, but he knew he couldn’t help you until he finished off Noir, for the last time. 

“All right, Earving. Let’s make this quick,” Ben said. “I don’t know if there’s any part of you left in there, but this would be a good fucking time to come out with some last words.”

The gray-eyed supe just stared back at him. His katana was drawn, and he slowly slid back into a crouched stance. Ben’s body tensed as well. The effects of Noir’s gun were still making his hands shake, but Ben clenched them into fists. He couldn’t afford weakness right now. 

So when Noir ran forward, Ben waited for the supe to come to him. He dodged the swipe of the blade, and threw out smart punches and combinations that started to push Noir back.

The blade came down again, but Ben blocked it with his shield. It cut through the top of it. But Ben used the momentary pause to kick Noir straight in the chest. He tore the blade from his shield and threw it away. Then he tossed his shield like a fatal frisbee. 

The supe narrowly dodged it, but he couldn’t escape Ben grappling him to the ground. He put all his energy into lighting the nuclear fuse in his chest. 

It was hard to keep it steady after the destabilizing gun, but no matter how Noir thrashed, Ben squeezed around his neck with all his might to keep him pinned. With a ragged yell, a flash of power escaped him. It fried through Noir’s suit, though it only lightly burned his skin. 

When the power ran its course, Noir lost his strength. The clone was now powerless. 

Ben grabbed a knife from the other supe’s belt, and he was able to break skin, stabbing into the center of the man’s chest. He didn’t let go until the clone’s gray eyes were truly lifeless.

Ben drew in ragged breaths. Gathering his strength, he pushed off of Noir and managed, with difficulty, back onto his feet. He felt satisfied, but maybe there was a bitter tinge to it. This thing had been created with Homelander’s DNA, and ultimately, Homelander had been a product of Soldier Boy.

Of Ben himself. 

He knew it wasn’t his fault. That lay dead with Stan. But Ben knew that he’d wasted a lot of time. For all his bravado, he had let himself be manipulated and controlled. For fame and money and women, and everything else that came with that.  

“Soldier Boy! Are you there?” he heard your friend call out. It broke him out of the haze of his exhaustion. He shook his head sharply to focus. 

He called back for you, nearing the wall of debris, but you didn’t answer. He was able to break some of it away, enough that he was finally able to see Yvette’s worried face. 

“Where is she?” he asked. A coil of dread stirred in the pit of his stomach. 

“She’s hurt,” said Yvette. 

The coil tightened, as did Ben’s jaw. 

“All right, stand back,” he ordered. He grabbed his discarded shield and held it aloft. 

“Okay, go ahead!” she said. 

He used his shield like a battering ram to get through the pile of wood and concrete. It loosened even more of the trembling ceiling and plunged the entire clearing with dust. Ben waved a hand through it, coughing as he stepped inside. He found Yvette and her son, but his eyes were drawn to you.

You’d fallen on your back, and a slab of concrete was pinning your leg. He moved it with a grunt, and it fell to the ground with a heavy impact. He examined your leg next; he was no doctor, but he could assume it was probably broken under the weight of concrete. 

Okay. Doctors could fix a fucking leg, he reasoned. He was more concerned about your head. Had you hit it on the way down, or had you smacked it on the hard tile when you landed?

Your hair was loose, and he slid careful fingers through it. He felt a small knot forming behind your head. He touched your pale cheek…

And then he saw it. 

You weren’t lying entirely on the ground. You’d fallen on a small pile of rubble, and sticking out an inch below your shoulder was a thick piece of rebar.

Fuck, he thought. Your pulse at your neck was still beating under the pads of his fingers. 

But then, he paused. He was starting to hear something, a deeper tremor than the occasional rubble falling from the ceiling. 

“Are you guys okay?” M.M. called. With all the debris, he couldn’t quite get to you all. But maybe he could find a hole underneath the rubble to squeeze you out of. 

“The tower’s coming down!” Ben barked. 

“Yeah, that’s why we need to get the fuck out of here,” M.M. replied.

“No, the whole fucking thing. It’s coming down now!” Ben said. Yvette grabbed her son and huddled closer to you and Ben. He quickly stood and surveyed his surroundings in search of a larger shield. 

The only thing in reach was a large metal shelf. It would have to do. 

He grabbed it and ran back to you, just in time for the world to start falling. 

Ben blinked dust and plaster out of his eyes and coughed it out of his mouth. He was holding God knew how much of the tower on his back. The metal groves of the shelf were digging into his spine and between his shoulder blades. 

When his vision cleared, he saw that Yvette was knocked out, bleeding from a cut on her temple. Maybe a stray rock had hit her. 

Her son seemed all right though, if covered in dust. 

“You okay, kid?” Ben asked. He nodded shakily, his eyes wide like he couldn’t believe he was still alive. Ben could understand that.

However, you were the one he was worried about. He called your name, but you didn’t respond. Ben looked up at the kid. 

“Shake her a little, would ya? Not hard.”

The kid nodded, biting his lip. He gently shook your arm, calling your name. Eventually you coughed and opened your eyes on a moan of pain. Ben let out a short, relieved breath.

“Hey…how you doin’?”

“Hurts to breathe,” you admitted, coughing up more dust. But you cried out when trying to get up disturbed your shoulder. “What…?”

“Don’t move,” he warned you. “You’re uh…you’re pinned down.” 

With trembling lips, you turned your head and saw what held you—the rebar protruding just beneath your shoulder. You let out a ragged breath. 

An inch lower and it would’ve been your heart. 

The problem was, you were sure you would bleed out anyway the moment you were freed from the rebar. 

“Don’t look at it,” Ben said firmly. “Look at me.”

You blinked up at him with watery eyes. You finally realized that he was kneeling, holding up a massive shelf to cover all four of you. 

“Oh my God. Are you okay?” you asked. A tear streamed down the side of your face. 

Ben nodded. Really, it was taking all the strength he had left to hold up this piece of shit, but he wasn’t about to let you know that. 

“I can do this all fucking day,” he said with a smirk. “But maybe check in with your friends so we can get the hell out of here.”

Letting out another shaky breath, you raised the hand opposite to your pinned shoulder and pressed a finger to the comm in your ear. 

“Are you guys still there? Did anyone make it out?” you asked.

For a moment, it was silent. You looked over at Devon, who was quietly crying. You reached out your free hand to him, even if it made more blood weep from your shoulder. He grabbed your hand, and you gave his a comforting squeeze. 

“It’s okay, Dev. We’re getting out soon,” you tried to sooth him. Devon nodded and squeezed your hand back. 

Ben watched the exchange with interest. You seemed to have a good way with kids…

“Hello?” you repeated into the comm. Your voice was weak and raspy, even to your own ears. You released your shaking hand back to the ground. “No one’s answering…where’s Yvette?”

“Knocked out for a bit, but she looks fine,” said Ben, nodding to where your friend was lying on the ground. 

Though he realized he was starting to lose you when your eyes closed. 

“Hey,” he barked. “Stay with me.”

The near shout forced you to open your eyes, but they were already starting to droop. Ben finally noticed the blood slipping away from you, starting to pool beneath your arm. 

“I’m awake, just resting my eyes,” you said. Not very convincing. 

Ben experimentally lowered an arm from supporting the shelf. He moved slow, and he heard shifting rubble above him, but he managed to balance the shelf on just his back. He grit his teeth at the strain.

Even for him, the weight was immense. He didn’t know how long they could wait for someone to get to them. But he could see the kid was frozen with fear.

“You’re gonna be fine, all right?” Ben said.

The kid was tearful, but he nodded.

“What’s your name?” Ben asked.

“Devon.”

“All right, Devon. You know who I am?”

“…Soldier Boy,” the kid replied in a small voice. His large brown eyes were filled with tears as he sniffed. His short hair and dark tan skin were covered with dust, so Ben could see the path of his tears down his cheeks and neck. He gave Devon an attempt at a smile and nodded. 

“That’s right.”

Finally, some of the debris near Yvette cleared a small hole above the ground, revealing Kimiko. Her eyes widened with excitement, her mouth falling open in a quiet gasp. She smiled and ducked her head back out. Ben frowned in confusion as he heard the French guy and some of the others babbling. 

“Hello?” he snapped. “The fuck is going on out there?” 

M.M. peered in next and took in the four of you with relief. He met Ben’s gaze.

“They’ll need a stretcher,” Ben said, gesturing at you and Yvette. “And a medic.”

“Okay, we’re gonna see if we can open this hole a bit wider,” M.M. said. He frowned at the narrow space inside. “It’s gonna be hard to get a stretcher in here.”

“Just get it done,” Ben said, beginning to lose his patience. He was carrying the tower on his back, and you were fading before his eyes. 

M.M. nodded and was gone. But he returned soon after with Kimiko, and both worked together to open the hold wider without dislodging more debris. Once they had a big enough hole, M.M. peered in.

“Okay, who’s first?”

“She is,” Ben said, nodding down at you. “Bring the stretcher.”

Once again, M.M. disappeared.

Ben looked over at Devon. 

“She’s hurt bad. We’re going to get her out first,” Ben said, gesturing at you. “I’m going to need you to hold her down, by her shoulders. After I take out the rebar, you’re going to put pressure on the wound. Got it?”

Devon looked unsure. 

“Got it?” Ben repeated. More tears slid down the boy’s cheeks as he shook his head.

“Listen, you little sh—” Ben started to snap in irritation.

But at the last moment, he stopped himself. He remembered how you were with the kid earlier, tried to think of what you might say right about now. 

“Uh, you can do this,” he said, gruff and a bit awkward. 

“I don’t want to hurt her,” Devon said in a small voice. 

At that, annoyance slowly drained out of Ben. He reached out and grasped the kid’s shoulder, firm, but gentle.

“You won’t. You’re going to help her,” he said. “Just hold her down, and I’ll do the rest. All right?”

He hesitated, but Devon nodded and wiped his face dry. 

“Good man,” Ben nodded. “Now come on, over here.”

Devon moved so that he was behind you, holding your shoulders down.

You grimaced and made a sound of pain. But Ben was quick; he braced your shoulder with one hand and slid the rebar out with the other. He forced himself to remain stoic at your resulting screech of agony. 

But Devon couldn’t. His tears came down anew, and he immediately released your shoulders. Ben moved you more fully onto the ground and instructed Devon to put pressure on the wound, leaning his body weight into it. 

“Stay awake,” Ben warned you. He knew you were having a hard time, and tears streamed from the corners of your eyes, onto the ground below. You forced your eyes to open, so you could look up at him.

“Ben,” you tried, but if this was going to be an if I die speech, then he didn’t want to fucking hear it.

“Don’t talk,” he said sternly. “Just keep breathing.”

“Listen,” you insisted. With difficulty, you grabbed onto the metal embellishments on his suit, finding purchase on his chest. 

“You are strong. You can do anything you want, you know,” you said, smiling wryly. “Including, being a better man.” 

Ben looked down at you with knitted brows. Sweat slipped down his forehead, but he didn’t know what to say to you. 

Until you let go of his suit, and your eyes started to close. 

“Fuck. Stay awake, damn it!” he snapped. It was an effort, but you opened your eyes. 

Then Yvette started to rouse, raising a hand to her aching head. 

“Oh, thanks for joining us,” Ben remarked, unable to disguise most of his snark. Devon helped her sit properly. 

When she saw you, paler than ever, she gasped and took over putting pressure on your wound. 

M.M. then finally returned with the stretcher. He beckoned Devon out first.

“Come on, little man.”

Ben opened his mouth to snap a protest, but M.M. shook his head. 

“It’s too narrow. They need to come out first to make room.”

Devon eyed the jagged concrete around the hole they’d created. He seemed scared to attempt taking M.M.’s hand to leave. 

He looked back at Yvette, who encouraged him forward. But he also looked over at Ben. 

He was frankly surprised the kid was looking to him for reassurance. Again, he thought of what you’d said to Devon earlier. 

“It’s okay,” Ben said. “You’re going home today. Trust me, son.” 

Devon stared at his face for a moment, and nodded tearfully. 

When M.M. was eventually able to take the boy’s hand, he met Ben’s gaze, which was mostly covered by stoicism. 

Devon made it out of the cave, followed by Yvette. While she climbed out, Ben took over putting pressure on your wound, even though it made the shelf creak. He grunted against the pressure on his back. 

Then M.M. finally slipped in the stretcher. Ben roused you by tapping on your cheek. He accidentally left a smudge of your own blood there.

“Come on, baby doll. Work with me here,” he muttered. You whimpered in response.  

You were so pale, but you were fighting to keep your eyes open. You’re a fighter, Ben reminded himself, as he helped M.M. maneuver you onto the stretcher.

“See you later, sweetheart,” he said.

“Wait,” you croaked. “Wait…how’re you getting out?” 

Ben quirked a smile. 

“I’m right behind you.” But he then glared up at M.M. “Hurry the fuck up. She’s still bleeding out.”

M.M. shot him a dark look, but he ignored Ben in order to help you. After you were taken out on the stretcher, Annie called out to him. 

“The fire department’s about to come in with pressure bags, so you can drop the shelf,” she said.  

True to her word, Ben started to hear a sharp whirring—the sound of something inflating. 

But as soon as they started, the ground shook. 

And the walls once again began to collapse around him. 

AN: *cowers in the corner* Please don't hate me! I promise, you're going to like the ultimate outcome of the next chapter (despite the teaser lol).

But I would still love to hear your thoughts on this one! What did you think of Jon's ultimate fate? How did you like Ben literally holding up the Tower?

(And did you catch the small Captain America reference? 😏)

**Side note: I hope you all enjoyed "Love Actually"! It's a far cry from where we are right now in BMD world lol...

Next Time:

Part of him refused to believe it had gotten to this. 

And the reality, that this was his fault. He’d caused the blast that destroyed the tower. His fault he hadn’t gotten to you sooner.

“You are the reason I needed saving,” you’d told him once. 

You were right then, and it still held up now. 

So, no…he wouldn’t go in there, into your room. The truth was, he couldn’t. 

Keep Reading: PART 17

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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[ejzah]

Blunt Force, Part 16

***

A couple days after they spoke, Eric made arrangement to bring by the files they’d discussed. Deeks didn’t know quite what to expect, but when he saw the tall, blonde haired guy in khaki shorts and a patterned shirt, he decided he liked him. If for his individualism if nothing else.

“Hey, it’s nice to meet you. Again,” Deeks joked, stepping aside for Eric to come in. “Thanks for coming by.” The guy had a nervous kind of energy about him, but Deeks’ gut impression was he was someone who he could trust. At the very least, he seemed excited rather than worried or mistrustful.

“Oh, it’s no problem,” Eric insisted. “I’ve bee looking for an excuse to come by.”

“Why would you need an excuse?”

“I didn’t want to bother you.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but my calendar’s a little empty right now,” Deeks pointed out. Eric still looked uncertain, so he asked, “We’re friends, right?”

“Yeah,” Eric confirmed.

“Then you’re welcome anytime. Right now I can use all the friends I can get.“

“Ok.” Setting his bag on the coffee table, Eric started to pull out the contents, then turned back to Deeks. “I really do miss you. We used to surf sometimes and at work, you’re one of the few people who really get me. You know? Our team is full of misfits and outcasts, but uh, we are…”

“Misunderstood?” Deeks supplied.

“Exactly.” Eric’s smile held a hint of melancholy, which Deeks understood perfectly. The sure amount of effort and time it took to gain some level of respect could be disheartening.

Deeks watched Eric set up a computer and type in an impressively long password. “Here, you can look at these while I finish pulling up some files.” One handed, Eric passed Deeks a pretty thick file. “It’s your personnel records,” he explained.

“How likely is this to get you in trouble?” Deeks asked, not liking the idea of Eric bearing the brunt of any fallout if Hetty Lange or someone else higher up found out he took restricted information off site and also showed it to an operative in limbo.

“Possibly,” Eric said with a pronounced grimace. “I’m pretty good at covering my trail though. As long as I stay here while you look through anything confidential we should be o. You’re still a federal liaison, even though you’re on leave, so your full clearance hasn’t been removed. And just to be safe, I redacted anything to risk to national security. Not that I don’t trust you.” He said the last part in a rush, as if Deeks had any room to complain.

“I get it, man. I don’t want you risking your job to satisfy my curiosity.”

“Well, you’re one of the few people I’m willing to risk it for. Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that. Ok, this is from the very first NCIS case you were involved with.” Eric gestured to a long row of open tabs. “These go in chronological order. I didn’t pull anything from before you were with us since accessing LAPD files without due cause seemed like I’d be pushing my luck.”

“Thanks. This is more than enough,” Deeks said.

“Here.” Stepping aside, Eric indicated Deeks should take his place, and make himself at home on the couch.

Deeks sat, scrolling through the first document and quickly getting lost in his first encounter with NCIS, where both he and Sam Hanna were undercover on separate cases. Despite the significant gaps thanks to many redactions. It was yet another surreal experience to read about his own actions in the third person and for what felt like the first time.

He’d clicked on the third case report when he noticed the bolded date at the top.

“Hey Eric?”

“Yes?”

“There’s a big gap in time between my first case as liaison and the second. What happened there?“

“Oh, yeah, as soon as we wrapped that case, you went undercover,” Eric explained, looking over Deeks’ shoulder. “You’d spent a lot of time setting everything up, so you didn’t want to risk losing the chance.”

“And I’m guessing it wasn’t a fun, tiptoe through the tulips kind of job,” Deeks said, growing more disquieted the further he scrolled through down.

“Uh, not exactly.”

When Deeks looked at him expectantly, Eric clarified, “Human trafficking, drugs. We came in when it looked like you’d been blown up.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah, it was pretty rough.”

“Did I—do I work on cases like this often?” Deeks asked softly. He’d thought the district attorney’s office was bad, this sounded so much worse.

“Yeah, you were on the LAPD undercover unit. You were known for taking the long and deep covers. The ones no one else could handle.” Eric paused, hesitating. “I don’t think anyone else on the team is as good as you.”

Deeks knew Eric meant it at a compliment, but the thought of pretending to be a drug dealer or trafficker, made him feel slightly nauseous.

“Are you ok?” Eric asked softly.

“Uh, yeah, no. I’m good. It’s just…a lot to take in,” Deeks said, which wasn’t exactly a lie. “Tell me about this next case.”

***

A/N: Yes, I know Eric couldn’t bring Deeks a bunch of files, but we’re going to ignore that like the team ignores the boat shed is supposed to be a secret. Thanks for reading!