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skiller0dani · 3 years

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As You Go | Ethan Nestor

M A S T E R L I S T YouTube Masterlist

angsty smut requests info

I’ve always had a thing for Ethan. So I decided to incorporate him, hope you guys like it! If there are any other YouTubers you want me to write about lmk! I promise I’m going to start chipping away at my requests, I love you all. I had to get this out of my system, because this song (and this one too) hella inspired me to write a piece based on it. also this gif is doing things to me. look at Ethan. his chest, his legs, his arms, his e v e r y t h i n g.

also I kept the smut short bc I’m not sure how people will respond to it, if you guys like it I’ll write more (much longer) Ethan smut.

Mark promised to give Ethan the space he needed, but he just couldn’t help reaching out. While what happened wasn’t necessarily Mark’s fault, Ethan’s anger was being directed at both you and Mark. The guilt that had made a home in Mark’s chest was enough to cripple him, and he was borderline desperate for Ethan’s forgiveness. He texted, he called, he even emailed Ethan. Despite Amy advising Mark to give Ethan the space he desperately needed, he just couldn’t. In reality, it truly wasn’t Mark’s fault- but he still feels responsible for what you did that night. Ethan had shut himself in his house, and Mark hadn’t heard from him in nearly a week. It was killing him. It was just a mistake, it didn’t mean anything. At least it sure as hell didn’t mean anything to Mark, how could Ethan believe Mark wanted it? He has Amy- he loves Amy.

��I have to go see him.” Mark says decisively as he reaches for his car keys. But Amy reaches for them first.

“He doesn’t want to see you.” The truth of it stings, it causes Mark to flinch.

“I don’t care, he only knows what he saw.” Mark snaps, the pain from the memory flooding back in.

“And what he saw traumatized him Mark, you need to give him time. He’ll come around. I told Y/N the same thing.” Amy explains, a firm look in her eyes. Mark felt emotion swell in his throat as tears misted in his eyes. “Think about how he must be feeling, he trusted the two of you more than anyone else. Ethan was never worried about leaving you and Y/N alone and then-”

“She kissed me!” Mark cried desperately, leaning against the kitchen counter. “He has to know that and I don’t think he does.” Amy feels for Mark, she does. She knows it wasn’t his fault, but it still hurts. It’s the pain that leads Amy to protect Ethan above everyone else. The pain he must be feeling right now, Amy tears up thinking about how hurt he must be. She turns, “just leave him alone. Let him come to you.” She then saunters off, keys in hand. The last thing he needs is Mark at his doorstep.

Ethan sits curled on the couch, his knees brought up to his chest. He has so many questions, and he’s too damn afraid to find out the answers. How long has that been going on? How long have you been into Mark? Was your entire relationship a lie? Were you just trying to get closer to Mark? Why didn’t Mark tell him? He should have seen it coming, why would anyone choose him when he’s friends with Mark? Pretending to love him gave you the perfect opportunity to get closer to Mark. The numbness of this entire week is what Ethan was the most surprised by, he expected to cry, to scream, to break everything in sight. But he didn’t- he sat and he did nothing. Said nothing. Went nowhere, he barely even ate.

Everything about that night replays in Ethan’s mind. It was a late shooting for Unus Annus, and you’d usually tagged along. That never bothered Ethan before. It should have.

You had participated in a drinking video for Unus Annus, since Mark couldn’t drink. You didn’t want Ethan to be drunk alone, and that’s how you found yourself in the predicament you were in now. You were in Mark and Amy’s spare bedroom, the room swaying slightly. The headache you’d had earlier was slowly ebbing away, the alcohol and the dark room helping. The door opened, someone had said they’d bring you some Advil. Through the darkness you slid your hands onto Ethan’s shoulders, he said nothing but you felt him stiffen as you did so. You giggled drunkenly when you felt him try to pry your hands off him. Why was he being so shy?

“Eef c’mon,” You sighed as you pressed your body against his. You wound your hands through his dark hair, and he only pulled away further. “Uh- I-I’m, well I’m not-” He was stammering, normally you never caught him so off-guard with your affection. His hands were firmly on your waist, and you could have sworn he was trying to push you away. Your brain felt hazy as you leaned into him, your lips planting firmly on his. He went completely stiff, what’s the matter with Ethan tonight? The light flicks on in the next second and you pull away from Ethan, your eyes squinting in the bright light.

“What the hell?” You hear Ethan say softly, his voice distant and wrought with an emotion you couldn’t identify. You looked up at the man you were pressed against and your eyebrows furrowed as you locked eyes with...Mark. “Mark.” You’d meant it to sound like a question but you’re pretty sure it sounded like a statement. You swayed back drunkenly, causing Mark’s hands to fly out and steady you.

“Ethan-” Mark started worriedly as Ethan turned out of the spare bedroom.

“Were you Mark this whole time?” You slur, watching the panic settle in Mark’s eyes. “Where’s Ethan?” You ask again, pulling away from Mark. This all felt like some vivid hallucination. You collapsed onto the bed, your body heavy with exhaustion. You’re barely conscious when you hear Amy call Ethan’s name, seconds before the front door slammed.

You were drunk, you didn’t mean it. That’s what Ethan keeps saying over and over, yet he doesn’t really believe it. A few stray tears cascade down Ethan’s cheeks when he hears banging on the front door. He wished whoever it was would go away, but still he drug himself to the front door and looked through the peephole.

Mark.

He’d been dodging Mark’s attempts to contact him for a week now, and Ethan knew he wouldn’t be able to avoid Mark forever. So he opened the door, to find a slightly panicked, slightly relieved Mark standing in front of him. Ethan stood in the doorway, keeping the door against his side. Mark wrung his hands together as he searched for the words to say. “Can I come in?” It’s all he can think of- he just wants a chance to explain himself. Ethan nods curtly, opening the door for Mark to enter.

“What do you want?” Ethan asks, trying his best to keep himself physically and emotionally distant from Mark. Mark stood in the doorway, feeling emotion steadily rising in his chest once more. “I-I had no idea she would kiss me! I was just bringing her Advil, she was really drunk Ethan, she didn’t even know it was me. She thought it was you! She even said your name, it was dark in there!” Mark huffs in one breath and Ethan doesn’t know how to respond. He nodded before turning to lean against the couch.

“Honestly I don’t care how it happened Mark, that doesn’t change anything. It still happened regardless, and knowing why doesn’t make it hurt any less.” Ethan says, his voice soft. Ethan never thought of himself as cynical, but right now he felt like all the color was draining out of the world. The betrayal he feels almost feels as though it’s been branded onto him. Something he will never be able to leave behind, no matter what happens in the future, he’ll never be able to forget that this happened.

“I’m sorry Ethan, I- I didn’t mean for this to happen.” Mark says again, feeling panic growing in his chest. Ethan nods as he rubs a hand down his face. He turns to Mark, he wants to forgive Mark. His friendship is too valuable to Ethan to lose. He reaches out for Mark and wraps his arms around him, and he feels Mark release a breath. “I’m so- so sorry.” Ethan wraps his arms around Mark tighter, “I know.”

Forgiving Mark felt good, it brought Ethan some respite through the hardest time in his life. But another week had passed and he still couldn’t bring himself to answer your texts or calls, or open the door when you came by. He didn’t know how he could be around you without feeling all the pain come rushing back in. You kissed Mark. But he gave Mark a chance, and he knew sooner or later he’d have to give you a chance too. That’s why he texted you, and told you to come over. Ethan felt his palms sweating, it was like he couldn’t even breathe. The seconds seemed to tick by so slowly, and while he was still so angry and hurt... he couldn’t deny how excited he was to see you again.

When the doorbell rang, it was almost embarrassing how quickly Ethan was answering the door. You carefully made your inside and for a few minutes you and Ethan did nothing other than stare at each other. In an instant Ethan had reached forward and brought his lips to yours. He knew he’d never be able to trust you again, he knew the relationship was over. But before you go, he needs to feel you around him one more time. He needs to feel your skin against his. You melt into him, your lips moving with his as Ethan’s hand slide down your back to your legs. He tugs on your legs, signaling you to jump. Offering a little jump, Ethan wraps your legs around his waist as he presses you against the nearest wall.

You moan softly as Ethan trails desperate kisses down the column of your neck, his hands resting firmly on your ass. His movements are quick, almost desperate as he gently grinds against you. You moan again as your hands tangle in his hair, this wasn’t what you were expecting when he asked you to come over. You missed him, you missed this. Ethan’s lips trail back up to yours as he keeps turns and leans you down against the couch. His hands dance down your body to the waistband of your leggings, quickly yanking them down your body. “God Ethan I missed you.” You moaned, and for a second Ethan almost forgets. He almost forgets what you did. He nearly lost himself in the tender suppleness of your skin. Ethan nearly lost himself in the heat coming from between your legs.

Ethan doesn’t respond as his hand delves between your legs. His fingers dancing between your folds as you desperately fumble with the buckle of his belt. Eventually you pull it through the loops, already helping him unbutton his jeans as he leans over you again. He’s going to miss your skin against his, among so many other more meaningful things. He’s going to miss how your nose scrunches up when you laugh, or how you would play with his hair when he was stressed. Most of all he’s going to miss how safe he felt when he was with you, he’ll never feel like that with you again. You destroyed any sense of security he ever felt with you the second you pressed your lips against Mark’s. Once his jeans were around his ankles, Ethan kicked them off before slowly pressing his head into you.

He pulls you up against his chest, his head pressed into your neck as he slowly slides into you inch by inch. You hold desperately to him, moaning softly against his clothed shoulder as he gently stretches you open. You wind your legs around his waist as he slides out slowly before bottoming out again. Ethan sets a slow and steady pace, his breath fanning against your neck and your eyes are screwed shut as Ethan slowly pushes into you again and again. The pleasure building inside you is overwhelming and soon you’re panting against Ethan as he picks up his pace only slightly. Ethan drives into you again and again until you feel that winding coil inside you snap and you cum hard around him. Ethan offers a few more forceful thrusts before cumming into you, thank god for birth control.

Ethan is silent after he pulls out, and there’s a somber look on his face. You try to reach up to cup his cheek in your palm but he turns away from you. You lean up on your elbows, watching as he pulls his jeans back up. “I can’t trust you. Maybe it’s selfish of me but I just needed to feel you one last time.” Your eyebrows furrow together as your heart breaks in your chest. Is Ethan...breaking up with you? You quickly pull your leggings up, “Ethan...I’m sorry I am.”

“I know, but I can’t be in a relationship with no trust.” He says finally, his tone firm. You feel tears in your eyes as you stand.

“But I love you.” You whisper and Ethan turns to you with tears in his eyes.

“I love you, but I can’t do this.” He says again, before turning and heading up the stairs, taking your heart with him as he goes.

#ethan nestor #ethan nestor imagine #crankgameplays imagine #crankgameplays #crankgameplays smut #youtuber #youtube smut #Smut #ethan nestor smut #goodbye sex #breakup sex

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writing-is-thorapy · 3 years

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Angstpril Day 7: Friendly Fire AND Day 11: “This Isn’t You”

It’s been five years since everything changed, since the world as he knew it completely collapsed, since his brothers became nothing more than drones for an evil empire. Though he and Ahsoka had started doing work for the Rebellion, Rex never stopped looking for and rescuing any brothers he could.

He had saved so many, each and every one of them a step in the right direction, a step toward ensuring they were all free, there is still one person he has yet to find. Rex listens in on Imperial channels, listens for whispers, rumors, anything that may lead him to his lost brother.

Nothing.

Rex had been on a recon mission in the Outer Rim when his ship was shot down by Imperial Forces.

As he staggers out of the crumpled cockpit, miraculously still able to walk, he groans.

Tatooine. Of course it had to be Tatooine.

His nav systems are fried, so he just gathers what supplies he can, chooses a direction, and walks.

He continues like this for some time, absolutely boiling in the desert suns.

“Stop,” a distorted voice calls out from behind him. Rex obeys, his hands drifting to his blasters as he slowly pivots to face whoever called out to him.

The black armor of a purge trooper stands in stark contrast to the varying brown and tan shades of the desert, the red visor glaring menacingly.

“Hey, I’m just a traveller,” Rex says warily. “If you could just direct me to—”

“CT-7567,” the trooper snaps, an electrostaff gripped in his hands. “You are wanted for treason and are to be captured and subsequently executed.”

“You’ll have to get me first,” Rex snarks, painfully reminding himself of his General.

They launch themselves at each other, exchanging punches and kicks. Rex is hit by trooper’s staff more than once, and wishes he too had saber-proof armor.

With a well-aimed kick, Rex separates the trooper from his staff, and the two resort to hand-to-hand.

And then it happens.

Rex doesn’t even know how, but the trooper’s helmet is ripped off of his head.

The world stops.

Rex is face-to-face with the brother he’s been fruitlessly—hopelessly—searching for.

Though he looks a little older—they both do, really—the scar that creeps around his eye and down his face is the exact same.

But Cody’s eyes…

Cody’s eyes are dead.

Rex’s shock is costly; Cody hits him across the head with his blaster and pins him to the ground.

“Cody,” he says, feeling desperate. “Cody, this isn’t you. C’mon, snap out of it, vod.”

Cody continues to stare at him dispassionately, finger on the trigger.

Rex has stared down the barrel of a blaster more times than he count; heck, he’s been shot at by brothers before.

But this is different.

This is his ori’vod, the best friend that protected him and stood by his side no matter what, the brother that has saved his life again and again.

It’s only fair that Cody be the one to end it, as well.

Rex exhales, readying himself for the final blow, the final moment.

It never comes.

Instead, Cody flies sideways, as if violently pushed.

Shocked, Rex looks the opposite direction.

Brown cloak and tan robes waving in the dry desert wind and lightsaber hanging on his hip is none other than Obi-Wan Kenobi. Though the desert has aged him—his hair and beard are less colorful than they used to be and there are wrinkles on his face that weren’t there before—he looks just as fierce as threatening as he did during the height of the War.

“General Kenobi,” Rex whispers reverently, barely believing his eyes.

“I haven’t been ‘General’ for a long time, Captain,” he replies as he walks towards Rex. “Please, just call me Ben.”

“Only if you call me Rex,” he replies.

Before they can exchange any more pleasantries, Cody slowly rises, grains of sand clinging to his armor like stars in the night sky.

When he catches sight of General Kenobi Obi-Wan Ben, he staggers back, seemingly disoriented. He cups his head in one hand, expression twisted in pain and eyes screwed shut. Rex and Ben begin to slowly approach him as one would a wounded animal, but Cody shakes his head and looks back up, expression blank and eyes empty.

“General Obi-Wan Kenobi,” he growls, the waver in his voice almost imperceptible. “Under Order 66, all Jedi are to be executed for treason against the Republic.”

“Cody…” Ben begins, the anguish evident in his expression. He takes a step forward but Cody is quick to unholster his blaster and point it at the Jedi. It’s a DC-15LE, Rex vaguely recalls.

“G-good soldiers follow orders.”

He fires.

Like lightning, Ben brandishes his lightsaber and deflects the bolt.

And so they fight.

Jedi versus Commander, brother versus brother—and yet somehow, somehow, they are able to subdue Cody.

After Ben secures Cody’s unconscious body on his dewback, they set off to the Jedi’s hut.

Once they arrive and settle Cody in Ben’s bunk, the Jedi uses some Force-trick to disable Cody’s chip (Rex didn’t even need to tell him about the chips. Apparently he already knew). Rex sends a quick message to Ahsoka using Ben’s secure comm to let her know that he was okay. He would tell her everything else when he saw her next—she definitely deserved to know that Obi-Wan Ben was alive, but he wasn’t willing to risk passing along such top-secret information when there was still a possibility the message could be intercepted.

Cody wakes up two days later.

Obi-Wan is in Mos Eisley grabbing supplies, so it’s just him and Rex. The latter is reassembling his blasters when he hears a soft groan from the bunk. Rex quickly looks at Cody and, after seeing his stir, quickly stashes his blasters away and out of sight. Just in case.

Cody opens his eyes and blinks blearily at Rex.

“Hey, Cody,” Rex says, willing his voice to remain steady.

For what seems like eternity, Cody stares at him, confused, until he gasps, eyes widening in realization.

“No,” he murmurs, voice cracking as his eyes fill with tears. “No!” Cody shoots upward, clearly intending to escape from the bed, but Rex stops him, wrapping his brother in a tight hug.

“Cody,” he whispers, his eyes burning. “Cody, it wasn’t your fault.”

At Rex’s words, Cody stops struggling.

And then he screams, a wordless expression of pure anguish. He curls into Rex’s embrace and sobs, great heaving, heart-wrenching cries ripped from his throat one after the other that are no less painful despite being muffled by how his face is pressed against Rex’s chest.

“Rex, oh Force, Rex,” he whimpers. “Vod’ika.”

Rex tightens his arms around Cody. “Ori’vod,” he rasps in reply, tears dripping down his face.

And so there they remain, while Cody begins to process everything that his body has done and Rex simply relishes having his brother back.

They are so distracted that neither of them hears the door open and close, feels the desert breeze that slithers into the hut.

Neither of them realizes that another is present until he speaks.

“Commander.”

Cody freezes.

“It’s ok, Cody,” Rex whispers, marginally loosening his grip.

Slowly, oh-so-slowly, Cody uncurls from Rex’s chest and peeks over his shoulder.

Out of the corner of his eye, Rex sees the shock and disbelief, the self-loathing, the hope on his brother’s face as he truly sees the General he had long thought to be dead.

Cody chokes on a sob as otherwise-silent tears stream down his face.

“General,” he murmurs, the declaration filled with a myriad of emotions Rex can’t possibly identify. “I-I killed you.”

“And yet here I am,” Ben responds, his voice laced with affection.

Rex slowly releases his brother, allowing Cody to rise from the cot and slowly walk towards Ben, looking as if he is seeing a ghost.

And in a way he is.

Cody stops an arm’s length away, looking as if he is physically restraining himself from leaping into Ben’s arms.

Instead his knees give out and he falls to the floor, head bowed. Ben looks dismayed but refrains from reaching out.

“If you’re going to kill me,” Cody chokes out, “Then just do it. I know what I’ve done.”

Surprise and distress flit across Ben’s face (and when had he been so expressive?) before he kneels directly in front of Cody, hesitantly placing a hand on his shoulder and ignoring the way Cody stiffens in response.

“Cody,” Ben replies, “I’m not here to kill you. I’m here to help you.”

Rex is unable to see Cody’s expression or hear if he has said anything, but whatever it is causes Ben to utter, “Oh, Cody,” and wrap him in his arms.

“Ni ceta, alor,” Cody whispers, the words so soft that Rex can barely hear them. “Ni ceta.”

Ben only tightens his grip, murmuring in Cody’s ear.

Rex silently creeps out of the room, wishing more than anything to reunite with his General.

And though Rex doesn’t know it yet, he will. Just not in the way he wants nor expects.

After all, he always joked that General Skywalker would be the death of him.

Mando’a Translations:

Vod= Brother

Ori’vod= Big brother

Vod’ika= Little brother

Ni ceta, alor= I’m sorry [extreme], leader

#star wars #captain rex #commander cody #obi wan kenobi #my writing #angstpril2021 #day 7 #day 11 #here you are folks #this one got LOOONG #I refuse to write a fight scene if I don't have to #had to end it with angst because IT'S ANGSTPRIL

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wanderinginksplot · 3 years

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Warriors in Red Armor

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Chapter Three

Warning: This chapter features a highly sanitized and idealized version of a protest. A protest that would take place in a galaxy far, far away with a functional government and officers held to an incredibly high standard. In short, this is not meant to be a reflection in any way, shape, or form of any of the protests that have taken place over the last few years, especially in regards to racial prejudice in the United States. If you think this could be a trigger for you, please skip this chapter and send me a message! I would be thrilled to summarize the chapter's contents for you.

---

Fox I

"These men fight and die for the sake of a Republic that cares nothing for them!"

Fox winced, dialing down the volume on the channel that connected the audio intake to the interior of his helmet. Whoever had given that woman a device to amplify her voice had never been forced to listen to how loud she was all on her own.

"They were bred to fight in wars they did not create, used to protect a society from which they do not benefit, and given no chance to choose a different life!"

A different life. Fox didn't even know what he would do if he wasn't a soldier. Not that it had ever mattered. The woman had gotten that right, at least: the troopers had been bred for ultimate reflexes and battle efficiency. Using them in any other capacity would be a waste.

"They have no rights, receive no recognition, and barely earn a paycheck!"

"Hey, Commander," a trooper's voice said in his ear. Fox's HUD identified the speaker as Jek.

"What is it, Jek?" Fox asked, on instant alert and scanning the crowd with increased fervor.

"Do you think we could get a pay raise out of this?"

Fox bit back an irritated sigh. It wasn't Jek's fault that he had never experienced a riot. He didn't know the devastating speed at which crowds could turn, that you couldn't take your eyes off them for a moment. He didn't know how dangerous people like Nora Czajak could be.

"Keep your focus, trooper," he admonished. "If this crowd gets out of control, you won't deserve a pay raise anyway."

"Yes, sir," Jek agreed, sounding disappointed.

"We must stand for sake of these men who are forbidden to stand," Czajak was lecturing. "We must speak for them, because their voices have been ignored. Come, my fellow Coruscanti citizens! Lend your legs, lend your voice, lend your time! Help us show the Galactic Senate that we will not rest until these men have received all they deserve!"

"Someone must have kriffed up hard if listening to this is what we deserve," Rhys complained through the inter-HUD comm system.

It was only the second complaint, but that was two too many in Fox's opinion. With a short motion of his eyes, Fox had activated the communications system that connected all trooper helmets. It allowed him to make a sweeping announcement.

"Stay on alert, men," Fox ordered. "They have permission to march for another twenty minutes before we can break this whole thing up. Keep your seals tight."

But it was not to be. Groups of civilians thronged to the demonstration, convinced by Czajak's passionate speech to join the Clone Rights cause. At the exact time Clone Rights was to end their march, the Coruscant Guard stepped up to urge civilians off the street. It didn't matter - Czajak took up her amplifier once more.

"See, citizens? Do you see how the troopers are forced to work counter to their own interests?" Czajak demanded. "We march on their behalf, but their commanding officers order them to silence our voices! They have no choice but to obey."

The murmur of agreement passing through the crowd put tension thrumming through Fox's shoulders. If this demonstration was going to get ugly, it would be now.

"No thinking, feeling being should have their choices removed!" Czajak cried through the amplifier. "No being should be forced to fight for those who would keep him enslaved!"

If given the chance, Fox could have guessed the first act of violence down to the second it happened.

By the time the cry of, "Don't push me!" rang through the crowd, he was well on his way to Czajak.

Before she could lift her amplifier again - to do what, he didn't stop to ask - Fox had taken it from her hand. "Sorry ma'am. I'm placing you in custody."

"Under what charges?" she asked, fixing him with an impish grin that made no sense under the circumstances.

Fox's own reaction made even less sense: the sight of that little mischievous smile set his blood boiling. He had experienced far more disrespect from civilians in the past. There was no reason she should have any effect on him at all.

Still, he had to take a deep breath before he could answer her. "Violating the terms of a special demonstration permit, inciting a riot, disturbing the peace… should I go on?"

"Why not?" Czajak asked. "You seem to be enjoying yourself."

Fox shook his head and held up a pair of regulation magnetic binders. "Are you planning to resist arrest?"

She didn't answer him immediately, instead staring into the darkness of his visor in a way that made Fox feel painfully exposed. Czajak was calm and steady while he - Commander Fox of the Coruscant Guard - was off-balance. Somehow, she had gotten him at a disadvantage. Discomfited at the idea, Fox shook the cuffs at her in a rude gesture. "Well?"

"Hold on, I'm trying to decide if resisting arrest would be working for or against my cause," she pondered, still wearing a hint of her ridiculous grin. At last, she sighed and presented her wrists. "I'll go with you."

If Fox put the binders on her wrists a bit more aggressively than necessary, no one dared to ask him why.

Somehow, he ended up being the one to transport Czajak back to the Coruscant Guard precinct - mostly because the other men were busy escorting rioters to the precinct or being looked over by Ink, the Guard's medic.

After he had gotten Czajak in his transport, Fox slid into the front seat and began preparing to pilot it. She watched with interest while he removed his helmet, but it was illegal to drive with one on, so he persevered. Besides, there would be nothing of interest for her under his helmet. Fox kept his appearance strictly within grooming guidelines. His hair was regulation, his face was clean-shaven, and his tattoos were neatly hidden beneath his body glove.

He had glanced at her in the rear-facing mirror of his transport and resolved not to do so again. Still, his determination not to speak to her lasted until she spoke exactly once.

"So you don't see your required enforcement of my demonstration as a conflict of interest?" she asked conversationally despite having stared at him in silence for the first few minutes of their trip. "You don't think it's a violation of your rights? Not that you get many of those…"

"I have rights," Fox ground out before he could stop himself. "You and your group don't help any of us. You just make our lives more difficult."

"But imagine if you weren't being forced into life as a soldier," Czajak pressed. "You and your brothers could do anything you choose to do, live in the way that best pleases you."

"And we would choose to fight and die for the Republic," Fox answered stoically.

Czajak didn't answer immediately. Fox glanced into the mirror to find her staring at him in unsettled silence. When she finally found her voice, she said, "Surely you can't be so arrogant to think that all your brothers feel the same way."

"We're clones. We look the same, act the same, fight the same, and think the same," he said with a conviction he didn't feel. "Being soldiers is what we're good at, what we were made to do. It's in our genes."

Even in his peripheral vision, he could see her perk up slightly at that. "Your genes? Your genes were donated by a man who was a bounty hunter - one of the best the galaxy has ever seen. If every person sharing your genetic profile was made to be a soldier, how did he end up as a bounty hunter?"

It was a good point, Fox resentfully admitted to himself. Czajak was excellent at debate and he found himself drawn into the argument.

"Lack of opportunity," he said, mostly to give himself time to think.

"So, if given the opportunity, you believe Jango Fett would have left a successful bounty-hunting career to be a soldier fighting for the Republic?" She shook her head. "That seems unlikely, to say the least. He was a man who valued freedom and choice."

"Jango Fett was a traitor to the Republic," Fox argued. "He died at the hands of a Jedi because he was in league with the Separatists."

"Are you a traitor to the Republic?" Czajak asked, voice gentle despite the horrendous accusation she was tossing in his direction.

"Of course not!"

"Then genes don't determine personality, preferences, or choices. Your brothers may not all like the life of a soldier, regardless of how you enjoy it." With that, Czajak settled back against the seat and stared peacefully out of the transparisteel window, as if she hadn't turned Fox's idea of the world on its head.

---

Hound III

Public relations assignments were a nightmare for most troopers. Being forced to parade in front of civilians was hard enough, but the GAR wanted their troopers to do the impossible. They had to toe the line between being friendly and non-intimidating, but still remind citizens that the troopers were more than enough to defend the Triple Zero against threats.

Hound was one of the rare troopers who didn't mind PR duty - actually, he enjoyed it. Not only did it play into his love of crowds and people, but he got to spend some time showing off his best friend.

"Now, Grizzer, can you show these good people some tricks?" Hound asked, giving the massiff a subtle signal to go into alert mode.

"Sit." Grizzer sat. "Smile." Grizzer bared his fearsome teeth. "Speak." Grizzer let out a loud, yelping bark. "Good boy!"

Grizzer could not sit still as the crowd applauded his good work. The muscular massiff's body quivered as Grizzer did his best to wag his whole being in excitement.

Non-threatening image: check, Hound thought with some amusement. The sea of younglings surrounding them had wriggled closer to the pair. Okay, so they were here for Grizzer, but Hound received some reflected fame because he got to be friends with the massiff.

"Do any of you have questions for me?" Hound asked, when he saw that their time was almost over.

A young Rodian boy raised his hand and immediately told Hound, "My mama said that massiffs eat bad children who don't listen to their parents. Does Grizzer eat bad children?"

Hound chuckled a bit. This was a common question at PR events. At first, he hadn't been sure how to answer the question, not wanting to accidentally encourage children to disobey their parents. He had ended up taking the problem to his fellow Coruscant Guardsmen and they had come up with a good solution.

Hound leaned down as if he were telling the younglings a secret and all of them wiggled closer as well. Meeting the wide, galaxy-mirroring eyes of the Rodian boy, Hound said, "Grizzer doesn't really like to eat children, but that's a secret. Don't tell your parents! Do you know what he does like to eat?"

The suggestions were wild and varied, but Hound grinned wider. "All of those are right! Grizzer will eat just about anything, even if it isn't good for him. The other night, he stole my dinner…"

And, with that, they had reached the 'Grizzer stealing food' part of the event. It was always an audience favorite, especially with younglings. Hound had vague thoughts about writing a series for young audiences about the massiff's antics. However, he was broken from his reverie by Fang, another ARF trooper, pointing at his chrono.

"That's it for today, everyone! Grizzer and I have to go back to work now."

The children - and some of the adults - made sounds of disappointment while Grizzer whined and gave Hound his most pleading expression.

"Sorry, buddy," Hound apologized to Grizzer. "You know we can't stay here all day."

"Talking to the massiff again, Hound?" Fang asked with a laugh as he approached the pair.

"That's how you become the best," Hound said, shrugging in false modesty.

He was proud of his reputation as the best ARF trooper in the GAR. It had been in every performance review he had gotten in the past few years: If there is a question about massiffs or their training, it goes immediately to Sergeant Hound. He was widely considered the ultimate authority on the subject of massiffs. Even some of the nat-born officers came to ask his advice.

In fact, Fang was at the PR event to shadow Hound. Coruscant wasn't as dangerous as some other assignments, but there was still risk in the job. There was a chance that Hound would meet an unpleasant end any day. It was best to have another qualified ARF ready to take over his work if that happened.

Grizzer, who had been idly watching the crowd with the uncaring nature that only an off-duty massiff should display, brought himself to attention. Early in their partnership, Hound had learned that the massiff had an uncanny knack for spotting trouble. Grizzer's instincts were almost never wrong.

Sure enough, a human woman stumbled out of the crowd when Hound glanced over. The two made eye contact for a moment before her gaze snapped to Grizzer, standing with one leg propped on Hound's foot. Immediate terror crossed her face and she tried to scurry back into the crowd, but she ran into a passing Devaronian. She bounced backward, falling hard on the duracrete ground with a noise that didn't sound entirely like flesh hitting a solid surface.

"Miss?" Hound asked, starting forward with a worried Grizzer hot on his heels. "Are you okay?"

The woman turned to face them, swiping frantically at the blood seeping from a cut above her eyebrow, but her attention was locked on Grizzer. "Get away from me!"

"Please calm down, ma'am, Grizzer isn't going to hurt-"

"Get away!" With that shout, one of the woman's arms lit in crackling blue electricity. Webs of light traced up and down across nodes nested in the wires of an arm he could now see was mostly cybernetic.

Hound towed Grizzer back and away from the woman even as he stared at the display. The hissing buzz of the electricity was as fascinating as it was intimidating, but Hound knew without reading the alerts on his HUD that they were illegal cybernetical alterations. Illegal alterations that she had just activated - accidental or not - in the middle of a group of civilians.

There was no way around it: he was going to have to bring her into the precinct.

"Fang," he ordered, holding Grizzer's lead out to the other ARF. Grizzer was smart and well-trained enough to go to Fang without the lead, but Hound didn't think the woman would be calmed by seeing a massiff moving around uncontrolled by a handler.

Fang, stars bless him, jogged across the small distance. He took the lead and hauled Grizzer away in seconds, ordering fascinated onlookers to go about their business all the while.

Hound's attention was fixed too closely on the woman to worry about things like civilians in the area. Her close-shaved head let him see the fire in her eyes, brighter and more violent than the sparks dripping from her cybernetic arm. If she was going to attack him or the crowd, he would need all the warning he could get. Stopping her in time to keep people from getting hurt would be tricky.

Slowly, he extended a hand, palm-out. "Easy," he breathed, humming a bit when she stared at him without moving. "The massiff is gone and no one wants to hurt you. Everything is okay."

Hound wasn't aware that he was nodding gently until she mirrored the motion, her head bobbing up and down in tense jerks. The rise and fall of her chest was still too rapid for comfort. Hound took a deep breath, exaggerating the sound for her.

"Deep breaths, deep breaths," he told her. "Everything is fine. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Just- just keep it away from me," she said, voice a bit hoarse.

"Grizzer is over there and he's going to stay over there," Hound said firmly. "What else?"

She stared at him, her eyes intense and frank. "Let me go home."

Hound shook his head. "We both know I can't do that. Those are illegal alterations on your cybernetic, and you used them in a very public place. I need to take you to the station and file a report."

It was a bold thing to say, especially with the shivering light from her electricity-wreathed arm bouncing around the area, but she only sighed and flexed her fingers. The electricity died with the movement.

"I'll come with you," she stipulated, "but I won't ride with the massiff."

"I understand," Hound agreed, accepting her offer with ease. "Fang?"

"Sir?"

"Can you bring Grizzer back to the precinct?"

Fang took a moment to answer, and Hound glanced back to find the ARF staring at him in shock. "You want me to take Grizzer?"

"Yes, trooper," Hound said, an edge of exasperation entering his voice.

He felt a little bad making the request in the first place. Hound always took Grizzer with him, always. But Fang was a good soldier and a good brother, and he had a solid working relationship with Grizzer. Hound trusted Fang to get the massiff back to the precinct safely, even if he was a little guilty at leaving Grizzer behind.

Sorry, buddy, he mentally apologized to Grizzer. The massiff shook his head, tongue lolling out as if to say it was fine. Hound grinned. He had long thought that Grizzer was a little psychic.

"I'll get him there, sir," Fang agreed immediately, adding a sharp salute. Hound nodded solemnly at him and watched as the ARF and the massiff headed for Fang's cruiser.

When they were gone, Hound stood and extended a hand down to the woman, but she ignored it and stood on her own. When she was upright, she extended her wrists toward him for restraints. Hound pushed them down and gently guided her toward his own cruiser.

"You aren't going to put binders on me?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"I wasn't planning on it," Hound said honestly. "Why, are you going to make trouble?"

"I wasn't planning on it," she said with a hint of mockery in her voice. "But for someone who is arresting me for illegal cybernetic enhancements, you don't seem worried I'm going to use them on you."

"If you want binders, we can do binders," Hound said with a long-suffering attitude. "It'll be a lot more trouble on my side, though. Do you really want to make extra work for me?"

"I would never want to inconvenience someone who's arresting me," she responded, expression as dry as her tone.

"Good! No binders, then," Hound decided, steering her into the backseat of his cruiser.

They didn't say another word to each other on the way to the precinct.

---

A/N - I just realized that the chapter cut comes before Hound learns that it's Ransom he's arresting. It's an awkward splice, but that's what happens when you write a story all at once and try to cut it into chapters of similar length afterward!

I'm sorry for the late update, but between the Chauvin sentencing and the death of Ma'Khia Bryant in the last week, I couldn't even think about posting on my usual day without feeling guilty and uncomfortable. I hope the protest described here wasn't too offensive to anyone, but I wanted to get this chapter posted!

#Warriors in Red Armor #star wars #star wars the clone wars #star wars fanfiction #coruscant guard #commander fox #sergeant hound #commander thorn #commander thire #tcw #clone troopers deserve better #more to come

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lokiwritess · 4 years

Text

Restless - Sergeant Hunter

I learned the spelling of sergeant halfway through this and that is all I have to say. Ps. We all know Hunter is secretly a softie who loves his brothers

The light rap of knuckles on durasteel was the first thing to pull you out of your trance in hours, maybe even a day. Nothing had managed to break your concentration: Not hunger, not thirst, not even the raging headache in your temples.

Exhaustion had you almost slipping away a few times, but you clung on to your last bits of energy like a drowning man would cling to a bottle of water.

Your hair was probably a mess, eyes half-closed, with the dark circles to prove the time you'd spent staring at the datapad in your lap. What had started from interest had turned into desperation quickly, leaving nothing but frustration in its wake.

If you didn't decrypt those files you would have failed another one of your friends.

"How's it going? Made any progress?", Hunter questioned.

The long-haired sergeant leaned against the doorway, arms crossed in front of his chest. His eyes scanned the room in a fluid motion, settling on your figure.

"I got nothing.", you muttered in defeat. "Kix must've known that whoever was after him would try to find these files as well. I mean- how the hell am I supposed to open files protected against way smarter people?”

"He sent them to you. I doubt that he just chose a random person, that means that you know how to decrypt them. Just don’t know it yet."

"I just can't figure it out. I'm failing miserably. I need more time. What if I can't figure it out until it's too late?"

Hunter huffed, his soft footsteps echoing on the floor as he moved closer. He stopped right next to you, crouching down to be on the same level as you. But instead of trying to look at him, your gaze was fixed on the datapad once again, and on the transmission, you’d received while eating with the group.

This time, what broke your concentration was that Hunter just snatched the pad from your hands and turned it off.

“What are you doing?”, you questioned in shock, trying to reach for it.

But the Sergeant held it out of reach from you, laying it down on top of a monitor.

“You’ve been doing this for hours. Right now, you don’t need more time, you need food and rest.”

The ship was quiet, the only thing that you could hear the steady humming of the engines that kept the ship in its position. Too quiet, for the usually chaotic ship. There was no bickering, no arguments, no bets being made.

“Everyone already went to sleep, didn’t they?”

“They did, about eight hours ago. We let you be then but this isn’t healthy anymore.”

You couldn't help but protest as he grabbed your waist and made you stand on your feet. Wobbly feet, as you noticed. Did you sit on the floor in the command center for almost a day? How had you not noticed the way your muscles ached?

"Alright, let's go before you fall asleep on your feet."

"I really have to keep working on this. I’ll promise I’ll eat, but-”

"Tech will look into it while you do your part in being a functional member of the team. And that for you means eating and sleeping right now.", he cut you off.

"Did you just call any of us functional?"

He made a low sound that you had learned to identify as his way to express amusement. But he didn't stop moving, his hand on the small of your back gently maneuvering your tired body in the right direction.

"Stop protesting. Food first or sleep?"

You rolled your eyes at his stubbornness, while a yawn decided for you. "Sleep."

He hummed in agreement, reacting by laying his other hand on the crook of your arm and saving you from stumbling straight into a storage crate.

Touch was still something rare coming from Hunter, as you had come to realize in your time with the Bad Batch. Even though the limits of the team’s mutations and abilities were often unknown to you, it felt good to know that Hunter had gotten used to your presence so much that he didn't get overwhelmed as easily anymore.

His oversensitivity had reacted a lot to you in the beginning, rooted in your often subconscious use of the force, but now - with you in a resting state, with no one else around - he was fine. And your exhausted body relished in the warmth of the clone in his blacks.

You barely noticed Crosshair walking past you, the force signature of the sniper faintly floating by in a moment's notice. You had successfully relied on Hunter to not make you run into walls, half asleep already. Your mind had retreated into itself. It was just you, the quiet, and Hunter's presence. Exactly how you liked it.

Your senses only re-activated as you took a less familiar path.

"Why are we going to your room?"

Hunter's room was at the end of the corridor, as far away from the electricity and signals in the cockpit and command center as possible. Your’s was down the hall to the right. As one of the last people to join the crew of the Havoc Marauder you shared the last room - which also happened to be the smallest - with Echo.

The first couple of weeks you'd slept on the floor, just waiting for his nightmares to end what little sleep you’d had. And then the Bad Batch had started accepting you more and one-day Tech got so tired of hearing your shoulder crack every morning that they installed a make-shift second cot.

It took you a second to realize.

"Wait- Is Echo okay?" The words were slurred by your drowsiness. Before you, the door to Hunter's room swished open and he nudged you to move in. But a sense of panic had already settled in your bones.

Echo had been your friend long before he supposedly died. Long before things spiraled out of control, before you’d left the order and your friends. Before you lost so many people it would take you a while to count.

"He had a bad night. Wrecker is keeping him company to get him back to sleep."

"I should-" But as you turned around you simply walked straight into Hunter's chest.

"Absolutely not. You need to rest. And Echo is just as worried about your friend as you are. The last thing that's going to help him right now is your presence.", he bluntly stated.

Yep, that was Hunter. A bit rough around the edges, but always the best interest of the team in mind.

"You can get together and talk once you're both in a better state." With that, he turned you around by your shoulders and guided you the rest of the way to his bed.

You'd never been in his room. Always just stood inside the doorway in case you needed something or one of the others asked for him. It felt weirdly intimate.

A common theme within the members of the Bad Batch. It’d always just been the four of them, so they had the luxury of having solitary rooms, no matter how small they were. They served their function as a time-out zone, a safe space for different reasons, that you had learned in your time with them.

Their rooms were tailored to their specific needs. In Tech’s case that meant he stored all of his devices there, safe from his brother’s who were absolutely not allowed to touch any of them.

For Wrecker, it was the size. With a special cot and the biggest room available, he could drop the caution that he might break something his brother’s treasured.

You’d yet to look at Crosshair’s room, that’s how secretive he was about it.

Hunter was a stark contrast to Tech in regards to his room. He’d downsized everything in there to things he really needed, nothing that served no purpose. Where Tech had a clutter of all kinds of things, Hunter kept his knives organized and he never brought things in there that could trigger his enhanced senses.

Bringing you in there seemed like a clear violation of that rule.

You were fascinated by their rooms because they were so personal.

In your time with the Jedi, you’d always been forbidden from even feeling attached to a specific room. And when you joined the 501st things had been vastly different as well.

Echo’s and your room was a stark contrast to the rest of the team members because of that specific reason. You were used to the loud barracks, not the isolation of the Havoc Marauder.

On good days your shared room felt like the old days in the 501st barracks on some risky mission to a weird place. Like you were taking a break from the business of war, filled with Fives’ jokes and Jesse’s laughter. Like home.

On the bad days, it felt like explosions at the Citadel. Or like the echo of blasters firing on Umbara. It felt like hopelessness and sadness caused by the loss of many friends. Like a deep abyss of loneliness that would drown anyone that dare enter in the waves of past trauma.

You barely registered hitting the mattress. You adjusted on autopilot, gravitating closer to the wall behind your back as your head found the pillow.

"You're spacing out on me again.", Hunter remarked.

"Bad habit."

He sat on the side of the bed, pulling the covers over you. Once you were warm and cozy, he turned to stand up but he hesitated. Hunter could feel your guilt. That was one of the feelings you carried around with you day to day, since the day he’d met you.

It ate away at you even when you were in a good mood, and that bothered him. Especially since that transmission came in and amplified your guilt thousandfold.

"You do know that it’s not your fault that your friend was taken, right?”

You pressed your lips together tightly, avoiding eye contact, instead choosing to focus your attention on your hand. He was wrong.

“I left them.” The words felt like lead on your tongue, hurting you as you tried to get them out.

“You didn’t.”, Hunter disagreed. “You left the Jedi, but not them. You wouldn’t have been there at the smallest sign that Echo was alive if you had.”

You looked up at the clone with mixed feelings. Maybe there was some truth to that. Even after you finally broke and left the order, you’d been there when Tup and Fives died. And you’d been there when Rex had the suspicion that Echo was still alive, dropping everything in a moments notice.

Hell, the only reason you’d had for going with the Bad Batch had been that Rex asked you to look out for Echo and help him adjust.

“Maybe you’re right.”, you shrugged numbly. “I guess I just… feel like I keep failing to keep the people I care about alive. I can't save Kix. And I couldn't save Fives nor could I help any of the others… but if I figure out what Kix was onto, I might be able to help Echo and Rex and Jesse and maybe even you."

To your surprise, Hunter grabbed your hand and squeezed it lightly.

"I know that you want to protect them. But you can't do it at the cost of working yourself to death. You're part of the Bad Batch now. You don't have to do this alone, alright?"

You nodded slowly.

“Good. Now get some rest.”

And with that, the handsome Sergeant stood up from his bed and left you to be consumed by your exhaustion, in a room that felt so distinctively like him that you finally managed to relax.

#star wars imagines #star wars reader #star wars the clone wars #the clone wars #clone wars #the bad batch #bad batch #clone wars imagines #clone wars x reader #sergeant hunter x reader #hunter x reader #louistrying

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anothertimdrakestan · 4 years

Text

Tongue Tied - Tim Drake x Reader

Words: 2.4k

Requested? Yes! From a lovely anon!

“Hello lovely author, may I please request a Tim x reader who start as nerd friends, then she finds out about him being Red Robin before he can tell her, and then Red Robin saves her one day and she lets slip that she knows it's Tim. With her smarts, she's able to help him with cases and missions, and the batfam is impressed by how smart she is. You can choose whether it's a romantic ending or not, that's up to you. I just feel like smart Tim needs to be seen more. Thanks😊”

LINK TO PROMPTS & MASTERLIST -> REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN!

When I tell you I love me a smart reader I LOVE ME A SMART READER! Thank you so much for the wonderful request! Strap in dear anon you set me up for a long one and I really said “get in the car!” I hope you enjoy ; )

In the midst of a mental breakdown you let the flashbacks ensue, that’s the only correct way to lose your mind as everything you thought you knew crumbled around you right?

First you remembered “meeting” Tim Drake-Wayne for the first time. You always put meeting in quotes because you’d been in love with him for months and had sleuthed out his favorite coffee shop just to stumble into him. And because you’re you, nothing can really go as planned can it? Your plan to stumble into Tim was taken more literally when he caught you from tripping as you tried to enter the store, as you pulled yourself from his chest you felt your cheeks redden immediately.

“Oh my gosh I am such a klutz I’m so sorry” he looked flustered himself, nervously fidgeting with his sweatshirt sleeve. “Oh uh, no problem, are you okay?” he up from his jacket to meet your eyes, and though he’d never tell you his heart melted on the spot, his brother Dick defined it as “love at first sight” but that seemed too cheesy. “I’m fine! You going in here too? This is my favorite spot!” you shook off the nerves, making your way into the cafe. Tim followed you in, and to your surprise paid for your drink. Sitting at a little bar you pulled out some of your college textbooks before you realized Tim and slipped into the seat next to you.

“You in college?” his voice made you jump, your head jolting up. “Oh - no! I just think this kinda stuff is interesting. Math can predict everything ya know!” you slid your textbook between the two of you, feeling Tim’s shoulder lightly brush yours as he leaned in to read it. “Totally! Like even the golden ratio in nature!” Tim explained excitedly.

That day turned into texting every single day and hanging out whenever Tim could, and it slowly developed into a best friendship.

How did you not see the red flags like how Tim could rarely, almost never hangout at night? Or how he’d have strange bruises scattered across his body. Tim always looked dead tired but you knew he didn’t do any activities after school, to be honest the math just didn’t add up, so you took to investigating before making a conclusion - as any good scientist would. And because he’s a messy teenage boy investigation was easy.

While over at the manor Bruce had called Tim to W.E. for some sort of emergency press conference about his younger brother Damian biting a reporter, the interview was only supposed to be a half an hour. So, Tim left you with snacks and Youtube in his room while he threw on a suit and tie, which he looked like an absolute five course meal in - that wasn’t the point. You took the opportunity the riffle through his room, not exactly sure what you were looking for as you pawed through stacks of overdue assignments and dirty clothes.

With deep breaths you relived the moment that hadn’t stopped playing in your head, finding his Red Robin suit. Throwing open his closet you stifled a laugh at his pajama pants and ratty t-shirts but you choked on air when a deep red and black suit fell from the top of his closet onto your face. Thinking it was some sort of halloween costume you held it up and realized what you were touching. It made sense, the late nights, bruises, frantic cancellations, it all added up except that Tim was the sweetest person you knew, the most loving soul you knew was kicking ass while you struggled through trigonometry.

Unable to comprehend what was happening you put everything away and went home, shooting Tim some bullshit excuse about your family as your ran up to your room and began making a list - comparing Tim’s absences to Red Robin sightings, googling photos of Red Robin and drawing comparisons to the way he held himself like your best friend. There truly was no denying - Tim Drake was the Red Robin. Then it hit you like a truck - Bruce Wayne was Batman. And you assumed all of Tim’s adoptive family were vigilantes as well. You didn’t sleep that night, trying to make google searches that didn’t give anything away while trying to make a list of everything you discovered.

Tim was Red Robin. You still couldn’t wrap your mind around it. So you sat in your room at 4am, crying. Because Tim was probably out risking his life for years without you knowing. Everytime you yelled at him for cancelling plans was probably because he was out saving lives and he took all your anger, he let you berate him for scrapping his knees when it was probably the fucking Joker whooping his ass. Is it right to apologize? To tell him what you found out and try to move on with the friendship. Is this like a “now that you know I have to kill you” kinda thing? You weren’t exactly ready to die.

It seemed like Tim’s secret to keep, it was difficult at first to keep the facade that you didn’t know what he was doing at night, you just tried to always be understanding and appreciative of all the time he made for you. You fell back into the lull of best-friendship, Robin or not, Tim was the best person you knew.

“You’re in love with her Drake” Damian chided, almost annoyed with Tim’s ambivalence on the topic of his life long crush. “Am not, she’s my best friend. It’s not my fault you don’t understand friendships demon” Tim spat back, keeping his head down to hide his blush. “I’m with the demon, you practically worship the ground she walks on” Jason called, drinking straight from.a carton of milk as Dick cried out in disgust before adding his own opinion to the mess that was Tim’s love life. “Sorry kid it’s 3 to 1 which means you have to ask her out for real, remember last time?” Tim glared at the mention of his failed date proposal where you thought he was speaking in strictly hypotheticals. “You can’t out vote me on my own feelings” Tim groaned. “All in favor of allowing us to out vote Tim?” The three raised their hands again as Tim stomped up to his room, he planned on going on a peaceful patrol to plan his dream date for you.

A couple weeks into knowing Tim’s secret you learned that if you climbed to the roof of your apartment building you could see Batman and whomever he took out for patrol flipping around the city late at night. It had become a nightly routine and you’d grown to be able to identify the hero by their style of movement, your notebook filled with notes and sketches about each boy or girl. Then when you hungout with Tim you could match a vigilante’s mannerisms with one of his siblings, it was simple science really. Then you began taking down notes about whoever the Bats were fighting if it was public, discovering little facts and trying to slip Tim subconscious knowledge, it was the least you could do to help your favorite boy on earth.

But that wasn’t enough, you wanted in on the excitement of crime fighting, to have more knowledge than was on broadcast TV. So you took to the streets of Gotham armed with pepper spray, a pocket knife, and a notepad. You learned tidbits of information that you poured over, working it together until you’d solved a case, then you’d slip hypothetical ideas to Tim throughout the hours of hanging out. You felt like a real life hero, and you were getting better by the day.

“Jeez Tim it’s like you’ve been working double time! You’re solving cases before they’re even on B’s radar, what’s your secret kid genius?” Dick was stretching on the BatComputer while Tim feverishly typed in his newest solve. “Well I hangout with Y/N! She’s like a good luck charm dude I also get the best ideas when I’m with her! It’s pure magic bro I’m telling you” Tim explained as he frantically finished his report. “Lovers do have that effect! So when are you gonna tell her you’re in loveeeeee” Dick cooed as Tim shook his head. “Shut up Dickwing I’m working” was all he could give Dick without blushing or mixing up his words. He just had to plan something perfect.

But it never was perfect was it?

Kill Croc was out in the sewer, and you’d taken it upon yourself to help Tim out, you knew people who knew some of the people that helped out Croc and you were determined to find him first at any cost. That’s how you accidentally ended up in a dirty drug deal.

“Hey Timbers, you’re gonna wanna get to my location asap, I’m pretty sure your girlfriend is in trouble and it would be rude of me not to offer her saving to you” Jason heard a scramble from the other side of the comm as Tim confirmed he was on the way. He watched carefully as you searched for an escape from your capture, normally he would’ve busted the drug dealers for capturing teenagers by now but he was feeling magnanimous, deciding to give Tim the opportunity to save an unsuspecting but terrified Y/N.

There were definitely no clear exits, you cursed yourself for getting too close. You were not Red Robin, you played the long game you didn’t rush into the arms of armed drug dealers in the name of the law. Your heart was beating out of your chest as they pointed a gun at you, forcing you to walk towards a sketchy delivery truck with the other kids. “Ooh totally not gonna happen!” a familiar voice cheered as glass windows shattered, none other than your best friend stood with a grin. He looked hot as fu- not the time, not the time.

“Come any closer we’ll blow her brains out!” you felt a loaded pistol connect with the back of your head as you froze, begging to any god to live and promising not to be a field agent ever again. “That’ll be pretty hard without your gun dumbass” Tim called as four batarangs knocked the guns out of all the guy’s hands. Red Hood, who you knew was Jason Todd, burst through the back windows, guns raised. “I thought we had a deal you sorry bitches. Now let these kids go or I’ll show you what blowing brains out really looks like” the men froze, letting everyone escape.

“Too late for us, but we’re taking the pretty girl with us!” one of the men had picked up their gun, aiming it straight between your eyes and firing. You screeched when a flash of red jumped in front of you. Almost in slomo you watched the bullet connect with Tim’s body. Your scream was deafened by Red Hood’s guns as he knocked all the men completely out. Rushing to Tim’s side you pulling his head into your lap. “Tim! Oh my god Tim are you okay!” you cried as Red Robin pulled off his domino mask to reveal a very confused Tim Drake. “Kevlar, I’m fine, bullets pack a punch but it just knocked the wind out of me, how did you know who I was?” Tim sat up, showing you the bullet sized dent in his suit.

“We should go somewhere else and I can explain” you smiled sheepishly, letting Tim put his cowl back on as he loops his arm around your waist, pulling you to the top of the nearest building.

“YOU’VE KNOWN FOR MONTHS” Tim looked shocked as you explained how you figured it out and how you’ve been helping him out for weeks. “Should I have told you? I’m really sorry I just didn’t know I felt like you’d tell me when you were ready” you flinched at Tim’s shout and he calmed down. “To be honest I don’t know, you’re one of few that know who I am, but I’m glad you know, makes this even better” Tim added the last part softly, placing his hand on your cheek to lift your lips to his. Your eyes widened in shock before fluttering closed, kissing him back. The build up of months detangled itself in a night, and kissing Tim was just as perfect as you’d imagined all those years ago.

“So you’ve really been solving all those cases and you didn’t even tell me! You’re totally amazing at it!” Tim added, almost as if he’d been thinking during the kiss. “Yeah it’s pretty fun, you’re still gonna let me help right? I’m not stopping now!” you poked Tim’s chest while he thought. “I mean I’m pretty sure Babs needs a partner, but no ground work, you saw how well that went tonight, but it’ll be good to have a partner who finally knows everything” Tim exhaled, letting everything off his chest.

“Partners!” you smiled, leaning in to seal the deal with a kiss.

“This is totally epic” you stood stunned as the BatCave shined in all it’s glory. “I mean yeah it’s pretty cool, look this is my actual suit, I bet the one you saw was an older model!” Tim let you around the cave, showing off his favorite parts. You squeezed his hand trying to convey how excited you were. “I’m gonna be a better detective than you soon Timmy” you teased as Tim showed you the ropes of the BatComputer. “In your dreams babe” he rolled his eyes. “Babe huh? Didn’t realize you asked me out” you scrunched your nose at Tim while he blushed. “Oh uh, see I meant to, but yeah, I definitely should do that like-” you cut him off “yes Tim I’ll be your girlfriend you idiot” you laughed at how tongue tied the loveable boy was. You weren’t going to pretend like you didn’t get flustered around him either - you practically tripped on your own feet the first time you met him, but look how far you’d came from there.

From friends to partners to lovers and probably everything in between, you were finally Tim’s in every way, working side by side was the best thing to ever happen to both of you. That’s not quite right. Tim Drake himself was just simply the best thing that’s ever happened to you. And you to him. And that’s truly love at it’s finest.

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yamalegacy · 3 years

Text

OVERLOAD & BUNNY GIRL

[ prologue ]

SUMMARY: A new small group of villains is spreading chaos all over Japan and no hero agency seem to know what to do about them — they are perfectly organized, always manage to escape arrest, never cause any casualties and its members remain impossible to identify. All heroes can do is wait for them to strike again and hope that they will be able to capture them. Convinced that she can do a better job than everyone else, a rising Pro, Rabbit Hero: Mirko, dives in head first into an investigation and realizes too late that she might be biting more than she can chew.

mirko x villain!female!oc

Of all the popular spots in the city, there were few that she found more despicable than the Kiyashi Ward Shopping Mall. Unnecessarily vast, stores spreading endlessly under her gaze, bright colors ready to blind anyone who stared too intently or for too long. And loud. It was so goddamn loud, no matter what time of the day she visited that cursed mall, it was always filled to the brim with obnoxiously loud people — the hustle and bustle of life had never been much of a bother to her, but there, stuck in a crowd that she could barely escape when tucked away in a corner, everything was too much.

In spite of all that, in spite of her boss knowing exactly how much she hated that place, he still sent her there for his ridiculous scouting mission. There was absolutely no point in scouting the place when it was so easy to find a map with every store on it, was there?

She let out a deep sigh and rubbed a hand over her eyes. If it were not for this tenuous task, she could have been home, settled comfortably under a heavy blanket to watch videos of superheroes getting their ass kicked, or compilations of the most awkward superhero moments in superhero history, on her phone. But she was stuck there instead, leaning against a pillar, desperately trying to avoid any sort of physical contact with those who passed too close to her.

"You look so stiff your attitude screams super-villain. Relax and live a little, Overload."

The grating voice came suddenly from her earpiece, making her wince. She could not resist the urge to press a hand to her ear, even though she knew it was useless to chase the noise away.

"Don't call me that," she whispered, not bothering to try to hide her annoyance. She had never felt the need to have a Villain name — she was not one of those people who needed to show with their fancy Quirk and their fancy code-name that bore little to no meaning. Obnoxious.

"Then relax and start looking like you at least aren't here against your will." Her partner's tone was teasing, once again a reminder to live a little. "People are staring. But maybe that's 'cause you're super hot."

Her only response was a groan. It was always like that between the two of them. He tried to tell her to not be so stiff, she complained, he tried to flirt, she ignored him for three days in a row. He was far from being a terrible person, not a constant buzzing annoyance, and his playful flirting could be quite amusing at times (but that much she could not bring herself to say out loud, as it would merely encourage him further). He was no good person either, though. Neither of them was. But that was the whole point, was it not?

She looked up at the floor above her, easily spotting his large figure in the crowd. He was leaning over the railing, watching her with too intense eyes, and all she wanted was to show him her middle fingers. But that was impossible. It would only bring attention to their connection, something they could not afford right now. Discretion was the whole point of their mission today. Observing without being noticed — why their boss would send both their tallest male and female members for such a task was beyond her.

So annoying and entirely useless if you asked her.

"Second store on your left. Big one. Looks like there'd be loads of cameras. Check it out."

Even from down there, she could see that he looked pleased with his suggestion. No matter what that store sold, she already knew that she would hate it and want to burn it to the ground. But she did not speak her mind. She simply hummed, took out her phone to pretend to check something, and made her way to the store that Boomboom had indicated.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," she muttered under her breath at the terrible sight that spread under her eyes like an endless nightmare.

It did not take more than two seconds for a loud laugh to echo in her ear, Boomboom much too happy about her reaction to try to hide his — even though he knew that he needed to be discreet and not bring attention to himself, he was laughing like an idiot. Too pleased with himself and the fact that he had guided her to a superhero merchandise store.

She was surrounded by capes, costumes, mugs, figures, posters, and various decorations that were brightly colored and shaped like the Quirk users that the common folk admired more than they ought to. That store was hell on earth, but she could not afford to run away now that she had stepped inside. She needed to spot every camera in the store, that was her mission. A mission that she hated with a burning passion.

So, instead of fleeing the scene as she wished she could, and escaping that nightmare of a vision, she walked around, pretending to examine the contents of the rows of shelves, picking up a mug here and there only to put in back down. She had to dodge several too excited children screaming about All Might and Kamui Woods and whatever other Pro Hero kids liked nowadays.

It was only when she approached the counter at the back of the store that she found something that piqued her interest. Protected by glass panels, stood a little exhibit of figures, statues, pins, and other memorabilia that she could not help but admire. There was a banner that rested above the shelf, white letters on a beautiful shade of muted red; ‘Heroes Of Our Childhood’ it read.

She knelt in front of the display, her eyes moving from one side of the lowest shelf to the other.

“You like vintage heroes, uh?”

The voice belonged an employee she had spotted when nearing the back of the store. He was not particularly tall or handsome, he was not particularly anything, really. A very plain looking man that she would not have even looked at, had it not been for her mission. He had a kind smile, though — a man who seemed like he could be trusted. But she did not trust anyone.

With a deep breath, she brought a hand up to her earpiece and disconnected it, refusing to let Boomboom hear any part of the conversation that was bound to follow.

“Why aren’t Locked & Loaded together?” she inquired, still too entranced by the display to look at the man.

“You know Locked & Loaded?”

There was a tint of admiration and excitement in the man’s voice, and finally, she looked away from the shelf. The man’s eyes were wide open in surprise, apparently caught off guard by her knowledge.

“We’ve had this display up for a bit over a week now, and nobody has ever noticed that Locked & Loaded are on opposite sides of the shelf,” the employee explained, kneeling by her side. “I had this idea that I would sell them at a reduced price to whoever realized that they belonged in a set, since I never expected that someone would recognize them.”

He scratched at the back of his head, the gesture almost bashful.

“Are you interested in buying them?” he asked, his voice barely containing his excitement. “I can do two-for-one, for someone like you.”

He looked her up and down, his eyes lingering just a second too long on the sliver of skin that peaked between her jeans and crop top. Ah. No matter how kind and trustworthy that man looked, he was one of those guys. She could not point it, could not make a scene, had no desire to bring any attention to herself right now, in the middle of a mission, so she merely shook her head at the offer and tried her best to give him a small smile.

“Regular price, please. The names of heroes like Locked & Loaded shouldn’t be tainted by reduced prices.”

What was she even saying? She should not be refusing such a generous offer when she barely made any money, should not be spewing such chivalrous nonsense about long gone Pro Heroes, but there she was, unable to stop herself from talking. It was a good thing that she had had enough sense to cut the connection with Boomboom, or she would have never heard the end of it — the man loved to tease her more than enough as it was, and he definitely did not need more reasons to keep teasing her.

“Wait for me at the counter while I get Locked & Loaded ready for you!”

She stood up, knees cracking inelegantly as she did, and made her way to the counter as the employee disappeared behind a door. The counter was just as obnoxious as the rest of the store, bright young heroes, and their bright costumes; pins, patches, and other small objects that nobody could possibly have a use for. There were tiny figures standing on the counter as well, far from the high quality and details of the statues she was about to buy. Her eyes landed on one that only appeared taller than the others because of the white bunny ears sprouting from its little head. Tan skin, fluffy ears and a body suit that did not cover any of the taut muscles of the female hero.

"Interested in Mirko?" the employee asked as he came back from the concealed room, large box under his arm.

"A bunny girl?" She blinked, unable to look away from the unexpected hero. "Is this what Pro Heroes have come to?"

The man laughed, "we can’t choose our Quirks, right? She's a rising Pro Hero. Really popular lately, super strong legs. She kicks villain butts!"

She only hummed at the words and finally looked away from the small figure. Bunny hero was weirdly cute, in a way. As cute as extremely muscular heroes in a tight and revealing body suit can be (not all that much, all in all).

The employee reached over the register to grab the small figure and placed it in the bag he had prepared, on top of the box that contained the statues that she was about to waste her money on. Why was she even buying them? It would bring her any sort of joy, would it? She had no idea where in her apartment there even would be room for them. What would she do with a mini bunny girl?

Probably sensing her confusion at the gesture, he spoke up.

“It’s a gift. I’m a fan of Mirko, and I was always a fan of Locked & Loaded, so I hope that one day, you’ll look at Mirko the way you looked at these Locked & Loaded statues.”

The smile he directed at her was soft, kind, genuine, but she could only arc an eyebrow at his words.

“I highly doubt I will ever look at any hero the way I looked at them.”

His smile remained. Obnoxious.

“You never know!”

Definitely obnoxious. People who thought they knew better were insufferable and exhausting to talk to — which was why she always avoided conversations with her boss so carefully.

Her money wasted, credit card back in her pocket, she headed out of the store, not without casting a last glance around the place, making sure that she had spotted every camera there. It was what she had gone inside for, after all, not to buy some Pro Hero merchandise.

“Yo!”

She jumped, every muscle in her body tensing as she readied herself to throw a punch, but Boomboom’s large silhouette was casting a shadow over her, protecting her from the overbearing sun that would have otherwise undoubtedly hurt her eyes.

“You know it’s not good for us to be spotted together, right?”

He only shrugged. Under her questioning gaze, he finally tapped his ear.

“You disconnected. And Bossman said we should head back to HQ.”

Her lips formed a surprised little ‘o’ shape. She had turned off her earpiece to make sure that Boomboom would not hear her talk about superheroes to the employee of that stupid store.

When Boomboom’s eyes fell on the bag clasped in her hand, her grip on it only tightened, and she moved it behind her back, out of his sight, as if it would actually quench his curiosity.

“Whatcha got in there? Don’t you hate Pros more than Bossman does?”

She scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“I bought something so I wouldn’t look too suspicious after looking around for so long. It’s nothing interesting.”

Boomboom’s grin showed too many of his too white teeth.

“Show me!”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Show me or I’ll show myself.”

Boomboom was now frowning, and while she knew that he rarely was grumpy, she was too aware of his insatiably curious personality. She had never minded that particular trait of his; it made him cautious in general and a very good partner for missions, as he never hesitated to do research before going anywhere. But Boomboom also was much taller and had a lot more raw physical strength than she could ever dream to have. If he really wanted to take the bag from her, it would barely take him a minute.

“I’ll show you one thing?” her tone was unsure as she tried negotiation, but Boomboom still smiled, and she knew that it would be enough.

She fished the small bunny girl — no, Pro Hero — figure from the plastic bag and placed it in his large hand. He brought it closer to his face, pushing his sunglasses on top of his head to take a better look at it.

“Mirko the Rabbit Hero?” he questioned, seemingly confused, though he had clearly gotten the name right.

“Yes, bunny girl.”

Finally, he looked away from the small figure to look back at her.

“I didn’t expect her to be your type,” he said, almost too calmly, “but it makes sense. You do seem like you’d like them with abs and big biceps.”

“I look like I would like Pros with abs and big biceps?” It was her turn to be confused.

Boomboom shook his head. “Women. Not Pros.”

She gathered all the patience in her body to let out a sigh instead of unleashing her Quirk at full power in his face. Rather than give him the honor of reacting to his attempt at teasing her, she merely grabbed his arm and started to head for the exit of the cursed mall she had already spent too many hours in. At least it did not feel so bad with him right by her side — no matter how pleased with himself he looked. Boomboom was safe, he felt like home.

#bnha oc #mha oc #mha oc x canon #my hero academy oc #🖊️ overload & bunny girl #pre canon events #mirko isn't official top 5 yet in this #can you tell i'm obsessed with rumi yet?#ANYWAYS #now i go back to trying to write some x reader stuff

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romiithebirdie · 3 years

Text

Epilogue for the Lost - Chapter 4

Had it been fair to make such a critical assumption about Kacchan?

Izuku chewed his food slowly, staring deeply into his rice bowl like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. Several children ran past in the hallway beside the kitchen and he lowered his head all the more, praying nobody would try to speak to him.

The previous night had been... Stressful to say the least and it had taken a mental toll on him. He hoped that he wouldn't be shoved back into group therapy after this whole mess.

Child Protective Services and the police had arrived to escort him to a temporary Foster Home while U.A's Principal Nedzu made preparations to move Izuku into U.A High School's dormitory building until his mother recovered.

The dorms were a last resort for students who had a long way to travel or came from working class families who were struggling financially. Izuku's case didn't exactly fit the usual criteria but it was the best option and Izuku had been happy to accept the offer.

He'd already been back at his apartment and packed a few things to take with him to the dorm and he hadn't been eager to hang around the empty home. The silence gave him a feeling of great discomfort and he could barely hold back his emotions upon seeing the signs of struggle during his mother's attack.

As devastated as he was, he was so thankful that she was still here.

The television from the Home's lounge blared in the background, the fuzzy sound system broadcasting what sounded like the news.

They were talking about something that sounded important; Ketsubutsu Academy High School, he thought he'd heard being mentioned. Izuku knew that school all too well, with it being the rival school to U.A during their monthly events that included athletics competitions and literacy contests.

Ketsubutsu, like U.A, was a famous school for their top performing student records. Izuku mused that whatever the reporter was talking about probably had something to do with some kind of major event the school had recently won or something along those lines. The male reporter was blathering on, using all sorts of long words that Izuku didn't care to hear this early in the morning.

His mind was still occupied with trying to get over his late-night visit back to his apartment with the police.

Izuku had truly felt completely numb after walking around his deserted family home. It had physically hurt watching his guardians lock the doors and as they drove away, he had finally allowed himself to break down in the back of the car.

The eerie silence and the lack of the familiar warmth and welcoming air about the apartment gave off a haunting feeling.

It honestly felt to him like somebody had died there.

Thank God that hadn't happened.

Whenever he thought about wandering the apartment's seclusive structure, it gave him a sense of complete uneasiness which wasn't a nice feeling. At all.

He just wanted to go back home and see the warm, welcoming smile of his mother again.

.-.-.-.-.

"Hey, you hear the news?"

Izuku glanced up from his phone, attention on Eijiro Kirishima, Denki Kaminari and Hanta Sero talking in the corner of 1-A's classroom.

"Yeah, man. His poor family," Sero acknowledged with a nod of his head.

Kaminari cocked a brow up, "Uh no, I didn't. What happened?"

Both Kirishima and Sero exchanged an uncomfortable glance before Kirishima opened his mouth to answer;

"Yo Shindo's body was found this morning just a few yards away from Ketsubutsu's main gate."

Izuku almost dropped his phone in surprise.

Yo Shindo was a highly intelligent student who always finished in the top three for any event he took part in. His strategic ability had always been something to truly admire. Now the three boys were saying he was dead?

Had that really happened?

The three boys were all friendly members of Izuku's class, there was no way they'd make up something so horrible.

"It's not looking good," Sero shook his head. "Can't imagine what they're going through."

"Yeah, real messed up stuff," Kirishima frowned, digging both hands in his blazer pockets. "Whoever did this was so unmanly. Shindo never hurt anybody in his life."

Which was a true statement; Shindo did have a cocky side to him and he schemed a lot during their school competitions...But it was never malicious, he just liked to have strategies to win. Nobody could fault him for that.

Odd how his mother had been attacked yesterday and now a new body had been discovered. Though they hadn't been friends, he was student from a different school that Izuku had been familiar with. Could there be a connection?

"Was anything mentioned about strange writing carved into the skin?" Izuku stood up to face them before his brain could even process what he was doing.

All three boys turned on him, all looking puzzled by the quiet boy's question. Izuku immediately felt his cheeks flare up when he realised how loud he'd been. Several other classmates glanced in his direction and he suddenly wanted the ground to swallow him whole.

"Uh, don't think so," Sero answered with a shrug, thankfully noticing Izuku's nervous disposition and choosing to ignore it with a sympathetic smile.

"Yeah, same with me," Kirishima agreed before his face morphed into an expression of concern. "How have you been doing, Midoriya? We know you're going through a lot right now but we're all here for you if you ever needed to talk."

As nervous as Izuku had been with his new classmates on their first day, he was relieved that they were nothing like the students from Aldera Junior High. He was mainly ignored by everybody in Aldera, due to most of the kids being freaked out by his random outbursts in the past. Meanwhile, the U.A students were all friendly faces which felt...surreal to the green-haired teen if he had to be truly honest with himself.

Despite this, he had gotten quite close with all of the members of 1-A. However, he wasn't in the best mood to start socialising due to the evening prior.

"I-I appreciate it," Izuku gave the three boys a wobbly smile before returning back to his phone. He hoped he had sounded as grateful as he felt, the other teens seemed to understand and went back to their own conversation which was a godsend to Izuku.

Allowing himself to let out a tiny sigh in relief, he then quickly logged into his phone internet and immediately began searching for the latest news stories. With a few clicks, he found what he was searching for;

BODY FOUND OUTSIDE MUSUTAFU SCHOOL GROUNDS

There were a lot more articles listed below the top search.

HIGH SCHOOL SET TO CLOSE WHILE INVESTIGATION GOES UNDERWAY

KETSUBUTSU HIGH SCHOOL STUDENT IDENTIFIED AS SECOND YEAR

Izuku clicked on the third article that identified the victim's name. Scrolling down, he noticed a part of the document that made him feel slightly queasy upon reading it.

The teen was pronounced dead on sight. Along with various stab wounds, a large slash-wound was found across his neck which authorities have confirmed to be the cause of this tragic outcome. Our thoughts and prayers are with this boy's family.

Izuku chewed on his bottom lip, a nagging thought in the back of the head about whether or not these two major incidents had been connected or not. It was just weird that both attacks happened around the same areas and had occurred several hours after one another.

Maybe he should stop looking into it and leave the investigation to the police. After all, he still had the undead clamouring for his attention so he had enough to deal with as it was.

Still… Izuku glanced at the news article one last time before closing it completely and placing his phone back into his bag.

Perhaps it would be best to not look further into these things.

His phone buzzed from inside the back and he let out a small sigh, deciding whether or not to check it. From the singular motion, he'd probably either received a notification from the device or a text message.

It'd make sense to leave it until after class but then again…

What if it was his mother checking in on him?

With that in mind, Izuku immediately snatched his bag from the ground and rummaged around inside the front pockets until his fingers stroked the familiar plastic phone case.

It was a text message, judging from the little blinking envelope icon. Izuku unlocked the device with an apology ready to write to explain that his teacher would be arriving shortly.

However, the message wasn't from his mother.

Frowning slightly at the UNKNOWN NUMBER across his phone screen, Izuku hovered his finger over the touchpad before quickly pressing on the Read button.

Hi Deku.

Izuku froze in his seat, his entire body going rigid.

What the hell was this?

The only person that had ever called him Deku was...

He winced at the memory, knowing that he should've probably just ignored the mystery texter but his fingers acted before his brain could catch up.

Who is this?

How did you get this number?

Another message immediately appeared under the first one;

You'll see soon enough.

Was that supposed to be some kind of threat?

Swallowing thickly, Izuku stared at the screen completely frozen in place. What on earth did you say in response to something like that?

Oh one more thing. You know what happened with your mother?

The teen inhaled slowly. Three dots appeared, indicating the person was typing.

Should he switch the phone off?

But then it buzzed for the final time and he bit down on his bottom lip, dreading whatever was about to be said.

And he was right to feel anxious about it;

That bitch had it coming.

#epilogue for the lost #my writing #bnha fanfiction #my hero academia fanfiction #izuku midoriya #class 1-a #murder mystery #afo is hisashi midoriya #dfo

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creepy-spooghetti · 3 years

Text

A Hapless Endearment [Creepypasta x F. Reader]

Chapter 10 - Tag, You’re It

_____

Jack doesn't return for several minutes, though she can hear the sound of muffled talking from the confines of another room nearby. The words are incoherent and muffled, but considering that there's nobody else in this house that she knows of, she guesses that he's on the phone, mostly based on the fact that the only voice she can hear is Jack's. She ponders what he said to her and tucks her knees into her chest, trying to tame the steadily rising fear that's making itself more and more apparent in her chest.

She knew from the beginning of all this chaos that there had to be a deeper meaning buried beneath the surface, even though she didn't want to acknowledge it and instead opted to come up with valid explanations for everything that happened, reasons that wouldn't make her seem crazy. But now? Now, it doesn't look like she has another option but to accept it. She has to admit, Jack made some pretty reasonable points, even if the points in question take a great suspension of disbelief. How else is she supposed to explain the things that have taken place over the past several days? She didn't have a clue about what was happening and why it was happening, and now she does. But is it the honest-to-God truth?

Being stalked by some supernatural being is definitely hard to believe, but so is mentally predicting the death of one's aunt and uncle, being kidnapped by someone without eyes, and subconsciously drawing some kind of freaky symbol. She hasn't another explanation for all of the eerie occurrences lately, what else is she supposed to think? At least she's been provided with an answer—whether that answer is correct or not has yet to be solved—but it's still an answer. It's more information than she could ever get out of her grandparents or anyone else. A therapist probably wouldn't even know what's going on with her. This way, she has a theory to go off of, something to build around until she finds something more... realistic. More believable.

Her eyes flick up to Jack as he re-enters the room, being ultimately pulled from her deep thoughts and watching him stuff, what she identifies as a phone, into his pocket. He turns her direction, his uncanny oozing gaze sending goosebumps up the length of her arms. "There will be someone over here in a bit to pick you up and take you to Brian's house. She's bringing a pair of shoes with her, too."

Oh, it's a girl. Maybe I can find some common ground and convince her to let me go. Unless she's trapped here too... She brushes a strand of hair behind her ear and sits more naturally in the chair, her feet meeting the hardwood floor and her posture straightening to come across as more intimidating. Granted, she knows she isn't going to intimidate this monster of a man, but it makes her feel a little safer anyway.

"Who is she?" Her words are sharp and straight-to-the-point as she stares up at his tall frame in an attempt to seem, for the most part, fearless.

"Wisteria. Don't get your hopes up, she's almost as bad as Jeff." Releasing a huff, she rolls her eyes though chooses not to respond. "Do you want a glass—no, sorry—do you want a cup of water?" He puts great emphasis on the word 'cup', indirectly reminding her of the way she launched the glass at his head in an attempt to escape previously. It did work out in the end, she supposes, and she would have actually gotten out of this place had Jeff's hellhound for a dog not taken it upon himself to chomp down on her ankle and keep her firmly planted where she laid in the dirt until someone came to retrieve her. That 'someone' being Jeff.

"What, so you can poison me?" She mutters, crossing her arms stubbornly. "I think I'll pass."

"Did you not hear anything I just told you a few minutes ago?" He sighs, running gloved fingers through his copper-brown hair. "If I wanted to hurt you I would have done it by now." Ignoring the dryness in her throat, no doubt from lack of water, she only stares up at him with an obstinate expression, refusing to take anything that he has to offer. After a couple of moments, he too crosses his arms. "Ya know, it won't do you much good if you dehydrate and end up dying anyway."

"I'd rather dehydrate than trust you with anything." They continue to stare at each other for what feels like minutes when in reality it's only around ten seconds before Jack shakes his head in defeat.

"Fine. Suit yourself." He takes a seat on the couch, being mindful to keep a fair amount of distance between himself and Y\n, and leans back to get more comfortable. "I know this is a lot to process, but you're gonna have to get used to the fact that you can't go back home. You can't see your family again, it would be too dangerous for both yourself and them."

"Is that a threat?"

"No. It's a warning. You go back home, try to live a normal life, and you eventually snap. You'd be compelled to go to the very thing you've been trying to avoid and kill whoever got in your way. Even if that includes your family." She leers at him through skeptical e\c eyes, comprehending what he's telling her and trying to brush away the feeling of trepidation that rises within her stomach. "It's happened before. I've seen it, too many times to be proud of. It isn't a nice process."

"You're crazy if you actually think I'd kill someone, much less my own family." It's true that she has less-than-desirable parents, but there's no way that she'd ever lose herself enough to physically harm them or take their lives. She isn't a bad enough kid to do something like that, not even under the direst of circumstances. Especially if it involves her grandparents. They've shown her nothing but kindness and support, why on earth would she ever murder them? The very thought sends shivers down her spine.

"Denial is something most people express at first. But it would happen, whether you wanted it to or not." She shakes her head, furrowing her eyebrows together in objection.

"I would never."

"You say that, but you don't know what he's capable of. You don't know how much power he possesses." She averts her gaze to the ground, hugging her torso insecurely and listening to the slightly muffled words that leave Jack's mouth. "He drives you mad. It may start off subtle, maybe you'll have some bad dreams, or minor coughing fits, nothing too concerning. But it will get worse, and worse, and soon you'll be seeing things that aren't there, becoming paranoid because at every turn you feel like something's watching you, but you don't know where or by what. You'll isolate yourself, refuse to talk to anyone, become distant from your friends, your family, society as a whole. And it will continue getting worse, and worse, and worse until you're at your breaking point. You'll just want it all to stop, you'll just want it to be over. You'll be desperate. So you'll listen to him, obey his commands. He'll take you to your breaking point, all without lifting a finger."

The words leave his mouth slowly, making the situation all the more unnerving. There's a sinister kind of truth to what he says that makes an eerie fog blanket her mind in a sense of dread and impending doom. He's right. She knows he's right. There isn't definite proof, but the very tone of his voice and his serious posture tells her right then. He isn't lying. This is real. This is all real, no matter how much she may try to deny it.

Letting out a shaky sigh, she rubs her face with her hands and attempts to slow the rapid beating of her heart. One question floats to the top of all of her thoughts, and she picks it up and analyzes it for a few moments before speaking. "...Why me?" She sees him tilt his head to the side a bit, silently questioning her inquiry and asking for clarification. She happily delivers. "Why, out of seven billion people, does it want me?" She scrapes a hand through her hair in an effort to compose herself, her voice trembling. "What did I do to attract it? I'm just...I'm just a normal person. Why would it want me to do...whatever?"

He takes a few seconds to respond, stringing the words together in his head and coming up with the best possible answer. "I...I don't know." He shrugs lightly, craning his neck toward the couch beneath him. "You told me you had some family issues. He preys on the weak and vulnerable. If you've been going through stressful things, that's likely to be a big contributor to the reason he chose you."

"So you're telling me that I'm being hunted by a paranormal entity because I have garbage for parents?" She chokes down the bile threatening to rise in her throat. "How is that my fault?"

"It doesn't have to be," he simply says, shifting in his seat to better face her. "He's attracted to whoever is at a bad time in life and isn't handling it very well. If you've been stressed, he'll try to get you. It isn't always the victim's fault." Thoughts swarm her mind, though they zip by so quickly she barely has time to process each one before the next one takes its place. But one question manages to stand out above the rest, and she stares at the floor intently.

"But... but I've been going through stuff for years and I haven't had any problems like what's been happening recently until I got here." Her eyes shift up to his featureless, navy-blue mask curiously. "If it wanted me, why didn't it start before?"

"It's difficult to stalk someone and drive them insane when they're in the middle of a city," he says after a moment. "He probably knew about you before, at least to a point, but he couldn't really get to you until you were closer to where he resides." She gulps, eyes glistening with unfallen tears of dismay. "He wanted you more isolated. He can affect you easier that way."

"He's only after me, right?" Worry blooms in her chest and she leans forward absentmindedly. "My... my grandparents aren't a target, too? It's just me?"

"I doubt he'd have anything to do with two people like that, unless..." He pauses, and she presses her lips together in an anxious line.

"Unless?" Her voice holds a sense of distress. "Unless what?"

"Unless..." She can tell he's hesitant to finish his thought, though if it concerns the well-being of Nana and Pops, she won't stand for any unanswered questions. "...well, unless he wanted to use them. To manipulate you."

"How would he do that?" Now fully invested in the conversation, she tries to stabilize her breathing as she stares impatiently at Jack, desperate to get a response.

"He has different tactics. It'd be hard to say which one he'd use on you." Releasing a tremulous breath and trying to ease the nervous pit in her stomach, she clenches her fists.

"Would he hurt them?" For now, she's going to assume both of them are still alive and well, though utterly frantic over her sudden disappearance. Jack hasn't given any proof that he didn't harm them in any way, but she'd rather think about the possibility of life over the possibility of death.

"I don't know. He might."

"Well, then I have to get back to them!" She shoots up from her sitting position, causing a wave of dizziness to wash over her and nearly make her stumble to the floor, but she manages to keep her balance before that can happen. "So let me go."

"Y\n, being irrational isn't going to get you anywhere."

"I'm not being irrational!" She shoots a glare at where he still sits on the couch, starting to limp her way to the front door. "I'm being a good granddaughter. I'm not letting them get hurt." He sighs, a sound that's really beginning to get on her nerves, and slowly stands. She backs away warily in response.

"Your grandparents are fine. He likely won't even do anything that involves them because they're so far away from you now." Just how far away from them is she really?

"Where did you bring me then??"

"I can't tell you. Not yet." He eases closer to her, and she eyes the door. She isn't getting anywhere with her ankle being the way it is, and she knows it. But it's worth another try, right? She darts across the rest of the living room, but before she can even get close to grabbing the knob, a pair of strong arms wrap around her torso and pull her back. Despite her attempts at freedom, his hold doesn't even loosen.

"Let me go, Jack!"

"You already know that isn't going to happen." She lets out an exasperated groan, trying not to put pressure on her injury as she struggles fruitlessly against the tall male currently holding her back and succeeding, much to her displeasure. "You need to calm down."

"How am I supposed to 'calm down'? The only two people who actually give a crap about me are in danger!" She growls, attempting to kick him in the leg or elbow him in the gut, though he skillfully dodges each time and locks onto her tighter, remaining unphased by her actions.

"And you'll be putting them in even more danger if you go back. You heard what I said. Do you really want to hurt your own family?"

"Just shut up! I'd never do something like that. Not if my life depended on it."

"Well, it would. Y\n, you don't understand." He effortlessly spins her around to face him, her neck having to bend upward due to the large height difference between the two of them. She watches the tar-like substance as it leisurely drips from his empty sockets and down his mask before having to glance away. "Once you get to that point, he controls you. He owns you. He can make you do whatever he deems necessary to please him, and you can't stop it." She huffs, biting her bottom lip and holding back distressed tears. "Do you really want that to happen to you?"

She brings both her hands up and pushes harshly against his chest to create some kind of space between them before crossing her arms and sending him a glare, gathering the nerve to look directly into the vacant pits in his head. "I don't want any of this to happen to me," she mumbles, taking deep breaths just to stop herself from crying. "I just want to go home and be with people I love." The words leave her lips as a harsh whisper, voice cracking in the process.

"That can't happen." His tone changes from mildly irritated to sympathetic in an instant, and he takes a small step back in an effort to make her feel more comfortable. "I'm sorry."

She uses the back of her arm to wipe away a stray tear that had begun rolling down her cheek as her gaze lingers toward the hallway. She doesn't want to be anywhere near Jack, or anybody besides her grandparents. She wants out of this mess. At least she knows it isn't her fault, not completely anyway. Not that the thought soothes her very much, but it's something. "...Where's the bathroom?" It comes out as a half-hearted demand, and he answers immediately.

"First door to the right." She nods in silent gratitude and starts walking that way, ignoring the bit of pain that erupts through the bottom half of her leg as she does so. Once inside the desired room, she shuts the door behind her, flicks on the light, and tries to calm her fast, unsteady breathing and erratic heart rate. What is she supposed to do? Take Jack's word for it and stay here? Escape and try to find the way to a police station? Neither option sounds too appealing at the moment. She doesn't forget the words Jeff used before he ever so kindly walked her back to her kidnapper's house.

"Cops don't scare me. I've dealt with way, way worse than guns and tasers."

It sounded like a threat, and given the brief, though memorable, interaction with Jeff she had, it's very probable that's exactly what it was. A threat. Like he was telling her if she managed to break free and get the police involved, he'd hunt her down and wipe out everyone within his path. And it wouldn't bother him a bit. Of course it wouldn't, if he's crazy enough to supposedly carve a smile into his face, then he's crazy enough not to care in the least as he straight-up murders people.

How could somebody be so... twisted? Is it the doing of that thing, the one Jack informed her about? Or is it something totally different? Well, if she's going to be here a while, as she assumes she will be whether she likes it or not, then she'll be sure to gather as many details about the ones that live around here as she can. Maybe she can ask that girl that's supposed to be coming by with shoes, according to Jack. What's her name? Wendy? Whitney? Wanda?

No, dummy, it was a flower. She's named after a flower... Petunia? Lily? She shakes her head in disregard. That isn't even close. The bathroom is small, with a sink counter to her right, a toilet to the side of that, a tub to her left, and a slender cabinet ahead of her, right beside a window. The thought only crosses her mind briefly to use the window to escape; not only is it too high for her to properly reach without some kind of boost, but it's too small for her to even begin trying to squeeze through.

Nausea bubbles in her stomach as she thinks more and more about her hopeless situation. How does she handle this? Her whole existence just got flipped upside-down in the matter of a few hours. She doesn't know where she is, the people around her seem completely off their rocker, and her grandparents are at risk of being hurt, or possibly even killed by some other-worldly creature that she's seen a grand total of once, and that sighting was vague. What about that one time she saw that figure in the woods? The one with the white mask? Was that a hallucination, or was it real too?

She has no way of knowing for sure, and that thought alone makes her want to collapse and cry until she can't anymore about her misfortune. But she won't, not right now. Instead, she throws herself at the sink, desperate to rid herself of the foul taste filling her mouth and swallowing the vomit creeping up her throat. She turns on the faucet and welcomes the cool water that spills out, pressing her lips against it and gulping it down. She savors the pristine liquid as it slips down her throat, bringing an end to the dryness she felt in it prior and relieving her of the discomfort.

Letting out a strangled cough, she turns the faucet off and looks up, only now noticing the large piece of cloth—presumably an old sheet or blanket—covering the area where a mirror usually is placed. She lifts the corner of it up, only to find that there is, indeed, a mirror underneath, but finding herself a bit perplexed. Why would there be a sheet blocking the mirror? Did Jack do it? Does he not like to look at himself?

How would he see himself if he doesn't have eyes? She knits her eyebrows together, sniffling and licking some residual water away from her lips to stop it from dribbling down her chin. But he seems to move around just fine as if he can see where he's going. She's already established that he isn't normal, but just how not-normal is he? How does one see without eyes? Does he have some kind of sixth sense that allows him to somehow know his surroundings? If the whole 'no eyes' thing is only part of his mask, it's definitely fooled her. It looks so... so real. Just like every other aspect of him.

If he's like that, and Jeff is like that, then what do the other ones look like? She knows that there have to be others, Jack made that blatantly obvious by mentioning someone named Brian and the other named...Daisy? No, that's not it either. How much freakier is it going to get for her? Just how many more psychos has she yet to come across? She isn't too eager to find out. Jack's bad enough, and though he hasn't given her any more reason to hate him, the fact still stands that he took her from her house. Not only that, but he drugged her to do so, and before that, tricked her. Lied, right to her face, all to make her think he was trustworthy. Which he clearly is not.

She isn't sure whether to feel mad, betrayed, or a mixture of both. No, the two weren't friends, but they had talked for quite a while and she had told him things about herself that she certainly wouldn't tell some grey-skinned, eyeless thing. Is he even human? He doesn't look like one. She thought that there was a sort of bond that had sparked between the two of them during their encounter, though now she knows it was just a big, dirty trick.

She sighs through her nose, rubbing her eyes and leaning against the counter. Should she have just stayed home? Sure, she didn't really have a choice but to go to her grandparents' house while her mom and dad went wherever their work lead them, but she knows for a fact that her father in particular would have much preferred to keep her away from them. For some reason though, he had still hauled her off to a place she hasn't visited since she was eleven years old. It may have had something to do with Y\n refusing, under any circumstances, to stay at the penthouse with their absolute snob of a nanny, all alone, for God-knows how many weeks on end.

And seeing as how her mother's parents weren't an option, it was either her father's or summer camp. The last time she was at summer camp, she didn't have a very good experience, and pair that with all of the people in a hurry to make fun of her just because they're jealous of her parents' money, yeah, her grandparents were the better option by a long shot. But... if she would have just stayed home, would this have happened? Would Nana and Pops still be safe? Would she still be leading a generally boring, miserable life? Jack said himself that the creature chasing after her wouldn't be able to reach her in a populated area, like a city, and that's why he only now started attacking her. Because she was easy bait.

Is this actually her fault? Could she have avoided all of this had she just stopped being stubborn and stayed put in her home? What if Nana and Pops get killed if they aren't already? All because of her want to reach out to and see family that actually still care about her? Throwing around blame isn't going to help anything. Though that's what she tells herself, she can't help but think about it and feel guilty.

If I'm dreaming, now would be a good time to wake up. It all feels a bit too realistic to be a dream at this point, but she still clings to that little sliver of hope that this whole charade has been something her mind created while she's unconscious, and that soon she'll awake, perfectly healthy in her bed, with no giant noodle man to worry about, or crazy weirdos with masks, or strange dreams, unexplained dizzy spells and coughing fits. No whacky symbols. That would be incredible, even though she knows that really, she's never that lucky. It's all actually happening, and there's no way to escape it.

She doesn't even try to stop the tears that softly slip down her cheeks and make tiny little drip noises when they land in the porcelain bowl beneath her, only huffing in agitation and dipping her head to collect her bearings. And I thought I had a screwed-up life before...

After a few minutes, she's able to compose herself and gather enough courage to step back outside into the hallway, glancing toward the living room and catching sight of Jack on the couch, book in hand, and head craned down as if reading the words on the pages. Now how does that work? She steps forward, and at the sound of another presence nearing, he tilts his head up and meets her eyes with his soulless black pits.

She pauses under his gaze, nerves jumping with unease at his attention before she continues walking, stopping to idly lean against the wall farthest from him. "You okay?" His voice makes her flinch slightly, having not expected him to speak and break the tense silence that had built between them, though she's able to blow it off and act as if nothing happened.

"No," she says, tone harsh as she crosses her arms and drops her gaze down to the floor. "Why would I be 'okay'? This isn't exactly an everyday occurrence."

"I know, I know." He folds his book over and rests it in his lap, slanting forward slightly. "I'm not expecting you to be alright with this. Not for a while, at least." She narrows her eyes at him and presses her lips together. "I just need you to understand that this is your best option. It ensures both your safety and your family's safety."

"You just told me that my family could be used to manipulate me." Her tone is taut and her eyebrows furrow together, peering at him through resentful e\c orbs. "That doesn't sound very 'safe' to me."

"Yes, and then I said he probably won't feel the need to use them at all because you're so far away from where they live." He straightens his posture and tilts his head. "Trust me, going back would be more dangerous."

"And what if he does decide to 'use' them, huh? What then?" It takes a few infuriating moments for him to respond, and she shuffles around on her feet a bit to give him a well-aimed glare. He either doesn't notice or chooses to ignore it.

"We'll have to cross that bridge if we come to it." She opens her mouth to complain, to say something along the lines of, 'no freaking way am I standing aside and letting my grandparents become targets for some freak of nature,' but before she can there are three firm raps on the door, coming from the outside. It startles her, and she cautiously averts her gaze to the source of the sudden noise.

Jack moves the curtain to the side and glances out through the window placed directly behind the couch, seemingly checking for who could possibly be at the door. "Relax, it's alright." He stands to his feet and heads toward the wooden portal. She sends him a questioning look, and he motions outside. "Wisteria's here."

#creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #female reader #Y\n L\n #Eyeless Jack #Jack Nichols #Eyeless Jack x reader #creepypasta x female reader

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janeyseymour · 3 years

Text

Secret Santa

My wonderful friend Ay had an idea to do a white elephant with this bunch? I don’t really understand white elephant, so I changed it a bit, and uh... this was born. I hope you enjoy!

Every year since being reincarnated, the queens did a secret santa gift exchange. This year, they added the entire diner crew. Fluff ensues.

Christmas was coming, and as usual, Jane was in the Christmas spirit as much as anybody else.

“Every year, we do a secret santa exchange between the queens and I know for a fact the others wouldn’t mind if you and your family joined in on the fun!” the queen explained to her waitress friend.

“It honestly might be better that way,” Aragon let out a laugh. “We all end up finding out who our secret santa is before we exchange gifts anyway.”

“We’d love to do that!”

“Sounds great! So, we normally draw names, well... tonight. And then, on Christmas Eve we usually exchange gifts. Although, I’m sure we could do another night if you would rather celebrate Christmas Eve with just Lulu and Jim. You’re more than welcome to hang out with us that day too though! And oh, Becky, Dawn and Ogie will surely be around too right? Maybe even Cal? We’d be more than happy to have you all. Although, again, it really wouldn’t be offensive to us if-”

“Jane, you’re rambling.”

“Oh, dammit. Sorry,” the silver queen apologized.

“There’s really nothing to apologize for. We’d love to celebrate Christmas Eve with you, and I’m sure everyone would love to participate in the secret santa exchange!”

The group of thirteen gathered at the diner one night, ready to pick names out of a hat.

“Okay, the rule is, if you pick yourself, you have to redraw. We don’t need another situation like last year,” Jane laughed, giving a pointed look at the fourth queen. The previous year, Anna had picked herself and bought herself a new car- one she crashed and totalled approximately a week later.

“Oh god, don’t remind me Seymour,” the red queen groaned in embarrassment.

“Who’s first?” When no one made a move, the blonde looked towards the youngest one there. “Well Lu?”

The girl in pigtails stuck her hand in the bowl with all of the names and picked. Thankfully, she was excelling in her reading and knew how to read each and every person’s name there. She opened it up, not letting anybody see who she had, and grinned.

“You didn’t get yourself, right love?”

“Nope! I got the perfect person!” Jane. She had gotten her Aunt Janey.

The group continued to pick until everyone had someone. Nobody had gotten themselves, and everybody had kept it a secret.

“So the other rule is it has to fit in a plastic bag from the diner. That way, when everyone brings their presents over, it isn’t given away who had who based on the bag everyone carries in. “And yes, we learned this from previous years.”

Cathy laughed, fondly remembering the time she had figured out who had who based on the bags they all carried in and who ended up with the gift bags before they had even started opening presents.

“And one final thing, keep the name of the person you have in your hand. That’s the tag we use so we can’t identify others by their writing.” Kat let out a laugh, remembering she knew in previous years who her secret santa was based on handwriting alone.

And so, there they were on Christmas Eve, having eaten more than they had on Thanksgiving and laughing more than they ever had.

“Lu, are you excited for Santa to come?” Anne bounced the little one in her lap.

“I am! I hope Santa brings you guys everything you want too!” The girl beamed, always thinking of others. “Can we start our secret santa present thingy so I can go to bed so Santa can come?”

“I think that’s a great idea miss Lu!” Jenna beamed at her daughter. It was becoming a hassle to get her daughter to go to bed these days, so her wanting to go to bed was a welcomed change.

“So, how do you guys run this thing?” Becky looked towards Jane for guidance.

“Well, we usually all sit on the floor in a circle,” Jane began and gestured for everyone to move before continuing. “And since we all put our bags under the tree, why don’t we just all pass the bags out? Lulu can start since she’s the youngest, and then whoever her secret santa is can go next and so on. Who wants to play Santa this year?”

“Me!” Lulu’s hand shot up, and she was out of the second queen’s lap in an instant.

The little one had passed out everyone’s presents, and

“Go ahead little Lu,” Anne beamed, hoping that her younger friend would like her gift.

The girl opened her present with no hesitation, her mouth agape once she saw what was in the bag: a new apron with all of the queens’ assigned colors in stripes with the addition of a purple stripe. “Woah! This is amazing! Thank you secret santa! I love it!”

“Who do you think gave you the gift?” Jim questioned.

“I don’t know, but whoever did, thank you!” Lulu exclaimed, already having put the apron on proudly.

“Hun, the point of the game is to guess who gave you the gift,” Becky told her gently.

“Oh!” the girl laughed, a bit confused but happy to go along with the game. “I think... Lina!”

“Wasn’t me mija,” the first queen shrugged. “Guess again?”

“Aunt Janey?”

“Good guess love, but it wasn’t me either. One more guess,” the silver queen laughed.

“Annie?”

“Bingo!” The green queen exclaimed. Lulu immediately launched herself at the woman with space buns.

“Oh my gosh Annie, thank you so much! I love it!”

“I’m glad you like it! I worked pretty hard on it!” Nobody but Jane knew the truth in that statement. The second queen had caved and asked- no. begged- Jane to teach her how to sew in order to make this present.

“I love it! It has all of your colors from the show! But, what’s this purple here for?”

“Well, I figured, you might like to have your own color!”

(Lulu would claim her favorite color was purple for the rest of her life.)

“Okay Annie, it's your turn to open your present!”

“Wheels for my heelies? Bro! This could be anyone!”

“Look a little closer,” Becky stifled a laugh.

“What? Wait, turtles? This could only be from Dawn!”

“You caught me,” the waitress with glasses blushed.

(The silly queen would always make sure to put these wheels in when Dawn was around.)

“A new turtle pin!” Dawn grinned and happily attached it to her shirt. “Thank you to uh,” the waitress glanced at it and remembered all of the queens’ respected colors. “Catherine!”

“I think it’s safe to say everyone here has earned the right to call me Catalina, or even Lina,” the first wife said genuinely.

“Thank you Lina.” Dawn smiled at the nickname.

(That pin became her second favorite- right under the turtle pin that Ogie gave her as a wedding present.)

“These are beautiful.” The golden queen admired the beautiful earrings that she had received.

“Any guesses?”

“Jane?”

“It wasn’t me, and I really don’t know who it’s from,” the blonde said earnestly.

“Cathy?”

“Not from me.”

“Jenna?” The head waitress shook her head no.

“What the-”

“It’s from me,” the usually gruff cook said shyly as he raised his hand quietly.

“Thank you Cal.” Catherine went about taking her Christmas earrings out and putting her new ones in. “They’re beautiful.”

“I hope you like them.”

(Catherine wore them to a press junket. Cal noticed and smiled to himself. He was glad she liked them enough to wear on a red carpet. When the gold queen was asked about the beautiful earrings, she was happy to tell the world a close friend named Cal gave them to her.)

“A new apron? And a new spatula?” Cal looked confused. In reality, this could be from anyone. “Jenna?” the brunette made a ‘no’ gesture. “Jim?”

“Nope.”

“Look a little closer at the spatula,” Cathy spoke up. “ Tis an ill cook that cannot lick his own fingers” was engraved into it.

“Shakespeare?” Cal looked a bit bewildered.

“It means that if a cook can’t bear to eat his own food, he isn’t a very good cook, and we all know you’re one of the best around,” Cathy explained, a tint of red shading her face. “And I’ve noticed that your apron is stapled to keep it together. Figured you might like a new one.”

“I- Thanks Cath.” The man smiled one of the most genuine smiles any of his coworkers had ever seen. Jenna would be sure to tell Cathy how much that present had meant to him, because the lord knew that Cal wasn’t very good at expressing his feelings.

(It didn’t go unnoticed that the spatula was used exactly once before it hung in a shadowbox that the cook would touch for good luck every time he walked into the diner for the rest of his time working.)

“Bookmarks? This could quite literally be from anyone,” the writer laughed. “Who do I have left to choose from?” She surveyed the room before noticing that a certain mother wouldn’t look her in the eye. “Jenna?”

“Yeah?”

“How did you know I needed new bookmarks?” She truly thought that only her fellow queens would pick up on the fact that she was using strange objects as bookmarks.

“I’ve seen the way you’ll use anything as a bookmark, but I’ve never seen you use a proper bookmark,” Jenna explained. “For crying out loud, I saw you use a soda can tab the other day.”

“I-” the sixth queen was truly stunned. And then, she got a closer look at the bookmarks. They were beautiful- all different shades of blue, but each had delicate details and accents with her fellow queens colors. “These are beautiful. Thank you.”

(She would go on to use these bookmarks for the rest of her days, alternating between the different bookmarks.)

“A new pie dish!” the baker exclaimed with glee. “Oh how wonderful! Thank you!”

“Who’s it from?” Jim questioned.

“It’s from-,” Jenna eyed up the pie dish for a long while before catching that on the side in small and crisp writing it read, “ all i wanna do is bake... all i do is sing... all i do is bake and sing” “-Thank you Kat.”

“You’re welcome,” the pink haired queen tried to say it casually. “Hope you like it.”

“I love it. And I love the reference to the musical.”

(Whenever she brought over pie to the queens from that day forward, she made sure to bake it in the pie dish that the fifth queen had gifted her.)

“A book on American history...?” Katherine grinned, knowing exactly who gave it to her. “Thank you Ogie.”

“I thought since you liked British history so much, you might like to read up on American history now that you live in the states,” Ogie offered. “If you don’t like it though, I can surely think of something else to get you.”

“That won’t be necessary. I love it. Thank you.”

(Kat would stay up late into the night reading about the fascinating history of the country she now resided in. Cathy would find her asleep the next morning with the book in her lap before leaving the room. She returned with the bookmark matched with her friend’s color and bookmark the page for her, but not before attaching a sticky note that read, “ I expect this to be returned to me when you wake up.” When Ogie was playing Paul Revere the next time, the fifth queen was in the front row watching her friend reenact her new favorite part of history.)

“Wow! This is beautiful! Almost an exact replica of the one the Paul Revere wears in my reenactments! Thank you!”

“Well, who do you think got it for you hun?” Dawn also admired the new coat her husband had just been given.

“I- I- I, Cleves?” he guessed. Surely, this was a rather expensive gift, and everyone knew that the red queen had money to spare.

“Nope, wasn’t me.”

“Becky?”

“You wish. I’m not going to encourage your-”

“That’s enough Becky. My daughter is in the room,” Jenna scolded her boisterous friend.

“She won’t encourage his what, Mama?” the little girl in the room stared up at her mother with wide eyes.

“Nothing to worry about hun. Just some adult stuff.” The baker hoped that would be enough. It seemed to work- the girl was back to asking Ogie who he thought gave him the coat.

“Jim?”

“I thought you might like to have it the next time you go on for Revere. That other guy’s coat is huge on you.”

“Thank you Jim!” The elf-man lunged to hug his friend.

“This tie is stunning Jane,” the lanky doctor said confidently.

“How’d you know it was me?” The silver queen was shocked. She didn’t think it was that obvious who she had. She certainly didn’t slip up and tell Jenna either.

“It’s silver.”

“Oh.” In all honesty, the blonde didn’t even realize she had bought a tie in the color that she had been assigned all those years ago. She was just drawn to it.

“Thank you.”

(Jim wore the tie to the second opening night for SiX on broadway many years later. Jane cried when she recognized the tie.)

“Aren’t you going to open your gift?” Cleves asked the third queen expectantly.

“Oh, I guess I just got so... wrapped up in watching everyone else open their gifts!” The punniest queen grinned.

“Just for that, you lose your turn. You go last,” Cleves retorted as she went to open her present.

“Well, I only know one woman who would buy me a designer athletic bag. Thank you Becky!” the red queen acknowledged the rowdy waitress.

“Yeah, yeah. Not a problem. I figured you might like to carry your things in it instead of that small little bag you have.”

“Thank you.”

(Anna of Cleves would use that bag until it ripped, and then she retired it so that she could keep it forever. Becky would be happy to buy her another bag when she needed it.)

“Cleves!” Becky gasped.

“What?”

“These shoes!”

“I’ve seen the shoes you guys wear while you’re waitressing. I read up on these shoes a lot. They’re supposedly really comfortable and they’re stunning. All leather.”

(Becky was more than happy to throw away the ratty pair of shoes she had been wearing since Jenna started working at Joe’s Diner all those years ago and replace them with the shoes Cleves had bought her. And when a new pair showed up at her house a few years later with a note that read: bitchin’ kicks! , well, Becky let out a full-on belly laugh.)

And that left Jane to open her present.

“Well, go on, open it hun,” Jenna encouraged her friend.

Jane was expecting some sort of artwork from the little girl who was no doubt her secret santa. What she wasn’t expecting was a handmade mug with the little girl’s thumbprints in the shape of a heart- under it reading “ Best Aunt”. At the sight of it, the blonde’s eyes welled with tears.

“Thank you Lulu,” she choked out.

“What is it?” Anne asked, curious as to what could elicit such a reaction from her costar.

“It’s a best aunt mug,” Jane whispered.

“Hey, I thought that was me! You little rascal!” both Anna and Becky exclaimed at the same time.

“D-do you like it Aunt Janey?” Lulu stood from her spot in her mother’s lap and resituated herself in the third queen’s, hugging her.

“I absolutely love it, and I love you. It’s perfect. Thank you so much honey.”

(Jane would never use another mug again, nor did she let anyone else in the house use it. It was her mug, and no one dared to touch it.)

After the gift exchange was over, the group settled in to watch a movie, more than happy to spend all of the time in the world together. The youngest member of the group hadn’t strayed from her surrogate aunt’s side, more than happy to snuggle into the warmth that the older woman radiated. It wasn’t long before she was snoring quietly in the arms of her favorite queen.

“You’re all more than welcome to stay the night if you want,” Catherine offered knowing how tired the bunch had become.

“As much as we’d love to,” Jim began before Jenna interrupted.

“It might be easier to have her just sleep here instead of trying to get her into the car and then into bed without her waking up.”

“That’s a fair point. But, all of the gifts are at our house babe.”

“Hey, it’s not a big deal if you guys stay, and it’s not a big deal if you don’t stay. We all know you’re all gonna end up here again in the morning anyway, so it’s totally up to you.” Anne waved a dismissive hand.

“We wouldn't want to impose,” Dawn muffled a yawn.

“We’ve got more than enough room between the living room and the basement, but it’s up to you,” Cathy mumbled, half asleep against Catherine.

“If you guys don’t mind,” Jenna smiled. The six queens all quickly reminded her that it was their idea. “Okay, so Santa’s presents are still at my house, so we’re gonna have to-”

“I’ll go with Jim and get it all together for you, don’t worry Jenna,” Ogie offered.

“I’ll go with them. They need a man to get this job done.” Cal stood and grabbed his coat, the other two men following suit.

“Alright girls, head to bed, Jenna and I can stay up for the boys.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Becky grumbled, picking herself up and heading towards the basement, pulling a half-asleep Dawn with her.

“Goodnight Janey,” the queens all stood and kissed the mother figure of the house on the cheek before retreating to their rooms.

“I better take Lu down-”

“You guys can stay in my room. I’m sure Annie won’t mind a bedmate for the night.”

“I can’t take your room from you.”

“You can. I insist. Lu isn’t going to sleep on one of the couches!”

“But it’s your room.”

“Okay, I do have that pullout in my room. I can sleep on there, and the three of you can have my bed.”

“I’m not taking your bed from you!”

“Well Lu surely isn’t sleeping on that pullout! Not the night before Santa’s coming!”

“Lu can stay with you then. Jim and I will take the couch.”

“But, you’re going to wake up sore.”

“So would you if you slept on it.”

“But you’re my guests.”

“We’re hardly guests at this point.”

“You don’t live here.”

“We might as well.”

“Just take my offer.”

“You’re sleeping in your own bed Seymour. Lu can stay with you, and Jim and I can take the pullout. That’s final,” the brunette turned on her mom voice.

“Damn Hunterson. No need to pull out the mom voice on me!”

“There is a need!”

“Okay, okay!” Jane laughed putting her hands up in mock surrender. “I suppose you win this round. Let’s get her to bed before the Santas arrive.”

The men arrived a while later, promising the two women who had stayed up that they could take care of setting out all the presents.

“Dawn and Becky are downstairs. There’s more than enough room for all of you to stay down there comfortably,” Jane informed them.

“Jane’s been kind enough to share her room with us for the night,” Jenna told her husband. “Lu’s gonna stay with her and we’re gonna stay on the pull-out. Hope that’s alright.”

Jim nodded before instructing the other men on where to put Lulu’s presents.

Although the two women had been told they were more than welcome to go to bed once Jim, Ogie, and Cal arrived back, they stayed and watched them diligently. Satisfied with the display that had the queens’ presents to each other (because of course they all got each other presents on top of their secret santa exchange) as well as the additional presents from the diner gang, everyone set out to bed.

Christmas Day had arrived, and at exactly 5:03 am, Jane Seymour was woken by a small child poking her cheek incessantly.

“Aunt Janey!” she whispered. “It’s Christmas. Do you think Santa came? Do you think Santa knowed I stayed here instead of at my own house?”

“Lu, it’s 5 in the morning. I don’t know if Santa came yet. Why don’t we give him a couple more hours to make sure he knows you’re here and not home?”

“This is like my home!” the little one whisper-shouted, melting the blonde’s heart.

“That’s so sweet of you to say hun. Why don’t we go back to sleep for a little bit though? It’s very early, and you know how your girls like their sleep.”

“Hmm,” Lulu thought this over for a second. “I guess you’re right. Good night Aunt Janey. Merry Christmas, and love you.”

“I love you too little Lu,” the blonde sighed as her surrogate niece snuggled into her side for a few more hours.

Opening presents was about as chaotic as anyone could guess in the house with thirteen people in it. After presents were done, Cal set out to make breakfast for everyone, muttering that if he couldn’t do that, what kind of cook would he be? It didn’t go unnoticed by the writer that he used his new spatula and apron as opposed to one of the spatulas in the queens’ house, the first and only time he ever used the kitchen tool.

“Hey Jenna?” Jane called from her place on the couch. The baker looked over at her friend inquisitively. “I have one more present for you.”

“What? You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“Well, maybe it’s not for you, per se. It’s for the little one inside of you.” The third queen stood and walked towards the Christmas tree before almost magically producing one last present from under it.

Jenna opened the present with care and glanced at it before bursting into tears.

A simple onesie that said “ Heart of Gold, Green, Silver, Red, Pink, and Blue” .

“We thought it might be nice to give you for the new baby. We already love him or her so much.”

(When Olivia Pomatter arrived in the world, it was the first onesie the Hunterson-Pomatter duo put their new daughter in. Jane cried.)

#six the musical #six musical #waitress the musical #waitress musical #jane seymour #jenna hunterson #six fanfiction #six the musical fanfic #six the musical fanfiction #six fanfic #waitress the musical fanfiction #waitress the musical fanfic

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singeramg · 4 years

Text

Midnight: Chapter 20

Pairing: Clark Kent-Superman/ Metahuman! Black! OFC

Rating: M

A/N: Okay so I finished this one up as well and honestly I wanted to get it up so I can set my own record for the most chapters I could get posted in one day. I am excited!

Warning: Smut! I would say Dom Clark, but its more of a frustrated Clark seeing as Gia never listens to him. Rough mostly...

CATCH UP HERE!

Midnight: Chapter 20

“Freeland? My mom was from Freeland, she left one night and never looked back.”

I looked at the room who were all looking at me in expectation of an answer I couldn’t give them. I look at the screen as a photo of an unfamiliar black man comes up on the screen, an old grainy quality photo shows him smiling at a desk somewhere. His smile is kind, but I truly had no clue of who this man was.

“What’s in Freeland?” Barry asks as innocent as always.

“There is not much but some of the files that got transferred have mention of an article done by Alvin Pierce. Considering there weren’t computers back then and his article was never actually published I can’t tell you exactly how this is all connected to the experiments but I have a feeling you find out what his research was about then we will have a solid start to put whoever is after you behind bars forever.”

I nod in agreement.

“Looks like a trip to Freeland is in order. Got an address for me Vic?”

I ask in a fun tone, looking to get answers for my questions and to my pesky problem of people trying to kidnap me, Clark stands up from where he was leaning on the wall previously, the black rimmed glasses he didn’t need tucked into his shirt pocket. I can feel his flash of worry hit me as the idea processes through his mind.

“Woah, woah, woah. Gia. Hold on, I don’t think you going to Georgia is the best idea.”

I look at him with an eyebrow raised.

“ It’s a sneak and peek visit Clark. Go down there, do a little digging and come back.”

“ Gia you just got back.”

“It’s one night Clark.”

I can tell by the look on his face this conversation was not over by a long shot.

*-“We will talk about this later” he says while looking at me pointedly.*

*-Fine. Wait you can’t even hear me but if you could I’d tell you to calm the hell down.”*

*-Gia you must have forgotten you can project your thoughts. I CAN HEAR YOU.”*

“Shit. I mean...damn... I mean get out of my head!”

He laughs inside of mind

My eyes widen and Clark raises one eyebrow this time as if daring me to say something. I choose to look away, finally taking note that the room is staring at us...again.

“Umm...Gia maybe Clark is right. You should stay here and rest.”

Diana says softly, placing her hand on my shoulder.

“I can’t rest. Don’t y’all get it? Whoever is after me won’t stop. They won’t rest until they have me back in their claws. I am going to Freeland. Victor can you please get me an address.”

“I’ll go with you. I can protect you in case someone tries to take you again.” Diana offers.

“An beautiful Amazonian woman and a gorgeous Black Methuman together is bound to attract unnecessary attention.”

I say with a smirk.

“How about I go too. An extra set of hands on the ground, Diana can keep the plane going in case we need a quick take off and not far in case we need an extra set of hands.”

Barry offers and I mildly wonder where he got the bag of sour cream and onion chips from but say nothing about them. I, along with everyone else, turned to Clark who was somewhat the unofficial head of the team, Bruce had said nothing, only keenly observing like he always did. I knew he would only step up if he had to butt in.

“And you know I’m always on surveillance. So really it’s like almost the whole team except you, Bruce and Arthur.”

*-“Still not done talking about this Gia.”*

He says to me in his mind, and waves of unhappiness comes from him but out loud he says.

“Fine. Just an in and out trip. Do not engage with anybody or anything. Find the information we need to end this and come home.”

I smile slightly and we go about planning the quick trip...

*Upstairs*

Kalen was down for a nap, Ms. A and Martha we’re enjoying being kid free for a few hours by watching TV and doing some online shopping, the rest of the team had gone off to do their own things until those who were going had to suit up. Clark and I went into another one of Bruce’s rooms that wasn’t currently occupied by someone and seeing as Tracy had gone back to mine to watch TV and contemplate if she was doing the right thing by being here, we needed to talk in a different room.

Clark was still not happy about me going on this trip, his thick arms crossed over his chest as I threw up a noise canceling shield for the room. As I did he started up with me.

“Gia I still don’t think you should go.”

“Clark, I can't let this go. These people after us they won’t stop. I can’t live my life afraid and looking around every corner. I subject Kalen to constant moving and identify changes and denying him the chance to be a child.”

“Anyone else can handle this mission. You were just kidnapped! You haven’t even been back a full 24 hours and you already are trying to run off again. I think Kalen would want you here with him not off chasing a big bad that we haven’t even identified yet!”

Clark has a vein popping out the side of his forehead out of anger and because I was already still on edge I was pissed too.

“And what do you think this shit is just going to stop?! It won’t until me and Tracy are locked back in that jail cell of a room. Until every part of the Gia you all know is gone. Can you say you will put me down if I’m so far gone that all I know is this synergy persona they created? They almost succeeded in tearing me away from my son!”

“I can protect you both. There is no need to put you down because nobody will have the chance to get to you if you just listen!”

Clark was pissed, I was pissed and I truly didn’t feel like punching Superman dead in his shit right now. He wasn’t getting it at all, literally all he wanted to see was me being helpless, but he didn’t realize I couldn’t let that define me at all. I had to do this. I had to fight for me.

“I am listening to Clark! I am hearing you loud and clear. I can feel you too! You have zero confidence in me. You think someone is going to snatch me again...”

“Gia let’s shoot straight here. Did you or did you not go to work after we repeatedly told you it was a bad idea?”

“Yes but...”

“I am not finished talking.”

I stood glaring at him and crossing my arms.

“Gia did you or did you not lead them home after we fought Steppenwolf because you were too prideful to talk to me?”

“It wasn’t pride...”

“I am not finished yet.”

I wasn’t going to admit that despite me being highly annoyed with Clark right now, he looked good wearing his confidence. For now all I wanted to do was let him finish talking. I could tell this conversation was getting to him too, as his anger became tainted with his own thunderstorm of emotions.

“Go on then. Keep talking. Tell me more about the failure I am.”

I say with an eye roll. Clark being Clark does not like this and starts backing me up, my back hits the sturdy door. I feel my breath hitch in my chest as I become surrounded in Clark’s scent again. The tension went from anger to anger and sexuality.

“You always have to say something smart don’t you?”

“Since when don’t I have something to say? You know me better than that Clark.”

He comes up to me, his arms caging me in on either side of my face.

“Exactly and I know you well enough to know that you are using that smart mouth to divert the attention from talking about your problems.”

“What problem do you think I have Mr. Kent?”

I know he can hear my heart rate pick up because instead of being angry at me he only gives me that smirk, the one that he only gives when his mind is on something other than his high morality.

“You think you have to do all of it by yourself still. So hardheaded and you won’t listen until you are hurt oooorrrr.... otherwise occupied. Between you and me I think we both would prefer the other way I get you to listen.”

I look up at him from under my lashes, and slide my hands up his chest, grasping the dark gray t-shirt he was wearing underneath his favored blue plaid shirt. It was my favorite too but I wasn’t going to tell him that. I gripped the shirt and pulled him down to where our lips could meet.

Every time I kissed Clark it was like a religious experience. I never forgot how his lips felt against mine, in all these years, even under control of someone else, he still feels the same. His tongue presses into my mouth and immediately dominates it unlike the previous kisses, he was making it clear that he was in charge this go ‘round. I was more than okay with it and as his hands slid down to my hips, I tossed mine around my neck. Clark picks me up and I lock my legs around his waist. I moan into his mouth when I feel his length pressing on my core through my jeans. I wasn’t paying attention to how close we were to the bed until he threw me onto it suddenly, both our chests heaving. This was the beauty in my powers because I got the full rebound of both my emotions as well as Clark’s. I could double it back out to him, but honestly his own arousal was enough.

“Are you ready to listen yet?”

He asks me but I decide to cheat a little and listen to his thoughts. None of what he wanted to do was concrete, quick images fly on the surface of his mind, clearly this was intentional. He was playing with my lack of training with my new powers. One thing is clear however he was ready to teach me a lesson and I was more than willing to let him. Foreplay wasn’t even needed because I could feel my panties were already ruined and my jeans were going to follow if I didn’t get them off. I snap my fingers, sending my clothes somewhere that I didn’t care about in the moment. Clark basically all but rips his clothes down the middle to get them off. Next thing I know he is back on top of me, and his fingers find my center.

“Already dripping for me...” he says with a low growl in his voice.

“Yes for you Kent. Who else would it be for?”

I can’t turn off the snark and I know it’s egging on his need to ruin me. I wanted to see how far he would go. He goes back to hovering over me, my breasts heaving against his chest.

“Do you ever shut up Gia?”

“Well it’s a skill I have yet to ma-STER!”

Clark had surprised me by pushing into me, without a warning. I hiss and latch to his back our positioning similar to the first time we had done this. I need time to adjust to the sudden intrusion, and his size, but he knew that which was why he wasn’t moving. The only reason he hadn’t gone in slowly was to shut me up. Can’t say I was all together upset at his action, but as the discomfort faded roll my hips and try to get him to move.

“Oh no, you are not the one in control here.”

“Oohhh really?”

“Yes really. I told you yesterday I like to keep my control and you are clearly out of it. It’s my turn...”

*A Hour Later...*

“FUCK! Harder Clark Harder! Shit!”

We were long past taking our time, or playing it safe. This was not even like our first time, this was actually the opposite. Currently, I was face down, spine curved as I took back shots from Clark, who was making it his mission to make me pay for every snarky or smart comment I had said to him since we met. Apparently the only payment he was accepting was my orgasms.

His right hand was holding me by the hip, the other sliding up my spine and then into my hair. He leans down, breathing against my ear.

“Are you ready to listen to me yet?”

My hand grasps on top of the one that was on my hip, and I clench down purposefully on him. He groans and his thrusts falter slightly, and his grip gets tighter in my hair and hip. It was even more of a turn on to see how well he kept control of his strength.

“Yes! Shit yes!”

He slows down, his strokes getting deeper, but slower until it’s less thrusting and more of a rolling grind. For someone who had always seemed like his sense of morality made Everything vanilla with him, he surely knew how to wring the pleasure out of me. With Clark pressing his weight onto me, my knees falter and I drop to the mattress. He didn’t stop thrusting and I bit my lips, the tang of blood slightly on my lips.

“We could have been doing this. I could have been making you feel like this. You were too hard headed. Now you say you were ready to listen to me, but how do I know you will?”

My walls were fluttering around his cock as I was about to cum again for the umpteenth time in a manner of an hour.

“Clark I promise I’ll listen!” I say with my stomach tightening and a whimper blended in. I was not a whiny type of girl but damn be if I wasn’t right now.

“The next time I ask you not to do something, you will listen to me right?”

“Yes!”

Unexpectedly, he gets back onto his knees, and pulls me up so his chest is against my back, thrusting upwards, and uses my hair to turn my head to the side. He kisses me roughly, his fingers rubbing my clit as the head of his cock rubs at my g spot at this angle, and with one of his hands goes around my throat, It takes no time at all to bounce right into the hardest orgasm of the night, which Clark and his super stamina finally falters and he falls over the edge right behind me, filling me up deeply, my name falling off his lips and both of us out of breath, which considering who Clark was, was a feat within itself.

The light shimmer of the door tells me the noise cancelling shield was still intact even if my legs weren’t. Clark hadn’t pulled out and it seemed like he didn’t want to. He just pulls me back into his arms after turning me around, and despite us being hot, sticky and sweaty it felt nice. I run my hands over the forearm that was wrapped around me, and he plays with the ends of my hair. We lay in silence for a while before he breaks it.

“Gia I realized while you were gone that I might be Superman but I am not strong.”

“Did you try and stop a burning oil rig from falling again?”

I joke and Clark gives me a smile and laughs but I can tell he is serious.

“No. I just realized I am not as strong as you. Somehow you were able to pick up the pieces of your life and be strong for yourself and Kalen. I couldn’t do that. I failed...”

“Clark hush. You did not fail.”

“But I did. Gia when I thought that you had died in that wreck. When I couldn’t hear your heartbeat anymore, I shut down. I couldn’t imagine living in a world without you in it. That’s why I am paranoid about you going anywhere without me. Even a sneak and peek trip with these people after you could have been taken away from us. I can’t let that happen. Not again.”

I sigh as Clark’s feelings of paranoia, concern and fear meld into his feelings of Love.

“A long time ago Gia I promised you that I would leave you alone, that I would say away until you called but that’s a promise I have to break.”

“Clark at this point if you try to leave I might have to chain you down again.”

We both laugh.

“No but really honestly. I can’t keep lying to you or to myself. I can’t keep hiding my feelings for you from you because quite frankly it’s exhausting. I love you Clark Kent. I loved you all those years ago and I still do.”

He breath catches and for a quick moment I fear he would forget forever on how to work his lungs. All the other emotions rolling around with him fade away and his mind basically goes blank.

“I love you too Gia Smith and I hate that it took me so long to say it but I promise I’ll spend forever trying to prove it.”

“You already have.”

Before he can respond there is a knock on the door.

“So...I...um.. I lost at rock, paper, scissors which is pitiful because I am fast enough to change my answer but not faster than Victor’s computer eye playback. So anyway, yeah, Umm... Diana says we should be getting ready to leave for Freeland soon. If you can ummm...hear me in there then I guess...”

Clark and I laugh again as I cancel the shield. I had to put poor Barry out of his misery.

“Barry yes, we can hear you just fine. Tell Diana and the others we will be down in 20 minutes.”

Barry must have run back downstairs and back up because he says

“Ummm.. Mrs. Kent says take a shower and make it 15 and that you two had been up here long enough.”

With that we both peel into laughter and Barry doesn’t stick around for a response. Clark finally pulls out and while my ladybits tingle in excitement they are more grateful for his removal.

“You heard the lady shower it is.”

Clark says moving to stand while I make use of my limbs again.

“Go ahead it will take you less time, you’ve clearly got use of your legs. I feel like I’ve been MMA fighting with the champ.”

Instead of walking away he leans over and lifts me up into his arms cradle style.

“She never said not to shower together.”

“Yes, but I think she implied I needed to be able to walk.”

He pretends to ponder for a moment, then shrugged.

“Fine. I’ll get you clean so I can get you dirty again later...”

A/n: What did you think? Are we happy, sad, pissed, looking for quarantine cuddle buddy lol Alright folks I am done posting these chapters for the night so thank you for letting me flood your timeline! Once again I have a love-hate relationship with writing smut so let me know how you feel about it.

As always thank you for reading!

Taglist! (Still open for additions.)

@thethirstyarchive @bloodyinspiredfuck @romyr4 @p3nny4urth0ught5 @kmcmpmd @winchwm

#Henry Cavill #henry cavill x black ofc #Clark Kent xOFC #Clark Kent #SUPERMAN X OFC #Superman #henry cavill x ofc

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beautifulterriblequeen · 4 years

Text

Melkor and Glorfindel in TDP

My mind is still running off my Aaravos’s-plan-and-Runaan’s-fate hc that spun from @queensaraiz‘s hc that Aaravos punished Queen Aditi by turning her human. (And come on, that’s a brilliantly horrible plan, I love it tbh) Remember how the Orphan Queen’s picture only shows three fingers, but a round human ear?

I commented on that when it first came out because I always look at elf hands, but everyone thought it was an angle thing. Maybe it is. But maybe it’s not.

Okay, on to what woke me up this morning.

Runaan looks terrified in the purple light of Viren’s staff. I think he knows exactly what’s going to happen to him, because he knows the story of what Aaravos did to Queen Aditi--or whoever the Orphan Queen is. Aaravos stripped out her arcanum, and that is why Aaravos is worse than death. Especially to any elf who is prejudiced against humans. Aaravos can curse an elf to live a mortal life without magic. It’s a long, drawn-out, miserable existence--as far as the elves are concerned. Runaan would far prefer to die swiftly and honorably in battle, and his Moonshadow powers are a huge part of who he is.

He’s going to lose the one part of him that he identifies with most, the one thing that gives him his abilities, which he uses on missions to serve his people. Without his arcanum, Runaan will feel worthless, useless, whether he’s free and whole or not. He won’t be himself ever again, and that is indeed worse than death to him.

When Runaan got put into the coin, we only watched Gren’s reaction to it. Runaan screaming in agony onscreen wasn’t really appropriate for a kids’ show. But what if something else was happening to him that we weren’t supposed to know about yet?

If burning out an elf’s arcanum turns them human, maybe Runaan’s horns burned off too. The Orphan Queen doesn’t have any horns anymore. It would hurt horribly--he’d definitely scream about that. His hands are very conveniently pressed across the top of the coin so we can’t see any hint of them. He still has his pointy ears, and we get one glimpse of his horn cuff. But Runaan had really big ears as an elf, so maybe he just has cute human ears with points now?

And his horns were designed very specifically so that he could hide them by lifting his chin and looking “good” and flaring them up behind his head by dropping his chin when he wanted to look intimidating, like when he says “hard enough to do whatever it takes.” He uses his horns as a deliberate sign of his dark and deadly side. If that part of him burns away, that’s actually better for his character.

But it also gives us the opportunity for a false reveal. Seeing him straight on, we’ll see the rounded metal of his horn cuffs as we always have. Only when he turns or tips his head will we see that they’re empty, just tucked into his hair. Appearances, remember? He wants to feel their weight on his head.

With them still on his head, holding nothing, possibly feeling his ear points starting to resorb, Runaan’s in an existential crisis. He’s getting broken by truth--something Moonshadows never want to look too closely at.

Who is he, if he’s not the Moonshadow elf Runaan? He’s lost so much further out into the dark than he thought possible.

You know who will take one look, bow, and say “Trees to meet you” though. Ethari. Ethari won’t care what Runaan looks like on the outside. No spell can change a person’s heart. Runaan is still Ethari’s beloved husband, and he’s so kind and gentle and instantly accepting--even of humans!--I can’t see any reason he wouldn’t just sweep Runaan into his powerful arms, no matter what bits of him are missing, and cry with happiness that his husband is home.

Now, that said. Why did I title this Melkor and Glorfindel?

Melkor is the big evil dude that Sauron served in the Silmarillion. He took elves and locked them away underground and tortured them for hundreds of years, until they became something dark, shambling, and twisted: orcs.

Aaravos, in my new headcanon, created humans by stripping out the magical connection they were born with, in order to create his own version of life. He deliberately mutilated elves to create something of his own, his own race, his own contribution to the world. Of course he loves humans best. He made them out of elves. And therefore, he absolutely did create dark magic and give it to his darlings, because the Master Plan is to get rid of the elves by sending his pets to burn them. Burn out their arcana or burn them as spell fuel, it doesn’t matter. Aaravos will have a world where nothing remains but his precious humans. And then there will be balance. A balance of his own making, where none of the other Star Touches had succeeded.

Now for Glorfindel. He was a brave hero in the Silmarillion, with long and glorious golden hair, who fell in battle. Through great effort and a boon of magic from the the King of the Valar, Manwë, Glorfindel was restored to full life and health, and continued fighting for what was right, the only elf to ever come back from beyond the grave.

I know I’ve compared Runaan to Glorfindel on his epic hair and my hopes for his restoration before. But this time I have an extra headcanon.

Since Callum is a person who exists and has connected to an arcanum of his own choosing, I think that’s truly why he’s the “special boy”. Not because he’s the only human who can do that. But because he’s the one who can teach humans and former elves alike how to consciously choose an arcanum and connect with it.

I think Callum will help Runaan choose a new arcanum. And because Runaan’s experiences were so horrific, and resulted directly from him doing his Moonshadow duty, I think Runaan will struggle with choosing. I don’t think he’ll just pick up Moon again. I hope he talks it over with Ethari so they both understand what could happen. But I hope Runaan goes into that wild new learning process with an open heart and a willingness to change.

I think at that point he might pick Sun and become a Sunfire elf. How hilarious to turn the tables on that old Sunfire-tinker headcanon! We’d get our eclipse anyway, but in reverse. And the whole point of choosing Sun is so Runaan can get a light-being. So that after all the taking and destruction he has caused, he can now dedicate his life to healing and restoring. To comfort instead of distress. We all saw how soft he was with Ethari. Imagine if he gets to be that soft with everyone, because he can actually embrace his own feels now! He’s always been too soft to be a Moonshadow.

He could pick another arcanum that gives him healing abilities, if they’re out there: Earth and Ocean come to mind. But I like Sun the best because when Runaan’s new horns grow in, and his hair changes color, he can literally have Glorfindel’s glorious long golden locks.

Maybe he’ll find his way to becoming the Sun King by the end of the war. His craftsman husband would have literally a million ideas for what to do with the Sunforge, and what all he can make with that much magical power. I can think of no better person to entrust it to--someone who has studied hard to make up for a weaker magic ability, who relies on learning new things (not a very Moonshadow trait at all) in order to remain of service.

If Runaan remained the Sun, and Ethari remained the Moon, that would be a lovely pairing. Runaan would literally rise from Shadow to Sun, and that’s one hell of a redemption arc.

Although... would Ethari remain a Moonshadow? Or would he sacrifice to join his husband in his new arcanum? From Moon and Shadow to Sun and Fire? Runaan being the Sun and Ethari being the Fire? All the better to work the Sunforge, my dear.

#runaan #runaan headcanon #aaravos #aaravos headcanon #ethari #ethari headcanon #tdp speculation #tdp theory #glorfindel #melkor #worse than death #humans and elves #tdpspoilers

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minsyal · 5 years

Text

Stan83, [Sam x Reader]

Word Count: 6k

Summary: The life of a hunters assistant wasn’t easy, especially when two of them come knocking on your door posing as Agents investigating the recent deaths in the area.

Warnings: General SPN stuff, nothing crazy

This was the third time you had woken in the middle of the night. This was the third time you had jolted upward in bed only to find an empty room and unsettling feeling falling to the pit of your stomach. This was the third time you had searched your home in the dark of night with an old metal baseball bat that you kept beneath your bed. This was the third time you had found countless open windows with no recollection of leaving them so. This was the third time you had come to the conclusion that nobody was here. It was just you.

It was later than usual, or perhaps simply earlier in the morning. The clock on your bedside table blinked on and off in big red numbers “4:45 AM.” Your job wasn’t exactly a nine to five with a set lunch break and mandatory stopping points throughout the day. You were an on-call, entirely electronic, assistant to the vast grapevine of hunters that so chose to reach out. Who they were didn’t matter to you. For all you knew, you were telling vampires how to kill one another and witches where to find the ingredients they needed for an unsuspecting ghoul.

The tradition passed through generations of your family, from grandfather to father and now to you. Your father had decided he wanted more thrill in his life; he didn’t want to be tied down to his computer desk for the rest of eternity. That decision led to hunting, and within months he had passed. Your mother, on the other hand, was a runaway. She abandoned the family as soon as she learned of your father’s secret life.

Ice crept from the old, cracked tiles of your kitchen. Fall’s spiny fingers had wretched themselves from the ground and were now climbing your legs, sending chills up your spine. The tiles weren’t helping much. They hadn’t seen white in years and were now permanently stained what you preferred to call cream. Going bad to bed, while the best outcome of the night, was no use as your phone and computer lit up with five new notifications all from “Stan83.”

Hey, crazy story. Need your help.

Hunting – little to no details – marks on victims

You there?

It can wait if you’re busy.

Sorry if this wakes you up.

Stan83 had quickly become one of your favorite hunters to converse with. He, you assumed, was in his late twenties to early thirties based on the “83” in his name. He had told you little to no information about himself other than the fact that he hunted with his brother and moved all over the country. Your conversations were more casual: what did you have for lunch, what are you hunting today, what type of music do you like, what’s up. The simple things. A few conversations spiraled. It was rare for them to happen. Only when big things happened and Stan83 had no one else to talk to would he pick up the phone and send a text.

Picking your mug up from the counter, you flicked the kitchen light off and started for your room where you’d likely spend the rest of the day. Your desk was a mess. Books littered the surface opened to all sorts of weird information that anyone would have you locked in an institution for. Scribbled notes were pinned up on your wall that detailed the whereabouts of those you spoke with. If they didn’t contact you for about a month, you’d contact them.

You didn’t wake me up. You responded, waiting for only a moment before a small text bubble popped up indicating that the person on the other side was typing.

You sure? It’s 5:00am. Stan83 answered. It was easy to imagine the tone he used, a little sarcastic, a little smug.

That wasn’t you. It was the nightmares. It’s 5 for you too? Finally taking a spin in the BEST time zone, huh?

The best time zone that spans about 600 miles?

Ok, sass me then. What’s up?

Weird hunt. Women in this town are dying at a pretty fast rate. Their children are acting strange. Weird marks on their necks are making fathers think they’re cheating.

I’ll take a look through what I have and get back to you.

Thank you Sav!

Sav, your own nick. It was the easiest to think of on the spot when your old system had gone kaput and you needed to as quickly as possible set up a new database and communication network. It’s short for saver, or savior, or whatever the hell these hunters wanted to believe. Maybe it meant savvy but given the state of your home and wardrobe you wouldn’t put money on that.

The rest of the morning consisted of research. Each lore book and journal your father left behind was thoroughly scanned through with big yellow sticky notes marking the pages that held possible leads. With your luck, you’d be able to message Stan83 back by noon with possibilities. That is, you would have been able to message Stan83 back if your doorbell hadn’t rung 13 times in a row at an alarming rate.

You passed by the entry hall warily. Nobody in this town really knew you, and you didn’t care to know them either. The only people who dared step foot on your property were usually city officials complaining of the broken window on your small garage or political campaigners who were being paid to pester and harp on people for votes.

The figures beyond were large, looming even. Two dark shadows were cast over your frosted-glass door and you watched as the shorter of the two raised his hand once more to ring the bell another five times. “I’m coming!” You finally yelled back, turning quickly to the mirror in your hall that held no particular purpose, but it was supposedly your mothers. You looked awful. If the garage hadn’t scared off whoever stood beyond your home’s threshold, your physical appearance definitely would.

Loose hairs fell from the messy, slept-in ponytail that hung lazily and lopsided at the back of your head. Your skin was flushed from the lack of breakfast, and now lunch as you had lost track of time attempting to help one of your favorite hunters. The shirt you wore was luckily clean, but the sweatpants had small holes from where they had caught on the kitchen counter and torn.

“What can I do for you?” You asked without bothering to look at the two men standing on your front porch. Nobody knew of your “hunting” life, so there was a slim to no possibility of any real threat coming to your door. Unless, of course, these were tax collectors coming to repossess something for another unpaid credit card.

The shorter of the two men spoke “Agent Stark,” he quickly flashed an ID, “Banner,” he motioned to the taller man beside him, “we’re here to investigate the deaths of a few of your neighbors. Do you mind if we come in?”

You took a moment, Stark and Banner, really? “Let me get a look at that ID.” You nodded your head in the direction of his coat pocket where he had neatly tucked the leather protected card. Agent Banner acted faster. “Here.”

Banner, or whoever this was, was far taller than the man who self-identified himself as Tony Stark. He had the classic triangle shape to his body, broad shoulders, slim waist. His hair was formally tucked back from his face, but strands kept falling from his ears as he shifted from foot to foot waiting for your determination. Mr. Stark was shorter, but still a giant none-the-less. He had a finely set jaw, green eyes, and a short business-cut style to his hair.

“Mr. Banner.” You pressed your lips together. The ID was awful. The leather was fake, scratched and worn from what you guessed to be a few uses. “Where’d you get this ID?” Twisting it in your hand, you offered it back to him.

“The Federal Bureau of Investigation, ma’m.” He replied smoothly, not showing how his heart rate picked up at your questioning of their identities.

“In some back alley?” You shrugged. “At least choose realistic names next time.”

“Look.” Agent Stark stiffened as he crossed his arms over his chest. Agent Banner immediately went wide-eyed and motioned for him to stop whatever he was about to do. “We’re here to investigate your neighbor’s deaths. Do you want to do this the easy way or the hard way?”

Waiting a moment, you held your grip on the door, willing it to close any second. “You got guns on you?” An eyebrow raise from Agent Stark confirmed your suspicions.

“Leave them in your little muscle car over there.” You peered between them at the black Impala parked on the road. It was pristine, well taken care of, clearly waxed recently. “Then come back and we can talk.”

Hunters, while difficult to talk to online, are insufferable in person. These big meat heads always want to get their way. They never relent and admit they’re wrong or they’ve been caught. So, when the two nodded and began off your doorstep toward the car, you were taken aback.

Both unloaded two guns from their waistbands. “Other weapons too!” You yelled from the step. Agent Stark grumbled something inaudible as Agent Banner seemed to soothe him.

Why are all you hunters so horrible? You typed into your phone, smiling as you pressed send and immediately saw Stan83 typing back.

What happened this time?

Real hunters interrupting my work! I think I got you guys some leads though. Will tell you later. Gotta deal with these bozos.

Bozos? Really?

Guess I inherited my father’s vocabulary too.

“Alright, Iron Man and the Incredible Hulk.” You were perched upon the arm of one of your recliners, arms crossed over your chest as you eyed the two men looking out of place in your small living room. “You’re hunters, I know. Real names?”

“I’m Sam.” The taller of the two said, being stopped with an arm over his chest from the shorter one. “What?” He shook his head. “She obviously knows…”

“Too much.” The shorter one said. “Who are you?”

“Nobody important.”

“Important enough to know what hunting is.”

“[Y/N.]” You replied, shifting in your seat. “Ok, your turn.”

“Dean.”

“Last names?”

“Confidential.”

“Mhm.” You hummed, really uncaring of their last names but trying to pry anyway. Sam tilted his head, looking around the house. “What do you think you’re hunting?”

“Aren’t sure yet.” Sam piped up, snapping his attention back to you. “Have you been keeping up with the news here lately?”

“I rarely leave this place. I don’t even know my neighbors.”

“We can tell.” Dean chimed in earning himself a heavy elbow to the gut. Sam shot him a dirty look before turning back to you. “A couple of women have died. Their husbands think they’re cheating on them, but after they pass their children disappear too.”

“Sounds like a changeling.”

“Told you.” Dean commented, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back on the couch.

“Grab some matches and go crazy.” You pushed yourself up from your chair. “Wait here a second.” Escaping to the back hall, you returned to your desk and began to gather a few things about changelings that you had read this morning.

I think we figured it out. A message stopped you from returning to Sam and Dean. It was Stan83.

No, wait I figured it out first.

Why didn’t you tell me, then?

Because I like keeping secrets from you.

“Hurry up back there, will you?” Dean’s voice called from the living room.

“Hold your horses.”

“My what?” You heard Dean whisper to Sam who either didn’t respond or responded quietly. “Dude would you get off your phone?”

“Here. A couple pages in this should help. I’d loan them to you, but I’m not sure I’d get them back.” The books landed on the coffee table in front of the two. Dean began palming through the contents while Sam sat glued to his phone, typing something quickly.

“Did you not listen to me a second ago?” Dean bickered. “Phone, off. Hunt, now.”

Sam pressed something speedily, closing his phone before pocketing it out of sight. Your phone in your own pocket buzzed, causing you and Sam to stop. Dean hadn’t noticed, he was enthralled in the journal you had presented to him. “Where’d you get this?” He asked, not looking away from the page.

“Grandfather had it.” You began to pull your phone out of your pocket. “He passed it down from one of his hunting buddies to my father and now to me.”

Secrets are supposed to be for crushes and broken plates, not things that are killing people.

Oops! You typed back slowly, eyeing Sam who was doing the same. When you hit send a notification rang from his pocket causing Dean to groan.

“Stan83?” The words scrambled from your lips before your tongue had time to catch them. Dean snorted as he shook his head and flipped the journal’s page.

“Sav?” Sam replied as Dean gave yet another snort, this time accompanied by a head shake. “Are we still bozos?”

“You called us bozos?” Dean chuckled.

~~*~~

Sam is Stan83. You’re Sav. That much you can say for sure. After the initial shock of it all, you quickly mellowed out and fled to the back room to gather the materials you were saving to message Stan83 with. Turns out, you had just saved yourself an hour of typing.

Stan83 was far different from Sam. Stan83 presented himself as a somewhat sarcastic, confident, flirtatious man while Sam sat much smaller despite his frame. He was clumsy and nervous, stumbling over a few of his words before catching himself as he went full speed down a hill. When he had attempted to describe what he looked like, he was being modest. He said he was tall, had an average build, brown hair, and liked to run. You had assumed he was skinnier and less muscle.

Sam blushed at each comment you made concerning your conversations online; you could never imagine Stan83 to be a blusher. He was so different, yet so similar. In a way, it was endearing.

“So, it’s targeting women on this block?” You frowned; your hand outstretched to Dean as he accepted the coffee you had just made. “Good thing I’ve got no kids.” You joked.

“That’s the thing, though.” Sam had long since discarded his blazer and was now sitting in the armchair you had initially been sitting on. “It’s targeting all women. We think there may be more than one.”

“Well, yeah. Changelings have kids.”

“No, he means more than one adult changeling.” Dean added.

“They don’t typically work together like that, though.”

“Which is why we think it’s weird.”

“So, what’s the plan?”

The two brothers waited a moment before seemingly conversing without a single audible word. Dean raised his eyebrows, eyes moving back and forth between you and Sam. Sam immediately went on the defense. “Dean, no.”

“Come on! You don’t even know what I’m thinking.” Dean pouted. He brought his now-chilled coffee up to his lips, a frown laced upon his lips as the cold bitter liquid spilled over his tongue. “Gah.” He crinkled his face up and bit his lip. “It’s a good plan.”

“What is he talking about?”

“[Y/N],” Dean began, “me and Sam, big dudes. We aren’t exactly this things cup-of-tea. It’s going after women… and you happen to be a woman…”

“You guys want to use me as bait?”

“Correction. He wants to use you as bait.” Sam added.

“I’m not really a hunter though.” You shifted in your seat. “I can’t even shoot a gun.”

“Just think about it.” Dean said. He leant over and grabbed his blazer. Throwing it over his shoulder, he motioned for Sam to do the same. “We’re staying at the motel on highway 62. If you’re up for it, feel free to uh…” he pulled a slip of paper from his pocket – a fake business card, “call us.”

“I have Sam’s number, you know?”

“Right.” Dean withdrew the card and returned it to its rightful home, tucked away in his pocket.

~~*~~

The next day came and went with no contact to either Sam or Dean. You had relented and finally turned on the local news channel. Four women in your neighborhood had passed away with their children all going missing afterward. The fathers were sending out heartfelt pleas for their children’s safe returns. One woman was considered missing and immediately seen as a suspect in the eyes of the law.

You, along with two other women, were the only ones left on the block. One was a daughter living with her single father as she finished up her college degree. The other, a widowed elderly woman living alone with her two dogs.

~~*~~

“She’s not a hunter, Dean. We can’t just expect her to drop everything she knows and jump straight into action.” Sam groaned, throwing his blazer down on the old worn couch. The motel room was as they left it. The desk’s chair was pushed out slightly, an open laptop sitting upon the cracked oak wood. Each bed was still neatly made, the two brothers hadn’t had the chance to sleep yet as they only arrived in the morning.

“All she has to do is wait around at her home while we keep an eye on the other two. Something bad happens and we run 50 feet.”

“What if 50 feet is too much? She could get hurt.”

Dean pulled his shirt over his head, adjusting the neck before accessorizing with a blue button-up. He ran his fingers through his hair, wiping the excess gel on his jeans. Sam sat on the edge of one of the beds, already changed and working away on his computer.

“Fine. Then we have to figure out something else.”

~~*~~

Changelings are awful creatures. Not just awful looking, but awful in general. They act so quietly that it’s hard to detect them before they get their first few kills. Your eyes scanned the screen before you, days since you’d spoken to the brothers. It had been two days of waiting, watching, and hoping they’d finish this hunt.

4:45AM. The clock blinked. On and off, on and off, the red numbers illuminated the room. Your routine stood, wake, check the home, and return to assisting hunters. The window was open. It had been rather nice outside lately. Fall was setting in after a grueling humid summer and you were excited to have a good excuse to stay indoors.

Sorry about the other day. The message popped up around 6, and it took you til 7 to answer.

It’s okay. Typical hunter jazz. No big deal. You responded.

Do you mind if I stop by?

With your brother? This early in the morning?

Just me. Dean’s still sleeping.

You pondered for a moment. Sure, you had been talking to Sam for years at this point, but the Sam you had come to know was so vastly different from the Sam that knocked on your door impersonating the Incredible Hulk. It had been years since you actively attempted to converse with others in person. Your social life had mostly been contained to the world of technology.

Sure, give me 30. You regretted it the moment you hit send. What were you supposed to talk to him about? “No, I don’t want to be bait, but I also don’t want to come across as an asshole who doesn’t care?”

~~*~~

Sam sat, looking comically large, in the small armchair he had taken to the last time he visited. A fresh cup of coffee was warming the palms of his hands, fighting off the cold that spilled in from the windows. You sat on the couch, across from him, mirroring his position.

“So,” you started, breaking the strained silence that fell between you, “have you guys found anything on the changelings?”

“Nothing more than what you told us, and we already knew.” Sam sipped the coffee. “Hey, I uh, do you remember what we talked about a few years ago? That promise?”

Promises were touchy subjects in hunting. Often, they were meaningless. “You mean when I promised I’d quit drinking?”

He laughed, “Close, but no.”

“When I promised I’d never get into hunting?” He nodded. “Don’t worry, Sam. Not planning on…” You closed your eyes and began to speak, but upon opening them found him with a rather pensive look. He almost looked guilty. “You want me to bait the damn thing out, huh?”

“We’re out of leads. Dean and I have been watching the block for the past few days and we have nothing.”

“You’re asking me to break my promise?”

“Just for a night.”

“What happens when I die?”

“You’ll go to heaven.” He said as if there was no question to it. “But that’s not going to happen anytime soon. When it’s over, you’re going to be okay.”

“You promise?”

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “I promise.” He brought the mug to his mouth, “and I won’t break mine like you break yours.”

“Hey!”

~~*~~

That’s how you ended up with all your doors unlocked, most of your windows parked, and a Black Impala parked a few doors down in front of an empty lot. You paced in the living room, nervous for whatever this night would hold. Sam promised you’d be okay, and you’d be damned if you didn’t hold him to that. Sam said if anything went haywire, he’d be on your doorstep in no time flat. Dean was happy to hear you had “come around” and briefed you on what you needed to do which was mostly “stay put, act normal.”

It was 12:00am when you finally moved to ready yourself for bed. Flicking off the lights, your eyes flitted from the curtains blowing slightly in the night to the computer screen that had long since gone dark. Sam and Dean were just outside, there was nothing to be nervous about. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

Settling into bed, you felt the exhaustion of the day rush through your body. Everything felt heavy. Your eyelids attempted to will themselves closed, but you pushed yourself to remain awake. Just as darkness seeped into the corners of your vision, an incessant knocking pulled you back to reality.

“[Y/N]!” It was Sam. He continued knocking incessantly, with each collision of his knuckles to the door the knock got harder. A cold wave rushed over your body as you ran to the door, a sense of dread caused your arms and legs to go limp. Had something gone wrong already? “Come on!” He called. “Change of plan. We need to get out of here.”

The door opened loudly, the handle knocking against the wall shook the thin walls of the home. Sam’s eyes were wild, he looked scared. “Sam? What the hell is going on? Did you guys catch it?”

“It got away, come on. We have to get you somewhere safe.”

You followed him through the house to the back door but stopped dead in your tracks as you passed the hall. The mirror, the one you dreaded keeping around, caught your eye. Sam gripped tightly to your hand, tugging you forward. “Come on, [Y/N]. We need to go.” He insisted, pulling you harder now.

It was like nothing you could put to words. His eyes were hollowed, where hazel once looked back at you were now pools of black. His mouth had become round with hundreds, if not thousands, of tiny pointed teeth layering downward. Its skin was tanned and discolored. It looked dry but was slimy to the touch. The face that looked back at you was not Sam’s.

Tearing your hand from its, you cringed at the tiny lacerations left from its grip. “Sam” turned to you; his face was still human. He looked confused, slowly approaching you as you moved backward.

“Sam?” You yelled, hoping the real Sam was just outside.

“[Y/N]? Are you crazy? It’s me.” The changeling said, holding its hands up in a non-threatening way.

“Like hell! Sam!” You screamed now, continually taking steps backward. “Dean?”

“Hey!” The front door, which had been closed by the changeling, burst open with more force than before. It was Dean, but like Sam something was off. He wasn’t wearing the same red button-up that he had briefed you in. His hair looked longer, his posture was different, and his eyes were hollow.

There was no time to react as the world fell dark.

~~*~~

The crack of a door closing is what finally shook you awake. The room around you was your own, an unexpected sight. What happened last night was beyond you and whether this was real or not was as well.

“[Y/N]?” Footsteps echoed down the hallway, falling closer and closer with each step. “You awake?” It was Sam’s voice. He sounded more sound, solid even. There was a slight hesitation lacing his tone, something delicate, as if he was walking around broken glass. “Hey.” He let out a breathy huff of air, hazel eyes meeting yours.

Retracting in your bed, you moved against the wall to put as much space between the two of you as possible. Your hand quickly found the base of your neck where a rim of scabbed-over skin protruded in a circular shape. Your chest constricted; your heart felt as if it was crumpling up attempting to make itself as small as possible. Sam watched as your eyes widened and he felt a pang in his chest as you retreated away from him.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he kept his body low, attempting to make himself as small as he could, “it’s me.” He mentally scolded himself for not taking precautions. “Hold on.” His held-out hand did nothing to ease your nerves. Sam returned a moment later with the mirror from the hall. It was cracked now, two large fractures split it down the middle. He positioned it against the wall opposite you and sat in front of it.

You expected the face from the night before. You expected those haunted hollow eyes, the dry scaly skin, the rounded-out mouth of razor-sharp teeth. Instead, you only saw Sam. His gaze was soft, brows drawn together. His lips parted slightly as he debated whether he should say something or not. He decided against it; you needed to be the first to act.

“It’s you.” You said, more to yourself as opposed to him. “What happened last night?”

His eyes flitted from your returning gaze in the mirror to the mark that now scarred your neck. “There were two. One was dragging you back in the woods while the other was fighting Dean. It’s dead. Dean knocked it out, took it out back, and burnt it.” Hesitantly, he moved from his position on the floor to a kneeling one in front of your bed.

“What about the other one?”

A crooked smile moved across his features. “You may need a new living room floor.”

“Is it bad?”

“If you’ve ever wanted new hard-woods, now’s the time.” He chuckled. “We’re going to stay in town another day, just to make sure everything is gone.”

~~*~~

You didn’t wake that night. The rising sun woke you along with the ding of a phone notification. It was one of your other hunters, requesting assistance on a hunt in Nevada. You stretched, feeling a dull ache in your muscles and a pop where one shouldn’t be. Slipping your phone from your nightstand, you promptly sent out a message to the other hunters in that area and discarded the technology in favor of the idea of finally sleeping in.

It was 11:00AM when you woke again. The bed was warm, a strong arm was slung over your side resting snugly against your stomach. Sounds of steady breathing filled the room; a heavy heartbeat played a calming melody in your ears.

It had been a long time since you shared a bed with anyone, but after the antics of the night before it was well-deserved. Sam didn’t offer, rather you did. You didn’t want to be alone.

“Morning.” His sleep-filled voice was smoother than his typical one. Groggily, Sam tugged you backward into his chest as he buried his face in your neck.

“Morning.” You replied, relishing in the moment you wished could last forever.

The day passed with ease. Dean had taken to the couch, insisting that the hole in the floor didn’t bother him and that he’d go out and purchase some planks to at least patch it up. Sam spent the day at your side. Most of it was spent lazily dozing, the rest was doing mundane tasks that seemed so little in comparison to what you experienced the day prior.

Sam had insisted that the effect would wear off soon. It was just some shock and trauma, he told you. It would all get better as time passed.

When the night returned along with Dean who had gone out to pick up dinner, you expected them to tell you they were heading out. But they didn’t. They chatted about nothing and everything at the same time, acting as if you had been part of the team for years. You had a lot in common with Dean, and just as much if not more with Sam. He was an intellectual, smart, kind, caring, and the softer-around-the-edges of the two.

“Hey,” Sam popped his head into your room as you readied yourself for bed, “Dean will be out on the couch. I’m going to set up on the floor out there. We’ll be here if you need anything.”

You felt something. Something sad. Your heart ached at his proclamation of staying down the hall from you. Nodding, you decided it was best. There was no reason to get attached to the boys, it’s not like they’d be coming back any time soon. You and Sam would eventually fall back into your routine of texting at all hours of the day and night and you’d become a distant memory of one of the hundreds of hunts they went on.

“Good night.”

With darkness came distortion. The pile of unlaundered clothing cast shadows across your room where shadows weren’t supposed to be. Despite the curtains being pulled taught over your window, red glowing eyes permeated the fabric and watched you for hours. It wasn’t real, you continually told yourself. It was just your mind playing tricks on you. But the tricks were cruel and holding you back from sleep.

You weren’t sure when you did finally slip into unconsciousness, but you were sure it didn’t last long. Strong hands shook you awake along with the soft coos of someone telling you it’s okay and that it’s all over now. You felt something, someone, in your bed. You laid in someone’s lap as they held your body close, rocking slowly back and forth.

“It’s just a dream.” It was Sam.

“Sam?” You felt meek, your voice mimicking that sentiment. “What happened?”

“You were screaming in your sleep.”

Feeling your face flush red, you wanted nothing more than to bury it along with the changeling in the forest beyond your yard. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” Sam felt his heart drop at the sound you made before the tears fell. “You’re okay. You’ve been through a lot.”

“A lot?” The gates held no match to the tears that shook and clambered their rusted metal bars. Your vision blurred as you closed your eyes, willing away the oncoming storm. “I hardly saw anything!”

Sam didn’t respond, only held you tighter as he pressed wordless kisses to the top of your head. “Sam, how can I even call myself a hunter if I can’t even face something as weak as a changeling?” A heavy breath fell upon your lips as you inhaled deeply. “Useless.”

“You’re not useless.”

Hushed voices woke you, arguing about something incoherent as one voice raised over the other. Sam was no longer with you, but the bed was still warm where he had spent the night.

“We’re leaving today, Sam. Nothing’s around anymore.” A muted whisper danced down the hall.

“We can’t just leave her alone now.”

“She’s safe. Changelings gone, wiped out the entire family tree. I’ll be out in the car; we’ve got another case. Bobby called this morning.”

The front door shut, and footsteps fell down the hall toward your room. Sam peeked his head in, a smile immediately spreading across his face. “Hey.”

“You’re leaving?”

He sighed, wiping a hand down his face, dragging slightly at his chin. “Dean wants to get to the next case.”

“Oh.” You shifted in bed, propping yourself up on your arm. “Well, thank you.”

“I wish we could stay longer.” Sam moved to the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped as he sat on the corner, the weight willed you forward. He laid a hand on your shoulder. “Are you going to be okay?”

“I’ll be fine.”

Seeing Sam out was one of the first times you had taken a hard look at the hole in your floor. Dean had done a make-shift job in patching it up. Thin sheets of plywood were nailed together haphazardly with different sized nails hammered in here and there. The wood wobbled as you walked over it. Maybe it was time to skip town.

Dean stood on the curb with a disposable cup, with what you presumed to be filled with coffee, sipping away as he relished in the morning sun. Perking up, he waved a big hand to you. “Stay safe, kiddo!”

“Will do, Mr. Stark!” You hollered back, eliciting a laugh from Sam.

“You sure you’ll be okay?”

“Yeah.” You turned back to the living room. “I’ll probably have to move. I don’t need the cops on my tail for the missing people burnt in my backyard.”

Sam waited a moment, a thoughtful look on his face. He bit the inside of his mouth and glanced back to Dean who was now climbing into the driver’s side front seat. “You could come with us.”

“Sam.”

“I’m serious. We have a friend you could stay with. He does the same stuff you do. Lots of land, if you hate him you would never have to see him. He’s an older guy, a little rough-around-the-edges but has a good heart. It’s our home-base.” He grasped at your hand. “I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

“I’ll consider it.”

~~*~~

“We’re home!” The front door slammed shut as two sets of footsteps fell down the front hall into the kitchen.

“Hunt go well?” You wiped your hands and moved to greet the hunter. Sam smiled, slipping his arm around you as he planted a kiss on your cheek. “Mhm.” He replied.

“What?” Bobby had hardly looked up from his desk as he tapped away on his phone. “No kiss for me?”

“Good to see you too, Bobby.”

Dean slid into the kitchen, making a disgusted face as he took in the scene before him. “Couples.” He grumbled, tugging the fridge door open and grabbing a beer. “No kiss for me either?” He grinned smugly, making quick time as he found a bottle opener and lost himself in the cold liquid.

It hadn’t taken long for you to accept Sam’s offer. After an entire five minutes of deliberation, you agreed. The important things fit perfectly into the back seat of the Impala, mostly books and electronics. Dean grumbled at the slight delay in events as he directed himself back home as opposed to the case. Your relationship with Sam had blossomed from there.

A ding rung out from the study. “That’s me!” You slipped out of Sam’s grasp. “Got work to do.”

#sam x reader #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester #sam #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester oneshot #sam imagine #sam oneshot #sam winchester fanfiction #supernatural fic #spn fic

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awhitehead17 · 4 years

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Meddling Kids

Dick & Jason, Dick & Tim, Secret Agents AU, Humour, Assassins, Fights, Oblivious Dick, Jason loves bread, Sassy Tim.

Summary: With little information to go on, Dick and Jason are sent on a mission to grab some files before they fall into the wrong hands. It doesn't help that the mysterious persona 'Red Robin', is rumoured to be after the same files. What is clear is that they need to grab those files first.

A/N: This is done for ‘AU: Secret Agents’ on my Batfam Bingo 2019 Card.

Also on AO3

Enjoy! :D

“I hate these things.”

“You hate a lot of things.”

“Well... yeah, but these monkey suits are definitely near the top of that list. They’re fucking awful.”

Dick sends Jason a glance as he puts his jacket on. He didn’t mind them as much, yeah they weren’t the comfiest things in the world but they make him look great so he’ll take that as a win. He watches as his brother puts his own jacket on and straightens it out. Dick smirks, “Well you do brush up nicely Jace, doesn’t that matter?”

Jason responds with a glare, “Oh go suck a dick.”

The two of them go about finishing to get ready for the night ahead of them in their shared apartment. Once they were both done and everything was sorted they exit their home and make their way down to the shiny sleek black limousine waiting for them outside.

They climb in and settle at the back of the car, allowing the trusty driver to take them where they need to be without worry of interruptions.

“So what’s the plan again? And why the hell is the old man making us do this when he could easily do it himself?” Jason questions with annoyance.

Dick sighs before telling him, “To most, we’re going to the charity gala to make up for our adoptive father’s absence as he’s busy in Japan doing business. Then to the odd few, we’re actually going under cover because there are rumours of files being passed around at this very gala. Our mission is to try and infiltrate these files to stop them getting in the wrong hands.”

“Right,” Jason drawls out. “And we don’t know what’s in these files as well as not knowing whom is after them?”

Dick’s reluctant to answer because he’s knows what’s coming, knows what Jason’s reaction is going to be. “No…”

“Fucking unbelievable! This is why I question working with him, he doesn’t even trust us with the information we need to complete the mission! How the fuck are we supposed to do it huh? We don’t know what the files are, who even has the files to start with and who wants the goddamn files!”

Rubbing a hand across his head Dick sighs, “I know Jason, I know, but it is what it is. It’s a do as your told and don’t ask questions situation.”

Jason glares at him, “It’s stupid.”

Dick doesn’t comment again, knowing that his brother is right. Working as secret agents for their adoptive father is a challenge in itself, especially when they all butt heads and have different opinions on the matter. It’s especially challenging when Bruce doesn’t give them any information regarding the mission he’s sent them on, Dick can see why Jason is annoyed, however there isn’t anything he can do about it.

That’s when he remembers something else to do with this mission. “Oh also I heard that there are rumours about Red Robin being at this gala as well, even potentially after the same files we are.”

Jason’s glare turns into a surprised expression. “Oh? That’s great and all but we don’t know who Red Robin is! All we know about Red Robin is that they’ve been bugging both Bruce and Barbara for over two years, Bruce because he can’t work out who it is and Barbara because they constantly hack her network and pass all of her firewalls.”

Dick couldn’t help but snicker because he’s not wrong. This mysterious ‘Red Robin’ character appeared two years ago, at first they were completely paranoid of whoever this is because they appear to have extreme knowledge of technology, they appeared to be a brilliant detective and tactician.

Over time, while they never fully trusted Red Robin, they’ve come to accept them. It seems like they never mean any harm as they never do any damage to their systems or never seem to get up to anything along the lines of evil.

What makes the situation difficult is that they don’t know who ‘Red Robin’ is. Of course they’ve tried to work it out, tried to find out who this detective that can hack into one of the most secured systems on the planet is. That’s where he annoys Bruce, the top agent, Dick’s and Jason’s boss slash adoptive father, because Bruce couldn’t work it out. The man grows more and more frustrated each month and it was hilarious to see.

Red Robin bugs Barbara, who was their top systems and comms person, because she too couldn’t work it out and because Red keeps on getting into her systems and despite everything she tries she can’t seem to get back into theirs.

The fact that Red Robin may be at the gala, in person, was a big matter. The annoying thing was that they just didn’t know who that was so being able to identify them would be tricky.

“Who knows,” Dick starts adjusting his sleeve, “When we get the files we may find out who Red Robin is after all, wouldn’t that be a treat?”

Jason shoots him a look, “Yeah, whoopee-doo. I just want to get this mission out of the way.”

They both fall silent and don’t talk for the rest of the drive. When they finally pull up outside of the charity gala, they’re let out of the limo and put on their best smiles for the reporters surrounding the, being Bruce Wayne's sons certainly gets them a lot of coverage no matter where they are. What the press don’t know, nor will they find out, is that Bruce Wayne is the boss of the biggest secret service in the world.

Dick and Jason make their way up to the building and get into the gala with no issues. Once inside they each grab a glass of champagne that was being passed around and stand together to get an over view of the gala.

Jason leans over closely, whispering into his ear, “So how do you want to play this? Walk around until we find something or someone fishy?”

Dick scans the crowd around them, lots of people varying in ages surround them, all dressed to the nines chatting away with one another like they were having a good time. As his brother pointed out earlier in the car, they have no idea on who was involved with these files that Bruce wants them to obtain. It was going to be a hit or miss kind of situation which sucked but what could they do?

He leans towards Jason, “That’s probably best yeah, scope around see what you can find out and get talking to people. You know what to do.” Jason looks at him and nods once in confirmation. “We’ve got our comms in if anything happens, Babs is on standby if we need her.”

They start to split up then but before his brother could get too far away Dick turns back around, “And Jason, don’t eat all the bread.”

Jason narrows his eyes at him and sticks a middle finger up in response, Dick snickers and spins around to get started on his mission.

Going around and talking to people is easy for Dick, he’s been doing for many years and by now it comes all naturally. Being Bruce Wayne’s son since he was 9 years old has given him plenty of time to practice being nice and friendly to rich snobs and then there’s the added bonus of being involved in the Secret Service since he was 11. He’s had a lot of practice in his life, this part was easy.

He wonders about the gala for an hour talking to a variety of people trying to get a feel of the situation at hand. It wasn’t easy to work out who was going to be involved in the exchange of files that night as they had next to no information on the individuals, but he’s keeping an eye and an ear out for anything.

He was sipping his champagne (which was still the glass he collected when he first came in) when he was suddenly bumped from behind. Tensing up and getting ready to spring into action he spins around and is surprised to see a familiar teenager who looks guilty. Upon recognising him Dick grins, “Timmy! How’s it going buddy?”

“Oh hey Dick, sorry I didn’t mean to bump into you.”

Dick wraps an arm around the teenager’s shoulders and pulls him into a side hug. Dick’s known Tim since he was a kid, he was their neighbour and Dick often babysat him when the kid’s parents went away (which was a lot) so he’s become like a second younger brother. They all adore him, he’s pretty sure that if Tim didn’t have parents Bruce would adopt him with no hesitation.

He looks at the teenager, seeing him dressed in a navy tux that makes him look like a baby CEO and was holding a glass of what looked like soda. “What you doing here then? Are your parents back from their latest trip?”

Tim shrugs and glances around the room before looking up at him, “No they’re not back, but they requested that I make an appearance for their name sake. They would be annoyed if they find out I didn’t show up.”

Dick frowns at that, it sounds so sad that Tim has to do things like this just to try and please his parents to get their approval. He knows Tim’s had a hard upbringing and it makes him go soft for the kid. He gives him a squeeze, “Well give it another hour then make disappear.”

He feels Tim tense against him, clearly not liking the idea of leaving early. “I guess I could.” He says tightly. Dick doesn’t comment on it, choosing to let it go because it’s clear Tim doesn’t want to talk about it. He lets his arm drop from around him, “Did you know Jason’s here too. Have you seen him?”

Tim nods, smiling slightly, “Yeah I’ve seen him. He was at the food table eating bread rolls when I went over to grab a snack.”

“Of course he was,” Dick sighs. He hears Tim laugh at that, the kid knowing exactly what the other man was like. Jason and Tim have an odd relationship, at first Jason couldn’t stand him, absolutely hating his guts but then over time he seemed to have gotten used to the kid and even became protective of him. It was oddly sweet.

The only problem with having Tim around however was that Tim didn’t know about the Secret Service. They all would love to have him on board, he was crazy smart, talented, really deductive but the underlying problem was his parents. They didn’t fully know what Tim’s relationship with his parents were like, they know only what Tim wants them to know. Of course they have their suspicions but that can only take them so far.

As Dick opens his mouth to say something else to Tim, Jason’s voice buzzes in his ear. “Bingo, I found the first of our unknown associates. Just walked in through the door and of fucking course, we really should have guessed who it was.”

Dick doesn’t respond despite how much he wanted to. It’s great that Jason’s found the first one but what did he mean by they should have known? Who was it? He clears his thoughts and look down at Tim who was glancing around the gala, he feels bad but he does have a job to do at the end of the day.

He pokes the kid’s shoulder lightly to get his attention, two blue eyes stare up at him and Dick gives him an easy smile, “I gotta go as there’s someone I need to talk to because Bruce asked me to, how about we meet up some time soon, just you, me and Jay? We could go to the skate park or something?”

Tim stiffly nods, frowning slightly as he does so, “Uh sure. Sounds great.”

Dick reaches out and squeezes his shoulder, “Great, I’ll message you soon okay.”

He leaves Tim standing there as he starts making his way through the crows towards the door where Jason had said he saw the first unknown associate. Dick gets near the entrance and looks around, after turning in full circles like four times he frowns and finally responds back to Jason, “Do you still have eyes on them? I can’t see them.”

It takes a few moments but soon enough his brother’s voice was in his ear, though sounding a bit muffled like he was eating. “Yeah I can see them, they’re at your six talking to Miss Anderson, the lady in the horrid green dress.”

Dick turns around and freezes when he sees who Jason had been on about. There he was, talking to the elderly lady with a fake smile plastered on his, was none other than Lex Luthor. Dick sighs, “You’re kidding me? What is he up too now?”

“Beats me. Though I certainly wouldn’t mind throwing a punch or two at the guy after last time.”

Pinching his nose, Dick lets out a long breath, Jason wasn’t helping matters here. While he can agree with his brother’s desire to punch the man he knows it doesn’t work like that. “Right,” he says trying to get them back on track, “Just because he’s here doesn’t mean he’s involved, while it’s very likely that he is, we can’t be certain. Keep an eye out for the potential second.”

He moves away before he gets caught staring, as he moves swiftly through the crowd occasionally chatting to rich folk, he keeps an eye on Luthor at all times.

“Where are you?” Dick asks after a long period of time, despite going around the floor three times he hadn’t bumped into Jason once. It made him wonder where his brother was and what he was up to. It didn’t help that he’s also been very quiet.

“Up above. Figured it was an easy vantage point, plus I’m not surrounded by a load of rich snobs who are stuck way too far up their own asses.”

Dick glances up, looking for him, after a couple seconds he finds Jason leaning over the railing with a glass of champagne in his hand. Jason sees him looking and offers a little wave. Dick rolls his eyes and goes back to what he was doing.

It was another 15 minutes until the second person they were looking for comes into the room at long last. Dick curses under his breath once he sees him. “Found associate number two, or at least who is a suspect.”

Who Dick was watching comes strolling into the room looking like he owns the world. In his long green and gold robes that trail behind him, his head and chin turned up at everyone as he wonders into the room with no cares of the world. It was none other than Ra’s Al Ghul.

“What a fucking coincidence.” Jason’s comment obviously means he’s seeing Ra’s too.

Dick turns away before the man could see him, moving through the crowd to get out of eye sight. “What’s the chances? Two huge names coming to a puny charity gala. Something’s up.”

“Who do you think has the file? Luthor giving it Al Ghul or the other way around?”

“I have no idea. For now just keep an eye on them, I’ll watch Ra’s while you watch Luthor, if one makes a move instantly report.”

“Gotcha.”

Dick keeps an eye out for anyone else who could be a suspect but he never lets Al Ghul out of his sight. The man walks around and talk with people like he belongs there, but Dick knows better, knows that he really doesn’t belong there. To majority of the world Al Ghul was a kind man who often gives to charity and helps those in need. To Dick and a few others he was a criminal master mind, the head of an entire empire full of assassins ready to kill.

The fact he and Luthor were here at the same time was no coincidence. Both were bad men, both were always up to no good, both only doing things for their own benefits and no one else’s.

About half an hour later, Dick spies on Ra’s as he excuses himself from a conversation with a small group of elite Gothamites. The man heads out of the room heading in the direction where the toilets were. A good cover really but Dick knows better. After radioing Jason a quick message, he follows the man several feet behind, making sure to keep him insight.

As expected Ra’s goes straight past the toilets and down the corridor before turning around the corner. Dick continues to pursue him, following the man as he travels up some steps to the next level and as he travels down another corridor. Not once does he stop moving and not once does he look over his shoulder. Dick probably could guess that Ra’s knew he was being followed and was allowing it to happen, which meant nothing good for Dick but he continues forward because he needs to.

As he follows behind him, he gets a message from Jason saying how Luthor was now on the move. After that it becomes much clearer that it was these two they were after.

Ra’s keeps going until he gets to the end of the corridor and stops in front of a door. With precise movements he opens it up and steps inside the room. Dick waits a few moments before creeping forward, he plasters himself against the wall and peers into the room to find Ra’s standing there in the middle of it with his back against the door.

The room was an old fashioned study. A wooden desk with elegant patterns engraved in it was one side of the room which was placed in front of a wooden door, large open windows were opposite it, two single velvet love seats sit in the other corner of the room.

Dick sneaks inside the room as quickly and as quietly as he can and slips behind the desk and the chair parked at it. He stays in a crouch and listens intently as he watches Ra’s stand there in the middle of the room.

“I know you’re here agent. You may as well come out. It can’t do you any good being crouched like that for a long time.”

Dick curses and debates what to do. When he glances up he sees Ra’s looking in his direction despite the chair and desk hiding him. Knowing that he’s lost he stands up, squaring his shoulders and gets ready for anything. A man like Ra’s doesn’t travel alone.

“Ra’s.” Dick says coldly. This isn’t his first interaction with the man, he’s far from wanting to be polite with manners.

“I give you credit agent, for following me as you did, for waiting as long as you did but unfortunately it wasn’t enough.” He mocks Dick with an almost sneer.

“If anyone was to know what patience is all about, it would be me.” Dick comments. “Why are you here Ra’s? What’s your goal?”

The man doesn’t seem surprised at the change in subject. He stares at Dick with a cold calculating look. “You should leave the interrogation to your father Grayson. He’s much better at it than you.”

Dick scowls at the jab but doesn’t comment.

“You say you have patience, why don’t you wait and find out what I’m here for. You’ll be lovely company.”

As the words leave his mouth the door behind the desk bursts open. The action startles him and he gets into a defensive position as four assassins pour into the door. The first one launches himself at Dick and he finds himself dodging and throwing punches. The second joins in and Dick fights him off as well.

It becomes a battle of four against one and he holds his ground well. He gets the first one on the floor who doesn’t get back up. The second one gets knocks down but slowly rises back up. Unfortunately that’s where his luck ends. A well-aimed punch to the stomach winds him and he instinctively hunches over, allowing an opening for a kick to the head which knocks him down to the floor. Before he could get his bearings they were on his back and tying his hands together, he’s thoroughly tied and pinned down by the time he gets his head together.

He grunts and squirms trying to get free but his efforts are futile and he quickly gives up. He cranes his neck up and glares at Ra’s, who was watching him with a sinister smile, having clearly enjoyed their scuffle. The bastard.

Nothing was said between them and it stays silent for several minutes until commotion outside the room could be heard. Dick twists around in his binds to glance at the door. His eyes widen as he sees Jason being pushed through. His brother stumbles in before he’s forced down to his knees next to Dick by another assassin.

They share a look surprise and anger when they make eye contact. Not only had Dick been caught but Jason too. Great. This mission is going so well. When they get out of this Bruce is going to give them such a lashing for this mess, it’s not going to be pretty.

After Jason’s down on his knees another figure walks in. Crisp in an expensive, tailored suit was Lex Luthor. He casts them a disgusted look before turning his attention on Ra’s.

“Nothing was ever mentioned about the extra company Al Ghul.” He scowls. “I don’t appreciate being watched and then stalked.”

“Them being here was not my doing. I had no control over it, however as you can see, I planned ahead and figured something like this would happen. It’s been sorted.”

“You call this sorted?” Luthor walks around them, looking down scornfully, “Dick Grayson and Jason Todd, the Wayne brats. I do have to admit, what an unwelcomed surprise.”

“As if this is what I want to be doing on my Friday evening.” Jason snorts glaring at the men above them. “You’re not that special Luthor.”

Luthor stops in his tracks and looks at Jason pointedly, “And yet here we are.” He turns back to ra’s. “Enough games, I want what we discussed and then I can be gone. There’s only so much pretending I can do a night.”

As Ra’s gestures to one of his assassins still in the room, Dick squirms around on the floor until he’s sat up next to Jason. The two of them share a look, trying to work out how to get out of this mess. They can’t let Luthor leave with those files, who knows what kind of damage the man could do with them.

Jason sends him a look which Dick can interpret, it’s his brother’s look of, ‘I have a plan’. While Dick adores his brother, and he really does, Jason’s plans aren’t always the best so seeing that look does nothing to help ease his mind of their current situation.

Above them, Ra’s passes over an A4 envelope to Luthor who instantly snatches it from the man’s hand and holds it tightly. They watch as he opens it up, scans the contents on the inside before nodding approvingly. “Good. That means our business here is done.”

“A pleasure as always Luthor.”

“Hardly. Now I must be going.”

Luthor turns and starts heading towards the door but not before scowling down at the agents on the floor, “What ever you do, make sure you dispose of these thoroughly, wouldn’t want them meddling once again.” Then like that he walks out of the room.

As the man disappears from view, Dick shoots Jason an alarmed look but his brother wasn’t paying him any attention. His gaze was on the man still in front of them.

“So many ways I want to get rid of you. Both talented in your own ways but stubborn and too drastic for my liking. A shame really, I could do with people of your abilities.”

“How about I narrow down your options?” Jason comments glaring at him.

Dick raises an eyebrow in question just as Ra’s eyes him up. “Oh, what’s that then?”

A snapping sound could be heard and then Jason was suddenly springing up and launches himself against Ra’s, “This.”

Dick didn’t get the chance to be surprised by Jason’s actions or as he takes on the assassins in the room by himself because he notices a knife lying where Jason had been. Using the opportunity while everyone else was busy with Jason, Dick awkwardly shuffles along to grab the knife to cut himself free as quickly as he can.

To Jason’s credit he holds them off for a long time. Once free Dick joins in on the action, making the playing field more even. While they were both excellent fighters individually, together they become almost unstoppable. Jason’s surprise attack of course giving them the advantage they needed at the beginning.

They take out all of the ninjas and once it was just them and Ra’s left standing.

“Go find and track down Luthor.” Jason tells him getting into a defensive position against Ra’s. “I can handle him.”

When Dick doesn’t move, his brother shoots him a sharp look, “Go. I can handle it. We can’t let Luthor get away with those files.”

Dick looks between them before nodding. He was reluctant to leave Jason alone but he knew that he was right. Those files were important somehow and he couldn’t let them get away.

He runs out of the room and head back the way he came. Dick has no idea how far Luthor would have gotten by now but hopefully it wasn’t too far or else he’s going to need a way to track him. A back up would be to contact Babs, who was tech savvy and could track the man for him if it came down to it.

Dick runs down the corridor and turns the corner before continuing to run. It was as he was getting to the end that he hears familiar voices talking from around the bend. He slows down to a stop and takes a moment to listen in.

“Move out the way boy.”

“No can do Mister Luthor.”

“I am not someone you want to get on your bad side.”

“That's questionable, but I wasn’t planning on it. The only thing I want is those files.”

“I have no idea what you’re on about. You may have mistaken me for someone else.”

“I’m pretty sure I haven’t.”

“Move out of my way.”

“Afraid I can’t do that. I can’t let you go, not until I have those files.”

There’s a moment of silence between them and Dick works on not letting out any sounds at his surprise. One of the voices is Luthor’s, that’s just clear and obvious at this point. Thankfully he hadn’t gotten very far.

However that second voice Dick knew without looking. It was Tim. That was Tim’s voice and he was standing up against Luthor asking for the very files he needs to get. But how did Timmy know about the files? Why would he want the files in the first place?

“Mister Luthor, I’m giving you two options here, either you give me those files by choice and we can part ways like nothing ever happened. Or, I forcefully remove them from you and without your body guard here to help protect you, well odds aren’t exactly in your favour.”

There’s another pause and Dick finally peers around the corner to find Luthor and Tim at odds with one another. Luthor’s back was to him and he could just make out Tim’s frame beyond the man. The scene was almost comical, Tim’s tiny size compared to Luthor’s tall frame was such a contradiction, it would make anyone wonder what damage Tim could do to someone.

Dick was so confused to why Tim was standing against Luthor in the first place. What was that kid even thinking? He could get hurt!

“Oh?” Luthor’s tone was mocking, “And what is a kid like you going to do to a full grown man like me?”

“I know I may not look like much but trust me I can cause havoc when I need too. It also doesn’t help that you don’t recognise me when I’m not in front of the computer screen.”

A few beats go by as Tim’s words hang in the air. Dick could pick up the double meaning in his words but he couldn’t work out exactly what the teenager was on about. Apparently Luthor had a bit of trouble working it out also but he still got it before Dick did, “Red Robin. You’re the Red Robin.”

“The one and only.”

And wasn’t that a punch to the gut. Dick felt almost breathless. Timmy, Tiny Tim, his little brother, their next door neighbour, was the one thing that none of them could work out. Timmy was the one causing mayhem in their lives. How? How was that possible. Why?

Dick shook his head trying to get back on the scene at hand, trying to get over the fact that Tim was Red Robin and how he didn’t know about it.

“Enough games.” Luthor growls. He reaches behind him and Dick watches wide eyed as he brings out a gun and points it at Tim. “I don’t know what kind of kid you are, but I have no qualms about killing kids, especially those who are too nosey for their own good.”

He may not have a problem with it but Dick certainly does. That action alone was enough to get him to finally engage with the fight. He creeps out from around the corner and sneaks up on Luthor. Before the man could even blink Dick disarms him, without the gun going off, and subdues him so he’s on the ground in hand cuffs.

With a jab to the neck Dick knocks him unconscious before patting him down searching for the files. He finds the envelope tucked away in a secret jacket pocket. He grins happily, finally having them in his hand.

Now that was done, there was something else he needed to address. He turns around expectantly and blinks in surprise when he finds the area empty. He frowns as he looks around, looking for the kid that was there moments ago. He lets out an annoyed sigh, giving into the fact that Tim had pulled a disappearing act on him, which, fair enough but at the same time was rude.

There were so many questions Dick had for him. He wants to know how Tim became Red Robin, why he became that persona, does he know who they all are, what were the reasons behind his actions, why hasn’t he said anything before.

So many questions and so many explanations.

Dick doesn’t get the chance to think about it any further because he could hear footsteps coming from behind him. He tenses up, getting ready for a fight before he realises who it is as they turn the corner. It’s only Jason.

He holds the file up with a triumphant smile, “Got the files. Ra’s dealt with?”

His brother has a black eye forming, a nasty gash on his forehead and parts of his suit were ripped, but apart from that he looked relatively okay.

“He got away, called a retreat and I was over powered. But that’s not particularly important. You got the file that’s what matters. B will be happy at least.”

Dick hums and looks down at Luthor’s unconscious form. “I’ll let the police handle this, for now lets get heading back, B will want these files.”

After making an anonymous call to the PD, the two of them start heading towards the back exit of the gala. The last thing they need is someone questioning Jason’s new appearance.

“Did you ever see Red Robin, he was supposed to show right? I didn’t notice anyone who could be him at all.”

Dick goes stiff at the mention of the persona. He hadn’t wanted to talk about that just yet, not until he got the answers he needed. To his annoyance, his stiffness doesn’t go unnoticed by Jason. His brother reaches out and grabs his arm to stop him from walking. “Dick. You saw him, didn’t you? You know who it is?”

Dick swallows and looks away. Should he give Tim up? What if he was wrong about this and it was all a big understanding?

Jason’s grip on his arm tightens. “Don’t you dare lie to me. You don’t have to tell B but you need to at least tell me.”

Dick takes a deep breath and lets it out, he looks at Jason. “It’s Tim. Tim is Red Robin.”

Several moments go by and all Jason was doing was blinking at him. He then lets out an obnoxious laugh like Dick had just told the world’s best joke. “Yeah okay Dickie bird, good one. Tim, Tiny Tim, the little baby bird, as Red Robin. That’s gold.”

Dick wasn’t laughing. He glares at his brother until he sobers up. “I’m not joking. I saw and heard him talking to Luthor, he revealed himself and claimed to wanting these files. Luthor then drew a gun on him and of course I wasn’t about to let that happen so I got involved but by the time I went to talk to him he was gone.”

His brother blinks at him again, “You’re not joking. You seriously think Tim is Red Robin, the exact thing causing both B and Babs ulcers because they can’t work out who it is.”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” Dicks says softening his expression. “I honestly don’t believe it myself but I want to get answers before taking this any more forward. I said to him that we’ll meet up soon, I plan on interrogating him then about it.”

“So we’re keeping this just between us.”

“For now yes.”

“Bruce will be pissed at us for keeping that information from him.”

“I don’t care. I want to get the facts correct before proceeding this further. Anyway, these mysterious files should keep him busy long enough for us to work it out before he catches on.”

“Alright, if this all goes down hill and then I’m blaming you.”

“Sure.”

“I mean it Dickhead, I ain’t taking the blame for your crappy decisions.”

“Whatever Jason.”

“So now what?”

Dick grins at him, “Now we have a little birdie to catch.”

#dick grayson #Jason Todd #Tim Drake #lex luthor #Ras Al Ghul #Secret Agents AU #batfam bingo 2019 #fanfiction #humour #assassins #fights #sassy tim #oblivious dick #Jason loves bread

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bluehhj · 5 years

Text

listen to me — chapter 44

LISTEN TO ME — 0044

listen to me masterlist;

WORDS: 2.3K

a/n: ok so i'll leave the notes here in the beginning so i can wish happy bday to the most beautiful and precious angel and sunshine of this world, kim seungmin! have an amazing bday bby, i wish u all the best! happy seungmin day!!

see u guys there in the end!!

Yeji uncapped a pen right after crossing her legs and resting a small notepad on her thigh. "Let's start at the beginning," she said, taking advantage of the silence and too much attention the group was paying to her investigation. "Han Jisung. Which of you had the most contact with him yesterday?"

"We talked in the morning and in the late afternoon," answered Hyoyeon. By this point, they were all gathered in an almost perfect circle. Perhaps the reception wasn't the best place to discuss, but, given the time and the fact that Yeji had a certain intimacy with most, though not in a positive way, allowed the exception. "It's hard to spend a lot of time with Jisung, he's always busy with college and work."

"Were there any mood swings both times you talked to him?"

"Well... He's naturally annoyed, but let's say at night he's more flexible than when he just woke up."

"Didn't the friends notice anything different?"

Hyunjin was the first to deny it. "He was normal."

"What about Jinah?" Yeji looked up after making a short note and examined the faces of each present. "Aren't her parents here?"

"They live in the countryside," Chan replied. He had been summoned back to the reception, which prevented him from continuing to observe Choi's surgery. If it was frustrating on the one hand, he could almost feel grateful on the other, since the feeling that he couldn't do anything behind a glass wall was a thousand times worse. "We'd rather call when dawn breaks so as not to scare them at this hour."

"How did Jinah behave during the day?"

Jade bit her bottom lip. "She looked apprehensive, but I think she was only nervous about the dinner."

"What dinner?"

"Last night's dinner where she would talk to Jisung's mom for the first time," the american explained. "She was nervous, afraid maybe Hyoyeon didn't like her."

"But how could I not like her?" muttered Hyoyeon. Although her concern was mostly Jisung, she was also worried about Jinah. "I hope she'll be all right soon, poor girl."

"I don't know if that's all..." said Changbin, hesitantly. Yeji raised an eyebrow in a silent request for him to continue. "Woojin, Yoorim and I were probably the last people she talked to before meeting Jisung, and I noticed that she seemed too tense to be scared, because she had seen Hyoyeon once and being so nervous around someone was never part of her way of acting."

"The first impression you two had of each other wasn't friendly?" Yeji asked Hyoyeon, who immediately denied it.

"I've seen her and liked her, and she also seemed to sympathize with me."

The policewoman paused. Her eyes searched again for silent information on everyone's features, and the way she lingered longer on Yoorim, as if controlling herself not to say anything, made Hyunjin straighten in his chair. Yeji always looked at his girlfriend like she wanted to strangle her, unfortunately that was common, but Hwang was especially annoyed this time.

"Did Jinah have enemies or anyone who could do any harm to the people around her?" she asked suddenly, staring at Heo for the next three seconds, until her long eyelashes flickered and Yeji took notes again.

Chan, Jade and Changbin exchanged a look. "A while ago, she was threatened by an ex-boyfriend" evidently more tense, as if only then had the hypothesis come into his mind and hit him hard, the medical student replied. "Jisung himself took her to the police station to make a complaint, then the guy was summoned, probably paid a fine and then disappeared."

"Wait" Hyoyeon narrowed her eyes and intercepted the policewoman's next question. "What does all this have to do with the accident?"

"It wasn't a simple accident," Yeji explained calmly. Half a dozen lips parted in surprise, but she ignored it. "The front of the car was wrecked after the crash, but, still, we managed to notice very significant details, such as lack of brake fluid, oil leakage from one of the power steering hoses and most surprising of all..." she smirked, as if she were about to strike a fatal blow, though she didn't show in who. "A small ring locking the serpentine chain which was getting tighter and tighter as the engine warmed up, so the car lost control. I must say that sabotage had everything to be perfect, were it not forgetting, or rather, stupidity, by its author who forgot to wipe the fingerprints off the ring. The results that point to the culprit will be shown today."

Everyone was too shocked to ask questions in the next few seconds. Believing in fatality was acceptable, car accidents happened everyday, but knowing that someone had premeditated it, out of sheer cowardice, was scary.

"B-but..." stammered Hyoyeon, almost shakily. "But that's impossible! Jisung put the car in the garage when he arrived at my sister's house and everything was normal. The only thing he complained about was the lack of signal on his phone and Jinah's."

"Did the car belong to Jisung?" at first, Yeji focused only on that detail. Hyoyeon nodded, confused. "And why was Jinah behind the wheel when it happened?"

"Jisung seemed to have drunk a little when we arrived for help," Chaerin said for the first time. Seungmin was sitting right next to her. "Maybe he had given up the wheel thinking about it."

"So, the target wasn't Jinah..." Yeji muttered to herself. Her mind was racing, almost as if she could hear the gears working fast. She looked at Yoorim once more, finding nothing she was looking for.

"What do you mean?" Hyunjin was already more than bothered by that.

"The driver's seat airbag didn't work, so, whoever did it, didn't realize Jinah would drive. If there's one certainty to all this, it's that the culprit wanted Jisung to suffer more."

"But it still doesn't make sense!" insisted Hyoyeon. "There's no way someone sabotaged this car without our noticing!"

"There's no security cameras in your house?" Yeji turned to Sooyoung, who watched everything without saying anything. The woman shook her head no.

"The place I live in is so quiet that I never worried about it, nor the neighbors, who are already all old gentlemen and ladies. My only alarm, by saying, are my dogs, but they weren't loose when we were having dinner."

"How not?" Hyoyeon turned to her.

"They just weren't." Sooyoung shrugged, as if it were an obvious answer, and it really was. The three furry puppies would never leave visitors alone if they weren't entertained with their toys in the back of the house. "I left them in the yard, otherwise they would be barking too much."

"Oh my God," whined Hyoyeon, covering her face with her hands. "I heard noises on the porch more than once, but I didn't pay attention because I thought it was your dogs! What an idiot, what an idiot!"

"There was no way you could know" Sooyoung tried to comfort her, although she was also distressed, and looked back at Yeji. "One side of my house has a wooden fence. It's too low, so I think if anyone tried to get in to the garage, it could only have been there. We didn't see anything because we were distracted in the dining room."

"With we were you included who?"

"Hyoyeon, Jisung, Jinah and me."

Yeji asked the next question non-stop writing on the yellowed sheet of notepad. "Where were the rest of you?"

"Chan, Jade, Hyunjin and I went to the cinema together," replied Felix. "We learned what happened only when we were back."

"Changbin and I stayed at Jinah's apartment for a while," added Woojin, trying to put aside the bitterness in his mouth for talking civilly with Yeji.

"And we were coming back from my mother's house," added Seungmin, referring to him and Chaerin.

The silence followed, being cut only by the noise of the cop's pen tip rubbing against the paper until she stopped her movements and brought her acid gaze to the last person left.

"And you, Yoorim?"

"I wasn't feeling well and I went home early," she answered right away, tasting Woojin's uncomfortable feeling, only exponentially stronger.

"At what time?"

"At eight thirty at night."

"Didn't Jinah leave home shortly before that?"

Yoorim pressed her nails against her closed palm and felt the sting of the scratches on her skin. She had been cornered by Yeji's smug glances from the moment she set her foot in the hospital and, judging by the dozen traumatic conversations they had at other times, Yoorim was fighting the urge to go far away from her, because no matter what she did, she knew that Yeji had the right weapons to always have her in her hands.

"I don't choose when I have a headache," Yoorim replied, roughly camouflaging her almost palpable distress.

"And you left..." Yeji paused her speech as her gaze became more pointed. Anyone could easily identify the aggressive touch of provocation in her voice. "Alone?"

Yoorim jumped to her feet and shouted: "What do you mean by that?!"

Her scream startled everyone, including Hyejoo, who was almost dozing on the counter. For the second time in the night, the nurse's heart almost jumped out. She assumed, then, that by the third time she would surely have a heart attack.

"Calm down, girl" Yeji was serene, but in her eyes there was a blaze of satisfaction for finally making Yoorim explode. "I just asked you something."

"You didn't ask, you judged me!" Yoorim retorted, not giving a damn about the scolding expression of the older nurses. The sign with the request for silence wasn't for nothing, but she didn't worry about it at that moment. "And that was very stupid of you! How do you think I would do something like this to my own friends?!"

"I said nothing," she defended herself, placing such confidence in the intonation that it seemed almost impossible not to believe the veracity of her sentences, but Yoorim could see beyond. "The only person who is condemning you here, is yourself. After all, if you have nothing to hide and keep your conscience clear, there is no reason to be so exalted." Yeji tipped the pen and closed her notes. "The living proofs of this are your friends. No one was affected when I asked questions, Yoorim. Just you."

Heo clenched her jaw. Yeji had given her the material and hoped that she would weave her own trap herself. "Fuck you," Yoorim growled through her teeth and backed away in quick, furious steps.

"Look, I can arrest you for contempt of authority, huh?" she shouted so that Yoorim could still hear, but received no response. "Stupid girl."

Hyunjin stared at Yeji with such anger that, if looks burned, she would surely be on fire, and got up to go after his girlfriend. He managed to reach her not far from here, for Yoorim, though angry, didn't want to leave the hospital until she had news.

"I love you, Hyunjin, but I hate your sister!" the girl said as soon as she had one of her arms grabbed by Hwang and was forced to turn to face him. Hyunjin wasn't there to ask her about her overreaction, nor to continue Yeji's small talk. It was explicit in his dark irises that all Hwang wanted was to support Yoorim, as he always did whenever her nerves were tested by the same person. "I hate her attitudes even more! If I could, I-..." she broke off, since, above all else, she was talking about her boyfriend's family. "Sorry."

Hyunjin hugged her. Yoorim buried her face against his chest and let out a painful breath. The caress Hyunjin had started on her back was reassuring, but she still felt as fragile as an eggshell.

"It's okay, my angel, I'd feel the same way too if I were in your shoes," Hyunjin said softly, sketching a calm he definitely didn't have a few minutes ago. "I'm the one who needs to apologize for often subjecting you to such situations."

"It's not your fault, love, I told you so." Yoorim looked up just enough to meet his eyes. "That's because she hates me too, you have nothing to do with it."

He was more than convinced when he put a hand on Yoorim's soft hair and made the girl hug him properly again. Yeji was complicated and made a point of turning all the endings into big headaches, and, on that troubled night, Hyunjin couldn't fit another fight with her, so he kissed Yoorim's forehead and decided to stay very close to her, which was immensely easier.

The hours kept ticking by, new people arrived at the hospital, Yeji left with the promise of returning in the afternoon and the weather got even heavier. Hyoyeon, despite having experienced so many things in her lawyer's career, wasn't content with the existence of such bad people as to plan the bad of others and endanger them so coldly. She felt physical pain at the thought that it might be her son fighting death in that operating room, but the fact that it wasn't him minimized almost nothing. Hyoyeon wondered how Jisung would suffer if something happened to Jinah, as did her parents and friends. It was then that she promised herself that she wouldn't rest until she could put the responsible in jail for as long as possible, since it seemed the height of the unjust to destroy so many joys and not suffer equally proportionate consequences.

When it was exactly four-twenty-three in the morning, controlled steps announced the arrival of someone else. Finally, the doctor in charge of Jinah entered the reception, prompting the group to get up quickly. The woman was young and didn't seem to have graduated long ago, but the seriousness of her apparently Japanese features denoted her responsibility. Her black hair in a ponytail was damp and there were still a few drops of sweat on her forehead. She hadn't even bothered to take off her surgeon's clothes before expelling a discouraged salute and finally announcing the result of her long, last hours of continuous effort.

And from so many things she had to say, the doctor immediately chose what everyone else feared to hear: "I'm sorry, but Jinah fell into a coma."

a/n: oh, i can't believe i was able to deliver this chapter to you guys on time, but i'm kind of pissed at myself because i wrote it as fast as possible. but i wanted to write soon so as not to leave anyone waiting, so sorry if this is not very good

and yes, i don't know if you guys assumed jinah's coma, but here we are. but know that all is not lost and as i said before there is still a long way to go

finally, forgive the possible errors. i'll be back asap <3

and again, HAPPY BDAY TO MY BABY SEUNGMIN!!!! <3

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heythereunderoos · 5 years

Text

Catching a Killer

Pairing: Forensic Anthropologist!Peter x FBI Agent! Tony Word Count: 1865 Warnings: Graphic depictions of death?

This was the first time the pair had been on a case in months. With Peter having traveled to Laos to catalog new bones discovered there and Tony having returned from his summons to the Pentagon. The two were a little on edge. Peter was excited to see the agent again, though he'd never say that aloud, and he could feel himself flushing with anticipation. Tony, though just having arrived home was trying to leave for vacation and this case just happened to get in his way.

"Is there any way you can hurry this up, kid? Just give it your best guess and I'll put someone in cuffs so I can catch my flight?"

Peter released a loud huff, choosing to ignore both Agent Stark and his ridiculous nicknames, as well as choosing to believe his flush was a result of the sun sat high in the sky. Peter could feel the sun beating down on his back, but was far too engrossed on the partially decayed remains in front of him and the markers bred within the bone that could help identify who this person was.

"From what I can see, she's female. Presence of wisdom teeth indicates they're over eighteen. Width and shape of the pelvic bone would concur with those deductions." Peter pauses for a second, snapping a pair of latex gloves onto his hands before reaching down and slightly rotating the skull. "Normally I wouldn't be so quick to state this, but since someone has a flight to catch, I figured I should inform you that from what I can currently see, it would seem the manner of death here is a homicide considering this large blunt force trauma to the back of the skull that could indicate cause of death."

"Petey, baby, I would say that a girl gettin' her skull bashed in is more than indicative of foul play." At this, Peter turned his head over his shoulder, still squatted over the body and sent the man a chilling glare. Despite what it seemed from the outside, the pair made a good team, though always fighting over seemingly trivial things, always managed to crack the case and put the bad guy in cuffs.

The agent looked at his shoes and adjusted his tie, trying to escape the look he knew was geared towards the stupid pet names that Peter absolutely despised. But Peter knew that if he was ever in a jam, or in any form of danger that Tony would be there to save him, though the boy avidly claimed he was no damsel in distress.

Having put the agent in his place, the boy returned to his work of examining the person before him. It was evident to him that the body was partially buried: as every part of the body excluding the lower half of the girl's right arm was covered in adipocere.

"Hey Pete, why does half of her look like that?"

"Like what?"

"All waxy, it's kinda freakin' me out." Peter sighed, as he had moved over to examine the patch of green grass beneath the partially exposed radius and ulna, before collecting all of his jumbled thoughts to explain the answer to the older man's question.

"From what we can see here," The boy gestured to the waxy half of her body, "we know that she was partially buried. For the sake of time, what you need to know is that because dirt is so compact it lacks oxygen in comparison to above the ground. And as a result of it raining pretty recently, the dirt is a moist anaerobic environment, prime for creating adipocere from the body's fat. The fat reacts with the water in the dirt in a process you may know as hydrolysis and creates this waxy substance." Peter couldn't help the condescending tone that seeped into his words and honestly he didn't even care to try to take it back.

"Right, knew that." The agent shrugged, running a hand through his messy hair and trying to observe the boy working, but at a decent distance. Tony had been working for the FBI for 7 years and considering this was his line of work, dead bodies were no new sight, though he liked getting guts on the rug of his car even less than he liked finding people dead.

"Surely." The kid replied in a snarky tone, attempting to formulate some sort of time of death gap within his head as his eyes focused on the remnants of flesh that were beginning to slip off of the arm bones.

With a sigh, the kid stood to his feet and began removing the gloves, making his way back to the car.

"Where the hell are ya going kid? I didn't get much insight on what the hell happened to this girl!" Stark called after him, with his ridiculously tiny notebook and pen in hand, attempting to catch up to the younger scientist.

"From what I can tell, as indicated by the skin slippage, the body has been there for approximately 2 or 3 days? It's a little difficult to gauge time of death considering adipocere takes weeks to form over an entire body and yet the arm that was left to the elements looks as if it has only been there for a few days. So the answer to your question is: I have to run more tests. Back at the lab. So we're bagging up the body, and taking surrounding soil samples. I'm sure that Bruce can collect those, so you're going to drive me back to the lab."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah, really."

"Well I missed breakfast for this call, so you and I are gonna head to the diner and grab a piece of pie, how's that, sweet cheeks?"

"Please just drive, Tony."

\\\\\

True to his word, Peter worked tirelessly at the lab, trying to discover the mystery of the accelerated rate of the formulation of adipocere and the slippage of skin. It had been long past 24 hours since he had eaten pie with Agent Stark, and though he could feel the exhaustion in his limbs, his mind was moving a mile a minute.

"Have you slept yet, kid?"

The boy laid the skull back on the lab table and let out a sigh, before shaking his head, his back still turned to the door and by extension, the agent.

"You really need to catch some z's in order for us to catch this guy, Pete." Still refusing to turn around, the boy stared over to the other lab table where another body laid.

"I know, Tony. This case...it's just...really getting to me." Peter swallowed the lump in his throat, attempting to shove down the load of emotions that came with working on cases like these. "I'm fine though, honestly, I feel like I could put in a couple more hours worth of work."

At this, Tony sighs, before crossing the threshold and grabbing the boy's forearm, turning him gently to face him. The agent smiled at the boy, a gentle smile, one that reassured the kid that no matter what happened, the older man would be there for him in whatever capacity he needed him to be. And so the boy gently smiled back.

"Please go nap on the couch, and I'll keep looking through what we have, see what I can find, okay?" Huffing in defeat, Peter nodded and slipped out of the room, towards his office where that heinous orange couch called his name.

\\\\\

After days upon days of endless researching, swabbing, running things through the Mass Spectrometer, calculations, phone calls, pulling strings with higher ups, and far too many all-nighters, Stark had caught the man.

He was a nobody, just like they all were. Thinking they were somebody enough to take another's life, and that was part that made Peter shiver. That was the part that reminded Peter of how he lost his brother, Harley, to some absolute nobody.

It was cases like these that shook Peter to the core, and made him reconsider his occupation. Made him wonder if he was cut out for this: looking at corpses every day and helping Tony find criminals. Criminals who felt no remorse, or sometimes who couldn't even remember their victims' names. It was days like these when he realized that he couldn't be alone. Couldn't hold himself together without someone acting as glue.

So during days like these? Tony came over.

Peter would sob, hysterically, laid atop his bed and Tony would just hold him. Tony would card his fingers through the boy's knotted, curly locks, and press kisses to his forehead. Tony would just lay there and hum gently, as the boy curled into his chest.

Tony would let him fall apart, but he would always put him back together.

"T-Tony?" The boy called out in a gravelly voice, and the man stopped his humming.

"Yes, Pete?" The man's eyes shifted from where they were focused on his hand carding through Peter's hair, to the boy's honey brown eyes, before smiling gently at him.

"W-We can do this right?" At the boy's question the man quirked an eyebrow, continuing to run his fingers through the soft strands atop the boy's head. He thought for a moment before inquiring.

"Can we do what, babe?" The boy's fists were balled up in the man's t-shirt, and silent tears streamed down his round, flushed cheeks, before he spoke up again.

"We can keep doing this. We can find bodies...and run labs and-and catch killers? We can keep looking into the face of death in order to f-find justice right? These people deserve at least that, right?" The boy looked so lost, and Tony let a soft sigh escape his lips.

"Peter...I can't even fathom how difficult this must be. How hard it must be to get out of bed every day and know that what you do is what someone did for Harley all those years ago. But you have to recognize that we're better than them. We can, and we will make sure that all of those criminals receive proper punishment for the crimes they've committed and the lives they've destroyed. Petey, baby, what we do here, together is so incredibly difficult, so incredibly taxing in that every day adds up but Pete, we save the lives of those who were potential victims. We bring peace to families and I am so incredibly sorry that you may never know that peace, but you do amazing work." The boy was shaking in his arms and so Tony held him as tight as he could without causing him pain.

"D-Do you think that maybe one-one day we'll find whoever hurt, Harley?" The man held his breath, unsure of making false promises, but he shook his head gently to himself, before nodding with fervor.

"I think that if you and I put in the time and effort that we could, yeah." Peter barely nodded on the man's chest before his honey eyes locked with the older man's dark whiskey ones.

"You wouldn't mind? P-Postponing your trip to help me?" With an airy chuckle, the man kissed the younger boys forehead and shrugged.

"Eh, the Bahamas ain't really for me anyways. What do you say we take a trip up to the NYPD and look at those old case files? See what we can dig up?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

___________________________________________________

Just wanted to say a quick thank you to everyone that read my story is supporting all of my work! I greatly appreciate it and hope you appreciated my first piece of work for Stark Week 2k19. Anyways this was based on the tv show Bones and so yeah! Love you guys and feel free to check me out on ao3

#Starker #Starker Week 2019 #reunion #day 1 #Peter Parker #Tony Stark #peter parker x tony stark #Anthropologist Peter Parker #FBI Agent Tony Stark #death #bones #science #science bros #Bruce Banner #Harley Keener

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