#and the last line of the chapter was 'the last thing id wanna do was devour her'

[neonsbian]

WAIT i think this book might actually be gay

[notiddygxthgf]

4. Taste Like Nicotine

★ pairings: aki hayakawa x fem reader

★ ❝ Go back to Himeno. ❞ ❝ No. That's not what you want. ❞

★ c.w.: suggestive themes, drinking (more content warnings and tags)

★ a/n: HELLO AGAIN MY POOKIE DOOKIES!! IM BACK AGAIN. bc i have nothing better to do atm and i wanted to give yall a lil sum sum before i moved away to uni. please excuse the pacing of this chapter -- this fanfic was supposed to be a oneshot and uh... now its 160 pages in google docs LMFAOOA.. things get spicy in this chapterrr! so yeah anyway, you know the drill, keep me entertained -- keep your funny little comments coming, I absolutely love reading them. You guys motivate me to keep going! Love yall

★ w.c.;4.1k

shameless ; chapter index

THE OFFICE WAS QUIET, the hum of fluorescent lights and the occasional rustling of papers the only sounds that broke the silence. You were alone, finishing up some last-minute paperwork after hours. The mission had gone surprisingly well—no casualties, a rare feat in your line of work. The team had even managed to kill a large Devil containing a piece of Gun Devil Flesh, a significant victory. Yet, instead of joining the others to celebrate, you had chosen to stay behind. Partly to avoid any awkward encounters with Himeno, but mostly because you felt restless, unable to shake off the events of the past few days.

As you finished up the last of your reports, you glanced at the new message on your phone.

HIMENO| you didn't come tonight.

Typing...

YOU

| I didn't think you'd wanna see me after the stunt I pulled.

HIMENO| I dont, but I wanted u to know that everyone is talking abt u

YOU

| ??

| wym

HIMENO

| your shadow didn't come tonight, either.

Typing...

YOU| look, himeno, ive actually been wanting to talk to you about that

| would you be able to meet up and talk it out?

HIMENO| id rather not honestly.

| ur a grown woman and i cant stop u from doing what u want

| but just know that people in pb. safety talk

| dont mess up a relationship with a perfectly good man for aki

| u should leave him for someone who can actually give him what he needs

YOU| I understand that I've hurt you, Himeno, and I'm sorry

| I have no intentions of being with Aki.

HIMENO| good

| dont get him mixed up in ur fucked up marriage

|  he doesnt deserve that.

You sighed, pocketing your phone. There were certain battles you simply couldn't win. This would undoubtedly be one of them.

It was late, and you knew you should head home. You gathered your things and made your way down the dimly lit hallways, your footsteps echoing in the emptiness.

As you passed the breakroom, you heard voices. One familiar voice, more specifically.

You slowed your pace, not wanting to intrude but curious enough to catch a snippet of the conversation. The door was slightly ajar, and you could see two figures inside.

"You look desperate, dude," the unknown person said, barely audible. "It's not attractive."

"I'm becoming ridiculous," Captain Hayakawa said, his voice low and strained. "I'm losing hope."

"Hope of what? Convincing a married woman to break her vows?" the other person retorted, a hint of incredulity in his tone.

Are they talking about me? You asked. You knew the answer. You simply did not want to confront it.

Hayakawa sighed. "I thought she would call me by now," he admitted, the vulnerability in his voice making your stomach churn uncomfortably. "I just... there was something there."

There was a pause, then the other person sighed, his voice softening. "God, you are ridiculous." After a moment, he added, almost reluctantly, "Shit, sorry, man. I know you like her."

"No, you're right," He replied, a note of resignation following his words. "She doesn't want to speak to me. I'm driving myself crazy waiting for someone who's never gonna call."

You felt a knot tighten in your stomach, guilt and confusion swirling together. You hadn't intended to eavesdrop, but now you couldn't just walk away without feeling a pang of something—regret, perhaps? The slip of paper with his number, still in your possession, weighed heavily in your mind. You had been avoiding the situation, avoiding him, and now it was clear how much it had affected him.

Aki's words echoed in your ears as you stood frozen in the hallway.

He was right; you hadn't called him. You hadn't even acknowledged the note, too caught up in your own turmoil and guilt to consider his feelings. Now, hearing him speak so openly, you felt a rush of emotions—sympathy, guilt, confusion. There had been a moment between you, an undeniable spark, but you had chosen to ignore it, to pretend it didn't exist.

When would it all come crashing down – your efforts? This whole situation?

The conversation in the breakroom continued, but you couldn't listen any longer. You turned away, your heart pounding. As you made your way to the exit, you couldn't help but replay Aki's words in your mind.

He had been waiting for you, hoping you would reach out, and now he was losing hope. Fuck.

He had been waiting for me.

The idea thrilled you, for some strange reason. Maybe because you hadn't felt desired like this in years – it made your head spin. But another part of you was terrified—of what it might mean, of the complications it would bring, of the impact on your marriage.

You couldn't help yourself. You did what you always did. You ran away from him.

You knew you couldn't avoid him forever, but for now, you needed time to think. .

7:45 PM

Typing... 

Hey. |

Typing...

Hello, |

Typing...

How are you? |

Typing...

Hey. They're taking me out for drinks tn as a sendoff party. I think you should be there.

SENT.

YOU | Hey. They're taking me out for drinks tn as a sendoff party.

I think you should be there.

| At the Sip-n-savor in downtown Tokyo

Seen 8:00 PM .

The night went on without a flaw. The atmosphere was infectious, and you had been trying to let loose, drink in hand, as you chatted and danced with the others. But as the night wore on, a sense of unease settled in. Maybe it was the drinks, maybe it was the memories of the overheard conversation in the breakroom, or maybe it was the subtle disappointment that someone hadn't shown up.

Excusing yourself, you made your way to the bathroom. The mirror reflected your flushed cheeks and slightly smudged makeup. You sighed, turning on the faucet and splashing some water on your face. As you washed your hands, you found yourself thinking about Aki.

Despite everything, a depraved part of you had hoped to see him tonight. You had been both relieved and disappointed when he hadn't shown up—relieved because it meant avoiding an awkward conversation, disappointed because you had been... well, actually looking forward to seeing him.

As you touched up your makeup, you couldn't help but reflect on your own conflicted feelings. You were married, committed, and yet, Aki had stirred something in you that you simply couldn't stand to ignore. It was confusing, disorienting. You weren't sure what you felt more strongly: guilt for being drawn to him or frustration that you couldn't just let it go.

"Ugh," You groaned, pressing your forehead against the sink. "'M g'nna be sick."

Feeling a bit lightheaded from the drinks, you decided to step outside for some fresh air. You left the bathroom and – completely drunk – maneuvered through the crowds to the nearest door.

The cool night breeze was a welcome relief against your warm skin, and you leaned against the balcony railing, taking deep breaths. The city lights twinkled below, and you watched them in a daze, trying to steady your thoughts.

That's when you saw him.

Aki was just entering the party, his sharp suit and dark hair making him stand out immediately. You felt your heart skip a beat. Then another. He was killing you.

He came, you thought, a strange mix of emotions flooding you. Relief, excitement, and that persistent undercurrent of guilt all tangled together.

He spotted you almost immediately and made his way over. As he approached, you couldn't help but think how painfully gorgeous he looked, the dim lighting casting a soft glow on his features. In that moment, he seemed almost like a knight in shining armor, a figure out of place in the lively, chaotic setting of the bar.

"Hey," he greeted, his voice smooth and warm, a balm to your nerves.

"Hey," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady despite the fluttering in your chest.

"What are you doing out here?" he asked, a slight concern in his tone. "You're not cold?"

He always seemed to be worried about you and the weather. Still, the chill felt nice against your hot skin, oddly enough.

I missed you, you didn't say. You didn't even think about it. You knew that in a day you would be back on the train and all of this would just be a bad dream, anyway.

You shook your head, a small smile playing on your lips. "No, I just needed some air. It's a bit stuffy in there."

Aki didn't respond immediately, and when you turned your head up to look at him, his expression was unreadable. The noise from inside the bar seemed distant, the world narrowing down to just the two of you in that moment. You felt a tug in your chest, a pull towards him that you couldn't explain, couldn't deny.

"Did you pregame the bar, or something?" You laughed quietly. It felt nice, being able to pretend nothing had ever happened between the two of you and just... enjoy each other's company. "You smell like beer."

"I was having a few drinks with my roommate before you texted me," He answered. Then, looking out onto the street, he added, "He told me I shouldn't come tonight. Said you're driving me crazy."

"So, why are you here, then?" You asked.

He looked at you. "I think you know why I'm here."

There was a brief silence, comfortable yet charged with the unspoken. You glanced at him, noticing the way his eyes lingered on you, soft but searching. It was the same look he had given you in the seminar, the museum, everywhere else, and it stirred something deep inside you.

You hated the way he made you feel.

"Can I buy you a drink?" He asked you. His voice was as deep and rich as ever, and you had about half a mind to take him up on the offer.

You shivered. You knew it wasn't from the cold air. It was him – the smell of him, his cologne, the distinct scent of nicotine that let you know he had just finished smoking a cigarette. It was an aroma so unique to him that you had grown to like it.

You were looking at his lips before you knew it, giving way to a craving you couldn't explain, "I'll try a cigarette, if you have any."

He smiled softly, reaching into his pocket and flipping open a carton of cigarettes and a lighter. He placed a cancer stick between your lips, and you felt a part of you die a little. He struck the wheel of the lighter, bringing the cigarette to life.

You coughed so hard that you nearly hacked up a lung. It had been years since your last cigarette.

Hayakawa stepped behind you, cupping a hand around your elbow, sliding it up your arm, your wrist, your fingers before he plucked the cigarette from your digits.

"First time?" He asked, warm voice hot against your neck.

"Wanted to give it a try," You shrugged. You didn't know what, exactly, had gotten into you. It seemed that with every sip of liquor you took lately, you crept closer and closer back to your old self. The sort of liquid courage that made people make very bad decisions. "Sorry. I'm a little," You waved your hands around yourself, trying to gesture 'drunk' without actually saying it.

"How brave of you," He murmured, pulling a hit from your cigarette and exhaling. He was the picture of sin – face flushed with alcohol, messy bangs, pink lips wrapped around a cancer stick. He was so pretty it hurt.

"I'll try it again when I'm sober," You offered.

"When?" He asked, breathing smoke out into the air. "Where?"

As persistent as always, you thought. Still, you didn't necessarily mind the attention anymore. You told yourself that it didn't matter – you would be out of here soon anyway, and everything would be far behind you before you knew it.

"Why is it that every time I'm inebriated... God tests me by throwing you in my way?" You laughed, Truly, you wished you had considered the implications of your words a little more before you had said them. "Just as I thought your manners had improved since the party. You behaved badly, then. You know that? Very badly," you hiccuped. "You should be ashamed of yourself, throwing– hic–throwing yourself at a married woman like that."

He didn't acknowledge your drunken ramblings, and he also didn't deny the fact that he had been doing exactly that – throwing himself at a married woman.

"Hardly my fault," He breathed out. "I just can't seem to resist you."

"Don't worry," You replied, eyeing him up dubiously as he pulled another hit from what was left of your cigarette. "I'm leaving tomorrow. Won't have to worry about resisting me after that."

"I know," He answered back. "Selfishly enough, I spent the last few hours wishing your train got delayed one more day, or something like that," He exhaled, then snuffed his cigarette out on the balcony, "Still, I'm glad I could see you before you went home."

"I wish I could say the same about you," You replied before you could stop the words from coming out.

He poked his tongue through the inside of his cheek, retorting, "You're gonna sit here and act like you didn't invite me? Like your eyes didn't light up like a child when you saw me pull up?" He turned around, commanding even more of your attention, standing at least a foot and a half taller than you. "You wanted me to come tonight."

It was true. That's the worst part. Everything he said was the truth.

"So that I could say goodbye," You said with remarkable finality, "I'm leaving after this."

You hadn't originally planned on leaving so soon, of course, but you wanted to get the hell out of here before you made another bad decision.

"Already?" He asked.

"You're the one who ran late," You replied. "This ends tonight. I'm going to say bye to everyone else, then I'll be gone."

With that being said, you made your way back to the door. You would go inside, bid everyone farewell, collect your belongings, and then–

He called your name before you could go back inside. You froze in place.

"Am I misreading the signals?" He asked.

You sighed, turning around one last time to clear the air, "This has to stop, Aki. You make me feel like... like I'm guilty of something."

He implored you, "What do you want me to do?"

"Go back to Himeno," You answered, a biting undertone seeping through your words. You were undeniably bitter about the whole situation, and under any other circumstances, you would have tried to be a good sport, but...

Himeno's words were a heavy weight on your heart.

'Don't mess up a relationship with a perfectly good man for Aki.'

'You should leave him for someone who can actually give him what he needs."

You could never be what Aki wanted. He wanted all of you – not just a week of you, clearly. You were married, and you couldn't let all of that go over a guy you'd been toeing the line with for what seemed like ages.

He was a young man. The fact of the matter was that you were a grown woman. A married one.

"She's a sweet, kind woman," You continued. You felt like you were going to be sick just being near him. Unknowingly, tears began to prickle at the corners of your eyes. "Go back and beg her to forgive you. Go be with someone who wants to be with you. Who can be with you."

"No," He answered simply. There was an intensity in his eyes that frightened you, like he would die without you, as he continued, "That's not what you want. I think we both know that. I refused a mission in Hiroshima to stay here with you. I planned to let go of another one in Beijing," He swallowed, "I can change my mind, and you'll never see me again."

"If you have any consideration for me," Your voice was a shuddering whisper, like someone could walk out any minute and hear the two of you going back and forth. "Any semblance– a shrivel of compassion, you'll give me back my peace."

He shook his head, "I can't. You know I can't. You've consumed every inch of my peace, every inch of my mind. How can I give you your peace?"

Fair point.

You had nothing to say to him. So, silently, your vision blurred with tears, you glared at him. Glared and frowned like that would make you believe he was the sole contributor to this issue. Then, again, you turned on your heel and went for the door. You entered the bar quickly.

He followed not too long after you, "I'll go to Beijing, then."

"No." You said. Your teary-eyed fury caught the eyes of more than a few confused bar patrons. "I don't want you to go."

Everyone was looking at you. Seriously, everyone. Your old coworkers, the bartenders, everybody.

You swallowed down your pride, bowing down before them all. "Good night, everyone," You said. You plucked your purse and your jacket off of the barstool. "Thank you for everything. I'm leaving."

Ignoring the confused looks and hushed whispers from the patrons, you exited the bar, your mind a whirlwind of emotions. The rain had started to fall, a soft drizzle quickly turning into a steady downpour. You barely noticed, too wrapped up in the turmoil inside your head. The cold, wet sensation of the rain soaked through your clothes, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. You just needed to get away, to clear your mind.

But of course, Aki followed after you. You could hear him calling your name, his voice barely audible over the sound of the rain. You quickened your pace, almost running, your heels splashing through puddles as you made your way down the block. His footsteps pounded behind you, matching your speed. You couldn't escape him, couldn't outrun him.

Finally, he caught up to you, grabbing your arm to stop you. "Wait, can we please talk?" he pleaded, his voice breathless and desperate.

You turned to face him, rain pouring down around you both. His hair was plastered to his forehead, his suit jacket soaked through. The intensity in his eyes matched the storm, a fierce determination that made your heart ache. You met his gaze begrudgingly, not wanting to deal with this, not wanting to deal with him.

"Have I really been imagining all of this?" He asked. He sounded broken. "Is it really all in my head? Tell me if it's a lie. Tell me to leave you alone. Tell me you mean it—all of it," he paused, taking a shuddering breath. "Or tell me the truth."

You swallowed hard, the weight of the situation crashing down on you. "I don't know how to feel, Aki," you finally admitted, your voice barely a whisper. "I'm trying to be good, but you just keep fucking—popping up everywhere. And you say these pretty things to me, and," You choked back a sob, struggling to find the right words. "I can't help myself around you."

"Running from your problems won't make me go away," he said, stepping forward to put his hands gently on your waist.

There was a long pause as you stood there in the rain, staring at each other. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you. The storm, the bar, everything else was just a blur. You were tired—tired of running, tired of the confusion, tired of pretending that everything was fine when it wasn't.

He added, "You can't run from your feelings."

This time, it was his eyes that dropped to your lips. His tongue darted out to dampen his own, and then his eyes flicked up to your face. When he spoke, his voice was huskier than before, as if it had been tainted by an emotion that hadn't been there before. Was it lust? Passion? Whatever it was, you wanted more of it.

Your eyes widened. Your mouth had run dry. You didn't know what to say. Even being like this right now -- as close as you were, -- was against your wedding vows. This was wrong, and you couldn't do that to your own husband.

Your own husband who loved you so dearly.

Your own husband who left you hanging so many nights on end.

Your own husband, who acted as if he couldn't care if you lived or died.

As if he had sensed your train of thought wandering, Aki placed two fingers beneath your chin, lifting your face up until he was the captor of all of your attention. Him and him alone. Not your husband, but him.

"I could treat you like a princess," His eyes wandered down to your lips again, but this time there was an unspoken hunger within them. "All you have to do is ask, and I'm yours. I already am."

And, God, what a fool you had been in uttering the words, "Don't toy with my emotions. You don't want me."

He paused, awaiting something, anything. His eyes pleaded with your own, luring you in with promises of pleasure and happiness. Gently, he grabbed your hand, placing it over his breast, right above his heart.

"I want you so badly it hurts," He breathed, "For a night, for a day, for a week..." Aki closed the gap between the two of you – brought your faces closer together. Closer, until you could feel the warmth of his calm breath fanning out against your cheek. Closer, until he uttered, "As long as you'll let me have you."

"Aki, I can't-...." You paused. Yet, still, you never moved. Your body betrayed your words, dilated pupils and trembling hands giving way to your internal dilemma. "This is wrong. You know I can't do this."

You were being a hypocrite. You knew you were. One spare glance down at the placement of your hands on his chest -- one over his breast and one looped around his tie -- and you knew he could tell you were only putting up a front.

"I know," he murmured softly, words practically dying beneath the volume of the rain, "But I can't stop thinking about you."

You folded. Your eyes dropped down to his lips one last time, and that's when you knew he had already won.

Fuck it.

"Fuck you," you muttered, feeling a surge of reckless abandon.

Without thinking, you reached out and pulled him towards you, crashing your lips against his in a desperate, frenzied kiss. It was messy and wet, your tears mixing with the rain, your hands tangling in his hair as his arms finally wrapped around you.

The kiss was filled with all the pent-up emotions, the longing, the frustration, the desire. It was passion, it was anger – it was tongue and teeth and lips smearing your lipstick over the lower half of your face. It was two black holes finally colliding after circling around each other far too long.

"I can't make sense of it. I want... you," you sighed, pulling away, voice trembling, "I don't know what any of this means anymore. I don't know what to think."

"Then don't," he whispered, his breath warm against your lips. He tasted like cigarette smoke, beer and mint gum – a flavor so utterly addicting that you couldn't seem to get enough of it. "Don't think. Let me take you back to your room."

You hesitated, the reality of the situation hitting you. This was crossing a line, a line you couldn't uncross. But as you looked into his eyes, saw the same turmoil reflected back at you, you felt your resolve crumble.

You were tired of pretending.

"Okay," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the rain. It was a final, resigned acceptance, the last nail in the coffin of your restraint.

You were tired of running from the inevitable.

a/n: dont hate me. LMFAOAOAOOAOA. i had to! i absolutely loved writing this chapter and i loved writing tipsy obsessed aki. i headcannon that he's a touchy needy bf and no one can tell me otherwise. i think you all know what happens next. im not sayin nothin tho. hehe. ANYWAYYYYY LMK WHAT YALL THOUGHTTTTT i look forward to hearing it!!! lmk what yall wanna see in the next few chapters/over the course of the story. and if youve already watched anna karenina (or read, in which case... how...) shhhhhh youve seen nothing. muah! x

credits: UNKOWN ATM. I found the cover pic on pinterest unfortch. If you know the artist, please let me know, so I can credit them properly for their work!!! This is NOT MY BEAUTIFUL DRAWINGGG. I obviously do not own csm or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

also: come find me on my wattpad if u wanna interact more!

taglist: @mitsuyeahhh , @sleepysnk , @enneadec , @noaabean , @em1e , @drakensdarling , @bertholdts--butt , @satanlovesusall666 , @mitsuwuyaa , @noctifule , @scaraphobia , @ask-the-insect-hashira , @lovingranchturkeyweasel , @bontensbabygirl , @slvdsjjk , @novacrystalli , @hanmastattoos , @kodzuksn , @hqtiny , @ohmaiscool15 , @redlittlequeen , @leivane , @goldeneagles-posts , @yeahblahlame , @no-oneelsebutnsu , @cookiesandcreammy , @cawwn , @the-haitani-baton , @littlelovebug98 , @armani78 , @mindurownbussines , @kokos-property , @violetmatcha , @hp-simp505 , @acethebrave , @mitsuyeahhh , @sleepysnk , @enneadec , @noaabean , @em1e , @drakensdarling , @bertholdts--butt , @satanlovesusall666 , @mitsuwuyaa , @noctifule , @scaraphobia , @ask-the-insect-hashira , @lovingranchturkeyweasel , @bontensbabygirl , @slvdsjjk , @novacrystalli , @hanmastattoos , @kodzuksn , @hqtiny , @ohmaiscool15 , @redlittlequeen , @leivane , @goldeneagles-posts , @yeahblahlame , @no-oneelsebutnsu , @cookiesandcreammy , @cawwn , @the-haitani-baton , @littlelovebug98 , @armani78 , @mindurownbussines , @kokos-property , @violetmatcha , @hp-simp505

wanna join the taglist? | shameless ; chapter index

[daydream-cement]

Organs in the Wash Ch. 7

Miranda Hilmarson x Reader

Authors Note: Thank u v much to my beta baby @bri-sonat <3 This chapter is a little intense so please take care of yourself during and after reading <3 but if you wanna skip and come back for ch. 8 that's okay too :) I left part of some Deseret untranslated. I wonder if one of you can figure out the translation...

Warnings: Kidnapping, serial killers, blood, torture (cutting), and psychological abuse

Relinquishing his grip on your hair, the killer backed away, retreating back to a workbench. Now given the opportunity, you were able to glance around the room, taking in your surroundings. Concrete floors, walls lined with aged bricks, and the only light sources were a few dangling bulbs. Old metal shelves lined the walls, containing old paint buckets, tools, and miscellaneous housing fixtures that he had probably used to fix things in your apartment at one point or another. If you had to guess, you believed you were in the basement of your apartment building. But why would he choose to stay so close to where he had taken you from?

“You know... I always thought I was going to be a doctor. You can see by my handiwork that I have a steady hand. Maya was an interesting case... I bled her first. Hung her from the rafters above you and let it all run down the drain.” His tone was so casual, like he was describing his last trip to the grocery store. At the mention of Maya hanging from the rafters, you glance upwards and see a chain dangling overhead. The clinking of metal against the workbench draws your attention back down to him, “Washing the organs was the fun part for me. It really gave me an up close and personal look at each of them. After I called the police, I knew I had made a mistake by putting the organs in the wash.”

The effort to talk makes your entire body ache and your voice cracks as you speak, “...So you killed Abbey?” 

He turns around to look at you, delighted you were willing to have a conversation with him, “Exactly. I disemboweled her. I’m keeping her organs nice and fresh in some ethanol on the shelves over there.” He then gestured to the metal shelf with the paint cans that you now realized were filled with human organs, not paint, “She struggled so much. It was so annoying. The police will be lucky if they get an ID on her with what I did to her. With some patience and experimenting, hydrofluoric acid isn’t that hard to make yourself... The internet really is wonderful.”

He crosses the room, approaching a different workbench. Well, you thought it was a workbench, but the straps hanging off of it told you it was where he planned to torture you. Tears welled in your eyes. You didn’t want to show your fear, but this was your nightmares come to life, “And why me?”

He paused what he was doing, only for a moment, to think. He resumed preparing the dissection table for you as he spoke, “At first... proximity. It was easy access, but in the end, it was for the challenge. I would have thought you had recognized my voice, but from the look on your face earlier, you really didn’t know it was me, did you?”

“No...”

“Of course, you didn’t... Girls are so stupid... You did surprise me with your ability to understand the Deseret Alphabet. I wasn’t particularly connected to the language, but every serial killer needs his thing, ya know?” He smiled fondly and gestured wildly with his hands, clearly passionate and remorseless in his killing, “You’re special. I’m going to let you choose the phrase I carve into you. Maybe we can write a sweet letter for your boyfriend to read when she finds your corpse.” 

------

“Repeat those phrases from the letter back to me again.” Robin requested as she moved slowly about your apartment, checking every nook and cranny for anything unusual other officers may have missed. 

Miranda pulled the notebook from her jacket, flipping through the pages to find the translation to the letter, “‘The answer is so near, yet you are blind to the possibilities. Many of these old buildings hold more secrets than you can even imagine.’ And it was also signed, ‘your neighbor.’”

Robin only hummed in response, her eyes trailing along the baseboards for anything that could indicate ‘secrets’ like hidden doors or passages that could have given the killer access to the apartment. Her eyes stopped when confronted with your bookcase and she called over to Miranda to help her, “Here, help me move this bookcase.” 

Tucking the notebook back in her vest, Miranda took two long strides to grasp at the bookcase, pushing while Robin pulled. The blonde huffed as she heaved the bookcase out of the way, “Do you think there is a hidden door or something?” 

“That’s what makes the most sense to me...” Robin shrugged, glancing around the bookcase to the exposed wall to find nothing out of the ordinary.

“Nothing... Robin... What am I going to do? I need to find her. I-” Miranda’s hands move up to her hair, ranking through the locks roughly as to take her aggression out somewhere. She began to pace across your apartment, her chest beginning to heave from the stress and panic that was setting in. The sound of Robin’s ringtone made both of the women stop in their tracks. 

“Just-” Robin pulled the phone from her pocket and glanced down at Adrian’s contact glowing on her home screen. Before she took the call, she looked at Miranda intently, providing her with a couple comforting words, “We will find her. She will be back with you in no time...” 

Answering the call, Robin placed it on speakerphone so she wouldn’t have to relay all of the information back to Miranda later on. Adrian spoke before either of the women could get a word out, “Get back down to the station. We caught him.”

Robin let out a light laugh, unable to believe Adrian could be talking about the serial killer they had been searching relentlessly for, “Caught who?”

“The killer. There is no reason for you to be in Ms. L/n’s apartment any longer.” Adrian’s voice was tainted with annoyance. 

Miranda’s eyes widened and she snatched the phone from Robin’s hand, holding the speaker up to her mouth. The way her voice filled with hope made Robin’s heart ache, “Is Y/n there? Is she with you? Can I talk to her?”

“We haven’t tracked her down yet. We are interrogating him right now to get her location. He keeps feeding us this bullshit that he doesn’t know who we are talking about. We are checking his ‘so-called’ alibis, but we are sure they will fall through.” Miranda’s face immediately fell at Adrian’s response, a scowl returning to her features. Robin and Miranda exchanged a glance, hesitant to believe they had found the killer so easily. The women were so confident in their suspicions the killer was still in the building that they doubted the other detective’s abilities. 

Robin took her phone back from Miranda with a roll of her eyes, “We are going to continue with our theories until you confirm or disprove his alibis.” 

“Waste of time, Griffin. I want you both-” 

“Yeah, we will finish up here and get down to the station when we are done.” Robin noticed the way Miranda’s face fell at the imminent order from their superior, so she opted for the path of disobedience. She cut off Adrian mid-sentence and hung up when she ended her sentence. The brunette smirked at her partner, “Let’s find a killer.”

-------

“Now... Don’t be causing any trouble. You are going to get on this dissection table without any fuss or I’ll really make you regret it, hmm?” He spoke to you like you were a toddler which was incredibly infuriating. If you were going to die anyway, wouldn’t an attempt at escaping be worth the try? On the other hand, if you were going to die, would trying to escape be worth the additional torture? 

He pulls the dissection table to your side, a horrible scraping noise accompanying the action from the metal sliding against the concrete floors. 

“After you, I think I’ll move on to Brisbane... They have the medical school there. I’m sure with all of my experience, I could really impress them with my talents. University of Queensland Mayne... I could be a surgeon.” He situated the table meticulously and moved to fetch a large overhead light he would no doubt use to accurately carve his letter to Miranda into you. His delusional mindset made your brow furrow, “Think of all of the good you will be doing by allowing me to practice on you. This is very altruistic of you.” 

Monotone and dripping with sarcasm, you couldn’t help yourself, “Happy to help.” 

Flicking on the light, he adjusted it over the table and you were then blinded by the LED bulbs, “I knew you would understand. Now, let’s get you all set up here so we can get started.” 

He squatted in front of your chair, untying your legs and continuing his friendly chatter, “I could even continue my extra-curricular surgeries for practice when I’m in Brisbane, ya know? After we are done here, I have a little timer set up to burn this apartment building to the ground. I can collect on that insurance money and buy a couple properties in Brisbane, rent them out maybe? I have time to figure it all out.”

“Oh, sure.”

Circling the chair, he began to untie your hands, reminding you to behave before he continued telling you about his master plan, “Now, no running... I made pretty good money with the laundromat and as a landlord, but you really need to follow your dreams.”

From the moment the rope slipped from your wrists, you bolted, scrambling away from him as quickly as possible. He must not have been expecting you to run as he stumbled and tripped over the chair you had been sitting in. 

You really had no clue where to run, but you dashed past his work bench, pausing momentarily to lift the far side of it and send the tools crashing and skidding across the floor. Hopefully, if you made enough noise, someone nearby would be able to hear you calling for help. You screamed for help, calling out Miranda’s name, and calling out your own name for any passerby to hear. 

As you moved through the basement, you could hear his angry shouting behind you, “Get back here, you dumb bitch.”

Glancing back over your shoulder, he wasn’t any closer, but you figured you should keep throwing things in his path. Passing by one of his beloved shelves of organs, you yanked the shelf to the floor, taking seconds longer than you should have when you saw him sprinting even closer. The horrible smell of preserved organs and ethanol filled the air when the cans burst open upon hitting the floor. 

Continuing down a hallway, you realized the opportunity for you to be trapped was growing high. He groaned in frustration behind you, pausing momentarily to look at all of his hard work undone by your action. You attempted to rattle the handle on two different doors to only find them locked. Further down the hallway, there was a final door and metal bars moving up the wall, leading to a hatch in the ceiling. 

You could hear the sound of his feet hitting the floor- he must have jumped over the fallen shelf, resuming his pursuit of you. Ignoring the door, you assumed it would be locked like the others, so you choose to climb the ladder instead. Your heart dropped when your foot slipped on the second step, knowing you had wasted a split second and the odds of him grabbing your legs and pulling you to the floor was high. 

You made it up another two steps when your foot slipped again. The adrenaline and anxiety from being caught was making your entire body shake. A glimmer of hope shone through when your hand grasped the latch of the hatch, pushing upwards. It was beyond heavy, but you were able to shift it upwards an inch. 

A hand around your ankle causes you to yelp out a final cry for help through the small opening leading to the outside world. His other hand came to grasp the back of your shirt and he gave you a yank backwards and you were filled with self-disgust when your hands slipped from their places on the latch and ladder. He sent you flying to the floor, your head hitting the brick of the basement wall. 

The last thing you heard was the hatch slamming shut under the weight of itself. 

----

Miranda was trying her best to help Robin, but the pressure of finding you was starting to get to her. She began pacing back and forth across the back wall of your apartment while Robin continued searching for anything out of the ordinary. The shorter woman shot her partner an annoyed glance, wishing Miranda could set aside her feelings for you to make headway on finding you, “Miranda! Can you help me here?”

“I’m doing my best, Robin! Get off my ass!” Miranda shouted, stopping in her tracks and stomping her foot in defiance. A hollow sound from beneath her echoed from the strike of her boot. Furrowing her brow, Miranda glanced down to the floor, repeating the action once more and receiving the same response. Shifting over a meter, Miranda threw her foot down once more to hear solid ground instead of the echo. 

“There is no need to throw a tantrum, Hilmarson. We will figure this out.” Robin must not have noticed the change in noises like Miranda had as she rolled her eyes at the blonde. The brunette’s phone began to buzz in her pocket once more and she huffed in frustration at seeing Adrian’s contact once more. Accepting the call and shoving the phone to her ear, Robin was less than welcoming to her boss, “What?”

“Where the hell are you?” Adrian shouted into the receiver of his office phone. 

Robin glanced over at Miranda kneeling on the floor, her fingers dancing around the edges of floorboards, attempting to lift them from their place, “...investigating a lead.”

Miranda studied the floorboards, noting a different wear pattern at the edge of where the hollow noise began. Pulling a pocket knife from her vest, Miranda wedged it into the boards, prying up the board enough for her to push her fingers under it and lift. A group of boards were attached to one another, revealing a hole in the floor, a ladder lining one of the walls. 

“The suspect’s alibi is airtight. The dental records came back on the second victim. Her name was Abbey Moore.”  Robin was only paying partial attention to Adrian’s words as she watched Miranda. “Both the victims and this kid all have something in common; they are all tenants of the same landlord. We are thinking the landlord could be behind it all.”

At the sight of the secret tunnel, Robin’s eyes widened, a satisfied smile spreading across her face in knowing they had been right. It all made perfect sense that the landlord had been the one to frame his male tenant, kill the two women, and kidnap you. While she didn’t know his motive, he had the opportunity and access to harm his tenants, “It’s him. The landlord did it.”

“We need to- You knew?” Adrian couldn’t hide his shock at his detective’s statement. 

Robin crossed the apartment, filling Adrian in before she and Miranda continued their investigation, “We followed Hilmarson’s theory. Send backup back to the apartment building. She found a hatch leading somewhere. We are going to follow it down and see what we can find.”

Adrian barked an order, but it was no use. The constable and detective were too determined to save you and catch a killer, “Get out of there, Griffin. Wait until I get down there with a couple more constables. We don’t know what we are up against here.”

“There is no time. We will leave the hatch open for you to find, Adrian.” Robin shook her head, knowing if she or Miranda were to get hurt due to her continuous disobedience, she would be put on desk duty for the foreseeable future. Robin hung up and shoved her phone in her back pocket, “Okay, Hilmarson. You want to go first, or shall I?”

-------

The horrid agony of a scalpel digging into your forearm brought you back to consciousness. You could sense the blinding LEDs before you even opened your eyes. Your head throbbed and there was a tightness across your chest and legs. Straps held your body in place and your head hitting the bricks earlier had left you with a large gash in the back of your head. You attempted to cry out in pain, but your voice was muffled by a rag that tasted of wood stain causing a burning sensation on your tongue. 

Glancing up from his work, he now donned a pair of magnifying glasses to make sure his work was neat and tidy. He was using a rag doused in hydrogen peroxide to add an extra sting whenever he wiped away the blood, wanting you to suffer as much as possible, not giving you the opportunity to regain your breath between cuts, “You shouldn’t have done that. Now you wont get to choose the little note I leave on your corpse.”

He had only made his way through two words, 𐐔𐐨𐑉 𐐣𐐮𐑉𐐰𐑌𐐼𐐲, and tears had already flooded your eyes and were pouring down your cheeks. His movements were short strokes, making sure to leave enough room on your forearm for everything he wanted to say. If this experience were to be reflective of your death, this was going to be a prolonged and harrowing experience.

[qprpbj]

do you have any tips on how to start writing fics?

the outsiders brainrot actually has me coming up with ideas and i have a desire to start writing them into actual stories but i've never written outside of class papers/assignments and i don't really know where/how to start since it's all just my own prompts and ideas and there's no grading rubric lmaoooo

like do you plan out each fic with a list first or do you just start writing about the main plot point of the chapter and fill in out of order or do you just start writing and see where it takes you... do you do any research while you're planning or pull from other authors/fics/posts or write from experience...

how do you decide when to stop writing or decide on which endings/paths/plot points to go with... the deadly combo of indecisiveness and perfectionism along with having no guidelines or due dates is crippling me so im asking some of my fav authors (who have also been inspiring me to write and be creative)

wait hi this is so sweet thank you!!! 🥹🥹 i will preface All This (sorry i yapped so much lol) by. i’ve been writing fic for like ten years and i think a lot of my old fic, while deeply cringe and awful, was all very important to getting me where i am today where i feel i can accurately get across what im trying to say!!!

first. hone your ideas!!! try to find a good niche you feel comfortable in (but also. don’t limit your creativity!!!). idk for me it’s easier to start specific and small rather than super general bc then i have Tooooo much freedom u know. i think my niche sorta across fandoms is generally softer dialogue, exploring close siblings or familial or friendship bonds an dynamics through situation, a lot of fluff, maybe a lil hurt comfort

i basically exclusively write in order! unless i get a really cool line/paragraph in my head that i write out and save for later to fit in somewhere. i usually have a like one-line idea that just Comes to me (ex. this was my entire line idea that turned into that pony getting jumped fic!)

then i’ll expand it a little more into a shitty little paragraph (ex. here’s a few!!!)

and then tbh after that i just kinda write everything in order from top to bottom from there. i wish i were more organized tbh and writing long fic/chaptered stuff is still sooo hard for me (which is why i don’t do it much yet lol) but im really trying to break out of it!! slowly we are learning!!! retaining the inspo and drive necessary to write that much is harddddd lmfao

before writing i always do have a solid idea where i want it to start and go and end though. like that ponyboy jumping fic i Knew i wanted to have pony get jumped in the opening scene, then go home, try to break down cutting his own hair, brothers come in and talk him down and it ends with talking abt johnny, even if i didn’t like. List that all out in words in a document.

definitely do research!!! espppp for outsiders bc it was like 60 years ago!!! well researched fics are soooo obviously tonally different and it’s always super obvious imo when that sort of care is put into ur writing. that fic i wrote about darry getting a panic attack was important researching bc panic attacks weren’t well known or researched or even Called panic attacks back then, so it’d be hella jarring seeing like 1967 13y/o pony whip out ��you’re having a panic attack darry 🤓👆” yk lmfaoo

i SOO get the perfectionism and having no due dates thing btw. i have literally like 5 fics i’ve started and not finished in my docs rn with like 15 more ideas i wanna write someday. tbh! try to enter that Hyperfixation Zone and be really excited about what you’re making!!! helps it go by easier bc i swear sometimes i’ll write fic and it feels like pulling teeth even though it’s supposed to be fun!!!

last thing. try and find friends to bounce ideas off of and go crazy with you <3 or ppl to beta read!!! makes writing SO much easier and sm more fun having a your own lil personal cheerleader!!! if you ever need a beta id be soooo happy to read whatever you’ve got and hype u up!!! <3 i hope this helped at least a little bit LOL my writing process is kinda chaotic ngl

[send-up-my-heart-to-you]

in honor of world mental health day heres my story below the cut :)

kinda hard to talk abt this cause its somewhat triggering and ik theres gonna be ppl who think im just an emo 15 y/o, but i swear im not tryna be dramatic. im tryna make peace with my past, and also show others that despite everything, you can make it.

also, im tryna show that healing isnt all sunshine and daises. theres the good, the bad, and the ugly. you can and will survive it all

tw: sewerslide attempt, abusive parents, self harm, violence ig ?

ive died two times in my life so far.

the first time, it was my parents who killed me. december 31st, 2020, ~1.15am. i remember dragging across the hallway in my house, a throbbing sensation in my thigh, the mark already turning purple. i walked past my younger sisters' room, where my cousin was sleeping over with them, and i remember climbing into bed, hugging my pillow, crying against the pillow. that night, it was my innocence that died. my childhood happiness, per se. i remember swearing to myself in those final moments before darkness that id never forget that day. december 31st, 2020, ~1.15am.

the time between my two deaths was filled with barely anything other than self loathing. i remember trying to set goals for myself, reasons to live. i tried out new hobbies. i was never able to meet those goals, and all the hobbies bored me.

i met some of the best people ever during that time. i also met some of the worst. i might sound dramatic, cause im young and impressionable, but the people i met during that time genuinely shaped who i am. i dont wanna act like im an old soul or anything, cause im sure that in a few years imma look back and think, "shit, i was really immature." but i matured faster than others my age. i found myself faster, found things i liked, found love, found out i hated being in love.

and then i died again.

this was a recent death. june 22, 2023. my mental health had been deteriorating for months prior – i still have scars on my arms.

it was a slower death compared to the last one. i started dying at around 4.00pm. it went on for an hour before the pain became unbearable and i confessed to my parents. i didnt want to go to the hospital, i was scared of what theyd do. i threw up seven times before giving in at about 8.00pm. they took me to the hospital. i was told told me i was lucky to be alive, that my liver was still functional. i didnt feel lucky. i felt like death wouldve been less painful. my head was spinning

i died in that hospital bed, at ~9.40pm, with my eyes wide open, my mom sitting near me. my thoughts at the time were along the lines of this:

im quite literally a child in the eyes of the world. ive done nothing. i have a psychology exam tomorrow. i have a book im halfway done writing, and a new story thats been brewing in my head for months. but if i die now, ill never get to finish any of that. ill never succeed. ill never be able to spit in the faces of the girls who bullied me, of the teachers who doubted me. why would i do this to myself? why would i rob myself of that chance?

so i died. but not the same way as last time. this time, it was the poisonous me that died, the me that whispered in my ear that my life would amount to nothing, that everyone else had it better, that you either succeed or you dont.

and when i died the second time, something happened that didnt happen the first time.

i was reborn.

at the time of me writing this, its been less than four months since my rebirth. in those four months:

i decided to change the world somehow. not necessarily by finding the cure to cancer or anything, id be satisfied if it was just a cute lil video i made going viral. as long as theres someone out there who i changed

i finished about six chapters of my book

i began writing the story that had been brewing in my head

i started lifting weights to make myself feel better abt how i looked

i got closer to god. stopped missing prayer

i moved schools, leaving behind both bullies and friends

i started focusing on my studies

i tried to fix my relationships with my parents and my siblings

dont get me wrong. none of these are completed. im still an extreme case of nobody-ness. i havent finished writing either of my stories. i still skip out on working out a lot i still only do the bare minimum in terms of religion. im still struggling to catch up in school to make up for my three years of burnout. my relationship with my family is still kinda weird

and i still feel like im dying sometimes. its not like i changed overnight and all those suicidal thoughts and feelings of drowning just disappeared when the sunrays came up. theres still a lot of issues in my life.

but i have faith in myself. in my ability to change the things that can be changed. in creating happiness where theres room for it to be made.

and if finding happiness a losing battle?

well, ill fight like its the fucking boudican revolt.

[shyphonics]

Salad Days, Chapter 7: I Used To Be a Baby, Now I'm Just a Criminal.

(babypunk Rodrick Heffley x reader)

chapter directory

I think this is the longest chapter I've written, I broke 6k words!! Also very excited to finally use the most Rodrick-coded song I can think of, please treat yourself to the music video lol.

I've been working on the next few chapters all at once, so they might come out a little faster. :)

Time is our enemy, we’ve had enough

Let’s get together, let’s show them what’s up

1312, ACAB

Es para la gente, pa todo el mundo

Sale del corazón, queremos ser libres

1312, ACAB

You pull up to the front of The Strike, and it’s bad.

Where there was once a giant, beautiful bay window, almost as tall as the building itself, there is now a giant hole. Flyers which previously coated the window are crushed and ripped, the colorful papers poking out under smashed panes of glass.

“Fuck,” you mutter.

You get out to observe the damage, and find Mike sweeping up shards of glass.

“Did you call the cops?” You ask, stepping over a broken barstool.

“They were already here. Didn’t give a shit, of course. Said they had an anonymous tip, but they probably just wanted to go back to doing fuck-all.”

You look around, and notice crude graffiti on the walls.

I burned down the Plainview library on one wall.

And I’ll do the same to this shithole on the other.

RH is spray painted on the mirror behind the bar.

RH…

Rodrick…? You’re pretty sure his last name is something with an H.

And all those cop cars at his apartment…

Either Bryan Kemp is a complete and utter moron, or there’s some other RH out there, and you’ve got it all wrong. One is far more likely than the other.

You head to the back, and find the thick binder of banned IDs.

Before you can open it, the phone rings.

“Strike,” you answer, “we’re closed.”

You tuck the phone into the crook of your neck, and open up The List.

“This is Officer Houston, can I speak to your boss?” A condescending voice creeps into your ear.

“You can speak to me.” You say harshly.

He’s quiet, before you hear a small sigh.

“In relation to the vandalism case at your address, we could not make contact with the perp alleged in the anonymous tip.”

“Because your alleged perp didn’t do it. Rodrick H? Is that the name he gave you?”

“I… can’t disclose that information at this time.” The cop sounds nervous.

“Okay, well, he was with me, all last night and today.” Your voice is low and stable. You really wanna bite this guy’s head off, but you have to stay bare-minimum professional.

“Ma’am, this person was implicated in two separate crimes, with the threat of a third, and we would like to go forward with questioning when we make contact. We will check his alibi when we do.”

You find the most recent pages, with the ID scans from last night. There he is. That motherfucker. You squint, reading his information.

“It was Bryan Kemp, okay? I have his address right here, go talk to him. 452 Spring Hill Lane. On the college campus.”

You hear the sound of a pen scratching paper.

“And your reasoning?”

“We had to kick his ass out of our bar last night for assaulting a performer- assaulting the person he gave you the name of, mind you. He’s lucky we didn’t call you.”

Silence falls over the phone line, save for the sounds of the detective jotting things down. You get impatient, tapping your nails faster and faster on the desk.

“We’ll look into it, ma’am.” He finally says.

You feel anger bubbling up in you, slamming the phone down before you can say something regrettable. Ma’am. Fuck off.

You grab a broom off the wall, and walk back around to the front of the bar. It's a fucking mess.

You duck under the bar to find the stereo, thankfully safe in its little plexiglass prison.

“There’s one thing they can never take from us, Mike.”

“If you’re gonna say our dignity, you’re alone, kid. Mine’s been gone since ‘82.” Mike sits in the middle of the floor, rubbing his temples.

“Nah,” you flip the stereo on, and the typical weekend mix starts playing, gritty and upbeat, “It’s totally cheesy, but I was gonna say the music. Literally and figuratively. Because the stereo still works.” Mike smiles, looking up at the speakers as the room fills with the sweet sounds of T.S.O.L.

“God dammit,’ he sighs, standing up, “C’mere,”

He puts his arms out, and you hug him. It’s comforting, almost parental. You pat each other on the back, soft, then harder. Reassuring, like you’re trying to hype each other up.

“We’re gonna clean this fucking bar up, right?” You say, feeling tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

“Yeah. Yeah, we’re gonna get all this glass out of here, and- and get paint, fix the window.” Mike sniffles.

“Jimbo has to have a glass guy, have you called him?”

“I’m gonna call him!”

“Hell yeah, you are!”

“Kid. It’s strange to say, but- you’re my best friend.”

You pull away, holding him by the shoulders.

“And you’re the last real punk. What did you always used to tell me? When I was a little street rat?”

“You can do anything you want!” He beams, pointing at you.

“You can do anything you want!” You grin, shaking him slightly.

The two of you are all psyched up, sweeping up glass, playing your brooms like guitars, screaming along to Minor Threat and Adicts and and Stiff Little Fingers.

Other bartenders show up, along with the bouncers. You sit in a big circle on the floor, drinking shitty beer and laughing. Jimbo is up on a ladder- he does have a glass guy. You knew he would. They’re brushing all the broken bits out of the frame and measuring the dimensions. For now, it’ll be plywood, but it’s something. You want to call Rodrick, tell him everything’s gonna be okay, but you realize you don’t even have his number.

You make your way up to the office, and log into your email.

From: worldsbestbartender@aol.com

To: lodeddiperrawkz@aol.com

Subject: All good :)

We're getting everything cleaned up over here. Measuring for a new window and everything. I gave the cops Bryan’s address. I think he was trying to frame you. Stupid asshole LOL. I told the cops you were with me all night and day. They’re being jerks, though- kinda their M.O. I guess- but if they come back, you don’t have anything to worry about.

I had a really good time with you.

Call me, okay? 444-7881

You smile as you hit send, and head back downstairs.

You really don't want him to worry- he'd looked so sad when he got out of your car. Everything will be okay. He'll still be waiting for you when you're done taking care of business.

Rodrick sits against the wall, knees to his chest, hyperventilating.

“What does that even mean? Associated with a crime scene- what- what does that mean?”

“Dude, chill out,” Ben crouches next to him, “You didn’t do anything, right? You’ve been with that girl.”

“Yeah, but,” Rodrick puts his head in his hands.

He’s never told anyone what he did.

It was stupid, and reckless, but nobody had gotten hurt. The repairs to that street went over pretty easy, and it never even comes up in the news anymore.

Sure, people assumed.

He'd been the weird kid. Dark hair and eyeliner. Metal band. Nearly a high school dropout. Essentially a pariah. Of course people had assumed it was him.

But they never knew for sure.

There’s no point in telling anyone. He’ll just keep it with him, until one day, it’s barely even a notable memory.

But the bar. That’s on him, as far as he can figure. He could’ve just kept his mouth shut.

“Ben, the bar got fucked up, and it’s all my fault, I shouldn’t have fought back against Bryan, I should have just-”

“Dude,” Ben puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Taken it like I did back home, and now she’s gonna hate me, I fucked up,” He wails.

Sobs rack his body as he sinks further down the wall. Ben sits next to him and stares, agape.

“What are you talking about?”

Rodrick takes a moment to calm down, trying to breathe slow and steady. He wipes his eyes with the sleeves of his denim jacket. He really hates when he cries, especially when he can’t stop it like this.

“Someone- well, Bryan, probably- wrecked the bar, and it’s all my fault, I can never go back.” He hates how whiny his voice sounds.

“Should we go down and see if we can help?” Ben asks gently.

“No. No, I’m never going back there. We can find a different bar, or- or get real jobs. I can’t ever show my face there again.”

“Real jobs? What the fuck has gotten into you?” Ben asks, “That’s not why we’re here, dude.”

“Ward and Chris are at work.” Rodrick pouts, “I just saw Ward. At his job.”

“Yeah. Shit jobs to make rent. We all said we’d get one of those. But you are not gonna sit here and say anything about real jobs.”

Rodrick frowns up at him.

“You gotta calm down, man. I’m sure it’s just a big misunderstanding.”

Rodrick looks down. There’s no way. He’d felt so good before all this. He should’ve known better. He’s not allowed to be happy. He doesn’t deserve it.

He let you down.

You’re probably back at the bar, cursing his name. Regretting ever taking him home, or spending the day with him, or enjoying his company. Letting him write his band name next to yours. He feels like a total fraud.

Ben is still talking. Rodrick isn’t listening. Ben hoists him up, and puts him on one of the floor mattresses.

“You’ll feel better in the morning.”

Rodrick does not feel better in the morning.

His dreams are loud.

He's on trial for arson. Heather Hills is his defense lawyer, dressed in a pink, tweed skirt suit like the blonde woman in that movie his mom liked.

I'm supposed to defend this loser? She laughs. He totally did it, are you kidding me? Just look at him.

The judge laughs at him. The jury laughs at him. Rodrick realizes they're all people he went to school with.

He's beyond help. He's scary. He's crazy! He's a danger to society. Just let him rot.

Rodrick puts his head in his hands, and when he takes them away from his face again, he’s in orange, long sleeves and handcuffs. His hands are shaking. Two men are gripping his shoulders, leading him down a hallway.

Sent to prison, but it looks… abandoned. Like the ones he's seen on those ghost hunting shows. The walls are filthy, and crumbling. The guards trip him and jeer as he walks by.

He’s thrown into a tiny, concrete cell, with only a tiny window on the door.

He sees his mom’s face through the window. She shakes her head.

Then his dad's voice, He's better off in there. It's better for all of us.

He's buckled into a straitjacket, and a psychiatrist is sent to see him. It's you, dressed in a white doctor’s coat, glowing and angelic against the drab concrete. You have no idea who he is. He tries everything to get you to remember.

C'mon. You know me. From the bar! We played a show together, you took me home and we spent the day together. I'm not dangerous, I just… I fucked up! I didn't hurt anyone. You know me!

Your eyes are cold. You sit with a clipboard, legs crossed, scribbling down notes. Like you're observing a science experiment. He's sobbing, begging for you to say something, but the more desperate he gets, the faster you write. You say nothing. He struggles against his restraints. Maybe he really is crazy.

He wakes up in a cold sweat.

Ben and Ward are standing over him. He jolts up.

“Fuck,” he pants, “what the hell are you guys doing?”

“You were freaking us out, dude.” Ben sits on the couch, looking at him.

“Yeah, you were twitching and talking and shit.” Ward walks back to the kitchen, pouring a mug of coffee.

“I had a weird dream.” Rodrick sighs, rubbing his eye.

The doorknob turns, and Chris walks in.

“Did you guys hear about what happened to The Strike?”

Ben looks at Rodrick. Rodrick panics.

As Chris moves to the kitchen to tell Ward, Rodrick escapes through the front door.

“I’m going out,” he mumbles.

~

Oh, what happened to my little boy?

It's so fuckin’ sad

He used to be a little baby

Now he's just a criminal

~

You adjust the neckline on your top, weighed down by a lav microphone. The news crew buzzes, and Mike nervously paces back and forth. You stand in front of The Strike, the boarded up window in view. With the police being seemingly no help, you and Mike had decided to call the media. Mike would rally, you and Jimbo would stand in as support. Local punks of all ages had heard what happened and were milling around on the street, a sea of black leather and bright hair.

The news anchor flashes you a fake smile, smoothing down her coral blazer, and running a hand through her long, brown hair.

“Are you excited to be on TV?”

You grimace, raising an eyebrow. Excited? Is she kidding?

“Yeah…” you answer, choosing not to pick a fight before you’re on air.

Mike can be a very impassioned guy. You’re slightly worried about what he’ll say and do on live TV, but you can’t say you won’t support it. He’s instructed you to do two things: stand next to him, and look angry.

The camera operator starts to count down from 5, pointing at the anchor on 1.

“Hi, I’m Sadie Shaw, Port Hanna Channel 7. I’m here with local bar owner, Mike Morello, and two of his employees. Their bar, The Strike, was vandalized early Saturday morning, and they’re putting out a call for justice.”

You try your best to look alive, crossing your arms and raising an eyebrow.

“Well, Sadie, I wanna take you back to San Francisco, 1978…” Mike starts, his voice more pronounced than usual, still with its nasally twinge.

Here we go.

“Dan White assassinates Harvey Milk and George Moscone. Milk, a gay icon and a friend to the punks, Moscone, an ally to both. Got a pathetically small sentence because he used to be a cop. We made it known that that was not appreciated.”

The news anchor’s eyes go wide.

“Dianne Feinstein takes over the city. Punishing us because of what they did to us! The cops are putting padlocks on the Art Institute before an Avengers show! They’re coming by the Mab, and the Deaf Club, and 330 Grove and beating up kids who weren’t doing anyone any harm!” He raises his voice, pointing ardently at the camera.

“Uh…” Sadie stutters.

You nod firmly, staring into the lens. A few cheers of yeah! and woo! erupt from the people on the street.

“But we didn’t sit back and take it! We fought back! And we’re not gonna let some frat boy take punk away from us, just like Dan White and Dianne Feinstein tried to take it away from us 30 years ago!” Mike shakes his fist at the sky, like he's making a promise.

People are cheering behind you. You crack a sly smile, still staring into the camera.

“We know who did this! We have his name and address in our ban list! We told the cops! Did they believe us?” Mike looks towards you.

“Nope.” You say, matter-of-factly.

“Of course they didn’t! Look at us! They don’t want anything to do with us! They just want us to shut up and deal with it! Meanwhile, this little douchebag threatened to burn down the bar! So I’m here to tell the cops- do your jobs!”

People laugh and yell behind you, oinking like pigs and parroting Mike.

Do your jobs! Do your jobs, piggies!

“Support your local bars, your local bands, and your only local radio station that hasn’t been taken over by the robots, 98.7!” Mike yells over the noise of the crowd. “And when we're open again, we promise to be more of a nuisance than ever!”

Sadie, with panicked eyes, turns towards the camera.

“Alright, well… you heard it here first! I’m Sadie Shaw, Channel 7.”

The crew starts to put the camera away, looking relieved.

Your microphones are taken off, and after a cold goodbye, the news crew drives off in their van.

As soon as they’re gone, you find yourself bursting into laughter, high-fiving passerby as you turn to follow Mike into the bar.

You check your cell phone, hoping for a call or a text from Rodrick. Hoping he got to see the chaos, too. But there’s nothing. You frown, but you’re quickly snapped out of your thoughts as Jimbo hands you a paint roller.

“Got a perfect match for the old walls. Guy at the store said the color is called 100 MPH.” He grins, flashing horns at you, “Sounds like me on my bike.”

You laugh, taking a peek at the paint lid. It’s the exact same jarring red as before, and the name makes you smile. You mirror Jimbo’s horns and walk inside.

Meanwhile, Rodrick drives aimlessly.

His eyes are dry from crying, and he can barely focus on the road. The radio is off.

He’s getting further and further out of town, and he realizes… his autopilot is taking him home.

He doesn’t want to go home.

He shouldn't even still be calling it home.

But there he is, passing his high school. The diner. And then he’s pulling up on his street.

He sees his family piling out of the car, just getting back from church. He slowly pulls up outside the house, and he sees Greg in the window, his eyes widening when he realizes who it is. He gets out of the van, slowly walking up to the door before knocking tentatively.

“Rodrick, you’re alive!” His mom wraps her arms around him when she opens the door, “You didn’t have to knock!”

“Jesus, mom!” Rodrick recoils slightly as she embraces him, “What? Of course I'm alive. Why wouldn't I be alive?!”

As he sits at the dining room table with his family, he's overcome by a sense of familiarity. He feels like his old self.

“Greg got an A on his geometry final,” His dad says.

“Ha! Dork.” Rodrick lightly punches Greg on the shoulder.

“Rodrick, how was your concert?” His mom grins across from him. He notices his dad looking  away.

“Good. Great!” Rodrick smiles, recalling the noise of the crowd and the praise they'd gotten, before everything went to hell.

“Did you get paid?” His dad asks, still not looking at him.

Rodrick gives a pointed look to his dad, waiting a few seconds before answering.

“Yeah, we did. $200, plus we sold half the shirts we had.” He crosses his arms, “And the girl who got us on the show said we should have a lot more offers from other places by this weekend.”

He feels a twinge of guilt, knowing all that probably won't happen now. Knowing you probably hate him, and have already warned the other bars not to book his band. Even if they do get another show… he's too much of a coward to show up, anyway.

Proving his dad wrong comes above everything, though.

Frank scoffs out a laugh.

His mom smiles nervously, looking from Frank to Rodrick.

“That's great!”

“Yeah, great,” Frank rolls his eyes, “Two of the neighbor kids are starting medical residencies, and one is studying for the bar, but… you got $200! That's great!”

“Frank-”

“No, Susan, that's just fantastic! My son is being paid to hang out with bums!” He laughs, a high cackle, slamming his hand on the table.

Everyone is silent. His dad gets up, and disappears into the basement.

"Its, like... a third of our rent." Rodrick mutters, looking down.

“Greg,” his mom says after a minute, “Take Manny and go to the living room, would you?”

Greg looks at Rodrick for a minute, then back at his mom, brows knit in worry.

“Mom…?”

“It's cool,” Rodrick looks at him, smiling as much as he can manage, “Go on.”

Rodrick sits at the kitchen counter with his mom. She takes out two stemmed glasses and fills them with generous pours of sweet white wine.

“Don't listen to your dad.” She slides the glass to him.

“What?” Rodrick’s voice comes out weak.

“Sure, maybe for a while, I wanted you on a different path too, but… you're happy, right?”

Rodrick looks down into his glass. That's a big question. He decides to lie. Pretend that Saturday never happened. He takes a long sip of the wine, wincing at the sweetness.

“Yeah,” he nods, looking up at her, “I am. We… we got accepted, like, right away. Everyone liked us.”

His mom beams, leaning on the counter.

“People said we were really good, and- and we're on the list of bands that can open for big bands now. Like, touring bands.” Rodrick feels his heart skip a beat, knowing he's lying.

“That's great,” his mom puts her hand over his, “As long as you're happy, and you're alive, I'm happy. As for your dad, it might take a while, but I think he'll come around.”

“Mom, I…” he pauses. He wants to tell her everything. Everything. He almost does, then the urge is gone, “...I love you.”

His mom walks around the counter, hugging him tight. This time, he lets her.

He leaves without seeing his dad, giving Greg a noogie on his way out.

The drive back to town is quiet, but more peaceful than the drive in.

On the outskirts of town, he notices the liquor delivery plant he and the guys had visited a few days before, with a giant HIRING sign out front. He stops.

~

How do you know what my best interest is?

How can you say what my best interest is?

What are you trying to say, I’m crazy?

When I went to your schools?

I went to your churches?

I went to your institutional learning facilities?

So, how can you say I’m crazy?

~

It's late. You’re on the last leg of one of the most active radio shifts you've ever worked. People have started dropping money in the mail slot for repairs, and you’d had the idea to tell any future donors to include a note with a name and a song request with their cash. You're calling it Donation Roulette.

CDs and tapes sit scattered around you, covered in sticky notes with names, play order, and track numbers.

A song ends, and you get on the mic, picking up CD number 20, track 6. You pop it in and skip ahead.

“Number 20! Big thanks to Dennis Hall for your donation, and a request for one of my all time favorites, ‘Institutionalized’-Suicidal Tendencies. This is the last one before I sign off for tonight, and we’ll have a DJ back on roulette duty first thing tomorrow.”

You smile, finger hovering over the play button.

“All of us here at 98.7 thank you for your support. We can’t do any of this without each other.”

You hit play, and the riff kicks in as you start shutting down. The CDs and tapes are stacked in order for whoever has the morning shift, and you’ve placed a basket underneath the mail slot in case more people drop off money. There’s already another bundle lying on the ground. $20 and a request for Search and Destroy by The Stooges, with the name Marie Parks attached. Your eyes linger on the note for a while, before you add it to the stack with the CD attached, slipping the money into a metal cash box underneath the radio board.

Doesn’t matter, I’ll probably get hit by a car, anyway.

The song comes to a close, and you shut the board down, then the lights, one by one. Quiet. Dark.

The drive home is short, and you unlock the door to your empty apartment. Quiet. Dark.

You'd thought after such a busy day, filled with talking to people and working, that quiet and dark would be what you wanted.

You sit back on your couch, realizing that’s not the case. The absence of people and noise is jarring. Your brain is buzzing. You flip the TV on. You can’t sit still. You check your email and phone, and find nothing from Rodrick on either. You sigh. You don’t want to think the worst, but… what else can you think?

You sit, trying to focus on the mindless sitcom in front of you. Flipping channels, again and again. Nothing catches you. Back out you go.

You walk over to Pyramid, and it’s completely full. This place tends to trend more traditional goth, and the music is proving it. Moody, pumping bass, and girls with teased hair swinging their mesh-sleeved arms.

You see a group of people you recognize, and they yell when they see you. You yell back. As you sit at the table, the doubts start to fade away. You just need people around you right now. And these are good people. Good, good people. Some of the first people you met in this town.

A band called Put Down. Five guys, about five years older than you, Joey, Jake, Gabe, Marcus, and Nick.

They greet you warmly, making room at their table.

Nick- a tall, tall guy, with a high, bouncy sprout of black, curly hair and a beard, grins at you.

“You were so fucking cool on TV.”

“Aw, c’mon, I said one word.” You wave your hand dismissively, bashful.

“Still fucking cool.” He smiles.

A martini glass with a deep purple, glittering liquid is placed in front of you.

“This is called a Musidora. You gotta try it. These goths know what they’re doing.” Joey smiles, a small, stocky ginger with a nose ring.

You sip it. It's incredible. It tastes… purple. You don't know how else to describe it. You finish it, and order another.

Before you know it, you’ve had… 4, maybe? You can’t even remember. You’re having too much fun. It seems like every band in the city got the memo that this was the place to be, and everyone is up and swishing their arms like the goth girls.

You laugh, spinning, the purple lights of the room glinting around you. Every face is familiar, and you feel the best that you have all day. There’s one face that seems to be missing, though. You look for him, but he isn’t there. Your spin slows, and you still your movements, dizzy.

As the bad thoughts start to creep in, you’re saved by someone grabbing your hand and delicately twirling you. You sigh with relief. He’s here, you knew he’d show up eventually. Plus, the two of you actually pulled off a spin!

“I was waiting for you, why didn’t you call me?” You shout over the music as you turn towards him, and his arm coils around you.

A drunken grin spreads across your face as you land against his chest, in his arms, and…

It’s not him.

You frown, looking up.

“I didn’t know I was supposed to.” He smiles.

Your eyes widen. It’s your ex.

“...Andy?”

He grins. You start to wiggle out of his hold.

Andy is the first person you'd ever dated in this town, all the way back in your borderline crust punk house show days. He’s a beautiful man, with turquoise eyes and tan skin, a sharp, stubbled jaw. His hair is different; what used to be a high pompadour is now a feathery, chin-length cut. He looks down at you lovingly, and for just a second, you let yourself remember the good times.

You’d been a wreck in your younger days, and as much as you tried to discourage him, he seemed fascinated by you. He just kept following you around, and eventually, you let him in. Late night walks down to the water, 40z beers in hand, running from the cops. He’d kissed you for the first time in the woods, underneath a full moon, and made you feel like a person again.

Then the betrayal.

It started with little whispers all over town.

You got your first job, and your co-worker couldn’t stop gushing about her boyfriend, Andy.

It had to be a coincidence. It's not like Andy is an uncommon name. Yeah. You were being crazy.

But then it happened again. And you were so scared, so hesitant to cut one of your only lifelines in this town.

Then you caught him.

He’d given you a spare key to his apartment, which is really a stupid move if you’re gonna cheat, and you came in late from work.

You saw them, right there on the couch. Undeniably nude bodies, shrouded in shadows. The girl screamed when you opened the door.

You’d burst into tears on the spot.

Fuck you, you bastard!

She'd realized what was happening and laughed at you. Andy didn’t say a thing. You ran off, slamming the door, and you never saw him again.

Until now.

“You looked hot on the news today,” He smirks.

You wrench his arm off of you, mouth twisted into a sneer.

“Get away from me.”

“Aw, c’mon,” he reaches for you, “You were excited a second ago.”

“Because I thought you were someone else.” You hiss, slapping his hand away.

You feel something threaten to break within you. You’ve worked so hard over the years to form this calm, stable shell. You pride yourself on staying cool and getting shit done. Seeing Andy, combined with expecting Rodrick, and 4 or 5 of those purple martinis, just put a crack in that shell.

“I miss you,” He gives you a sad look, “C'mon, let's just hang out, no pressure.”

“No fucking way!” You laugh, bitter, feeling shakier by the second.

“I’ve changed.” He takes you gently by the shoulders.

“I don’t care.” You push him away from you, “It’s been years.”

“I just thought it had been long enough to try again.” His eyes are so sad, but you don’t buy it for a second.

You cross your arms, staying silent, frowning at him.

“Are you really with someone else?” His face drops.

“Yeah. Well, kinda. I don’t know, it doesn’t matter. Either way, I don’t want you anymore.”

He looks down, his expression hurt. Good. When he looks back up at you, there's a smug look on his face, and a meanness in his eyes.

“So, what I'm getting is... you met a guy, maybe even slept with him, and you want to be with him, but he hasn't called you? And you're totally freaking out, because you're worried you're letting him walk all over you?”

You stare at him, arms still crossed, still slightly wobbly. You narrow your eyes.

“Shut the fuck up, Andy.”

You disappear into the crowd, hearing him yell wait!, but you don’t go back.

It can’t be true. Rodrick is not walking all over you. It’s only been one day, and something is clearly going on with him, anyway. Andy has no idea what he’s talking about, even if he had been scarily accurate. He hadn't been there. You nod, stumbling through the crowd as you try to convince yourself in your mind. One by one, you find all your friends and let them know you’re leaving.

You exit the bar, and see Nick leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette.

“You heading out?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, walking up to him.

He reaches out to give you a side hug.

“Alright. Hey, festival’s on in a month. You're in. We're gonna put you late in the day on Saturday.”

“For real? Hell yeah,” You smile, his words breaking you out of your funk.

“I'll let you know when everything's all worked out. See you around, D.”

You wave as you walk back to your apartment, trying to get Andy and Rodrick and whatever else out of your head and focus on the positives.

Even if Andy was right, even if Rodrick never calls you again…

You're playing at a music festival in a month. No dumb guy can take that away from you.

~

“Welcome to the team, kid!” The man who runs the plant, Buck, claps Rodrick on the back, “Now comes your initiation.”

“My… what?” Rodrick looks up, putting his paperwork on the top of a stack on Buck’s desk.

“You gotta come out with us!”

Buck is a large man, hairy and menacing, dressed in a worn-out old work shirt over a ratty white tank top.

“Out?” Rodrick gulps, “I’m kind of trying to avoid, like, the bars downtown and stuff…”

“Downtown?” Buck spits, “No, no, we’re not going downtown. We go to Johnny’s, it’s on this side of town. It’s for the guys, not those weirdos, you know what I’m sayin’?”

Rodrick frowns.

“Weirdos? They’re not weirdos, it’s just-”

“Ricky.” Buck takes him by the shoulders.

“Rodrick,” He corrects.

“I’m callin’ you Ricky. And all of those people down there? Grade A weirdos. Trust me. Now c’mon!” Buck shakes him.

Rodrick hesitates, looking at Buck’s red face.

“Uh… okay, fine.”

“That’s the spirit, buddy! Follow me, it’s not far.”

Rodrick pulls up to a cinderblock dive bar in a dirt lot, with overgrown brush sprouting up around the edges. The neon sign is green, half-dead, and flashing. Inside, it’s dark. Dollar bills hang from the walls, with profanities and funny faces scribbled over the markings. Old blues rock blasts from the speakers. Rodrick sits at the end, next to Buck, and guys in various work clothes line the rest of the bar. Everyone chatters, yelling and laughing, and Rodrick tries his best to pretend he’s paying attention whenever Buck nudges him. When they’re not looking, he finds himself staring at the bubbles in his beer mug, feeling completely out of body.

This feels weird. It feels wrong. He thought this would just be a job, but now he’s hanging out with these guys? These guys, with their sweaty beards, barking like dogs at the bartender? At the vintage beer ads with pinup girls that line the walls? He can't believe Buck had really had the nerve to call other people weirdos. He makes sure to tip the poor girl behind the bar as much as he possibly can, hearing your voice ring painfully in his head, flashing her apologetic looks.

“She looks pretty wild, eh, Ricky?”

Rodrick looks where Buck is pointing. It’s an old poster of a woman with feathered hair, in a low-cut top and daisy dukes, sitting with a beer bottle in between her legs. He doesn’t answer right away. He’s not sure what he’s supposed to say.

“Uh. Yeah, she looks pretty, uh, wild? I guess?” He grimaces.

The guys around him all hoot and holler at his answer. Rodrick looks down the bar, bewildered. Is it really this easy? To be a… guy, as Buck had said?

He keeps downing mugs of watery beer, as the men keep cheering. Soon, he’s drunk, in a game of pool, against a guy who is absolutely schooling him.

“We’re not gonna put any money on the line, Ricky, we wouldn’t do that to you.” Buck laughs.

Rodrick sways, lining up his cue on the table.

“Now, once he gets his first paycheck, that’s a different story!”

Everybody laughs.

He sinks one ball, then fails horribly, as the men around him laugh. Hours seem to go by, as everybody kicks his ass in pool. Maybe this is what Buck had meant by ‘initiation’?

Eventually, he finds himself giving his keys to a large man in overalls.

“You said you lived downtown? I’ll drive you, don’t want the cops on your ass.” His voice is deep, grumbly.

Rodrick nods, nearly passing out as he’s driven home in his own van. The man parks outside his apartment complex.

“I’m Vaughn, by the way.” Vaughn tosses Rodrick his keys, laughing, “I’ll see you tomorrow, if you’re up.”

Rodrick gives a weak wave, shoving his keys into his pocket and stumbling up to his apartment.

“Where have you been?” Ward sits on the couch, legs crossed.

“Got a job.” Rodrick slurs, hanging up his jacket by the door.

“Dude, your girlfriend is so cool.” Ward doesn’t seem to notice, instead grinning at the TV.

He freezes, feeling his heart jump out of his chest.

Rodrick is stunned as he sees you, almost letting himself smile. Then he sees the rage burning in your eyes, looking straight into the camera as Mike rambles and a crowd cheers behind you.

It feels like you're looking right at him.

Guilt washes over him, and he wobbles on his feet.

“She's… not my girlfriend.” Rodrick walks off, shutting himself in the bathroom.

~

She tries not to shatter, kaleidoscope style

Personality changes behind her red smile

Every new problem brings a stranger inside

Helplessly forcing one more new disguise

~

tag list: @crumpets-are-better-with-jam

[optiwashere]

Are there any fics about Asheera and Shadowheart talking about specific scenes that the do in the fics? I was reading Bend to Break to Mend (10/10 will read again) and although it's implied in the text I.e "tapping Shadowheart's toe on Asheera's boot" I don't know if there is any out right discussion about it.

Id guess a reason would be Shadowheart being raised the way she was would make it almost impossible to directly express those desires but she must have said something right?

Hey anon!

Thanks for reading that fic, it's one of my personal favorites of my own work 💜 The third chapter still hits me emotionally, at least if I can stomach to reread it without wanting to make a million edits lol.

Bit of a long post.

If I assume you mean a type of setup scene — kink negotiation, discussing safety measures — then that's something that I think, personally, works better as allusion most of the time rather than as a fully written scene.

We know that they've discussed safety in the scene you're talking about, and I made sure to use that "tell" multiple times in that chapter to really highlight this. There's one point where I wrote that Shadowheart uses a "halting command" or similar language for the same reason.

Additionally, the CNC scene you're talking about is referenced briefly in chapter one as Shadowheart having shared the fantasy.

So it's not that they don't talk about this, but rather that I prefer to weave it into the writing instead of having a stock "Negotiation Scene -> Kink Scene -> Aftercare" sequence all the time where the characters go point-by-point about what they want to do.

That said, I've definitely had that kinda sequence! Her Private Shore, Make a Mess of Her, Rope Has the Finest Touch... maybe more? Some of the Kinktober fics are a bit fuzzy in my head lol. Her Private Shore at least is a fic where, like parts of Bend to Break to Mend, Shadowheart specifically talks about wanting to indulge in kink or various types of kink.

Otherwise, in shorter works, I tend to assume the reader will buy in to the type of scene as something they've discussed beforehand. Not that that can't be interesting to read, but it's genuinely difficult to thread the needle from "kink negotiation" to "sexy scene" in fiction. In real life, we can't allude to discussions or boundaries and we have to set them early on. In fiction, if written well enough, the reader can be led to believe that the discussion's already been had.

It's a very fine line that I try to walk between showing negotiation or safety setups all while keeping things spicy and fun. I don't wanna turn the erotica element into a "how-to guide" so to speak.

As for the last bit...

Shadowheart would have issues pushing for these things but is, in a moment of excitement for some reason or another, delighted to share fantasies that she might not have been able to indulge in before. In-game, if you have group sex with the drow, it's literally said that she has fantasies she's all too willing to express once she's in the moment. Asheera and Shadowheart don't wind up doing that, so it's generally part of the fic buy-in. But Shadowheart is also more open with Asheera in the fics anyways because I assume the readers are familiar with the game.

It's also not like Sharrans reject sexuality, but it's used as a tool rather than for pleasure.

So Shadowheart might not necessarily have trouble expressing sexual desire, but rather that she has a very skewed view on what sex is and that causes issues for her.

[bettimbellis]

A Collage (of Yelling)

I saw someone do something like this to advertise their fic- they linked the fic, and then put in a little collage of various comment snippets. I can’t find the post to show off- someone please do let me know if you’ve seen that, I want to credit them. 

Either way, my Hollow Knight post-Black-Egg-Temple fic (linked here) has 209 comment threads on it. I’ve gone through and found some bits. These bits were mostly chosen for entertainment/intrigue value out of context- a lot of my favorite comments didn’t get in. 

Got some good reviews there, I think. Anyone wanna see the collection I have of Discord screenshots from folks yelling at me about this fic?  (Seriously though, thank all of y’all who comment, yell in the tags, whatever- I love it. Really helps keep the writing muse going, too.)

Image descriptions below the cut. 

[Image ID: a collection of bits of text placed on a light green background, in several groups. Text is as follows. 

Excuse me who gave you the right to hit me with this line at seven in the morning”, with an arrow pointing to the left. also it feels like there are many things to be concerned about lmao  God, Hollow is such a poor baby. A lanky wet cat left in the rain. Hollow, that feeling is love, dear, no need to feel so confused about it. Hornet, my sad dumb little spider baby, go to bed. in summary holy shit this is fucked sounds like stressTM can these characters stop being so relatable good Lird *smacks my face* Hornet. Hornet. the fuck HOLY FUCKING SHIT [all caps] It was so soft!!!! And then it became *so goddamn angsty-* *squints harder*  Wet rag is my new favorite character. *thunks my head on a wall* Gosh darn it Oro course you had to have integrity But also OW MY HEART?! SHATTERED?1 POOR BABY HOLLOW IM GONNA CRY Gosh dang. The last chapter was a little lighter, but apparently you were just holding back for this one.  (Chp. 3) I stg this whole chapter made my emotions whip back and forth between “awww :)” and “awwh :(” and “oh. Oh no baby do not think like that”.  Augh. just, augh. / ...except that bit at the end. ...except that last sentence, ‘cause, yeah. / *hides face in hands* this has been exhausting for everyone, apparently. Hollow knight or: when you are so touch starved that your standards for touch that you want are somewhere in the abyss that has spawned you.  Whatever the FUCK happened in the last section is Oh Lord Oh God What The Heeeeeellll Ohhhh My Goood No Waaayyyy... Will be waiting for the next chapter STARING at ao3...

i was so relieved to read this that i accidentally put my phone in airplane mode trying to respond “it is startled out of its pleasant memory-” pLEASANT???? PLEASANT!?! Hollow no. HOLLOW NO- / why does this for some reason almost feel like fluff.  My urge to keysmash at you is strong Just. God. Everything about this is so fucked in so many ways.

Something about this line just makes me want to. Maybe stab the king in the chest. Repeatedly. And then throw them off a bridge. Idk Actually many things about this chapter make me want to stab the king in the chest repeatedly and then throw them off a bridge. Because *holy shit* Hollow, honey, you have so much trauma. OMG ghost, what have you done [stressed emoji] Okay then. Well. Um. That’s a lot to happen.  God it’s such a mess Ah yes, the eldritch nonsense trying to approximate a living creature, my beloved PK you ass. PK you absolute ASS get over here I wanna hit you with something heavy-  oh / im immediately punched in the face okay thank you for that Right off the bat I am mildly excited about this chapter solely because you played with text formatting and that makes my serotonin levels rise. I don’t know why but thank you for that.  CONFUSION SOUP I’M FHDHDJFKFKGH I wanna join the cuddle pile :<<< let me in [holding Hollow gently in both hands] / I will get you all the fresh-dirt-scented soap Fucking superb you funky little vessels. Oh boy! Spiraling!

Oh this chapter hurts ‘specially bad. Because it wasn’t enough to be possessed and neglected and quite literally tortured and driven insane, now we gotta have more medical issues and amnesia-  I fuckign cried at this one, oh my god. Pain is always a tearjerker, but it’s nothing compared to someone who’s been in pain so long finally getting that first big moment of *realizing they’re wanted* and *heard* and *healing*  And I gotta say, (this is gonna sound bad) I really do love Hollow’s victim blaming. Or how it’s written. I love how you write characters in pain <333 “Oh, just a quick chapter to read before bed,” I thought to myself. “I will enjoy it and feel a normal and manageable level of emotions about it.” / ...Thanks for making me all teary in the wee hours, now I’ll never get to sleep! (...I mean this as praise.) Oh. Oh Hollow. So wrapped up in the need to be useful. So incapable still of seeing that their own gut-wrenching familial love might be returned in kind, whether they have some designated purpose for their existence or not.  Yeah. Relieved. / Oh, Hollow... You have already left kudos here :) [three times] / Have I ever been told the definition of insanity?  honestly the body horror was the /least/ disturbing thing in this chapter. not to say! that it was not disturbing - even then, less the horror and more the. context. i want to punch TPK. into a lake. that is on fire.

First comment of my first reread, and MAN. This opening hits just as hard the second time.  Keep in mind Hollow Knight was made by Australian people Hollow 100% deserves a nice date at the palace if they so wish. anyway, I feel very emo about Hollow, all the time.  HOLLOW IS LETTING THEMSELVES HAVE WILL, LET’S GOOOOOO Ghost is doing Fine:tm:, Hornet is doing Fine:tm:, Hollow is *actually* doing pretty well Good news! Hollow is an emotional wreck!  Hornet is doing sooo normal right now (lying).

TLDR; amazing story, glorious update, poor Grimm, I Am Desperate For Shield Lore, someone please tell Ghost it isn’t their fault, the entire gaggle of siblings needs a group hug, I Am Going To Put The Pale King’s Corpse Through A Shredder, and Hornet needs another good cry. 

anyways fuck you for writing this keep it up

[elegyofthemoon]

2nd eruption was SO GOOD it actually took me months to finish because it was so heavy emotionally to get through. but A++ manga id recommend it to ppl who dont even play the game haha

im so glad you love fu hua omg, youre gonna be so happy even more so down the line. and that chapter youre on is when i started falling for the hi3 story, as well as the first open world. when you get to the first open world/finish its main story, let me know! i think that might be a good time to send you the sakukallen event. itll still be confusing without context but id more than love to share what i remember of the story surrounding it

hoyo definitely seems to have learned from each preceeding game in terms of chronology and making things "easier" to get into imo. but you mention you have ideas and speculation and i'm all *eyes emoji*. tell me them! i wanna hear!!!

and ty for the well wishes and for your kind words over the years. i feel like we've both grown so much and come so far, its quite breathtaking

YES!!! It was really good and such an emotional rollercoaster, but I loved getting to see Anti-Entropy and Schicksal actually working together since in game, someone (forgot who) was raising the question of both of them being rather similar in function and goal so it was cool to see them come together in a way (albeit the story getting rewritten that Schicksal was the one to fight on their own), and all the characters within the manga was soooo good ; w; As I said, it was supposed to last me a month but. I couldn't put it down asdkjlfah Even now I'm like "yay time for bed!! lets go read the manga :DD" and realize. I already finished it :x

FU HUA YAAAAY that's exciting to hear!! I'm already liking the potential tbh because like with some of the flashbacks in Second Eruption I was thinking like >:OOOO WAIT IS SHE THE ORIGINAL OWNER OF FENGHUANG??????? I had a speculation for a while anyways that Fu Hua is much older than she appears within the game and getting confirmation that she is in fact older made me go :O IT WAS ALREADY A LOT TO FIND OUT THAT SHE WAS THE IMMORTAL CELESTIA (read Elan Palatinus before) so I couldn't help but be fond of her heheh I'm super excited though :>

Do you mean Sakura Samsara? :0 I actually finished through the main story! And the...side? (Right now I feel like the side story ended abruptly or something. idk if I just have to level up to get more story? but-) That's how I got more attached to sakukallen (with uhh Gratitude Arc being what piqued my interest in them). If that's the open world you mean, then 👀👀eyyyy

forgive me..... my brain needs to be prompted about specific speculations bc my recall is so bad aklsjfh but!! if something comes up i'll dm you :>

:O actually that made me think...I didn't realize just how long we've known each other?? I honestly can't remember when we met (but I'm pretty sure it was when I was ending high school/starting undergrad), which means it has been quite a while!! Much time has passed, and we've experienced a lot with it but it is such a nice thought to think about growing together with a friend :'> And there's still more to come!! Isn't that great?? I hope that it'll be good for the both of us and we keep growing 💪🏼💪🏼

[euphoricfilter]

About DTIK (sorry that I was late reading your reply), I think it's really good. Not sure about tumblr cuz it's not as convenient as ao3 in terms of searching and filtering fics. I checked your fic on ao3; maybe change your rating though cuz you put general audience with a smut tag😅. One of the good things about ao3 is the hits really, you can see how many people have clicked your fic. I find your TBAH and DTIK really unique because.. really, not many people write about those. 9 tails and 4 arms demon. And I think that many people post their fics on ao3 because you can just go crazy and write bizzare fics and most readers know that, especially with the extra warning if there's below 18 reader. I know I'm all talk cuz I don't reblog fics on tumblr, but I love to leave kudos and bookmarks to good fics on ao3. I'm sorry, reblogging just kinda takes effort (I don't like disorganization with the tags and I like to stay anonymous here); ao3 is kind of just one two clicks away. I hope you still enjoy writing it, because even if it's not on high demand, if you like it, I think you can finish it. I'm sorry if I cross the line. I just really wish you want to continue it

you’re okay my lovely!!

oh yeah, DTIK was the first fic i ever posted on ao3 so the tags and all that are probably wrong because i didn’t know how to use it LMAO

maybe if i ever repost DTIK id keep it on ao3, i guess it did okay on tumblr, but i find that readers on here mostly don’t like super long fics, or i just didn’t brand it right or maybe something else. tumblr is still a mystery i’ve not figured out quite yet

a lot of people said the same things about TBAH and DTIK when they were only 2 fics on this page 🫡 i used to be so happy having exclusively unique fics too :(( that would have been so fun if that had become my trademark as a writer but i guess it wasn’t meant to be

hmm maybe exclusively on ao3 is the way to go then, i used to read most of my fics from ao3 so i’m familiar with how easy the system is, and maybe then lack of interaction on tumblr won’t weigh me down and kinda make me push the series to the side

i’ve talked about this with someone before on here about his disorganized storing fics are. especially because reblogs help a lot, but then it kinda clogs your page up and likes are useless because now i just have fics i like laying in the depths of my liked tab and i doubt they’ll ever see the light of day again 🥲 i think i go through a crisis every other month at this point, wanting to just re-start my whole blog because it feels like a huge mess and i never know how to fix it.

honestly, the only reason i started posting on tumblr was because of the inbox. it felt like having the anon feature gave people like me, who don’t like being perceived a chance to communicate and i thought, if i posted on here then at least some people might come in my inbox and that would be cute and then we can vibe. everything else about this app is kinda shitty

you’re not crossing the line at all!! i think if anything you’ve helped me out!! i truly do love that series more than anything i’ve ever written, it’s just the lack of enthusiasm from other people kinda made me feel like i shouldn’t waste other peoples time by writing it, like why would they wanna see that on their dashboard, you know???

i said in the last ask, but i have part of the first chapter already rewritten, and obviously the rest of the series isn’t gonna be hard to catch up with in terms of rewriting, i’m not changing the plot. just adapting the style slightly

ahhh you know i used to be so excited for people to finally read the ending because i just knew that if people were invested in the series and they read the final chapter they’d be like ???? oh 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️

thank you for lighting the spark of inspiration for me, and thank you for loving the series 🫂 it means the world to me that you like it and want to know what happens next 💞 i don’t think i’ve abandoned it quite yet and i’m sorry you’ve had to wait so long for any sort of update

[inyoursheets]

ladies you know what time it is

[stefanmikaleson1864]

I’ll Protect You Part Four !

A/N: This is the last chapter I hope everyone enjoys it !!! If you like my work please comment like and reblog it means a lot to see interactions on my work !!! 

Jay’s POV 

Y/N was sleeping and I just held her hand . Knowing she was back and she was safe it was such a relief

. I felt like the weight of the world was lifted off my shoulders. Will had to go the ER needed him and there wasn’t much to do up here. 

I kept checking my phone to see if there was any updates. Which there wasn’t and it was making me antsy. 

Part of me wanted to get out there and catch these guys myself but I didn’t want to leave Y/N when she woke up I didn’t want her to be alone. 

I knew they were on their way to get these sons of bitches but it was still hard not knowing why not to mention the case we had was pretty shaky.

 Making the murder chargers stick was going to be rough. I know we had the money they were getting from the rehab but not knowing why it was hard to prove it was criminal. 

This whole case was nothing but hard. There were no clear lines about what's going on and this is why they're doing it

. I was hoping when Y/N wakes up she could explain more of what was happening. 

She could explain anything leading up to now and even what happened yesterday when she was kidnapped.

A couple of hours had past and Y/N was still sleeping; she needed her rest. I was sitting on the chair next to her half paying attention to the television.  

Next thing you know there was a knock on the door. 

I sat up and then the door opened and it was Hailey and Voight coming in. They walked in and stood at the bottom of Y/N’s bed. 

I instantly grabbed Y/N”s hand and squeezed it. 

“Hey how is she doing what did the doctor say” Hailey asked 

“She’s okay she had low blood sugar and was in a little shock so she;s just resting now” I said 

“Finally some good news that’s a relief” Voight said

“What do we know what’s going on” I asked 

“We got them there down in the cage” Voight said 

“I wanna go and see them are they talking” I asked 

“No there not saying anything denied being the ones who kidnapped Y/N said they found her there and that’s it” Hailey said 

“Well there lying Y/N ID them that’s enough to make the kidnapping case stick so we send them to county and make them sweat” I said 

“Jay all we know is Y/N said that’s them we don’t have enough to make a kidnapping case stick she could have just saw them in the building and that’s it” Voight said 

“Yeah that should be plenty and we have made more with less” I said 

“I get it Jay I really get how your feeling right now but we have to make this right for Y/N we can’t let them get away with this” Voight said 

“So we have to wait for Y/N to wake up and we get her whole story we do a line up and then we go from there make it air tight so these guys go away for life” Hailey said 

“Yeah Yeah I guess do we have anything else” I asked 

“No were right where we are the only one who can maybe make sense of this is Y/N” Hailey said. 

“This whole thing doesn’t make sense has anyone talked to the people at the rehab find out what’s going on there” I asked 

“No we were headed over there now we just wanted to come by and make sure Y/N was okay and then were going to talk to the owner” Hailey said. 

“Okay good you guys go I’ll call when Y/N wakes up” I said 

“Don’t worry Jay we are going to get them I promise” Voight said 

“Yeah thanks” I said 

Hailey walked over and placed a hand on my shoulder and squeezed it and I smiled up at her. They got left after that leaving no answers or nothing. 

A few minutes later I heard a small groan coming from Y/N and she was waking up. 

“Hey hey there take it easy” I told her 

“My Head hurts” She said opening up her eyes and looking around. 

“Your going to be okay thank god your awake” I said to her 

“How long was I out” She asked 

“Not long you slept overnight, it's the next day now” I said placing my hand on her face. Rubbing her cheek with my finger. 

“It’s early in the morning around 7 am” I told her. 

“Are you okay” She asked me 

“I’m the one that’s supposed to be worried about you, not the other way around” I said to her. 

“You looked pretty messed up you got bags under your eyes” Y/N said reaching up and touching my face. 

I laughed and she started laughing too. 

“Ouch that hurts i got feelings you know” I said to her 

“Awe I’m sorry you look so nice with your racoon eyes” She said smiling. 

“Yeah okay thank you so much for that” I said to her laughing. 

Y/N then tried to sit up and grabbed my hand to help her pull up. 

“Hey there slow down be careful” I said to her helping her sit up carefully. 

“I’m okay i’m good” She said 

“Hey dad can i ask you something” she asked 

“Yeah of course anything” I said to her. 

“Why did they take me did you catch them” She asked 

It broke my heart knowing I couldn’t look my daughter in the eyes and say we got them and give  her the answers she wanted. 

“Um No were still working on it we really need you to make a statement and tell your side so we can catch these guys” I said to her. 

“Yeah of course what do you need me to do” She asked 

“We can wait until you get better there is no need to rush you need to rest” I told her 

“I’m good I am just  hurt my head hurts but other than that I’m okay I wanna help” she said to me. 

“Okay are you sure because once we start we can’t walk it back and I don’t wanna upset you or make things worse” I said to her 

‘Yeah I wanna do these so we can catch these guys so they don’t hurt anyone else” Y/N said 

“Okay so tell me what happened from the beginning, don't leave anything out, nothing is too small” I said to her. 

She got quiet for a moment just looking at her hands and I could tell this was hard for her everything was still fresh. 

I squeezed her hand and she looked at me with a tear running down her eye. 

“I’m here with you your not alone they can’t hurt you anymore” I said 

She nodded and then began telling her story. 

“I got off school early for the long weekend so i wanted to come home because i was feeling home sick. When i got home i knew where you kept your spare key but then a neighbor called the cops thinking i was breaking in” Y/N Said 

“Then the cops showed up and they recognized me and let me go. I went in and then about an hour later I heard a knock on the door they said they were the cops that you sent them over that I wasn’t allowed to be there and you didn’t give me permission to be there” Y/N said 

She got quiet and i knew it was getting harder for her. 

“Hey it’s okay your safe okay” I said 

She nodded and then waited a second before speaking up. 

“I texted you to tell them that wasn’t right but then you called me and that’s when you said you never sent anyone over. They came in the room and they pulled out a gun and told me to keep walking.” Y/N said 

“What did they look like do you know the cops who came to the door”  I asked 

“Yeah they were the ones I pointed out earlier” Y/N said. 

“Your doing good what happened next” I asked 

“We drove for a while. They had me blindfolded and they had my hands cuffed. We finally stopped and they took me into a building. Then they handcuffed me to the radiator” Y/N said 

“Did they say why or anything at all” I asked. 

“Yeah I asked them why they said because I was going to ruin everything and they couldn’t let that happen” Y/N said 

“Ruin what” I asked 

“The one did say anything he left the shorter one stayed behind he looked like he was sorry he had a sad look on his face” Y/N said 

“He told me that they made it seem like I was talking to mom but I wasn’t they said Mom didn’t know either. They wanted to make it seem like I was the one who wanted to reached out to her and they were going to use it as leverage” Y/N said 

She took a deep breathe and then started again 

“They said that then Gemma found out what they were doing so they killed her and set her up to make it seem like she was the one who was pretending to me. So they set up her after she died made phone calls from her phone” Y/N said 

“What did mom have on them” I asked 

“He said that the rehab was paying them to keep drugs in the faciality so people would keep coming back” Y/N said 

“They would make bust from drug deals then they would sell the rehab the drugs they would give it to the patients to keep them there for the insurance money” Y/N said 

“Mom figured out what was going on but didn’t know was actually selling the drugs so she went to the police. They put her in the safe house and assigned the two guys to her case” Y/N said 

“She told them what was going on not knowing who she was talking to. Then he said they came up with the plan to make it seem like she was talking to me to and they were gonna hurt me if she said anything” Y/N said 

“But then mom talked to Gemma and she had no idea what was going on and mom talked to another girl at the rehab who recognized the two detectives selling drugs to the man who ran the center” Y/N Said 

“Mom was going to turn them in but then they killed her and the two other girls they said they kidnapped me because who ever would start investigating the case would find out I wasn’t talking to mom and it would draw suspicion” Y/N said. 

Everything now made sense now. Why Emma and the two other girls were killed and why they took Y/N. We had enough to nail these bastards to the wall. 

I got up and picked up my phone.  I looked at Y/n 

“You did so great we got enough to put these guys away” I said 

“I’m going to call voight and fill him in” I said to her 

She nodded and I walked out the hall. I called voight to tell them we got him the phone rang and then picked up 

“Jay what’s going on” Voight said 

“We got them Y/N woke up and told me everything they were selling drugs to the rehab to get the patients to stay longer for the insurance they took Y/N because she was a loose end they couldn’t have out there Hopper admitted to her” I said 

“Good we need to get that on paper and I’ll send it over to the DA but Jay before we head over there are doing this my way or your way” Voight asked 

I knew what he meant by that and I couldn’t do it like that Y/N deserved to look those guys in the eye and tell her story the other girls families also deserved justice knowing they died just trying to help. 

“No we do it the right way” I said 

“Okay were officially charge them you stay there and be with Y/N” Voight said. 

“I will thanks sarge” I said 

I walked back into the room and looked at Y/N 

“I talked to voight were gonna nail these bastards they won’t ever hurt you again” I said 

“Thank you dad” She said 

“ Of course I will always protect you no matter what” I said to her. 

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

 A few months had passed sense Y/N came home. She was struggling but she was also working on it and getting better.  

Y/N took some time off of school and stayed home. I wish she was home on different circumstances but it was nice to have her here. 

Y/N made an official statement and a positive ID and with that Barnes and Hooper made a deal to three life sentences and the kidnapping of Y/N.

 It was true justice for the families and I was glad that Y/N didn’t have to testify. 

It was hard knowing that Emma was gone. I wish her and Y/N at some got to meet and talk.

 Knowing she died trying to do the right thing was something that took a toll on me too. 

Me and Y/N went to her funeral and paid our respects. It was a good way for both of us to say goodbye. I wish Emma had it better but now i just wished she was at piece. 

Things between me and Y/N were good I went to therapy with her to work on things. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy when she came home but I knew things were going to be okay because she can home. 

Me Hailey and Y/n were all together and were were a family and we were going to be okay because we were stronger together 

[nobody7102]

The Spider-Man and Spinneret: Epilogue

Warnings: Semi-NWH Spoilers, fluffy all around

Pairings: Tobey!Peter Parker x Reader

A/N: This is it, the last chapter! I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Chapter 13

Master-List

Letting out a groan, Y/N's senses all took a moment to catch up with her body, her eyes fluttered open to see Peter leaning over her with a look of concern on his face.

“Are you okay? Everything feels okay, your not missing anything important”

“Other than my civilian clothes and my ID, I think I’m good” she joked, Peter smiled offering his hand to her helping her to her feet.

“Yeah we’re gonna have to figure out how to set up a previous profile for you.” Peter placed his hands on shoulder to steady her. For the first time they took each other in. Y/N noticed how Peter’s eyes held a speck of blue and how amidst the stubble on his jaw he had a small scar along his chin.

Peter watched how Y/N’s hands shook lightly, taking them in his, he brought her knuckles up to his lips and gave them a light kiss.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Just thinking…now that its just you… Peter Parker, what do we do now?” she wrapped an arm around his waist, he responded by slinging his arm around her shoulders.

“I was thinking about takeout and a movie, and we could talk?” he suggested, shook her head chuckling.

“I was thinking about something along the lines of buying me some clothes so I don't have to sit in spandex, But yeah that sounds nice too” taking his hand from her shoulders he walked over to his closet and pulled out a t-shirt and exercise shorts that looked oddly familiar to Y/N.

“Last time I was over to visit May she did my laundry for me, and I’m pretty sure she shrunk the shirt when she washed it, and I’ve never worn those shorts. Will they be okay?” Y/N just laughed, maybe everything was gonna be more than okay in this universe. So she nodded while taking the clothes.

She paused reflecting over his words. “You still have Aunt May?” She smiled from ear to ear.

He nodded “You don’t?” his eyes became sad.

Y/N looked at the clothes she held, picking some lint off of them.

“She passed in 2009… it was very-” she stopped herself, clearing her throat. “She was at peace, it was at home in her bed…. She said she saw Ben in her last minutes….so I’m grateful she had him there for her…”

Walking back over to her, Peter embraced her. “I’m sorry” he whispered before pulling out of the hug.

Walking out of the room, Y/N watched as Peter stood over to a table filled with clutter, and sorted through before picking up a piece of paper and walking over to Y/N.

“There’s this Chinese restaurant a few blocks away that I get takeout from all the time, do you want anything specific?” He handed her the paper, which held a menu.

Y/N just shook her head, setting the paper down. “Get me whatever you normally get, with a side of white rice.”

He nodded before motioning around the small apartment to a door, “Bathroom is through that door if you wanna take a shower” he moved to motion to the area around them “The living room and kitchen” he took a few steps to the right motioning to the hallway “My room is on the left, guestroom is one on the right. I will be back with our food in a bit” Y/N nodded watching as he left. She went over to the bathroom, as her feet met the tile she finally saw the state of herself.

Peeling her mask away from her face, blood crusted on the left side of her forehead from the fight, other than that dirt was the only other thing covering her face. Peeling away at her suit, the fabric practically begged to stay on her skin because of how it was soaked in blood and sweat.

As the suit came off Y/N came to notice the scrapes and bruises that were littered over her body. Turning on the shower she waited letting the room fill with steam before stepping in and letting the hot water run over her. Letting the water wash away all of her aches and pains even if it would only be temporary, it wasn’t anything super fancy, just something to wash the day off. By the time she stepped out of the shower, she heard Peter shuffling around the apartment.

Quickly drying off she threw the spare clothes on and as she exited the bathroom she chuckled and shook her head. The clothes fit the same as they had all those years ago when she spent that first night with Peter.

Walking around the apartment she took in the apartment, noticing the paint wearing away on the small patio but only in one spot, presumably the spot where Peter would push off the ledge or sit on, but which it was for sure, Y/N couldn’t tell.

She noticed an indent in the ceiling roughly the size of a body, pointing to it she looked over to Peter.

“Is that from you?” his face started to flush and small smirk came to his lips, he just continued to clear off the coffee table as he gave his response

“Yeah, sometime being upside down helps me think better”

Nodding her attention then went to the book that Peter had set up on shelves around the apartment. The variety of poetry, and science spewed about the shelves, and how some spines of the books had been cracked.

Her attention finally moved to focus on the photos placed here and there. The first photo she took note of was a photo of Peter and May, she smiled that his May was still around considering what they had just come from, not to mention the May in her world had left some time ago.

She then moved to a set of photos he had of himself, Harry, and MJ. The thought was weird of Harry and MJ not being around, especially since in her universe they were married.

It took Y/N a moment to fully think of what she had truly done. To realize that she was truly starting anew.

The thought overcame her so much she had to sit down. In her old universe, would Harry and MJ miss her? Had they known she left and would never return. Wiping a few stray tears from her eyes she pushed the thoughts to the side, for even though she felt horrible about leaving them she knew deep down that now Harry and MJ were truly safe from the dangers her and Peter had brought upon them. And in a way it brought her peace.

She didn’t even notice how Peter sat down next to her until he placed a hand on her shoulder snapping her back to reality.

“Hey, are you with me?” she just nodded with a soft smile. “Okay….” he took a moment still scanning over her just to make sure before he continued,

“I hope you’re okay with garlic pork, crab rangoons and egg rolls” he got up from his spot bringing the take out over to the couch, setting it on the coffee table in front of them. They ate sitting in silence for a few moments before Peter spoke.

“How about, tomorrow I will take the day off and we can get you adjusted to this world… Maybe bring you to meet my May”

Y/N nodded, setting her takeout down on the coffee table, she turned her body to fully face Peter.

“Can we talk about the statue…and what you said….we can totally do it later or another day if you want to but, its not really everyday that you kiss someone who looks like your ex and then move in with them to another universe.”

Peter nodded, setting his food down as well,

“This feels wrong considering in a way I watched you die…” y/N started “...But I need to know if you really meant it when you kissed me, and if you really meant what you said after too” she shifted her eyes never breaking contact with Peter’s as she spoke. “When you said tha-”

“Y/N” he stopped her “I meant every word that I said. I can’t explain it….but you have this pull, in Ned’s dining room I just wanted to hug you when you called me Pete but obviously that would have been a bit weird” he stated “and in the lab, watching you work… I wanted to stand by you and watch you work the whole time… I want to be with you Y/N, nothing can change that” he smirked resting his hand on her knee, Y/N smiled nodding.

“Since we’re on the subject of weird things…what's your Harry like?” He hummed, his thumb rubbing circles on her knee. Y/N snorted, placing her hand over his rubbing curled on the back of his hand.

“He’s cocky as hell” she laughed “I don’t know how my Mary Jane puts up with it… He’s very sweet, like a big brother to me” she rested her head on his shoulder.

He nodded, glad that Harry was out there somewhere living a good life.

The life that he deserved.

Y/N hummed for a moment before shifting,

“Hold out your hand?” She looked to Peter, he did as instructed. Her hands went to her neck taking off the necklace that held Peter’s engagement ring and took hers off from her finger and placed them in Peter’s hands.

His brows furrowed, “What are you doing?”

She sighed “if we’re doing this… I need the full refresh….and I love those… for the longest time they were my life line….but I don’t wanna build a new life on the preconceived notion of my old one” she paused “other than your name and our hobby of course, you can do what you want with them… but I want this to just be us” she rested her arm on the couch and rested her head on it.

A small smile formed on his lips, closing his hand around the rings he set them on the coffee table before leaning back to Y/N, placing both hands just below her jawline. Pulling her closer for a kiss.

A proper kiss, one that lasted for a few moments and left both sides longing for more. His eyes shined as they stared back at Y/N, a rosy hue covering her face.

“This might be a little forward to say…… but I think I love you Y/N” he hummed

She smiled, ear to ear pulling him in for another kiss. After a moment she pulled away smiling still.

“I love you too, Peter Parker”

____________________________________

“Life has always been crazy for me, and over the past 22 years of being a Spinneret, this is where life led me. To a new Universe, three new Peters, the closing of one chapter and the beginning of the next. The day Peter Parker died he told me he couldn’t wait to see me again, in a way he made his wish come true…so here I am now, a new life, with the same Peter only with a few differences.”

“Life has a cruel and funny way of bringing people together, for us, we had to lose those we loved and quite literally traverse the galaxies to find one and other.”

“This responsibility we share, it's a gift and a curse, and ours for now and forever.”

“But now we know now that we aren’t alone…and we’re still just like everyone else you know ”

“We’re just Your Friendly Neighborhood Spinneret and Spider-Man”

___________________

A/N: I really hope you guys enjoyed the series! It was an absolute blast to write, if you guys would like I am absolutely open to write out some of the adventures of Peter and Y/N if that’s something you’d all want to read. Other than that I can’t wait to share my next story with you guys.

[yelena-bellova]

Safe Haven: tfatws!Bucky Barnes x fem!reader - Chapter Three

chapter two - Chapter Three: Ceasefire - chapter four

Series Masterlist

Plot: Bucky, Sam and Y/n visit Baltimore and unearth a long kept, heartbreaking secret. Bucky and Y/n’s tension comes to a head when they meet with Dr. Raynor.

Word Count: 7.3k

Warnings: spoilers for episode. 2, angst, language, racial undertones, racial profiling, PTSD, mention of torture, mention of suicide, fluffy angst, Walker is an asshole and Y/n is a bad bitch, the start of the slow burn 🔥

A/N: This shit was heavy to write because of the subject matter so hopefully the fluff towards the end makes up for all the angst I’m about to put you through lol. Honestly, it’s so hard to write this series not having the ending of the show yet 😂 Like I’m trying to build this and I know where I need it to go but it all depends on the show. This week’s episode was 👀 and I’m already drafting in my head. Anyways, enjoy!

----

Military craft bathrooms, I had found out, were not an ideal place to apply makeup.

I had woken up in the early morning hours stiff, achy and with a deep purple bruise on my cheek. I’d done my best to conceal it as to not attract attention wherever Bucky was taking us, but I wasn’t a magician.

Sam and I had yet to speak about me going home, but the tense exchange we’d shared before I passed out still hung over us. It wasn’t like we’d never fought, but the reasoning had never been over one of our lives being endangered. I didn’t want to leave him, but it was futile to argue the point.

The neighborhood that we were passing through didn’t look all that different from New Orleans. Bucky still had yet to tell us who we were here to see, only that it was important that Sam met him. I was done asking questions and trailed behind them on the sidewalk, my hands shoved in my jacket pockets and my head hung in defeat. I’d tried to do the superhero thing and failed miserably.

“Hey, it’s Black Falcon! What’s up?” “It’s just Falcon, kid,” Sam replied to the boy sat in front of a chain-linked fence with his friend.

“No, no, my daddy told me it’s Black Falcon,” the kid insisted. 

Sam stopped in front of them, “Is it because I’m black and I’m the Falcon?” “Well, technically, I mean, yes,” he shrugged. “So are you, like, Black Kid?” The kid’s friend burst into laughter and Sam did the same, “I got him, right?”

“Whatever, man…” the kid sat down, I was just about to pass him when he stopped me, “Are you a superhero too?” Sam stopped and looked back at me, his lips pressed in a thin frown. His eyes were sympathetic but I wasn’t in any mood to discuss my unsuccessful attempt to enter his world. I gave a sad smile to the kid, “No, I’m not.” I patted his shoulder and left, Sam chose to walk with me instead of ahead of me.

Bucky was already on the house’s front porch when we climbed the stairs, he banged on the door marked with a ‘No Trespassing’ sign. We waited a few seconds before it opened to reveal a boy, 16 or 17 maybe.

“We’re here to see Isaiah,” Bucky said. “Nobody named Isaiah live here,” the teen replied.

“Look, we just want to talk to him,” Bucky gently pushed.

“You must not hear what I just said, you ain’t getting in this house. Ya’ll can leave now.” Bucky dropped his head and shut his eyes, looking as if what he was about to say pained him. “Tell him the guy from the bar in Goyang is here,” his voice dropped, “He’s gonna know what that means.”

The boy’s eyes bounced between the three of us before backing away from the door, “All right, wait here.” “Nice kid,” Sam commented once he was gone, “How do you know this guy?” “I used to, we had a skirmish during the Korean War,” Bucky explained. The screened door opened once again to reveal the teen, “Today’s your lucky day. He said he wanna see for himself.”

Bucky led the way inside followed by Sam and I. Where the living room met the dining room was where a tall, grey haired black man stood. “Isaiah,” Bucky greeted him as we stepped inside. “Look at you,” Isaiah said, taking cautious steps toward Bucky. “This is, uh, Sam. Sam, this is Isaiah,” Bucky raised his hand toward the man, “He was a hero. One of the ones that HYDRA feared the most, like Steve. We met in ’51.”

“If by met, you mean I whupped your ass, then, yeah,” Isaiah interrupted to correct Bucky’s inaccurate storytelling. “We heard whispers he was on the peninsula, but everyone they sent after him, never came back. So the U.S. military dropped me behind the line to go deal with him,” he spat the last part of the sentence. “I took half that metal arm in that fight in Goyang, but I see he’s managed to grow it back. I just wanted to see if he got the arm back or if he’d come to kill me.” I watched over Sam’s shoulder as Bucky shook his head. “I’m not a killer anymore,” his voice hitched slightly.

“You think you can wake up one day and decide who you wanna be? It doesn’t work like that,” Isaiah’s voice hardened, “Well, maybe it does for folks like you.” There was a pause as Bucky collected himself before we got to the heart of the matter, “Isaiah, the reason we’re here is because there’s more of you and me out there.” 

“You and me…” Isaiah seethed, his eyes boring into Bucky.

“And we need to know how…” “I’m not gonna talk about it anymore,” Isaiah growled before picking up a metal tin and flinging it across the room. Sam threw an arm out to shield me but the tin lodged itself in the wooden paneling of the walls. With that power at his age, Isaiah was undoubtably a Super Soldier. 

He took deliberate steps toward us till he stood only a foot away from Bucky. “You know what they did to me for being a hero? They put my ass in jail,” Isaiah’s voice broke, the traumatic memories were hitting him as he spoke, “For thirty years. People running tests, taking my blood, coming into my cell. Even your people weren’t done with me.” “Isaiah…” Sam said carefully.

“Get out of my house!” Sam and I startled at the sudden noise, but I didn’t fault Isaiah for his reaction. My heart broke for him in fact. Tears had welled in my eyes as he told us fragments of his life, my hand slipped to my mouth to prevent my sobs from escaping. Bucky turned away first, leading me out as Isaiah’s presumed grandson did the same to Sam. He pushed ahead of us both, every emotion possible playing out on his face.

“Sam…” Bucky began as we descended the front steps of the house.

“Why didn’t you tell me about Isaiah? How could nobody bring him up?” Sam angrily pointed a finger towards Bucky, who remained quiet as the three of us walked down the middle of the road. “I asked you a question, Bucky.” “I know…” “Steve didn’t know about him?” Sam asked.

“He didn’t, I didn’t tell him,” Bucky answered, his eyes never leaving the ground.

“How could you not tell him?” I exclaimed, my tears still tracing abstract patterns down my cheeks, “If there were anybody to tell, it would have been him!” “So you’re telling me,” Sam stopped walking and pointed back to Isaiah’s house, “That there was a black Super Soldier decades ago and nobody knew about it?” 

Before Bucky got the chance to answer, the siren on a nearby police car sounded off. Two officers pulled up and exited the vehicle, “Hey.” “What’s up, man?” Sam said.

“Is there a problem here?” one asked, focusing on Sam.

“No, we’re just talking,” he answered, gesturing between the three of us. “We’re fine,” Bucky answered, visibly put out by the interruption.

“Really, we’re fine,” I shakily spoke up, wiping my palms under my wet eyes.

The officers didn’t accept our answers, instead coming closer towards Sam. “Can I see your ID?”

“I don’t have ID, why?”

“Okay, sir,” the officer held up his hands, “Just calm down.” “I am calm,” Sam responded, I could see the anger bubbling below his surface, “What do you want? We’re just standing here talking.” Bucky gestured towards the policemen, “Just give him your ID so we can leave.” The tears I was fighting so hard to control couldn’t be stopped as I watched the scene play out. “No,” Sam protested, “I’m not giving him shit, we’re just talking.” “Officers, there’s nothing going on,” I insisted, sniffling as I tried to speak. “Ma’am,” one of the men approached me, holding his hands out carefully as if to shield me from Sam, “If this man is making you uncomfortable in any way-“ “He’s my brother,” I sidestepped away from the cop, “You’re the only ones making us feel uncomfortable.” “He’s not bothering either of us, do you know who this is?” Bucky gestured towards Sam, I came to stand between both of them and placed a protective hand on Sam’s shoulder. If anything was going down, I was going down with him.

The cop that had briefly stepped away to his car came back and whispered something into his co-worker’s ear. His jaw dropped as he looked Sam over again, this time with a much less aggressive stare. “I am so sorry, Mr Wilson,” the bastard had the audacity to chuckle, “I didn’t recognize you without the goggles. I’m really, really sorry about this.” A second police car came down the street and stopped in front of us. The officers told us to wait as they hurried to try and clean up their mistake. It didn’t matter, the damage had already been done. Neighbors and people passing by were stood outside houses and on the sidewalk watching the scene unfold. And there stood Sam, the leading role of a story these men had written and forced him into. I’d never felt more helpless in that moment when I realized that had he not been recognized, there wouldn’t have been anything I could’ve done to save him.

“I didn’t…I didn’t tell anybody because he had already been through enough,” Bucky said quietly, reeling us back to our original point of conversation.

“Mr. Barnes,” the officer who had tried to cage me from Sam approached Bucky, “There’s a warrant out for your arrest.” “Look, the president pardoned him for all that,” Sam said. “Not for that. You missed your court-mandated therapy. It’s like missing a check-in with your PO. I’m sorry, Mr. Barnes, you’re under arrest.” Resigned was the only word I could think of to describe Bucky’s expression. He willingly followed and allowed them to handcuff him, quickly shaking his head at us as if to apologize for the ridiculousness as he got into the car. The worst part was I knew that if Sam or I were stupid enough to speak up, the consequences would be far worse than our reluctant cooperation. The car drove off, carrying Bucky and all his demons he hadn’t told his therapist about this week.

Sam and I remained frozen in the street, playing the last five minutes back in our heads. In a little house in a corner of Baltimore sat a war torn, wrongfully imprisoned, black Super Soldier who hadn’t had the suddenly privileged lifestyle Steve Rogers had. Isaiah had been beaten down, experimented on and abused for almost half of his life. The samples that had been taken from his body against his will had been used to create the Super Soldiers we’d met, ones that were out for blood. “Let’s get out of here,” Sam muttered, putting a hand on my back and pulling me into his side protectively. I snuck one last glance at Isaiah’s home, praying that whatever time he had left on earth was spent in the peace he deserved.

——

We hitched a cab ride to the downtown police station and were informed at the front desk that Bucky was being released. His therapist was flying in from New York to come and meet with him.

Sam and I sat in the uncomfortable chairs of the waiting area, him on his phone and me zoning out on the wall. The ‘what ifs’ of our confrontation with the police were still swirling around in my head, each one more brutal than the last.

“I’m not leaving,” I blurted out, “After this, I’m not leaving you guys.” Sam sighed and switched off his phone, “I’m not gonna argue this again with you. I’m keeping you safe, I don’t care whether you like it or not.” “Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m feeling,” I turned to him, my eyes watery and my fidgeting fists clenched in my lap. “I’m not going home just so I can sit from a safe distance and worry whether or not you’re gonna die at the hands of some cop who feels brave. Or a bunch of Super Soldiers with a grudge against the world,” I forced the lump building in my throat down, “I’m not going to leave and wait for your body to come back in a casket. The only way I’m going home is if you’re with me.” His lips parted like he was about to say something before deciding against it. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but I could see that my speech had affected him. He pulled me into him, my head laying on his shoulder and his arm around my neck. I had worried for my brother’s life when he was first in the service, even more when he first became an Avenger. But that fear couldn’t compare to the kind I felt when the cops disregard each of his truths. I sniffled as I rested against him, trying hard not to imagine a world where Sam Wilson wasn’t by my side.

“Sam,” a women approached us, “I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m Dr. Raynor, James’ therapist.” We rose and Sam shook her hand, “So nice to meet you.” “Y/n Y/l/n,” I introduced myself as she extended the same greeting, “Thank you for getting Bucky out.”

“That was not me,” she smiled politely.

“Christina!” a nearby voice shouted, “It’s great to see you again.” 

When bulls see the color red, it angers them to the point that they’ll charge toward it in a fit of rage. My reaction to seeing John Walker in the red white and blue suit was one of a similar caliber.

“You gotta be kidding me,” I grumbled, covering my face with my palm. 

“You know him?” Sam asked in disbelief. “Yeah, we did some field ops back in the day,” Dr. Raynor answered.

Walker strutted towards us, “I heard you were working with Bucky so I thought I’d step in. Bucky’s not gonna be following a strict schedule any longer.” 

“We haven’t finished our work,” she asserted, “Who authorized this?” Walker held up two hands and aimed them at his arrogant self. “He’s too valuable of an asset to have tied up. Just do whatever you got to do with him, then send him off to me. Got some unfinished business, him and I,” he pointed to me and Sam, “You guys too. I’ll be outside.”

He marched back out through the door he’d come through and if we hadn’t been in a police station, I might have reeled him back in with my energy to inform him of just how low of a chance there was that we’d ever take an order from him. But if we had to go through him to spring Bucky, I’d bite my tongue for his sake.

“James,” Dr. Raynor turned, addressing Bucky who was now leaned up against the nearby counter, “Condition of your release, session now,” she looked over her shoulder towards us, “You too, Sam, Y/n.” Sam was quick to decline for us both, “That’s okay, we’ll be out here-“ “That wasn’t a request.”

Judging by the unenthusiastic glare we were getting from Bucky, he wasn’t any more excited than we were. “The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can leave,” I said to Sam, taking the initiative and following Dr. Raynor, once again with the men in my tow.

“What exactly is your relationship with James, Miss Y/l/n?” Dr. Raynor asked as she slowed her pace to match mine. “I don’t have a relationship with him,” I answered plainly, “I only met him yesterday. We got our asses kicked in Munich together.”

We were led into an interrogation room, just as cold and bleak as the ones I’d seen on tv. There were two chairs on each side of the table awaiting us. “Since I’m here primarily to speak with James and Sam, Y/n,” Dr. Raynor removed her coat and placed it on the back of her seat, “You can observe alongside me. You two on that end.” A simple thing as even sitting next to one another seemed like too big an ask for Sam and Bucky. The two of them looked like kids sent to the principal’s office as they begrudgingly sat down. I for one was looking forward to watching them sort out whatever beef they had that I had gotten tangled up in.

“So,” Dr. Raynor set her notebook down on the table, “Who would like to start?” “All right, look, Dr. Raynor?” Sam began, “I get it, why you want me to talk to Freaky Magoo over here. But I’m 100% fine.” Sam’s fatal mistake was darting his eyes over to me before looking back at her. I already knew he was lying, but his tell confirmed it.

“It is my job to make sure that you’re okay,” Dr. Raynor addressed Bucky, “And so, yeah, this may be slightly unprofessional but it’s the only way that I can see if you’re getting over whatever’s eating at you.” 

“This is ridiculous,” Sam rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I agree,” Bucky shook his head.

“This is the first time they’ve agreed on anything for the past twenty four hours,” I spoke up, leaning back in my seat to watch the show unfold.

“See? We’re making progress already,” Dr. Raynor said, “So, who wants to go first?”

Silence.

“No volunteers? Wow, how surprising…” she remarked, “Okay, we’re going to do an exercise. It’s something I use with couples when they are trying to figure out what kind of life they wanna build together. Are you familiar with the miracle question?”

“Absolutely not,” Bucky answered. 

“Of course not,” Sam’s voice overlapped with Bucky’s.

“Okay, it goes like this. Suppose that while you’re sleeping, a miracle occurs. When you wake up, what is something that you would like to see that would make your life better?’

Bucky suddenly became chatty, “In my miracle, um, he would…he would talk less.”

“Exactly what I was gonna say,” Sam replied, “Isn’t that ironic?”

“You guys are leaving me with no choice,” Dr. Raynor shrugged, “It’s time for the soul-gazing exercise.” “I like this better,” Bucky perkily pointed a finger towards his shrink.

Sam chuckled quietly to himself, “He’s gonna love this.” “Yeah, I’m ready.” “This is right up your alley…” Dr. Raynor motioned for them to rotate, ”Turn around, face each other.” “You should really enjoy this,” Sam said acidly. 

“I’m going to,” Bucky said with a sarcastic smile, the only one I’d seen him wear. “Let’s do it,” he said happily as Sam moved to face him, “Let’s stare. This is a good exercise, thanks Doc.” “Alright, get close,” Dr. Raynor instructed, they scooted slightly towards one another, “Come on, get closer.” With their knees touching, any further would put them much closer than either of them would ever want. “Which way do you want to go?” Bucky asked, “Right or left?” “Why are your legs open?” Sam asked impatiently, “You know what? Fine, here, you happy now?” He used Bucky’s chair to pull him forward so they legs were locked together.

“That’s a little close,” Bucky said loudly, adjusting in his seat. Sam nodded in agreement, “It’s very close, that’s what you wanted, right?” 

I couldn’t hold in my laughter anymore, causing both of them to shoot daggers at me. “Is this fun for you?” Sam snapped, gesturing towards their touching thighs. “Very,” I grinned unapologetically.

“Guys,” Dr. Raynor held up a hand to silence us all, “Now, look at each other. You need to look at each other in the eyes,” they obeyed and lifted their eyes to meet, “There, you see? That wasn’t so hard.” The stares they wore intensified, “Wait, what are you doing?” Dr. Raynor asked, “Are you having a staring contest?” Sam adjusting his eyebrows was her answer, she leaned over the table and snapped her fingers. “Just blink! All right, James, why does Sam aggravate you?” Bucky turned to his therapist with as close to a real smile as I’d seen on him when she cut him off, “And don’t say something childish.” His head lolled to the side in defeat, his pink tongue came out to wet his lips as he thought over his answer. “Why did you give up that shield?” “Why are you making such a big deal over something that has nothing to do with you?” Sam shot back.

“Steve believed in you, he trusted you. He gave you that shield for a reason,” Bucky’s emotions were starting to seep out, “That shield, that is- that is everything he stood for. That is his legacy. He gave you that shield and you threw it away like it was nothing.” “Shut up…” Sam muttered.

“So maybe he was wrong about you. And if he was wrong about you, then he was wrong about me.”

The way that Bucky’s voice had quivered at the end was telling of just how deep the wound ran. But Sam’s forgoing of the shield was backed by reasons that Bucky could never wrap his mind around.

“You finished?” Sam spoke up, when Bucky said yes, he continued, “All right, good. Maybe this is something you or Steve will never understand. But can you accept that I did what I thought was right?”

This was the issue that made the heavy silence we were sitting in all the more complicated. Both men were valid in their feelings, but there would be no resolve for either of them. Steve was gone, Walker carried the shield and Bucky and Sam were trying their best to navigate a new world.

Sam scoffed, burying the emotions that I knew he was trying to hide from. “You know what, Doc? I don’t have time for this. We have some real serious shit going on. So how about this? I will squash it right now. We go deal with that, and when we’re done, we both can go on separate long vacations and never see each other again.” My eyes widened at how quickly the conversation had escalated. “I like that,” Bucky agreed.

“Great. Well, let’s get to work,” Sam turned to Dr. Raynor, “Thanks, Doc, for making it weird. I feel much better,” he turned to Bucky, “I’ll see you outside.” With a slap to his shoulder, he rose from his seat and was out the door in seconds. There was so much left unresolved that didn’t sit well with me. As Bucky went to stand up, I did too. “Actually, Doctor,” I walked around to table to take Sam’s empty seat, “I’d like to say a few things.” Bucky annoyedly fell back down into his chair and shook his head in irritation. I didn’t particularly care that he didn’t want to speak with me, all he had to do was listen. “I know you and Steve were best friends and I know how much he means to you. But I can’t sit here and watch you berate my brother relentlessly over the fact that he didn’t take up that mantle. It’s easy for someone like Steve to be Captain America without any pushback, but Sam?” I pointed to the closed door, “It’s a whole ‘other ballgame. And while Steve would never have fully understood it, he would have made an effort to. And he wouldn’t be pressuring Sam like you are. You need to drop this and you need to drop it now.” “Let’s get one thing straight,” his razor sharp jaw ticked in anger, “You don’t get to talk about Steve like you knew him or like you understand anything about our friendship. You never met him, you don’t get to speak for him.” He could have never known what button he had just pressed, but my reaction wouldn’t have changed even if he had. I sat up straighter in my chair, my steely eyes boring into him. “I didn’t know Steve? Well, then I guess it was a different Steve Rogers that Sam introduced me to when I came to visit him in D.C. And it must have been a different Steve Rogers that I visited at the Avengers compound when I helped Sam move in,” I leaned forward, the dam in my eyes threatening to break, “It must have been a different Steve Rogers that I ran to when people all around me started turning to dust.”

————

It was pouring rain outside the Avengers compound, the piles of dust that had rested on the ground having long since been washed away. Y/n stormed across the front lawn of the compound to the entrance, she had driven straight through for 20 hours from Delacroix to upstate New York. Getting past security hadn’t been hard once she had said who she needed to speak to and who it regarded.

Her boots squeaked across the floor as she marched through the compound, she’d only been once but she still remembered her way around. She navigated through hallways until she’d found the main room, she only recognized one of the figures that stood hunched over a table in deep discussion. At the sound of her entrance, each one of them turned around. “Y/n…” Steve said in shock, a relieved sigh spilling from his lips, “You’re okay.” “He’s here, right?” she trembled, “He’s in his room or the kitchen? Steve, tell me he’s here.” When Steve didn’t answer and ducked his head, Y/n pushed harder. “Tell me he’s here, Steve.” He looked back up, finally meeting her eyes. “I can’t do that.”

Y/n let the last bit of strength she had slip through her fingers as her soaked form dropped to the floor. Steve was quick to hold her, offering what little comfort he could, knowing that he wasn’t the person she wanted to see most in the world. She sobbed in his arms, the first step in the long process of mourning her brother.

Steve made a true effort to keep in contact with Y/n over the next five years. He flew down to New Orleans to visit every couple months or he offered to fly Y/n up to New York. About two years post Blip were when financial struggles really started to hit Sarah and Y/n’s business and Y/n had to decline each kind offer to meet him on his turf. When she explained why, Steve showed up on her doorstep two days later, ready to stay for the week and help out however he could. It wasn’t hard to see why Sam had bonded so deeply with Steve, he had just as big a heart as her brother.

The day that Sarah and Y/n received the joyous call from Sam that he was back from the dead was the best day of their lives. Y/n called Steve immediately after to tell him the news and thank him for whatever part she had guessed he’d played in reuniting their family. Her calls kept going to voicemail. After Sam’s reunion with his sisters and nephews, he took Y/n aside and handed her an envelope. Inside it was a letter from Steve explaining that he wouldn’t be returning after the restoration of the population. He wished her a good life with her family and that he had valued her friendship and kindness towards him. As brokenhearted as Y/n had been over the loss of her friend, when Sam told her the true reason behind Steve’s sudden disappearance, she was overjoyed that Steve had gotten somebody he loved back too.

Steve Rogers was there for Y/n in some of her darkest hours. They had bonded deeply, their friendship a single ray of light in their then darkened world. To see his shield paraded around by someone who didn’t embody the same qualities and values that he did hurt more than she let on. The world may have accepted John Walker, but he’d never be Captain America in Y/n’s eyes.

————

I had somehow made it through my retelling of my time with Steve without completely breaking down. A river of silent tears streamed down my cheeks but my voice held firm. 

Bucky’s harsh stare had diminished significantly the longer I spoke. His plush lips were parted in surprise, words I didn’t care to hear hanging off of them.

“I don’t ever want to hear that I didn’t know Steve Rogers,” my voice threatened to break finally, “You’re not the only one who wants to protect his legacy.” Dr. Raynor had remained so silent while I talked, I’d forgotten she was there until she offered me a tissue. I hastily wiped my cheeks, ducking away from Bucky’s gaze. “Thank you, Doctor,” I said softly as I stood up, “This has been really helpful.” I wrapped my arms tight around my torso and exited the room as quick as I could, making a beeline for the lobby to find Sam. When he spotted me, he stood to attention. “What’s wrong? What happened?” “Nothing,” I shook my head, “I just want to get out of here.” He placed a protective hand on my shoulder as he watched me sniffle the last of my tears away. Bucky joined us seconds later, I couldn’t look directly at him after bearing so much of myself to him. The three of us left the police station in a now familiar silence, each deep in thought about what we’d revealed. 

“Well, I feel better,” Sam said as we stepped out into the cool evening air. “I feel awful,” Bucky grumbled.

A siren whooping caught our attention, I wished it hadn’t. There stood Lemar Hoskins and John Walker, waving at us and calling us over. The three of us reluctantly made our way towards them. “Look, if we divide ourselves, we don’t stand a chance, you guys know that.”

Sam rolled his eyes and humored him, “So what do you got?”

“Well, the leader’s name’s Karli Morgenthau,” Walker explained, “We’ve been targeting civilians who’ve been helping Karli move from place to place.” “They geotagged a location, then scrambled the signal,” Hoskins interjected, “But our satellites have found their symbol popping up in various displaced communities all across Central and Eastern Europe.” 

“We think she’s taking the medicine she just stole to one of these camps,” Walker finished.

“Well, there are hundreds of those all over the planet since The Blip,” Bucky spoke up across from me, “So I guess you’ll have to look real hard.” Walker smiled, “Good thing I have 20/20 vision, huh?” “Where is she now, Walker? Do you know?” Bucky asked. “No, we don’t know, Bucky,” his voiced raised, highlighting his frustrations, “It’s only a matter of time before we find out.” If I knew anything about Bucky by now, it was that he had no issue with provoking people. “Things are really intense for you, aren’t they, Walker?” I clapped my hands together once, “Okay, if this keeps going, someone’s probably gonna end up back in there behind bars so let’s just settle down.” “Look, Walker’s right,” Sam stepped forward, “It is imperative that we find them and stop them. But you guys have rules of engagement and all kind of authorizations you have to get. We’re free agents. We’re more flexible. So it wouldn’t make sense for us to work with you.”

We didn’t make it further than a three steps when Walker spoke up again. “Miss Y/l/n,” I stopped walking at his call, “You’re an enhanced individual, right?” “I’m what they call a mutant,” I spun on my heels to face him, “But to simplify it, sure, I’m enhanced.” Walker raised a condescending eyebrow, “Are you familiar with the Sokovian Accords?”

My spine stiffened, he was trying to blackmail me without actually saying the words. I was far too familiar with the accords and the ramifications they’d had on the Avengers. They’d sent Steve and Sam on the run for two years. “I think I’ve heard of them, yeah,” I smiled humorlessly. “It clearly states that any enhanced individuals who haven’t signed are not authorized to participate in any national or international conflicts or any missions run by private organizations such as the Avengers,” he gestured towards Sam, “You’re running with an Avenger, aren’t you?” A mirthless chuckle fell from my mouth as I watched him try and intimidate me. “Look, Craptain America,” I took slow and calculated steps towards him, “You can order your partner around or the soldiers that look up to you, but don’t think for one second that you can threaten me and try to pull the same shit the government did with Wanda Maximoff. I’m not going to be told who I can and cannot help.” Walker looked down at me menacingly, resembling a little boy who hadn’t gotten his way. “A word of advice then,” he said, eyes flicking between Sam, Bucky and I, “Stay the hell out of my way.” The juxtaposition between him and Steve had never been more apparent. Here he was daring to threaten me with incarceration followed by an ominous warning when it hadn’t worked. Bucky, Sam and I waited until him and Hoskins had left before heading our own way. “‘Craptain America?’” Sam echoed, slinging an arm around my neck, “I don’t think I’ve ever been prouder of you.” “It was a low blow,” I admitted with a contradictory smirk.

“Someone needed to say it,” Bucky chimed in, hesitantly looking over to me before quickly averting his gaze back to the sidewalk.

“Do I need to be worried that he threatened me with the accords? Are Sarah and I going to have S.H.I.E.L.D showing up on our door or something?” I asked.

“I think he’s just trying to intimidate you, but…” Sam inhaled wearily, “But I’d rather keep you here with us, just to be safe. If anybody were to come, we could protect you.” My smile grew as I looked up at Sam, the parameters of how to keep me safe had changed in my favor. I was almost grateful Walker had threatened me. “I can stay?” “Stop looking so happy about it,” Sam dropped his arm from around me, “This isn’t going to be easy,” he looked to our left to Bucky, “So what are you thinking?”

“Well, I know what we have to do,” he answered, if he had reservations about me sticking around, he was kind enough not to mention them. “When Isaiah said “my people…””

“Oh, don’t take that to heart. That’s not what he meant.”

“No, he meant HYDRA, HYDRA used to be my people.”

Sam thought the answer over for a second, decoding it. “Not a chance,” he scoffed.

“Walker doesn’t have any leads,” Bucky shrugged.

“I know where you’re going with this, no.” “He knows all of HYDRA’s secrets. Don’t you remember Siberia?” “Wait, you’re not talking about…” I sought out Bucky’s eyes that were still dodging mine. I didn’t need a history lesson on who he was referring to. “No. Not him. He’s crazy.” “We don’t exactly have a lot of other options,” Bucky said as if that was justification for what he wanted to do. “So you’re just gonna go sit in a room with this guy?” Sam asked. Bucky hesitated, searching for a more sophisticated answer. “Y-yes.” I may have been allowed to stay, but I knew that I wasn’t experienced enough yet to argue on their level. They knew when and how to make the difficult calls, they could operate in a grey area with little to no issues. All I could do was sit back, be taken along for the ride and tolerate any passengers who got in along the way.

“Okay, then,” Sam finally concurred, “We’re gonna go see Zemo.”

————

I couldn’t sleep.

We were back on the jet speeding back to Germany, this time with an even more sinister problem at hand. I had wanted to come along, I just hadn’t guessed that the reason I’d be allowed to stay would be because of a threat to my safety. All because of my powers. This was the reason why my father had been hellbent on keeping them a secret. I felt in a way that I’d failed him, that somewhere in the afterlife he was disappointed in me for telling the truth, even if I’d done it for the right reasons. Sam was conked out next to me, I envied his military training to get quick sleep wherever he could. I personally felt like I’d injected caffeine into my veins back in Maryland and hadn’t been able to come down since.

“Can’t sleep?” Bucky asked from where he laid on the floor, I thought he’d been unconscious the whole time.

“Can’t imagine why,” I dryly chuckled, “We’re only flying cross country to sit down and meet with one of the world’s most dangerous criminals. Why the floor?” “Oh,” he’d sat up and was looking back down at his lousy makeshift bed, his jacket balled up as a pillow and an itchy blanket, “It’s, uh, hard to explain.”

After a few seconds of near uncomfortable silence, he pushed himself up and made his way to where I sat. I tucked my legs under me to make room for his burly body. He was big enough that with all the space I’d tried to give him, my knees still brushed against his thick thigh. He sighed loudly, giving voice to the divide that if we’d have gone our separate ways, as planned, wouldn’t have mattered. Now that we were going to be working together, we couldn’t ignore what had been said in that interrogation room.

“Listen, about what…happened,” his face contorted in a mild cringe as he played the scene back in his head, “I’m sorry, for what I said.” “You didn’t know,” I offered, picking at a loose thread on my jacket, “I don’t talk about Steve a whole lot except with Sam.” “Still, I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that,” Bucky continued, folding his hands in his lap. “I’ve been rude since we met and that’s not okay. Especially when all you’ve done is try and help.”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it,” I leaned my head against the back of my seat, “No permanent damage done.” His thumbs danced together, his brows were knitted in concentration as he prepared to speak. “Can I, uh, ask you about your powers?”

I twisted so that I could properly face him, “Ask away.” “How did they happen?” “I was born with them, actually. I’ve got this thing called the X-gene, it’s supposed to manifest at puberty but for me it activated when I was really young,” I ran a hand through my hair, “Imagine being five years old and having blue come out of your fingers when you were reaching for a juice box.” A miracle occurred and Bucky’s lips actually quirked up in a half smile. It encouraged me to keep talking. “My mom wanted to take me to this school for kids like me but my dad forbade it. He kept saying that it was too dangerous and that somebody could find me. It was like he didn’t realize that it was a refuge for people with powers, not a hunting ground,” I paused, flashing back to arguments between my parents of which one of them actually knew what was best for me. “So instead, I just taught myself how to control them. There were a couple incidents but other than that, I’ve kept them under lock and key for a long time.”

Bucky had remained still and fascinated as I spoke, switching between watching my eyes and my lips. Suddenly it felt like nothing had ever gone on between us. We were just fellow soldiers or co-workers having a conversation outside of work.

“What do they think now? Your parents?” he asked, the ease of the moment slipping away with a simple question. He couldn’t have known the minefield he was stepping into.

“My mom doesn’t know yet that I told Sam,” I sighed deeply, inhaling strength and exhaling bad memories, “And my dad killed himself when I was a kid.” “Oh,” Bucky’s eyebrows lifted, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pried into-“

“No, no, it’s fine…” I waved him off, “Whether I want it to be or not, it’s a part of me. He was in the service and when he returned, he was diagnosed with severe PTSD. I was so young when he came home that I don’t really have any memories of him before it happened. He had all the classic symptoms; flashbacks, nightmares, paranoia, fits of anger, at some point he even stopped believing that he was a good father and husband,” I tear slipped down my cheek, “That was around the time it happened. We tried for so long to help him but the trauma consumed him. Every day he was just doing his best to survive himself.” I glanced up at Bucky to find that his eyes were just as watery as mine. It hadn’t dawned on me that I was telling him everything that he already knew about what happened when someone returned from war. He was living it out right now. 

“I’m not trying to strike any nerves but…in that session tonight, I saw how much you were holding in. With Sam, with me…” I started, praying I wasn’t going to end up pushing him further away, “I’ve seen what bottling things up and isolating yourself can do to a person and it’s a hell I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. I know you don’t trust me yet but…if you ever do need somebody to talk to…I can’t understand your experiences, but I can recognize some of it.” Bucky truly looked lost, like he’d never been in the position of receiving such an offer. His face, usually so hardened, had softened so much he was almost unrecognizable. And yet there was still some barrier, some pain weaved between the hope and vulnerability that kept him from receiving my kindness with open arms. In the session, the pain I had seen in his eyes reminded me so desperately of that in my father’s eyes. If I didn’t try to help him, that look would haunt me for a long time.

“Thank you,” he finally said, his voice raspy enough to make me shiver. We sat there in the dark, both our walls we’d built around ourselves starting to crumble as we chipped away at one another. There was some feeling I couldn’t put a name to that had settled over us. The eyes that I’d avoided all day were now all I could focus on, digging into the deep blue pools and feeling like I could lay down my sword there. If we were going to get through this mission, we needed to be friends at least and I felt confidant we were on the path.

Bucky eventually cleared his throat, shaking me from my thoughts that he was at the center of. “We’re gonna be to Berlin soon, you should get some sleep.”

Internally, I smiled at the familiarity, it was almost word for word what he’d told me the other night. Only now the hostility had been dropped.

“You need it too,” I replied as he rose and made his way across the plane, “Goodnight, Barnes.” I curled up in a ball near Sam’s feet, praying he didn’t kick me in his sleep. I had just shut my eyes to try when a voice spoke up, “Bucky.”

“Hmm?” I opened one eye to see him lay back down on the floor, attempting to get comfortable.

“Call me Bucky.”

I pursed my lips slightly to decrease the size of my smile, I wasn’t the only one laying down their weapons. “Alright. Goodnight, Bucky.”

----

A/N: There’s something so powerful about name dropping Wanda Maximoff and Y/n having been besties with Steve Rogers lol. Hope you all enjoy, let me know what you thought or if you’d like to be tagged! 

Safe Haven taglist: @tanyaherondale​ @wanniiieeee​ @asoftie4bucky​ @edencherries​ @i-reblog-fics-i-like​ @ttalisa​ @gcfty @withyoutilltheendofthismess​ @rinaispunk​ @weirdowithnobeardo​ @felicityofbakerstreet​ @godlypotterwhodiaries​ @eternalharry​ @voguesir​ @mizz-kraziii​ @okayline​ @smellmymisunderstoodfluff @wanderin-stories​ @nicklet94 @intricate-melody​ @aesthethickks​ @stumbleonmywords​ @simplybarnes​ @21bruhs​ @lostinwonderland314​ @superbookishhufflepuff​

[avaritia-apotheosis]

Phantom Children Ch. 8

What's this? An update! Massive thanks to my betas for helping me get through this chapter <3

In Which: A few answers are given to the family and Danny is rudely awoken

[Side note: If you wanna know the general ages of the batfam, its listed in the AO3 version. I also talk about katanas in the end notes ^-^]

AO3 | Prologue | 7 | [ 8 ] | 9 DAMIAN INFORMED TODD—and Drake when he arrived on his bike sometime later on—that the boy whose face is plastered across the monitor was neither a picture of himself nor of Father.

Drake took one glance at the monitor and sighed, pressing his fingers against the bridge of his nose. “Just when I thought this day was getting better.”

“What, did that café on 5th finally let customers supersize their drink?”

“God that would be the dream, wouldn’t it?” Drake sighed wistfully. “Nah, but I did get a lead on where some of that stolen Cadmus tech might’ve ended up. I was gonna spend the night following up on it, but I guess we have to deal with,” he gestured to the monitor, “whatever this is.”

Todd leaned against the edge of the computer, arms crossed over the red bat insignia on his chest. “What are we dealing with this time, brat? A clone? An alternate universe counterpart? Magic shenanigans?”

Maybe. Perhaps. All of those were perfectly valid conclusions for the enigma that was Daniel James Fenton. (Why Fenton and not al Ghul? Or even Wayne?)

Damian, too, was a genetic experiment; a ‘test tube baby’ as Drake put it at times. Damian was born for greatness, created to be perfect. The perfect soldier. The perfect assassin. The perfect heir. Was this boy—Daniel—like him as well?

A failed one, then. Perhaps the precursor to Damian’s own existence. But that would not explain why the boy was allowed to exist for so long. His grandfather demanded perfection, especially from those of his own blood. If the boy was a failure, he would have been eliminated immediately, not sent to live with some eccentric scientists in the Midwest.

Damian was not naïve enough to think that his mother and grandfather did not keep secrets from him. On the contrary, he expected it. The League of Shadows dealt in secrets as often as it did in death. Certain information was worth its weight in gold, whether it was given or buried away.

But he could not help the sharp pang in his chest. A lightning strike, quick and electrifying at the notion that they kept secrets about their family from him.

His father’s face flashed in his mind. The shock turned into a slow, dawning horror. That flicker of light, of recognition, as he scrutinized the contents of the flash drive and cross-referenced it with a public database.

And grief.

Damian recognized the grief.

Alfred, too, nearly dropped his tray of fresh-baked cookies when he stepped in front of the monitor. His usual unflappable demeanor was momentarily broken at his father’s whispered “Sixteen years. Alfred— he’s sixteen years old.”

His father knew of the boy. He was allowed to know of Daniel when he was not allowed to know about Damian.

------

Grayson returned to the cave with a distinct lack of energy in his step. His mask dangled off the tips of his fingers, chin angled downwards and covered largely by his hand. For a split second, their eyes met. Grayson shifted his gaze away, scratching the back of his neck. Father told him, then. Damian wondered how much Father revealed to his favorite son.

Damian clucked his tongue and buried himself deeper into the chair, arms crossed and pointedly looking away. If it was not for his accursed ankle, he’d have headed out to the training ring to take his frustrations out on the dummies.

“Oh, thank god you’re here, Dickface. Damian’s completely out of it.”

Damian shot him a look. “Shut up, Todd.”

“Leave him alone, Jay. Is Tim back yet?”

Drake emerged from the changing room in a dark green shirt, a fresh cup of coffee in hand. He took one long sip before exhaling. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“O-kay…” He pressed his hands together, mouth thinned into a grim line. “Uh, hey Tim, glad to see you back safe. Bruce is coming down soon to explain some things.” He let out a deep sigh, carding a hand through his hair. “This kind of thing would probably be better with the girls around, but I—god, I don’t know.”

Todd raised an eyebrow. “Don’t know whether to call Steph and Cass in Hong Kong, or don’t know what’s going on?”

“Yes.”

------

When Father arrived, Pennyworth following dutifully behind him, it was with an aching slowness in his gait. His steps measured and precise, preternaturally quiet as he made his way to stand by Damian’s chair. Damian sat up straighter, shoulders squared and back an inch away from the backrest. The rest, even Todd, stood at attention; an ingrained habit among Robins and an amusing instinct even among the senior heroes of the Justice League when it came to facing the Batman.

His father kept a steady hand on Damian’s shoulder, and Damian, shamefully, leaned into the touch; his head inclined towards his father’s hand so much so that he could feel the ends of his hair being pushed up slightly as he brushed against his father’s forearm.

He spoke with his usual monotone, as if he was heading a Justice League meeting as opposed to unveiling the secrets surrounding that boy. He brought forward the few photos they obtained from the flash drive. “A few weeks ago, we were alerted of suspicious movement from the League of Shadows in Amity Park, Illinois. Their objectives are, as of now, unclear, though it appears to be tied to the death of Amity Park resident, Daniel Fenton.”

One photo was a standard ID picture people get for their driver’s license, the lighting deliberately horrible so that any attempt to look decent would always end in failure. Another photo was a little better; a candid scene of him chatting with two others his age, a Caucasian girl in gothic-style clothes and an African-American holding a sleek, but still very outdated PDA. His blue eyes crinkled at the corners, hand reaching up to his face to stifle a laugh. There were other photos like this, some candid, others posed. At the forefront of each, a boy that looked too much like his father, too much like Damian.

His father glanced at the photos. He shut his eyes and when he opened them again, he fixed them on some distant stalactite in the Cave. “Around six months ago, Daniel was pronounced dead in a vehicular accident. A body was present, but according to police reports, he was identified via his driver’s license as opposed to any kind of DNA profiling.” He leaned over Damian’s chair to pull up a profile of Masters. “Our source—Vladimir Masters, mayor of Amity and a friend of the Fenton family—indicated his belief that Daniel is actually alive. I am inclined to agree.”

“He’s your son, isn’t he,” Drake said, more of a statement than a question.

Father gave a curt nod. “I cannot say for certain until I can perform a DNA test, but I highly suspect that to be the case.”

“First the demon spawn, now this. Great.” Todd made a hand motion towards the screen. “You know, Bruce, not knowing you have a kid once might be a coincidence, but twice? How do you do that?”

“As of three hours ago, I was still under the impression that my son never made it to term.”

“What?”

“Over sixteen years ago I was involved in a mission that put Ra’s and I on the same side. During that time, Talia and I entered a relationship that resulted in a pregnancy. Though initially ecstatic, she eventually led me to believe she miscarried the child and pushed me away. For what ends, I do not know, but trust me Jason, if I knew—” He paused, the hand that was not on Damian’s shoulder curled into a tight fist.

Father pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why she hid it from me then doesn’t matter. Why Talia wants him back now is important. Judging from Daniel’s records, he was adopted into the Fenton family as an infant and has since lived a seemingly normal life as a civilian. His adoptive parents, Jack and Maddie Fenton, are brilliant scientists and engineers focused on the field of paranormal studies. Eccentricities aside, they have zero connections to the League of Assassins or any other concerning parties.”

“So why now?” Dick asked, shifting his concerned gaze from Bruce to the static picture of Danny’s tired smile. “Why, after all this time, decide that now would be the best time to recover him?”

------

Danny’s experienced plenty of rude awakenings before, but waking up at the ass-crack of dawn to avoid his kidnapper-slash-assassin-slash-biological-mom launching a surprise attack takes the fucking cake. He can’t believe he’s saying this, but thank god for all those late night ghost attacks that conditioned him to be a light sleeper. And, of course, the League’s insistence that everyone be in optimal condition regardless of how little sleep you actually got.

Danny kicked Talia off of him, ripping his blanket away before scrambling to his feet. Seriously, if the universe decided to spontaneously give him powers again, he’d really like an upgrade to his ghost senses, please and thank you. Something that works on humans and not just ghosts. Like spidey-senses. He’d really, really like some spidey-senses.

“Your reaction times have improved considerably,” Talia said.

He eyed the katana sheathed beside his bedroll. “Thanks. Who could have guessed that constantly challenging someone to a spar in the unholy hours of morning would make them paranoid to sleep too much? Really, how am I supposed to grow taller at this rate? ” If he could just get it--

She smiled, taking a step forward. “Prepare yourself.”

“Heh.” Danny stepped further away from Talia, keeping his back to the mouth of the cave. One hand stretched in front of him and the other, coated in a green light, was kept hidden behind his back. “Am I actually gonna get some answers today?”

“Let us make it interesting. Last 10 minutes against me and I shall tell you more about your brother.” Talia twirled her blade. “If you happen to draw blood, you may ask any one thing of me.”

“Anything?”

“Within reason.”

His face caught between a grimace and a smile. He’d rather be sleeping right now, but if he had to be awake, then he’d better make the most of it. “Deal.”

Talia’s smile dropped. She veered her body to the right, barely dodging the streak of bright green that whizzed from behind her. The ectoplasmic energy that surrounded the katana bled away as the handle connected with Danny’s outstretched hand.

She quickly glanced back at Danny’s bedding. Beside it lay an empty sheath. “You have telekinesis?”

He shrugged. “It comes and goes.” Yeah, no way was Danny gonna admit that seven-out-of-ten-times he forgot that he had telekinesis. Besides, that shit was hard to do when he wasn’t Phantom.

“A surprise attack from behind is a sound strategy, Daniel. Though it’ll take a lot more than that to harm me.”

Danny pointed to the side of his cheek. “Are you sure about that?”

Talia frowned. She reached up to her face. Her fingers brushed against her cheek and came away with a thin streak of blood.

Danny grinned, pointing his blade at his opponent. “First blood goes to me.”

------

Fact: most fights don’t last long. An average street fight could last anywhere between 25 to 40 seconds, and sword fights rarely last over a minute. Like Talia said, the goal of a fight was to end it with as few injuries to oneself as possible. Humans, even the most skilled ones, can rarely last long in a fight. Prolonged combat is suicide; it makes you tired, makes your muscles heavy. It’s nothing like what Hollywood would have you believe.

Even with Danny’s own enhanced stamina and Talia holding back, he couldn’t last a full ten-minute spar. If Talia didn’t finish him within twenty-five seconds, then he’d fall by his own human limitations.

But the goal wasn’t to spar continuously for ten minutes.

He only had to last that long.

Danny sprinted out of the cave. The sun barely peeked out of the horizon, a thin line of deep orange breaking apart the wide expanse of blue-black sky above. He couldn’t see shit; great news since that meant there’s a good chance Talia couldn’t either, but that doesn’t fix the fact that he can’t see.

Nearly stumbling on the ice, Danny veered to the left. The edges of the lake stopped at towering rocks twice Danny’s height, leaving little room for cover. Though if he remembered correctly, there should be a few crevices here and there to hide in.

“You’ll have to be faster than that, Daniel.”

Shit—

Danny stopped. He brought his sword up to parry Talia’s strike and twisted away, putting distance between them.

Well, so much for just avoiding her for 10 minutes.

He adjusted his grip, keeping his sword steady and eyes trained on Talia as they circled each other. Danny lunged with an overhead strike. Talia used one hand to block the downswing by gripping his wrists. She thrust her sword forward, the tip harshly poking Danny’s abdomen.

“Less than three minutes.” Talia let his wrist go, Danny’s arms slumping to his sides.

He sighed as he sheathed his sword. “Damn, I thought I’d last longer than that.”

“You made a good effort,” Talia assured him. “Putting as much distance between us at the beginning was a good strategy. You recognized the win conditions immediately and attempted a battle of attrition.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “I am very proud of you habibi, especially as you managed to draw first blood.”

A warmth grew in Danny’s stomach at the words, heating his cheeks. Sheepishly, he scratched the back of his head. “I wasn’t entirely sure that would work, honestly.”

“It was clever; half a second later and you might have even killed me. You are an al Ghul through and through” She brushed his hair out of his face. “What would you like as your prize, then?”

Danny’s heart clenched. He frowned, dropping his arm to his side. If I was such an al Ghul, then why didn’t you keep me? The question lodged itself in his throat, stifling his thoughts. It was something he’d been wondering for a while, actually, in the moments of solitude he had at the compound. Talia, during their training, would always remark at his potential. How talented he was, how adaptable he was, how much greater he would have been if he had been trained at a younger age.

Well then, why wasn’t he? Why did she give him up?

But each time he tried to ask, his tongue would turn to lead and the moment would pass, the question still left unsaid and simmering at the back of his mind. A Pandora’s Box that held none of the world’s evil but all of Danny’s possible shortcomings.

He could ask the question now.

He could.

He didn’t.

“Why did you take me?”

Talia tilted her head. “It is because you’re my son.”

“No. Not that. It has to be something more than that. You had sixteen years to come back for me—or, hell, you could have just never left me.” His breath hitched, fingers mussing his hair and hiding his eyes. “Why else did you take me?”

“It is true that there was more than one reason why we decided to retrieve you from Amity Park. One of which is because you are my son and an heir of the Demon’s Head.” Talia stilled. The dark skies of dawn made it impossible for him to read her. “The second reason was to protect you.”

“You kidnapped me…to protect me?”

“Knowledge of the ghosts of Amity have spread through the more insidious parts of the world. There are many out there who would pay exorbitant fees to study one of you or to use you.”

Use him? What did she mean by—

Oh.

Ghosts—Amity Park’s brand of ghosts—were a new element that the world had to contend with. Amity Park might have a crime rate of zero but that wasn’t the case everywhere else. Theft, assault, murder; the world was rampant with crimes and criminals clawing their way to the very top. Having ghosts, even ones with the most basic powerset, would be a huge advantage.

“There’s no way that would work,” Danny insisted. “Most ghosts just want to be left alone, and the ones that want to wreak havoc would never work with humans. The only reason they even work with halfas like me at times is because they still consider us as ghosts.”

“If my sources are to be believed, ghosts might not even get a choice.”

Danny’s blood curdled in his veins.

No.

Someone’s found a way to control ghosts.

[flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash]

Irresistible Danger - Part 60

Synopsis:  After being caught outside the compound on your own, Negan decides to punish you in the best way possible ;)

Words: 3,229

Warnings: nsfw, smut, swearing

ID Masterlist can be found HERE

Masterlist of all my fics can be found HERE

Author’s Note: We’re back! Omg y’all...I finally have a path to the ending for this fic! After this chapter, I’m planning for there to be 5 more chapters until the end, which will give ID a total of 65 chapters. I’m still working on writing and editing these last chapters, but I’m pretty confident in that timeline :D I also plan to post each Friday again, so there should be chapters now through September 10th, if all goes according to plan. 

PDA

You woke with a smile the next morning, partially because of the happiness filling your chest like a balloon. The other part was because the warm body behind you, accompanied by a rasp of beard on your shoulder and soft lips on your neck, signalled that you weren’t alone. 

The florid orange rays coming in the large windows told you that it was still early, the sun barely risen above the horizon. Turning over onto your other side to face Negan, you took in his tousled hair and heavy-lidded gaze. 

“Mornin’ doll,” he said, voice raspy with sleep. 

“Morning,” you whispered back, pressing a kiss to his irresistible mouth. “No crack-of-dawn meetings today?”

His lips quirked against yours. “Nope, thank fuck,” he murmured, before rolling atop you and spending a good portion of the morning taking you apart with pleasure, then putting you back together piece by piece with cuddles and toe-curling kisses. 

When he later glanced over at the clock and saw that it was almost 10am, he gave a groan and flopped onto his back with a forearm covering his eyes. “Much as I’d love to stay here all day, I gotta go with a couple Saviors to check out one of the nearby outposts. They reported some concerns about their fucking security measures, and also requested a few more men be stationed out there to help divvy up their shifts, so I wanna go see if there’s any fucking issues for myself.”

While you felt a tiny thrill that he was so willing to tell you this information, to let you know about his duties as leader, you also had a moment of worry about him possibly assigning more men out to work the outpost. “Is that the one you brought Simon in from a couple weeks ago?” 

Knowing exactly where your thoughts were headed, he said, “Don’t get your fucking panties in a bunch, doll. If the outpost needs more hands, I was planning to send a couple of my newer Saviors.”

Pleased at this response, you smiled and leaned in close so your mouth was hovering mere millimeters from his, before whispering, “I’m not wearing any panties to get in a bunch.” 

Before he could react, you rolled out of the bed and strode to the bathroom, putting a little extra swing to your hips. The growl and unmistakable rustling sound of sheets being thrown off was your only warning before Negan scooped you up into his arms and marched into the bathroom. 

An hour later and you were both sufficiently clean (after first getting extra dirty against the shower wall), and you saw Negan off from his rooms with a kiss and warning to be careful. He gave an arrogant smirk at that, which got him an eye roll and playful shake of your head as a response. 

You watched as he strode down the hall towards the staircase, shoulders encased in leather and his whistle echoing off the walls. While they’d never dare ask him about it, you couldn’t help but give a little smile at the thought of his men wondering why the hell their usually punctual leader was almost ten minutes late to leave for the outpost...and why he seemed so happy about it.

~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~

Unable to contain your excitement over the events of the night before, you headed over to Ben’s room not long after Negan left. Thankfully he was there, having just returned from finishing up serving breakfast. His roommate was out this time, so you were able to huddle across from one another on his bottom bunk and catch him up on your conversation with Negan.

Ben listened intently, mouth slowly falling further and further open as you went on. When you got to the part about Negan admitting he wanted only you, and called you his partner, Ben let out a whoop of joy and threw his arms around you in a hug. 

“I knew it!” he exclaimed. “That big lug is head over heels for you.” 

The two of you chatted happily for a bit, before you left and wandered back down to your own room. It had felt like forever since you had a chunk of time to just relax in your bed without over analyzing or stressing over something Negan-related. Gone was the weight of that padlocked box of questions, which made both your brain and subconscious very happy. The three of you snuggled up on the bed and spent the next couple of hours finishing your re-read of Harry Potter before it was time to head down to the kitchen for dinner prep. 

Today’s menu consisted of lasagna using leftover deer meat thawed from the freezer, with the signature side of rolls. Trixie had unofficially promoted herself as being in charge of roll duty, making sure the dough was the right consistency and the ovens at the perfect baking temperature. She wasn’t rude about it, but the little bit of authority she showed when instructing another staff member how to properly knead the dough seemed to fulfill her need to be seen as a knowledgeable and important part of the staff. And in all honesty, none of her feedback to the others was incorrect, so rather than reprimand her or say she was out of line, you had caught her eye at one point and given an almost imperceptible nod of approval. This caused her smile to beam so bright that it was a wonder you didn’t need sunglasses. 

As it turned out, you weren’t the only one who had noticed Trixie’s presence and been keeping a stealthy eye on her. Andrew, a member of the food prep crew, had been not-so-subtly following Trixie with his gaze lately, and today was no exception. He was an attractive man in his early 20s with shoulder-length black hair and kind brown eyes, a much more appropriate candidate for Trixie than her previous choice.

It seemed safe to say that Trixie was aware of the attention as well, as she found every reason possible to flounce past where Andrew was busy loading trays of lasagna into an oven. At one point, she even stopped to chat briefly with him, and out of the corner of your eye you saw her toss back her head and laugh at something he said. If it seemed a bit overly dramatic to you, well, Andrew didn’t seem to mind. In fact, her reaction caused him to fumble with the tray of pasta he was holding, almost spilling the entire thing onto the ground. He thankfully saved it at the last second, otherwise you would’ve had to interrupt and lecture the two of them about focusing on their work and not chit-chatting. And you didn’t want to do that, not when Trixie finally seemed interested in a guy more her age who was actually available and seemed to genuinely like her. 

Despite your initial tension with Trixie, you now realized that she had just been struggling to find where she fit in, to feel like an important part of the community. She’d initially been scooped up and led astray by Amber, but thankfully she had found her way back on the correct path and was making progress at getting along with the others, rather than isolating herself and using condescension as an emotional wall. Someone like Andrew, who was kind-hearted and considerate, not to mention absolutely captivated by her, was exactly what she needed. 

Focusing your attention away from young romance and back to meal prep, you spent the next forty-five minutes making sure everything was baked to perfection before sending out the first trays of lasagna and rolls. However, your mind kept randomly returning to Negan, almost unable to contain a secret smile each time you remembered where the two of you now stood. The usual worry and second-guessing had been replaced by the stability of knowing how he felt, and each time you remembered his words from last night a flutter of butterflies went off in your stomach. 

Negan had told you this morning that the outpost he and a small team of men were going to was less than an hour’s drive from the Sanctuary, so he planned to be back around dinnertime. Sure enough, about 20 minutes into when the first round of food was being served, you saw a small group of Saviors enter the cafeteria and settle down at a table. You guessed that they were the ones who had been out on the mini mission, and breathed a sigh of relief at seeing them back safely and with jovial expressions on their faces. You could always tell when things went wrong on a run, due to the overall aura of the men who returned, but this time they were smiling and talking animatedly with one another. Hopefully this also meant that Negan was in a happy, and perhaps affectionate, mood when you went to visit him later...

It was as if your thoughts had conjured the man himself. You were out in the cafeteria with a large water pitcher, making rounds to refill empty glasses for people, when a hush in conversation made you still and look up.

And there he was, standing at the entrance to the cafeteria with his signature leather jacket unzipped just enough so that the edge of a white tee peeked out over the top. He scanned over the tables like a king surveying his domain, looking both intimidating and absolutely delicious with the arrogant way he held himself, as if he had no cares in the world but was also ready to take on anything.

When his eyes landed on you, those sinful lips quirked upwards at the edges, and you swore that even from the distance of half a cafeteria you could see his golden gaze light up at the sight of you. He moved, striding with determination and purpose to close the space between your bodies. The breath caught in your chest at his beauty, at the raw masculinity and almost animal magnetism that surrounded him. 

He stopped mere inches away, and you gazed up at him in both welcome and a bit of confusion. Trying to act calm and unaffected, and not show how much you wanted to grin and launch yourself at him, you said, “Welcome back.” 

Your eyebrow cocked in question when he shook his head with a low chuckle. “Oh no, doll, that won’t do at all.” And with that, he wrapped an arm around your waist and lowered his head...

And kissed you in front of the entire Sanctuary. 

A wave of shock jolted through you, at the same time as your body automatically responded, molding itself to his. Your brain was flatlined on the floor from the unexpected move, while your subconscious ran around it in circles screaming with excitement. 

You could practically feel all the astonished stares from community members, as they watched their all-powerful leader break one of his cardinal rules and kiss you to within an inch of your life. And dear god, what a kiss it was! His lips were firm yet gentle, his tongue just barely tracing your bottom lip, as if he couldn’t help but steal a little taste. He wasn’t holding back, and the primal part of you recognized that he was publicly staking his claim for all to see. There could be no question after this moment that you were his, and that he wanted everyone to know it. 

When he finally pulled back, you could only look up at him with what must’ve been an utterly dazed expression, if his pleased smirk was anything to go by. Glancing to his left and then right, his brow furrowed and expression turned serious as he bellowed, “What the fuck are you all looking at?”

His words had the desired effect, as eyes dropped back to their plates and the community stuttered back to action, obviously trying and failing to act like something monumental didn’t just happen. You’d have given a lot of points to know what they were all thinking, but you didn’t see any angry expressionsand no one had said anything or acted out of line, so hopefully that was a good sign. 

Negan’s warm hand rubbed comfortingly up your bare arm, and it was then that you noticed he didn’t have his gloves on. That also sparked the realization that he wasn’t carrying Lucille, which was strange since he always had her on his person when making an appearance in front of the community. 

Now that you’re thinking about it, did he even have her this morning, when he left?

You thought back to when you had kissed him goodbye and watched as he walked down the hallway. Surely he’d have taken her with him to the outpost...but you honestly couldn’t remember seeing her up over his shoulder. You had to just be forgetting, because there was no way he’d leave her behind. 

That train of thought was brought to a halt when the hand on your arm trailed down along your waist and settled possessively on your hip. “I wanted to put in a request for one of your staff members to bring two servings of dinner to my room, for Simon and yours truly.” 

Before you could ask if he needed time alone once you were done with dinner, he provided the answer. “We need to go over the fucking outpost inspection results, but I’ll come and find you once it’s done.” It was the second time he’d done that today, answering a question before you had the chance to voice it out loud, which was a sign of how well he was coming to predict your thought process. 

You were still a bit in shock at all of this, especially how he was discussing his evening plan with you so publicly and audibly, as if to show that you were more than just his in a physical sense. He was broadcasting to the community that you were what he had already told you last night: his partner. His voice had been low enough that only the nearby tables would’ve heard, but you knew every moment of this interaction would be spread across the entire community within minutes after he left. 

Giving a smile and trying to look like ‘yep, this is completely normal, no big deal, I am totally not internally screaming with joy and wanting to climb his fine ass like a tree’, you replied, “Of course. I’ll have it sent up immediately.”

“Thanks, doll,” he said with a final smirk. Then his face morphed back into the intense, badass expression of the Sanctuary’s leader, and he strode out of the cafeteria. 

You were left standing there, still a bit shell-shocked by what had just occurred, but also giddy as hell over it. That emotional high was only slightly dimmed by the awareness that now, with Negan gone, you were the sole center of everyone’s attention. A quick scan of the cafeteria showed that most community members were trying not to openly stare. However, the lack of chewing and frequent side glances thrown your way as your legs finally unfroze and started back towards the kitchen were proof that they had all seen Negan’s display of affection. 

While the rest of the community might’ve at least been making a feeble attempt not to obviously stare, the same couldn’t be said of the kitchen staff. At least a couple of them must’ve witnessed what happened when serving trays of food, and those members must’ve scurried back to the kitchen to report it to the others. Every single one of them was staring in wide-eyed silence with a mixture of shock and fascinated curiosity when you walked back through the swinging doors. 

Even though your face felt heated and you were a bit off-kilter, you still managed to sound slightly firm when announcing, “Alright folks, back to work. And no, I don’t want to talk about it.”

You breathed a sigh of relief when they didn’t argue, but a couple of them did give knowing grins, Trixie included, though at least they all seemed good-natured about it. Trying to act as though your world hadn’t just been spun off its axis with that public kiss, you went over to Ben, who was the only one that had stayed fairly composed the entire time. In fact, his eyes danced with mirth and he was obviously trying to hold back a smirk, so you felt only minimally evil when telling him of Negan’s request that two servings of dinner be taken up to his rooms for him and Simon. Ben gave a playful glare when you told him to take up the food himself, saying it loud enough that some others heard, making him unable to say no without looking a bit suspect. 

When the tray was ready to go a few minutes later, you quietly murmured to Ben as he passed by on his way out of the kitchen, “Say hi to Simon for me.” The words caused a hint of pink to flare in his cheeks as he gave a halfhearted glare. You almost felt guilty for teasing him, but knew Ben would more than forgive you when Negan came through on his promise to get Simon his own room.  

Though the kitchen staff still threw glances your way here and there, they quickly fell back into their usual routine and no one made any direct comments. You were safe from scrutiny...at least for now. At least no one seemed to have any extreme concerns about what had happened, making you wonder how many of them had suspected what was going on between you and Negan before now.

Once dinner and cleanup were over, you headed back up to your room. Negan had said he would come find you when he was ready, so you planned to just lay back and relax until then. 

Oh, who were you kidding. After that kiss, you were totally going to sit on your bed and think about all the dirty things you wanted to do to him the moment the two of you were alone. 

Trying to convince yourself that you could be at least semi-productive and pretend to have a hobby other than fantasizing about the leader of the Sanctuary, you pulled the copy of Harry Potter off your bedside table. You were just opening to the first page, planning to restart it again from the beginning, when a firm knock sounded at your door. 

Pulse jumping with excitement, you rose from the bed and didn’t even hesitate to cross the room and reach for the doorknob. It never occurred to you that it might be anyone other than Negan, let alone for it to be the last person you’d have ever expected to see at your door. But things had been going so well today that it was almost as if fate was bored with your happiness and wanted to add some drama to the mix. 

Totally ignoring the warning prickle that ran up your spine, you opened the door with a welcome smile. It quickly died on your lips at the sight of who was standing on the other side, hands on hips and eyes throwing daggers your way. 

It was Amber...and she looked pissed.

~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~