#i tried drawing cassie’s hand but it refused to look good so i gave up

[cursed-ice-spirits]

Me: I’m gonna post in the morning

Restless brain: SIKE!

Anyway two requested girls, Lith Throne ( @slytherinliththorne ) and Cassie Cresswood ( @strawberrysunrisewitches ), both coincidently known to be shy Slytherins

[allthebooksandcrannies]

Life With You Makes Perfect Sense (You're My Best Friend)

TimKon Fanfic

Read on AO3 or Read my other works here

For context: this takes place during the time when Stephanie Brown was Robin after Tim's dad figured out his identity and made him retire. In the comics, Conner finds this out by coming to Gotham to look for Tim when he fails to show up at Titan's Tower and bumping into Robin Steph. Batman refuses to give Conner Tim's address but tells him that he has all the same skills Superman has to find him himself. Conner tracks down Tim's voice and confronts him in his bedroom. In the comics, he ends up leaving and doesn't appear to hear from Tim again until he comes back to the Robin role. This fic takes place as a sort of "what-if" to fill in that missing time.

I took the dialogue in italics from the first and last scenes directly from my copy of the TPB Teen Titans: Beast Boys & Girls (2005), though the body language that goes with the dialogue and everything else in the fic is mine.

Title comes from Tim McGraw's "My Best Friend"

Tim woke up clinging to the whisps of a dream that fled from the screeching of his alarm. As he blinked himself back to consciousness, he grasped vainly for the subject of the dream and was left feeling inexplicably wistful.

His fumbling fingers managed to silence the alarm, but there was still the unfortunate matter of having to heave himself out of bed, his limbs feeling heavier and more uncooperative than they had in weeks. Apparently, all the extra sleep he’d been getting since he retired still wasn’t enough to make Monday mornings suck any less.

He pushed away the traitorous voice in the back of his head that suggested that maybe his exhaustion had something to do with his conversation with Conner the other night.

Conner had shown up unannounced and asking questions Tim hadn’t expected to have to answer again. “Why didn’t you show at the tower yesterday? And what’s with this new Robin? The girl?”

“Last week…” Tim paused, trying to decide how best to make Conner understand. “My dad found my costume. He found out I was Robin, and he went a little—” Tim paused, unsure, “—overboard. I’ve been wanting to tell him for months anyway.”

Conner turned his head towards where he could hear Jack moving around, easily locking onto his vitals. “He seems totally relaxed now. His heart rate is normal and—”

Tim glanced back at Conner nervously, but still refused to look at him head on. “I quit.”

“You what?” Conner exclaimed.

“I’m not Robin anymore. I gave it up.”

“Why?” Conner couldn’t wrap his mind around what he was hearing.

Tim tried to explain, needing Conner to understand. His approval felt vital in that moment. “I never liked living two lives. I never planned on doing it for this long. And I never wanted to lie to my dad. Now I don’t have to anymore.”

Conner shook his head in denial. “Come on. You can’t do this to the Titans. That girl isn’t… She’s not Robin.”

Tim wanted to stop thinking about that night, but no matter how hard he tried he just couldn’t. The look on Conner’s face when Tim told him he wasn’t coming back to the Titans, how Conner refused to meet Tim’s eyes when he talked about how much he and the other Titans needed Tim, not just Robin. All of it. After all, what right did Conner have to come in and tell Tim how to live his life? Conner was born into this, he didn’t have a Before to compare the hero life to. He didn’t understand what it was like to be torn between two halves of himself.

At that thought, Tim paused about halfway through pulling on a shirt, and immediately felt guilty for even thinking it. Conner had just found out he was half Lex Luthor after all. He was probably the only person Tim knew who would understand exactly how Tim felt being stuck between his Dad and Bruce since the truth came out.

Tim pulled the shirt on the rest of the way with a mental sigh. He wasn’t really mad at Conner. Things had changed really quickly, and the other boy had made a lot of good points. As he ran through the rest of his morning routine, Tim’s mind continued its highlight reel.

“Let it go.”

“You’re my best friend, Tim. How can I? The Titans aren’t the Titans without Robin. They just aren’t.”

“Just because I’m not wearing a cape doesn’t mean we can’t hang.”

For the first time since Tim had explained his motivation, Conner finally met his eyes again. The resignation there made Tim’s throat tighten. “It won’t be the same. I’ve heard that from too many friends. Friends I never talk to anymore.”

And Conner wasn’t wrong. When was the last time he had talked to Cissie? Sure, he still got the occasional update on what she was up to from Cassie on Titans weekends, but that wasn’t the same. It was so easy to lose touch with people who left the hero game. Hell, he hadn’t even spoken to Dick since he quit, and they had supposedly been brothers.

Conner had every right to be worried. But what else was he supposed to do? There was nothing else he could have done to protect everyone’s identities, and it wasn’t like his Dad was about to let him go to group hangouts with a bunch of superteens.

Tim mulled it over as he mechanically choked down a bowl of cereal. His dad had been pretty adamant about the no contact thing, and Tim was trying to be the respectful son his dad deserved. But Conner wasn’t something Tim was willing to sacrifice for his new mission. Besides, what was the harm in just staying touch, it’s not like he was putting himself in danger.

Still, it was probably better safe than sorry. If he got his hands on a computer at school, it wouldn’t be hard to track down the Kents’ phone number. Then it was just a matter of waiting for Dad and Dana to be out long enough for him to have sole access to the landline.

Yeah, Tim thought as he threw his bowl and the sink and headed out to catch his bus, that would work. It would be enough. It had to. Tim just wished he didn’t feel like he was betraying his dad all over again.

-0-

If anyone could read his mind right now, they would be impressed by the amount of self-restraint Conner was exercising to control his strength as well as he was despite how frustrated he was. Unfortunately, poor Lottie the Cow could not read his mind, and, unlike Krypto, she wasn’t hiding any secret Kryptonian powers of her own.

After the third time he used just a tad too much pressure in his attempts to milk her and she shied away from him yet again, he had to concede defeat. As he swapped out with Pa (who was all too willing to pass off the stall mucking), Conner let himself feel the indignation he hadn’t been able to get out of his head since he spoke to Tim.

It just wasn’t right! Anyone with eyes could see how much Tim loved being Robin. Conner knew how much pride he took in being able to hold his own against some of the most powerful people on the planet. How Tim’s heartrate still sped up with excitement every time he swung off a building or when he flew with Conner.

His dad wanted him to be normal so bad? What was more normal than a teen managing to sneak out without their guardian knowing or taking their dad’s car out for a joyride with their friends. So what if the car was a Batmobile or if the adult he was sneaking past was a Tamaranean princess?

And the worst part was that he wasn’t even mad at Tim, not really. Sure, he had been pissed in the moment, but mostly he was just hurt. They had all finally gotten back to normal, and now Tim was leavingagain. It just wasn’t fair. Conner just wanted his best friend back, but every time they got over one hurdle another one showed up. And this was something Conner couldn’t punch.

“If you shovel any harder, you’re going to snap the end off again.”

Conner whirled around, barely managing not to break the poor tool in his surprise. Martha just raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him, a full basket of chicken eggs resting on her hip. “You want to tell me what’s eating you?”

Conner didn’t meet her eyes, just grabbed the now full bucket of manure to take it to the compost. “It’s nothing, Aunt Martha.”

Her brow wrinkled in concern, which was not what Conner had wanted at all. She took another moment, clearly choosing her words carefully. “Well… I know you don’t owe me your thoughts son, and I don’t pretend to know what it’s like to do what you and Clark do.” She started walking alongside Conner before continuing. “But I have raised one Kryptonian and I can listen with the best of them. So, if you need to get something off your chest…”

Dumping the bucket into the compost, Conner almost refused out of habit. Instead, he hesitated, casting his eyes to the side as he grasped for an answer. The sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon. “It’s kinda a long story…” the note of disappointment in his voice seemed to surprise both of them. Martha didn’t miss a step as she steered them back towards the house. She too glanced at the rising sun and then sent Conner an appraising look. “hmmm… School is important. It would be a shame if you had woken up ill this morning and couldn’t attend.”

Conner felt himself gaping like a fish as he followed her inside.

-0-

Tim was pretending not to notice Dana hovering when the doorbell rang.

And wasn’t that a fun situation. Tim wasn’t quite sure how much Dana knew. He knew his dad hadn’t told her about Robin, as per the arrangement. But he wasn’t sure what story she’d been given instead, or, more likely, if she’d just been left to draw her own conclusions.

Regardless, she clearly knew Tim had been hiding something because she had been acting strangely ever since. Making excuses to keep him in view, asking much more probing questions about his day and who he was spending it with, checking out parenting books on “troubled teens.”

She hadn’t said anything to Tim about whatever it was she thought was going on, but she had always been over-protective of Tim. Sure it could occasionally cross over into infantilizing, but, after a lifetime of people only worrying about Tim’s wellbeing when it affected them, it was kinda nice to have a parent care so openly.

Still, this was starting to get ridiculous. It wasn’t like he was running a drug empire from the kitchen table, and writing an English essay while someone keeps sneaking glances at you while cleaning the stovetop wasn’t exactly easy.

So, the doorbell was a welcome distraction.

While Dana rose to answer the door, Tim tried to focus back on his paper, as if he could make it write itself with the force of his glare. However, there was no amount of effort that would ever keep him from recognizing that voice.

He was at the door before he even realized he’d made the decision.

“—don’t know why he didn’t mention it, ma’am, we made these plans last week.”

“Well, I don’t know if I’m really comfortable with letting you boys go without clearing it with Jack fir—"

Tim peeked around Dana’s shoulder to see Conner Kent, glasses and all, staring up at his stepmom with an almost comically earnest expression. “Dana?”

She glanced back at Tim, not letting go of the half-open door. “Your friend—”

“Conner,” the boy in question supplied helpfully.

“Right,” she said with a forced smile, “Your friend, Conner, was just telling me that you two made plans to get together to study tonight? Tim, honey, you know your Dad wants you to let him know before you make plans to go out with people we don’t know.”

Tim did know. It was one of many new rules that his dad had decided to implement after he found his Robin gear. The restrictions chafed, but, as his dad pointed out, he definitely deserved the lack of trust at this point.

But when he caught the cocky “play along” grin over Dana’s shoulder, Tim stomach filled with warmth at the familiarity. He quickly schooled his expression into an appropriately sheepish smile. “Sorry Dana, I guess it just slipped my mind.”

Dana softened, her grip on the door slackening just a tad.

“If it helps, Mrs. Drake,” Conner broke in, “we can just study here.”

Tim wondered if Conner had learned the earnest and polite young man routine from watching Clark or if it was just natural talent. Either way it was enough for Dana, leading her to relax and open the door completely.

“Oh, that would be perfect! Tim, honey, why don’t you get you and your friend set up at the table? Will you be staying for dinner, Conner? We’re having Chinese tonight, and it’d be no problem to order an extra serving.”

“That would be great, Mrs. Drake!”

Dana headed back towards the kitchen, presumably looking for the takeout menus, leaving Tim and Conner in awkward silence. Tim decided to break the tension first.

“I’m sorry, Conner, I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I know you were just trying to help.”

“Wait, that’s supposed to be my line! I’m sorry, Tim. I didn’t mean to make it seem like I didn’t think you could make your own decisions.”

“So, still friends?”

“Please! You didn’t think I’d come all the way to Gotham to ditch you now, did you?”

“Why did you come? If that was it, why not just come in the window?”

Conner shifted his weight, hand tightening minutely around the strap of the backpack slung over his shoulder.

“Well, I was talking to Ma earlier, and she helped me realize that even if Robin can’t hang out with Superboy, that doesn’t mean Conner Kent can’t spend time with Tim Drake.” He looked up from his shoes, his blue eyes putting the Gotham sky to shame. “That is… if it’s okay with you?”

If you had asked Conner, Tim’s answering grin could have lit up even the darkest Gotham alley.

-0-

Fifteen minutes later found Tim and Conner side by side at the kitchen table, various homework from various subjects strewn out about. Leaning over under the guise of checking Conner’s math, Tim murmured under his breath for only Conner to hear: “So Conner Kent wears flannel now?”

Conner snorted. “I’m pretty sure it’s the only thing they sell in Smallville,” he whispered back. “Why? You a fan?”

“To be honest… I miss the leather,” he replied thoughtlessly.

“Is that so?” Tim realized what he’d said out loud a moment too late. “I guess I’ll have to keep that in mind,” he smirked.

“Oh, shut up,” Tim replied with a little shove that did absolutely nothing but prompt Conner to break out into full body laughter so loud it drew Dana in from the living room to see what was going on.

When she found a blushing Tim whispering back furiously and sending her embarrassed looks, she let out a chuckle of her own before leaving them to it. She had a good feeling about this kid.

-0

It quickly became routine for Conner to come by after school to do homework a few days a week. Tim had worried that it might have been getting Conner in trouble, but Conner had assured him that he had worked things out with ‘Ma so that he still got all his chores done in spite of the extra hours he was putting in Gotham. And as for Batman, well, if he didn’t want him coming to Gotham to see Tim, he shouldn’t have told him how to find him.

And at least he wasn’t dangling the latest Robin in mid-air anymore.

Whether by fate or weird coincidence, however, he still hadn’t managed to run into Jack Drake while he was monopolizing his son’s time yet. The first night Conner stayed for dinner had ended with them all waiting for half an hour after the food arrived before Jack remembered to call and let Dana know he would be working late. It wasn’t the last time either. And the nights he did come home for dinner were the nights where Conner had already planned to head home early to have dinner with his own family.

Not to say Conner minded. He had some thoughtsabout Jack Drake and the way he treated his son. It was probably better for everyone that Conner spent as little time with the man as possible.

But there was only so long that could last, especially since Tim was practically dying to get out of the house for more than just school or Jack’s father-son excursions.

Unfortunately, as time went on Jack had only gotten more paranoid about where Tim was going and what he was doing, not less. Lately, Tim was practically on lockdown since it was such a pain to get permission to go anywhere without his dad or Dana. The last time he had gone out to the diner with Bernard and Darla his Dad had “just happened” to stop by for a to-go coffee. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that he had been making sure Tim really was where he said he was.

His only saving grace was Dana. While she still enforced his dad’s rules (apparently not wanting to undermine his parenting), Tim had overheard her arguing on his behalf with his dad on multiple occasions, insisting that Tim was a good kid who had earned a little bit of freedom. Granted, these conversations rarely accomplished much besides getting Jack to dismiss her concerns as a lack of understanding due to not having children of her own. Still, Tim appreciated the support. Particularly since Dana had clearly decided that she liked Conner and essentially left them to their own devices while they were “studying.”

Now in addition to actually doing their homework, they were able to spend time talking about the rest of their lives, especially the normal civilian stuff they never seemed to have time for during Titans weekends. Everything from friendships, to TV shows, to their relationships with their parents was fair game. Tim had felt like he knew Conner before, but this was a whole new level. And the more he learned, the more he wanted to know.

And that’s why he had recruited Dana.

It hadn’t been hard. For once in his life, being completely honest with an authority figure about what he wanted was enough. It probably shouldn’t have felt as weird as it did.

Dana had given him a strange look when he mentioned he wanted to hang out with Conner outside of studying, but she had agreed that she didn’t see a problem with it. After all, if his father was alright with him spending time with Bernard (who Dana knew firsthand was not exactly the best of influences) then surely he would be okay with Tim spending more time with “a nice young man” like Conner. He just needed to meet him first.

It would be fine. Probably.

And that was how the two of them had ended up setting the dining table while Dana put the finishing touches on what she assured Tim was Jack’s favorite meal.

“Dude, you’ve got to take a breath,” Conner whispered as he reached around Tim. “I’ve heard your heart beat slower going up against literal mercenaries.”

Tim snorted. “I’ll take Deathstroke over this any day.”

“Hey now,” he shot back with a scandalized hand to his chest, “I’ll have you know I am delightful company!”

Tim’s futile attempts at a mock glare were interrupted when he could no longer hold back the urge to giggle at the absurdity of the situation. He could go up against the worst the world had to offer without thinking twice, but the idea of his dad and his best friend in the same room had him on the verge of a panic attack.

He shot Conner a grateful smile. “I just really need this to go well.”

Conner slung a careless arm around Tim’s shoulder but spoke with a level of seriousness he rarely let people see. “And it will, I promise. We make a good team, remember? We can handle this.”

Tim nodded and drew in some deep breaths to calm his racing pulse. Conner didn’t say anything else, just let him take the minute he needed. Just as Tim had gotten a hold of himself and was about to gently shrug off Conner’s arm, Conner pulled away of his own accord with a parting squeeze of Tim’s shoulder.

“He’s here,” he explained, gesturing to the front door with his chin as he finished off the last place setting.

Sure enough, a moment later Tim heard the telltale click of a key in a lock. There was a very slight possibility that his breathing may have quickened again just a bit if the bemused look Conner sent him was any indication.

Tim most definitely did not stick his tongue out at his friend before heading to the entryway to take his dad’s coat.

Conner and his snicker followed a beat behind Tim. When Jack’s gaze finally landed on Conner, Conner felt his spine straighten involuntarily. Jack didn’t say anything at first, and in the stretching silence Conner felt himself trying to channel every bit of the big blue boy scout he had in him.

Jack’s eyes cast over every bit of Conner’s appearance, from his glasses to his button up to his clean but scuffed sneakers. Conner was uncomfortably reminded of being a literal lab specimen under observation.

Suddenly, Jack’s expression morphed into a charming smile Conner didn’t trust for an instant. He stuck out a hand, and Conner was so caught off guard by the sudden transition that he almost forgot to shake it.

“You must be Tim’s friend. Carter, right?”

“Er—”

“It’s Conner, Dad.”

Jack waved Tim’s correction away. “Right, right, Conner then.” He started walking off to the living room, clearly expecting them to follow. “Dana tells me that you’ve been coming over to study quite a bit lately. I hope your grades have seen a better uptick than Tim’s have.”

Conner sent a questioning glance Tim’s way but didn’t get a response other than the visible tension in the other boy’s jaw.

“Not really sure what the point of a study group is if it doesn’t actually raise your grades any,” Jack continued.

Assuming that the biting comment was rhetorical and feeling supremely awkward, Conner didn’t respond right away. But as the three of them each pulled up a chair, Jack’s impatient expression clued Conner in on the fact that he was actually supposed to answer.

“Er…yes sir. I’ve been really lucky to have Tim’s help getting caught up.”

Jack was saved from responding beyond a noncommittal hmm by Dana’s arrival with the food. As she placed the casserole dish of what looked like enchiladas on the table, Dana gave them all a forced smile.

“And it’s been so nice getting to know one of Tim’s friends, Conner.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Drake.”

“So how did you and Tim start hanging out?” Jack questioned absently.

They had prepped for this question. Conner used the opportunity to launch into an overdramatic retelling of a group project they had worked on together and how they realized that they worked well together. Like all the best lies, it included just enough details not to be suspicious while still having a kernel of truth.

His story succeeded in breaking the ice enough to get conversation started, and Conner felt himself relaxing. He had meant what he said to Tim earlier, but he didn’t exactly meet that many new civilians. But Tim had prepared him well, and this wasn’t his first undercover op. He skillfully navigated around dangerous truths and gave the performance of his life as the perfect All-American teen.

Maybe he should have felt guilty about lying to these people who had opened their home to him. Clark probably would have had something to say about it. After all, on paper Jack had every right to be upset. His son had literally been throwing himself in front of bullets for strangers for years behind his back. Not only that, but he’d been doing it alongside another adult he had trusted to have his son’s best interests at heart. Surely any good parent would have been just as upset, right?

But Conner was very aware that Jack Drake was not the parent he believed himself to be.

Good parents didn’t ship their kid off to boarding schools from the minute he was old enough to attend, and then never show up for the few weeks their kid is home.

Good parents don’t look at everything that makes you you and try to sand it away so that you’ll fit some perfect ideal they have in their head of what you should be.

Good parents don’t look at the emotional scars and bruises they’ve given to their child and tell them that its their own fault for making them do this, for not being enough or for being too much.

Jack Drake may not have laid a hand on his son, but he’d still done plenty of damage, and Conner was forced to watch Tim thank him for it.

So, no. Conner didn’t feel an ounce of guilt for lying to the man who constantly left his favorite person more confused and conflicted than any mystery Batman had ever handed to him.

Tim may not realize that he deserved better yet, but that was alright. Conner would flatter and charm and play meek and responsible without feeling a single thing if it made Tim’s life easier.

As the conversation shifted to what was new with Dana’s sister and her kids, Conner met Tim’s eyes again. Tim subtly tipped his glass approvingly toward Conner, and Conner sent back an answering wink.

Well, he corrected internally, maybe he’d feel one thing after all.

-0

Gotham wasn’t exactly known for its tourist attractions. It was kind of a risky financial decision to try to open anything that encouraged a lot of people to congregate in a city where crowds drew Rogues like killer moths to a flamethrower. And that went double for anything that could be construed as children’s entertainment.

Luckily, Gothamites were both stubborn and spiteful, so there were a few places, like the traveling carnival currently set up near the harbor, that popped up every now and then with that brilliant fuck you energy that so clearly defined the city.

After last week’s dinner got off to its admittedly awkward start, Conner had hit his stride. Seamlessly switching between the perfect “aw shucks, me?” smile when asked a question about himself and then an earnest “tell me more about…” to turn the conversation back to Jack’s interests, Conner would have earned even the Batman’s reluctant approval.

By the end of the night, Jack was riding the high of getting to speak about himself to a willing audience for so long. It was all too easy to get Jack’s permission for Tim to hang out with Conner outside the house… as long as he still made sure to call and check in on the hour, of course.

Tim hadn’t hesitated to get them tickets for the second night the carnival was in town (not wanting to tempt a Rogue’s attack on the first), and the night had finally arrived.

Now, sharing a seat on the ferris wheel with the other teen, Tim couldn’t understand why he’d been so worried. He’d always been the first to insist that there was so much more to Conner than people gave him credit for.

Tim found himself glancing at Conner out of the corner of his eye. Luckily, the other boy was too busy leaning over the railing to watch the sun set behind the city skyline.

Most people looked at Superboy and saw a brash, arrogant, and (if he was lucky) comical teenager. They dismissed him as the brawn to other Titans’ brains. They couldn’t understand how he could be so different from Superman.

Tim knew better than that. Sure, he could be all those things, but what teenager wasn’t? Especially considering all the shit the authority figures in his life had put him through. And yeah, he was funny too.

But Conner was also a damn good friend. He was loyal and brave and empathetic and fiercely protective of the people who had earned his respect. He paid attention to people, and he cared so deeply, even though he tried to cover it up with nonchalance and a confident façade. He might be bulletproof, but Tim would protect that vulnerability he saw until the day he died.

“Alright. Where’d you go?”

Pulled back into the moment rather suddenly, Tim was startled, but he didn’t have to worry about coming up with a suitably mysterious response here. “What?”

Conner snorted and raised one hand to slide his sunglasses just far enough down the bridge of his nose that he could meet Tim’s eyes.

“You’re looking at me weird. What’s up?”

As Tim tried to decide how to answer in a way that wasn’t completely cheesy, the ferris wheel paused again, this time with the two of them at the very top.

“I just—I’m just really glad you’re here. Thanks for coming to Gotham.” He didn’t just mean today either. He meant all of it. The first time he came to find out why Robin wasn’t at the tower, the time he showed up at Tim’s door even what would have chased anyone else away, and every other time they had hung out since.

He didn’t have to specify that though. The blinding smile that broke out over Conner’s face made it clear the message was received.

Conner took a moment, trying to school his expression into something a little smoother, but it was a lost cause. Eventually he just settled for clearing his throat. “You don’t have to thank me, Tim. There’s no place I’d rather be. Besides,” he continued as he casually threw an arm across the back of Tim’s seat, “everyone knows Gotham has the best sunsets.”

His heart pounding, Tim took a deep breath and let himself sink into Conner’s side. For a second, Conner stiffened and Tim worried that he’d made a horrible mistake, that he’d ruined everything.

It was only when he felt the comforting weight of Conner’s arm move from the seat to wrap around Tim’s shoulders, pulling him closer, that Tim let himself believe that this could be okay. They could have this.

The leather of Conner’s jacket was cool against the side of Tim’s face. The sky was a brilliant mess of golds and reds and purples. And Tim was with the person who made him feel safer and more himself than anyone else on the planet.

“Yeah, I suppose we do, don’t we?”

-0

That evening, Tim sat down on his bed, pulling his camera out of his bag. He was looking forward to developing them. Maybe he’d give Conner a few of the shots if they were any good.

knock knock

Tim looked up to see Dana leaning up against the doorframe she had knocked on.

“Hey, Honey. Did y’all have a good time?”

Tim couldn’t have held back the smile if he’d tried. “Oh yeah, it was awesome!”

Dana smiled back just as warmly. “Oh, I’m so glad!” Tim believed her. That was the best thing about Dana, she was one of the most genuine people he knew, and for some reason Tim couldn’t fathom, she had always seemed to care so much about Tim.

“Do you mind if I come in, sweetheart? There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about…”

-0

“I swear to god I used to be good at keeping secrets,” Tim groaned as he allowed his head to thunk dramatically against the diner table.

Conner didn’t look up from his menu, but he did use his TTK to save their waters from tipping over. “Sure you were,” he deadpanned.

“I was literally trained in deception and resistance to interrogation by one of the best detectives in the world.”

“Yup.”

“She still doesn’t know I was Robin. Neither of them have made the very obvious connections between you and a certain Boy of Steel for some reason.

“It’s the glasses.”

“It is not the glasses.”

“It is,” he said. “Conner Kent wears glasses, and Superboy doesn’t. Therefore, obviously different people.” His forehead crinkled. “Do you think a sweet potato milkshake would be any good?”

“It wouldn’t be the weirdest thing I’ve ever eaten.” Tim squinted back up suspiciously from where he was still sprawled on the table. “Also, I feel like you are not being nearly sympathetic enough to my plight.”

Conner finally gave up the pretense of looking at the menu and dropped his chin to rest on his hands on the tabletop, so his face was only a few inches from Tim’s long-suffering expression.

Unfortunately for Tim’s dignity, Conner’s crooked grin was infectious. “How long did it take her to figure it out?”

“Ugh, she apparently she knew the minute she saw me, but at least she promised not to tell Dad.”

Conner snickered.

“Don’t laugh! She tried to give me the talk, Conner!”

That just sent Conner into full-body cackles. Tim watched him throw his head back and couldn’t help but feel proud. He did that. But he wasn’t done pouting yet either. It was the principle of the thing, after all.

“Sorry—” Conner gasped, “Sorry babe!” He leaned forward to place a kiss to Tim’s forehead, reveling in the way his boyfriend blushed so immediately. “You can hide just about anything else, sure, but you’ve got absolutely no poker face when you’re happy.”

Tim grumbled good naturedly like the absolute gremlin he was before finally deciding to sit up when a rather unimpressed waitress stopped by to take their order.

When she walked off, Conner turned back to Tim, casually taking one of Tim’s hands in his as though they weren’t both still completely in awe of this new development.

“So…” Conner started. “You were supposed to get together with your Wizards & Warlocks friends over the weekend, right? How’d that go?”

Tim’s eyes lit up as he started telling Conner about the most recent developments to their current campaign. Conner did his best to make sense of all of the characters and jargon he had no reference for, since it clearly meant a lot to Tim. Though that was made a little trickier by how much fun he was having just watching Tim.

He rarely got to see him so animated, due to the expectations constantly heaped on Robin and Tim Drake alike. When talking about something he enjoyed, however, Tim came alive. So, Conner listened, asking real questions that sparked off another tangent every time he started running out of steam.

Conner wondered if Tim’s eyes had always sparkled that much when they were hidden behind a mask. He didn’t think so, but either way he was just grateful Tim trusted him enough to let him see.

-0

“So then Ives—oh, Dana, can you pass the bread? thanks—Ives ended up rolling a Nat 20 on persuasion, which completely messed with my pla—”

“Alright, alright, I’m about tapped out on Witches & Wizards—” Jack interrupted, his hands raised in a timeout gesture.

“Jack!” Dana admonished.

“It’s actually Wizards & Warlocks, Dad.”

“Whatever it’s called! There’s only so much of this I can hear before my brain rots.”

Tim forced an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Dad.”

Jack waved away the apology with his buttered roll. “Forget about it. Hey, how’s your school’s basketball team this year? I was thinking we would go to the game this Friday, just the two of us.”

“Oh,” Tim said, “I don’t really know. Umm… what time is the game? Because I already made plans to go see a movie with Conner on Friday before he has to go away for the weekend for some family stuff.”

Jack frowned and Tim found himself straightening up involuntarily. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with that Conner kid. What’s up with that?” he asked accusatorily.

Wary of stumbling into a trap he couldn’t see, Tim tried to feign a casualness he didn’t feel. “I don’t know, I guess I just realized we have a lot in common, but I hang out with a lot of people. Why do you ask?”

This apparently wasn’t enough for Jack because he didn’t let it go, even putting his fork down so he could make sure his full attention was on Tim. “You don’t though! You almost never talk about Bernard anymore, or that Darla girl! The wizards thing was weird enough, but now if it’s not that then it’s Conner this or Conner that! If you’re not careful, you’re gonna give people the wrong idea about the two of you.”

The tightening in Tim’s throat would have been painful if it weren’t for the numbness he felt sinking into his bones.

“And now you’re suddenly too good to hang out with your dad anymore? I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but I’m concerned about the person you’re becoming lately.”

“No! No, Dad it’s not like that—”

Tim looked at a wide-eyed Dana desperately for help. Ever ready to defend Tim when he needed, Dana didn’t disappoint.

“Oh, Jack, honey,” she laughed a little too loudly, “leave the poor boy be. He’s a good kid, and it’s healthy for a teenage boy to want to spend more time with his friends! I don’t see the harm in it. Honestly, shouldn’t we be proud of him for honoring his commitments?”

Jack’s glare was as hard as steel and just as cold. “Don’t tell me what I should and shouldn’t be proud of. I think I know how to parent my son.”

Dana broke eye-contact first, and Jack seemed to be the only one immune to the rising tension. Eventually he paused his meal consideringly. “Though I suppose you do have a point, Dana. Tim and I will just have to go to the next game, hmm?”

Grateful for the out, Tim nodded quickly. “Sounds great, Dad.”

-0

Tim had been looking forward to seeing this movie since he’d seen the first preview, but he hadn’t been paying attention at all for the last ten minutes. Oh well, he could come back and watch it again later, maybe with the guys in his W&W group.

In the meantime, it was definitely worth the sacrifice. Kissing Conner in the back row of the theatre, Tim had never felt more like a normal teenager in his life. This might be just as fun as running over rooftops.

-0

Conner swung Tim’s hand back and forth between them as they walked, feeling a bit like a little kid. Most people probably would have been on edge walking through the streets of Gotham right after sunset, but most people weren’t literally bulletproof.

As it was, Conner would have been content to stay out there all night if it meant he got to keep holding Tim’s hand while he chattered about the photos he had taken on their last outing to the botanical gardens and how they had turned out. Conner had learned more about camera lenses in the last ten minutes than he had in his life, and he was loving it.

Unfortunately, the Titans would be expecting him in an hour or so, and Tim’s dad would probably take exception to his son being out all night under mysterious circumstances. So, it was with a heavy sigh that Conner finally arrived at the Drake’s brownstone.

The boys came to a stop before reaching the front steps, neither ready for the night to end. Conner leaned forward to press his forehead to rest against Tim’s.

“You know,” he whispered, “I know I said I wanted Robin to come back to the Titans —and don’t get me wrong, I would still love that— but I’m also kinda loving having you all to myself.”

Tim chuckled and when that laugh turned into a crooked grin that made Conner’s stomach flutter, he couldn’t resist kissing it back off.

WHAM

Tim and Conner jumped apart as the door to the brownstone slammed open. Jack glared down at them.

“Tim. Get in this house, right now.” When Tim hesitated to move, Jack’s tone only grew even more demanding. “I said get in this house Timothy Jackson Drake.”

The sound of his full name seemed to spark Tim back to life, as he scrambled back towards the house. Conner gently caught one of Tim’s hands just before he was out of reach, and the other boy looked at him like a started deer.

“Do you want me to…” Conner trailed off with a meaningful hand wave at the side of his head. Do you want me to listen in, he was asking.

Tim thought about it for a second before shaking his head. “But maybe don’t go far?”

Conner nodded decisively before meeting Jack’s hateful gaze defiantly for just a moment. He shoved his fists into his jacket pockets before storming off to the corner. As soon as he was out of view, however, he took advantage of Gotham’s perpetual lighting problem to fly up to the roof of the house next to Tim’s, ready to be there the minute Tim needed him.

He settled in to wait, trying to focus on anything but the shouting coming from the Drake residence.

It was probably took longer than it should have for Conner to realize he wasn’t alone, but, hey, he was distracted. Sue him.

“You can come out. I can hear your heartbeat.”

Black Bat unfurled from where she had blended perfectly into the shadows cast by the air-conditioning unit.

“What are you doing here?” Conner asked.

Cass joined him in sitting on the edge of the roof to watch the brownstone. “A while ago…there was a killer…hunting the last robin. I still check in.”

“Every night?”

“No…but most nights.”

Conner considered that for a moment. “So, I’m guessing you saw…?”

“Yes.” Conner thought he could detect a playful edge to her voice. “You are not very subtle.” Okay, no, he was definitely being teased.

trying to play along, he bumped her shoulder with his own. “Well, we can’t all be bat-level sneaky. The universe couldn’t take it. Some of us have to be showy enough to balance the rest of you out.”

Cass hummed consideringly. “That’s fine. Batman will… train it out of you.”

Conner let himself fall back dramatically in mock horror, and Cass giggled. The sound did not match the mask at all, but somehow the juxtaposition seemed fitting for a member of the bat family.

“It’s how he shows his love, promise.”

Conner smiled, the tension of the moment briefly eclipsed by the mental image of the Batman trying to mother-hen a super. Clark would never let him live it down.

Suddenly, movement drew his eye, and Conner saw Tim. Ready to hear the verdict, Conner rose to fly back down.

“Thanks,” he turned to say, only to find himself met with an empty roof.

Bats, man.

-0

Tim followed Jack into the house, his heart pounding so hard Clark could probably hear it in Metropolis. His lips and fingers felt weirdly tingly before going slightly numb. His brain was going a million miles an hour but his body just felt slightly distant.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. This wasn’t supposed to happen at all. He wasn’t ready for this, it was supposed to be on his terms. But it was happening and it was happening now.

Jack stormed into the living room where Dana was half-risen in concern. She froze at the thunderous expression on his face as Jack being to pace the room like a caged lion. Meanwhile, Tim was a stone statue standing just in the room’s entrance. He felt a little bit like one of the artifacts his parents had brought back as souvenirs from their travels, just another relic meant to show off to friends that just ended up cluttering an empty house. And were Tim’s ears ringing?

“What the fuck did I just see, Tim?!” Jack burst out.

“Dad, I—”

“Don’t you fucking dare try to talk yourself out of this. Do you think I’m some kind of idiot?!”

“No! Of cour—”

“Jack, honey, whatever this is about, maybe we—”

Dana’s attempts to calm Jack only seemed to enrage him more, and she was cut off by the CRASH that came from Jack pitching one of her vases across the room. She froze, her eyes darting between Tim and Jack.

“Do you want to tell her what you’ve been doing behind our backs, Tim, or should I?”

“I—Conner and I--We” Tim sputtered unintelligibly, but Dana got the gist. She closed her eyes for a moment too long in sympathy, and Jack’s fury turned on her in an instant.

“You knew? You knew what was happening, and you didn’t put a stop to it?”

“Jack! There’s nothing wro…”

Her voice trailed off as Jack stalked closer and closer to her chair until he towered over her. She shrunk down. Jack leaned down over her and braced himself on the arms of the chair, effectively trapping his wife.

“Do you even care about what this could do to us?” His voice had gone low and picked up a dangerous quality that reminded Tim of the way Batman spoke to criminals he interrogated. But Tim had never been afraid of Batman.

He went on, his head tilted mockingly. “Or, are you just too stupid and selfish to realize how this reflects back on me?”

And, as he watched Dana start to shake, something in Tim snapped.

He was across the room in an instant, wrenching Jack’s arm behind his back so that he was forced to step back and turn around to keep it from breaking. The second Jack let go of Dana’s chair, Tim shoved him stumbling in the opposite direction.

“Leave her alone.”

Jack spun back around. “Did you just shove me?” he asked in pure outrage.

Tim’s chin raised defiantly. “I told you I could, didn’t I?”

At the reminder of the night Jack found out about Robin, Jack’s face twisted back into something ugly.

“So what?! I risk my life to save you from those freaks the first time, and this is the thanks I get? How the hell is anyone supposed to take me seriously when my son is—”

“I didn’t ASK you to save me, Dad!” Tim shouted. Years and years of bottling his resentment and frustration had led to an inevitable explosion, and Tim didn’t care who got burned. “I loved being Robin, I loved getting to help people, and getting to show what I can do. I worked so hard to earn Robin, and I gave it up to make you happy and I still can’t do anything right for you. I am so sick of pretending to be someone I’m not in the hopes that maybe someday it’ll finally be enough for you.”

“Tim—”

“No! It’s my turn now!” Tim’s words were acid. If he didn’t get them out now, they would burn him from the inside out. “I will never be the perfect kid you and Mom thought you deserved. I get that now. But I am enough. Bruce thinks so. Dick thinks so. And Conner thinks so too. I am more me with him than I am with anyone else. You already took Robin from me. I won’t let you take this from me too.”

Jack puffed up in rage. Seemingly having forgotten his lesson, he stormed into Tim’s space. Tim took a few steps back on instinct before he came back to himself and planted his feet, forcing Jack to stop to avoid a collision. Their faces were only a few inches apart as they glared at each other.

Tim realized he was almost as tall as his father.

Stubbornly trying to regain the control he could feel slipping through his fingers like water, Jack summoned every bit of authority he had in his body into his tone. “You aren’t seeing him again. This never happens again. Do I make myself clear?”

It was a good effort, but Tim had fought the Justice League. He regularly stared down the worst Gotham had to offer and said not here, not today. There was a lot he was willing to do to keep the peace. But Tim was fed up, and this was one thing he refusedto compromise on.

“No.”

There was nothing as immovable as a Bat who had made up their mind.

Maybe Jack finally recognized that because, for just a moment, Tim thought he saw something like sadness in his father’s eyes before they hardened like steel.

“Then get out.”

Tim blinked, his confusion enough to break through the bubble of anger that had been clouding out all else. “What?”

“I said get out of my house. And don’t come back.”

“Dad—”

“I don’t know who you are anymore. But you aren’t my son. I guess Batman ended up killing him after all.”

Tim’s eyes widened. He wasn’t sure whether it was the grief or betrayal that cut worse, but he kinda wished the numbness would come back. He drew in a deep breath, pulling what was left of his anger around him like a shield. Or maybe a cloak.

He spun around on his heel and marched back toward the front door.

The movement seemed to break the trance of confused horror that had held Dana like a vice as she watched the argument unfold like a demented tennis match.

“Tim!” she called after him. She reached out vainly as if that would be enough to close the distance that had opened up between them like a chasm. “Tim, sweetheart!”

Tim couldn’t turn around, but that didn’t make Dana’s heartbroken tone any less painful to hear.

He didn’t stop once he was out of the door until he was halfway down the street. And then, it was only because Conner landed right in front of him.

“Hey, what happened?”

Tim couldn’t answer. He couldn’t make eye contact right now either. But Conner didn’t press him.

“Okay,” he reassured, “that’s okay.” He raised one hand for Tim to take if he wanted. “Can I give you a lift then?”

Tim took the hand.

-0

Tim directed Conner to touch down at the Manor’s front door, not wanting to risk the possibility of Bruce having changed the security codes by now. Even still, he was certain they had tripped some sort of alarm when they flew over the property.

He was proven correct when Alfred pulled open the door before he’d had the chance to knock. If he noticed that Tim still hadn’t let go of Conner’s hand, the butler didn’t say anything.

“Master Timothy! What an excellent surprise!”

Despite everything, Tim found his mouth pulling into a fond smile at the old man. “Hi Alfred. Is Bruce home? I need to talk to him.”

“Right this way, sir!” Alfred said, already pulling the door open, and Conner allowed himself to be pulled along with nothing but a supportive hand squeeze.

Tim felt his heart pounding as he followed Alfred towards what he quickly realized was Bruce’s study. Suddenly unable to bear the silence anymore, Tim burst out: “Alfred, have you met Conner?”

Alfred’s face twitched into what only the bats would recognize as the butler suppressing a fond smile of his own. “I have not, sir. Though I must admit I had guessed.” Addressing Conner directly this time, Alfred continued, “My name is Alfred Pennyworth. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Kent.”

“Oh, uh…” Conner stammered before Martha Kent’s training kicked in. “It’s nice to meet you too, Mr. Pennyworth.”

Alfred hmmd approvingly but left it there. Luckily, Tim was saved from further attempts at small talk by their arrival at the study doors. Alfred bid them goodbye before slipping away with a subtlety Conner had only thought attainable by bats.

Tim drew in a deep breath before knocking hesitatingly on the ornate doors. The “come in!’ came barely a moment later, and Tim pushed them open with the resignation of a convict approaching the gallows.

On any other day, Conner would have been looking around at anything and everything in the office appreciatively. But today he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Tim who had gone ramrod straight, his own gaze locked onto the man standing up from his desk at the other end of the room.

Bruce Wayne rose from his desk, in that moment somehow managing to look twice as intimidating in a tailored suit as he ever did as Batman. His eyes roved over both boys, taking in everything from their still intertwined hands to Conner’s civilian garb to the way Tim looked like he might be on the verge of passing out. His face was inscrutable the whole time.

Eventually, Bruce’s gaze met Conner’s own defiant glare. “So…” he drawled in perfect deadpan, “are the glasses genetic, or is the entire caped community conspiring to drive me prematurely gray.”

Tim let out a sudden laugh so strangled Conner was mildly concerned he was choking. Conner could empathize.

Apparently amused by their reaction, the Batman smirked,and Conner’s soul left his body for a moment.

When it became clear that they weren’t going to say anything on their own, Bruce continued. “Well, Conner, something tells me that Tim and I need to have a conversation. Will you be joining us, or do you have somewhere to be,” he asked mildly.

Conner gave Tim a sideways glance, under no delusions about who’s comfort Bruce was really concerned with here. Tim squeezed Conner’s hand one more time before finally letting go, and Conner took that as the dismissal it was.

“Actually, sir, I think better head to San Francisco before Victor starts to wonder where I am.”

Bruce nodded turned his attention to Tim. Conner made sure to supportively squeeze Tim’s shoulder back on his way out. He tried to ignore the part of himself that made him feel like he was abandoning Tim to the lions.

-0

Once Conner had pulled the door shut behind him, Bruce let go of the bit of Batman that had made its appearance the minute the proximity alarms had let him know that someone had flown over the property boundaries.

“Tim.”

Tim still wasn’t making eye contact, his gaze getting no closer than Bruce’s mouth. Bruce resisted the instinct to drop into the Batman voice. While it would be a sure-fire way to get Tim to look at him, it also would do nothing to actually make the kid more comfortable. Tim would assume that it meant he’d done something wrong, and that would just make everything ten times worse.

Instead, Bruce fought to keep his tone as even and gentle as possible. “How about we sit down,” he asked with a gesture toward the twin armchairs by the fire.

Tim nodded stiffly but still wouldn’t speak. Bruce held in his sigh. Just as he reached his own chair, there was another knock on the door, and Alfred pushed his way in without waiting for a response.

“Forgive me for interrupting, Master Bruce, but I thought some soothing tea might be helpful.”

Bruce smiled at the older man. “Thank you, Alfred. That would be great.”

Alfred nodded and brought his tray over to the side table before pouring each of them a cup. As he turned to leave, Tim’s quiet “thanks” was almost inaudible, but Alfred caught it anyway.

“You are most welcome, young man” he replied, making sure to send Bruce a pointed don’t screw this up glance on his way out.

Bruce settled down into the chair next to Tim, their knees almost close enough to touch. Tim’s hands were wrapped so tightly around his teacup that Bruce worried he might shatter it, but he didn’t take so much as a sip.

“Tim. Can you tell me what’s going on, son?”

Tim finally looked up from his cup again, his gaze settling on Bruce’s mouth again.

“I’m not really sure where to start.”

Okay, Bruce could work with that. “Does your Dad know where you are right now?”

Tim snorted humorlessly. “I really don’t think he gives a shit where I am or what I do at this point. He—” Tim broke off to clear his throat before trying again. “He kicked me out.”

There was pure defeat in Tim’s voice, as if he’d always known it was a matter of time, but he still managed to be disappointed anyway. That more than anything filled Bruce with a level of rage rare even for him while simultaneously breaking his heart.

Not trusting himself to speak at first, Bruce instead gently pulled the poor teacup out of Tim’s grasp and took his hands in his own. Tim’s fingers were trembling.

“Because he found out about you and Conner?” he clarified softly, not wanting to risk a faulty assumption when everything was so fragile.

Tim nodded again anyway. “We fought about some other stuff too, but… yeah, it was mostly about that. He saw us together, and—”

Again, Bruce really wanted to shake Jack Drake senseless. It was bad enough he always seemed to take this wonderful kid for granted, but to see a father intentionally hurt his child over something so inconsequential? It was unforgiveable.

“I’m so sorry, Tim. I know how much you wanted this to work out.”

Tim’s eyes filled with tears, and Bruce was pulling him against his chest even before he consciously recognized what he was seeing. As his son fell apart in his arms, Bruce found tears coming to his own eyes as well.

It had always been obvious how desperate Tim was for his father’s affection and approval after being starved for it for so many years. This was the final deathblow to the hope that one day it would be enough.

So, Bruce held his son, running his fingers through his hair. Eventually, Tim had cried himself out and pulled away, his embarrassment clear on his face. Bruce pulled a clean handkerchief (courtesy of Alfred, of course) from his pocket and handed it to a grateful Tim. Once he had pulled himself together, Tim looked back at Bruce, finally meeting his eyes.

“Does this…Does this mean I can come back to the Manor?”

“Oh, chum…” Bruce reached out to cradle one side of Tim’s face in his hand, his thumb reaching out to brush away another rogue tear. “I promise, you will always have a place in my home. Got it?”

“But what about Stephanie? You already have a Robin…”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Well, first of all, your place in this family is not contingent on whether you’re wearing a mask or not. And I’m so sorry if I’ve made you think otherwise. You are just as welcome here if you never put a mask on again as you would be if you went out tomorrow.

And secondly,” here he grimaced, “I may or may not have fired her for putting herself in danger after I told her to stay put. So… Robin’s yours if you still want it.”

“And you’re really okay with me dating a guy?”

Bruce chuckled. “Tim, I’ve taken in three boys by now. You think I never considered the possibility that at least one of you might bring home a boy someday? Granted, I would have put money on Dick being the first, but the point still stands. It makes absolutely no difference to me if you’re gay, buddy.”

“Umm… I think I’m bi actually.”

“Alright then, but my point still stands. I trust your judgment, and I don’t care who you date, as long as they make you happy.”

Tim gave a watery smile. “Thanks, Bruce.”

“Anytime, kiddo.” Then fully out of emotion points, Bruce cleared his suddenly tight throat. “Now, mind coming with me to the cave?”

Confused, Tim cocked his head, but rose accommodatingly. “Sure, what do you need?”

Bruce shook his head as he spun the clock hands and opened the secret passage. “It’s not what I need, but what you need.” He beckoned Tim to follow him down the steps, which he did obligingly. “I need to grab some more Kryptonite.”

“Bruce!” Tim squawked in shock and indignation. His brain immediately went into panic mode, thinking about all the ways Bruce trying to shovel-talk Conner might go horribly wrong, or at least be horribly embarrassing.

Bruce turned back, completely baffled by how adamant and unexpected the refusal was. “Tim,” he started. And oh no, that was his I don’t know why you’re arguing with this perfectly reasonable request voice that always managed to piss Dick off.

“If the two of you are going to be spending time together in Gotham as civilians, you need to be prepared in case the two of you get caught up in one a Rogue attack.” He turned back around and continued on over to the vault where he kept the Kryptonite. “Oh, and don’t let me forget to give him one of these new rebreathers I’ve been working on next time he comes over. The last thing Gotham needs is a Kryptonian getting dosed with Fear Toxin or Joker Gas.”

Kryptonite in hand, Bruce spun and nearly walked into a frozen Tim who was looking at him with a dumbfounded expression. “What?” he asked, the smallest bit of defensiveness bleeding into his voice.

Tim’s voice turned slightly skeptical. “And that’s the only thing you want the Kryptonite for?”

Now it was Bruce’s turn to be confused. “Yes???” he asked, mind whirling to figure out what he was missing.

Tim realized he had definitely misread where this was going and felt torn between laughing at Bruce’s complete confusion and the urge to hug him.

He decided to go with the second one, and if Bruce still had no idea what was going on when he hugged Tim back, well, that just made it better.

-0

Conner was happy enough to take the call that saved him from having to help seed the backfield. He was twice as happy to hear it was from Tim, who he hadn’t heard from since Conner left him at Wayne Manor three days ago.

“Tim?”

“Conner…”

“Tim, is that…you?”

“It’s me.”

“What’s up? What’s going on? I hear gunshots.”

“Tell the Titans not to give up my room. Tell them I’m back.”

Conner grinned. “I knew it.”

[liliability]

Rohan: caning

New oc!

CW: human trafficking, caning, blood, noncon touching (a bit suggestive), intimate/sadistic whumper, hanging, begging, future pet whump (with implied noncon), fictional worldbuilding.

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

“Saints, you’re barely twenty, aren’t you?”

“T-twenty-” His voice cracked. Rohan closed his eyes, trying to focus on the foreign words his father once taught him in the shelter. The words that had always been effortless to him now refused to come, lost somewhere between his panicked breaths and the throbbing pain in his shoulders. His raw throat protested any sign of communication.

Somewhere, there had been pain. Strong hands held Rohan by his shoulders, taking him away from the caravan. There was a glimpse of copper hair, a weeping mother, her clothes spattered with blood, crying out for her son. He remembers calling out for his dad.

Then, he’d woken up here.

Rohan’s wrists were held over his head by a pair of rusting manacles. The chain that attached them to the ceiling was barely long enough to let him scrape his toes along the floor. For the past ten minutes, Rohan had balanced on his tiptoes, trying to get some slack. Still, his shoulders ached for bearing his weight while he was unconscious. 

The room where he was left could’ve been described as cozy, if not for restraints holding him in place. There was a queen-sized bed in one corner, where a blonde woman, dressed as a maid, sat on the verge of passing out. Another maid helped her calm down, while a tall, younger man stood by the wall. He looked like an average Ettoryan man, casually dressed, heavy-lidded eyes so similar to all the foreign students Rohan’s father had taught over the years, but unlike all the meek soon-to-be college boys that Rohan had met, this man stood there like he owned the place, his fingers curled around an ornamented cane.

He eyed Rohan like the boy was prey, and Rohan couldn’t help but give him some reason. Sharp green eyes moved over Rohan’s face, taking in his labored breaths and glazed eyes. Then, he smiled and walked towards him.

The man circled Rohan with his cane in hands, until he was no longer in the prisoner’s sight. “No.” Rohan said, weaker than he intended to. His hands twisted uselessly over him, a failed attempt to turn around and face his captor. “W-wait, wait, what are you doing , what are you-”

“Do I have to repeat myself, prodtyia?” The stranger spoke from behind, his mouth too close to Rohan’s ear. There was more than a bit of contentment in his voice.

“Twenty four.” Rowan mumbled. It didn’t occur to him to lie. 

“Hm. I would have show you some mercy if you were younger”

Without warning, the man brought the cane down on Rohan’s bare back. Rohan screamed. His toes gave up under him and he slumped forward, all his weight caught by agonizing shoulders. Blood ran down from his wrists to his forearms.

The ettoryan stepped back to give Rohan some time to regain his position, then struck him again. The man kept Rohan in place with a hand on his waistband. One maid cried out. Rohan yelled and clenched his eyes shut against the tears.

Again. He sobbed. The pain was raw, worse than anything Rohan had ever endured. With only the manacles to hold to, it was difficult to keep his feet arched.

Again. Again. Again. Rohan’s legs were trembling.

The ettoryan man paused to ran his fingers across Rohan’s back. He let the boy get adjusted to the touch before he slapped his sore welts with a bare hand, eliciting a pitiful cry from him. He moved methodically, hitting-stroking the deep red lines on Rohan’s back, drawing out all sorts of incoherent pleas from his abused throat.

Rohan went rigid when one hand went to his chest and pinched his right nipple. The other stayed on his back, massaging his burning skin with less than careful motions.

“The extension of your suffering is up to you, prodtyia.” The man announced. The cane lay useless on the floor, all of his attention turned to toying with Rohan’s nipple until it hardened on his hand. “I want you to do something for me. Do as I say and you can rest for the night. My maids will clean you up.”

Rohan nodded once. He would have raised his tear-stained face to beg him, anything, please, let me go home, if he wasn’t so exhausted.

The ettoryan released him. “Say my name.”

Rohan panted through his teeth. “B-but, you,....nngh, d-didn’t tell me your name.”

The cane went back on Rohan’s back. He shrieked. 

“No!” He moaned. “P-please, I don’t know-”

Again. Rowan was twisting weakly, barely on his feet. His face was a mess of tears and sweat, and still he tried to spare his shoulders from further pain.

His captor kicked his trembling legs. This time, Rohan didn’t find the strength to rise to his tiptoes. “It only stops when you say my name.”

“I d-don’t know! Please... aaagh, hurts-”

Another blow. The maids looked at them with horror on their face. The younger one paled, her eyes shining with tears. They didn’t felt real. Nothing was real except the agony on Rohan’s back and the man administrating the blows.

“Help!” Rohan begged them. “Help, please-”

The ettoryan grabbed his chin from behind with a bruising grip. “They are not holding the cane, I am. If you’re going to beg, beg for me.”

“P-please...” Rohan’s pleas were barely whispers. “Please, no more...”

His captor chuckled.

“Here’s the thing about begging, prodtyia.” He used the handle of the cane to poke a irritated welt. “It won’t do you any good, but saints, do I love to hear it!”

Rohan whimpered. Blood trickled down his back and stained his waistband. “C-can’t... No more, p-please, too much, too much...”

 “Shhh, you can do it.” The stranger stepped forward, back to Rohan’s field of vision. He guided Rohan’s head to rest on his shoulder, gently stroking his sweat-dampened curls. “You will be so good for me.”

Rohan sobbed on his captor’s shirt. “P-please, d-don’t kill me...”

“Oh, babe, I won’t go too far.” He said. The taller man tilted Rohan’s head and wiped his tears away with a thumb. “I never killed any of my pets before.”

Rohan raised his head. His mouth fell open in confusion and shock. “N-not, not your your pet.”

The man in charge laughed. “I’ll give you a chance to reconsider.”

He dropped the cane unceremoniously to the floor. Rohan flinched when it landed on the tiles. He could swear he saw a maid flinch, too.

“You really don’t know who I am?” The ettoryan asked, faking his utter disappointment. When Rohan shook his head, he brought a hand to his own heart. “That’s a huge blow to my ego, y’know?

“Please, don’t take it personally.” The stranger said, in a rather mocking voice. “I do this to every pretty thing that catches my eye. You’re only the first one who never heard of me.”

“Y-you’re not...” Rohan asked, averting his kidnapper’s eyes. It came out as a strained whimper. “You, you’re not g-going to kill me?” 

“That would be such a waste, darling.” His mouth twisted in satisfaction, reading the fear in Rohan's face. “My name’s Cassi. My parents run most things in this side of the country, and that includes the roads." He poked at Rohan's chest.

"Trying to get to enemy state through our territory, darling?" Cassi accused. The playful humour in his voice was gone.

"N-no, nnhgh..." Rohan said hoarsely. "Dad's sick, we h-had to..."

"Well, I suppose the cells won't be good for his health."

"No" Rohan tried to move, but his shoulders protested again. "P-please, let him go..."

"Here's what you can do." Cassi took a chair and sat in front of his prisoner. Even towering over him, Rohan felt helpless. "I'll move you to a room closer to my quarters. From now on, you'll be my pet. You’re going to let me take you, in every way that I see fit."

Rohan paled. "You father will receive proper medical attention, as long as you're good for me."

"C-can I see him first?" Rohan swallowed against the pain in his throat. His face burned with humiliation. "I'll do it, if you let me see him first".

Cassi nodded.

"Okay." Rohan replied, finally.

Cassi laughed. He signed, asking the maids to get Rohan out of the restraints.

"Don't worry, prodtyia. You'll learn to love every command I give you."

[miss-choco-chips]

North star

Core disaster week Day 1: Bart’s Birthday// First kiss

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Cassie smiled, sitting down in the picnic blanket. There was so much fucking food- it was awesome.

But not as awesome as being together, all of them. It’d been a while since they managed to meet like this. Kon, particularly, had been hard to pin down and convince to come; but exceptions had to be made on certain days, and Bart’s birthday was the height of special occasions.

Tim, too. She risked a glance at him, stony and silent, and smiled sadly. It truly had been too long.

Sitting each on one end of the blanket, like a flesh and blood compass rose, she smiled again at the unintended philosophy of it all. Bart to the east, bringing the sun into their lives, his energy and warmth a hope for the new day; Kon to the south, lost in memories of the past but a steady, firm ground beneath them; She herself to the west, holding the weight of it all on her shoulders like the sky held the heaviness of sunset; And Tim, sweet, depedable Tim, was undoubtedly their north.

“Cassie? Wonder-honey-baby-dearest girl?”

Snapping out of her reverie, Cassie waved Bart’s concerned face off.

“Don’t worry, just lost in thought. C’mon dude, it’s your day, we can’t start eating until you do!”

A little unsure, Bart sits back on his spot, glancing to his right at Tim. He hesitated a bit, something extremely unusual for a speedster presented with a widely varied menu (Kon and her had flown all over the world picking and choosing his favorites from every possible country- there was a lot).

“He doesn’t mind”, interrupts Kon softly, before anything else can be said.

Taking his word as the gospel it is, Bart’s face broke into the biggest smile and cleaned up his first plate of ‘a little bit of everything’ in less than a blink, already reaching out for more. Without even pausing his chewing, he started babbling out at Tim, who for once didn’t reprimand him on his table manners, nor tried to use a napkin to clean his chocolate-stained cheek. Cassie tried very hard to hide the pang that surprise-attacked her heart.

Desperate for a distraction, she turned to her right, to Conner. He was looking at the other two fondly, a small smile breaking through his face of steel like it was butter.

She remembered back when they were younger, just children, before all the tragedies and the losses; he had smiled easier, then. Wider, unprompted, freely. Giving that handsome smirk like it was candy on halloween.

“It was a good idea to come here”, he acknowledged, once again making her snap out of her head.

“One day, you’ll just accept that all my ideas are good.”

“Do I need to remind you about the deal with the beet demon?”

“That wasn’t that bad.”

“Cassie. We had to eat borsch for every meal. For a month. I don’t think Bart ever forgave you about that.”

They both waited for a second to see if the speedster was about to interject, but he seemed to have missed their conversation, regaling Tim with a tale of his latest training session with Wally.

“Anyway”, Kon coughed, drawing her back to their moment, “it really was. I… I know I wasn’t the easiest person to convince, so..”

“‘The easiest person’? I had to track you down across an entire hemisphere, lasso you like a wild animal and drag you here kicking and screaming. Literally. My bruises have bruises.”

“Anyway, thanks. I… needed to see you all again. I never thought we’d be able to just… sit here and enjoy ourselves, without… you know, all the…”

“Angst?”

“... yeah. How did you even manage to secure us this spot?”

Cassie smiled, leaning back against her arms, enjoying the sun on her face.

“You can thank Tim’s brother for that. I made him promise to make sure no one interrupted us today.”

The other meta snorted.

“It’d be a cold day in hell before I thank Nightwing for anything.”

She winced a bit, but refused to let the implications ruin her good mood. “Come on, you know he’s not my favorite person in the world, but he’s really doing his best to be here for” -a quick glance, Bart still talking his heart out to Tim- “the new Robin. If you can bury the battle axe...he’s not so bad, nowadays.”

Unsure, he shrugged.

“I don’t really care if he discovers the cure to cancer and spends the rest of his life in seclusion as a monk. If I see him on fire and I have a big water bottle, I might help him put it out- after taking a few drinks, first. But that’s as far as I’d be willing to go for him.”

Considering the numerous times Kon had tried to outright attack the older vigilante, Cassie was going to take it.

“How's Jon?” she asked, subject change as unsubtle as a kick to the chest, taking a delicious french pastry between thumb and forefinger and examining it.

He copied her, selecting something brown and salty-looking from the assorted items

“Nothing new. He’s still a better mentor than Supes, though his choice in friends leaves much to be desired. Still, like I told you, I’m… better? I think?”

A pause, as he washed down whatever he ate with a raspberry slushie. Bart’s incessant chatter, once annoying, was now a beautiful background noise. He was just so damn happy, Cassie felt more accomplished even than the time Diana first told her ‘good job’ after a spar. All he’d asked her for his birthday, soft and broken among his tears, had been this; just the four of them, together.

And she’d done her best to make it happen, securing this place and guilting Kon into accepting. She’d done it, and the memory of Bart’s genuine laugh as he told Tim about his last caught villain would -hopefully- be enough to deter the nightmares sure to come with sunfall.

“Anyway, he’s good. What about Donna?”

Cassie let her head fall back between her shoulder blades with a groan, closing her eyes against the glaring midday sun.

“Ugh, don’t remind me. I love her to pieces, but honestly? I can see why my mom has so many grey hairs. Diana is lucky she’s perpetually young and perfect and thus doesn’t need to deal with stress lines. If this is what I was like when she trained me, I have a lot to apologize for. Starting, but not limited to, our days in Young Justice. We did so many stupid things back then.”

“So, the Titans are a riot?”

“They are a bad influence, and I hate how they taught Donna to disobey when I tell her to go to safety and let me do the fighting, but honestly, it’s so much like looking at our past, I can’t help but want to wrap them up in a blanket and wish them luck.”

“I wish you luck. This is why I refuse to take a younger hero under my wing. Too much responsibility.”

“You are a weak bitch. Even Bart is mentoring someone. We have to nourish the younger generation, Kon. Think of the children.”

“You are nineteen, stop talking like you just turned seventy.”

“Well, Cissie is retired. It’s not such a stretch.”

“I’ll tell her you said she’s old.”

“Don’t you dare.”

After those first few hiccups, the rest of the afternoon went smoothly. Uncharacteristically restrained of them, no food fight ensued, but even so it was a pretty fun day. They caught up with each other, teased about past exes and questionable fashion choices, and every silent, solemn moment was endured with joined hands and hearts, a united front against the grief.

Bart’s wet eyes shone, filled with gratitude, when he blew the candles. Cassie caught the exact moment on camera, having learnt the value of getting those precious seconds immortalized forever somewhere other than her own mind.

He kept his wish to himself, but it wasn’t really a mystery. Just by the way he glanced at Tim, they could harnett a pretty solid guess.

Heartache was a familiar, almost comforting feeling to her now, but the wave of raw emotion that almost washed her away at Kon’s crystalized eyes and Bart’s trembling hands gave her pause. Cassie looked away from them for just a second, giving herself this moment of weakness, and in the fleeting light of sunset, she could have sworn she saw a familiar face, looking over them from the shadow of a tree, smiling fondly.

But it was missing with her next blink, so she just shook her head to dispel any traces of wistfulness and turned back to her boys.

It was in silence that they picked up their stuff. Super speed would have made it a chore of just a millisecond, but none felt the urge to run away, so they took their time, hands brushing and then clutching while they cleaned up this sacred place they had borrowed for the day.

Cassie really needed to thank Damian for coming through for her on this. As much as she had despised the other vigilante in the past, a leftover feeling from Tim’s own feud with his older brother, she had learned to forgive and forget. It was, she’d come to accept, the only way she could move on.

Basket finally full with the blanket, empty plates and chocolate stained napkins (Kon’s hand had trembled as he cleaned Bart’s cheek in their leader’s stead), they stood together, arms around each other with the birthday boy in the middle. One by one, they said their goodbyes. It hurted a little less than the last time they could manage to do this, perhaps helped by the fact Kon hadn’t stormed off midway this time.

Cassie smiled. It was sad, it was raw, it was heavy. But it wasn’t broken. She-they- weren’t broken. A puzzle with a missing piece was incomplete, not shattered.

The hand not around Bart’s shoulders stretched, as Cassie’s finger traced the poem they had Bruce engrave in Tim’s tombstone.

“He was my North, my South, my East and West,

My working week and my Sunday rest,

My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;

I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,

Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;

Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;

For nothing now can ever come to any good.”

The kids that had chosen that poem as immortalization of their grief had been drowning in it, she knew. Had needed a way to let the world know “we are not okay, we’ll never be okay again”. It was, maybe, what saved them back then.

But she wished she could crouch down in front of those lost, overwhelmed kids and tell them ‘you never stop missing him, but you learn to be happy again; and he brings you all together, just like the first time’.

So Cassandra Sandsmark, former Wonder Girl (now something more), lets her head fall back, looks at the setting sun and smiles. Because she can. Because she’s alive, and she’s gonna fucking smile for him, if its the last thing that she does.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The shadows of the coming night hide him, embrace him, want to keep him; he puts a stop to that, let’s himself be kept from wandering eyes but avoids the eternal retaking. He’s seen that side of the road and is under no hurry to visit it again.

Instead, he watches the young heroes, bathed in light and laughter, sitting around a dead bird’s grave.

He yearns. He wants, more than anything, to go to them. To join them in the warmth, in happiness. To go back to the only home that never felt anything else than welcoming.

But he has work to do; there’s a new Robin in the streets, and he needs to ensure that what happened to him doesn’t happen to this frail, rough around the edges and full of life bird.

He waits until they pick up and leave, before donning his suit and walking in the opposite direction. Hopefully, a time will soon come when he can smile with them again.

But, for now, the Red Hood has a clown to hunt and a criminal underbelly to conquer.

[thran-duils]

You’re Now Mine (Chap 13)

Title:: You’re Now Mine (Part 13) Summary: I’ve decided to continue the drabble request into a series.

“FULFILLING A REQUEST FOR @lets-personofinterestontumbir! – “COULD YOU DO A DRABBLE FOR THE PERSEPHONE AU I DON’T KNOW IF YOU’VE SEEN ONCE UPON A TIME BUT THE EPISODE 1X07 REMINDED ME A LOT OF THIS STORY WHEN THE EVIL QUEEN RIPPED OUT THE HUNTSMEN’S HEART IF YOU COULD DO SOMETHING LIKE THAT IT WOULD BE AWESOME. THANK YOU.” “ Words: 2,087 Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Dark AF, Emotional/Mental abuse, smut. FOR THIS CHAP: Major character death, angst

Chapter 12 || Chap 14 || Masterpost || Persephone series || Fanfic masterpost

Placing your silverware down, you stated, “Lucifer, I don’t know if that is smart.”

“If what is?”

“Facing Am… your aunt.”

Raising his eyebrows, Lucifer inquired, “And pray tell me why not?”

“She… she’s powerful.”

Lucifer cocked his head, giving you an indignant look. “And what do you think I am?”

Swallowing, you tried to figure out the best way to phrase it. “Didn’t you have help last time? You might get hurt.”

Sighing annoyed, Lucifer said, “That is exactly what the Hand of God is for, princess.”

“But –”

“Now, don’t you go worrying your pretty little head about me,” Lucifer spoke over your protest. “I’ve got some tricks up my sleeve… such as more than one Hand of God to wield at a time.” You gave him a confused look and he smirked, “Please don’t tell me you think your inept friends could possibly the only ones to locate one.”

You wondered where he had found one and what it was. You knew better than to directly ask this and instead asked, “So… you’re just going to take theirs too?”

“Take? Absolutely. As you know the Winchesters as stubborn as they are, I am going to need to pry that thing from their dead, cold hands. They won’t give it up willingly.” The color drained from your face and he chided, “Princess, I just told you I was going to kill them. Keep up will you?”

Your mind raced, thinking of all the awful things he would do to them.

“Let me go with.”

Lucifer scoffed, shaking his head. “You must be joking.”

“No. Please. Let me go with,” you pleaded. “I can convince them to give it over willingly. So you don’t have to kill them.”

He chuckled darkly, “Oh, so you want to go with to protect them?” He leaned in and you held his stare. “What makes you think even if they give it willingly, I won’t kill them anyway?”

Mouth dry, you started, “Well… I figure if you are able to take it without trouble, there is no need—”

“No need? I still have a score to settle with them. Or have you forgotten?”

“Would that not settle the score?” you tried.

“No.”

“But, why would you kill them when you could count on them to keep the monsters in line? Monsters deaths surely have an influence on what is going on with Purgatory, no? You are working with Heaven now and you have hell under your control. Another realm seems like a lot to put on your plate. Them killing and keeping the numbers down keeps the monsters in hiding and on the run from hunters so they won’t ever be an issue for you.”

Lucifer chided, “You are grasping at straws, Princess. I don’t care about Purgatory or their monsters. They’ve always stuck to themselves.”

“Except Eve. Or the Leviathan.”

“Well, that was the Winchesters and Cassie’s fault. And trust me, that still eats away at him. Seems keeping them around causes those mishaps which makes things like Purgatory which normally aren’t a problem become a problem.”

Trying again, you said, “But what if God shows up. He’s obviously got something planned for the boys. Won’t you at least humor me?”

“If my dad cared, he would have showed up by now. And considering I just let you out of time out after you were so inconsiderately rude…”

“I know. I’m sorry,” you said desperately. “But please. The bigger picture here. Think about why your father made them in the first place. They could be an asset depending on what he wants from them. He has to show up some time.”

Lucifer was silent, his eyes boring into you. The seconds crawled, you waiting for his answer.

Slowly a smirk tugged at his lips and you did not like the cruel gleam in his eye. “You know, you may turn out to be helpful. I don’t think they are going to do this without tricks. It would disappoint me honestly if they didn’t go out without a fight.” His eyes flicked down to your plate. “Are you finished? Dean is praying again.”

Swallowing sharply, you nodded.

Leaning in, he ordered you, “Stay right by my side, be my little peach, and when this is done, we can go topside. Get some fresh air.”

Traveling with an angel never got easy, the tightness in your chest and feeling like your essence was being squeezed taut. You gasped loudly when you landed, trying to draw breath back into your lungs. Lucifer’s arm was tight around your waist, his touch grounding you. Your fingers dug into his chest, trying to relax against him.

It took a few seconds for you to recognize the heat around you. Your eyes moved to the flames licking around your legs.

“Shit.” Dean’s voice drew your attention.

Lucifer tutted, his hand holding you at the small of your back. “Hmm. Remember what I told you, princess. It seems staying close is your best option.” To Dean, Sam and Crowley, he stated, “I’m sorry. Your prayer implied I would be joining the team, but I’m just not feeling the warm and fuzzy here.” To you, he asked, “Do you feel welcomed?”

You shook your head and he smirked.

Sam and Dean looked between each other, worried.

“Oh… wow. There it is.” You followed Lucifer’s gaze and saw a horn partially covered by a cloth near Crowley. That must be the Hand of God the boys had found. “Powered up by dad himself. That bad boy plus me, that oughta take her out alright.” He beamed down at you, giving you a little shake. “Let’s get to it, right?”

To the boys, he gestured down at the holy fire. “Douse the flames.”

The boys did not budge, and you furrowed your brow. The more they refused to speak and move made you all the more antsy about what kind of trap they had thought they were setting for Lucifer. He was right, you knew they would not give it up without a fight.

You felt Lucifer tense and your heart race began to pick up. He could not harm them from in here but that did not stop you from worrying.

“Or don’t…?” he said slowly, his fingers digging into your back ever so.

Sam and Dean exchanged another look, swallowing sharply. Sam shook his head at Dean ever so slightly. Dean’s gaze was back on you, calculating.

“Dean,” Sam warned from behind him.

Lucifer cocked his head, “What’s the hold up, fellas?” He took notice of the pew beside Dean, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. Dean saw him and moved to try to block it, but it was too late. “Looks like there’s something slightly drawn there, Dean-o. You mind sharing with the class?” Dean refused to speak, and Lucifer surmised, “Something you had planned to, I don’t know, hurt me with?” He chortled, his free hand coming up to touch your jawline lightly. “I don’t think you were expecting her though. Threw a little wrench in your plan, didn’t it? Hmm, bringing you along did prove extremely helpful, even if it was not in the way we thought it was going to be. My perfect little helper.”

His eyes flashed back to Dean, amusement gone instantaneously. He growled, “I am done with these games, boys. Hand over the weapon. Whaddaya say? Or we can wait for the warding to fail and I’ll take it.”

The silence in the room was deafening as Dean and Lucifer stared each other down. Lucifer’s grip laxed and you looked at him curiously. “I know I said stay right by my side, but would you give me a step back, princess?”

You did as he asked, nervousness clawing away at your insides, unsure of what he was planning.

“Bloody hell,” Crowley said defeated before his essence was sucked out of him, traveling right into Lucifer. You leaned back frightened watching it disappear into his mouth before his head slumped forward and he was silent.

Stepping closer again, you touched his arm, staring at his face. “Lucifer?” you whispered.

“Y/N. Step back,” Sam said moving closer to the fire.

“And go where?” you snapped at him and he recoiled at your tone. Sighing angrily, you said, “He brought me to help convince you two to give it to him willingly. Do you not think that would have been the smarter course of action?”

“We were trying to get Cas to kick him out so we could put him back in the cage!” Dean told you firmly.

“Well, that went swimmingly,” you responded irritated. “Good job.”

Dean looked offended and Sam said, “We had to try, Y/N.”

Shaking his head in annoyance, Dean turned away from you, looking back at Crowley. He walked closer to the bench Crowley had fallen back onto.

Rowena appeared from the hall near the back of the room and exclaimed, “Exorcise him, will you? Get my son out of that vessel and back into his own! Can’t you people ever do anything right?”

Ignoring the insult, Dean and Sam set to work to exorcise Crowley from Castiel’s vessel. Sam began reciting the exorcism spell, Castiel’s body beginning to jerk in response. Dean threw the holy water at him over the fire; the water sizzled, causing Castiel’s body to flinch on top of the jerking. Your stomach twisted, seeing an exorcism being performed on him. His body was seizing.

It worked though, relatively quickly. Crowley was thrown back into his own body and he told you guys that Lucifer’s hold on Castiel was too strong to break through. Your dismay was cut short by Rowena furiously pointing out that the flames were dying down and she disappeared, leaving the group of you.

Typical, you thought to yourself.

“Ah, my patience is so thin, you cannot even imagine,” Lucifer sneered, straightening back up again. He noticed the flames were gone and threw a glance at you. There was a glint in his eye, as if he was daring you to run now that you were able to. You stayed put nervously.

His attention back on the boys, he said, “You know, I could have been your warrior.”

Sam acted quickly, spinning to run back towards the horn but it flew off the bench past him right into Lucifer’s awaiting hand.

“Well,” Crowley murmured before disappearing.

Like mother like son.

“It’s just like Crowley to leave right when the party is getting started,” Lucifer commented. He gestured at Sam and Dean, “Have a seat.” They were both thrown back onto the benches behind them, stuck fast. Fear creeped as Lucifer stalked towards them, a predator playing with his prey.

“As much as I get a giggle out of you two – and I do,” Lucifer said with a scornful tone. “There comes a time when every relationship has run its course. So…”

Time slowed as you watched him raise his hand and clench his fist, dread slamming into you, the breath frozen in your lungs.

Immediately, Sam and Dean grunted loudly, looking to be in excruciating pain. The veins in their necks strained against skin, their teeth grinding against the torment Lucifer was inflicting upon them.

“No!” you exclaimed loudly, forcing yourself to rush to Lucifer’s side terrified. “You said you wouldn’t!”

“I never said anything of the sort,” Lucifer replied dryly, his eyes burning into the boys. He cranked his fist and they shouted in agony, their shouts reverberating up your spine.

You reached up trying to pull his arm down to no avail. He was too strong. “Lucifer! Please!”

He refused to look at you, turning his fist sharply again and their grunts turned to weak gasps. The life began leaving their bodies. You watched horrified as they slumped slowly, eyes fluttering. Sam made eye contact with you, despair in his eyes. Your chest heaved as a sob escaped watching their chins dip to their chests, them not moving anymore.

Lucifer sighed, straightening up, his arm coming back down to his side, your own hands still holding on limply.

“Well,” he drawled, “That was satisfactory.”

Frozen to the spot, tears ran down your face looking at your friends. He had killed them.

Suddenly Lucifer grabbed your arm, anxiousness in his tone, “We need to go. Now.”

You barely felt him tug you to him, your eyes not leaving Dean and Sam before the world went dark as Lucifer propelled the two of you with a strong burst of his wings.

~~~

CASTIEL FOREVER TAGS: @splendidcas, @klaineaholic, @letsthedogpackandthecats, @alexastacio, @winchesterforever12 @seirensou @tacos-and-trenchcoats @the-amaranthine @marisayouass @afanofmanystuffs @greenappleeyes @misscherryberry-blog @too-lazy-for-this-world @musicalraven07 @xxslytherinprincessxx @thebookisbtr @wayward-hell @silverbulletsandredsigils @perseusandmedusa @aditimukul @xxmizzlexx @icarus-fell-in-spring @kristendanwayne @morbid-apricots @mishapanicmeow @roonyxx @willowing-love @mishascupcake @earthtokace @shikaros-blog @jenabean75 @the-girl-with-metal-wings @daddys-gamer-kitten

[the-avengers-ate-my-tongue]

Speachless (part 1)

Summary: after a few days out visiting your mom in other state, Alana calls you to tell you Will was arrested for the murder of Abigail Hobbs and the victims of the copycat killer. You and Will are currently involved, and you know he’d never do something like that but, with consistent evidences and all fingers pointed to him, how would you prove the man you love is innocent? 

Pairing: Will Graham x reader

Warnings: swearing, a little angst

Word count: 2843 

A/N: Hannibal again! Haha, I’m still obsessed and managed to introduce a friend to the show, soon I’ll start a cult (just kidding. Or am I?). One of the things that bothered me and my friend the most at the end of season one was how everyone just turned their backs to Will so quickly. I understand, they’re FBI, there were evidences, but I don’t know, maybe it’s my favoritism for the character talking. My friend also said that she found unnerving how he’s treated like a machine, a tool, especially by Jack Crawford. That stuck in my mind for days, and I decided to write something at the end of season one to let my mind flow my frustration. Hope you guys enjoy it! Probably there will be a second part of this, I still have a few scenes in my mind and this was supposed to be a oneshot. Let’s see how it goes.

XXX

“What do you mean he was arrested?” My voice trembled while I drove as fast as I could back to Virginia. “Alana, you have to tell me what's going on. Will doesn't need to be arrested, he needs…”

“Some evidences where found in his house yesterday, Y/N.” Her voice faulted, and I could hear her sadness bursting out and reaching me like a breeze. “We really tried to contact you. The FBI found genetic material of the victims of the copycat. They... They think Will killed all those people”.

For a second, I felt my hands go numb. My eyes were wide, my mouth dry. I had no reaction. I lost my attention on the road, only to regain it by almost hitting a huge truck. 

I yelled in anticipation, turning as much as I could. The car drove off the road, skidding on sand and finally stopping a few meters ahead.

“Y/n? What's happening?” Alana's voice sounded urgent and took me out of my daze. “Y/n, are you okay?”

“This is ridiculous!” I snapped, and Alana sighed with relief. “Will did not kill them! He wasn't even sick when Cassie Boyle or Marissa Schuur was murdered.”

“The evidences were substantial. And after Abigail, after today, there's nothing we can do for him... At least not anymore” Alana admitted with moderated grief. I felt my mouth dry at the same time I could feel my own sweat soak the wheel under my hands. I could also feel my nails digging so hard the pain woke me up.

“Fucking Jack Crawford” I tried not to sound so revolted, but I couldn't help it. “Damn FBI. We warned him. We saw Will lose his sanity over and over and we didn't do shit. We saw he was breaking. Goddammit... We failed him.”

“I know you two were...” She hesitated, looking for words to put it lightly. “Involved. He escaped custody while he was being taken to Baltimore State Hospital this afternoon. Just promise me you won't do anything stupid and will call Jack or me if he tries to reach you.”

I opened and closed my mouth a few times, uncertain of what to say.

“Y/n.” Alana tried again in a softer tone. “Will's not himself at the moment. He killed Abigail and maybe four more people. I... I don't want to worry about you too.”

I realized how much wrecked she sounded, and a small and unwanted smile crossed my lips.

“I'm a big girl, Lana. You don't have to worry about me, you know?” I tried to laugh it off, but it just came out as a cry.

“Jack wants to see you. You might need to give a statement.” She replied. “We tried to contact you sooner. How's your mom?”

“She’s fine, it was just a warning for her to stop eating junkie food all the time. I can't do this right now, Alana. I can't just chit chat like that and I can't see Jack being this affected. I need to clear up my head. I'll go home, have a shower and...”

My voice just faded as I rubbed my eyes. How was that happening? The last time I talked to Will, he said he was planning to take Abigail Hobbs to Minnesota. That was three days ago. How did so much happen in this short matter of time? 

“What did Hannibal say in all of this? He was supposed to warn Jack if he'd seen Will would break. Where was he in all of this?” I couldn't hide my annoyed tone. Hannibal was an old acquaintance of mine as well as Alana's, and I'm sure he'd find my tone quite insolent if he could hear me right now. 

“He was the first one Will called. He showed me a drawing he made of a clock two weeks ago. It was normal. Whatever it is, it's something that comes and goes and gives him episodes of instability.”  

“Couldn't it be some sort of encephalitis?” I asked after a few seconds of silence, trying to see the evidences. “He had a lot of fever, especially by night time. It got worse after a while. Sometimes he'd like... Vanish mentally to somewhere I couldn't reach. I'd talk to him, but he wasn't really there, you know? In his own mind.”

“I thought about encephalitis, too. He escaped custody before we could run some tests. That's also why we need to find him as soon as possible. It's a dangerous condition, he needs treatment.”

“You're absolutely right. Of course, I'll... See what I can do.” I hated the way my voice sounded so unsure, and I knew Alana would notice it.

She sighed.

“Are you sure you're okay to drive? If you text me your location, I can pick you up.”

“I'm fine. Just half an hour and I'll be home safe and sound.” I said in a melancholic tone. “I'll call Jack later and see what I can do to help.”

She probably was relieved to see some sign of cooperation, even if I didn't really mean it. I hung up and, before I could even realize, drove to Will's place even knowing he wouldn't be there. Of course he wouldn't. I just needed to be sure.

A few minutes later, I parked outside, getting out of the car with my legs like jelly. Not even the dogs were there. That broke my heart even more, as if they extinguished all of Will's essence of the place. I went back to the car with my heart heavy, heading straight home. A shower would do me some good.

By the moment I turned the key on the keyhole I felt the atmosphere changing. Like electric sparks in the air that made all possible hair in my body stand up. I could barely assimilate the hand gripping my pulse and pulling me inside, another firm hand shutting my mouth.

I tried to gasp for air so I could scream but, as I realized the smell that came inside my lungs, my whole body relaxed and I felt relieved.

Will. He was there.

He smelled like pine trees, wet dirt, aftershave and sometimes fish. And dogs, always dogs. A smell that was far from bad and reminded me of him. My eyes were filled with tears as I saw his state. He was pale, sweating and wearing an orange uniform. His breathing was accelerated, he was trembling.

I took his hand off my mouth and pulled him close, throwing myself into his arms. I hid my face in his neck, taking a deep breath. His smell, his essence was still there indeed. I closed my eyes as I felt my tears wet my face, and he hid his face in my hair, grabbing myself in a hug so tight I could feel my bones cracking. I stood away only to see his face. He had this feverish complexion that only made me more worried as I recalled of Alana's words.

“Talk to me, Will. What's happening?” I practically begged, pulling him to the sofa. “God, you're burning up, Will. You have to see a doctor.”

“Y/n, you have to hear me now. Someone is framing me.” He started while refused to sit, his eyes a little wide. “Someone is trying to make it look like I committed the crimes of the copycat. We find him, we find the copycat. It's someone who's close, who knew the case and the evidences, someone in the bureau. Someone we know.”

I felt the shivers go around my body like an electric shock, taking a few steps behind as I covered my mouth with one hand. He sounded very sure, and I couldn't help remember the confusion that stroke his mind in the past few weeks. My mind worked fast and I evaluated all the information I had so far on the cases, trying to make connections. I could see Will was agitated but he allowed me to take my time, and his confidence on me gave me more strength. Even if you could separate the fact that Will was unstable from evidences and informations I had, for me there was still a gap. Missing data. 

So I decided to trust him. Trust the man I knew he was, the man I cared deeply about. The selfless, kind man I could see under his armor. Took me a long time to break through the thick layer, and I wouldn't turn my back on him now. He was not the "catching bad guys machine", and I felt like I was the only one that could see it at the moment. There must be an explanation.

“Someone that had easy access to your house, knew your routine, knew exactly what was happening to you...” I felt my heart pumping through my chest like a hummingbird. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that it was someone close. Probably someone I knew, someone wearing a social mask I couldn't see beyond it. I started searching for clues in my own mind, but i suspected any single little thing would seem suspicious if I didn't get more information. I looked to Will one more time, and saw a little pity in his eyes. No one wanted to find out that someone they know, probably someone close could commit those horrible crimes.

I sighed, scanning his face. In spite of the fever, he seemed more conscious that I'd seen him in the past few days. His eyes were darker, more vivid, glowing almost sickeningly. His hair was a mess, all over his face and gluing on his forehead because of the sweat. He was sharp. I could see it.

“You know who it is, don't you?” I licked my lips, biting my bottom one nervously. He followed my tongue with his eyes, and they seemed to grow even darker. 

“I might.”

“Tell me.”

“The less you know the better. If I'm right... I... I don't wanna be right.” He closed his eyes for a few seconds, probably choosing the right words. “It's serious, Y/n. You don't want me to be right, trust me.”

“I do. And I want you to trust me.” I pulled his hair out of his forehead, caressing his defined jawline.

He held my wrists abruptly, pulling my hands down. I didn't even blink, and he smiled lightly. He'd never scare me. I knew the man standing in front of me. I knew he'd never hurt me.

“You don't think I've murdered all those people.”

“Of course I don't. That was never in question.” I replied in a petulant tone. Will opened his mouth to speak, then closed it without making a sound.

“You seem to be the first.” He said, trying to hide the disappointment in his voice and eyes and avoiding to look at me. That broke my heart in a way that almost made me feel sick.

My eyes filled with tears and I tried to smile, probably grimacing.

“Maybe I know you too well. Beyond you boundaries and everything else. Did you ever consider that?” I asked in a playful tone. He didn't smile or laugh, though. He just came closer, touching my lips with his in a sweet, caring kiss. They felt hot and a little bit dry, probably due the fever. I could feel all the gratitude in his kiss, the way his hands held my face with tenderness. 

He broke the kiss only to keep his forehead on mine, his eyes still closed. My hands caressed the sides of his face as I tried to stop the tears from falling.

“Will. Listen to me. I know you want to catch who's doing this to you, and I think it's only reasonable. But escaping custody will only make you look more guilty, and that's the least you need at the moment. You need treatment.” I tried to sound sensible, but I knew he didn't need to listen to that. He knew I was right, of course, that was obvious.

“You're right. And I will turn myself in. I just have one last stop.” He seemed so certain I knew I wouldn't convince him otherwise. 

“Then promise me something, Will Graham.” I held him by his orange uniform with a pleading look. "Promise me you won't do anything reckless. Promise me you won't get hurt".

He didn't reply, taking a deep breath, his face getting sweeter.

“I have no idea what I've done to deserve someone like you.” He said, kissing me again. I held him by his neck as he touched my waist, pulling me closer, his agile fingers marking my skin. The kiss started to get deeper and deeper as I could feel a certain agitation below my abdomen.

“Well...” I pulled away, trying to regain my breath. “Let's get you out of this clothes.”

He was breathing hard, taking a moment to absorb my words. His eyes were darker than ever.

“Y/n...” He started with an uncertain tone, making me laugh a little.

“Well, you can't move around the city in this orange uniform, can you?” I explained in a false innocent tone. “What did you think I meant? You left some clothes here.”

He lowered his eyes, turning slightly red. But the cynic smile was still in his lips.

I climbed the stairs and he followed me. We entered my room and I went straight to the closet, searching for a few clothes I knew he'd left there. As he changed, I took the orange uniform and hid it in a large shoebox I had, putting it behind other boxes.

“There you go. All packed” I said, trying to hide how nervous I was lowering my eyes and staring at my shoes as if they were very interesting. He noticed, of course.

“Y/n…” He started.

“Stay.” I hated the way my voice cracked, that made me feel so weak. I was a very emotional person, while Will was more rational. Nevertheless, I knew he had his moments, I’d seen it.

He sighed, coming to me and lifting my chin with his index while caressed me with his thumb. I closed my eyes, rubbing my face in his hand like a kitten and cursing myself mentally for the tears that stained my cheeks. I felt so desperate. That was serious, he was being framed for someone else’s crimes, someone dangerous that all of us knew. And I had no idea how to prove it, just my blind belief that wasn’t useful for nobody but us. I was facing it; maybe, the following days, even months, would be seeing Will mostly behind bars.

“You know I can’t.” He said in a condescended tone, his deep blue eyes studying my face. “I wasn’t even supposed to be here. It was reckless. I’m sure Jack has eyes for me everywhere, including here. I’m already running out of time. And if he knows about us, then I shouldn’t have even come here in the first place.”

“I know. I’m just being silly.” I agreed, wiping my tears away with a little smile. “And Will, honestly, I think everyone knows about us by now. We weren’t exactly good at hiding it.”

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Alana was the first to find out, you know?” I told him as I avoided staring at his face, feeling my cheeks burn a little. “She noticed how I looked at you. She says I look like a fool. A beautiful little fool. I asked her not to tell a soul about it, but I’m terrible on hiding my feelings, as you may know. Especially… Especially when it comes to you.”

He listened to my words in silence, his hand still caressing my chin. I noticed how wet they were, he was sweating. I tried to imagine those hands committing violent murder, carving a macabre smile on Sutcliffe’s face, putting Cassie Boyle on the top of those stag antlers. That felt… Wrong. Inadequate. Maybe it was my feelings talking, but I just couldn’t see it.

“So, probably the whole bureau knows by now.” I continued, stepping away and breaking any physical contact. It would be easier to let him go, and he knew it, he saw it in my eyes. I held my body as a form of solace, staring at the floor. “You should go, Will. You’re right. This is dangerous, my house may be under surveillance right now as we speak. Just… Promise me you’ll take care of yourself.”

He hesitated, opening his mouth to answer at the same moment my phone rang. I startled with the high-pitched sound, taking the goddamn thing out of my pocket and checking the name on the screen. Jack.

I turned my back on him, picking up the phone.

“Jack. Yes. I’m here.” I tried to fight back the tears, sounding convincing enough. I didn’t even had to turn to know Will was gone. His smell slowly began to fade, and in a few seconds, I felt completely alone.

Part two

[elfnerdherder]

Opus Dei: Chapter 2

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Chapter 2: Clash Center Stage

“I’ve missed our talks.”

Will stared at the ceiling, legs crossed and arms tucked behind his head with a false impression of comfort and ease. He was not comfortable. He was not at ease. Just on the other side of the bars, the devil sat in a chair, too close for orderlies’ comfort and much too close for his comfort. He didn’t voice that, though. Jared sat on the smallest space at the end of the bed, and he swung his legs.

“In truth, every day at four-thirty I open the door to my home expectantly, or I find myself pacing. Dr. Du Maurier tells me that I know precisely where you are, but I seem to be in a position where I refuse to make that my reality.”

There was a leak in one of the pipes at the end of the dreary hall, and it dripped in the silence, a steady beat that timed itself to Will’s heart. He didn’t give any form of acknowledgement, save for the breath he held when he was given the sudden urge to lunge across the cell to see how quickly he could strangle a man.

He dismissed the notion, since the more he lingered on murderous thoughts, the more substantial Garrett Jacob Hobbs seemed to be.

“I have the luxury of trying to refute the fact. Your realities were formed against your will, no matter how ardently you struggled to correct them. Now you are here, and this is your reality.” A beat. "You must hate me."

“Don’t say anything,” Jared Freeman cautioned. He must have known better than Will did about how close he was to screaming. Thankfully, the medicine that’d been politely shoved down his throat kept most of the extreme emotions at bay, tempered with a sweet bliss of chemicals that knew just how to shut a man up.

“Are you so convinced of my guilt that you won't speak at all?” He nodded at Will's silence. “I asked Agent Crawford to investigate me, and he found nothing. I thought it could be some small comfort, but..."

“Steady,” Jared coached.

“You said before your trial that the light of friendship would never reach us. I’m sad to see you hold to such convictions, even now. No matter what happened, you were not in your right mind. Surely that is some comfort to you?”

Down the hall, someone let out a horrendous, terrified scream. Will jolted at the noise, at the suddenness and the terror. Sometimes inmates screamed because they’d had a nightmare, and sometimes they did just for fun. Sometimes, though, an orderly decided they’d had enough, and those screams were the worst sort to hear because no matter how much the inmate begged, no matter how much they prostrated themselves and wept, it changed nothing. Will’s heart thudded, and he listened to the cadence of the sound, weighing it in his ear. This was a scream of the last variety. He knew that sooner or later, he’d sound much the same.

“Can you sleep with the noise?" Hannibal wondered, hushed. "What do you dream?"

Will continued to stare at the ceiling, and it wasn’t until Hannibal left that he rolled over to stare at the wall, trembling. Jared moved from the bed to the wall, and he tapped fingers along it, searching for a weakness.

“Good job,” he coached, and he flickered, wavered. Since the hospital, the presence of his dead classmate had shifted from a solid, physical being to one Will conjured on purpose, one that he shaped into his reality rather than accept it as his reality.

If he was going to kill Hannibal one day, he needed as many psychopaths in his head as he could get.

Will was able to be convinced into a smart phone and tablet bundle rather than the simple flip phone in the corner. It wasn’t so much the talents of the salesperson as it was the remnant of a memory, a girl with dark hair and a crooked smile.

Yeah, pretty sure drug dealers use those. They’re called burner phones.

Then, clothes and shoes, but Alana was more invested in that than Will was. It was hard to be in stores, hard to have the four walls pressed in with no view of the sky. What day was it? What time? Between the plaid shirt section and the denim, he couldn't have said. When it was time to leave, he tossed the shoes from the prison in the garbage by the exit.

Bill Graham no longer lived in Wolf Trap, Virginia. He was found closer to the docks, nestled in some questionable apartments on an odd side of town. It suited him better, the sagging walls of a building best described as moist. Will stared up at it for longer than necessary before heading up the steps to the address written on soft paper.

There was a rumpled, washed but left to dry appearance about Bill Graham when he first opened the door. The machine oil smell hadn't faded in four years, but there was also an undertone of Lemon Pledge and soap. He'd been cleaning.

"Will," he greeted. His voice was sand on marble, scratching in his throat. "Come in, come in."

Will glanced at Alana before he gave a reassuring nod.

"I'll be in touch," she said on the stairs, just to the side of him. "Okay?"

"Thanks, Alana."

She glanced to the yawning door suspiciously before she headed back to her car.

The apartment reeked of the same Lysol stench, as well as food delivery. He followed his dad down a hall of smudged walls and crooked, haphazard photos of Will’s early childhood. The Bill Graham in the wake of his son’s alleged murder spree apparently took care of himself, although he managed to attempt at the sentimental.

Winston bounded around a corner when Will reached the front room, and he fell to his knees to catch him, a laugh springing unbidden as the dog tackled him, tail flailing and breath haggard. Will dug his fingers into his fur, and he didn’t mind a single ounce of slobber that got on his face or shirt in all of the excitement.

“He’s missed you something fierce,” Bill said, easing down onto a couch that'd once been loved fiercely by a cat. “Sometimes he gets out and I find him at the old place like he’s waiting for you.”

“Thank you for watching him,” Will said from among the fluff and lolling tongue.

“Weren’t no trouble,” Bill replied, waving a hand. “He’s a good dog.” Will opened his mouth to remind his father that the old Bill Graham had never wanted the dog, but he stopped himself. The space between them was tense, roughened by words thought but never said, felt but never revealed. Will studied his father’s work boots, then turned and went back to scratching Winston’s sides.

“You’re a good dog,” he informed Winston, and Winston all but crawled onto his lap, tail fwapping against the ground.

“They tried at first to take him back to…to his first family, but they didn’t want him. It was their daughter’s dog, and…they just couldn’t bear to keep him.” Will nodded, sliding his fingers along the dark spots of fur on Winston’s coat, admiring them. Although the circumstances of him finding Winston were grim –he could only assume Hannibal had let the dog escape after he’d killed Cassie Boyle –he wasn’t going to complain. In reality, he was happier to see the dog more than his dad.

“So…you’re out now,” Bill said awkwardly.

“It turns out that when I said I didn’t do it, I was right,” Will said archly. The silence between them bubbled, blistered. Will considered popping it with the tip of the knife, but he didn’t feel like drawing the pus out long enough to fix it. He cleared his throat.

“I still got your stuff,” his father said after a beat. “It’s all in the spare room I got, right by the fishing gear.”

“Thank you,” Will said. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Good hell, Will, you’re my son."

Will let the silence speak for itself on that matter.

“I...I know I was a bad father…" Bill said, and his tone showed just how much he'd practiced this small speech. "I left you to your own devices, always gone and always doing something else. I was so distant, you just…you almost died, you were kidnapped, you were visiting murder scenes for Christ’s sake, and I didn’t know anything until after your arrest. You...you didn't come to me with all of this.”

“I didn’t want you to know."

“And a better dad would have been the first you told when something went wrong,” his father replied earnestly. “I thought I could fix your problems the way I’ve always fixed mine, then I just went and made everything worse.”

“I appreciate that," Will said because he didn't know what else he should really say. Fingers wound tight into the fur.

“I’ve been seeing a therapist,” Bill revealed. “Work had it set up after...after Charlie was found, and since this place has insurance benefits, I can afford the co-pay. I got to know a lot about myself that I didn’t like to find out.”

“You’re seeing a therapist?” Will asked, stunned.

“I have what she’s tentatively calling an identity disorder that crops up with bouts of extreme stress," Bill Graham announced, and it was said with the practice of someone that'd had to practice saying it a lot. "Dissociative Fugue or something like it. She said I’ve also got low serotonin, making me a bit of a depressed slop,” he added. He looked down at the floor between them. “So I’ve been working at that. Doing some side jobs to afford the medication. Getting out more.”

“That’s…big,” Will managed. He wrapped his arms around Winston.

“I figured I’d done enough to make your life miserable, the least I could do is look someone else in the eye and admit it.”

“Has it helped at all?” Will questioned, glancing up to his shoulder.

“It’s letting me know the me that I am when other people see, and I’m trying to fix that. I figured, I can get you a job at the boatyard, and you can take that spare bedroom, and you and I can-”

“I want my own place,” Will all but interrupted, using the pauses between Bill’s words to cut in. “I want my own job, too. I'm going to go to school.”

Bill’s face wrinkled and caved at that, but he nodded all the same.

“Then…I’ll work on building our relationship another way,” he said heavily. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a sorry excuse for a father, Will.”

Will nodded, but there was nothing for him to really say. He had a father, but he had him long after he’d realized that he could do more than just survive without one. When he stood up, Bill helped him load his meager belongings into his truck that magically turned over.

“I’ve been taking care of it,” Bill said, patting the hood. “Got a new starter and renewed the tags for you.”

“Thank you,” Will said honestly. They shook hands, Bill's trembling ever so slightly.

“Don’t be a stranger, son,” he pleaded, glancing from him to Winston secured in the passenger seat. “I…don’t want to be a stranger to you anymore.”

“Okay.” Will nodded, climbing into the truck.

Finding a place to stay was easy. The woman practically threw the rent offer on the table at him a couple of weeks after his release, and if she recognized his face she said nothing about it. She paced in her living room and bemoaned the last tenants who'd ruined her house for good, emphasizing the father that almost always paid late. When Will signed the papers, she didn’t seem to notice that he held the same last name.

“Then apparently that son of his went and hacked some bodies up, and now--" Too late she realized that a lease done could be undone. She glanced at the paperwork between them, then busied herself with drowning his coffee in creamer. "Now you're going to get settled in nicely, I'd say."

“If you hate it so much, maybe in the future I can look into buying it off of you,” he said, sipping on the creamer with a dash of coffee.

When he pulled into the dirt driveway, he sat in the truck with Winston for a bit, drumming his fingers on the wheel. He’d thought –stupidly –that time had the potential to wash away the taste of pennies in his mouth when he looked at the very place where his world fell apart. Time can't wash away associations, though, and the longer he looked, the easier it was to find each place where he'd stood and had his world loosened out from under him.

There was once a time when he thought it’d begun cracking at the edges when Jared Freeman first pulled a gun from his jacket cavalierly to kill their teacher, but that wasn’t the beginning of any sort of end. No, no, now Will could say that the beginning cracks were when a soft, accented voice first pulled him from his daydreams of being the one to pull the trigger. The beginning was when Hannibal had cornered him in the hall and assured him that no matter the turn of mind, Will would one day find him interesting.

How woeful for Hannibal that Will now found him to be quite interesting indeed.

He walked where he once walked, pressed his heels to the dirt where he recalled fainting under the fever of his mind drowning in a blaze of fire. He looked out to the field, staring at the space where he’d found Nicholas Boyle with his insides out, where Hannibal had once grabbed him and pressed hungry, searching lips to Will's. No, no, he’d said, you certainly killed him.

“In this moment, you are at your most beautiful.”

Winston's whine kept him from brooding. He unlocked the door for them both and walked in, making sure to take his time moving about a house that hadn't changed much since he left it last. Thankfully the landlady had cleaned since the investigation.

Unpacking next to nothing was easy, and Will slept on the bed in the living room. He couldn’t quite bring himself to go into the room he’d once slept in. Too many memories of too many people housed their horrors within those walls, and he slept with his back to the hall. In the dead of the night, he imagined hands reaching, stretching beneath the doorway to claim him.

-

Will woke early, and his neck prickled. He couldn't say why he felt the need to tense, but he did, and it was almost like being right back in the cell once again with the light's out; the inmates sometimes screamed in the dark, and it felt like nails were carving curses into your scalp. He blinked, and he stared at the threat of sunrise cutting through the faded, blue curtain.

It wasn't until he actually got up and went to make breakfast a couple of hours later that the feeling returned, a cold dash of adrenaline to the gut, and Jared circled the table, tucking his chin into his palm. "Well, now."

A letter lay in the center of the scuffed and beaten table, the same table he'd once eaten his fair share of Hungry Man meals at years before. His name was written with floral elegance, time and attention to the curves of the letters that only a fountain pen could make. It was warm, having acclimated to the inside of the house; it'd been there awhile now.

He picked it up and pried apart the wax seal on the back, anxiety and excitement coiling about his feet. Be careful, he'd told Alana, as though he hadn't made his fortress from the bones of a warzone. Be careful because the Chesapeake Ripper likes to play games, and it seemed that he was ready to begin.

Welcome home.

-C.R.

-

Will had lied before--many times, but this was one time in particular that mattered.

He hesitated only briefly, standing outside of the door in the backyard of someone else's house a little less than a day later. Tricky hands picked locks, and he did so with the skill of someone not long-practiced, but one that had spent a long time talking to someone long-practiced. Hands mimicked where they supposed they'd once been told to go.

“Naughty,” said Jared beside him, taunting. “You’re being naughty.”

It was imagination now, but once it hadn’t been. Once, he’d thought Jared very, very real. He couldn’t quite put a finger on why he often still imagined him, but he didn’t fight it anymore. In a way, keeping him within the walls of his mind kept him alive towards the end. In a way, some part of him knew that keeping him around upped his survival rate considerably.

Garrett Jacob Hobbs also lurked, but his special brand of psychosis wasn't quite the everyday sort. He only came out when it was necessary, otherwise; Will kept him buried.

He stepped into the house, cool in the early Spring air that still nipped at night and threatened frost. Behind him, Jared wiped his feet, and Will closed the door carefully, quietly.

“You’re going to do this,” Jared murmured, and it’s unclear if it’s an order or a realization.

Will left him in the kitchen and crept farther into the house, drawing the gun that’d sat holstered at the small of his back. It fit in his palm, and there hadn’t been a single hesitation in taking it from his father’s room before he left.

Bill Graham owed him a lot more than that, and Will would bet his whole new chance at life it wasn’t registered. His dad wouldn’t dare report a gun he wasn’t even supposed to have. He wondered if Bill would even bring it up the next time they ran into one another.

If they ran into one another.

The house was draped in as much finery as the one before. Hannibal seemed to have gained an abundance of art since the last time Will stepped through his halls; he spied Saint Sebastian just across from Zeus conquering another victim.

Gods like to feel powerful.

If he’d worried that walking down this space, surrounded by Hannibal’s things, would rattle his resolve, the worry dissolved with each resolute step. This was not the house that haunted his thoughts, imprints of each room rubbed over enough to fade onto the walls of his skull. These walls were foreign, oblong, and thankfully the cracks in the paint didn't house his horrors. He marked them, but he wasn't moved by them.

Hannibal met him at the bottom of the stairs, bat aloft. He must have heard Will walk into the coat rack set by an unfortunate corner, and the sound of his thundering steps filled the otherwise silent house just seconds before he revealed himself. It was a normal reaction to an intruder, and Will met him at the stairwell with the pistol raised and the safety off.

Darkness made a monster of Hannibal, casting violent shadows in the hollows of his cheeks. He turned on the landing of the stairs, flat lips lifted into a snarl, nightrobe garishly clashing with the stair-runner, bat poised for a skull-crushing hit. His teeth still flashed pearly white in the gloom, sharpened incisors meant for tearing flesh.

He had the grace to look utterly surprised for the briefest of moments when he realized just who was breaking into his house in the middle of the night; it was quickly over, and the bat was abandoned as hands were raised in compliant geniality. The expression shuttered, and it was just Will, Hannibal, and the pile of bodies that'd stacked up between them.

Silence sat, limp and crumpled like a fresh corpse. Will added it to the pile, just on top of Abigail Hobbs' accusing eyes.  Raging, screaming inside of his head, Jared begged Will to kill just him already.

“Will,” Hannibal greeted finally, voice coarse.

It was hard to see the expression in his eyes in the darkness, but Will felt something hit hard in his gut at the sound. It clenched, and his grip on the pistol clenched with it. Spit rushed to his mouth, and he swallowed painfully, Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Hannibal."

"I didn't believe it for a moment, but it's actually you."

"In the flesh," said Will. "A bat?"

"I've been told it's the best home defense." Silence again, and Will wished he could have seen the clever expression in Hannibal's eyes then, the irony. What were bats to a killer's hands, to the crafting palms so calm as they removed the eyes from a screaming man to punish him?

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your company so early in the morning?" Hannibal asked. "Have you come to kill me?"

"No."

"To intimidate me," he corrected himself.

"Not possible."

He pondered only a moment, then nodded slowly. If he was afraid, it lay hidden in his smooth expression."Ah...to warn me, then."

"I want you to leave me alone. That's all."

"Oh, that's all?" Hannibal's smile may have seemed kinder in the light. It was hard to tell in the gloom, all incisors and shadows. "You come into my home in the middle of the night to tell me to leave you alone?"

"It's a precaution," Will replied easily. "I see you poking at Jack, and I don't want any part of that. Your reasons for letting me go are not important, and I don't want to be involved."

"You think I'm the reason you're free, and yet you don't want to know why?"

"Should I?"

"Most people would wonder."

Will shrugged. "Not relevant."

"Shouldn't it be?"

"Not to someone that wants to live."

"Says the intruder with the gun held at their suspected cannibalistic murderer," Hannibal sneered, and that time he did bare his teeth. "If I am so dangerous as you think, I wonder you daring to break in and threaten me?"

"To tell you I want no part in whatever it is you're doing. You admire boldness, right? You want to keep poking at Jack Crawford, that's your business, but leave me out of it. "

"You think I'm poking at Jack Crawford?"

"I won't help him," Will assured him. "I don't want to be anywhere near your crime scenes, and that leaves you to your bloody mess and me to my life. "

Time had softened Hannibal's accent, but only slightly. Where some parts had clipped and sharply dug at the words before, now they rolled, gentle. "To a normal man, your words sound...delusional, Will. Having just been released from prison, innocent of crimes you didn't commit, I wonder if you've thought about the repercussions for your actions. What would Dr. Chilton say? Agent Crawford?"

Will didn't quite have a response to that. Something about it stopped his mouth, made him hesitate. His arms were starting to get tired.

"I am a psychiatrist now...should I report these delusions to someone, I wonder if they'd place you in a different institution to help with the trauma." It was subtle, the shift in his voice from pleasantly observant to politely cruel. A beat. "Did they take you off of your medication? Are you having trouble adjusting?"

"Right for the throat," Jared crowed beside them. Then, "shoot him."

"Leave me alone, Hannibal," Will said, ever the warning but also the bait. His voice shook. "I mean it."

"Welcome home, Will," Hannibal replied, sanguine-sweet.

He left Hannibal on the landing, and he slipped out the way he came. His heart had crept ever higher in his throat the longer they spoke, and it sat heavy on his tongue the whole way home.

"Could have killed him," Jared said. "Could have killed him and been done already."

"It has to mean something," Garrett disagreed, and he lingered in the backseat, faded and rotted. "He has to honor him, otherwise it's murder."

[thatfanficstuff]

Bound - 10

Pairing: Niklaus Mikaelson x OC

Warning: nope

***

I spun in my seat prepared to strike out only to breathe a sigh of relief when I realized it was Elijah that had opened the door. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and tried to calm my racing heart. “That was not funny.”

“I wasn’t attempting to be,” he assured me, though his lips twitched in amusement. “Niklaus wishes for you to join us.”

I climbed out of the car and let Elijah take my hand to lead me into the house. The closer we came to the massive building, the more power swamped me. If I could access my own magic, there would be a lot of temptation here to draw more power than I was capable of using safely. I wondered briefly if this was where Bonnie got the excess power she’d been hoarding before I took it from her. Not that it really mattered.

As we stepped inside, I stopped in the entry way and sucked in a breath. Whispers buzzed around me and I closed my eyes in an attempt to filter through them. Why are they here? Make them leave. Take the still ones with them.

I frowned. There were a lot of voices here and they were unhappy. “We mean you no harm. We have not come to disturb you, only to reclaim that which was taken from us.”

Take it then and leave. No. No. No. She can stay but they must leave.

“Cassie?”

I opened my eyes to find Elijah studying me.

“Are you all right?” he asked with a frown.

I nodded once. “Yeah, there are a lot of unhappy witches here. Wasn’t Maddox affected?”

“Not that he mentioned. Come.” He grasped my hand more tightly in his and led me through the house, carefully avoiding areas that might trip me up. I was so busy watching my feet that I didn’t realize we’d found the others until Nik called my name.

I glanced up quickly to find him smiling at me as he stood beside a pair of coffins. Elijah released my hand and I went to stand beside the hybrid immediately wrapping my arm around his waist and pressing myself against his side. The whispers started again in earnest and I cringed. My eyes found Maddox. “Can’t you hear them?”

His eyebrows shot up into his hairline. “Hear who? I can feel the power and the agitation, but I don’t hear anyone.”

My gaze shifted to Nik. “We need to get out of here. They aren’t happy that you’re here.”

He didn’t ask any questions. Instead he simply nodded and pulled out his phone to issue instructions. When he’d finished, he turned his full attention on me. “One of the coffins is missing. Do you think you could help Maddox locate it?”

“I can certainly help him find a spell, but I can tell you right now that it depends a great deal on the witches that died here and whether they wish you to find it or not. Right now, I’m leaning toward not.”

Nik growled in irritation and my eyes darted between the two coffins. “Who’s in the third coffin?”

“What, love?”

“The third coffin. Rebekah is undaggered and at the boarding house with Stefan. Elijah is here. That leaves Finn and Kol. So, who’s in the third coffin?”

“I’m ashamed to say that didn’t even occur to me,” Elijah said. And now there were two of us scowling at the hybrid waiting for answers.

Nik shook his head once. “Not here. Too many ears, even if they are dead. Come.”

***

It didn’t take us long to find our way back to the car. Nik refused to speak while we were still on the property and he wouldn’t leave until his hybrids arrived with the truck. We sat in silence and watched as they loaded the other two brothers onto the truck. Once Maddox joined them in the cab, they pulled away. Elijah started the car and followed them off the property before pulling over on the side of the road before we’d even gone half a mile.

“Talk, brother,” Elijah demanded and my eyes focused on Nik.

A muscle twitched in his jaw as he clenched his teeth. Whatever he was about to say, I was fairly certain I wasn’t going to like it. “It’s Esther.”

Pure fear shot through me. “What do you mean, it’s Esther, Nik?” My voice trembled.

He turned in his seat and reached back to place a hand on my knee. “To be fair, when I placed her in the coffin, I wasn’t aware of the full extent of her treachery. I was still grieving and living with the guilt of having killed her.”

“So, you kept her corpse? To what purpose, Niklaus?”

“I suppose at the time, I thought perhaps I could bring her back one day. That I could beg for her forgiveness.” He sighed. “And while she is dead, I wouldn’t necessarily call her a corpse. She’s been maintained by a stasis spell.”

“Is there anything else we should know?” I asked, sounding slightly manic. “Was she breathing when you stuck her in there? Are you sure she was ever dead to start with?”

His hand squeezed my knee. “Breathe, Cassie. I assure you that Esther was dead. Her heart was missing last I saw of her. And a locking spell was placed on the coffin to insure no one could enter without my permission.”

That eased my worry somewhat but not enough to put me completely at ease. “If she comes back somehow, it is important for you to remember that no one is supposed to remember anything that happens on the other side. Not when you enter it like I did. She said things to me…” I trailed off then took a deep breath. “If she even suspects I remember anything, she will kill me.”

“We will remember, Cassie, but I find it unlikely that my mother will pick now to return from the grave.” Elijah did his best to reassure me, but it didn’t help much.

“Why wouldn’t she, Elijah? Your father is dead. Up until now he was here tormenting you on her behalf. Hunting Nik. If anyone can find a way to return from the Otherside it would be her.”

The brothers exchanged a look and I turned to gaze out the window beside me. After a moment, Elijah restarted the car and pulled onto the road. As we neared home, I broke the silence. “Nik?”

“Yes, love?”

“When we get that coffin back, we’re burning it, the Original witch bitch included.”

“Wouldn’t dream of doing otherwise, sweetheart.”

***

It was the next day before I convinced Damon to meet me at the grill. He was convinced it was some sort of trap, and I suppose I could have made it one, but I didn’t see the point. I just wanted to end this. All of it. I also wasn’t stupid enough to meet him on my own but Stefan provided a nice compromise. Damon was still pissed at little brother for saving Nik but he trusted Stefan not to kill him.

“I’m surprised Klaus is letting you do this,” Stefan said as we sat in a booth together waiting for Damon.

I shrugged and gave him a small smile.

Stefan’s eyes went wide. “You didn’t tell him. Are you nuts?”

“You know as well as I do that Damon wouldn’t have come if Elijah or Nik was here instead of you. You also know neither of them would have let me come without them. I just want this to be over. It’s exhausting.”

Stefan nodded. “It is.” He tapped on the table with one finger while he thought. “Just don’t get hurt, huh? I kind of like my heart where it is.”

I huffed a laugh. “You’ll be just fine, Stefan.” Damon walked through the door just as I finished speaking and I raised a hand to signal him.

He slid onto the bench next to Stefan and I pushed a glass of bourbon in his direction. “Cassidy. Baby brother. To what do I owe the invitation.”

He flashed that smirk and I had to remind myself that I no longer had my magic so smacking it off his face would be a bad idea.

“This needs to end, Damon.”

He sipped his drink then sat the glass down with a thud. “To what exactly are you referring?”

Stefan rolled his eyes.

“All of it. This thing between you and the Scooby gang and Klaus. Someone’s going to get killed and it won’t be on my side.”

He narrowed his gaze and looked between me and his brother. “And that doesn’t bother you? That your so-called friends would kill one of us?”

“Of course, it bothers me, Damon. That’s why I called you. You’ve reached your limit. You do anything else and they will kill you.” I kept my eyes locked on his hoping he would see the sincerity there.

His gaze darted around the grill, the eye contact making him uncomfortable. “He got his coffins back, what else does he want?”

“One of the coffins was missing. He wants it back.”

The look of shock on Damon’s face couldn’t be faked. “That wasn’t me. You’ve got to believe me. I left all three in that house.”

This wasn’t good. I believed the elder Salvatore but who knew if Nik would.

“Who else knew they were there?” Stefan asked.

Damon shook his head and I could see the moment realization dawned on him. He licked his lips. “Bonnie. She helped me hide them. It had to be her.”

I sighed. “Yeah, that makes sense unfortunately. She’s been edgy since I stripped her of that excess magic. I’m assuming she sees my lack of powers as an opportunity too good to pass up.”

“Look, Cass, Elena and I didn’t mean anything by all of this. She just wanted Stefan back and I was worried about you. About both of you. We just wanted to make sure that both of you were okay.” His words came quickly and I wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince me or himself.

“Well, in the future I suggest you learn a new word when it comes to Elena. No. She can’t do a lot without your help so just don’t give it to her.”

He nodded but looked uncertain.

I reached out and laid a hand over his. “The only reason you are still alive is because of me. You do realize that, right?”

He studied me for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, I know. I didn’t want to admit it at first, but I know.”

Pulling my hand away, I leaned back in my seat. “I think you and Elena need to leave town for a while. Stefan will let you know when it’s safe to come back. You don’t want to be caught in this shit. Let the blame fall where it belongs.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Cassidy.”

With that, he was gone and Stefan and I just sat staring at each other for a while. “Do you really think Klaus will let them go?”

“Yeah. He may not trust them, but he trusts me. You better take me home so I can talk to him before he goes after them.”

***

Bound:  @deadmanwalked @the-doctor-9-10 @kawaiirepublic @xlosttdreamss @tkdgirl2012 @cacti-succulents-andlesbians @killerheelsanddullknives @readeity @kayla-03-blog @star-incandescent  @bookwormstrawberry @lostinwonderland314 @zillahvathek

[frizz22]

Ch. 3 After Vormir

End Game canon divergence fanfic. 

SPOILERS for movie. 

Read on ao3

“You’re not Nebula.” He muttered, stepping closer, eyes narrowed in suspicion and examination.

“Of course, I am!” She exclaimed, though her eyes were a little wild. “Who else—” 

Shaking his head, Tony circled her. “No, I spent over three weeks on a dead-in-the-water spaceship with Nebula. I helped her repair some of the damage Thanos inflicted. You have the bronze head plate, but not the one on your arm. In fact, that’s not the arm we rebuilt together at all. We played a game, what was it?” He demanded. Nebula just gaped at him. “It was paper football, you won.” Tony looked at her sadly and Nebula looked dazed at the words.

“I won?” She whispered.

Before Tony could say anything else, Rocket shot up from where he’d been sitting then. “It’s past Nebula,” he concluded, stunned. “From before we encountered her and defeated Ronan.”

Shock rippled through them all, but none more so than Nebula. “You, you defeat Ronan?” She breathed in disbelief.

“We defeated Thanos. Chopped off his head.” Thor muttered, “too late, but he is dead.”

Nat leveraged off the table, despite Steve’s quiet protest. “If you’re here, where is our Nebula?”

Shaking her head, Nebula pressed against the wall behind her hard, as if hoping it would swallow her up.

Just then, Tony sat abruptly, knocking some instruments to the floor on accident and drawing their attention. “I knew.” He whispered.

A chorus of “what’s?” went up and Tony covered his mouth and shook his head.

“I knew. I knew there was a price. For the soul stone. I—” He looked at them all wretchedly, “when we were trying to calm Quill down, when the bug lady said he was grieving…. You said,” Tony turned to Nebula and then blinked and shook his head. “Our Nebula, she said Thanos went with Gamora to get the stone but returned without her.” A horrified expression crossed his face and Tony stood again and started to pace. “I am so sorry. I should have remembered, I should have warned you.”

Nat smiled at him softly, how was it that he always managed to find a way to shoulder the blame himself? “What would that have accomplished? You remembering? We’d be a stone short if we’d known.” In her anger at the situation, Nat hadn’t realized what knowing about the sacrifice would have changed.

Everyone looked at her speechless.

Chuckling slightly, and then wincing at the movement, Nat let her eyes sweep over them. “I was just as angry at Nebula as the rest of you, but think about it. If we’d known, what would we have done?”

“We’d have figured something out,” Steve murmured, hand still holding hers.

Shaking her head, Nat turned her gaze to him and smiled sympathetically. “Because not trading lives worked out so well for us the last time.” It was a low blow, but one that needed to be dealt. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter now. It worked out somehow, I’m not dead.” She shifted her attention back to Nebula then. “But we do need answers.”

Nebula clenched her hands into fists, “I’ve already failed my mission; I won’t tell you anything else.” Her expression hardened and she straightened up as if preparing to fight.

Hopping off the bed he was standing on, Rocket approached Nebula. “Oh, I think we can come up with ways to make you talk. And I always have use for mechanical body parts…” Something dangerous gleamed in his eye and Nat knew he was thinking about Groot, the talking tree who’d perished in the snap.

The others seemed a little uneasy with Rocket’s suggestion, but Nat was the first to step forward. “No.” Her tone brokered no argument; she knew what it was like to not only inflict but also withstand torment and torture—she refused to revert back, in any way, to the monster the Red Room had tried to make her. “Put her in a holding cell, I’ll be there in a moment. No one else goes near or touches her.” Nat turned to each of the men in the room in turn, daring them to defy her.

Clint and Steve simply moved forward and bracketed Nebula to escort her to a more secure room should she attempt to escape. Rocket turned to her, “look, I know you have a soft spot for—”

She turned and glared at him, “don’t you have lives to save? There’s no time to waste, you, Stark and Banner need to start working with the stones, see if you can recreate the gauntlet.” The trio backed away from her intensity and nodded and left. “Stark,” she called after him and he stopped in the door. “Stop blaming yourself for everything. After what happened, after weeks on a spaceship with no chance of survival… who would’ve remembered that small of a detail?” Tony gifted her with a small smile before he spun on his heel to follow the other two.    

Sighing, Nat leaned back against the exam table and pinched the bridge of her nose. Rhodey touched her shoulder, “you okay?” His forehead was creased with concern.

Nodding, Nat gave him a tired smile. “Would you three mind starting some dinner? I think everyone could use some food after the day we’ve had.”

Scott smiled, “oh, I can try, but Cassie always said my cooking was passable at best.”

Clapping Scott on the back, Thor smiled. “I’ve never cooked either! This will be a learning experience.” He propelled Scott out of the room, looking happier than Nat had seen him in ages.

“I’ll go make sure they don’t burn down the compound.” Rhodey chuckled, squeezing her shoulder before following the other two.

Nat rolled her neck again before pushing off the exam table and making for the holding cell. There’d been arguments about the need for a holding cell at the compound. But in the end, they’d included them, the cell was comfortable, humane and could house probably Thanos himself without the stones. The reasoning being if they encountered more powerful beings that could not be contained in a standard cell, they could at least be temporarily held at the Avengers compound.

When she reached the cell, Clint and Steve were standing guard, talking in hushed tones. They broke off their conversation as she neared and smiled at her oddly. “Boys,” she greeted, arching a brow.

“We’ll both be out here the whole time.” Steve informed her, clasping his hands in front of him. Clint nodded curtly in agreement.

Rolling her eyes, Nat pushed past them and placed her hand on the scanner to admit herself into the room. “You don’t need to; we’re just going to have a little chat. Girl talk over shared experiences.” Despite her assurances, Nat knew neither one of them would budge until she’d exited the cell—the thought warmed her. She spun and pushed through the door before closing it securely behind her. Nebula eyed her warily from where she was pressed into the corner of the room.

“I won’t talk.” Nebula spat defiantly, tipping her chin up, though Nat could see the fear in her eyes.

Slowly taking a seat, a hand pressed to her aching ribs, Nat inclined her head. “Then you can listen.” Studying the woman in the corner, Nat started to talk, her tone neutral. “You told me once, that growing up when you lost a fight, Thanos would replace a piece of you with metal and gears.”

Nebula blinked, clearly shocked her future self felt comfortable enough with her to share this deeply personal information.

Nat exhaled slowly, “when I was growing up, if you lost a fight in the Red Room, there was a 50-50 chance you’d die. Your opponent waiting for the instructors to give that dreaded signal that you’d been disappointing enough, failed enough to no longer be of use to them. You waited for them to signal your death. We were disposable. I was. And for a very long time, I believed that. Believed I wasn’t good for anything and the only way to keep from being disposed of was to do what I was told and to do it better than anyone. Then Clint found me.” She glanced towards the glass where she knew he was watching closely, and the corners of her mouth twitched upwards a tiny bit. “He thought differently, saw something more. Helped me realize I was more too, that I wasn’t disposable.”

While she’d talked, Nebula had carefully moved away from the wall and come to sit across from her at the table in the room.

“Thanos thinks you’re disposable. Though he hasn’t killed you yet, he will, when it benefits him.” Nat’s heart clenched when Nebula looked away and flinched at the comment. Though it was difficult to hear, it was a cruel truth that Nebula had likely been aware of for most her life. “Do you want to know how he got the soul stone? How we knew you were an imposter?”

Nebula jerked her head and shrugged a shoulder, as if trying to communicate she didn’t care either way. But Nat could tell from the subtle way Nebula leaned forward that she was desperate to hear.

Resting her arms on the table, Nat leaned in as well, just a bit, to make the conversation seem more intimate, more personal; make it easier to forget they were having it inside a holding cell. “You’re aware now what he had to trade… the life of the person he loved most. Why do you think future Gamora isn’t here with us? Why do you think she isn’t the one telling you all this, trying to convince you that you both turned on Thanos?”

Suddenly, Nebula shoved away from the table, her chair clattering to the floor and Nat held up a hand to the glass to keep her boys from barging in. “LIAR!” Nebula bellowed, pacing the room, hands running over her head and face in distress.

“I wouldn’t lie to you about your sister, Nebula.” Nat replied calmly, eyes following the woman as she prowled the small space. “I know this is difficult to accept. But you and I, future you, we’re friends. We have similar pasts; in case you hadn’t noticed. We both had someone see there was more to us, Clint in my case, Gamora in yours. We’re a lot alike, Nebula. You’re my friend and I don’t lie to my friends…” She trailed off, waiting for Nebula to process everything she’d said.

Chest heaving, Nebula turned back to her and Nat knew in that moment, from the look in Nebula’s eyes, that she’d gotten through to her. “Thanos wanted me to sabotage your machine.” Nebula blurted and then sat, unsure how to process her sudden betrayal of the man who’d forced her to call him father.

Tentatively, Nat probed the topic further. “Sabotage it how?”

“Rewire it, to bring him here, to this time period. We saw his death in the memory files of future me.” Her brow furrowed at the absurdity of the situation. Shaking her head, Nebula continued, talking faster—as though now that she’d decided to turn she had to get it all out before she changed her mind. “Thanos realized that, though he’d been successful, that you people would never rest, would never stop trying to change what he’d done. And since you were acquiring the stones, well, he formed a new plan.”

Careful to keep her expression blank except the raise of an eyebrow, Nat clasped her hands together. “And what is this new plan?”

A shudder ran through Nebula. “To not just wipe out half the life in the universe, but all of it. Once that was done, Thanos would recreate the universe to his liking.”

Nat couldn’t control her face this time, despite all her training. “An, an extinction event.” She murmured, eyes widening. “Alright, well, we don’t have to worry about that, we have the stones, he can’t...” Nat paused and then swore, startling Nebula. “Thank you for your help, I’ll be back.” She rushed from the room without another word, panic roiling inside her.

The expressions on Clint and Steve’s faces when she exited the room told her they’d had the same thoughts.

“The plan was to always return the stones to their original timelines moments after we took them. But if we do that now…” Steve ran a hand through his hair agitatedly.

Clint shook his head, “we can’t do that now. Thanos knows about the future, has already changed his plans. If we take the stones back now and he gets them…”

“Past us will still lose the fight and Thanos will still snap his fingers. Only, only this time…” Nat swallowed, “this time he’ll wipe out everyone and there won’t be any of us left to fix it.”

[fatestemptress]

Paramount Remembrances - Chapter 7 - Part 1

Summary: Dean Winchester has reached a point in his life where he doesn’t have many firsts left to fulfill.  Except maybe falling in love.  This is the story of how he got there.

Warnings: Smut. Lots and lots of smut.  Oral (male & female receiving).  Dry humping.  Backseat sex. Teaching/Guiding.  Some Angsty Feels. 18 Plus ONLY! 

Pairings: Young Dean x OFC, Dean x OFC, Dean x Reader (We finally made it!  Woohoo!)

Word Count On this Chapter: 5,180 

A/N:  Sooooo, the Dean x  Reader part kinda got away from me and I realized that I was over 8,000 words in, rambling my way to the conclusion.  So, I decided to break it up.   Good new is, the second part is almost finished.  :)   Again, thank you so much for all the likes and re-blogs.  I’ve had a blast writing this and I’m glad there are those out there enjoying it.  I’ve strayed away from exact canon time periods as I’m not following it as closely as some awesome writers do, however, for purposes in this chapter, this portion is set sometime in Season 7.  Lisa is in Dean’s past and Sam has his soul back with no memories of his experience in Hell.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Dean was thirty-one when he fell in love.  And it scared him shitless.

Over the years, he’d had more sexual partners than he could count, his job never affording him the opportunity to stay in one place for any extended period of time.  He never led any of them on, always left them satisfied, always making sure they both were on the same page as far as the non-status of their relationship would be.  

Dean didn’t want to be labeled as a fuck ‘em and leave ‘em type but apparently those rules of the road his father had spewed out to him so long ago held some substance.  

Too much tragedy followed him everywhere he went, and he found he’d rather leave ‘em than have any of the women in his life physically hurt in any way shape or form.

Cassie had been the closest he had come to the word ‘love’, and while he had been hurt so badly by her rejection, he realized when revisiting her years later, it had been too easy for him to walk away from her when she finally knew who he really was for him to believe it had been anything more than maybe a puppy love in its most pure form.    

Lisa was his most recent and the last mistake he would make in believing that he could have ‘normal.’ That whole relationship had quickly gone to shit and while he had cared for her and Ben deeply, love was never a word that he uttered out loud because he had never truly felt that he could love a woman the way they deserved.  Especially, when he spent his days and nights in constant fear that something could happen to her and Ben, coupled with being restless living an ‘apple pie life’.  It didn’t help that he had eventually realized that she had been a poor substitute for the aching hole the temporary loss of his brother had left behind.

So, Dean had resigned himself and made himself believe that one night stands were the way to go.  

Unless of course there was a woman that came along that could, surprisingly, kick his ass.

And when that happened, well, the world seemed to tilt on its axis a little bit.

Dean never thought of himself as a true masochist.  A dominant? Yes.  A submissive?  At times. But one day when a long leg shot out and kicked him in the stomach before bending down into a sweep that dropped him onto his back with a groan….

Well…he was reminded why.

The reason people and, yes, sometimes even he, embraced pain and put it hand in hand with pleasure.

He’d gladly take another kick to his solar plexus if it meant he could look up at her and see her for the first time over and over again.

Long straight dark hair and light brown eyes looked down at him as one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen stood above him with a gun pointing at his face.

And his gut twisted in more than just pain from that well-placed kick.

“You move, you die.  Now, who the fuck are you?” She said between clenched teeth.  

Dean lifted up his hands in surrender, “Dean.  Dean Winchester.  And you might be?”

Instead of answering, she cocked the gun, “None of your damn business.  Get up.  Slowly.”

Dean complied, his eyes unable to stop drinking in her form.  Black leather jacket over a black tank top and skin tight black jeans tucked into calf high combat boots, rolling over toned curves, her hands and eyes steady as she followed his movements with the precision of a well-practiced fighter.

She was gorgeous.

She was also still pointing the gun at his chest.

“The Winchesters have an anti-possession tattoo.  Show it to me.”

He considered trying to be funny, but the way she held her gun let him know she knew how to use it, so instead he raised an eyebrow, pulled down his t-shirt from his collar and waited as her eyes roamed over the pentagram.

It was only then that she put up the gun and slipped it back into its holster at the small of her back, “Well, Winchester, looks like your reputation precedes you.  Unfortunately, you swaggered your ass into what was supposed to be a trap for the werewolf in town.  So, if you don’t mind, if you could just mosey your way back to wherever you came from, that’d be awesome.”

Dean pursed his lips at her blatant dismissal, “Apology accepted.”  He said sarcastically.

“What the hell do I have to apologize for?  Kickin’ your ass?  Ain’t nobody told you to come here.”

He stepped forward, his eyebrows scrunched together in annoyance, “I’m here for the same reason you are, lady.  To kill a werewolf that’s eating people’s hearts.”

“Well, I got this.  So, you can go.”

And that’s how Sam found them, engaged in a screaming match over who had the biggest balls.

They had known each other for exactly fifteen minutes and already Dean hated her.

Well, he actually kind of liked her too.

When she got really angry, her eyes lightened dangerously, her voice got lower instead of higher and she poked him in the chest with her finger.

Dean wanted to break that finger so bad.  He also wanted to put it in his mouth and suck at the tip until she melted underneath him.

Needless to say, the first six months of their friendship had been frustrating at best and downright tumultuous at worst.  

Mostly because Dean couldn’t figure out if he wanted to smother her in her sleep or kiss her until she made that low moan in her throat that came out when she tasted something delicious.  

He also had a hell of a time trying to just figure her out.  The layers of who she was hidden deep underneath a gruff exterior and smart mouth leaving him dumbstruck when she gave a soft smile and kind eyes to a grieving family or when she turned into a protective mama bear and practically growled when a child was involved in any of their cases.    

It didn’t help that her and Sam got along like two peas in an annoying pod from the moment they met. It had taken Sam six seconds of puppy dog eyes to get her name that day.

Y/N.

Beautiful, breathtaking, annoying Y/N.

And now?

Whenever the three of them joined up on a case, Sam and Y/N spent hours researching the shit out of them and wallowed in long silences where neither of them needed to speak to one another but they still seemed to know what the other was looking for.  

Meanwhile, whenever Dean and Y/N were in the same room it was as if a fire was lit under their asses and instead of putting it out they spent their time trying to find as many leaves and dried kindling they could to keep it at its hottest temperature.  

Their constant arguments could be as serious as who was going to save the world tonight or as ridiculous as what was better than sex.  

Pie or Y/N’s weakness: Chocolate.

The correct answer was neither.  

But they were both so stubborn they refused to come to an agreement on the subject.

And while he would fight anyone who tried to convince him that his pie obsession was uncalled for, he still managed to pick up her favorite candy bars at various rest stops, making sure to always keep a secret stash in his duffel bag if only to torture her with them as he waved the chocolaty goodness at her from the farthest corner of whatever room they happened to be in.

And when she shrugged as if she could care less before distracting him with a well thrown book, pillow or elbow and tackled him on the ground, wrenching the chocolate triumphantly out of his hands, Dean tried not to think too hard on the way his body buzzed the minute her curves made contact with him.

Or the way he stared at her as she gave him a middle finger and bit into her prize.

She was so ridiculously annoying.

And then, there was the……moments.

Moments of something palatable that rolled its way over the two of them and made Dean feel like there was almost something tethering them together, tightening with each deep breath, each sigh of frustration and each smile that he managed to get out of her.

In fact, if Dean really wanted to be honest, there was one moment that stood out more than the rest.

The three of them had been searching for a Wendigo in a forest outside of North Dakota and they had set up camp around the perimeter of where multiple attacks happened, hoping to draw it out instead of traipsing through unknown forest and getting their asses lost.

It had been unseasonably cold that night.  Sam was up keeping watch wandering around the base of their camp jumping up and down to keep warm.  Meanwhile, Dean and Y/N were in separate sleeping bags laying by a fire that hadn’t been enough to keep Y/N from shivering in her sleep.  Dean had stayed in his sleeping bag for twenty minutes contemplating how hard she would hit him in the nuts if he decided to lie down next to her and try to help her stop shivering.  The decision was made for him when she rolled onto her side and her teeth started audibly clattering and he couldn’t take it anymore.  

Grabbing up his blanket and sleeping bag, he laid his sleeping bag next to hers and wrapped her body under the plaid wool of his blanket.  He lay on his side against her back and after hovering his arm over her this way and that he finally said fuck it and wrapped his arm around her waist, bringing her body flush against his.

She woke up immediately and tensed and he swore he could feel her reach for her gun that she had kept next to her.  But before he could say anything, he heard her take a deep breath through her nose as if sniffing the air, then she visibly relaxed into him, saying nothing.

It was ten minutes later, as his nose was in her hair and he was trying to not make it obvious that he was trying to figure out the scent of her shampoo, (Oranges?  Mangos?), when she finally spoke up.

“What are you doing, Winchester?”

Dean tensed against her and tried to surreptitiously move his face out of her hair, “Trying to make sure you don’t freeze to death, what else?”

She hesitated before answering him and to his surprise moved her body even closer to his, moving until her ass was right up against his now very interested cock and burrowed even deeper under the blanket he had thrown over them.  Dean let out a silent curse as he felt himself swell even more when her delectable backside rubbed against him and he tried his best to picture and name the ugliest monsters he had seen to date in an effort to get his dick to stop being an asshole.

He had finally gotten himself to relax some when he heard her clear her throat, “Thank you.”  She whispered, “This…this is a lot better.”

Dean closed his eyes against the warmth that amplified in his lower belly and took a deep breath, “Yeah, well, the Wendigo aint gonna want no frozen meat, so, gotta keep his dinner warm somehow.”

Y/N let out a harrumph but didn’t move from her position against him, “Moron.”

A half smile graced his features as he felt his body settle into something he hadn’t felt in so long, if ever.  Despite their current circumstances, despite the fact that they were on a hunt and could very well be dinner, he felt….safe. Warm.  Content.

And before he could talk himself out of the feeling, he felt his heavy eyes finally drift closed and he fell asleep.

The next morning, found him still alive.  

And hard.  

Sometime during the night, he had rolled onto his back and Y/N had rolled into his chest with her arm wrapped tightly around him and her face buried in his neck. Her leg was bent and thrown over his waist, and either Y/N was deliberately trying to get him off or she was having a very good fucking dream because her hips were undulating against him slightly causing her calf to move against his very interested, throbbing cock.

Dean blinked a few times and desperately tried to hold back a groan but he was unsuccessful.  Y/N’s head sleepily popped up and she looked up into his eyes.  He watched as unnamable emotions flickered through the light brown depths as she stared at him, her hair adorably sticking up haphazardly, and he would have bet money she was going to kiss him.  Except his asshole dick chose that moment to twitch in interest and her eyes clouded before she reared back, sat up and hit him in the chest.

“Really, Dean!  We’re being hunted by a monster and yet you still can’t control yourself?”

He hid his disappointment by bringing his arms behind his head as he grinned up at her, seemingly unrepentant, “It wasn’t me rubbing all up on you, Sweetheart.  If you’re gonna offer it, he’s gonna take it.”

Y/N gave him a disgusted look even as she blushed, “What the fuck ever, Dean.  Aint nobody offering nothin’.”

He winked at her, “Sure, Darlin’.  Keep telling yourself that.”

“UGH!”  

And with that, Y/N threw the covers back and quickly made her way to Sam where he was standing at the edge of camp giving them extreme side eye.

While Dean was sure they had killed the Wendigo, the who, what and when’s of it was a blur.  

Because the only thing he could focus on from that moment in time was that split second when her eyes were clear and the guards were down and he saw….something in their depths.  

Something that made him both exhilarated and fucking terrified.

From that trip on, the fire that burned was slowly turning into an inferno and the tension was at an all-time high.

But they still had each other’s back.  Still steadfastly protected one another in dangerous situations, taking hits when it meant they could distract would be bad guys from hitting the others; from hurting the team they had built on a precarious platform constructed from frustration, sarcasm, smirks….and that something else.

He would be damned if admitted how much he missed her when she was gone, on her own, hunting the bad guys on her terms.  

But he did.

And it made him even angrier when he felt it. That something missing, gnawing at his belly and deep inside his chest.

He wouldn’t even touch the emotion he felt when he saw her name pop up on his or Sammy’s phone or the rush of elation when he saw her truck pull up beside them on whatever no name highway they agreed to meet on.

However, it was during a particularly stressful case, where they couldn’t agree if it was a God or a Djinn causing havoc that apparently Sam had finally had enough.  

Enough of them and their unnecessary arguments.

Enough of the yearning dance they had perfected as they circled around one another.

“I’m soooo glad Dicky Dean is coming out to play today.”  Y/N growled as she threw a pillow at his head, the movement of her arm making her breasts jiggle slightly in her tight red tank top.

Not that he noticed.

Dean ducked just in time before casually sitting back in the motel chair and taking a drink of his beer as if he didn’t have a care in the world, “Why am I a dick?  ‘Cause I don’t agree with you?”

“It’s not that you don’t agree with me.  It’s the way you don’t agree with me.  All high and mighty with that cocky grin.”  

Said grin slid across his lips and he shrugged, “I’ve been told I have a big reason to be cocky.”

“Yeah, well, people lie to spare our feelings all the time, Dean.”

“Facts don’t lie, Sweetheart.”

“For the four millionth time, don’t call me Sweetheart, you ass.”

“Sorry, Baby.  I’ll try not to.”

“Dick.”

Sam stood up, “All right! Enough!  You two are driving me to drink.  As a matter of fact, that’s what I’m gonna go do.  Go to a bar and get a drink and maybe it’ll muffle the sound of this nonsense and we can go back to actually solving this case.”

“Wait, Sam,” Y/N said as she stood up next to him and grabbed a jacket, “I’m gonna go with you. I need a drink too.”

Sam threw his hands up in the air and walked to the door, “Whatever.  Let’s just go.”

Dean blew a kiss at Y/N as she gave him one more glare before sticking her tongue out him and the door closed behind them.

Childish?  Yes.

But that tongue?  He could imagine it doing any number of things to his body and the thought made him groan deep in his chest.

Pretty soon the silence of the room started to grate on his nerves and when he noticed himself pacing over the same space over and over he finally gave in, grabbed his jacket and headed to the bar down the block from the motel.

The music was loud but not too loud and it was fairly crowded for a weekday.  There was any number of available conquests waiting for the kill but his eyes automatically gravitated to the one person who made his blood boil for so many different reasons.

She had discarded her jacket somewhere and was swaying to the current song, standing in front of the digital juke box, vodka club in hand, as she perused the other music selections.   Her round ass encased in her skinny jeans had the attention of most of the bar and if she continued to shimmy it for much longer, she’d have a line of eager suitors ready to roll.  

Dean’s feet started making their way over to her before he had to physically stop himself.  

What was he doing?  Let her annoy someone else for the night.

He made his way over to where Sam was keeping an eye on Y/N from the bar, beer in hand.

“Was wondering how long it would take you to make your way over here.”  Sam said in greeting.

“I got bored.”

Sam smirked at him, “Uh huh. And I’m sure it had nothing to do with Y/N.”

Dean gave him a look of disbelief, his eyes following Sam’s stare to where Y/N was laughing with some random male stranger over who knew what, “Why would it have anything to do with that pain in the ass?”

“You guys fight like cat and dog.  And the tension keeps building and building…”

Dean raised a hand at the bartender and deliberately turned his back on Y/N’s form across the room, “There’s no sexual tension, Sammy.  She just makes me want to choke her out.  And not in the good way.”

A sly smile slid across Sam’s face as he leaned against the bar on one elbow, “Who said anything about sexual tension, Sigmund?”

“Shut up.”

Holding his hands up in surrender, Sam shrugged, “Okay.  Okay, Dean. So, then, uh, I want to ask you something.”  Sam shoved his free hand in his pocket, a sheepish expression sliding over his face, “Ummm, if you’re really not interested, then, uh, you wouldn’t mind me going for it, right?”

Dean stilled as he stared at his brother’s face in shock, “You’re not serious….are you?”

Sam shrugged, “She’s hot. And she’s smart and brave and can tell your ass off as fast as she can sew you up after getting hurt.”  Sam’s eyes flicked over to her, watching as she picked up a cue stick and started playing pool with the random guys she had been speaking to earlier, “And she has the nicest ass I’ve seen in a long time.”

“Sam!”

“Oh, please.  Don’t start.  I’ve seen you checking it out plenty of times.”

“Yeah!  Cause I have eyes!”  

The bartender finally made his way over to them, “What can I get ya?”

Thanking the bartender silently for the interruption so that he could gather his thoughts, Dean replied, “Whiskey.  Neat. Thanks.”

The bartender nodded and made his way back to the other end of the bar as Dean took a deep breath and raised his gaze to Sam’s, “Look, things like this can get complicated, Sammy. She’s independent as hell and prefers to work alone.  Making a relationship like that work would be hard.”

Sam scrunched his eyebrows in confusion, “Who said anything about a relationship?”

Dean shot Sam a confused look his own, “Huh?”

“We’re both adults, Dean. Sex doesn’t have to equate to a relationship.”

An anger that Dean wasn’t sure he understood shot through his body and he felt his jaw involuntarily clench as he turned his body toward his brothers’, “You sayin’ you just wanna bang her and act like nothing happened after?”

Sam’s eyes scrunched further, “Dean…I’m not sure what part you’re not understanding.  If there’s anyone who could comprehend something like this, it’s you.”

Dean threw his hands up in frustration, “Yeah, Sam!  With random chicks that know the deal and are okay with having a one night stand that’s not gonna amount to nothin’.”

Sam bit down on the inside of his mouth, his lips quirking slightly before he turned it into a frown, “And if I tell Y/N what the deal is and she’s okay with it, what’s the problem?”

With a growl, Dean tossed back the whiskey that had appeared in front of him and wiped the side of his mouth before pointing at Sam, “The problem is that she’s not just some random chick, Sam.  It’s Y/N! She’s our friend and she deserves more than just some random fuck and a ‘See you around sometime.’.”

“So you do care about her?”

“Of course I fucking care about her. It’s…she’s….SHE DESERVES MORE DAMMIT!”

Sam finally let that quirk at the side of his mouth slide into a full-fledged grin as he drank the last of the beer in hand, “Then why don’t you stop being a dick and tell her how you feel already.”

Dean blinked at Sam, momentarily thrown at his change in demeanor and his mouth opened and closed like a fish as he realized just how telling his words were, “Wha-?”

Slamming the empty bottle on the bar, Sam rolled his eyes, “Get out of your perpetual hole of denial and go get the girl you’ve been in love with for months already.”

Dean stubbornly ignored Sam’s last statement, “Soooo, you don’t want to bang her?”

Letting out a scoff of disbelief, Sam rubbed at his eyes in frustration, “God, please give me strength. No, Dean. I don’t want to bang her. I would never, ever get in the way of what I’ve seen between you two.”  He grabbed at Dean’s shoulder and tightened his grip forcing his brother’s eyes to his, “It’s okay to love someone, Dean.  It’s okay to love her.”

Dean stilled and stared at his brother as he bit the inside of his lip, a million thoughts racing in his mind.  The most prominent one being the nonononononononono that was echoing in his brain bouncing around like a pinball against the memories of all he had endured.  Every moment in his too short/too long life that had changed who he was before to who he was now.

He didn’t love her.  

He couldn’t love her.

He still had so much darkness in him.  Guilt. Pain. And he struggled every day to put those feelings of inadequacy into a small corner of his mind until they reared their ugly head at night when it was too quiet to drown out the memories.  

Everything in his world ended in tragedy and tears and so many had been hurt or died because of him.

He couldn’t risk it.

His eyes flicked over to where he saw Y/N raising her hands in victory before holding her hand out to the poor schlep in front of her.  She playfully curtsied in thank you as the money was slapped into her palm with a grumble. As she smiled, she turned her gaze towards the bar and met Dean’s eyes with her own and waved the money at him with a smirk and a wink, before letting the smirk drop into a frown as the intensity of his stare seemed to burn her from across the room.

He couldn’t risk her.    

Dean swallowed thickly as she gave him a concerned face.  Y/N brushed off the guy currently trying his best to earn his money back and pushed her way through the crowd to them.

He could feel Sam watching him from his perch “Moment of truth, Dean.  She’s making her way over here and since she’s seen you go pale as a ghost, she’s gonna wanna know why.”

Flicking his eyes everywhere but at her, he felt his heart start to pound even faster and panic quickly set in.  He reached into his pocket and flung some money on the bar before making his way to the door.

“Shit!  Dean!  Dean, wait!”

Ignoring Sam’s calls, he opened the door to the bar and disappeared into the night.

He wouldn’t risk her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  

“Oh my, God!  It’s a Wednesday.  Why is it so fucking crowded in here?”  Y/N muttered as she finally made her way to the bar where she saw Sam standing by himself, his mouth set in contemplation.

Grabbing his arm none too gently, Y/N pulled his attention to her, “Hey!  Where’d Dean go?”

Sam let out a soft sigh and shrugged, “Not sure.”

Ignoring the disappointment in her chest, she pulled up the empty stool next to him and sat down, “What do you mean?  He was just here and he looked like he was gonna puke.  Is he okay?”

Sam let out another sigh and motioned to the bartender, “I, uh, may have said something that he wasn’t ready to hear yet.”  He lowered his head to the bartender when he appeared, “Another beer and a vodka club, please.”

Y/N stared at Sam’s profile and took note of the hard clench of his jaw, “Sam, he looked physically ill. What could you have possibly said to make him react that way?”

The ridiculously tall hunter’s eyes flicked over to hers before looking away.  He rubbed his hand over his face and then he suddenly shrugged and threw his hands up, “You know what?  I’ll tell you because I honestly can’t take much more of this.”  

“Sam?”

He placed his hands on Y/N’s shoulders and lowered his head to look into her eyes, “My brother is head over heels, madly, insanely, in love with you,” Sam squeezed her shoulders tight, “And at this point I’m convinced, he will never tell you.”

Y/N blinked up at Sam as her mouth dropped open.  She let out small sounds of disbelief before she swallowed hard, shook her head and let out a loud laugh, brushing his hands off of her, “Get the fuck outta here!  No, he isn’t.  Sam, you’re outta your mind.”  She plucked the vodka soda out of the bewildered bartenders hand before he could place it on the bar and quickly swallowed two large gulps before turning her attention back to him, her hands trembling slightly, “Did he…did he tell you that?”

Sam gave her an indulgent, gentle smile, “He didn’t have to.  There’s no one in this world I know better than my brother.  So that means I also know he’s drowning in a denial pool and with each day that passes, he keeps going deeper and deeper and he’s gonna drive both you and I crazy until he either drowns or runs away.”  

“Soooo, he didn’t tell you this himself?”

Sam groaned and slapped himself on the forehead, “Do you two ever listen to anything other than what you want to hear?”

“This isn’t what I want to hear, Sam!  Do you know how stubborn, how controlling, how much of a pain in the ass that man is?!”  Y/N let out a growl, “H-he is constantly trying to tell me what to do.  He’s always challenging every thought I have,” She threw back the rest of her drink; “He’s always nagging me about every move I make.  Make sure to check your six, Y/N.  Make sure you don’t hesitate, Y/N.  Make sure you watch Sammy’s back, Y/N.  Why didn’t you say you were cold, Y/N? Like, what the fuck?!  When we’re in the same room it’s hard to breath as is and he just makes it so that I feel like I’m suffocating when he…when he…”

Sam let out a small laugh as he watched her struggle, “When he what?”

Y/N wiped at the side of mouth, catching a stray droplet of liquor before whispering, “When he teases me and then nudges me trying to get me to smile at him.  When he waves coffee under my nose trying to get me to wake up in the mornings.  When he steals the bacon on my plate because he already finished his and then he fucking winks at me and….and…”  Y/N closed her eyes and swallowed deep, “When he looks at me….with those eyes of his…..”  

Oh, God.

In the months that she had known him, Y/N had pushed whatever she might be feeling deep into the caverns of her heart because she knew, she fucking knew, Dean was never going to address the proverbial elephant in the room.  She would watch him, watch her out of the corner of her eye and would see…she would feel this utter sense of loss coming from him.  

At first, it confused her. But then the nights she was forced to share a room with them, she would hear him struggling in his sleep, whimpering as memories of pain assaulted his senses and she understood.

Dean Winchester couldn’t afford to feel anything.  

Because everything that mattered was eventually taken away from him.

And Y/N understood.

So, she left it alone. And she ached.  But she left it alone.

She was a proud, stubborn woman and she wasn’t going to force herself on anyone.  

No matter how much she loved him.

Fuck!

Now what?

A whimper left her mouth and she banged her head on the bar top in front of her and groaned, “Why did you have to tell me that, Sam?  I was just fine doggy paddling in my own damn pool.”  

His large hand rested on the top of her head as he affectionately ran his hands through the strands of her hair, “No you weren’t.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Chapter 7 - Part 2

@akshi8278 @curly-haired-disaster @chook007 @scorpiongirl1 @pisces-cutie @winchesterbroys

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Wonderbat Week: Day 4 - Holiday

Title: What The Kids Want

Word Count: 2,102

Author’s Note: So so sorry this is late! I just kind of went overboard for with this and I didn’t feel like writing yesterday. Not desire to write and a large word count does not go well together so I just finished this (now I got to go write today’s prompt plus yesterday and today’s prompts for Dickkory Week. Yay :( ). Anyway, in my first entry I added in a mention Donna and Cassie because I didn’t want to erase them. However I have no knowledge of them so they are absent in this fic. Also my first time writing Jason sooo… Idk, it’s really important to me that Bruce’s kids have a role in Wonderbat’s relationship.

@fyeahwonderbat

—

Gotham was not a pretty city. The gothic buildings gave off a dark aura and the rank trash on its grimy streets gave the stale air a permanent smell. And yet, despite the sky high crime rates and bitter atmosphere, the city almost looked inviting under the mask of freshly fallen snow — especially when one was standing outside of their ancestral manor, sharing a cup of tea with a close friend as one’s kids played and got along.

Bruce Wayne took a deep breath, taking in the crisp winter air. A hot cup of tea warmed his palms but it almost didn’t compare to the comforting heat radiating from the woman next to him. In front of him was his boys. What had started as gentle teasing from Dick had turned into a full blown snow war featuring Dick and Tim vs Jason and Damian. Yeah, the pairings were odd but Bruce couldn’t care less: his kids were having fun together and that was all that mattered.

“This doesn’t happen often, does it?” Diana asked as she sipped her tea, drawing bruce’s attention away from his boys. A harsh wind blew and Bruce squeezed his mug harder. It had almost killed Alfred to put their drinks in big mugs instead of proper tea cups but it was far too cold to drink tea in little spurts.

“What doesn’t?”

“Them getting along? Usually Tim and Damian are going at it and Dick is either trying to break it up or caught in the middle. And I hardly see Jason anymore.”

“Yeah…” A dark feeling stirred in Bruce’s chest, nearly stamping out the joy the sight before him brought. “It’s rare to see these moments. It’s hard to get the kids to get along and a fight to get Jason to willing drop by. But these moments makes it more than worth it.”

“I bet they do. Watching them is like watching my sisters in Themyscira. No matter how hard we fight each other, we know the other would have our back in battle. Same with your boys, right?”

“Same with my boys. They love each other, even if only Dick will admit it.” Bruce looked back towards his boys and frowned. “And they’re plotting something.”

Dick, Damian, Tim, and Jason stood huddled in the middle of the yard, snowball fight forgotten. Occasionally a pair of blue eyes would dart towards Bruce and Diana before returning to the whispered conversation between them. Bruce narrowed his eyes and strained his ears but he couldn’t hear anything.

“What’s going on over there?” he eventually called after accepting that eavesdropping was impossible from this distance. The boys jumped apart with shining eyes and sneaky smiles, an almost believable picture of innocence.

“Nothing!” Dick replied as he strolled towards the pair on the porch. His brothers followed. “We was just going over a case that’s been nagging me. Perhaps you can help?” Bruce raised an eyebrow at his youngest.

“I thought you said no work on Christmas?” Pink highlighted Dick’s cheeks and he briefly bit his lip. Bruce nearly shook his head: he had spent weeks teaching Dick to control such reactions.

“I know, I know: I’m a hypocrite. But I just can’t focus on having fun with you guys with this case on my mind. Can you please help me?” It wasn’t common for Dick to beg for help. Ever since Robin became Nightwing the young man had been adamant about independence, so it was a big red flag that was was begging for help now. But with Diana right there, Bruce found himself not wanting to make a scene.

“Sure, Dick,” the man said, voice flooded with suspicion and resignation.

“Great! I’m gonna grab some hot chocolate and we’ll meet in your study.” With that Dick raced into the manor, a large grin stretched across his face.

“I can also use a refill,” Diana hummed, shaking her empty mug. “Meet you there?”

“No!” Tim  shouted. The two adults looked at him, causing the teen to flush a dark red. “Actually, I - um - was hoping to ask Diana a few questions, if you don’t mind.”

“Later, Tim,” Bruce said with a tone that allowed no arguments.

“Yeah! Diana can’t answer your fangirl questions: she’ll be too busy sparing with me and Damian in the Batcave. Right Diana?” Jason asked with hopeful eyes.

“I’ve always wanted to conquer the Amazon in a sword fight,” Damian added with a shrug of the shoulders. Jason scoffed.

“In your dream, short stack. She’ll wipe the floor with you!”

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose as Jason and Damian began to squabble and exhaled through his nose. Then he looked at the woman next to him. “Diana, I’m sorry to ask but—”

“It’s no problem. But I must warn you: Damian might be a little grumpy after I defeat him in battle.” Something in Bruce’s chest burned as Diana flashed him a smile before the Amazon was dragged off by his 2nd oldest and youngest sons.  It wasn’t a bad burn; more like the burn of a cup of tea or a fireplace on the coldest day of the year. It almost brought a smile to his face but he quickly stomped that down when he saw Tim still standing there.

“Er, I’m just gonna… go inside…” Tim muttered awkwardly before sidestepping Bruce and disappearing inside. Bruce sighed and followed his second youngest.

—

By the time Bruce made it to his study, Dick was comfortable seated on his desk with a mug of hot chocolate in hands and stacks of papers spread onto the desk’s remaining surface. Dick gestured him over eagerly. Bruce was barely sat down before Dick started to explain the case to him.

5 minutes later and it was clear to Bruce that this was a waste of time. The case was an easy one with plenty of evidence as to who the perp was and why they did it. There was no way Dick hadn’t figured it out already. But Dick was determined to drag Bruce into it and no matter how many times the older man interrupted and tried to figure out Dick’s real motives, the younger just kept soldiering on and ignoring him. By the time 30 minutes had passed Bruce was completely tuning his son out, more interested in the way Dick’s eyes kept flickering to the watch on his wrist.

“Now, I was thinking —” Dick started around the 45 minute mark but he was cut off as his watch began to beep. Dick let out a breath and quickly jumped off the desk, breathing out a quiet “finally” that Bruce barely managed to catch. Dick began to collect the papers.

“Did you figure it out?” Bruce asked as he watched Dick clean up quickly. He was leaning in his seat, arms crossed and eyebrows raised.

“Hm? Oh! No, I didn’t but it’s Christmas and I refuse to work on this any longer! C’mon, let’s go find the others.” Bruce barely had time to process Dick’s excuse before his son grabbed him by the arm and pulled him out the room.

“Woah - slow down!” Bruce hissed but Dick ignored him, instead pulling him through the hallways even faster as he muttered a chant of “c’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” below his breath. “Dick, where are we going?”

“To find the others - ah ha!” Dick stopped in his tracks before quickly stepping around Bruce so he was behind the man and pushing him forward. “Stay there!”

“Why?”

“Just stand there!”

Bruce rolled his eyes and exhaled harshly. He had learned not to play his kids’ games a long time ago so why was he indulging Dick now? Before Bruce could move, though, the sound of a mini stampede rumbled through the hallway. The rest of his kids were coming.

Bruce stood there and looked ahead, watching as Jason and Tim pulled Diana towards him and Dick, Damian right on their heels. He barely had time to take in the sight - let alone chastise them for their behaviour - before his two middle children sling-shotted Diana forward, right into Bruce’s arms.

“Diana!” Bruce gasped in shock as the woman collided with him. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry—”

“I’m fine. The boys were in quite a hurry to bring me up here. Is everything alright?”

“As far as I know but my sons are acting suspicious and that’s never a good thing.” Bruce shot a glare at all four of his sons. They only smiled in return, Damian’s smile a bit more hesitant and begrudging than the rest. Bruce opened his mouth to demand answers but was quickly cut off as Diana shuffled in his arms. A hot flush flooded Bruce’s face and he quickly let the Amazon go. He let go so quickly that he nearly toppled her balance again.

“S-sorry,” Bruce stuttered, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. The heat in his face increased: Batman did not stutter!

“It’s okay,” Diana replied, a faint pink blush decorating her own cheeks. A few awkward beats passed before Jason broke it with a deep groan.

“This is taking too long! Look up already!” Dick and Tim emphasized his words by pointing up towards the ceiling.

As one, Diana and Bruce tilted their heads upwards and looked at the ceiling 25 feet above them.

Oh God, thought Bruce as dread and embarrassment filled him. How did they get mistletoe all the way up there?

Bruce’s heart began to pound and his hands clenched into fists at his sides. The dream/embarrassment mixture only intensified as he heard a small “oh,” slip from Diana’s mouth. Bruce kept his eyes up as he began to stutter, too embarrassed to look at his friend.

“Di-Diana, I’m s-so sorry! I don’t - why would they - oh my gosh!” Bruce’s head fell forward into his palms, his fingers pulling at his hair. He should’ve know his kids would pull something like this: they’ve been trying to push him and Diana together for months now! And inviting Diana over during mistletoe season? Bruce mind as well gotten onto his knees and begged for his kids to do this.

Suddenly, Diana began to laugh.

“S-sorry,” the Amazon snorted between giggles. “Your face right now is just -” Diana cut herself off as she doubled over in laughter. Around them the boys began to laugh too. Was Diana in on it? Did they all team up against him?

How come that idea didn’t upset him as much as it should’ve?

Finally Diana straightened with a sniff as her laughter died out. She licked her lips and, with big blue eyes glinting, the Amazon stepped closer to Bruce and threw her arms around his neck.

“D?” Bruce muttered, questioningly. His own arms moved of their own volition and wrapped around Diana’s waist.

“Your boys put so much effort in this. Mind as well give them what they want.”

“Yes! Kiss her!” Dick yelled from the sidelines, practically buzzing. The others quickly shushed him.

Bruce couldn’t help but noticed the way Damian stood close to Dick, slightly behind his older brother as if the shield himself from the scene before him. The last time he had checked, Damian still held hopes of Talia and him reconciling and the three of them becoming a proper family. But here was help, scheming to get him and Diana to kiss? Was the boy truly okay with this?

As if reading his mind, Damian made eye contact with his father and nodded his consent, latching onto Dick’s sweater as he did so. The young man quickly threw an arm around his little brother and pulled him close.

“Are you okay with this?” Diana whispered. “I’ll understand if your not.” Bruce closed his eyes and thought. Diana was willing to kiss him. His sons wanted them to kiss. And him — Bruce thought harder — he wasn’t against the idea at all.

“Yeah,” he answered. “I’m more than okay with this.”

Diana’s blinding smile was the last thing he saw before he closed his eyes and their lips met. Inside his chest something burst and something else clicked. Bruce found himself deepening the kiss, a low groan coming from deep in his throat. He could feel Diana’s smile against his lips, the heat of her body pressed against his, her fingers in his hair. It felt good. It felt right.

The world around them melted away as Bruce and Diana kissed. And then they kissed again. And again. Lost in the woman in his arms, Bruce almost didn’t hear the cheer and applause coming from his sons.

Almost.

[stealther-gurl]

Test of Faith (xOC AU)

Word Count: 2600+

Summary: If Nabu had never let Kaldur take off the Helmet. Featuring one of my own OCs!

Klarion cackled, the noise ripping apart Nightingale's brain as she gritted her teeth and tried desperately to think of a plan that would get her team out of this in one piece. Just because she and Richard had to grow up real fast in order to lead the team after what happened to Aqualad several years ago, didn't mean the others had to grow up quite as fast.

A quick blast of lightning took care of the lava demon being sent after Wonder Girl.

"You okay?" Emma demanded, yanking the girl to her feet.

"Y-yeah," Cassie said. Emma couldn't tell if she was crying or not. It was too hot in this demonic lava-pit-trap that any tears would evaporate immediately.

"Then keep moving. We're gonna get out of here," Emma growled. Cassie nodded, and flew at another lava monster. Nightingale took to the air too, surveying the battlefield. No Zatanna for instantaneous magical teleportation, no zeta-tubes in sight, and no Kid Flash to zoom them out of here.

As much as she didn't want to see him, they needed Doctor Fate.

"Superboy!" Nightingale cried. A lava burst singed her arm as the boy of Steel looked up at her.

"Get Miss M and Beast Boy out of here!" She barked.

"I can still fight!" Garfield Logan shouted up at her as Superboy grabbed him and his blood sister.

"Yeah, but the heat is slowing down your Martian blood just like hers!" Nightingale shot back. "My job is to keep you safe." Reluctantly giving in, Beast Boy let Superboy leap out of the pit, carrying him and the unconscious Miss Martian with him.

"Nightwing!" Nightingale landed next to her own twin, blocking a wave of lava aimed for him with her wing.

"Em, you okay?" Rick said, knocking his monster back into the lava it had come from.

"Just fine," Emma shook her head. "Please tell me you have a plan. We can't keep this up for long."

Nightwing sighed through his teeth. "Well, I did call in the cavalry, but Wotan was trying to use the Amulet of Aten to block out the sun- again- so he should be here right about-"

The end of Richard's sentence was lost in a clap of thunder, the glow of the lava dimmed by the brightness of an Ankh symbol that was brighter than the sun at noon.

"Klarion!" Doctor Fate's layered voices echoed demonically. "Desist at once!"

The Lord of Chaos glared up at the Lord of Order. "Here to clean up the kiddies' messes again, you old fart?" He snapped.

It worked, though. The lava monsters that the team was fighting sunk back into the base of the pit, and the temperature decreased the tiniest bit as Klarion focused all his energy into fighting the Lord of Order.

Nightingale fell to her knees, breathing heavily. "Good plan." She told her brother, though she didn't look up. She couldn't watch the fight right now.

Nightwing grinned sadly as he knelt next to his big sister and co-leader, patting her back encouragingly. "Now we get out of here and avoid the cataclysms and Fate has this all wrapped up like a burrito before we head off to-"

"Look out!" Bumblebee, though she was in shrunken form, yanked Nightwing and Nightingale out of the way as Klarion's blast forced Doctor Fate through the stone platform where they'd been standing, and into the lava.

"Kaldur!" Nightingale screamed. She felt Nightwing's fingertips digging into her arm, holding her back from a similar fate.

"It's okay, it's okay, Nightingale, he's magic. He'll be fine. I hope." Nightwing's rambling was not helpful at all.

The twins and Bumblebee stared at the bubbling lava for a moment, before a golden bubble burst triumphantly out of the lava. Doctor Fate leaned on his hands and knees, still smoking from the heat as he coughed, breathing heavily.

"That's why Klarion chose this place," Emma gasped in fear. "Not to take out our biggest player-" she quickly glanced in the direction that Superboy had brought Miss Martian.

"Kaldur may be weilding Nabu's power and mind, but he's still got his Atlantean weaknesses. Klarion is gonna kill him!" She cried, already flying across the field to his rescue.

"Nightingale, wait-" Nightwing gave up on trying to stop his sister. "Wonder Girl, Superboy, double punch!" He commanded, signalling to the team that it was time to jump back in and help out the Leaguer.

As Klarion bore down on Fate, reeling back to deliver the killing blow with Teekl's approval, Nightingale blocked the blast with her wings, still tender in the ravishing heat. Before Klarion could recover, Wonder Girl and Superboy made their move. One hit him in the gut, the other in the face, effectively drawing his attention away from Doctor Fate.

Nightingale's ponytail had come undone, the stray strands of hair plastered to her sticky, sweaty face as she knelt over the body that had once belonged to her dearest friend, and was now possessed by and used freely by an all-powerful, incredibly rude, prick of a Lord of Order.

"Kaldur, Kaldur wake up," She begged, shaking him roughly.

"Come on! You have to get up!" She cried. She pressed her forehead against the forehead of the helmet. "We need you, Kaldur, not the Lord of Order. You." She whispered.

Static leapt between her fingertips and the metal helmet, and instantly, she knew what to do.

She looked back to her team. Nightwing could lead the team much better than she could, she knew that, she wouldnt hold him back this way. He and Robin and Finch would have people to help them move on and grow up. And what of Batman? Would he be proud of her for making such a sacrifice? Livid that she did so unnecessarily?

Well, it wouldn't be so unnecessary to her. This way, Kaldur could finally get the closure he needed. He'd get to go home, back to Atlantis, see his parents again, join the team once more.

Kaldur hadn't known the risks when he put on the helmet, but Emma understood them perfectly.

"I will take the helmet," She whispered, just loud enough that she knew Fate would hear her and finally let Kaldur go free.

With one smooth yank, the helmet came off, and the robes of the Lord of Order faded from around Kaldur.

He looked just as he had four years ago when he first put it on in the Louisiana Bayou, only more tired. He hadn't eaten or slept in four years. He hadn't needed to. But even though he knew sorcery, that much power had to tire him out.

"I should have told you the moment I knew it myself," Emma bit her lip. Her arms tingled, the weight of the helmet in her hands, compelling her to keep her promise. But she still had the willpower to do one more thing.

She quickly kissed Kaldur's cheek.

"I love you," she whispered.

Almost on its own, the Helmet slid over her head, heavy and burdensome.

And then she heard his voice.

"EMMA! NO!"

She tried to turn around, tell him it was okay, but then it was dark, and the world disappeared from around her.

Emma's eyes popped open, seemingly on their own.

"AH!" She gasped, panting for air. The last thing she remembered was Kaldur screaming her name.

At least he was alive.

"Okay, okay, I put on the helmet. Now what?" She whispered. It was as if she was onstage, a spotlight bearing down on her head, but she couldn't see the apron of the stage, or the backstage clutter, barely hidden by a jumble of curtains.

"You know Nabu, if you're gonna keep people trapped in your stupid helmet for their entire lifespan, you might wanna provide them with some light entertainment. You know, a book, some arts'n crafts, a show, anything?"

As if he was actually listening, A portal-like window appeared in front of Emma. She leaned through it, and she was suddenly looking through her own eyes in her own body again. Her-Fate came at Klarion, fists glowing with magical energy. Fate summoned glowing golden chains to bind Klarion, but he swatted them away with a giant, clawlike hand.

Nightwing and the team had been forced back by the magic fight. She could feel them staring at her, watching Nabu in sheer terror.

Superboy had moved Aqualad out of the way, up where he'd brought Miss Martian and Beast Boy. The way that they were busying themselves with him convinced Emma that he was still alive. At least one good thing had come from today.

"You know, Wally told me that you can't use the combined powers of the mortal's body that you wear in addition to your own," Emma started, resting her arms on the bottom of the portal as if it were a big window, "It just seems kind of a downside if you ask me. I mean, you're taking over a guy or girl's body for the rest of their life, don't you think it would be nice if they got some say in what the heck you did with their body?"

Fate didn't reply, probably busy fighting Klarion, but Emma wasn't done with him. He'd taken Kaldur from them and refused to let him go, and he'd almost done the same thing with Wally. Just because she'd given herself up to him with full knowledge of the consequences in order to save Kaldur, didn't mean that she necessarily liked the guy.

"You know, now that I think about it, all the stuff a guy gets out of wearing your Helmet and letting you pilot their body around is a downside. I mean, they have no control over their own body anymore, they can't control their own life, they can't eat, can't get any rest, I mean, why would anyone want to put on this old tin can?" Emma scoffed, kicking at the floor with her boot.

Fate shot an ankh at Teekl, but Klarion snatched her out of the way in the nick of time.

"It is an honor to be chosen." Fate informed her, his voice ringing within the helmet.

"Honor. Huh. Do you know what that's worth these days? Right up there next to nothing."

Emma was pretty sure that Fate took the next blow Klarion delivered to them just so she would feel the pain of skimming the top of the lava.

"I mean the least you could do for a person is let them out once in a while," Emma winced, rubbing her shoulder. She couldn't feel any burned skin with her fingertips, but the pain was still there.

"Any trouble with that? You get a host, a kid still gets to live out their life. Just like Kent Nelson." She reasoned. It was a perfectly obvious compromise.

"Still, there is no guarantee that they would don the Helmet again after wearing it a first time." Fate came back.

Emma snorted. "You're paranoid." She told him bluntly. "Still, if you wanted people to line up to wear your helmet, you might want to consider offering benefits, and finding someone who's better at magic than me, or Wally, or even Kaldur."

"It is true you are lacking in the skills of the typical Homo Magi, but your endurance is stronger than the average human." Fate acknowledged.

"Do you mean the wings or the bat-training?" Emma stuck out her bottom lip in a fake pout.

"Tell me child, are you always this insolent?" Fate demanded, finally landing a hit on Witch Boy's familiar. Teekl screeched, and Klarion's form flickered, but he wouldn't give up.

Emma pretended to think about it. "Well, only when my friends are taken from me by stupid omnipotent magical beings from another plane of existence." She admitted.

Fate sighed. "I have seen this before." He grumbled, like a fifth grade teacher fed up with the class's shenanigans.

"You mean with Kent Nelson with Inza?" Emma asked, remembering the stories from Red Tornado.

"Actually, the way Inza Nelson fiercely loved her husband. She had a passionate fire within her, that would never let my old bearer give himself the short end. She managed to convince him that his life was worth more than that."

Emma bit her lip. She'd already admitted it once today, once more wouldn't hurt.

"I do love him. He deserves so much more than what he's been given." She said.

Nabu laughed. Doctor Fate, the Lord of Order, laughed.

"And to think, the poor boy thought he would never find love."

Emma smiled as Kaldur found the strength to break Superboy's protective hold and join he fight. He electrocuted Teekl with the Atlantean sorcery he hadn't used in years, and left Klarion vulnerable, enough so that Doctor Fate could trap Klarion in a golden ankh symbol along with his familiar.

"So now what?" Emma asked. Klarion zapped himself out through a portal, and his lava pocket dimension disappeared, leaving the team emerging from their shelter spots around the now ordinary warehouse they'd come to investigate in the first place.

"You knew the risks when you took on the helmet."

Setting her mouth in a firm line, Emma nodded. "I'm still willing to bear the helmet, so long as another unwilling person won't have to."

Nabu was silent. Outside, Nightwing was incoherently yelling, a mix of almost-threats and pleas for his sister to come back. Emma saw Kaldur, still so tired and exhausted as he leaned on Superboy for support.

"I sense you are more sincere, more desperate than your West friend was when he made this promise. Perhaps... Perhaps you could find someone who is willing."

Emma's head shot up. "And you'd let them out after every...Magic-mission, I guess?" She ventured.

"And you would train them to fight on your team?"

The start of a smile grew on Emma's face. "Yeah, I promise. I'll have Zatanna and Zatara help out too."

She took a deep breath. "I may hate you, Nabs, but I want to keep the Earth safe as much as you do. I promise you, we will find you a willing host. But kicking the Light's butt is still our main priority." She bit her lip, hoping this plea would convince Nabu.

The omnipotent voice gave a grumbling sigh. "I understand."

The focus of the portal-window zoomed in on Kaldur, who watched Doctor Fate painfully.

"I cannot keep apart two who are as bound by Fate as you are." He admitted.

"Wait, what?" Emma asked, but in a blinding flash of light she was taking off the helmet, back in the warehouse with everyone else.

"Nightingale!" Nightwing and Beast Boy were instantly hugging her.

"You're... You're you!" Karen and M'gann were hugging her too.

"Yeah, yeah I am," Emma laughed breathlessly, patting the golden helmet under her arm as they gave her space to breathe. Her legs were shaking like jelly.

"Don't worry, I gotcha," Nightwing pulled her arm over his shoulders, but Emma looked over at Kaldur, in a similar position with Superboy.

"Nabu let you go?" He asked, confused.

"Yeah, so long as I found him a willing host." Nightingale was well aware of the goofy smile wiggling its way onto her face.

She felt another shock of static electricity from the helmet.

"Oh! I almost forgot something!" She gave the helmet to Nightwing to hold for a moment and marched over to Kaldur. Taking his face in her hands, she promptly placed a kiss on his lips.

"Just wanted to make sure I did that before either of us took on another magical artifact." She grinned.

Like the others, Kaldur was shocked for a moment, but then he smiled. Letting go of Superboy, he wrapped his arms around Emma, holding her tight.

"Thank you, Emma. Thank you so much."

Emma hugged him tighter. "You deserve the world, Kal. Don't settle for anything less."

[agent-7-at-your-service]

Plot: Ink-License Renewed - Part 6: We Will Endure!

(( Agent 7, Nakano-868 (mentioned), Mitsuhide-582 (mentioned), Masato, Date-567, and Sanada-600 belong to me

Mercury belongs to @teamuntyblue / @ryan-sign-guy​

Agent J1.0 (Jay H) and Agent J2.0 (Jim H) belong to @ask-the-h-bros​

Agent Firefly (Cameo) belongs to @squished-by-inkbrush​

Lee belongs to @inklingleesquidly​

Ami belongs to @amethystsuki​

Leo belongs to @theoctogellifamily​

Cassi and Vanille (Agent 27) belong to @candiphoenixesartblog / @thephoeninxknightsblog​

Chihiro belongs to @petit-blu-inkling​

Vincent and Beaker Jr belong to @askvincent and @scrushling​

Sylver (Cameo) belongs to @twelvetailedkitsune​

Robin and friends (Cameo) belongs to @alpinesquid​

Jess (Cameo) belongs to @helpful-yellow-inkling​

Depiction of Agent 3 and Agent 4 (cameos) belong to @ofsquidsandkids / @squiidhero​

Blueshift belongs to @myzzy​

Agent 0 belongs to @son-of-joy ))

We Will Endure! We Will Endure! We Will Endure!

Inkopolis Square is full of rioters, chanting this slogan. It was a small group of students, but their message is strong: the witchhunts must stop; the extreme censorship must stop; the discrimination must stop; the mob rule must stop; the Rīkībaketto Party reign must stop.

This sowed the seeds of a rebellion.

In order to explain, Masato “Senshi” Sosharu and the Rīkībaketto Party have already passed a law allowing their new Security department to gain control of the media, seize artists and writers, and detain Off the Hook for a trial. That last part would cancel another Splatfest which angered the fanbase who saw it as the last straw.

Inkopolis Square was given promises from this political party through their acts of justice and prosperity. Those actions and deeds are finally questioned by their witchhunts, extreme censorship, mob rule, discrimination, false accusations, and unlawful arrests and executions. All this brought fear, control, and discontent from those already living in this part of Inkopolis.

At sunset, ink chargers were shot, and there were screams and retaliation. A mob leader named Sanada-600 is already at the scene with his union of gangs and mobsters to turn the riot into a rebellion. However, there were still some civilians in the riot that were already panicking to the point of routing. Those that weren’t part either the rebellion or the riot and those that were bystanders ended up in the mess.

Vincent managed to get Beaker Jr out of the disarray. All he was doing before this sudden battle was strolling with his son. He ended up stumbling into Lee, Ami, Leo, Cassi, and Chihiro in some pharmacy. They got their ink-weapons with them, but they weren’t planning on joining this battle in the Square.

“You guys, too?” Vincent was holding Beaker Jr close who was crying. He tried to calm him down.

“Well, things aren’t looking good out there.” Cassi is with Chihiro, peeking out the window. “We can’t just risk our lives.”

“Who would do this?” Chihiro recognized seeing these Ammonites before. “I thought those ammonites were gone two years ago!”

“Whoever these guys are, those poor guys in the square are going to get hurt,” Leo commented, “There are children still out there.”

Ami has never seen tension rise like this. She’s covering her ears and closing her eyes tightly. Lee was there to calm his friend down, and he didn’t want to be in this mess either.

“We need to get out of here somehow,” Leo stated. She held her roller close.

“We need to get everyone out of here before someone splats forever.” Cassi is already on a phone to call someone. She kept her Gold Dynamo roller in one hand just in case. “Vanille, we got some trouble here in Inkopolis Square...”

Meanwhile, Agent 7 just arrived back in Inkopolis. He was in Calamari County, negotiating with his mother, and later in Octo-Valley having a meeting with his arch-enemy, Calypso.

When he arrived in old Inkopolis Plaza, there were numerous citizens of Inkopolis Square in tents. Sylver and Jess can be seen doing what they can to comfort them. Robin and friends were there to keep their spirits up. Agent Firefly, Agent 3, Agent 4, and Captain Cuttlefish can be seen assuring protection.

Blueshift and Agent 0 approached. Blueshift and Agent 0 tried not to mention Marie or Agent 7′s situation in finding her. However, both of those Agents know something is up.

“Agent 7, thing’s are heating up in Inkopolis Square, what’s going on?” Agent 0 asked.

“Agent 7, what’s going on?” Agent Blueshift.

Agent 7 soon realizes what happened. Masato and the Rīkībaketto Party have brought a rebellion upon themselves.

“It has begun...” Agent 7 passes by the two agents, and they followed him.

Agent 7 approaches Captain Cuttlefish. He salutes. “Captain!”

“Agent 7, did you figure out the whereabouts of my grand-daughter?” Cuttlefish asked.

Agent 7 shook his head. “Close, but I’ll explain later. Right now, there might be some innocent lives still in Inkopolis Square.”

“I already sent some back-up to execute a rescue mission,” Cuttlefish replied, “It’s not too late to follow them.”

“Is Agent 1 with them?” Agent 7 needed to tell her something.

“She refuses to join... I’m sorry.” Cuttlefish couldn’t explain.

“...Alright.” Agent 7 nods and looks to Blueshift and Agent 0. “You two, with me.”

As Agent 7 superjumps to Inkopolis Square, Agent 0 and Blueshift followed, but each shared a look of concern relating to Marie. They want to know what Agent 7 has found out about Marie and her kidnapping.

As the battle in Inkopolis Square intensifies, there were already Agents in the premises, taking cover. This is the rescue team, made up of Bigfin Splatoon, two agents from  Squidforce Splatters named Agent J1.0 and Agent J2.0, and an Agent named Agent 27.

They manage to detect a number of civilians who got caught up in the war in two locations in Inkopolis Square, so they decided to split up to rescue them. Bigfin Splatoon went off to rescue civilians near the stores of Inkopolis Square. The rest handles rescuing a few civilians in a pharmacy. Agent 27 manages to talk with those civilians through a communicator.

“Cassi, are you there?” Agent 27 managed to get her call. She was carrying a hero roller at the moment.

“We’re over here.” Cassi is at the pharmacy’s window, waving to her.

“Who’s in there with you.” Agent 27 is prepared to go towards the pharmacy. It was just across a street.

“Well, there’s Lee, Ami, Leo, Vincent, his kid, Chihiro... and me,” Cassi replied, “We were holding out here for a while because of the fight.”

“We know that, and that’s why Cuttlefish sent some agents here,” Agent 27 replied back.

“Finally, some rescue!” Leo walks over to the window.

Ink-shots suddenly fired on Agent 27′s party, and both everyone had to take cover. Ammonite Ashigaru were pointing their modified bamboozlers.

“Those things got us pinned!” Agent J2.0 stated.

“We can’t get into that pharmacy with those chargers shooting,” Agent J1.0 commented.

Agent 27 had an idea. “Cassi, do any of you guys have your turf wars weapons with you?”

“All except, Vincent and Beaker Jr.” Cassi was looking at everyone in the pharmacy.

“Good, here is what I need you guys to do,” Agent 27 ordered, “we’re going to draw all the firepower, and once they’re exposed, you guys will have to attack them. Afterward, make a run for it. We’ll cover you guys.”

And with that, Agents 27, J1.0, and J2.0 began taking all the fire, distracting those ammonites for Cassi and a few others to use their ink-weapons to splat the enemy. Afterward, they started running to safety with agents covering them.

Suddenly, seven ammonites on horseback delivered a surprise attack on the group. However, they were stopped by three more Agents: Agent 7, Blueshift, and Zero. The ammonite cavalry retreated to join the fight in the square. Agent 7 approaches Agent 27, J1.0, and J2.0 Agent J1.0 and J2.0 saluted. The others know about Agent 7 and were kind of glad he’s here.

“This is it, three agents? Where are the others?” Agent 7 questioned.

“Some are at the stores, rescuing the rest of the civilians,” Agent 27 replied.

Agent 7 sighs and gave them an order. “Get these guys out of there, and get word to Cuttlefish that we need agents to support this rebellion.”

Agent 27 nods and leads her party and the civilians back to safety in Inkopolis Square. Before Agent 7 can continue, Blueshift stops him.

“Agent 7, Zero and I need to speak with you.” Blueshift knew they can’t just talk on a battlefield, but it was a bit urgent. “Something about Marie.”

Agent 7 stopped. He’s listening.

“...What did you find out here when you were searching for Marie?” Agent 0 asked.

Agent 7 didn’t respond for a moment but then replied: “This is between us and us only. I already told enough people about it. So here is what I know, and it has to do with Masato and his political power.”

And he told them the truth about Nakano-868.

Minutes later, Blueshift and Agent 0 would be heading straight for the city hall, leaving Agent 7 to continue rescuing civilians at the Square. The fight was spreading from there all the way to the City Hall where Masato and his party resides.

Blueshift and Agent 0 had a small task from Agent 7: To retrieve whatever intel they can find from the Masato’s office. With the fighting going on, the two manage to break into the city hall and infiltrate the offices. When Blueshift and Agent 0 find Masato’s office, they began searching only to find nothing but empty files and drawers.

But then they heard a groan and a collapse. They leave office to check it out, and they find an injured Mercury. She has a bundle of papers in her hands.

An ammonite in blue and gold armor stood over her, carrying two ink katanas. The banner he carried had the sigil of sparrows and bamboo. Next to that ammonite is an inkling with cyan hair and light skin, wearing a black suit, brown tie, white gloves, and a short top hat -- this is Masato. He smoked a cigar.

“Greetings, spies,” Masato began, “I recognize you two. The Vigilante that the Commodore has hunted for years and the Agent who whiled the Commodore’s retainers.”

“That’s behind us now.” Blueshift has his Quasar Blade ready.

“Why did you do all this to Inkopolis Square?” Agent 0 demanded.

“I’m doing this for the people. For Justice. For the greater good. I’m doing this to make Inkopolis Square prosper.” Masato takes the cigar out of his mouth and blows some smoke. “It’s all that my party believes in.”

“Through witchhunts, crackdowns, and control?” Blueshift carefully stepped forward.

“Date-567,” Masato ordered.

The ammonite in blue and gold armor points two ink katanas at Mercury’s neck.

“One more step and she’ll have no head,” Masato threatened before turning around. “Get those papers if you dare. I have work to do.” He leaves.

Agent 0 takes out his shield and the flaming katana, and he charges at Date-567. The ammonite had to give up decapitating Mercury to guard. Blueshift quickly runs over to pull Mercury away from Date.

“Get these to Sev...,” Mercury mumbled, “He had to see this...” She passes out.

Blueshift gently places her down and gets up to face Date-567.

((BGM: https://youtu.be/xlYCxbBZUCY ))

“It’s time I do a favor for Mitsuhide, Vigilante and Agent.” Date-567 sharpens his katanas, smearing them with ink. “You’re deaths shall be my ascension.”

Blueshift and Agent 0 took the fighting to the main halls. Despite the legislators still in the building, the fight didn’t disrupt the sessions.

All can be seen is flecks of ink and sparks lighting the dark. Date-567 danced like a madman, deflecting the attacks, letting blade meet blade, and ink meet ink. Each clash of blades leave a few drops of ink covering the floors and walls.

Date-567 would do a few flips and quick moves to maneuver the slashes and thrusts. Blueshift and Agent 0 were coordinating every attack they can throw at the ammonite, and the only damages they dealt was on the armor and not the ammonite.

The fight was soon brought to the upper levels of the city hall. The blades kept clashing, and more ink was covering the floors like in Turf wars.

Soon, the fight stopped for a moment. Agent 0 and Blueshift circle Date-567 like predators surrounding their prey. Agent 0 and Blueshift made some eye contact for a moment, each getting the idea that they need to find a way to defeat him.

Agent 0 decided to give it his all and threw all his attacks on the ammonite. Blueshift stepped back to focus and figure out how to defeat him. There were are few damages to the armor, but Date-567 kept an eye for an attack on heavily damaged parts of his armor. Blueshift then figured out the truth: Date-567’s armor is not as tough as it looks.

Blueshift charged at Date-567 only to end up thrown down to the main floor below. Date-567 then threw Agent 0 down. This didn’t cause the two agents to splat.

Date-567 looked down on them, and he sheathed his katanas.

“You’re not yourselves since you defeated the Commodore’s men two years ago! Look are you now!” Date-567 mocked. “Masato will get what he wants out of the Square even if he has to control--”

Mercury, who has finally regained consciousness turns him around, pulls out his katanas, and stabs the ammonite with his own katanas. This time, Date-567 splats, and he will remain dead with the ink-puddles left like carrion.

((End of BGM))

Minutes later, Blueshift, Agent 0, and Mercury, began making their escape before more ammonites come. They would regroup. They didn’t share any sign of saying “Thank you” or “Your welcome”. There’s still a rebellion going on.

The papers that Mercury managed to retrieve all connected to one of Mitsuhide’s goals: A wedding day before the Vernal Equinox. But there was more to the wedding, and Masato is taking advantage of it. 

They want to go home.

[reidimagines]

Prompt #28 w/ Spencer

I know you didn’t ask for this, but I made it a crossover with Supernatural. It is a little bit longer because of that, but I hope you like it nonetheless. 

#28: “Go to Hell.” “Already been but thanks for the invite”

The BAU team had often seen you around cases, and it was soon they made a link. Yet, the wrong one. You saved their ass without them knowing it, and you got arrested. Not that you really cared, you would be free soon. 

You were glad when the seemingly youngest one (and cutest one) joined you in the room. 

“If I had known I would be interrogated by someone like you,” You began, leaning in with a grin. “I would have dug up my sexy underwear.” You winked. 

If he cared, he was good at hiding it. “What were you doing in the crime scene?” His voice was calm, but you knew that wouldn’t be the case for long. 

“Last time I checked, it was just a building with more houses.” You leaned back in the uncomfortable chair. “But if you really want to know, I was buying sex toys from an illegal dealer with one eye.” 

The agent, Dr. Spencer Reid, blinked a few times. “Right. What were you doing here,” he placed a picture of another crime scene on the table. “About two months ago.” 

“Honey, I live nearby.” 

“And here.” He placed a few other pictures on the table. “Or here, or here.” 

“As far as you know, I am rich and have more houses.” You smirked. 

“Can you explain why we can’t find anything under your name? Where is your ID?” He started losing his patience, which was horribly cute. 

“I’m not from here.” You leaned back forwards, shamelessly flirting with him. “But for you, I would consider staying another night.” 

Dr. Reid stood up, moving to the door. You guessed someone whispered something in his ear. “Bye, Dr. Reid.” You waved after him. 

You were alone, but knew every move was followed. You started humming a song, your teasing glare never leaving the ‘mirror’ in front of you. 

A darker skinned man came in, and your flirtatious smile crept back on your face. 

“Well hello, sexy beast.” You just didn’t know shame anymore. 

“We found your car.” even though that was hard to believe, your face fell for a second before you laughed. 

“How embarrassing. I haven’t cleaned her in a while.” You smiled. “Sorry you had to see that much dust on a black car. Probably a male pet peeve, am I right.” 

You had a black car, but you hoped he would think this was just a trick. However, he didn’t bite. 

“Can you tell me what you think we found?” You raised an eyebrow. “It can help you.” 

“Sweet cakes,” You leaned back. “You couldn’t have found my car. I’m not stupid.” 

“We aren’t, either.” 

“In that case, you should know that you can’t hold me without evidence.” You gave him a sympathetic smile. “And I think you have nothing except coincidence. That means I’ll be gone before sundown.” 

“We can hold you for 24 hours.” He reminded you. 

“Believe me when I say I’ll be home before that ends.” You winked and leaned back. 

You were right, an hour later you were on your way out. With a last wink pointed towards Dr. Reid, you glided through the doors. You didn’t hear how they shook their heads, annoyed that they couldn’t prove anything against you. 

When you jumped into your car, you were glad they hadn’t found the car. The weapons would be enough to put you in jail. 

You hoped it would be a while before you ran into them again, but it wasn’t. You never got what you wished for. You were on a job when the BAU decided to show up. 

And of course they had to walk by when you were just about to beak into the crime scene. 

You cursed under your breath before you dove into a bush. It was childish, but they almost knew too much. They would figure out that it wasn’t a person who killed the victim, but a spirit. 

It was sunset, and you wondered why they weren’t going back. The spirit would soon appear. 

“We should do one last check.” An older man said, gesturing for them to go inside. Even though you didn’t really liked them, you didn’t want them dead. You were ready to blow your cover, maybe hold them back, when you realized they were already inside. You rushed to the door, telling them to get out before a crazy spirit came. But the door blew too, and you knew that they were in the hands of the spirit. 

You groaned, turning around to go to your car, gathering as many weapons as your bag could carry. They would need some weapons, too. You took some iron knives and extra rock salt. 

Breaking the door open would be hard, but you had done it before. You got ready to kick the door open, which surprisingly worked. The door fell closed with a loud bang behind you. You didn’t saw the agents, you started looking for them.  

You didn’t make a sound, but they were also silent. You got thrown to the ground by q female figure. 

“Cassie?” You saw Agent Prentiss her black hair and smiled. 

“You can call me Y/N.” She pushed the woman off and stood up. “It’s not what you think, alright. put down your guns I’m here to save you.” 

“Is that why you brought guns?” Agent Morgan said. You rolled your eyes. 

“Obviously. You can’t kill it with a regular bullet.” Their guns didn’t lower. “Alright, listen up motherfuckers. You let me do my thing so you can all see daylight again or we all die.” 

“We can handle the unsub. Don’t worry.” 

“Oh, how do you kill a vengeful spirit?” You placed your hands on your hips. “Tell me.” 

“A ghost?” 

“I don’t like that word.” You glanced at Dr. Reid. “But if you will, yes. They are real. So are demons. Werewolves. Vamps.” You shrugged. “Besides, I couldn’t kill anyone with my bullets. It’s salt.” 

Spencer leaned down to check. “She’s telling the truth.”

“That doesn’t mean there is an actual ghost.” You rolled your eyes and walked to your bag, a gun was pointed at you again. 

“So you’re a ghost hunter?” 

“Oh please, I hunt more than just ghost. And you better put that gun away, mister.” You pointed towards Derek. “I am here to save your fucking ass.” 

He looked extremely annoyed with you. “Why can’t we kick the doors open? What’s going on?”

“Strange ghost power.” You took the salt out of your bag. “Move.” 

“What are you doing?” Someone asked. 

You sighed. “I can’t explain everything in one night, but here we go. Salt stops spirits.” You kept it short, drawing a big circle. 

“There, stay in the circle.” You pushed them in. “Don’t move. I’ll take care of the spirit.” You handed Derek and Emily a shotgun and some salt. “Don’t miss.” You grinned. 

“Wait!” Spencer called after you. “How are you going to stop him?”

“There is something in this house that is his connection. I salt and burn it and he’s gone.” 

“You can use us, right? I mean, we are profilers after all. It has to be something special to him?” 

You got curious and nodded. “Yes, his name is John Greenwall. He has been dead for six years. Killed by an axe, his brother lived here until he died. Now the Ross family is killed.” 

“It-It had to be something important to him, right? Like, a book or something?” You wondered why they believed you without seeing the ghost. Then it hit you: This was a distraction. It was too late, the blonde lady had thrown herself onto you. You didn’t want to hit her, but as she was straddling you, you had to kick her off. The other members had drawn their guns, but so had you. 

And for once the spirit had a good timing. He appeared to your left, Hotch noticing it first. He shot, but it didn’t matter. You loaded your shotgun and shot, the ghost vanishing. 

“Do you believe me now?” You pushed them back towards the circle. “In the circle!” You reloaded your gun. 

“Are you willing to help now?” 

Spencer seemed to be in deep thought. “I remember reading his brother’s file. A-a painting! He refused to give it away!” 

The spirit came back, and before you could shoot, Derek had. You grinned at him. 

“A painting. It’s possible. Okay, I do the attic, someone gotta look here.” 

JJ raised her hand. “Give me a gun. I will.” And so you left. You only ran into the spirit once. You didn’t find the painting. You ran back downstairs after hearing gunshots. However, you found JJ holding the painting. 

“We found it.” She breathed out with a faint smile. You grinned. 

“Alright, get back in the circle and make sure he won’t attack me.” You placed the painting in the middle of the room and salt and burned it. You held your breath. 

“I hope this worked because otherwise, we have a long night to go.” You were already quite tired. 

You tried to open the door, which worked. You sighed in relief. “Alright guys, case solved.” You gathered your weapons and smiled. “It was my pleasure, yet I hope I never run into you again.” 

That was a lie. Even though they almost shot you, they hadn’t. That was better than your last friends had done. 

Spencer Reid still had questions, and he was the first one to be outside, hoping to catch a glimpse of you. 

“So you’re just going to leave?” 

“What else am I supposed to do?” You smiled and pushed your bag in your car. “There are other people who need me.” 

“You aren’t even going to stay the night?” 

“Nope.” You wiggled your eyebrows. “Unless you want me to.” 

“Go to hell.” He chuckled. 

“Already been but thanks for the invite.” You answered. He didn’t know you were serious. 

“What if we run into a ghost again?”

“You know what to do. Salt also helps with demons, remember that.” You plopped down in you and rolled the window down. “If it’s bad enough you’ll see me again. And if that happens,” You smirked. “Then I’ll take you out for dinner.” 

You drove off, hoping you’d see them soon again, because then, you and Spencer would have dinner together. 

[mrshopkirk]

Dream on

Characters: Steve, Bucky, Sam, Wanda, Scott (team Cap)

Summary: After Steve rescued his teammates from the Raft, they all went into hiding in Wakanda. When Bucky comes out of cryo, they decide it’s time to go back out into the world. Each is refusing to go their own way, deciding sticking together is the best move but in doing so they draw the unwanted attention of the government.

Warnings: angst, violence, blood, injuries, guilt, swearing

Word count: 1972

A/N: This fic is based on the song “Dream on” by Aerosmith for @hellomissmabel 1k celebration shuffle challenge. I’m so sorry it’s not fluff but I hope you like it anyway. Thank you @abovethesmokestacks for proofreading. I love you, sweetheart. Feedback is appreciated.

*MASTERLIST*

How did we get here? This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. I didn’t know what to expect when we left Wakanda but this isn’t it.

I look around. Debris is falling all around us. The sound of war is deafening but the sound of the innocent being hunted down is the worst I’ve heard. It makes it hard to remember the sound of laughter I heard only yesterday when Wanda told a joke that had everybody in tears, tears of joy for the first time in years. At least for Bucky and I. Bucky had doubled over in laughter instead of his body collapsing after taking a hit or a bullet. A day. That’s all we had. One lousy day after leaving the safety of Wakanda. They had surrounded us immediately. It seemed they brought the entire army. There are so many. They’re everywhere and they have us cornered in a building that’s being shot to pieces.

Every time when I look in the mirror All these lines on my face getting clearer The past is gone It went by, like dusk to dawn Isn't that the way Everybody's got the dues in life to pay

“Steve!”

I try to locate where the voice is coming from or who it is. The ringing sound in my ears doesn’t stop and I briefly wonder if they have developed a new weapon that targets my enhanced hearing. It’s like a million church bells at once.

“STEVE!”

Amidst the settling grey flecks of dust, smoke of a nearby fire curls around a hunched down figure dressed in black and a pair of blue eyes staring at me in horror. I see his mouth moving but my body doesn’t. My legs aren’t injured but they refuse to move. I sees the lines on Bucky’s face. The wrinkles I noticed when they were frozen behind the glass capsule he was kept in. It’s where I stood every day whether it was in silence or talking non-stop about everything and nothing. Wrinkles that weren’t there when I last saw him as a young Bucky, his face smooth as a snowflake when he fell. I had wondered where they came from, what horrors and pain etched those lines on his face. When I look in the mirror I see those lines on my face too, like cuts and scars of a lifetime of fighting, seeing things I shouldn’t have seen, doing things no man should do, of loving and losing. But that past is gone. It went by like dusk to dawn.

“Steve!”

Another voice calls my name. This time it’s closer by. I squint my eyes, trying to see who it is. Everybody in life has dues to pay. I certainly have. So has Bucky. Sam too. All soldiers do. But not her. The way she’s lying there, her face is soft, beautiful, like she’s asleep. Why should she have to pay? The only thing she has to pay for is for wanting revenge on her brother, for following me. Her youth was stolen from her as was her family, her country. Now her long chestnut hair is draped over her face like a silk scarf. A calloused hand cups her face to look at her. I see his mouth moving. I know he’s yelling at her. The blood trickling over her face is his. He’s bleeding, hurt, injured. But he still breathes.

“Steve! We have to get her out of here! They shot straight through her stomach!” Clint looks back at her. “Wanda? Wanda, please? What the fuck is wrong with you Maximoff’s huh? You’re all going to take a bullet? You’re just like your brother, aren’t you?” His tears are staining her face. “Goddammit, Wanda. Stay with me. Don’t you dare do this! STEVE!”

“I’m not a fucking doctor! What do you want me to do?” It’s a cheap shot. I know that but it’s all I got. I have no shield, no gun, no uniform. Left my courage in Wakanda too so it seems.

I know nobody knows Where it comes and where it goes I know it's everybody sin You got to lose to know how to win

They had targeted Wanda first. We knew defeat when it stared us in the eye and we laid down our weapons hoping to bargain for our lives. But Wanda, no matter how sweet and gentle, can’t lay down her arms. They just shot her in cold blood. She had clutched her stomach and dropped to her knees, hands red with blood. Nailed to our spot, we had watched the scene in disbelief when they opened fire on us too. I dove to the right. Bucky, Sam, Scott and Clint to the left while Clint dragged Wanda with him.

Half my life Is books written pages Live and learn from fools and From sages You know it's true, oh All these things you do come back to you

I should have known. I curse myself. For crying out loud, Rogers! You should have known they weren’t going to take any of you alive. You fool. Haven’t you learned anything in those 100 years? I think back at the Smithsonian, the book they sell there, ‘The life of Captain America,’ and wonder if they’ll include this end or if it will be just half of my life in there. The half they can use.

Will they include Scott Lang, father of little Cassie? Will they tell the world that he refused to leave our side? Will they tell the tale of how he keeps telling Bucky stories about Cassie to keep himself from drifting off and not coming back? Will the book tell how Bucky presses down on the wound on Scott’s leg trying to stop the bleeding ignoring the gunshot wound in his own arm? Will they dedicate a chapter to the man called Sam Wilson whose leg looks broken in three different places but has served his country in more ways than one? Will they write how Clint Barton gave his all time after time? Will they even mention Wanda? I hope they do. Maybe people will learn from our story.

I squeeze my eyes shut and cover my ears, trying to will the soldiers away. Maybe it’s just a dream or maybe it’s my worst nightmare come true.

Dream on Dream until your dreams come true

Surrendering isn’t an option. They made that very clear by taking down Wanda. I tried again but they declined my offer to take me and let them go. They even declined Bucky’s surrender saying that ship has sailed long ago. It’s all of us and rather dead then alive. Without a word we seem to have agreed that we’ll all go out the same way we came in, together, and right now we’re well on our way to meet our maker. I pat my pockets in one last desperate attempt to save their lives or at least one of them and put all my hope in the little outdated device in my hands.

“I’m sorry. There are no words for how sorry I am. Leave me. Let them have me.” I suck in a deep breath. “Even Bucky if you have to. But please, save them. Please, come for them.” I’m sure I have never sounded more defeated in my life. “Hello? Hello?” Nothing.

So this is how it feels, how it feels to be turned your back on. I had hoped that the laughter we shared and the tears we shed together were enough to come for today. But it’s okay. It’s one of my dues to pay. I lived a life of no regrets until today. This is my biggest regret, looking at my friends, blood and tears flowing together. A sharp pain in my face and lips harshly bring me back to reality, a reality in which the screams sound louder than before, in which there is more blood than a few moments ago, more gunfire, more pieces of the building that was supposed to give us shelter crumbling and exposing us more and more. I look at all of them trapped on the other side. We all know. This is it. It’s all we have left of today and today is all we have left.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble but I know they can’t hear me although they seem to understand me perfectly. Bucky winks at me, one final lopsided grin on his face. Scott slowly turns his head from Bucky’s lap and gives me a joking thumbs up. “Still a big fan of you, Captain,” he whispers in a rare quiet moment. Clint is crying with a lifeless Wanda in his arms, rocking her back and forth. Sam is slumped against a wall, his leg outstretched, a bone sticking out.

Sing with me, sing for the year Sing for the laughter, sing for the tear Sing with me, just for today Maybe tomorrow, the good Lord will take you away

The earth trembles and I look around from incoming tanks. It’s overkill, I think, but who am I these days. Scott points to something in the air above him and I see something come in what looks like a drone. Jesus Christ, tanks and drones. They probably only want to find teeth left of us. Loud clangs and thuds surround us. The earth trembles again and then again and again. The building collapses. There are shouts and screams. I hear my name. I hear everyone’s name. I scream everyone’s name. Where are they? I can’t see anything with all this dust. The rubble on the ground cuts into my hands when I try to crawl to where I saw them last. I try and locate Bucky’s screams. The noise seems to get louder and louder. Screams of the other soldiers mix with these of mine. Gunfire is coming from all sides now merged with blasts from whatever new weapon they brought in. I see huge figures everywhere but blood is trickling down my forehead and in my eyes. The last I see are lights shining in my eyes and cold metal gripping me and then it’s over. Is this what dying feels like? Flying? I doubt I’m going to heaven but I welcome the feeling with open arms.

I open my eyes and see a dim light shining instead of the blinding beams when I last closed my eyes. I feel soft, clean sheets under my hands instead of rubble. I feel stitches and gauze on my face instead of blood. I hear the soft bleeps of a machine instead of screams. Tears make their way down my face when I see the man next to me.

“You came.”

“I always come. Just ask the ladies.”

The lame joke isn’t worth the pain when I chuckle but the fact that he’s here is worth everything. I take a deep breath and brace myself.

“Where,” I clear my throat. “Are they…”

“It was a close call for Scott. And Wanda,” his eyes drift away, “she pulled through but we had to get her back three times during surgery. She’s a tough one, that one.” I guess he notices the look on my face. I had offered him my life but also Bucky’s. Has he taken me up on that offer?

“He’s here too. Room next door.”

I sigh in relief. “Thank you, Tony.” I reach out for his hand but it’s too far away. He hesitates but bridges the gap at last. “What now? They’ll come for you too now.”

“I lost a lot of suits getting you guys out of there. So I don’t know, Rogers. But we’re here, aren’t we?” He rubs his face and sighs. “Maybe the good Lord has other plans for us tomorrow but today? Today we’re still here.”

TAGLIST:   @callamint  @laterthantherabbit   @aubzylynn  @you-and-bucky   @harleyqueen7  @beccaanne814-blog  @hardcorehippos  @ursulaismymiddlename  @buckyywiththegoodhair  @hellomissmabel  @blacwings-and-bucky-barnes  @abovethesmokestacks   @eve1978  @winterboobaer  @howiseethesethings @melconnor2007 @s8sense  @50shadesofyes  @amrita31199  @emilyevanston @thatawkwardtinyperson  

BROKEN TAGS: @brokennoone  @10kindsofderp  (sorry girls)

[miitgaanar]

Dare

“Split up.  He’s after me, not you.  I’ll draw him off.”

Cassie did as she was told, running down the street as Steve Rogers ran in the opposite direction.  Why shouldn’t she do as he says?  He was Captain America, after all.  But now, as her feet pounded the pavement, her breathing harsh and ragged, she could hear another set of much heavier and faster footfalls behind her and gaining fast.

Maybe she should’ve stuck with Cap.

A casual lunch with Steve had quickly descended into chaos when a man dressed in black shot out the floor to ceiling window of the corner café, crashing right through the bullet hole-riddled surface and peppering the patrons with thick shards of glass.  He landed heavily on the glass covered marble floor, his combat boots oddly silent as he stalked through the throng of panicked customers.  Steve moved fast, quickly shielding Cassie from any flying debris, but as he tugged her up from where she had dropped to the floor for cover, her eyes locked with their assailant’s.  Had Steve not been pulling her along to get them out the side door of the café, she was sure that haunted gaze would have kept her frozen where she laid.

Steve didn’t exactly have time to explain as they ran through the streets, but he seemed strangely calm about all of this.  He didn’t even seem that surprised by what was going on.  In fact, if she didn’t know any better, she would have sworn he seemed a bit relieved.  He barely gave her time to really think about it, pushing her down a side street to get as far away from the pandemonium as possible.  She certainly wasn’t going to stick around to find out how he knew this guy was after him, she could find that out later when all of this was over.

At least, that was the plan before she realized halfway down that block that Steve wasn’t the one being pursued.

Panic quickly turned her blood to ice as she ran, making her head a hazy mess as she tried to think of a way to lose him.  She was by no means even a recreational runner and was working off of pure adrenaline to keep herself moving.  This guy would catch up with her in mere seconds if she didn’t think of something fast. 

The sound of a car speeding down the street caught her attention and, without allowing herself to give it much thought, quickly bolted across the street and in front of the speeding car.  The driver slammed on his brakes and leaned on the horn as he came to a screeching halt, yelling a string of curses out his window in her general direction—but abruptly fell silent once her pursuer decided to use the hood of his car as a springboard to keep his momentum going.

The stunt hadn’t stopped him like she’d hoped, but it had bought her a precious few seconds as she rounded the corner of the block, spying the concrete dugout in the front yard of someone’s home that led down to their basement.  Feeling as if her lungs were a breath away from collapsing, she quickly hopped the chest height iron fence separating their yard from the sidewalk and nearly fell in her rush to get down the stairs that led to the basement door.  She tried the knob, cursing softly when it wouldn’t budge, only just barely resisting the urge to bang on the door and yell for help.  

Out of time and options, she crouched at the bottom of the stairs, leaning back against the metal door to take some of the weight off of her burning calves.  She pressed a hand tightly over her mouth in an attempt to muffle her desperate gasps for air, panicked tears blurring her vision.  Her lungs burned in protest, her thigh muscles twitching with the effort to hold her weight as she peaked over the edge of the concrete to see the sidewalk, just in time for her pursuer to come into view.  

Cassie hadn’t gotten a good look at him back at the café, but now she could say with some certainty that she was in deep, deep shit.  His dark, shoulder length hair was disheveled, his cold, calculating eyes darting quickly from one side of the street to the other as he looked for any sign of her.  His scruff covered jaw was clenched tightly in concentration as he scanned the area, his lips set in a firm, thin line, his nostrils flaring slightly with each breath.  She noticed that he wasn’t even winded from his pursuit, and she wasn’t sure if it was her own fault for being out of shape, or if she was dealing with someone on par with Steve.  The very thought caused the knot in her stomach to tighten sharply.

She sank down a bit further on her haunches as she watched him, sweat soaking the hair at the base of her scalp and tickling the skin.  He turned sharply to look behind him, causing her lungs to seize up in her chest as she caught a glimpse of his left arm.  The sun gleamed off of metal where there should have been flesh, the soft whir of grinding gears reaching her ears as the arm moved.  

What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck where the fuck is Steve what the fuck—

In one swift, sudden movement, he leapt over the fence that separated them.  Before she could so much as open her mouth to let out a scream, he was already upon her, a metal hand pressed firmly over her mouth as the other pressed the edge of a cool, sharp dagger to the sensitive flesh of her throat.  She whimpered softly against the cold metal hand, her back pressed painfully hard against the door as he crammed himself into the tight space.  Crouching above her, he pressed the knife just a fraction further into her delicate flesh, stopping just short of drawing blood.  A warning.

He did nothing for a moment, merely sat there looming awkwardly over her in the small dugout of concrete steps, but the fast approaching footsteps made it clear why he had hid with her instead of dragging her out of her hiding place.

And if the footsteps didn’t do the job, then the voice that accompanied them did.

“Cass?  Cass, you here?  Shit…”

Cassie’s entire body tightened at the sound of Steve’s voice, and her captor knew it, felt it.  His ice-blue gaze immediately locked with hers and he pressed himself further against her, his forehead nearly flush against her own.  He knew she couldn’t get out from under him, knew he had effectively silenced her with that knife pressed harshly against the warm flesh of her throat—and yet those haunting eyes dared her to do something, anything, to get Steve’s attention.  They dared her to defy him, dared her to let fear control her, dared her to fight back.

They dared her to face him on her own.

Trembling, Cassie kept her gaze firm, refusing to look away as he stared her down.  Despite her better judgement, despite the rational part of her brain screaming for her to make noise, to bang on the metal door, to do something to get Steve’s attention, she remained still, silent, staring down the man who held her captive.

His brow twitched upward slightly at her silent defiance, the first flicker of emotion she had seen on his face since she had locked eyes with him back in the café.

With another muttered curse, she heard Steve run down the street, still intent on saving her from whatever hell he had unwittingly unleashed upon her—and she felt her captor’s body relax slightly, the muscles that had been pulled taut allowed a moment’s reprieve.  

Her own chest tightened with every footfall that took Steve further and further away from her.  By the time he was far enough away that she could no longer hear his shoes against the pavement, her chest felt empty and hollow, her throat painfully dry as she met the hard gaze of her captor, realizing with a sharp pang of panic that she had just signed her own death warrant.  And for what?  To prove to the man who practically straddled her hips that she wasn’t as afraid of him as he thought.

Boy, what a load of shit that is.

After he was sure that Steve was gone and was not returning, he eased himself off of her, pulling her to her feet, but kept her back pressed against the metal door, his gaze locked with her own.  He slowly removed the metal hand from her mouth—the knife still pressed harshly against her throat—moving it down to her shoulder to hold her in place.  His grip was firm, but, surprisingly enough, not painful.

“Why?” the stranger finally rasped, his voice painfully hoarse with what sounded like severe disuse.  “He could've saved you.  Why didn’t you try to get his attention?”

Cassie swallowed hard, her breathing rapid and slightly panicked as she dared a glance toward the street, hoping against hope to see Steve double back. “You would have killed me.”

He continued to stare down at her, that metal hand suddenly knotting itself in her hair and tugging harshly, a soft whimper slipping from her lips as he forced her to meet his gaze.  “That’s not why.”

Cassie’s blood roared in her ears, her hands fruitlessly reaching up to tug at his arm in an attempt to get him to loosen his grip.  Strangely enough, his grip did loosen on its own.  He didn’t release her, but it was enough to keep the pained tears that welled up in her eyes from falling. 

She blinked up at him in confusion, stunned into brief silence before remembering his question, his demand.  “Because he knows you.  He said you were after him.  That’s why I ran the other way.”  

His eyes softened, widening a fraction, his nostrils flaring as his jaw clenched and his grip on her hair tightened again, causing a pained hiss to slip through her teeth.  The hand that still held the knife to her throat trembled ever so slightly, and Cassie dared to speak again, her voice seeming to break him out of whatever reverie he had slipped into.  “Why did you come after me?”

He sighed sharply through his nose, finally removing the knife from her throat and sheathing it somewhere at his side.  “He protected you at the café.  He pulled you out of there to get you to safety.  You meant more to him than stopping me did at that moment.”  He paused, seeming to gauge her reaction before continuing.  “You know him.  And I need someone that knows him.”

Cassie quirked an eyebrow in confusion as he released his grip on her hair, only for it to grasp at her forearm and tug her forward as he climbed the stairs, quickly scanning the street for anyone as he pulled her in front of him, her arm twisted harshly behind her back.

Biting her lip, she dared to ask one more question, one that she had a feeling would explain everything about her current predicament. “Who are you?”

The man behind her tensed as he pushed her forward, his grip on her arm painfully tight.  “That’s what I need you to help me find out.”