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musicfeedsmysoul12 · 4 years ago

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Decagon: The Supportive Hero Chapter 2

Summary: When Izuku finally accepts that Bakugou is not his friend anymore, he ends up collapsing at home. He discovers that he has had a Quirk all along- the ability to bond with others and increase their Quirks. Izuku fully intends to become a hero still, now with a new Quirk by his side. A new school leads him to new friends and new bonds both Quirked and not, plus his mom finding a new husband has his family increasing and the support he needs keeps coming in.

Look out world, here comes Decagon!

On AO3

Pairings: Aizawa Shouta/Midoriya Inko so far. Others TBA

Warnings: Bakugou Faces Consequences. Bakugou critical. But also he ends up getting redeemed like WAY later so… yeah.

Other Tags: Shinsou is Aizawa’s cousin/nephew, Queer Platonic relationships ahead, Izuku has a Quirk.

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The Quirk specialist called in wasn’t the one Dr. Aizawa wanted, but apparently that one was in America for a conference. Instead a tall blue haired woman had been called in.

“Ah, hello. I am Doctor Yamanato Yuki.” she had introduced herself. Apparently her specialization in Quirks were sex based but she also had faimilarity with bonding Quirks.

“Sex Quirks and Bonding Quirks actually are incredibly similar when you break it down,” she had explained to Izuku when the boy had asked in curisotsity. The woman had gone red when he had asked but she had managed to stutter it out. “Sex Quriks often affect other people, much like Bonding Quirks. They affect the same areas of the brain to stimulate the Quirk’s effects on the person. So I learned a lot about them both.”

The testing was a bit boring. He and his mom sat in machines with weird stuff attached to them, and Eraserhead, which he had gotten more excited about after his brain fog cleared up, would activate his Quirk randomly so Dr. Yamanato would observe Izuku’s Quirk in use. He then sat in more machines to scan his head and body.

When they were all done that, Dr. Yamanato also took some blood to test it.

Meanwhile though, Izuku had to stay in the hospital. His body temperature registered still as below average, but rising up. Dr. Yamanato had more theories about that, but she wanted to check first.

Izuku didn’t mind the hospital too much, it meant that he didn’t have to go back to Aldera which he knew would be filled with kids gossiping about him now. His mom told him he didn’t have to go back at all.

“Your Quirk is very special honey, special enough that people would want it. Due to this, we can apply for a fund to move you to a better school where you will be safe.” Inko did not tell her son the risks of kidnapping him were incredibly high, and that he would be sent to the school Dr. Aizawa’s girlfriend’s son went to. Dr. Aizawa had told her a few quiet stories of how his girlfriend’s son had nearly been kidnapped multiple times for his mind control Quirk. She didn’t want to worry her son with that news.

Izuku did know that Bakugou attempted to get to him a few times. He had heard Inko talking about it with the doctor and even a security guard. Apparently Bakugou had come back and tried to force his way into the pediatric ward. The nurses hadn’t let him and he had tried to make them only for them to not only call his parents but the cops.

That had nurses gossiping all day, and Izuku had listened to a few talk about how awful he was and how they didn’t understand how a child could act like that.

Izuku felt a little pleased at that. He shouldn’t be, he knew and felt guilty. However, little boys who were bullied and tormented for years do tend to get glee their abuser faced consequences for their actions or ended up mocked for their attitude.

Or well, anyone would be.

Izuku waited a week for more info, during which he got to know Eraserhead more and more. He apparently also taught at UA, Izuku felt so happy learning that he ended up asking way too many questions. Eraserhead didn’t mind though and answered what he could.

“But what about your classes?” Izuku asked him a day after he being told, suddenly realizing it. “Shouldn’t you be teaching?”

“Nah. I’m the home room teacher for the third year this year and I expelled most of them. I have about five kids in the class and they’re currently doing work studies. I barely see them.” Eraserhead had told him, which sparked a debate on why he expelled most of his students that even Inko weighed in on.

“But if they were skilled enough-”

“It doesn’t matter, I won’t let kids who have no potential go out to either get themselves killed or others killed.”

“But couldn’t they learn?”

“They go to Gen Ed when expelled from my class and I watch them. If they actually show ANY potential and want to do better I will let them back in but otherwise-”

Izuku watched the back and forth of his mother and Eraserhead for a bit, head turning between them. Dr. Aizawa, who had walked in a few minutes before with Dr. Yamanato, also watched. His face looked amused though, confusing Izuku. More so when he told the little boy,

“I think I will be seeing more of you even when you’re gone. I have never seen Shouta look so engaged before.”

That was weird, Izuku thought as Dr. Yamanato caught his mom’s attention.

“Oh! Doctor! Do we have more information?” Inko asked the female doctor who smiled kindly.

“We do.” She got the other two to leave, leaving Izuku, Inko and Dr. Yamanato alone in the room. The doctor sat down in a chair with a clipboard on her lap that she read some notes off of as she spoke.

“Your son’s Quirk from what we found is the ability to form bonds, we know this. He is able to increase a person’s Quirk. Most likely they can either use their Quirk for longer, can aake it stronger somehow or possibly even mutate it depending on what sort of Quirk he has.” the doctor explained. “The bond however, goes both ways. We got permission from the Bakugou family to do some tests on their son. From what we can tell, the bond between Izuku and Katsuki was only half of a bond. It was parasitic in nature. Katsuki would draw upon Izuku but Izuku received nothing back from him.”

“Is that why he was so sickly for so long?” Inko asked.

“Yes. Izuku’s Quirk worked overtime to support the bond with Katsuki and yourself.” Dr. Yamanato explained. “The bond between the two of you is incredibly healthy, but from the bit of the former bond we can find between Katsuki and Izuku it was entirely one sided and drew too much from Izuku. If it had been both ways, Katsuki most likely would have been even stronger and Izuku would have experienced minor side effects of the bond.”

“Side effects,” Inko interrupted the doctor while Izuku reeled from all this information.

He had a Quirk. He had a QUIRK. A really cool one! He could bond with people, make them stronger… suddenly his thoughts went to why he expressed happiness before, when he didn’t have to go to school. His stomach dropped like a stone.

People would only want to be his friend because of it.

“What sort of side effects?” Inko asked the doctor, unaware of her son’s slowly worsening mood.

“Well from what we can tell from some of our physical tests, the bond with Katsuki did cause him to be sickly but the bond with you is altering his body a bit.” The doctor explained. That drew their attention, Izuku even pulled from his thoughts.

“How so?” Inko asked, voice as calm as possible so she didn’t freak Izuku out.

“He’s more…” the doctor looked thoughtful, trying to find the right word before huffing. “He’s much lighter than most boys his age. I believe it relates to your Quirk. Pulling small objects towards yourself- Izuku has made himself lighter. It may also play into why he does have a hard time keeping to a healthy weight.”

“Is there anything I can do?” Inko worried, a hand going to rest on her son’s shoulder. Izuku himself felt nervous.

“I’m no dietician. I would suggest swapping to a heavier diet for him and focus on muscle building rather than fat building, but that’s not my specialty.” Dr. Yamanato told Inko. “The broken bond between Izuku and Katsuki as well is what is causing him to be so cold as well.”

“Bakugou has explosions as his Quirk, was he making me warm?” Izuku asked the doctor who shrugged in answer.

“Possibly. Or it could simply be the shock from suddenly breaking a bond. It isn’t life threatening as you know but you will need warmer clothes from now on.” Dr. Yamanato told them. “Now, we did get a brain scan done and we think we see… the term I guess would be ports…” the doctor frowned and then shrugged, seemingly satisfied with her word choice. “Ports where more bonds could form. We counted ten. This number though is not a hundred percent accurate though, so be warned you might not be able to bond with ten or might be able to bond with more than ten.”

“... Is there anything else? How do I bond with people? What sort of bonds? Are they all like family bonds?” Izuku asked. Dr. Yamanto blinked owlishly before she smiled at him.

“Well, you’re eager to learn. From what we think happened with your mother and Katsuki, we think the bond had to be mutual with both of you wishing to be bonded.” Dr. Yamanato said. She used the clipboard she had on her lap to sketch out two stick figures with two arrows between them, going from one figure to another. “The bond requires mutual affection. Now, this affection can be good affection or… bad affection.”

“Bad affection?” Izuku asked, his mind whirling.

“Sometimes people like to pick on and be mean to others.” Dr. Yamanato explained. “This is cruel behaviour and bad affection. They do feel something for their victim but it isn’t affection such as your mother feels for you as her son.” She drew two more stick figures with two arrows between them, one broken. “However, once the bond is formed, then even if the person who is bonded to you breaks the bond, the bond continues until you break it yourself. At least, that is our theory.” Dr. Yamanato shrugged. “Quirk Science is half the time us screaming at one another and the other half threatening each other, I won’t lie.”

“I read an article saying Quirk Science is twenty percent guessing, forty percent chance, thirty percent sheer luck and ten percent drinking.” Izuku said with a grin.

Dr. Yamanato cackled.

“You got it in one kid.” She handed Izuku the notes she had taken, and then handed Inko a card. “That is my number. Now, I would like to step outside with your mother to discuss adult things if that’s okay?”

Izuku figured that meant it would be stuff his mom felt to scary for him but would tell him later if she felt it was needed. He agreed and the two women stepped out.

Outside the room, Eraserhead waited for them.

“Doctor, Mrs. Midoriya.” He greeted both of them.

“Ah good Eraser, are you the assigned hero?” Dr. Yamanato asked him. He nodded as Inko blinked in confusion. “Perfect. Now, Mrs. Midoriya,” Dr. Yamanato turned to her. “You understand that due to the nature of your son’s Quirk you are being offered the help moving him to a new school?”

“Ah, yes. Dr. Aizawa said that his girlfriend’s son goes there? His Quirk is something people might want?” Inko did not want to think about her son being kidnapped but it was a very really fear with his Quirk. If a villain got a hold of him and managed to bond with him… it could be disastrous.

“Correct. Now- I’m going to be completely honest. As soon as we place this information into the system anyone with even the slightest ability to check out the database will see it.” Dr. Yamanato said bluntly. “Any Quirk that benefits anyone will be of interest. This means you will be harassed by pro heroes, government agents or researchers who want to use your son for their own gain.”

“... what?” Inko asked shakily.

“It’s common,” Eraserhead said honestly. “Any Quirk deemed useful gets looks and greed. The fact it’s a bonding Quirk that increases other Quirks…”

“Frankly I would bet on Endeavour visiting at least. The man is a power hungry asshole,” Dr. Yamanato said, shrugging at their looks. “My wife has the ability to create children using any genetics from either parents.” The doctor glanced around and lowered her voice. “No one knows but she’s able to pick Quirks to.” That got startled looks from the other two. “She keeps it undocumented for her own safety. That gets out, she will be in dire risk. She managed to word her Quirk profile just right that she’s not lying either. However, Endeavour found out. I don’t know how and he forced her to give him a son with his and his wife’s Quirks.”

“Oh god,” Inko said. Dr. Yamanato nodded.

“Exactly. So be warned. I have some drafts of vague ways to word his Quirk description.” She handed said drafts to Inko and then bowed. “I must be off but take care of yourselves.” She lefts, leaving Inko and Aizawa.

“This… this is going to be hard.” Inko said to herself, clutching the note tightly. She had been aware the reason the government would pay for her son to go a new school with better security was because his Quirk could be dangerous in the wrong hands. She had heard of some of the kids who went there during her research of the school. Kids with healing Quirks that could heal almost any wound, kids who could copy other Quirks, kids with Quirks that released deadly gasses… and now her son would need to go to it because of the risk of a villain bonding with him…

“You’ll be fine.” Eraserhead said. He reached out to awkwardly pat her arm. “I’ll be here to help out for a bit if needed and I’ll make random visits until they decide the risk is over. I’ll help protect him.”

Inko smiled at the man, relief flooding through her. She would not be alone. She didn’t have to do this by herself. Not anymore. Even if it only lasted a little while, she had someone with her.

She could do it.

-0-

“The power of the blasts lowered by 200% after the bond broke,” casually remarked Dr. Yamanato as she looked over the results of the youngest Bakugou.

“What?!?” Katsuki screeched and Dr. Yamanato ignored him, facing his parents.

“It looks like the bonding Quirk was very effective in boosting his Quirk. Thank you for letting me use his Quirk as a way to calculate how much Midoriya’s Quirk could boost another.”

“Of course,” Mitsuki said woodenly as she stared at her furious son. Masaru remained silent, staring at him as well. Dr. Yamanato, sensing that they needed to talk, quietly left.

“This isn’t fucking fair! It’s bullshit-“ Katsuki ranted right before his father spoke, cutting him off.

“Katsuki it is fair. From the sounds of it your actions were deplorable.” Masaru wondered where they had gone wrong. How their prideful son had become so arrogant.

“I am disgusted with you,” Mitsuki said bluntly. Katsuki flinched. Usually his mother would scream that, rage it. But instead she just said it softly, calmly. “I never thought I’d raise a thug like my own father. I’d hoped for better then that.”

“I’m no thug! I’m going to be a hero!” Katsuki roared.

“Not with your current attitude, and it looks like you’re back to square one.” His father said, motioning to how his son’s hands were slightly sparking but only creating small crackles and not the usually soft booms when he lost his temper. “Your actions have consequences Katsuki. We thought the school here would give you them but from our conversation with them, they aren’t.” The two adults traded looks.

They had spoken to the school and found that the entire system was rotten. They praised Katsuki and promised to ‘convince Izu-kun to get over himself and bond again’ stating their son’s skill and power meant he would be a hero. They were horrified at the way the school talked about Izuku like a thing their son could use, not even a person.

“You won’t be going back there.” Mitsuki said.

“What?!?” Katsuki yelled. “But it’s perfect for my-“

“Your hero origin story?!?” Mitsuki snapped. “That utter fucking bullshit you seem to adore sprouting? Here’s the thing Katsuki, you DO NOT have that sort of origin story. You’re talking about an underdog story. Newsflash, you’re not!”

“Your mother and I make good money, you have good health, you only go to that school because we thought you wanted to be with who we thought was your friend,” Masaru began listing. “We paid for the best Quirk Counselors we could, we always made sure you were healthy and happy, and again, we have money.”

“You’re no underdog. You’re the bully in a hero story, the privileged asshole the underdog takes down.” Mitsuki said cruelly. She would feel terrible later, but right then she didn’t care. “I’d say Izuku went through his origin story while at that school, not you.”

“You will not be going back there, and…” Masaru hesitated. Katsuki already was being punished. He would lose his hero origin story fantasy, he had lost a lot of the power of his Quirk. He would have to make friends in a new school, a school Mitsuki picked out dust to them being very stern on bullying.

What else could they punish him with? Taking away his Quirk gym privileges seemed to cruel after he would need to build his Quirk up again. Taking away his video games didn’t seem enough.

“You won’t be going to Hero Con for the next two years.” Mitsuki said. Every year they would take him to see all the merch, year all about heroes and just have fun. Izuku always went with them to. They would still offer the tickets as always to Izuku on his birthday but wouldn’t go or go with Katsuki.

A fitting punishment in her eyes. Katsuki loved Hero Con but the event occurred once a year and wouldn’t affect him to greatly on top of everything else he went through.

“WHAT?!? AREN’T I BEING PUNISHED ENOUGH?!” Katsuki screamed.

“For years of bullying and tormenting? No.” Mitsuki told him. “My father is in jail for his actions. I don’t want to see my son follow his footsteps.”

That quieted Katsuki and the adults took their son home hoping he was thinking and reflecting on his actions. They find that’s much hope though.

For Katsuki he was plotting. Okay, fine he wouldn’t go to Aldera anymore. But the nerd still lived around him and went to the park. Fingers and Wings also would still go to Aldera. He’d have access to Deku again, he would force him to rebond with him.

He would be a hero, and nothing would change that. He refused to let his origin story die like that. He wouldn’t!

Hearing his parents talk about visiting the Midoriyas to make him apologize he changed his plan. Apologize and then rebond with the nerd. Deku could never stay away from him, the fact he had gotten so upset would easily be brushed off as Katsuki going to far only once. It would all end up fine!

He would apologize and things would go back to normal. Deku would tell them to let him stay at Aldera. He would get his hero origin back, be the next great hero. With Deku along he guessed but the freak could be a sidekick in his agency he supposed. Providing him with strength on top of his own greatness to beat All Might and be the next number one!

Heading to the stupid nerd’s house, he plotted how it would go. An apology, then Deku forgiving him. Deku would offer to rebond, after apologizing himself for being an asshole and breaking the bond, risking his future.

They walked up to the apartment, and Katsuki sneered as his mother grabbed his shoulder.

“We’re going to say sorry and then leave.” she told him bluntly. “Nothing else.”

“Or your punishment will be worse,” Masaru promised his son, causing Katsuki to stare at him in shock for the dark tone. He had never heard his father use that before.

Mitsuki rang the bell and waited. Inko opened the door, face blank.

Katsuki felt some regret seeing Inko. He once called her Auntie Inko and she would bake cookies and give him and Deku treats. He used to like her a lot more then his own mom until his parents sat him down and explained why they didn’t speak to their parents, why he didn’t have grandparents like other kids did.

Learning how fucked up his parents’ childhoods were had him appreciating them way more as a nine-year-old. And made him think they were the most badass parents ever. His dad taking down his villain dad by walking right into a freaking police station? His mom stealing all the valuables in the house and running? Epic.

Stand there, looking at Auntie Inko and feeling those feelings again though made him feel small. Bad. Dirty.

He ignored it. Deku was a fucking weakling who wouldn’t get far in the future, no matter his Quirk. It was just a bonding Quirk after all. Katsuki would be the future number one hero. Deku was lucky to be part of his story.

“Yes?” Inko asked the Bakugou family.

“We would like to apologize to Izuku.” Mitsuki said, bluntly. Inko simply watched them a bit longer.

“We were just released today, we asked that the results from the tests Dr. Yamanato had done would be give to you after we left.” Inko said after a moment.

Katsuki didn’t move. He’d figured that the fucking hospital had been working against him, after he had gotten the police called on him for trying to see Deku earlier. He had been so angry then, he wanted Deku to take back his lies, or what he had thought were lies.

It took him using his Quirk over and over again to figure out the truth. Deku had increased his Quirk strength. By a lot.

He was still awesome, he wasn’t back to square one like his dad said. However he couldn’t do the same amount of damage as he could before. It infuriated him and he needed Deku to rebond with him.

“We’re aware but we want to apologize to him.” Masaru explained. Inko looked them over for a bit longer before she sighed.

“Wait here-” she began but a dark haired man appeared, looking tired.

“I’ll ask him. If he doesn’t want to meet you, would you be okay sending an apology letter?” the man asked.

“Of course,” Masaru said, bowing his head.

Katsuki knew Deku would come to the door. He never could stay away from Bakugou.

The man came back, and shook his head.

“He said an apology letter would work best for now,” the man began but Katsuki stopped paying attention.

What? The nerd refused to see him?!

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” Katsuki screamed. “I’m fucking apologizig and the little shit won’t fucking-” his hands crackled with energy and he yanked himself from his mother’s grasp to step forward when his hands went cold and a scarf wrapped around him, holding him there.

“Do not take another step.” said the man coldly. His eyes had turned from dark brown to red, and his hair floated above his head, the scarf he had been wearing wrapped around Katsuki. “I’m the pro-hero Eraserhead, assigned to watch over the Midoriya family. Your actions of trying to force yourself into situations is not welcome here.”

Mitsuki grabbed her son, yanking him back.

“We’re sorry for his actions,” she bowed, forcing Katsuki to do so as well before she pulled him away from the apartment as Masaru spoke to Inko for longer. Mitsuki dragged her son to the stairwell, the boy in shock from losing his Quirk so suddenly still. “I cannot fucking beleive you!” she snapped. “That was the most disrespectful fucking thing I have seen yet from you, and apparently I haven’t seen everything.” she glared at her son, anger burning deep in her eyes.

“Deku-” Katsuki tried but Mitsuki glared at him, silencing him.

“Not another damn word.”

Mitsuki dragged her son down the stairs and to the car, unaware that part of his world view was shattering.

Deku… Deku didn’t want to see him. Deku refused to. Deku wanted a damn letter and not him in person.

Katsuki bared his teeth. Fuck that. Deku would understand where he belonged- under his feet, providing him with power for his future career.

He would make Deku rebond with him, and he would not take no for an answer!!

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You know, it occurred to me as I wrote this that Bakugou might claim that Izuku did not help him at all and the bond was completely fake. I tossed the idea around a bit but decided to leave it as Bakugou wanting Izuku to rebond with him. I felt that while Bakugou is a narcissistic egotistical brat, he also most likely would want the bond with Izuku to be more powerful. The punishment from his parents is something I feel makes sense. 1- the school was a large part in why Bakugou is the way he is. I mean, he was always a little shit as we can tell from flashbacks where BEFORE Izuku was declared Quirkless. The Deku name came before, Izuku was picked on by Bakugou before and more. However, the school did not help by praising him and saying he was going to be great. As well, excusing his actions against Izuku was bad. 2- Removing Bakugou from the school also robbed him of his ‘hero origin’ which you know was FAKE AS FUCK because Bakugou is not an underdog. Rising from a bad school only works if you’re also from a lower income and Bakugou really isn’t. 3- I don’t believe in punishments that are like: we take away everything you love and enjoy. It does nothing and is actually damaging. As well, as Mitsuki and Masaru come from bad families they also worry about being to harsh. So, change his school and also restrict him from Hero Con for a few years. A good punishment-more so since he will be sent to a strict school where his bullying behaviour is not allowed. Other notes: -I have six bonds including Inko for Izuku planned. Suggestions welcome but might not be listened to. -Dr. Yamanato is a character from another fic- my Omega Quirk one. I didn’t want to make another Quirk specialist character so I just reused her. Honestly I’ll probably keep reusing her because hey- ready made Quirk specialist here. -The Endeavour thing is more of a warning to Inko then a real plot point. If Aizawa follows it up I doubt I’ll focus to much on it. -Izuku’s low body temperature and light weight will be brought up often. This is solely to combat the trope where a medical condition is only brought up for plot. It won’t here. -This actually isn’t the full of Izuku’s Quirk. That will take way more time, effort and experimentation to figure out. -The reason Bakugou got such a big part of this chapter was for future plotting reasons. I don’t like… actually plot ahead much. I usually know the gist of what I want, and one thing I do know is Bakugou is a minor antagonist for a portion of this fic. Then he gets his redemption. As well, this chapter is more: Here is Izuku’s Quirk mixed with some plot so it’s not to info dumpy? -Inko is able to pull bigger objects now, she just has never tried because she doesn’t need to pull larger objects. -Japanese culture puts a lot of stock in apologizing and harmony. (Makes me wonder why Bakugou would be allowed to run around like that so much…) Hence why the Bakugou parents insisted on apologizing. (Oddly enough this makes me realize even more the ‘our son’s fault for being kidnapped’ thing is really a mistranslation/cultural thing where it isn’t meant like that at all based on my research) -I was told I use a lot of passive verbs so I tried not to here.

#bnha #bnha au #decagon #izuku has a quirk #Bakugou critical #dadzawa #more world building then plot #but plot

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letsjasmineanna-blog · 6 years ago

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walker-journal · 4 years ago

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The Versipellis of the 7/11 (Adam + Kaden)

Characters: Kaden Langley (Hunter-Liz), Adam Walker (Hunter-Tapir)

Summary: Kaden and Adam go to a canabalistic crime scene and find themselves tracking down a familiar foe.

Content Warnings: Gun Use, Head Trauma

Lycanthropy and all its permutations wasn’t Adam Walker’s specialty. However Versipellis curse was something he had personal experience with. Adam had to force those memories down as he examined the cashier’s body, the man unrecognizable after being mostly cannibalized. The bite marks on his body resembled those of a human mouth in some places, but the size and jaw structure distended as the curse had taken hold of the perpetrator, twisting them into something that’d eventually chomped this guy’s head in half like a pumpkin gourd.

Adam began the morbid task of rifling through the victim’s possessions, constructing guesses from clues and what he already knew. The Hunter’s gloved fingers flipped through bloodstained debit cards and receipts in what was left of the guy’s wallet. Crisp electronic clicks began as Adam rubbed enough dark gore off a smartphone to sift through photos of family and the most recent texts.

It seemed like a form of desecration to so casually paw through a person’s life before their corpse had even cooled. Adam wasn’t a naturally nosy dude and felt only a cold pit in his stomach as he scrutinized this window into the everyday complexity of someone else’s personhood. But they didn’t have time to spare, and Adam had been conditioned to suppress any squicky sentimentality that might interfere with the mission.

“Our victim is Michael P. Brewer, thirty six year old man, five feet and nine inches, one hundred and forty three pounds,” Adam rattled off with militaristic dispassion as he knelt over what was left of the body. “He was about to get off shift, but his replacement attacked while he was busy with the punch card. The bites began at the neck until the perpetrator’s increasing bulk forced Michael to the floor, where he was eaten alive. He is survived by his wife: Crow Brewer,” he finished.

“The likely perp is Tammy L. Killian, twenty nine year old woman, black hair, about five-six from this photo,” Adam held up a screenshot from Michael’s phone where the now intact man stood smiling next to his coworker at a union meeting. “She was texting Michael about wanting to come in for her shift despite suffering a bite from a wild animal that ate her dog last night.”

Adam looked up at the more experienced Hunter. “What’s the call Langley?”

When Kaden got the call from Walker about a body in the convenience store, he didn’t hesitate. As much as hunting gave him pause recently, he wouldn’t leave the kid hanging. Even if he had to squash the voice in the back of his head telling him to call it in to the authorities. Didn’t last long. Not when he heard the basics of the situation. This was stained with supernatural shit, no doubt.

The first thing he did when they walked in, after placing the police tape to keep out any one else who might wander by, was head straight for the security cameras. Technology was far from his strong suit, but years of keeping the supernatural secret (and keeping himself out of prison) was enough for him to learn a few tricks here and there how to destroy evidence. Lucky for them, the whole setup was far from complicated. Kaden ripped the cameras out of the corners of the place and slammed them to the ground before giving them a good stomp with his boot for good measure. He reached behind the counter and gave the CCTV screen there and the box attached to it the same treatment.

By the time he was done, Walker was already halfway through rifling the victim's belongings. There were times Kaden regretted getting involved with law enforcement. Times like now, when he had that nagging feeling that he was going against his duty as WCPD. Examining the body before even considering reporting it. Still, his duty to the hunter’s codes went back far longer than any job and would endure long past that. Of course. Well, unless he-- That didn’t matter. The point was he was a hunter first. It was in his blood, he couldn’t walk away from his genetics even if he wanted to. He didn’t have to ask for details, Walker was good at delving them out as he went.

“Bite from a wild animal, huh?” Kaden huffed out a laugh. They both knew damn well what that meant. “You said you thought this was a versipellis case,” he stated, leaning down to get a better look at the body. He’d seen injuries like this before. Unfortunately. “Gotta agree.”

He stood up, cracked his knuckles and glanced back over his shoulder. No sign of anyone approaching. Good. Kaden turned back and gave Walker his answer. “We find the monster. We kill the monster.” There was no gesture or further explanation. Kaden started walking, following the trail of destruction. “Looks like it burst out the back,” he added, heading through what was left of the back door. Maybe they had a shot of catching up with the beast before it found another victim. He didn’t want to call Michael P. Brewer lucky but death was preferable to being turned by a versipellis of all things.

“There was a Verispellis case earlier that turned a selkie feral,” supplied Adam as he followed Kaden out the back door. That was the danger of the Turnskin. A single bite could lead to a domino effect of secondary infections and people devoured alive. Kinna like a zombie but with some giant doggo skinbursting as a treat.

“However the infection ran its course in that selkie without the transformation taking hold and he’s been stable since,” continued Adam, making an effort to keep his voice professionally neutral, as if David Herring were simply just a witness to a case. The rational part of Adam knew that Kaden probably wouldn’t have a problem with his noodling partner, considering who Regan was. However, the reflex towards covering his ass so was automatic that Adam didn’t even realize how he was speaking until the words were out of his mouth.

Adam looked around the alley culdesac they’d walked into, Brick walls surrounded them on three sides laden with cardboard debris and dumpsters. The Hunter’s eyes scanned past the refuse to fix on long white claw marks that'd been gouged one far of the brick walls as if the back legs of something huge had clambered up side after a leap.

“There over that wall,” Adam noted, already in the process of performing a running vault that carried him onto a dumpster and then onto the wall.

“It bit a selkie?” Kaden’s brows furrowed as he glanced back at the other hunter. There were a lot of questions there. First off, how Walker knew a selkie, which one, why he didn’t take care of said selkie while feral, how he knew any of this, if this was connected to the case Rio mentioned. Before he could decide where to begin, Walker at least allayed some of his concerns. Only some of them. “You’re sure he’s not going to turn?” In the end, that was the only question that mattered, right? He wasn’t sure a selkie could turn, but he’d seen weirder shit. “Guess I’ll have to trust you, Walker,” he answered just as flatly as the other hunter had in turn. It was strange how easily it could all come flooding back every time, the harshness, the simplicity of it all. There was a right and there was a wrong and nothing else in between. And no time for emotions or questions like the ones clawing to the forefront of his mind just then.

Kaden followed what he could see of the trail of destruction into the alleyway with Walker. Sure looked right to him, onto the dumpster and over the wall it was. He gave a curt nod and was about to check the lid of said dumpster when Adam took off. “Putain,” he muttered to himself, huffing a sigh before pulling himself onto it and hopping up to the wall. Not about to run and vault if he could avoid it. He wasn’t as old as Oscar yet but he sure as hell wasn’t about to show off for no goddamn reason.

He surveyed the scene ahead of him, looking for any more signs or clues. The crushed trash cans strewn about the streets leading to a busted fence seemed like the right answer. Kaden waved the other hunter on and followed the destruction towards what looked like a construction site. A new building, an old building, hard to say in this town. Nothing lasted too long, not when there were monsters crawling out of every crack and crevice. Kaden held his breath and tried to listen deep. He didn’t hear much beyond the wind rattling the unsteady beams and scaffolds, but he could feel the pin pricks along his spine signifying that some sort of lycanthrope was nearby. Whether it was the one they were looking for, that was a different question entirely. “I think it might be cl--” A creak and a scraping of metal came from above. Kaden didn’t need to look up to know the growling was coming from the same direction. Shit. Guess they found it alright.

Adam ran over to a figure crumbled amongst the cinderblocks. He dusted off a man in his late twenties whose red hair was greyed the construction site’s powdery rubble. Adam checked for a pulse and began cardiac compressions and mouth to mouth resuscitation.

Adam’s humanitarian concerns had drawn him farther into the construction site than Kaden. Evening’s amber light was broken by the skeletal silhouette of scaffolding and rebar, casting bars of shadow across the younger Adam as he attended to merciful procedure without enough care for his own surroundings.

A gagging cough signaled that Adam had been successful, and the Hunter helped his charge into a sitting position on one of the larger cinder-blocks. “Its Aaron Osheen,” Adam explained. “One of Killian’s coworkers...aw shit.” It was then that Adam got a better look at his rescuee, including the deep well of blood on Aaron’s calf. “Hey uh Langley we got a bite here…” However this thought was cut off as metal screeching and growling descended from above.

Kaden’s eyes were scanning along the scaffolds for any signs of claws and fangs. He saw a flash of motion somewhere in the distance when Walker called out to him. His attention shot around to see the other hunter standing over a victim. “How bad does it loo-- a bite?” Before Kaden could utter a single French curse word let alone the slew of them he had planned, a monster leapt out from the metal tower towards them.

He raised the gun in his hand and let the shots fly towards the beast, bangs ringing out in empty site. One hit. Enough to slow it, not enough to stop it. Kaden shot again, out of rounds. It closed in and reloading wasn’t an option. He reached for his knife and threw himself to the side of the versipellis, slashing at its flank. It whipped around and he could feel its hot breath hanging in the air. Which meant the fangs were close enough to snap his arm in two. It swiped with its claws and Kaden rushed to its side again. Not fast enough to miss the talons sinking into his skin. But enough to give him the space to pull himself up the beams nearby. If he could get a vertical angle he’d have the advantage. He just needed Walker to hold his ground.

Adam unslung his machete and did a pull-up on one of the hanging rebar poles. He performed a gymnast’s swing up onto what would eventually be this building’s second floor and faced the enormous wolf that was still covered in gore from tearing up a 7/11. As with many lycanthropes, ‘wolf’ was a crude generalization for the quadrupedal goliath of muscle and unnaturally proportioned limbs before him. It was far bigger than the largest kodiak bears and yet leapt from scaffolding and cinderblocks with a grace that was truly disconcerting in something that huge.

Adam moved to flank the thing trying to claw up Kaden, bringing his machete down in a two-handed slice down one of the versipellis’ back legs, mutant strength leveraging the blade straight through solid muscle. A howling whine of pain rewarded the raw aggression, and Adam succeeded in gaining the giant lycanthrope’s attention. He readied himself to be an elusive target while Kaden closed in for the kill from behind.

But pain lanced up his leg and Adam stumbled to one knee as something jerked his other leg off the scaffolding from below.

In a critical second of distraction, Adam glanced down into the bloodshot eyes of Aaron Osheen. The cashier has sunk his teeth into Adam’s leg, foaming spittle mixing with the Hunter’s blood. Aaron has clambered after Adam in a cursed frenzy, frantically trying to drag him down to the second floor to devour.

Kaden scrambled onto the ledge and reached for his second gun. His hand was around the handle, aimed, ready to let loose on the snarling beast below when he saw Walker dragged off to the side. Shit. The victim wasn’t a victim anymore. He turned his aim towards the other hunter and the cashier, thought about picking off a shot but it was too risky. There was no way to tell limb from limb. On top of that, the mass of fur, mange, and gore leapt up, clawing at the beams in front of him. Putain.

Kaden’s eyes darted and saw a platform across the way and sprinted. Hope this works. He threw himself across to the next patch of construction. He knew the monster could clear the space between them with ease but he’d made enough time to reload, fire a few more bullets into the lycan. The squeals and screams were a pretty good indication they hit, slow it, but it wasn’t down. And it was jumping to where Kaden was standing. He braced himself for impact as the claws came towards him. He knew he shouldn’t have closed his eyes, but some instincts were too hard to fight. He expected to feel sharp scratches of pain. Instead, gravity was giving way below them both. Fuck.

Adam watched Kaden and the wolf plummet down to the rubble of the first story in a tide wave of wood splitters and bent rebar. “Damn it.” He hadn’t been fast enough to grab Kaden out of the way, the civilian gnawing on his leg. Adam gritted his teeth and lifted both his leg and Aaron Osheen onto the second story with him. Fitting back rage at the feeling of his own flesh ripping in the cursed human’s teeth, Adam steadied his breathing. He needed to get Aaron off himself without pulverising the normie to death with too much force.

Adam let in one purposeful inhale, exhaled, and brought together both his hands on either side of Aaron’s temples, boxing his ears. Even holding back, the blow disoriented Aaron enough to release his jaw.

Adam hefted the concussed coughing guy off of him, tensed his abdomen, and flipped back up to his feet in one acrobatic movement. He looked down at where Kaden and the Versipellis had fallen, fastening his machete and drawing a silvered combat knife. Adam stood a running start before leaping down one store onto the Lycanthrope’s back from above, plunging the silver knife down into the beast.

Kaden gasped for some of the air that was knocked from his lungs when his back slammed on the ground. Walker bought him a second to reach for his-- Fuck. Kaden went to wrap his fist around his gun to find nothing but wood chips in his hand. Weight pressed onto him and teeth flashed towards his flesh. He reached out and clambered for the first thing he could get his hands on. His fingers gripped the cold metal and he swung it at the beast’s head. Spit sprayed across the hunter’s face, but his jugular was still intact.

The wolf flinched, barely stunned, but Kaden pushed himself away, kicking his way out of the rubble. Gun was nowhere to be seen. He grabbed the small silver knife in his pocket. Not the best weapon, but it was the closest on hand. The monster had spun its attention to the hunter on its back, its claw reaching up to grab the younger hunter. No. Not today. Kaden thrust the small blade down through the monster’s foot, pinning it in place as it yowled in pain. Wouldn’t last. Was far from lethal. But he needed to buy time to bring out Last Chance.

Adam found himself in the precarious bucking bronco position of riding a Versipellis. He raised up the bloody silver knife to plunge it in again in search of a vital organ, but soon he was much more focused on trying not to be clawed off the lycanthrope’s back. Well aware that being dragged under the werewolf would likely end with his innards being raked out in seconds, Adam held on for dear life as he swung his leg narrowly out of the way of the annoyed wolf’s scratching claws.

Grabbing for any handhold as his world became a thrashing roller coaster, Adam’s every muscle was taut as he held onto to his grip and his lunch. Red-rimmed blackness closed in on the edge of his vision as an increasingly frantic swipe from the werewolf found purchase on his ribs. Adam had to shift his weight to the other side of the beast’s back to avoid being dragged down. Blood from his gouged side mingled with the puncture wounds he’d driven in the werewolf’s back, and Adam’s grip began to slip from the sheer amount of blood slickening everything.

Gritting his teeth Adam risked a one-armed hold around the werewolf’s massive neck to draw his silver knife again. He began to stab the blade into the Versipellis’ throat towards the jugular and…

Everything vanished in blackness and pain.

Adam’s ears rang with dull concussed clamor as he blearily opened his eyes. Blood ran down the back of his neck from where the Versipellis had ended the annoyance stabbing it from behind by intentionally ramming itself backwards into a cinderblock wall. Adam coughed and gagged up dark bile from internal wounds. He tried to summon the will to stand, and had gotten halfway to his feet and something slammed him down again.

Adam looked blearily up into the panting face of Aaron Osheen as the infected human opened his foaming mouth to bite down on the fallen hunter’s shoulder.

Kaden’s knife wasn’t in hand in time to stop the versipellis from throwing Walker across the crumbled construction like a ragdoll. His knuckles went white around the handle, his jaw clenched, and his heart pounding in his eardrums as he charged at the wolf. It made its move first, going straight for his shoulder. Kaden ducked to the right, the monster's momentum pulled him forward and it crashed into a support beam. Which might have been a good move. If a few dozen planks of wood didn’t come spilling down from above them. He covered his head, dove away but he got slapped around all the same.

The versipellis pivoted, pushed itself off the beam and pinned the hunter to ground. This time, Kaden was ready. Or he thought he was ready. He had his knife this time. But the monster sunk its claws into his shoulders, shoving him across the wooden beams, splinters digging into his back as he scraped across the lumber. Fangs found their way towards Kaden’s flesh. The hunter kicked and used every ounce of strength he had to brace against the beast with his arms.

Pain seared into his forearm as teeth pulled at his skin, tearing at it, shredding him. If he screamed or howled at the pain, Kaden didn’t know, couldn’t remember. All his focus, everything was on the knife. Bringing it down, digging it directly into its neck. Pushing it just a little farther and twisting it for good measure.

He felt the jaws around him loosen up and Kaden shoved the monster off of him. It was fading. Not fast enough. Kaden pushed himself up, was just about to lunge back at the wolf when he heard a different sort of growl from behind him.

His gaze shot to Aaron. And Adam. The versipellis was dying. He wasn’t about to let a hunter die, too. Kaden sprinted over to them, stumbling over the mess of beams and debris, and reached to grab Aaron by his collar and yank him back.

Adam staggered to his feet, covered in blood and dust. He leaned against a pillar of riveted steel for support as everything swam with dark spots and white flares. The younger Hunter looked from the dying wolf to the still frothing Aaron. “Thanks man,” he managed to gasp to Kaden. “We’ll need to get this dude in confinement till…”

Adam saw the Verspellis lunge forward, mad with lethal pain. The wounded lycanthrope rushed towards them, a frenzied juggernaut of bleeding muscle. “Kade! Heads up!”

The pain was starting to settle in and the adrenaline was waning. Kaden had the cashier by the collar and was more or less contained, Walker was still breathing, and the versipellis was--

Kaden turned to see the wolf tunneling towards him. Aaron was tossed aside with as much care as the hunter could manage. Sharp claws and fangs lunged at him. Kaden inhaled, braced for the pain, and threw himself at the monster. It tripped back. Kaden jammed his silver blade into the versipellis’ chest. Gravity took hold once again. This time it was the monster that gave way, falling back to the ground with a shrieking whine. The hunter pulled the blade down and out of the beast’s chest. All that was left was the twitching as the fight left its body and the light left its eyes.

Kaden wanted to collapse. Maybe catch his breath. Give the injuries a one over. But they weren’t done. Not yet. He pushed his blood covered body off the dead beast and turned his attention back to the cashier. “Got any ideas?” he asked as he reached to contain Aaron once more.

“I’ve got a bunker made from a buried cargo container,” noted Adam as he leaned against the steel pillar. It wasn’t exactly the most glorious hideout, but it sufficed for having a discreet place to store things. “There’s plenty of MREs and water in there. Aaron can be locked in there till the curse wears off?”

Adam staggered over to the downed wolf. Death didn’t do much to make the giant predator less intimidating, or easier to get the hell out of here. Everything hurt, but that wasn’t any excuse to just leave paranormal evidence out in the open. “I can bring the truck around and we can load it under a tarp?” “Hey Langley,” Adam turned his bruise-covered face to Kaden. “Thank you, like seriously, you saved my ass back there.”

Kaden’s brows furrowed. “You’ve got a what?” Aaron tried to pull away and break from his grasp. Kaden focused back on the cashier and considered knocking him out. Might make things easier. Shit, was it ethical? Aaron lunged again and that settled it. Kaden struck at the cashier’s neck at a pressure point, catching the body as he fell unconscious and setting him down. If nothing else, gave them time to tie him up to get him to that bunker.

“Sounds good.” Kaden sighed looking over at the dead versipellis. It was a lot easier when this happened in the woods. Leaving monsters there was never an issue. Concern creased into his forehead as he looked back at Walker. “You think you can make it?” Kaden asked. He was pretty badly hurt. Sure, nothing new for the likes of them but it wasn’t pretty regardless.

“Don’t mention it, Walker,” Kaden replied, offering as much of a smile as he could manage, finally feeling the weariness wash over him. “You saved mine a few times there, too. And I wasn’t about to let you die out there.”

Adam grinned, a sunbeam amidst bruises and blood. “I’ll make it Kade. Here, help me get this mega-furry in the truck.”

#kaden #adam #versipellis #versipellis of the 7/11 #chatzy #gun use tw #head trauma tw

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botanyshitposts · 5 years ago

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Hi! Given that we're all in quarantine mode, what is your favorite houseplant? Also, do you have anything fun and plant themed to pass the time at home (since you seem like you spend like 70% of your time at your uni/in the lab, and I'm sure both of those are shut down now)?

actually, the seed lab is still up and running!! what happened was that my uni cancelled classes and ordered everyone to evacuate the dorms, and only let people stay who had nowhere else to go, which immediately forces like, 80% of us student workers (who handle a LOT of the menial labor on campus) back to our hometowns. from a quarantine perspective i see how this is a smart move, but from a seed perspective i am terrified and in awe; so far, a week in, it’s kind of prompted me to start reevaluating what this means for like, how plants interact in our society on a broader scale, ngl.

like, this is a seed lab, funded partially by the state and partially by the (public) university. it is based in iowa, as i have mentioned before, which is one of the largest producers of maize in the world; 95% of our state is farmland, and it is completely possible to go to another country overseas and purchase feed made from iowa field corn. for further context, sweet corn is grown in iowa, but is deemed a ‘specialty crop’ (along with popcorn) due to the specialised labor needed to harvest it, and the bulk of it sold in grocery stores is grown in california (where a ton of wild botanical stuff seems to happen on a regular basis). most of what’s grown in iowa is field corn, which in turn is used for cattle feed (biggest use), ethanol, and production of more seed. i learned in a class about world food security last year that iowa produces so much food, in the form of animal production as well as corn and soybean production, that if you were to put a glass dome over us we could theoretically produce food sustainably for the entire population without altering our average consumption rate at all.

farmers in the midwest and iowa often own their own land, due to the homestead act back in 1862; compare this system to the agricultural systems in third world countries, where single wealthy people own huge swaths of farmland and equipment that they then pay workers as small a wage as possible to farm it for them. personally i think there’s something to be said about how corporations in the US have driven prices of equipment up so high that farmers are having to resort to renting it, putting them in debt to large companies, which is REALLY just :eyes:, but that aside, farmers who own their own land and equipment tend to work harder and produce larger yields; this is actually a trend throughout the world that the US benefits from due to how the land is historically dispersed.

BUT. going back to the entire reason i’m writing this, corn ultimately drives the economy in iowa. all things come from corn; soybeans too, but mostly corn. seed is still needing to be planted here at the beginning of the growing season, and corporations that have harvested their seed are now sending it in to seed labs to get it verified to be shipped and sold in other countries (or sold in the united states at all; you need to have certain statistics and a grading on your seed to be able to sell it here, which prevents companies from selling shitty seed to farmers at incredibly high prices as was the case back when government seed labs were first established in the early 1900s). it becomes clearer to me, with that in mind, why the seed lab i work at is still staying open, but it also raises some other questions; for instance, are all public seed labs still open throughout the US? are private seed labs still open? how will the drop in labor in these labs effect the agricultural industry? (i’m assuming the answer to the last one will be ‘not much’, but i have no idea how it is at other labs, and if they have more full time workers than part time and all that).

like, considering the wider scope of things, it’s wild that essential public services also include niche public services like seed testing. it makes sense that the seed lab will remain open. it makes sense that the amount of samples coming in hasn’t slowed down, and they’ll probably have a major delay on getting sample results/documentation and all that to companies ordering them. as long as meat is being produced, feed is needed, and as long as feed is needed iowa will keep producing corn at an incredible rate. it’s just like. seeds, man......what a world

as for your second question about botanical entertainment, i’m pretty preoccupied with classes rn but the digital flowers site from the university of Illinois is a resource we use in plant systematics a lot that’s fun to poke around; also, the KEW digital herbarium, and, of course, the famous in defense of plants podcast. oh, the crime pays but botany doesn’t youtube channel is a great time, too!

#this is A Long Post but lmao yeah #asks #plont asks #seed job #long post #Anonymous

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oriigami · 5 years ago

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poison and wine

(Nami isn't expecting to run into Vinsmoke Reiju plotting a murder at the same high-society party where she's planning a heist, but, well. Two birds, one stone. Reiju/Nami, M. Read it on AO3 here!)

“What,” Nami hissed under her breath, “are you doing here.”

She kept her voice low, so as not to raise any alarms. Just around the corner from the narrow alleyway they were hidden in was the gateway into the governor’s mansion, the massive open doors spilling light onto the cobblestones of the street. Guards with rifles stood stiffly on either side of the doorway as guests draped in silk and jewels flowed through the entryway.

The Governor’s Ball was the social event of the year, on this particular island. Anyone who was anyone would be in attendance, and droves of nobility from surrounding islands were invited as well. A forged invitation was tucked away in Nami’s own handbag, next to her lockpicks.

Vinsmoke Reiju tilted her head to one side innocently, pink bangs falling across her forehead, and leisurely looked Nami up and down. She looked absolutely unbothered by the blue steel of Nami’s clima-tact pressed beneath her chin and against her raised wrists, pinning her to the cold stone of the wall behind her. She was wearing a dress, mostly black and patterned with a scattered spiral of little white flowers, hem just low enough to hide the numbers tattooed to her thighs. There were pink and white gemstones dangling from her earrings, and Nami didn’t doubt they were real.

It occurred to Nami she was staring, and she forced herself to jerk her gaze back to Reiju’s eye, which was watching her with something that looked suspiciously like amusement.

“I could ask the same of you,” Reiju said mildly. “I hadn’t heard any word of the Strawhat Pirates on this island, and I do keep an eye out. Are you here alone?”

Nami didn’t answer, narrowing her eyes and tightening her grip on her weapon, but Reiju smiled as if she’d given confirmation anyways.

“My business here is nothing to do with you or your darling crew at all, don’t worry,” she said. “The island to the northeast has a king who’s made himself a surplus of enemies. A distasteful man who gets along well with other distasteful men. Someone has paid quite a lot of money to see him dead, but he’s rather paranoid and reclusive, which makes reaching him difficult… except, of course, for his annual attendance to this soiree, due to his close friendship with the governor.”

“So you’re here to assassinate him?”

“Yes,” Reiju confirmed easily. “And yourself? It’s nothing to do with the governor’s famed collection of jewels, I presume?”

Nami glared at her infuriatingly knowing smile and very, very pink lips for a moment longer before she sighed and lowered her staff, letting it contract back to baton size and quickly tucking it back into the leg holster concealed beneath her skirt. Her dress was sea-green and sleeveless, and she’d slit the sides herself to make it easier to run or fight in if need be.

“I couldn’t resist, when I heard they’d be on display,” she admitted. “I asked my crew to drop me off. I’m almost disappointed by the security here, though. I thought this would be more of a challenge. Anyways, it doesn’t matter. You stay out of my way and I’ll stay out of yours.”

“I’ve heard the surveillance inside the mansion is bothersomely tight, however,” Reiju said, glancing around the corner to the steady stream of wealthy guests still flowing through the gates. “Perhaps the two of us can still help each other?”

Nami looked at her carefully. “What do you mean?”

Reiju shrugged casually and smiled. “Two pretty women wandering about together will certainly arouse less suspicion than two individuals poking around separately. And I understand infiltration to be a specialty of yours. Care to be my date?”

Nami’s first instinct was to reject the offer out of hand, but- well, she didn’t know anything about the security inside, and Reiju’s point was sound. And Reiju’s assassination attempt could potentially provide her a fantastic distraction for her theft, if she timed it right.

(And Reiju was very, very pretty.)

“No strings attached,” Nami said. “I’m not responsible for making sure you get out of here in one piece. And don’t think you get a cut of the loot, either. Anything I steal is mine and mine alone.”

“Fair terms,” Reiju conceded, and extended a crooked arm. “Shall we, then?”

“Don’t get any ideas,” Nami said, combing her hair back into place with her fingers and checking her reflection in a puddle of stagnant water before slipping her arm into Reiju’s. “You might have helped us get out of Tottoland, but that doesn’t mean we’re friends or anything, and I definitely don’t trust you.”

“Of course,” Reiju agreed, sounding unbothered as they stepped back onto the street arm-in-arm, falling into step with a few other approaching guests. “Would ‘allies’ be more acceptable?”

“Allies works,” Nami conceded before wincing. “Ugh, I sound like Torao.”

“Hm?”

Nami waved her hand. “Nevermind,” she said before breaking into a bright smile as they approached the doorway.

“Evening, ladies,” the guard said, bowing his head shallowly in deference, though Nami didn’t miss the way his eyes never left them. It seemed Reiju was right- they would be more watched than she’d anticipated. “Invitations, please.”

Reiju pulled an invitation out and held it out for inspection, the ornate gold leaf lining glittering in the light. It was a really good forgery, even Nami had to admit- much more professional than the one she’d brought. Seeing it, she felt a sudden bolt of doubt as to whether her own invite would pass. She’d have to try something else to get past the guard.

“Princess Reiju Dokuyaku,” Reiju introduced herself with a thin smile, holding the small card almost like a weapon.

The guard inspected the card for a long moment, then nodded, turning to Nami. “And…?”

“Her wife,” Nami interjected brightly, hanging off of Reiju’s arm and giving the guard a bubbly grin. This was an act she knew, though it had been awhile since she’d had to play it. She was pleased to note her acting skills hadn’t rusted at all. You never knew when they would come in handy.

The guard gave her a considering look, then, “Right. Enjoy the party, my ladies. Be sure to ask security if you have any concerns,” he said, waving them past without another look.

“Wife?” Reiju asked under her breath, a smile in her voice, as they proceeded into the foyer.

“Don’t get smug,” Nami muttered back, elbowing her. “My invite wouldn’t have passed and guards are less likely to question a spouse, that’s all.”

“Hm,” Reiju said, pink lips curving up into a smile. “I can certainly think of worse fates.”

It was just as well they stepped out into the ballroom just then, because Nami couldn’t think of a single clever rejoinder to that.

The ballroom was massive, with a high, arcing ceiling and a sweepingly wide marble dance floor, polished so bright it shone. Everything from the windowsills to the chandeliers above was excessively ornate. Just looking at it made Nami’s fingers itch. The room was populated by guests wandering here and there, most in pairs or small groups, marveling at the decor or talking among themselves.

“It doesn’t look like the jewels are on display yet,” Nami noted under her breath, straightening up to get a better look at the head of the room, where a collection of empty plinths stood.

“Unsurprising, if they’re to be the centerpiece,” Reiju said, casting a look around. “It seems his majesty has yet to make an appearance as well.” She turned back to Nami, and her one visible eye glittered a little. “It seems we have some time to kill, no?”

“Seems so,” Nami agreed, fluidly snagging a flute of champagne off a passing waiter’s platter. Reiju grabbed her own as the man passed, and twirled the stem between her fingers.

“Shall we toast?” Reiju asked. She hadn’t dropped her expression of quiet amusement once since entering the manor, and it was starting to get on Nami’s nerves.

Nami arched a brow. “To crime?”

Reiju laughed. “How about… to a lasting partnership?”

“This is a one-night-only affair, Vinsmoke.”

“I’ve found that one night can last a very long time, if one knows what one is doing,” Reiju said with a knowing smile that slipped right under Nami’s skin. She fought down the blush. It would have felt too much like conceding defeat.

“I suppose I can drink to that,” Nami conceded, and tapped her glass against Reiju’s. The high clink of crystal against crystal rang like a bell. “To mutual benefits.”

“Indeed,” Reiju said, smiling into her glass before taking a drink. Her vibrant lip gloss left a faint pink smudge on the rim of the glass, and Nami couldn’t seem to stop herself from noticing it. Her lips were the exact same shade of pink as her hair.

She wondered if Reiju’s lip gloss was poisonous. Not for any particular reason. It just seemed prudent to know, in case… circumstances arose.

They made their way across the room, winding through groups of chattering nobles and royals and other people of importance. Nami listened in on the conversations as they passed, hoping to hear something about the planned events of the night or perhaps some more word on the security measures, but most of the guests seemed more focused on recent pieces of gossip from the surrounding islands.

Suddenly, as they were making their way past a small group of guests, the word pirate caught her ear, and she couldn’t help but slow down, changing course to drift over to the conversation, handing her now-empty champagne glass off to another waiter. Reiju followed her lead easily.

“Oh, it’s just awful,” an older woman in a gaudy golden dress and a tiara on her forehead was lamenting. “The pirate activity has only gotten worse and worse in the past two years. It’s taking the most dreadful toll on my nerves.”

The man whose arm she was clinging to nodded solemnly. “It seems as though ever since the Paramount War, the world’s been in chaos.”

“It’s all because of those feral dogs of the Worst Generation!” a younger woman dressed in green spoke up, voice sharp and unpleasant. “We were fine as we were before they started upsetting the natural order of things! Why can’t they just leave us be and live like law-abiding citizens like the rest of us? Rotten criminal scum.”

Nami had to bite her tongue to keep from saying anything, and her hands curled into fists at her sides as she felt her face start to heat up. You have no idea, she wanted to say. You have no idea, you here in your jewels and your champagne and your guards at the door. You don’t know anything about him, you don’t know anything about us, you have no idea and no right-

A cool hand with shimmery pink nail polish, impeccably neat, settled on her bare shoulder, pulling her back to reality. “Pardon me,” Reiju said, taking a step forward and slipping effortlessly into the conversation, tugging the guests’ attention to her just as easily. “Terribly sorry to interrupt. Did I hear you were talking about pirates?”

“We certainly were!” the woman in green said. “Have you been reading the papers lately?”

“Yes, I pay very close attention to the world news,” Reiju said. “You have to, these days, mm? It’s so hard to keep track of it all. So hard to know who is on your side.”

“Goodness, yes,” said the older woman in gold.

“And, why, if one isn’t well-informed, one could wind up being scared of absolutely everything, which seems to me like a positively pitiable existence,” Reiju continued, and Nami could tell at once the words weren’t meant for the guests, not really.

She looked around at the guests again- well-dressed and wide-eyed and frightened and weak, and yes, maybe Reiju was right. You have no idea, she thought again, though this time there was no anger, just a dawning sort of comprehension. No idea at all.

And they never would. They would never know the bone-deep fury of injustice or the glee of a successful escape, or the feeling of the ocean wind on sunburnt skin. Their worlds would never grow beyond these decorated rooms and tittering conversations, frightened of the pirates at their doors when they should have been worried about something else entirely.

“Exactly!” the woman in green said with a firm nod, as though she had the slightest idea at all what she was agreeing to, and the conversation resumed, now thoroughly distracted from the topic of the Worst Generation and, by proxy, the Strawhat Pirates.

Nami reached up to her shoulder to find Reiju’s hand and lace their fingers together. Reiju gently pulled her away from the conversation, and Nami let herself go.

“Thanks,” Nami said, once they were far enough away from the conversation. Out of the heat of the moment, she felt almost embarrassed of her almost-outburst. She’d never had near misses like that on her many infiltrations before becoming a pirate.

It was strange to realize that, in the intervening time, she’d changed so deeply. Come to care so deeply.

“I’m out of practice,” she muttered, rubbing the back of her neck with her free hand. “I used to be a lot better at playing along.”

Reiju was giving her a look that she couldn’t quite place, with a light in her blue eye that made her look all at once much more human. “It’s not a weakness to care about things,” she said.

There was something more to those words than just what Reiju said, Nami could tell from the tightening in her shoulders and the sudden vulnerability in her voice, but she didn’t push, though she couldn’t help but wonder. It didn’t feel like the time or the place.

Instead, she gave herself a long moment to catch her breath and regain her composure, until she was sure she wouldn’t turn back around to take a swing at that lady in green, and then smiled again.

After all, this was shaping up to be an interesting night. She wasn’t about to let anyone ruin it for her.

---

After they’d drifted between a few other (luckily more boring) conversations and shared a few more flutes of champagne apiece, Nami found her attention drifting towards the section of the marble floor where a few of the guests were dancing, turning in slow, careful circles to the accompaniment of a string quartet.

Maybe it was down to the faint, warm hum of the alcohol in her system, but the words slipped from her lips before she could stop them. “Want to dance?”

Reiju looked surprised, but pleasantly so, her visible eye widening momentarily before she smiled. “I’d love to,” she said. Nami realized belatedly that Reiju’s hand was still in hers, her skin calmingly cool, as she led her over to the dance floor.

“I ought to warn you, I don’t have much experience with dancing,” Reiju said, and true to her words, her movements were a little hesitant as she settled a hand on Nami’s waist, despite the easy grace with which she seemed to do everything.

Nami blinked. “Really?”

Reiju tipped her head. “Is that surprising?”

Nami shrugged a little, absently adjusting Reiju’s loose grip on her hand to something more correct. This, at least, was something she could do in her sleep, after countless cruise ships and gaudy parties and ‘may I have this dance, miss?’ “I just assumed, since you’re royalty and all. And Sanji does.”

Reiju laughed, looking momentarily delighted. “Does he? Adorable. But… no, our father was never particularly concerned about our education in such areas,” she admitted, her expression shuttering slightly.

Ah. “Well, no problem,” Nami said. “I can teach you.”

Reiju’s smile softened. “I’d love that,” she said, and sounded sincere.

The music was slow and classical, easy to move to. Despite her proclaimed inexperience, Reiju was a fast learner, quickly falling into rhythm with the music and Nami’s steps as she guided the both of them around the dance floor. The hem of her little black dress, decorated with flowers, twirled around her knees.

Reiju was so very graceful. Nami couldn’t help but be almost envious of the easy balance with which she seemed to do everything. She was used to seeing it in Sanji, easily balancing armfuls of plates or snapping up a leg to catch a falling dish without missing a step, but something about the way Reiju moved practically turned her into poetry.

Because there was really no avoiding it- Reiju was beautiful, all long legs and pink lips and unblemished skin. Nami kept catching herself staring, and it seemed like every time she did, Reiju’s knowing eyes caught hers.

The more time she spent with Reiju’s cool hands in hers, Reiju’s perfectly lacquered nails against her skin, Reiju’s clever smile haunting her mind, she more she wanted to get her alone in a bed or against a wall and just-

Nami might have been a little in over her head. She had a bad habit, when it came to girls, their eyes and their smiles, and all the better if there was a taste of danger involved. She spun Reiju out, catching her by her fingertips and pulling her back in, and for half a second they were nearly nose-to-nose.

She really was stupid, letting herself get reeled in like this.

She couldn’t even bring herself to regret it.

They were three songs deep when a cavernous thunk sound reverberated through the ballroom, and they both stilled in place almost at once, looking up at the same time as all eyes turned to the massive doors at the entrance swinging shut.

In front of them stood a thin man with a slick grey mustache, holding a microphone.

“Ah, this will be our venerable host,” Reiju said. She was still tucked half against Nami’s chest, where she’d been when the music had stopped, and seemed disinclined to move. “It seems the party will now start in earnest.”

Nami could have scolded herself. She’d gotten so caught up in Reiju that she’d momentarily forgotten the greater situation- the jewels to be won, the heist to be made, the man somewhere in this crowd who would certainly be dead by the time the night was out. She had to force herself to drag her attention away from the woman pressed close against her and focus on the host as he began to speak.

“Honored guests,” he said, amplified voice rolling around the room. “It’s a pleasure to have you all here with me tonight, for the annual Governor’s Ball. It seems we’ve all arrived safely. Looking out now, I see plenty of old friends and new faces alike, and I hope you’ll all have a splendid time.”

“The schedule for this evening will be as follows: after a half hour of mingling, we will have some musical performances from some of the loveliest singers in the area, and then waiters will provide the main course followed by the presentation of the evening’s centerpiece- the crown jewels.”

“If you have any concerns at all, please bring them to me or one of our many esteemed security officers. Safety is a priority, especially with the recent pirate activity. My greatest wish is for you all to feel safe, fulfilled, and happy tonight. Please, enjoy the festivities!”

With that, he bowed, and a polite round of applause rose from the crowd of assembled guests. Nami glanced around and took fresh notice of the guards spaced along the walls. All armed. She was abruptly very glad for the cool, reassuring press of her compressed clima-tact against her thigh.

“It would be better to get to the gems before they’re on display,” she murmured, half to herself and half to Reiju, quiet enough to be barely audible. “Those pedestals are very visible.” Anyone who drew too close to them would be almost immediately noticed by the guards, and most likely dealt with accordingly.

“By design, I’m sure,” Reiju agreed. “Shall we have a look about, then? They must already be somewhere in the manor.”

“Do you see your… target anywhere around here?” Nami asked. She glanced around, but it told her nothing- all of the faces here were unfamiliar.

Reiju shook her head, one-eyed gaze roving watchfully over the crowd. “I don’t, but he must be here somewhere if all the guests are already arrived.”

“What if he’s just not here this year?”

Reiju hummed. “It’s possible. If that’s the case, I’ll just have to approach the problem with a bit more mess,” she said mildly, as though breaking in and murdering a paranoid king on his home turf was nothing more than a mild inconvenience. “Even if so, though- the evening’s already been quite worth my while.”

Nami arched an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Reiju’s pink-painted lips curved up. “Mhm,” she hummed.

A voice in the back of Nami’s mind whispered, You don’t need to be back with your crew until morning. You have a whole night ahead.

“Shall we have a walk about, then?” Reiju said, extending a hand, and Nami took it before she could even begin to think twice.

They slipped easily down one of the hallways that branched off of the main ballroom. It seemed all the rest of the mansion was just as lavishly decorated as the centerpiece room- tapestries depicting scenes of battle and bloodshed hung on the walls, spaced here and there with ornately-worked doors and windows, and lush carpeting muffled the sounds of their heels against the floor. Nami wondered just how many millions of beri surrounded them, built into the house itself, and couldn’t help a flash of bitter greed.

At her side, Reiju made a small, half-amused noise. “Look at that. History being rewritten all around us.”

Nami glanced over at her. “What?”

“Do you know anything about the history of this island?”

Nami shook her head. “Only that there was a civil war… ten years ago? Right?”

“Indeed, though that’s only a fragment of the story,” Reiju said, nodding at the tapestries. “I’d advise you ask Nico-san at some point, she’d surely tell it better than I, but the simple version is that the former king of this island was deposed and his power seized by the honored governor who is hosting us tonight.”

“By the few reputable accounts that exist, the king was a mild, unimpressive but decent man, who had maintained the peace for decades. The governor enlisted the help of the greedy ruler of a neighboring island- the same I’m aiming for tonight, as it happens- to aid him in his overthrow, and launched a surprise attack. The so-called civil war barely took a night. So, a question, Miss Navigator,” Reiju said, and gestured towards the hanging tapestries with an airy wave, “Just when did all these glorious battles take place?”

Nami slowly pivoted in place, taking in the scenes woven around them. A man in a crown with bloodied hands and a wicked sneer; two armies, clashing in what looked to be a city center. She thought of Alabasta, and Vivi’s voice cracking with sobs.

She exhaled, and pressed her lips together for a moment. “Well, I’m glad we’re about to rob him blind, then,” she said, her voice a little sharper than she’d intended.

For the first time that night, Reiju’s smile had teeth. “I as well,” she said.

Nami raised an eyebrow. “I thought you people didn’t care about-” she waved a hand- “morality.”

“Says the pirate?” Reiju asked, sounding unbothered. Nami was beginning to wonder if anything at all offended her. “I’d think you of all people would understand that criminal acts don’t preclude an appreciation for justice, elusive though it is.”

“Fair enough,” Nami conceded. She opened her mouth to say something else when suddenly another voice reached her ears- around the next corner from them, and drawing steadily nearer. She paused in step immediately, listening intently, and saw Reiju doing the same.

It was the voice of their host, the governor, the same voice that had been ringing around the ballroom not long before. There were two sets of footsteps.

“...could make it,” the governor was saying.

Nami glanced around and caught her eyes on the nearest door. She quickly sidestepped over to the wall, grateful that the carpet muted the clack of her heels, and eased the door open, luckily without needing to wrestle with it. It opened into a small closet, and Nami ducked inside without hesitation, yanking Reiju in after her and easing the door closed again just as the footsteps rounded the corner.

The space was narrow- even with their backs against opposite walls, they were chest-to-chest. Just enough light eked in past the door for Nami to make out the outlines of Reiju’s face, very close to hers.

Another voice said, “Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” and Nami could feel Reiju tense, just slightly.

“That’s him,” she whispered in Nami’s ear, so faint it was barely an exhale, her breath warm on Nami’s skin.

“I’m glad you agreed to raise the security this year,” the second man- Reiju’s target, the king- continued. “I’m telling you, people are aiming for my life! I have reputable information!”

The governor chuckled. “Anything for my dear friend! I’ve told the guards to keep a special eye out for you, as well. You needn’t worry about a thing.”

“You wouldn’t believe what a weight off my shoulders that is!” the king said with a laugh, as the two voices passed by the closet door without a pause, completely oblivious to the two women listening to their every word.

“I understand how you feel, of course,” the governor said. “Security is a necessity, especially in these trying times. Why do you think I’m keeping my collection safely in my office for the next few hours?”

Bingo. Nami grinned. She had her target. And Reiju had hers.

The voices lapsed into silence after that, and as Nami waited for the footsteps to fade, she became increasingly aware of Reiju’s heart beating against her chest; of Reiju’s perfume, something like flowers and something like steel, filling the small space; of the faintest hint of light through the door catching on Reiju’s glossy pink lip gloss.

Poison, she remembered dimly, and couldn’t bring herself to care even a little bit.

“You know,” Reiju whispered, still hushed almost to inaudibility, “we have plenty of time.”

Fuck it, Nami thought, and kissed her.

It was clumsy, in the crowded darkness, off-center and uncertain at first, but Reiju responded immediately, pushing Nami back against the closet wall with her whole body weight, leaning into the kiss and deepening it into something that felt almost sinful.

One of Nami’s hands was still around one of Reiju’s wrists, and she felt her way up the other woman’s arm and across her bare shoulders, finding the contours of her body in the darkness, pulling her close, holding her close. Reiju’s skin was cool, but her body was warm, pressed against Nami’s, chest to chest and hip to hip like puzzle pieces. Her hands closed around Nami’s upper arms, perfectly manicured nails pressing little crescents into her skin.

It was the furthest thing from dignified, for all the silk they were draped in, for all the diamonds hanging from Reiju’s ears. Outside there was a party, and a horde of jewels to steal, but in the moment Nami couldn’t care about any of it, with Reiju’s mouth on hers, Reiju’s lip gloss on her tongue and on her teeth.

She tasted like strawberries. Nami felt like she could have got drunk on that taste alone.

After what felt like the best forever Nami had ever known, Reiju pulled away just long enough to whisper, sounding just a little out of breath, the most she had all night, “I was wondering when you were going to kiss me.”

Nami snorted into the crook of Reiju’s shoulder, pressing lips against her skin. “And how was it?” she asked, unable to keep a spark of knowing out of her voice. She knew damn well that she was good at kissing girls.

“Delicious,” Reiju murmured emphatically, something irresistibly heavy in her voice, and Nami found her lips in the darkness and kissed her again and again.

She couldn’t have said whether it was ten or twenty or fifty minutes later that they eventually pulled apart, her arms on Reiju’s back and Reiju’s hands on her shoulders, the both of them dizzy and thoroughly kissed. Nami leaned against the wall at her back while she caught her breath, Reiju still flush against her chest, their breath and perfume mingling together in the narrow space.

For a long, long moment, she just rested there, and felt the rise and fall of Reiju’s chest against hers, the press of her hands and the tickle of her hair against her bare shoulder and neck.

This was already a far better night than she could ever have dreamed of, and she hadn’t even laid hands on a single gem. The weight and warmth of Reiju in her arms was easily worth the governor’s entire horde.

“We’ve got work to do,” Nami eventually said, and didn’t move.

“Mhm,” Reiju hummed. “When do you need to be back with your crew?”

“Not until morning.”

She could feel Reiju smile against her shoulder. “So why don’t we get our work done, get out of here… and then see what we can do with the rest of the night, hm?”

Nami grinned into the darkness, feeling excitement bubble through her veins like champagne- at the prospect of getting away clean with jewels dripping from her hands, at the thought of Reiju’s dress on the floor. “Sounds like heaven.”

---

The plan was relatively simple. Nami would make her way up to the governor’s office, circumventing security to help herself to the gems before they were put on display, and once she was out she would trip the alarm on purpose to cause chaos enough downstairs for Reiju to pull off her kill in the resulting confusion- which, in turn, would kick up a fresh panic and facilitate their escape.

To mutual benefits. She licked her lips idly and tasted strawberry as she made her way down the hall.

The security was much lighter outside the main ballroom where the guests were gathered, which made evading the notice of what few guards there were a piece of cake, especially for an experienced infiltrator. The guests were allowed free reign of the mansion, of course, but if she was found poking around on her own there would be questions, and more attention on her than she wanted.

In the end, the governor’s third-floor office was easy to find, and nearly as easy to slip into. There was a single bored-looking guard pacing back and forth in front of the door, but getting past him proved to just be a matter of waiting until he ducked out onto the balcony for a surreptitious smoke break and then picking the lock on the door.

The room was filled with cabinets upon cabinets of jewels, resting on velvet cushioning and lit by built-in lights. They were positioned along both sides of the long room, so that whoever was sitting at the desk at the head of the office with their back to the picture window had a full view of all the riches on display.

The cabinets were alarmed, obviously, but seeing the thin tangles of wires and triggers just made Nami’s grin grow as she fished her penknife from her purse and a couple more bobby pins from her hair. It had been a long time since she’d had to challenge herself like this, and there was something exhilarating about it.

When she had worked for Arlong, every theft had been overshadowed by the constant count running in the back of her mind, dragged down by the weight of the money buried in Bellemere’s tangerine orchard: five million, ten, thirteen, twenty million, a fifth of the way there, twenty-six-

But now she was free. She could breathe, and everything she took was hers and hers alone, rather than payment towards a promise that would never be honored. With the constant suffocating stress of desperation gone, she could finally enjoy the thrill of the job in its fullest.

It tasted like strawberries.

One by one, she carefully disconnected the alarms, tongue between her teeth in concentration, and set them aside. Sliding the window of the first cabinet open sent tingles of electricity up her arms, vibrant and bright.

The first piece she retrieved was a necklace of pearls, each bead perfectly round and glinting ivory under the cabinet lights. She draped the strand around her neck and rolled her shoulders, savoring the silky feel of the pearls against her skin. It reminded her of the feel of Reiju’s hand in hers, cool and smooth and pale as porcelain.

The riches disappeared steadily into her purse, the occasional particularly gorgeous accessory making its way onto her person instead; a golden cuff around her upper arm, a tiara set with diamonds atop her head. Before long, she had the shelves on both sides of the room cleared, gems glittering and spilling from the mouth of her overstuffed purse.

The only thing left was the centerpiece of the collection, resting in a small case on the governor’s desk- a heavy cushion-cut diamond that put stars in Nami’s eyes just from looking.

She pulled her shoes off, tossing them aside- far easier to run in bare feet than in heels.

In one smooth movement, she pulled her clima-tact from beneath her dress and snapped it open to its full length, smashed the alarmed case enclosing the diamond with a single sharp swing, grabbed the jewel with her free hand as the lights went dim and alarms began to sing out, and ran.

Three minutes, Reiju had said. She just needed to give her three minutes.

She started counting off the seconds in her head as she slammed the office door open again, no longer bothering with the pretense of subtlety. The guard who’d been watching the hallway was caught stunned with his hand halfway to his gun, and Nami wasted no time clubbing him across the head with her staff, not even bothering with the weather features.

He collapsed like a rag doll and she took off down the hallway, barefoot and bright-eyed, as more heavy footsteps approached around the corner. With the pins that had been holding her hair up gone, her updo came undone, long tangled curls of orange falling free down her back and over her shoulders.

Twenty… twenty-one… twenty-two…

She was Reiju’s distraction. Reiju was her escape route. Ordinarily she wouldn’t trust anyone outside of her crew for something like that, but, well. Even untrusting as she was, she’d always been a sucker for a pretty women with sharp smiles. Carina was proof enough of that. (She never did learn.)

She tossed a lightning bolt over her shoulder as two more guards rounded the corner, and turned down another hallway to the accompaniment of their shouting. There were more coming, stampeding up the stairs- the ballroom below must have been in absolute chaos, abandoned by the guards and full of panicked wealthy guests. A perfect setting for an assassination.

Nami had always been good at escaping. She’d learned to be good, over years and years where her only true weapons were her feet and her mind. There was a reason they called her a cat.

She dodged around corners and ducked through doors, obscuring sightlines, always careful not to lose her footing, not to back herself into a corner. The guards were thickest at the tops of the stairs, gathering there to block off her exits and wait for her to run right into them, but they were bound for disappointment. She’d never meant to leave down the stairs.

One hundred seventy-four… seventy-five… seventy-six…

She rounded a corner to the front of the house. There was an ornate floor to ceiling-picture window there, overlooking the streets below. It ran in long panels all along the stretch of hall, providing a truly stunning view of the city at night. It must have been very expensive.

Nami twisted her staff and unleashed a focused hurricane of gale-force wind that shattered it to glittering dust in an instant, not even pausing in her stride as the cool night wind rushed in. In a matter of moments, what had been a wall of glass had become an emergency exit. Two more strides took her to the lip of the void, standing on the edge between the bright, ornate mansion at her back and the dark night sky before her.

She glanced over her shoulder to wink at the guards as they rounded the corner, as they skidded to a halt almost as one to keep their momentum from carrying them out the broken window, as their eyes widened in realization.

Then she jumped.

For a moment, she was in freefall, night air rushing past her, silky turquoise skirt and tangled orange hair and gleaming strings of pearls all trailing behind her like a comet’s tail as she dropped towards the cobblestones below.

A soft laugh; a flash of pink.

A pair of arms closed around her, holding her close, gently bringing her fall to a stop ten feet off the ground, suspended in midair. Gunfire rattled out, flashing from the broken window, thudding harmlessly into the sweeping purple butterfly wings of Reiju’s raid suit, fanned out behind them, shielding them.

“Playing it a bit close there, weren’t we?” Reiju said, smiling despite her words. Her little black dress had disappeared in favor of her raid suit, sleek and revealing, and there was a splatter of blood high on one of her cheekbones.

Nami grinned, wrists trailing sapphires and silver as she looped her arms around Reiju’s neck, drunk and giddy on gold and diamonds and the lingering taste of strawberries and champagne, and said, “I like to live dangerously.”

“Spoken like a pirate,” Reiju said, eye bright with amusement. “Shall we take our leave of this dull affair, then?”

“Let’s,” Nami agreed, and Reiju swung her easily up into a princess carry and kicked off of thin air, soaring gracefully through the night sky, the panicked commotion of the party and the rattle of gunfire quickly fading behind them. The night sky was clear and bright above them, scattered with stars, and the city’s nightlife glowed beneath their feet.

She pulled herself up to press a kiss to Reiju’s cheek, and smiled when she felt a soft laugh run through the other woman’s body. Diamonds in the stars above and lights below and spilling from her purse, and diamonds hanging from Reiju’s ears, and Nami could have lived in that moment forever.

---

Reiju’s hotel room was a penthouse, the top of one of the tallest buildings in the city, because if there was one trait she shared with her brother it was an inability to do things halfway. The noise and light of the chaos at the governor’s manor was far-away and faded now, leaving them alone in the peaceful darkness of the room, sitting side by side on the silky sheets and trading smiles.

It would take time to mount a search, in a city of this size. They’d be gone by morning, long before they could be discovered.

For now, they had the night.

They’d both undressed; Reiju’s raid suit was gone, leaving her in just her underwear, the bold black of the tattoos on her legs standing out like a crime scene against the flawless smoothness of her skin. Nami couldn’t help but be reminded of a different tattoo, a mark of ownership written in dark blue ink, sharp and cruel and irrevocable.

“Nami,” Reiju said thoughtfully after a long stretch of comfortable silence, staring out the wide glass balcony windows to the city below. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Nami said, resting her hand on Reiju’s on the sheets, stolen rings cool on her fingers. Reiju leaned against her bare shoulder in answer, her skin pleasantly cool while Nami’s was still flushed from exertion.

“What’s it like to be a pirate?”

“Mmm,” Nami hummed, thinking for a second. How did you even begin to answer a question like that? It should have been impossible, and yet the words fell from her tongue easily. “Being a pirate is… freedom. It’s living exactly how you want to and chasing your dreams no matter what they are, no matter what the world tries to tell you.”

She smiled, soft and unconscious. “But it’s also finding people to share that dream with, who’ll go to the end of the world with you. There are captains who don’t see it that way- like Big Mom, or-” Arlong, she bit her tongue down on the name, and swallowed before continuing, “...but if you’ve got a good captain, and a good crew, and a good ship… I think it’s the best life there is.”

“...It sounds lovely,” Reiju murmured after a moment. There was an almost mournful kind of look on her face, something sad and something longing, lit dimly in profile by the light of the city below.

Something about that look, about the absence of the knowing gleam that had sparkled in Reiju’s eyes all night, pushed her to blurt, before she could think better of it, “Are you happy?”

Reiju blinked, like she hadn’t been expecting Nami to say anything, like she’d forgotten she was there entirely for a moment, before she sighed and shook her head. “You Strawhats,” she said, sounding fond. “What is it about you? ”

She was quiet a moment longer before she looked over, met Nami’s gaze, and smiled. There was something different about it this time, Nami couldn’t help but think. The teasing playfulness from earlier was gone, replaced by something warmer and much more honest. “I’m happy right now,” she said. “And that’s enough.”

And then, with a corner of her mouth curving up, as she reached over to prop her arms on Nami’s shoulders and lean close, “And there’s still hours before dawn.”

Nami couldn’t help but smile back, wild and free, as Reiju leaned in to kiss her with all the exhilaration of escape. They tumbled back into bed together, orange hair fanning out over sink sheets and Reiju’s body warm and cold all at once and Reiju’s lips tasting like strawberries, and she couldn’t stop smiling.

The sheets were silk and the room was dark and lit by the city below, and it turned out Reiju had been right; if one knew what one was doing, one night could last a very long time.

---

They left the hotel just before sunrise, slipping out of the city and down to the docks unnoticed in the soft grey light of earliest morning. The ocean was lapping gently against the rocky shore and the wooden beams of the pier, a sound that had long since come to mean home to Nami’s ears.

Reiju didn’t ask for a ride, and Nami didn’t offer one. That had been the terms of the affair from the start, after all; a one-night alliance. No strings attached.

But Reiju did say, “I hope I’ll see you again?” That playful spark was back in her eyes, but there was something softer there too, something more honest, some remnant of that briefly vulnerable moment they’d shared.

“Count on it,” Nami said with a grin, and Reiju kissed her once more and was gone, stealing away back down the pier without a backwards glance, leaving Nami with a purse full of gemstones and a smile too wide on her face.

She could see the silhouette of the Sunny approaching, muted by the early morning fog; come to steal her away again and bring her home, to her crew, to the next adventure.

She licked her lips, and savored the taste of strawberries.

#opfic #one piece #my writing #nami #vinsmoke reiju #opfanfic #uh do they even have a ship tag #i dont. think they do?

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thecardsimagine · 5 years ago

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Night of Love

≿————-————- ❈ ————-————-≾

Pairing: Asra x Hasmin (Apprentice by @vesuviacore) Genre: Lemon, Fluff Rated: Mature

≿————-————- ❈ ————-————-≾

a/n: And the second story of my giveaway! This time featuring the lovely Hasmin from @vesuviacore! Thank you so much for giving me the opportunity to write for those two lovebirds, it was super cute and some saucy practice for me! Thanks for participating and following my blog ♥

≿————-————- ❈ ————-————-≾

A person who said it was strange for the newlyweds to leave before all their guests parted from the celebration, certainly hadn't experienced Nopal's wedding celebrations before. Considering they would be going on way into the earliest hours of the next day, it wasn't so strange for the freshly married couple to say their goodbyes to have at least a little bit of each other on the day that was only meant for them and their love.

As beautiful, heartfelt, and fun the day was, Asra and Hasmin both agreed that by the time the nearby bells rang midnight, it was time for them to say their farewells in favor of cuddles and sleep. Most of their friends and the people that joined their celebration were still going hard with the music never ceasing, and the drinks overflowing, but the couple had been up early that day. Sleepiness, joined by anticipation and excitement, those feelings never entirely fell off their shoulders throughout the day, their minds not yet realizing just what the day actually meant for their lives.

Still, despite the weariness, both of them were just as chipper as they had been throughout the day. Stumbling back to their hut, they had quite a bit of a walk from the city back home, their path sandy, and causing one or the other trip over a stone or uneven ground. But already, Hasmin had Asra by her side to catch her, and her hand held him back when he missed a step. They were as in sync as they always had been, their bodies knowing each other well enough to counter every mistake and every weakness.

To say 'yes' to each other had just been an official way of showing what they had known for a while now: Just how much they were connected by their love for each other.

Even if the alcohol and long day had worn the two of them down, they still smiled and giggled as they reached their second home in the vast world. Word of affections still spilled from their mouths, and their hands never stopped holding on to each other, even if Asra fumbled around with the door lock for a while, before handing the keys to his now-wife after she prompted to let her try.

The satisfying click of the door revealed it opening for them, while Hasmin held up the keys triumphantly, yet not conceited, and Asra beamed from pride too over the achievement of getting inside the house. However, before either one of them could make one step inside, Hasmin felt a tug on the hand holding his, keeping her back and leaving her with a surprised expression on her face.

"Asra, what--?" she questioned before, suddenly, she got swept off her feet with a small squeal, instinctively letting go of him to wrap her arms around his neck instead. "It's tradition, I heard-" he started his explanation, carefully adjusting the way he was holding her so she would not only be comfortable but also secure in his arms. "-to carry the bride inside one's home after the wedding."

Chuckling, Hasmin wasn't appalled by the idea, leaning onto him more with her head on his shoulders, giving him her full trust that Asra would get the two through the rather small door frame. And not disappointing her, he did, sideways, first the head then eventually the legs once they stood in the middle of the hut.

He didn't just set her down then and there, though, as he kept his hold, waiting for her to meet his gaze once she noticed she wasn't going down. "What?" she asked, grinning as she saw his sleek smile and the mischievous gleam in his eyes, which were illuminated by the moonlight coming in through the window. Asra's answer was almost too simple, a kiss on her lips, long and deep, just like his love for her, lips barely parting from each other as she responded with the same affection.

Without the need to communicate it further, he brought her over to the bed, a place they had shared many nights before, but now had a very different meaning to it. When he finally let her breath again, he only did it so slip his own shoes off, alongside her's, both of them now able to crawl into their conjugal bed without bringing anything in they didn't want - mainly sand - while he listened to her giggles and the shifting of fabric, as Hasmin pushed away some of her clothes that would be in the way of what was to come.

Asra, too, was more than happy to discard some of the extra fabric he had been wearing for the ceremony today, generally being someone with rather light clothes taste. But for a special day, there had to be special clothing, no questions asked. It was especially delightful to lose the fabric when he could replace it with the feeling of Hasmin's skin against his, her fingertips gliding over his shoulders before finding their place on his back. Another peck on the lips, another sweetness in their ears.

"I love you so much," he mumbled, the words coming naturally to him. All day long, those feelings had no need to be bottled. Still, despite their wedding ceremony, the two of them had been so entranced with dances, food, and congratulations from everyone, they had sadly shifted into the background.

His hands wandered as she chuckled. "I love you, too," was her soft-spoken reply, her nose nuzzling against his neck as Hasmin planted a couple sweet pecks along his shoulders. Those palms of his rubbed along her sides, making her shudder from the sensation of his fingertips tickling the sensitive areas around her torso, while his mouth followed them.

First her chin, then her collarbones. For nothing in the world would Asra have missed the way down her cleavage, kissing each breast equally once he reached the end of the middle part on her chest. "I swear-" he started to recite, halting his words only to share more kisses with her skin, Hasmin letting out giggles as his lips tickled her stomach. "To love and hold you forever. In good and in bad times, in sickness and health."

"Asra~" Hasmin chuckled. "You already told me that!"

Pushing himself up to face her properly again, he couldn't help a grin before leaning down to kiss both markings under her eyes and her cheeks, respectively. "And I will tell you forevermore. You don't know how happy you made me today when you said 'yes'."

His hands cupped her cheeks, and Hasmin chuckled, bashful at him bringing up their wedding earlier this day. The memory of it was a fond one for her too, and she still remembered the way he looked at her all throughout the vows. Those vibrant, big eyes of his, shining with the slightest hint of tears in them, bursting from all the pride and happiness he felt at that moment.

Turning her head sideways, she kissed his left palm, coming back with a big smile. "I told you 'yes' a few times before, but you got really caught up on this one, didn't you?" she teased him. His expression was taken aback, before Asra started to grin, his thumb brushing over her cheekbone.

"It's a difference when I ask you to dance, or if you want to try local specialties that I ordered--"

"--completely aware that they taste awful and still having me try them," she finished his sentence, laughing out loud. "But I always said "yes", did I not?"

His lips changing from a teasing grin to a more sentimental, sweet smile, Asra nodded. "Yeah."

"I still remember the time I almost lost you in the middle of this huge town square, and no matter which way I looked, you were nowhere to be found. That was the worst time that we ever separated. I thought I'd never find you again, and it was only our second journey, you were still so hesitant about everything."

"But you did," Hasmin sighed, relaxing as she stretched her arms out to welcome him into a hug. Gladly, Asra leaned down to have her arms wrap around him, snaking his own around her torso to embrace her back. "You were completely out of breath when you found me, even made me promise not to stray away again, and so I did, never letting go of your hand."

She chuckled, brushing her hand into his hair, feeling the many soft, white strands of hair falling through the gaps between her fingers. "And today, I took your hand in marriage, as if it was meant to be."

"And you made me the happiest I have ever been with that," Asra muttered into her ear, enjoying the feeling of her playing with his hair, their bodies heating each other through contact. "Please make me the happiest woman too," she whispered, and Asra lifted his body up as if on command, proclaiming from the depths of his heart, "I will."

They shared another kiss, as Hasmin felt him retreat from her. Asra had never been shy with his touches, but he sure knew how to apply them to make her feel good. Completely in control of the pressure he applied, his fingers always worked her up, be it with sensuality or loving. Despite the tickles on her stomach, she let him slide them down to her legs, easily slipping under her hips to drag her panties with them as they worked up her thighs, never stopping to touch.

Once Asra had pulled them off, and out of the way, he quickly caught her legs to place them on his shoulders, fingertips now dragging down again and back up, the softest hint of nail accompanying them. And with these mixed sensations, desire started to burn up in Hasmin's loins, as the backside of her thighs got pampered with his touches, followed by his kisses alongside the inner, left leg.

It didn't need much more for her to believe that he'd make her the happiest person of earth, especially because she already thought herself to be that person. She had Asra by her side, the wind of curiosity in her back, and endless adventures ahead. May it be more travel, or going back to Vesuvia and tend to the shop, the married life or maybe a family, together with him, she knew that every obstacle in her way could be overcome, and new memories would accompany the old ones she still regained to this day.

Asra's kisses fell deeper, switching leg when they managed to end at her hips, but not without leaving a trail of pecks on her abdomen as he moved over. She felt the intricate patterns he drew with his fingertips, recognizing them as patterns used in love spells. No matter if he did it subconsciously or willingly, he didn't have to use them, Hasmin's love for him way too much already, spilling from every soft gasp that left her mouth. Still, it added some extra sensations that he wasn't just dragging his fingers without a destination, and by the time he finished his pampering of her legs, Hasmin was ready for him to devote his attention elsewhere, urgently.

"I swear to make you the happiest," he recited, landing one last kiss to her stomach, before his lips curled into a more mischievous grin, his head sinking deeper. With knowledge that only Asra could have about Hasmin's body, he let his tongue glide over her clit, only to pull his tongue back to instead kiss it softly. That, plus the added sensation of his breath, robbed her of a first moan, one of her hands coming up to hide her mouth behind it, while her eyes could never let go of his form between her legs.

Even though he didn't need to look up at her to know her feelings, Asra proceeded to, moonlight catching in his eyes and making his hair sparkle behind the illusion that pleasure created. He waited for a silent confirmation from her, allowing him to continue, knowing fully well that only more good things could come from him tending to her. But the approval came in form of a half-nod, half pleading hum from her lips, and he was more than happy to avert his eyes, stretching out his arms on each side of her.

Hasmin reached out her unoccupied hand, finding his left quite easily despite it being out of view. Like a puzzle, it found together again, fingers intertwining with each other as Asra reciprocated her hold firmly, replying with a squeeze of his own whenever she did. And Hasmin had a lot of squeezes to give, every time his tongue and lips found a new place to work over.

It didn't help that Asra decided his free hand was a nice decoy of the game he wanted to play with her clit, gently helping him spread her folds, to reveal her most sensitive, anticipating entrance. Her excitement was already leaking, much to the delight of Asra, who saw his efforts taking fruition in it.

If it wasn't his lips sucking and teasing her clit, he exchanged it with his thumb, flicking the fingertip determined up and down, halting only to push into it and then start again from the beginning. He did all this with ease, while his tongue ventured forward to explore her twitching inside, Hasmin struggling to not wiggle into him as her free hand wandered from her mouth to his hair. Her tugs were gentle, yet they gave him a sense of urgency, which Asra deliberately ignored in favor of teasing her some more.

Only when his tongue was joined by his fingers, his pointer being the first one to rhythmically join his tongue slipping in and out, was when his name fell off her lips, a sign of her body starting to really heat up from it. Followed by a second finger, Asra let them dip in a few times, making sure they were coated by her slick enough before advancing deeper, stretching out her walls before falling into a soft curl to nag even the most sensitive spots inside of her.

It didn't take long that delightful panting filled the house with sound, together with the sweet calls of Asra's name while his mouth took in the knob above her folds again, sucking and releasing it repeatedly. Before long, her legs hooked behind his back still prompted over his shoulders to give him the best possible access to her. Toes were curling, pleads to not stop were muttered, as Hasmin was closing in, her mind hazed from the pleasure.

Asra was far from done though, fingers now sunken knuckle-deep into her, teasing anything and everything they could reach from their position. It was no wonder that he knew her well enough, knew what she liked and what really railed her up, but also how to stop her from cumming too soon. So despite her fingers long having started to tightly curl into his hair, Asra didn't need to doubt for a second that he could lean back, leaving her withering before him.

"D-Don't stop!" she pled, almost as if she was insulted, with her eyes wide open in shock. "It feels so good!"

"Are you happy?" he asked her, a question as simple as possible. Even if she felt like her head was going to burst from the desire of having him eating her out, she understood the question, a smile returning to the sulking expression on her face. "I am very, VERY, happy, Asra. You make me the happiest on the whole wide planet!" Hasmin admitted, relieve washing over her as she saw him blush lightly at her words, smiling before muttering a short, "Okay," and leaning down again, slowly dragging his head over the whole area of her vagina, keeping the eye contact.

He did this a few times, painfully slow. It wasn't to assert dominance but to bring out the best of feelings for her. To have her experience everything fully, just how he wished for Hasmin to be able to. Even with a past like theirs, Asra wanted her to now be able to enjoy all the things life had to offer and to give her the time that she sometimes feared she lost back when she lost her memories too.

His pace was unbearable, but he started up his movements one after another. Fingers were pushed in again, one by one always to the farthest point, with the tips making surprise curls, leaving Hasmin gasping before a moan fell off her lips. Soon, everything fell back into a much more desirable movement, parts of him returned, and soon, like gears, his mouth, hand, and breath all joined again to work perfectly together.

The feeling of being pushed up the hill of pleasure by him, soon came back, not actually starting at the bottom of the mountain again, but somewhere in the middle, making the journey a relatively fast one. Asra could feel it before she even conveyed her feelings into words, thighs beginning to flinch, and her walls twitching around him. "A-Asra--" she managed to press forth through clenched teeth before it was already too late to go back.

Releasing his hair, one hand came back to stem against the head of the bed, hips digging deep into the mattress while their joined hands shook vigorously. Asra let her live out the best parts of the orgasm, smirking and kissing the sensitive area while her mind was in heaven, taking joy from Hasmin's enjoyment, and only retreating when she seemed to have settled back on earth, letting out long, deep breaths.

At least then, he didn't waste any time to slip up to her, smothering her cheeks and jaw with more kisses as she smiled at him, brushing back some of his hair covering his forehead. Her eyes were still dazed by the bliss she just went through, but she wouldn't have missed a second to look at him. "I love you so much. I will always love you, Asra."

"I love you so much more, you know?"

"No~" Hasmin laughed. "You can't love me more, because I love you even more… more!"

The couple didn't hold back the chuckles and laughs that fell from their lips anymore, eventually only disrupted by the kiss they exchanged, going back and forth with their professions of love. As if these feelings for the other would disappear when they were left unspoken. But really, they only grew bigger and bloomed as the two exchanged them, their rings shining in the moonlight, which fell through the window in the Nopal hut, one of their many homes in the world.

But they knew that their real home would always be with the other, and they would never have to miss their place of belonging ever again.

#Asra #Asra Alnazar #the arcana #The Arcana Game #Hasmin #Hasmin the apprentice #The Arcana Scenarios #The Arcana Headcanons #the arcana fanfiction #The Arcana Imagines #the arcana fan apprentice #Fan Apprentice #fanapprentice #the arcana fanapprentices

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robiidee-posts-blog · 6 years ago

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clansayeed · 5 years ago

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Bound by Circumstance ― Chapter 10: Smoke and Mirrors

PAIRING: Nik Ryder x trans*M!MC (Taylor Hunter) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Circumstance ⥽

Taylor Hunter (MC) has made it good for himself in New Orleans; turns out moving to a new city fresh out of college to reinvent yourself isn’t as hard as people make it out to be. Things only start to get confusing when he finds himself the target of a malevolent wraith. Good thing someone’s looking out for him though — because without Nighthunter Nik Ryder as his bodyguard he definitely won’t survive long in the twisting darkness of the supernatural underworld he’s tripped into.

Bound by Circumstance and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the book Nightbound and the rest of the Bloodbound series. Find out more [HERE].

Note: Circumstance only loosely follows the events and plotline of Nightbound, and features a separate antagonist, different character motivations, and further worldbuilding.

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Circumstance/series tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

Taylor and Vera reunite just in time for a stand-off between hands, guns, and a little too much screaming. He’s really starting to think he’s not cut out for this ‘main character’ gig.

[READ IT ON AO3]

Taylor recognizes the restaurant when a waiter exits the kitchen with a large silver cart laden with all the materials for their specialty flaming bananas foster. Peeks as best he can, standing on the tips of his toes, to see the bustling front of the gilded establishment before one of Smoke’s henchmen catches him looking and shoves him forward with a grunt of warning.

As if he wasn’t seriously dejected at the fact that he’s already having to miss out on the promised onion rings.

“What — is Smoke gonna make us clean dishes as punishment?” Cal sneers. The comment earns him a smack to the back of the head but even with a werewolf growling in his face the other suited guard doesn’t even blink.

Four men in mobster-movie suits ushering five unusual-looking characters around the back walls of the five star restaurant should raise more than a few alarms but you wouldn’t know it based on the staff’s reactions.

How they purposefully look away and give their entourage a wide berth; some even moving aside to take the long way around to where they need to go.

If they were actually being held captive and against their will it wouldn’t be any use to try and beg for help. Every waiter, cook, and busser knows to keep their attentions on their jobs. Whether they’re bribed or threatened into silence is the only question but ends in the same answer.

They’re on their own.

The journey ends in a large chrome door. One of the guards reaches out but jumps back as a broad-shouldered woman exits with a wooden crate of vegetables.

Not a word passes between them. Part of the deal no doubt.

He holds the industrial freezer door open and jerks his head. “In.”

“Yeah… not gonna happen.” Ryder gives them a look of ‘really, like we’re that stupid’ but then again they did all agree to join Cadence for his not-so-friendly meeting with Lady Smoke… so they very well may be.

Well; no. Cadence agreed — which automatically implied Katherine would join him. And the startling revelation of Lady Smoke’s real name meant that Taylor was either going to go at their side or find a way to sneak in on his own — this was just easier and less likely to cause injury.

And where Taylor goes Ryder is never far behind. Cal, too, apparently.

Not that the Shift trio didn’t try to tag along — but they already looked like an ambush waiting to happen. Probably best not to actually be one.

“Funny you think you still got a choice.” But before Ryder can call his cocky bluff one of the armed men whips out his gun and smashes it into the Nighthunter’s shoulder without warning or hesitation.

Taylor throws away any consideration that those around them might be getting paid off. Only fear would keep any decent person from helping the way Ryder cries out and buckles to his knees.

His assailant stows away his gun almost too slowly — like he’s ready to use it again; but just ready but eager. “Get in the fuckin’ freezer. Or else.”

If he felt useless before Taylor’s glad he’s suddenly too cold to dwell on how he feels now.

He blindly grabs for the nearest thing — a potato of all things — and holds it against Nik’s throbbing injury while helping him up.

“Are you okay?”

“Aw, Rook, I didn’t know you cared.” teases Ryder; probably to hide the wince in his smile.

“Not funny.”

“Admit it; a little funny.”

The three mortals are already shivering when two of the guards step inside with them. The click of the freezer door locking them inside definitely doesn’t help matters.

“Step back —” says the apparent leader, actually shoves Katherine into Cadence who holds her close and looks ready to add ‘asshole bodyguard’ to the restaurant specials for the night, “— I said back!”

So they press themselves against the shelving on the walls and watch — with some interest, but mostly spite and murderous intent — as he reaches behind hanging garlands of herbs and grabs for something blindly.

With a metallic thunk the back wall — no, the back hidden fucking door — loosens enough to be pushed forward and open. Revealing a set of rickety and definitely code-violating wooden steps that lead down into a no-less frigid abyss.

Before the guard has the chance to bark another order Cadence steps forward with hands raised. “Let me guess; in?”

The guard’s upper lip curls. But all it takes is a flash of the vampire’s true face for him to back off and mutter under his frosty breath.

Down, down they go one at a time with their new friends at their backs. The only consolation being, what, that it’s slightly less cold? Sure he can’t see his breath anymore but that doesn’t mean he’s not already a Taylor-sicle.

Cal arrives at the bottom first; opens the door to some kind of back office. Like a security room, only… underground.

A similarly-suited woman looks up from a row of fuzzy monitors as they start to crowd inside. It’s not a space meant for this many bodies especially when one of them is a broad-shouldered wolf and the other is a vampire too-damn tall. Judging by the abandoned snack wrappers and the digital solitaire game on her screen this isn’t a post that ends up with many guests.

She leaps to her feet; chair rocketing backwards on rickety wheels to collide with a small space heater loudly. But after catching sight of their captors before she can reach for her holstered weapon — she relaxes.

“The hell, man,” she yanks her chair away from Cal’s mere vicinity. Might be in the wrong business if that’s how she reacts to a wolf, but it’s not his place to comment. “You were only supposed to bring the fighter.”

He pushes between Ryder and Taylor — and Taylor swears he hears something like “you try arguing with these crazy bastards” under the man’s breath — to the only other door at the far end of the post.

“Fuck off.”

“Hope for your sake she’s in a mood for company.”

“I said fuck off.”

Good to know witty workplace banter applies to all occupations; even those of the hired henchman variety.

“Now listen here,” it takes him a second to realize he’s talking to them, now; and beyond monosyllabic orders — it’s a Mardi Gras miracle, “none of you are guests here. So don’t touch nothin’, don’t even look at nothin’. One toe outta line and it won’t end pretty for you.”

He looks pointedly at Cadence then. “No wards to protect you now, bloodsucker.”

But if he hoped to instill some kind of fear he’ll have to try a bit harder. Afraid seems to be the last thing he is — especially when he casually, almost coyly tucks his hair behind his ears and looks at the mortal man over the top of his glasses.

“None to protect you, either.”

And hopefully those threats won’t really be held up because the moment the door opens to a luxurious — and warm, thank the heavens warm — casino floor Taylor looks at every single thing he can. Blatant disregard; living life on the edge.

But who could blame him?

It’s not the same glitz and glamor of Persephone’s main atrium but that doesn’t make the underground treasure any less glittering. Lady Smoke’s Den is swathed in rich violet velvets and polished golden trim; every gemstone in inky black bright enough to catch the reflection of whatever passes nearby.

From the black iron of the gambling tables to the uniform designs on the back of each deck of cards in play there’s no denying the wealth it takes to wind up down here. Where the underbelly of Persephone was filled with rusted metal and bloodstained concrete this place undoubtedly hosts the cream of the crop.

Whether that specific crop is of the poisonous variety, though? Well Ryder is still using a semi-frozen potato as an ice pack so that pretty much says all that needs to be said.

He came here to meet Lady Smoke — without a doubt in his mind she must be some relative of Vera; even in New Orleans their family name is too unique; too ethereal.

But by some twisted hand of fate he doesn’t even have to go that far. Not when he recognizes a sleek pair of black satin gloves nursing a cocktail at the black diamond-encrusted bar across the room.

Two steps forward but someone yanks him still by the back of his collar. Turns to see Cal’s eyebrows raised in incredulity.

“Just ‘cause this place doesn’t look as dangerous as the fights doesn’t mean it ain’t, Taylor,” but his hard, stern tone quickly melts into just plain concern, “come on — you know better than to wander ‘round a place like this.”

“I — I’m not.” Taylor keeps looking back to the bar; keeps his eyes on Vera’s turned back. Refuses to have a repeat of last night at Persephone’s — refuses to let her slip through his fingers again like… like smoke.

“Then what the hell’re you doin’ Rook?” Ryder joins in but it’s hard to take him seriously with his spud pack. Even he looks at it like it offends him — makes quick work of disposing it on a passing silver tray of empty champagne flutes. “You asked me to follow ya on blind faith but the more I’m doin’ that the closer an’ closer I’m gettin’ to taking an injury I ain’t comin’ back from.

“So no more wandering off — not until you come clean about what you and Lady Smoke have in common.”

It’s been fifteen whole seconds and he’s terrified he’s lost her. Or maybe that she was never there to begin with. But even with Ryder snapping his fingers in Taylor’s face to draw back his attention he risks a look — exhales in audible relief when he catches her face in profile as she smiles and makes casual, inaudible conversation with the bartender.

“Her.”

In a reversal of fortune — and while Nik looks up to find just who he’s talking about — Taylor pulls at the side of the leather coat and digs around for the Nighthunter’s phone. “Hey — what — watch the coat!” But he steps just out of arms’ reach protests aside.

Luckily Cal’s on his side; stops Ryder from yanking back what’s his as Taylor quickly dials and holds the phone up to his ear; turns to watch intently as the metallic dialing starts chiming.

Across the floor decked in a rug more expensive than his theater company’s entire yearly budget the tiny digital first keys of the AME theme begin playing. Loud enough to draw an unimpressed frown from the bartender and a look of horrible realization from Vera.

The three men watch as she fumbles around; digs through the inside pockets of her black leather blazer. She procures Taylor’s phone from the left side and looks at the screen of dancing lights like she’s never seen such a miraculous and terrible device before.

Taylor ends the call by flipping the phone closed with a little too much force. At the bartop, Vera’s relief is short lived as the music ends and the screen goes dark. But the shudder that rolls down her spine is large and all-consuming. Makes her look around practically petrified when her gaze finds home on Taylor and his definitely not impressed frown.

“So that’s the girl who has your phone, huh.” Ryder doesn’t have to say it; they both know. She was there. She was there that night, and she ran away, and whether or not the Vera he saw in Persephone’s betting crowd was real she’s very much real here and now.

“What’re the odds?” Cal gives a surprised little laugh. But it’s not his fault; he doesn’t know the whole story.

Taylor, though — he’s starting to think nothing in this town is ever by chance anymore.

“Really, really likely.”

And it’s good to feel like he has support as he marches straight the-fuck up with a werewolf and a Nighthunter at his back.

Where were Cade and Katherine? Okay — okay — one problem at a time.

Only now what’s he supposed to do? Because he kind of wants to slap her — but that isn’t happening. One of those things that’s supposed to stay in the back of the mind and no further.

He could shout; make a scene. But that would make all their pushing and shoving and freezer-standing for nothing. And eventually they will find Cadence and help him out. So… no to that, too.

And it’s all so complicated and hard and makes his stomach twist and turn so finally Taylor just thinks fuck it and says the first thing that comes to mind. Turns out to be something a little more heavy than he’d anticipated but no less important.

“You knew about all this,” he jabs his finger into her shoulder, “about… about everything —”

“Tay, I didn’t —”

“And even if you didn’t know exactly what was happening you had some frickin’ idea.” Now that Vera doesn’t argue against — though she’s only barely biting her tongue and he can see it.

“You did; you had more pieces of the puzzle than us. And knowing that you… you let Krissy and I jump over that wall and to our own damn deaths.”

There’s a startled noise from Cal but that’s all. Taylor can’t quite care in the presence of all the frustration building up; bubbling over.

There’s been a nagging voice in his subconscious threatening him not to cry but Vera’s choked out words make that impossible.

“Is — Is Cookie dead, then?”

Taylor finds himself torn between wiping the tears before they can fall down her cheeks and telling her every. gruesome. detail just to make her cry harder.

“No —” — Vera claps her silken palms over her mouth to stifle a soft sob — “— no she’s not dead. Not yet.”

But she is in a coma; or probably worse. She’s in a strange hospital room in a strange city and she’s suffering untold horrors from that awful grotesque creature’s wicked touch and her two best friends in the entire world are in the same city and still haven’t gone to see her.

They are officially the worst people in this world and the other, preternatural world that borders theirs on the head of a pin.

“I’ll take my phone back now.”

She offers it like an olive branch; maybe he gets a little satisfaction from yanking it from her and shoving it in his jeans.

Then, because he’s mad but he’s not cruel; “I’m glad you’re safe Vera, really.” He opens his arms slightly but waits for her permission for an embrace — remembers what Kristin had said about Vera liking her personal space.

Now though he’s not so certain it’s that simple. He knows a lot more than he did when they first met.

“A-hem.”

They pull apart. Ryder stands with his arms crossed and an expectant tap to his boot. “Are we mad at her or not?”

“We’re…” Taylor and Vera exchange looks and there’s no doubt in his mind that her remorse is genuine. “We’re getting over it.” We, he thinks with a laugh. But doesn’t dare mention it lest Ryder close up more than he already is in this place.

Like he is right now.

“Good. Then maybe you can give us a proper introduction.” He’s zeroed in on her gloves; Cal too, he notices. Whatever has them on edge its more than a simple case of being protective of him. As if they didn’t have enough problems — and enemies — already.

Taylor clears his throat awkwardly; gestures between the meeting of two worlds who seem not to want to meet. “Uhm, okay. Vera, this is Ryder, my, uh, my bodyguard — don’t ask,” thank god she doesn’t, “and this is Cal; he’s a friend. Cal, Ryder; this is —”

“Vera, yeah, we got that,” interrupts the hunter lowly, “though how you came to be so buddy-buddy with Lady Smoke’s kid is my problem at the moment.”

And while Taylor’s brain is still turning rusted gears and starting to smoke with the sheer what the fuckery of Ryder’s accusation — Cal pipes up; “Smoke’s runaway kid, if I’m gettin’ my stories straight.”

Is he getting his stories straight, the look Taylor gives Vera — eyes so wide the whites go all the way around and jaw on a broken repeated hinge of not-quite-open and not-quite-closed — asks.

But that’s nothing compared to the look of utter shame that darkens Vera’s expression; to the way she looks around for listening ears and prying eyes.

“Keep your voices down.”

Ryder sees her buttons and, in classic Ryder fashion, pushes. “Yeah you ain’t gettin’ outta talkin’ that easy.”

She looks around with worry etched into her forehead. Finally lands her eyes on an empty poker table about as far out of the way as possible in the intimate space; half-obscured by a black-tile fountain where water the color of lavender fields bubbles and streams in arcs around an indiscriminate figure. “Fine, fine. Just — not here.”

And the Vera he sees now is definitely not the same young woman he’d met previously. She takes charge easier — less of a babysitting role and more of a… a woman who knows what she wants and asks for it unabashedly. At her call the bartender summons an attendant with bright, catlike yellow eyes that narrow into slits when she’s told to set them up a game at Vera’s preferred table.

Just like at Persephone they stick out like sore thumbs — but unlike at Persephone it doesn’t seem to matter. The attendants are ready to turn their noses up and away but the sight of Vera — the sight of her gloves like some status symbol — has them smiling, crooning; offering hors d'oeuvres more expensive than Taylor’s rent and drinks of all kinds. Even ones Taylor can partake in much to his surprise.

So they may look like they’re engrossed in a game of poker but one would be surprised to discover naught but a clever ruse.

Or at least a ruse on his end. Taylor’s got no living clue what he’s doing. But the cards are nice.

"Was it really you I saw at Persephone last night, Tay?” asks Vera. His nod earns a low whistle. “I figured I was just seeing… well, that you were a spectre of some kind; a manifestation of my guilt in leavin’ you and Cookie high and dry. And you really knew nothing about the supernatural world before y’all were attacked?”

“Since Twilight doesn’t count, yeah — er, no. I didn’t know a thing.”

“When you go in, you go all in, huh?”

If she means it as a joke it doesn’t really come off that way. Just makes him look down at his fancy deck and shrug. “Not exactly by choice.”

“Right. Of course. I’m sorry.”

“For what, though,” pipes up Ryder after downing a long gulp of his beer, “are you sorry for bringin’ it up like a joke or for leavin’ him utterly defenseless?”

“Christ, Nik.”

“Am I wrong, Miss Reimonenq?”

Something tells him the glare exchanged across the cards isn’t the first, nor would it be the last between them.

But Vera takes him by surprise when she shakes her head dejectedly. “No, no you’re not.”

Like a nervous habit Vera tugs at the edges of her gloves; hikes them up higher over her elbows. Cal physically shifts his chair over as she does — like she’s hiding knives and guns in the skin-tight fabric.

“Okay,” Taylor tosses his cards — it was probably a shitty hand anyway — and looks between the locals one by one by one, “usually this is the part where something weird or coincidental happens and I don’t end up having to be the one to ask the stupid questions. But apparently not this time.

“So either someone starts telling me what the heck is up or I start doing dumb shit until my answers come to me freely. And Nik — you know I can do some dumb shit.”

Taylor only adds emphasis because of the hesitation clear in Nik’s frown. The way he looks at Vera as if to get her to do it instead of his usual bravado-riding explanation train.

But neither of them say anything. So Cal leans back and nurses his whiskey with his words.

“Lady Smoke ain’t your average mafia boss, Taylor.”

“Yeah, yeah I got that part. Your brother was in a cell, there were death fights. The guns aimed at us at the Shift. I was there.”

The wolf gives him a little smirk. “Thanks for the reminder. But it ain’t just guns and suits and shady deals with Smoke.”

“Underground casino notwithstanding?”

“Let him finish, Tay.” mumbles Vera; the look she gives Cal is a grateful one. Taylor holds his hands up — mimes zipping his lips.

“The Reimonenqs are an old Quarter family. Y’all’ve even got Laveau on your tree, right?” He nods to Vera. “Certainly been ‘round as long as the Pack, and the only ones older than that are the Lamrian folk.”

“— Local fae colony,” interrupts Nik lowly, “we’ll talk about it later. Just know it was here before the city was even settled.”

“So you’ve got roots here, is that a big thing?” Taylor asks — would rather hear it from her than yet another secondhand account of something else. He’s getting far too many of those.

When Vera finally answers her hands are folded in her lap. The picture of politeness if not for the shining fear in her eyes.

“What you need to understand, Tay, is that the Reimonenq name used’ta belong to all who practiced under the coven. Eventually the coven became jus’ family so it didn’t really matter, but you won’t find anyone born and bred here who doesn’t know the name — and fear it.

“And she’s used that her whole life — my whole life — to build this awful, cruel mockery of an empire.”

“‘She’ being Lady Smoke?”

“Yeah.”

“Lady Smoke being your mother.”

“Yeah.”

“Your mom; Lady Smoke. The big bad everyone talks about like she’s a boogieman story — the woman who sent what basically amounted to hitmen to kidnap our friend for standing up to her and keeping Cal’s brother from getting mauled.”

He’s not saying it to be cruel, though Vera winces at every injustice like she personally signed off on it. Taylor’s just… a little out of his element. More so than usual.

“How many times does the girl gotta tell you, Rook? Yes.” Ryder’s knee knocks against his under the table. It’s enough to draw him from his factual-overload stupor; only just.

“So she’s — what — a witch? Wait — does that make you a witch?”

Witches, werewolves, and vampires; oh my.

Before Vera can open her mouth to answer their game is brought to a halt by the arrival of a familiar suit-clad asshole. And he’s got friends. This time Taylor pays close attention and watches the pain Vera stomachs in order to put on a brave, almost commanding atmosphere.

“We’re a little busy here. And we’d like some privacy.”

The henchman’s upper lip curls at the sight of Ryder — a grimace he only barely tosses aside as he answers Vera; “You can finish up your game of Go-Fish later. Lady Smoke requests your presence, Miss Reimonenq. And the presence of your… guests.”

“She can’t just summon me. I’m not one of her lackeys.”

“That may be — but you are under Lady Smoke’s protection. Or did you forget what you agreed to when you broke onto the floor last night?”

Taylor’s teeth grit painfully. “Back off, you soggy cockwaffle.”

“Tay —” her touch on his arm is gentle; appreciative, if concerned, “— hon’… he’s not wrong, okay? No matter how much I wish he were.”

“So much for bein’ the runaway…” Cal mutters under his breath.

“Lady Smoke doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

And he probably can’t pull his bully-type shit with Vera, not without some serious consequences whether there’s family tension or not, so there’s no missing the sick sense of satisfaction he gets in yanking Taylor’s chair practically out from under him.

Lucky him that Taylor isn’t unfamiliar with childish bullying tactics. He just expected people to grow out of them once they left high school.

Unlike before their goon leads the way rather than corralling them at the back. Gives them the chance to talk in hushed and hurried whispers because they’re being led fast.

“Magic — real magic — is something we’re born with; a gift we can’t give back no matter how badly we want to.” Vera continues hastily; “Yes, I’m a witch. And I ain’t proud of it, not like my mother is. I’ve spent my whole life tryin’ to get away from her and our curse.”

“And that meant running away to New York.”

“I could have run farther but… I refused to let her dictate where I was going to be. How I was going to live my life.”

That’s something he can definitely understand — but Vera’s actions are singing a different tune than her words. “If you hate her so much then why are you here? Why’d you go to her?”

“Because —”

“Because whatever was huntin’ you guys that night scared ya enough to look to the most powerful woman in the city for help.”

Nik doesn’t interrupt with a question — sounds so sure of himself. But Taylor’s ready to hear Vera out, really he is, until she suddenly can’t look him in the eyes.

It had been a whole other side of her; but Taylor had chocked it up to fear. Fear could make people do crazy things — like hide in walled-off cemeteries.

Finally Vera chokes out wetly; “Yes.”

The suit stops them in front of a closed door.

Nik reaches out and grabs Vera — holds fast despite how she jerks away. Leans in to whisper something so quiet Taylor has to step in himself in order to hear it.

“You know what it was, don’t you?”

“I-I —” stammers Vera.

“What was it?”

“I don’t…”

“This ain’t just about you anymore. Now quick, before they —”

“In.”

It’s too late. Judging by Cal’s look of apology he tried his best to give them as much time as they could but the door’s open and they’re out of time.

“We’re not done.” Ryder growls into Vera’s ear; lets her go before the suit decides he doesn’t want to ask a second time. The touch he lands on Taylor’s middle back is far kinder, coaxes him forward and through the awaiting doorway.

He doesn’t have much of a choice but to follow. Still throws a look back to Vera as she wipes away the smallest tear and puts up all the walls she needs to follow them inside.

“You didn’t need to be so harsh.” Taylor hisses at him.

“Sometimes there ain’t much of a choice.”

There was this time, Taylor’s about to say, when the literal fog obscuring the room beyond clears as though it’s been waiting for their arrival to part. Lady Smoke’s a witch, he remembers.

So maybe it was.

The ambiance of the back room is the same as the front — the only difference being the smoke that clings to their ankles and obscures the rug at their feet.

Off to one side a large couch curves in a wide semi-circle. Relief washes over him at the sight of Cadence and Katherine sitting close together with drinks in their hands; the honey-amber of Katherine’s bourbon catches the light in a way the contents of Cadence’s tumbler doesn’t. He’s content not to think too hard about what’s inside.

But for all their supposed relaxation the pair are stiff — tense. Their ease and touching outer thighs more about keeping close for safety rather than enjoyment. Katherine’s smile isn’t her usual teasing; instead rather strained. A grimace wearing an ill-fitting mask.

At the other end of the room rests a large desk — the kind Taylor might imagine a CEO would buy never to use and only to show off. But the papers and folders spread in a kind of organized chaos across the finished wood tell a different story; one of a business that never stops working.

The woman in the high-backed leather chair behind it is Lady Smoke without a doubt. Not just because he can see the resemblance to Vera — a family chin, the creases in her forehead decades ahead of her daughter’s; a living vision of what’s to come — either.

She emanates power in the way Kristof did. Control, dominance by birthright without mistake. The aura of someone who was meant for powerful things from the moment they entered the world; where the only thing left up to choice was how they planned on using it.

The gloves are pretty much a dead giveaway, too. Black lacework on golden fabric. She matches the den outside the way the sun matches the solar system; she sits at its heart and lets the rest revolve around her because it has no choice.

An unnervingly familiar wheeze of a voice catches him off-guard; probably for the best with the way he was staring.

“Well well well, justice for Meerl!”

Meerl cuts a scrawny figure between them and Lady Smoke. Tap-tapping his long claw-like nails together with the same smarmy grin as last night — only this time with a harsh red line of purpling pressure around his skinny throat.

Beside Taylor, Ryder’s laugh is nothing short of utterly shameless. “Nice choker you got there, Meerl. It’s a great look on you, really.”

His laughter incites a bloated face of rage in the con-goblin. “You mock Meerl?!”

“Was I not bein’ obvious about it?”

“Pissy—pissface—pissant Nighthunter! Meerl will—!”

“He will do nothing until he is told.”

There’s a touch of gravel to Lady Smoke’s voice. She doesn’t shout because she doesn’t have to — because the moment her lips part the only thing that matters is what she has to say.

Especially to Meerl given the way he backs off, cowers like his nightmares are coming to life.

It must be a reputation thing, Taylor concludes. Because she’s definitely the more-badass-and-less-fictional version of Don Corleone — no doubt. But for nothing but a sentence to get that kind of reaction? It’s almost satirical.

“Meerl apologizes, Lady Smoke,” the urchin cowers with every word, “the Lady knows Meerl does nothing Meerl is not told to do.”

But he might as well be talking to thin air the way she addresses him. Not at all. Because he’s no longer important to her — for the moment at least. Not now that Vera steps up from behind Taylor while the door closes behind them.

Immediately Smoke’s face softens; a shine in her eye, what she probably thinks is tender warmth in her half-smile. What people who can’t love must think love looks like as an expression.

“Vera, baby girl, you —”

The nickname makes Vera cringe. “I told you not to call me that.” She’s probably the only person who could get away with interrupting the mob boss and leave alive.

“Vee —”

“No, mother; no names but my own.”

Smoke’s brow twitches but her frustration is well-corralled. “Very well, Vera.”

“Where do you get off on demandin’ to see me like this? Or makin’ your wardens bully my friends into coming with?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were friends with the troublemakers at Persephone?”

There’s nothing familial about their exchange but Smoke still manages to make Vera feel like a scolded child. Ducked head and eyes searching for a spot on the carpet — but hindered by the fog.

“You know I don’t like non-answers, Vera.” Smoke presses, but Vera doesn’t yield. Earns them all a heavy sigh while Smoke leans forward and folds her hands together atop an open date book. “Lucky for you, girl, I know all I need to on account of how helpful our friend Meerl has been.

“See, he knew I’d take care of everything — but I can’t fix what I don’t know is broke. And would you believe he was the only one to tell me about the unfortunate situation of the fights before morning?”

The goblin practically preens — likely taking her words as praise.

“The Lady knows Meerl only wants what is best for the Lady’s business, of course.”

“Especially if it keeps his ugly hide from getting flayed alive?”

The haughtiness of Ryder’s tone doesn’t have an ounce of remorse. Not even when it drags the almost golden-yellow of Lady Smoke’s eyes to him. Resting with the full weight of her frustration just below the poised surface.

“You never cease to surprise, do you Mister Ryder?” she croons.

“‘Dunno what you’re talkin’ about; predictable’s my middle name.”

“If that were the case you wouldn’t have been waist-deep in my affairs at Persephone.”

“And here I thought I was building a reputation for stickin’ my nose in other peoples business.”

“This ain’t just anyone’s business, though, is it?”

It hasn’t occurred to Taylor until just now that Kristof and the Jensen Pack may not be the only big-wigs in New Orleans that Ryder has crossed. Luckily it seems like a distant familiarity though. A mutual respect; and an unspoken threat on both sides to stay out of one another’s way.

And now Ryder’s gone and drawn first blood — er, well, metaphorically speaking.

Oh this could be bad. This could be very very bad.

Only the ice in her tone seems to have the opposite of the intended effect. Makes Ryder stand up straighter with his jaw clenched tight, his words a snarl that makes even Cal blink in surprise.

“If I’d a’known you were in the business of pimpin’ out kids for your cash fights, Smoke, I would’ve gotten involved a lot sooner. You can bet on that.”

The color drains out of Vera’s cheeks. Catches her torn between looking at her mother for any kind of denial and, finding none, unable to face the truth without feeling like she’s about to wretch.

“Momma, you didn’t…”

“Don’t you start that now, Vera.”

“But a kid?”

Smoke stands with her fingertips spread and pressed into her desk. Her sigh carries a visible weight in her shoulders. It’s heavy for sure but if it isn’t the burden of guilt then whatever she’s feeling means fuck-all to him.

“The Lowell boy was betting with money that wasn’t his. On top of that — he thought he could swindle my hard-earning regulars without consequence. Sometimes they have to learn young.

“You’d know that, baby girl, if you hadn’t left.”

Tears well up, misting over Vera’s eyes. But its an incredible feat of willpower that keeps her from shedding them — that lets her choke them down. Certainly not the first, and likely not the last.

“Don’t you dare play it off like you were trying to parent my kid brother.” Only then does Lady Smoke actually notice Cal. Cal with his face flush with fury and canines bared; Cal with his eyes as yellow as the gold the mob boss wraps herself in.

“Mister Ryder; I suggest you rein your feral friend in a tad.”

Nik throws his hands up. “No way.”

There’s a very well in the roll of her eyes. Has her walking around her desk with a lush black velvet cape trailing at her modest heels.

“You must be Cal.”

“What the hell gave you that idea?”

“Then I will tell you the same thing I told your fledgling con artist brother. It’s an old saying — perhaps you’ve heard of it. Don’t do the crime if you can’t do the time.”

Smoke stands there, haughty and higher than them all — even as Cal roars “You callous bitch!” and makes for her ready to draw blood. And a lot of it.

Whatever witchy-mojo she has must be fucking powerful even if Taylor can’t feel it. All it takes is Smoke’s raised hand and even Nik holds his breath.

“You had posters,” the wolf seethes, “locked him in a cage like he was an animal!”

“Your brother had racked up quite a debt.”

“He’s just a boy!”

“Enough!”

When the gloves come off — literally in Lady Smoke’s case — all hell breaks loose.

Taylor looks around wildly, feels himself being pulled back on two sides — catches the first and likely only time Vera and Nik are of the same mind. Backing him up against a wall-length bookshelf so hard he knocks a few volumes on their sides.

For the first time since they arrived Cadence is sprung to action. Holds Cal back with a firm hand but keeps his distance from the witch and her exposed skin. The same look of cautious fear in his eyes as he had in the cage.

And at the couch, their drinks forgotten and seeping into the rich upholstery, Katherine aims a familiar-looking gun dead between Smoke’s eyes. Completely disregarding the also-familiar sister weapons now aimed at her from across the room.

Now would be the opportune moment for the main character to leap out in the middle of the fray and convince everyone to calm down; to shout “Nobody needs to get hurt tonight — we’re all on the same side!” or some other amount of crap that would be the bare minimum in getting everyone to see the bigger picture.

Ha — no thanks. No way is he getting mixed in with a vampire who tore a Minotaur to shreds, more guns than should legally be allowed in the same room, and whatever danger Smoke’s manicure ignites.

Nope. See, the best he can figure is there’s a reason Vera and Nik were so hasty to pull his only-a-threat-after-a-ton-of-spicy-food ass out of the crossfire. And that’s good enough for him.

Only when everyone’s stayed statuesque-still for the better part of a minute does Cadence pull back — away from Lady Smoke, eying her palms with the same look Vera’s giving the guns.

“Enough,” he repeats and is no less forceful, “enough of this, Tonya. You force me here, you force others — innocents — here, all for this flagrant abuse of your power? I settled the Lowell pup’s debt. You and I are even and he’s out of your cross-hairs.”

“So you’ve been saying, Smith,” — so why doesn’t she sound like she’s content to agree? — “but I don’t recall agreeing to your commerce de dettes. As it is not the place of they who owe to decide what is suitable payment.”

“You may be speaking of Dominic Lowell, but the same could be said for you.”

Smoke curls her fingers in the air; reminds Taylor of spider legs.

But Cadence has to be right or she’d have thrown back a snide retort instead of the silent treatment given.

Finally she speaks but her answer is strained. “We never outlined the terms and conditions of that particular contract.”

“Because I know better than to get something in writing with you. I may not know much but I certainly know that.”

“I cannot let this abide, Smith. Actions must be made; consequences for those who would publicly challenge the safety I provide this town —”

Maybe there’s more for her to say but she doesn’t get the chance. Not at the disgusted noise that comes off to Taylor’s right — nor the bewildered look Lady Smoke throws their way. Only when she throws up her pointed finger like a gun instead of a stern mother’s tool does Vera make the noise again.

“‘Safety,’” now she actually sounds the part of the witch, too, with her curled upper lip and fists trembling at her sides, “you’re gonna dare stand there in front’a me and call New Orleans safe? After what I told you was after me?!”

Taylor’s glad he’s between them when Ryder turns a murderous flush of violet.

“Now is not the time to air our family grievances, Vera.”

“You did know.” Taylor whispers. Loud enough for Vera to hear, to flinch and hug her arms around herself. Looking the same measure of scared and young and vulnerable as she did that night. “You—you do. Know; what it is. You know.”

She nods.

“Why didn’t you say?” When Ryder asked, when we locked eyes under Persephone, before Kristin and I jumped over the wall and to our deaths. “Why didn’t you help?”

“I didn’t wanna be right.”

Tonya raises her voice, tries to speak over her daughter. “Vera, this is not the way.”

“How the hell would you know, mom?!” she lashes out a sob, “You’re content to hide here and pretend everyone’s safe when they aren’t?!”

“You’re safe, baby girl, that’s all I care about.”

“Well I ain’t that selfish.”

It’s taking everything in her to not choke; lose her nerve. “If I’d known you spent all this time thinking it was after you, Taylor, I’d’ve told you sooner. I swear I didn’t mean for Cookie to get hurt — you neither. I thought when I split that you’d be safe.”

“Wait — back up. You think this thing is after you?” Nik interrupts, surprised.

“Not another word Vera Claire Reimonenq, so help me God.”

Ice-cold demeanor finally melted, some version of the real Tonya Reimonenq shines through in the crack in her voice. In the way she bites her bottom lip so hard it might burst like the vein in her temple might burst.

Taylor just doesn’t get why everyone is suddenly so freaked out about the way her hand is held aloft at Cadence’s neck. One deep bob of his Adam’s Apple away from choking the life out of the undead.

Katherine the opportunist takes the stunned pause to aim instead at Vera. Passes the barrel of the gun over Taylor’s chest and this is now officially too many times in the same week his life has flashed before his eyes and been less-than satisfying.

“Back. off. Smoke.” The huntress orders.

Cadence resists swallowing — painfully so.

Time to finally take the hint and get as scared as the rest of them it seems.

“You even think about pulling that trigger — you know what I’ll do to him.”

Katherine’s laugh is an unfeeling thing. Like a whole different woman stands before them — someone used to carrying the gun, to doing what needs to be done.

“And the payday of a lifetime goes down the drain, sure,” but her finger doesn’t stop caressing just shy of the pressure point, “but I’ll always find another. Don’t think the same can be said about a daughter, though.”

“Katherine —”

“Shut up, Nik. I let you do your stupid shit. My turn.”

Taylor’s one stupid heroically-inclined thought from stepping in front of Vera when she speaks up; “Stop it, momma. Just — stop it. Too many people been hurt already.

“Too many more’ll be, too, if we don’t try to get help.”

“You think they’ll help us? The whole city will turn their backs on us — make sure we’re the ones who suffer instead of them!”

“You don’t know that! You don’t know them!”

“Stop being so damn naive!”

Voices, tensions rising. Arms wavering with the weight of their weapons and sweat beading like the first of so many bullets down everyone’s backs; their brows.

It’s not the heroic, main character thing to say but that doesn’t stop Taylor from feeling really good about it when he finally shouts —

“Will someone please just say what the literal flippity fuck is out there?!”

“A bloodwraith!”

The way Vera covers her mouth he half expects to see blood dripping down her chin to stain her blouse. Her tongue bit off as divine — or supernatural — retribution for her admission.

Not that that’s the case. In fact he’s left feeling a little bit like he was denied some grand climax.

So he does what he always does — because this other, darker world seems to exist to make him look absolutely ridiculous in how little he knows — he looks to Nik for the textbook entry he’s missing.

“And a ‘bloodwraith’ would be…?”

“Trouble, Rook…”

Lady Smoke’s pulling her gloves back on. The gun hangs limp at Kathy’s side. Even the biggest bully of the henchmen looks ready to wet himself. There’s nothing reassuring about Cadence’s slow nod of realization — the way the natural enemies vampire and werewolf share a look of ‘well hell.’

Sometimes it’s not a rallying cry that gets opposing forces to work together. Sometimes fear is more than enough.

And the way Nik pulls him in close, hugs him with one strong arm like he’s already a dead man walking? That’s… uh… that’s pretty damn fearful.

“— It’s really, really big trouble.”

#nightbound #choices nb #playchoices #nik ryder #cal lowell #nik ryder x mc #vera reimonenq #katherine nightbound #oc: cadence smith #nightbound mc #mc: taylor hunter #oblv: bound by circumstance #oblv: new chapter #; my fics

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mysteriouslyswimmingfan-blo-blog · 6 years ago

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The Batman x Reader Ep.1 THE BAT IN THE BELFRY

I’ve never done an xReader before, but I’ve always wanted to. So this is my attempt at an xReader.

It is mainly based off of The Batman, meaning most of it will be pulled directly from the show itself and the reader will just be inserted. This is where you can find the series. Some parts will be removed while others added, please watch the show and understand that I am taking things from the show directly.

Please be kind to me when you leave your thoughts on how I did.

*Line Break Inc.*

You hear Rupert Thorne breath heavily as Bruce hid in the shadows, causing the mobster a scare. “He’s here.” Thorne breath out in anticipation, his voice barely being picked up by Bruce’s mic.

You always feel better with his mic turned up all the way so you could hear what was going on while he crusaded around Gotham, so in case anything were to happen, either you or Alfred would be able to respond immediately.

“Where, Mr. Thorne?” One thug with a terrible scratch to his throat, you felt bad for his throat and felt like you should send that thug some cough drops.

The next few moments were confused sounds and soft thuds as Bruce continued to mess with the mobsters.

“There! I-I I saw him!” Oh, Thorne just sounded plain desperate at this pointed, thinking he himself have gone crazy.

“Wha…What’s that?” You started to type into the batcomputer looking up that thug’s name and where you could send some cough drops to. A louder thud this time, something was dropped.

“Take him!” Thorne had demanded his lackeys. You just roll your eyes as you continue to find information on the thugs, apparently there is two of them there. Turning away from the computer once you have sent in the requests of two bags of cough drops to be sent to them, you turn back to the pile of essays that you have to read and grade.

Sounds of Bruce fighting two lackeys that have not had his training, and are such easily taken down, come through as you mark up one essay.

“Okay… uhhh, we split the take 30, 70.” Thorne sounded nervous.

You smirk as you write something on another essay, “Only thirty percent?” You made a noise of disapproval. “Drop his ass.” You could physically feel Bruce restrain himself from smirking.

Your heard Thorne gasp out before stuttering over his second offer. “50, 50.”

“Weak!” You called to no one, not even paying attention to the comm feed anymore trusting Bruce to wrap things up from that point.

Thud from landing and panting from running was heard as Bruce most likely had to pursue the mobster. A loud impact was heard over the comm before Rupert Thorne moaned out, “Whoa… How you do that?”

“I’m the Batman.”

You started laughing at Bruce’s response.

“‘I’m the Batman.’” You laughed some more at your pour intimidation of Bruce’s dubbed ‘Batman’ voice, “Were you trying to intimidate the guy?”

“Yes.” Bruce sounded like he was deeply offended, but you just couldn’t stop laughing.

You had been with Bruce for two years and had been helping him with the whole capped crusader for the past year. A chance meeting had turned into so much more.

You had taken a deep breath as you start to clean up the essay’s scattered around the desk leaving Bruce to drive home in quiet, so he didn’t run over anything or anyone. You were surprised by Alfred placing a cake with three candles on it on one end of the desk. Raising an eyebrow in questioning Alfred simply held a finger to his lips and turned around, hiding the cake from view when Bruce rolled in.

Bruce came up the pole and took off his cowl, smiling at the two of you.

“Surprise.” The first word out of the butler’s mouth. Alfred lead Bruce over to the cake, only adding to both of your confusions.

“I’m touched Alfred. But my birthday is not until October.” Bruce spoke the truth. He was 26 when he became the Batman, and when he met you, Bruce had only just turned 29.

“It’s an anniversary, Master Bruce. 3 years ago, tonight, you first dawned cape and cowl.” The father figure of your lover’s life explained to the two you with disbelief, most likely because neither of you remembered.

“Crime flies.” You mumble as you snuggle into Bruce’s side while you both looked at the three burning candles.

“Chop Chop. Make a wish.”

Bruce stood there for a moment before attempting, “I wish…” He didn’t seem to be able to get them out the first time, so he tried again. “I wish…” Only to meet with the same results. Instead he closed his eyes and hugged you a little closer.

“I wish they were here too. Very much so.” Alfred spoke from the other side with his hand on Bruce’s shoulder.

“To the memory of Thomas and Martha Wayne.” Bruce leaned forward blowing out the candles. “The reason I became the Batman.”

*Line Break Inc.*

“Chief Rojas, can you verify rumors that it was the Batman that apprehended crime boss, Rubert Thorn and his gang last night?” You paused in getting ready to leave for work, a proud high school English teacher, to take in what the police had to say about last night.

“Do you know of anyone who actually seen this Batman?” The Chief of police actually had the audacity to put finger quotes around ‘Batman’. You leaned over the back of the couch that Bruce sat on eating his breakfast.

“I uhm…” The reporter fumbled for an answer.

“Because he’s what’s called an “Urban Legend”.” Those dang finger quotes once more.

“Why that cheeky…” Both you and Bruce looked over to Alfred with slightly raised eyebrows. “Brand flakes sir.” Alfred leaned over and poured more into Bruce’s bowel.

“Easy Alfred. The Batman is right where he likes, hovering below the radar.”

“You never did like taking the spotlight for yourself.” You leaned over even more to give Bruce a kiss on the cheek while the news continued on.

“Well there you have it. In only 3 years time, our crime rate has plummeted to a nationwide low. Thanks to Gotham’s finest. Back to you, Jim.”

“Next up, Billionaire Bruce Wayne contributes an unprecedented sum to Gotham Children’s Hospital.” Bruce held up a hand which you automatically slapped, all without looking at one another. “And in Sports, Gators kick off a new season with tonight’s home game.” Bruce turned the TV off, allowing you to finish getting ready for work, and Bruce to start getting ready.

“Which billionaire Bruce Wayne and his girlfriend (Y/N) (Y/LN) will be there to enjoy.” Bruce set his bowl down as Alfred held out two tickets. “Your season tickets, sir and madam.”

“Ohh, tonight? Aw, but I had…” Bruce started to whine like causing you to straighten your back and fold your arms over your chest.

“Work to do in the Batcave?” Bruce looked behind him to you.

“For the Batman to remain under the radar, Bruce Wayne must occasionally venture above it.” Alfred spoke before Bruce could retaliate.

The billionaire sighed before looking back to you, “Pick you up from your apartment or the academy?”

“My apartment will do just fine.” You gave him a smile and a quick peck on the cheek before finishing getting ready for work.

*Line Break Inc.*

“You know,” Bruce leaned over to whisper into your ear while you tried to make sense of the game. Sports are not a specialty of yours. “I once toyed with the idea of buying the Gators.” You turned your head ever so slightly with a single raised eyebrow, waiting for the punch line. “Buying them lunch.”

“Weak.” You look back to the game while Bruce gave the most offended sounds.

“That is some of my best stuff.”

“Then you need,” You were interrupted by a beeping from his suit coat pocket. You bit your lip and looked over to Bruce who looked at the phone like item. “to be the bat?”

“Major Arkham breakout, all cells in the east wing.” Bruce didn’t look up until he finished speaking. Bruce put the item away and put his arm back around your shoulders. “I can look at the evidence after the police have left, like usual.”

“Bruce, it’s Arkham. The police aren’t going to leave anytime soon.”

“All the better to wait after the game.” A moment of silence came between the two of you before Bruce stood up and held his hand out to you. “The camera just rolled over us, Alfred knows that we were here. So does most of Gotham.”

“Time to be the bat then, I guess.” The two of you smirk at each other before you take his hand and sneak out of the game together.

The two of you got into the alleyway connected to the building, you called the bike while Bruce called the car. The motorcycle stopped right in front of you while the car almost ran over Bruce. “Gotta work on though stops.” You rolled your eyes and went to change behind a dumpster while Bruce changed in the batmobile. Your emergency suit, worn only when Bruce needed a pickup, is skintight and has a marble effect of navy blue and silver.

Just as you are about to put your helmet on you walk over the batmobile and tap on its window. Bruce opens the top, already in his suit and buckled, ready to drive off. You give him a chaste kiss on the lips and said against his lips, “Come back to me alive.”

While you walked back to the batbike you put the helmet on. Sadly no comm in the helmet so you don’t have a chance to talk with Bruce as he heads to Arkham and you to the Batcave.

You get back to the batcave and turn on the comm just in time for you to hear Bruce comment, “That was theatrical.”

“What was?” You asked while changing back into your date clothes. A white off the shoulder shirt with bell sleeves, blue skinny jeans and nude sandal heels, one of your more favored date outfits.

“Someone just blew up the bridge to Arkham, not allowing the police over to prison.”

“Someone wants to be alone.”

The two of you were quite while Bruce slipped through Arkham without alerting the police outside. At the same time you sat the computer working through Arkham’s system to get to the security cameras so you could see everything.

“Takes after his Pa wouldn’t you say?” You heard a new voice over the comm.

“Who is that?” You abandone hacking into the system to focus on Bruce and whoever it is that he is confronting.

“What did you do to him?” Bruce asked instead.

“Just some laughing gas, drag. Don’t tell me you’re… not an inmate? What rational being dresses like you? And speaking of threads, think that this is a good look for me?”

“Who are you?”

“Finally asking the right questions.” You mumble as you get back to the task of hacking into the system. Which is taking longer than necessary, while your father worked IT your whole life and taught you how to fix just about any problem a computer could be having, he never taught you how to hack into another computer or system that wasn’t right in front of you.

“Joker.”

“Not what, Who?” Bruce argued, his patience running thin.

“Smear free. It’s perma-clown! Ohh, tough crowd. Look! Nothing up my sleeves!” The Joker is mentally twisted. You can tell just by the way that he chuckles. “Nothing that won’t put a smile on your face. Say cheese!” The Joker’s pure laugh was worse than his chuckle. “I’m out of gas…”

“And I am out of patience!” You heard something rip and you just hopped that it wasn’t anything important.

“We know how to spoil a coming out party. How do you expect me to spread mirth and whimsy without a proper hideout?!?”

“Bats, he needs help. Like real help and not the kind that Arkham offers.” You had finally gotten through the system and are now looking through the cameras trying to find the one with Bruce and the Joker.

“Listen Joker, you’re sick. You need help.”

“Well, maybe I am a little off.” You heard grunts and a thud like a body landing on the ground. Just as the Joker started speaking once more you found the right camera. “But what are you going to do? Lock me in the loony bin? I’m already here!” No audio from the cameras, but you have audio from the comms, so you weren’t worried, too badly.

You watched Bruce get up and start to fight the Joker.

“You know, I really love this place. My old hideout a shamble, and these digs just scream me!” They stopped for a moment letting you listen to the Joker pant and Bruce breath heavier, like he just finished a workout. “Okay…Take back the asylum but mark my words: this town has happy days ahead!” You had followed the fight through the cameras and had followed the Joker the same way until the cameras had stopped working and you weren’t able to follow him anymore.

“Smile Gotham!” You hear the Joker’s voice and you leap back through the cameras until landing on the one with Bruce, only to find him laying on the ground with some sort of contraption in the hallway.

“Cameras went out a few hallways down and I can’t track him anymore.” You sigh while leaning back into the chair.

“I’m headed back to the cave. With some evidence.”

“I’ll see if I can get Alfred to warm up some dinner for us.”

“Play a bit of buffer for me?”

“Get him use to the thought that we both skipped out the game and that you have evidence that we’ll be going over tonight and possibly tomorrow.”

You stand up and go up to the manor, receive a lecture from Alfred and help him make two plates, one for you and one for Bruce. When you both had gotten back to the cave Bruce was already back with someone on the gurney.

“Sir? A stranger in the Batcave?” Alfred spoke for the two of you, but once you had seen his face you dropped the plates you were holding for yourself and Bruce before covering your mouth with your hands. The feeling of bile in your throat. The mans face stretched to the extreme with a sick smile that had stretched his lips so wide and big they were bleeding, and his eyes, the pupils were barely there, so much of them were white.

“Tonight, we’ll make an exception.” Bruce walked away from the body and over to you, wrapping you up in a hug hiding the body from your view.

“Oh my, chap could use a dentist.” You wanted to smack Alfred for that comment.

“Or a medic.” Bruce looked over to Alfred.

“Right then.” Sounded like Alfred regretted his comment after seeing your state, thankfully enough.

Bruce walked you into the manor and into your bedroom where he took your shoes off and helped you lay down before quickly changing in the bathroom and joining you in bed, wrapping you up in his arms, seemingly to protect you from the world.

*Line Break Inc.*

“Chief Rojas, any suspects yet on this bizarre Jack in the Box hostage incident?” You and Bruce were listening to the news on the radio. Your head in his lap and his finger carding through your hair. You were taking the Saturday to just relax and not fret over the body down in the cave, which you will not be going down to until the body is gone. And Bruce was still working on the case, thankfully outside of the cave.

“I’m not at liberty to reveal whom.” You heard the chief say over the radio.

“They have no leads.” You mumble out being put to sleep by Bruce’s fingers.

“But, I feel confident our best detectives are closing in on them as we speak.”

You heard the radio turn off before you heard Alfred speak, “And Gotham Gator fans Bruce Wayne and (Y/N) (Y/LN) with nearly an alibi.”

“How’s our patient?” Bruce asked about the body instead of commenting on their absences at the game.

“Despite the ghastly grimace, fit as a fiddle. Poor fellow is simply a prisoner in his own body.”

“A sample of Joker’s Gas is our only hope of deriving an antidote. And I need to find it, before this madman puts a permanent smile on all of Gotham.” Bruce didn’t speak for a moment, his fingers stopping in your hair causing you to wake up and look up at him. “If I find the old hideout, I find this Joker.”

Just as you open your mouth to give him hope, Alfred spoke up. “Master Bruce, someone to see you.” You sit up as Bruce asks who it is, the door to the personal family room opened revealing Detective Ethan Bennet, one of the leading detective’s in the GCPD. “The police.” Alfred spoke in the most obvious of tones, some reason feeling the need to announce Detective Bennet’s presence though they all could see him.

“Detective, am I under arrest?” Bruce stood up first hiding the card he was looking at in his back pocket. You stood up as well and grabbed onto the arm that had put the card in his pocket. It was a tense moment before Ethan started laughing and the face you had pulled at the police officer.

“Yo Bruce!” Ethan, Bruce’s best friend since high school. The same high school that you currently teach at.

“Hey! Ethan!” You release Bruce so the two of them could do their strange man hug.

“Where’d you been my friend?” The detective had released Bruce and held him at arm’s length.

Thankfully Alfred answered before either Bruce or your self could fumble out an answer. “Master Bruce and Madam (Y/N) were at the game last night.”

“Speaking of, thought we were on set to shoot some hoops last week.” Ethan faked a punch to Bruce’s shoulder which Bruce dodged and faked one of his own.

“You’re not the only one that he’s skipping out on plans on.” Ethan stopped their fake boxing match and looked over at you for a moment before doubling over in laughter.

“You said that you’d never do that to (Y/N)!” He cackled some more, causing a not fond, fresh memory of the Joker’s laughter. “But here you are! Skipping out on (Y/N)! (Y/N) man! The woman you literally have never shut up about.” Ethan had wrapped an arm around Bruce’s neck and brought his head down so Ethan could rub his knuckles against Bruce’s head.

“Hey, what happens on the court stays on the court.” Bruce was annoying good at that whining thing.

“We never agreed to what was said on the court.”

“Well we should!”

“Not in this lifetime!” Bruce had gotten Ethan’s arm from around his neck just as Alfred came back with a tray of three mugs, emanating steam, and a brush.

You took the brush and helped Bruce straighten out his hair while Bruce took both of your mugs and waited for you to finish with his hair before moving. He gave you your mug just as you handed the brush back to Alfred. The butler placed the brush on the tray and handed Ethan his own mug.

The three walked over to the chairs and couches, on the way Bruce asked, “So, why the sudden visit?”

“Not that we are complaining.” You reassured Ethan while sitting next to Bruce on one of the couches.

Ethan sat on the chair next to Bruce before leaning back into it with a sigh. “Just, I needed to talk to someone. Other than the guys at the station I mean. This is going to sound weird Bruce, but last night, I saw the Batman.” Across the room Alfred had dropped a vase shattering it on the ground causing you three to look over to see if he was okay.

“Only a Ming.” Alfred told the three of you. “And no, Madam (Y/N), I do not need help.” You pouted as you picked your mug off of the coffee table and took an annoying loud sip from it.

“So, he’s for real? What does he look like?” Bruce looked back to Ethan while patting your knee.

“Dude like you or me. ‘Cept he wears Bat jammas.” You hid your snickers in your mug while Ethan got to openly chuckle. “Tough part’s this Bruce, I really believe the Bats helping Gotham. Even if he is on the wrong side of the law, but he is getting a bad rap and the heats on me to take him down.” A moment of silence washed over the three of you, you tried to think of ways to help your boyfriend best friend. A glance at a picture frame on the coffee table had you smiling.

“Why don’t you two go play a few rounds of HORSE in the back?” You gave the two of them a gentle smile while taking Bruce’s mug from him and placed it on the coffee table. The two men looked to one another before racing to the backyard.

*Line Break Inc.*

The next day you were driving in your car on your way to meet up with a friend, after having spent the night at your own apartment not being able to be in the Manor and not be in the Batcave with Alfred and that body, listening to the news as the reporter talked about a hot air balloon in the sky last night over Gotham. The reporter went on to say the culprit was caught in Gotham Bay and was now serving time in Arkham.

Once you reached the park you were meeting your friend in, you looked to your phone seeing that you have received a text from Bruce.

BW: I missed you last night. Still do, and I wish you have a safe day.

(You): I missed you too. Just being in the Manor and in our room when you’re out crusading, doesn’t sit right with me. Even then I didn’t really sleep last night. I didn’t know for a fact that you had gotten back alive and safe. I am glad that you are alive to see another day.

BW: You called it our room.

(You): Don’t you have a meeting or something?

BW: On a Sunday?

You didn’t text him back once you saw your friend and the picnic that they had laid out. You can continue to argue with your boyfriend, once you have spent time with your friend.

*Line Break Inc.*

Mean while in Arkham Asylum. A guard, the same one that fell victim to the Joker Gas, was walking down a hallway checking rooms. “Steiner... Check… Mcswang… Check... 223… New Arrival… Check.”

Joker gave a laugh before speaking, though the guard had already moved on. “They all said I was sick in the head. They said, “I needed help.” Well, maybe I am a bit batty. Blame it on the Bats in my Belfry.” The Joker gave his trademark laugh, even though he is locked up tight.

#batman #batman x reader #the batman #bruce wayne x reader #bruce x reader #bruce wayne #x reader #bruce wayne x you

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