#the nearest marginally okay job is an hour away

[iknowicanbutwhy]

12 hour shifts should be illegal. Holy hell.

[teawithkpop]

[M] - PhysCom - Pt 7

pt 1 - pt 2 - pt 3 - bc 1 - pt 4 - pt 5 - pt 6 - pt 7

Pairing: BTS - OT7 x Reader

Rating: Mature [18+]

Length: 5.4k words

Genre: PhysCom AU - smut with dashes of angst, and a shitload of romance and complicated feelings,, uhuhu (porn with plot??)

Warnings: swearing, a lot of emotional turmoil, talk of pregnancy scares (birth control, contraceptives, etc.), implied discrimination towards sex workers (not by any of the boys dw), mentions of sexual acts

slowly hands you a cake that says "I haven't updated this fic in 14 months and I don't know when the next part is coming but here's an update thanks for being patient" in comic sans

-------

The rush to the hospital goes by in a blur of tears and shouting and panic and questions that you can't bring yourself to answer. The only constant is Min Yoongi's hand, firmly locked in your own throughout the ordeal, tethering you to reality.

You now sit in a private room on a sterile medical table and wait to be seen, too numb inside to feel the sting of the cold metal as it cuts into the backs of your thighs. Yoongi stands beside you, still holding your hand, his fingers are laced through yours and squeezing as if it could sap away the fear that eats away your insides, leaving you hollow and empty.

"It'll be alright. Don't worry about a damn thing, okay?" He shifts his weight anxiously, betraying his own underlying worries.

You barely remember him throwing his jacket over you before being rushed out of the house, and you don't feel deserving of the modest coverage. Though the leather is worn and soft against your skin, all you can feel is the harsh metallic zipper, scratching at your chest as though reminding you of your wrongdoings.

"Yoongi…" you start to say, but he cuts you off, his voice a hoarse whisper.

"Don't you fucking dare. Don't apologize."

You feel tears well up in your eyes. Your chest grows tight with the words he's forbidden you to say.

"I've already called Namjoon, it'll all be fine. Don't worry." He works his jaw and rubs your hand with surprising tenderness, glancing to the little window in the door every other second.

He's been assuring you with those same words for the past half hour, but it feels like it's been an eternity. As you glance at the clock on the wall, watching the hands tick by, you imagine a scene like that of a health documentary. Tiny sperm, swimming up your insides… fertilizing your previously dormant eggs.

Fuck. You've fucked up.

You might be pregnant with Min Yoongi's child. Your Opticon birth control implant could send you into toxic shock at any moment.

You don't see how things can get much worse than this.

The door finally opens, and what appears to be a nurse steps inside. She holds a clipboard, and examines it while she lets the door close behind her. "Let's see now, Miss..." Her shoulders slump marginally as her eyes reach your name. "Oh, right. The PhysCom."

You don't have the energy to ignore the change in her tone from friendly to disinterested, and simply nod. However, you feel Yoongi stiffen beside you.

The nurse lets out a brief sigh and dons a professional expression. "So, what appears to be the problem?" She directs the question to Yoongi.

"We think her birth control implant isn't working." Yoongi explains, his eyes darting furtively between you and the nurse. "She, um… she reached orgasm."

You flush at the memory, ashamed of your failure to adhere to even the most basic of rules set before you.

The nurse makes a noncommittal noise and jots something down. "Says here it’s an Opticon. And you didn't turn it off, sir?"

He shakes his head.

The nurse touches the end of her pen to her mouth, a note of sympathy forming in her eyes. Not for you, but for Yoongi. "How long have you had her?"

"Excuse me?" Yoongi raises an eyebrow.

The nurse tucks the clipboard under her arm, giving him a weary, patient smile. “With PhysComs, we have a list of probable scenarios we’re supposed to check for, to better inform the doctor of the situation, and speed along the treatment process.”

She barely spares you a glance before returning her attention to Yoongi, her voice lowered just a fraction. “It’s not uncommon for newly hired female PhysComs to try and… well, intentionally get pregnant from their clients. Especially if those clients have any amount of wealth or status.”

Yoongi seems lost for words.

She nods as if to agree with his surprise. “It’s some psychosis associated with the job,” she says with a shrug, then straightens her posture once more. “So has she been acting strangely at all? What are her symptoms?”

Your ears burn a bit at being talked about like you’re not in the room, but this isn’t the first time you’ve been in such a position. Oftentimes checkups during training were the same way, the physicians would speak exclusively among themselves and Madame while they examined every inch of you, inside and out.

Yoongi, however, is not used to such an experience.

“Why don’t you ask her yourself?” He says, in a voice much calmer than you would have expected. But one glance at his face tells you all you need to know. His eyes are burning like hot coals. Molten and dangerous.

The nurse doesn’t pick up on his irritation, and busily flips through the pages on her clipboard. “I need reliable information, sir. If you please,” she prompts him.

You can feel Yoongi’s hand clench around yours, and you turn to quiet him.

“It’s okay,” you murmur, hoping to reassure him enough so he’ll talk to her, but he stands his ground, his eyes glued on the nurse.

“Get out,” Yoongi says.

The nurse does a double take. “Excuse me, sir?”

“I said get the fuck out of here.” He points to the door. “Send us someone who will actually help.”

She fumes silently for a moment, but decides not to argue with him, and heads for the door in a huff.

Yoongi scoffs as you two are left alone once more. “What the fuck kind of bedside manner was that supposed to be?” He mutters, staring at the door.

“It’s okay.” You place a hand on his arm.

“No, it’s not.” He’s adamant, and you sigh wearily. How do you explain that this is only what can be expected?

You pick out a few haphazard words from the maelstrom in your brain, too tired to find the best phrasing. “Medical personnel… they don’t really get it.”

“Get what?” He asks, turning to you in outrage. “Being a fucking decent human being?”

You flinch, withdrawing your hand. You’re too tired to try and get your point across. But he notices you wilt and immediately comes closer, lowering his voice and placing both his hands on your arms. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, the edge of anger fading away to gentleness. Kindness. “What do you mean?”

You sigh, looking off to the side. You don’t deserve to have him look at you like that.

You carefully remove his hands, trying to maintain some semblance of a professional distance, even in the face of disaster. “Most hospitals don’t look favorably at PhysComs. We were given a few lectures about it in training. We use up their resources and time that could instead be given to patients who didn’t willingly put themselves at risk.”

You remember how your fellow trainees had reacted after those discussions. Many of them found the treatment to be unfair, but you yourself felt that, in a way, the medical field’s viewpoint was reasonable. Your choices are what landed you here.

“What the- what are you talking about?” He huffs, still seemingly in the dark. “You didn’t ask for this… this scare. It wasn’t your fault.” He tries to meet your eyes, but your gaze is fixed firmly to the linoleum floor.

A mirthless smile paints your lips. “But I chose this life. And these risks along with it.”

Before he can question you further, the door bursts open and Kim Namjoon enters the room, both his dress shirt and his hair are rumpled, and his eyes are frantic. “Sweetheart?” He rushes to your side and crushes you in a hug. “Are you alright?”

You hear Yoongi let out a breath of relief. “She’s okay, for the moment.”

Something about the way Namjoon holds you feels like a lamp being held against your cold skin. You’re too damp inside to light a flame yourself, but his own body warms you from the outside in the meantime. You want to let yourself enjoy it, but the memory of your unresolved questions leaves you limp in his arms, filled with nothing but misery and confusion.

He pulls back after a moment, checking you over for signs of injury. His eyes are wide with concern. “What happened? Tell me everything.”

A flare of shame rises up in you at the notion of telling Namjoon about your rule-breaking and everything that occured since this morning.

Thankfully, Yoongi seems to sense your hesitance, and he fills in most of the pieces for Namjoon. Namjoon’s expression remains stoic as Yoongi recounts what happened - you being brought home unconcious, seducing Yoongi - up until the mention of your orgasm. Namjoon’s jaw slackens slightly at this, and his eyes scan your face, searching for something.

It’s at this moment that the doctor walks in, a different nurse at his side. He’s a slightly older man, a few wrinkles creasing his brow, and a smile that appears kind until it lands on you. His face is then tinged with that same indifference that most medical professionals give you.

You wish it was your usual physician, but since this was an emergency, you didn’t have time to take the trip to your usual practice. Whatever hospital is nearest, that’s what Yoongi had told the driver.

The man turns to Namjoon, who arguably commands more presence than Yoongi, and the kindness returns. “Sorry for the delay. Busy night. From what I understand, your PhysCom has malfunctioned, is that correct?”

“Her Opticon malfunctioned, yes.” Namjoon corrects him. His diplomatic tendencies are a blessing right now. You just want to know if you’re pregnant or not. You want to know if you’re losing your job. You want to go home.

The doctor runs a few physical tests on you, feeling your breasts, peering down your throat, and examining your vaginal canal, checking for any other symptoms of malfunction from your Opticon. “All’s well so far.” He says, pulling his forefingers out of you, snapping off his gloves, and disposing of them. “May I take a look at the ComGear?”

You feel a flash of panic, waking you out of your stupor. Fuck, was it still in the group chat? You pull out the slim device, heart hammering as you check. Nope. Just settings. Thank god.

You hand it over, and then remember with a looming feeling of dread exactly why it might have been left on the settings page...

“You do so much for us, jagiya.” Taehyung keeps his hands braced on your arms, his thumb rubbing gently against your skin. “You’re always there for us. Always giving… Now it’s time for you to receive.”

“I’m sorry! It’s my fault-” Jimin’s eyes fall to your compromising position, Yoongi’s dick still out, your leaking core exposed, and claps a hand over his mouth. He looks like he might cry. “Oh no...”

The pieces fall into place, and there’s no doubt in your mind. They must have switched it off.

But why? Why, why, why…?

The doctor - you’re too frazzled to read his nametag - pulls out a pair of reading glasses and takes a look at your ComGear, poking around the device with his pointer finger. “Hm. Strange.” He squints. “The Opticon does appear to be switched off.”

Namjoon blinks. “That’s impossible.”

“I’m afraid that’s the case.” The doctor shows him the setting, the toggle very much in the off position. Namjoon takes the device and looks at it in shock.

The doctor coughs. “I know that, um… for some individuals, the temptation and the… risk associated with no protection during intercourse can be sexually arousing. It’s not the first time we’ve gotten a case like this.”

He removes his glasses, folding them back into his pocket. “However, I would remind you and anyone else who uses this one’s services that although Physical Companions may be virtually expendable, it can become quite expensive for your own sake to impregnate them on a whim, using and discarding them, what with the standard fees for breaching their contract and-”

“Thank you, Doctor.” Namjoon interrupts him, and you notice the iron grip he now has on Yoongi’s arm. Likely the only thing restraining him from throwing a punch. “We’ll be more careful.” Namjoon glances at you, confusion making a little crease between his brows. “Is there some sort of morning after pill she can take, or…?”

“I’m afraid the lingering effects of the Opticon implant render any outside hormone blockers ineffective.” The doctor says, his smile turning thin. “It’s a bit of a blessing and a curse. The hormone production and ovulation suppressant in the Opticon normally make the chance of fertilization zero percent while in use. After it’s switched off, chances are still fairly low at 30 percent, for up to 24 hours. But the chances of fertilization after taking a morning after pill are significantly lower than that, at only five percent.”

He shrugs. “We’ll just have to wait and see. Chances are, your PhysCom will be right as rain and ready to pleasure clients again in about a week.”

A week.

First a week of suspension on Namjoon’s terms… Now it’s on medical advisement.

“A week? What should we do until then?” Namjoon voices your very thoughts, Yoongi seething silently beside him.

“Well, we won’t have any results until three to five days from now.” The man clarifies. “But I highly recommend you leave the implant switched off and keep her on traditional contraceptives until we know for sure. I strongly recommend utilizing other PhysComs in the meantime, just to be safe.”

You’re finished.

The doctor hands Namjoon a paper bag, most likely containing birth control pills and condoms. “She may be somewhat volatile for the next few days. You can bring her in for another checkup in a week.”

You’re weak.

“Thank you.”

You’re numb.

-------

It was a silent car ride back to the house, and as Namjoon helps you step out of the vehicle, one hand holding yours for stability while the other rests on your lower back, you can’t help feeling utterly useless. Detached from your surroundings.

What’s the point of any of this now? There’s no way they’ll want to use you until this is resolved. You’re of no use to them as a sex toy until at least a week from now, and by then it’ll be far too late to earn their favor back.

“We need to have a meeting. Call the others into the living room.” Namjoon speaks to Yoongi in an undertone, and you feel a small ache of hope. Maybe things will work out if everyone just talks to each other.

But when you enter the house and Namjoon begins to steer you upstairs, you finally find your voice.

“No.” You resist against him, turning around at the base of the stairs. “No, I want to be part of the meeting.”

The surprise quickly fades from his face, instead turning to concern. “You need to rest."

Something about the look on his face, about being told yet again through his actions that this doesn’t concern you, it causes something inside you to snap, your apathy vanishing in the wake of this new beast beginning to rear its ugly head within you.

Your throat closes up and a scream erupts from your aching chest. "You don't know what I need!"

Namjoon matches your desperation with an infuriatingly patient look of sympathy. He approaches you, his hand outstretched, but you stagger back away from him. He smiles sadly and drops his hand. "Stay here. It's what's best for you."

What's best for you.

The words throb in your mind, like the memory of an old wound. They bounce listlessly off the walls of your grandiose prison long after Namjoon shuts the door, sealing you away again.

You don't know what comes over you as you see visions of launching yourself at the door, pounding and scratching at the wood like a wild animal.

You could just open the door and follow him downstairs. Some part of you does register that.

But you want them to hear you. You want them to hear you rip your throat raw as you exorcise your demons.

You blink and you're standing still.

You haven't moved.

Your spacious room feels stifling. Like the walls are closing in on you, suffocating you.

Silken ropes sway in the dusk, catching your eye from beyond the balcony window. Your escape route from earlier that day.

You don't think twice before stuffing a few meager belongings into the long forgotten backpack kicked beneath your bed.

You need to leave this place.

You can't stay here.

-------

It had started drizzling not long after you left the house, and even now as you sit on the damp curbside, waiting for the next bus to take you far away from this place, it strikes you as funny, in a way, that the weather is crying for you, since you can't muster any tears of your own.

It's cold and misty, a foreboding atmosphere, by all accounts. It makes you question if what you're about to do is the right call.

But you shut down the arguments in your head as quickly as they appear.

Second guessing was what had gotten you into this situation. You need to follow your instincts.

And your instincts are telling you to flee.

It won't be so bad, you try to convince yourself. After the first night on the road, you'll eventually find a new town, a new home, a new place for yourself in this fucked up world. You've done it before, you can do it again.

You're considering suitable aliases for your new persona, when you sense another person approaching, their shoes tramping through the wet grass.

You don't look up at them, hoping they'll pass by and leave you alone. But they come to a stop beside you.

You keep your gaze on the road, droplets rippling the puddled potholes.

Then the stranger goes to sit on the curb too, and you can't help but look at them.

You'd recognize those lips anywhere, even beneath a baggy hooded sweatshirt.

"It's a bit late to run errands, don't you think?" Seokjin says, pulling his sleeves down to keep out the chill as he perches beside you.

He glances at you, then looks ahead at the road, the same way you were. You return your gaze forward, too exhausted to make a run for it. Though you don't get the sense that he would chase after you, even if you tried to escape.

Maybe that's exactly why you decide to stay put, but you don't give the suspicion any more thought.

"What do you want?" You finally ask, your voice croaky from being silent for so long.

"Nothing."

"Liar," you mutter, hugging your knees to your chest. "Everyone wants something."

He chuckles. Rests back on his hands. "I guess you're right about that."

Damn right you are. You didn't study the human condition through your years of training to be fooled so easily by pretty words.

"So?" You prompt him, still staring at the dreary horizon.

He takes a moment to respond. The silence is punctuated by the distant noises of traffic, an occasional car passing by, its headlights shimmering in the mist before disappearing down the road.

“The others are all out looking for you, you know,” he says simply. “Why do you think that is?”

If it were anyone else that had run away - their manager, a friend - you know what the answer would be. Because they care about that person. But how can you believe that about yourself, when you know you can never amount to anyone with that level of importance to them?

Ironic, since you’re the person with which they can be most intimate and vulnerable.

“I’m a liability,” you reply halfheartedly.

His silence serves to confirm your suspicions. A runaway PhysCom? Far too risky for a group at their level. You could become one of those anonymous sources like you saw in the news. A firsthand account of the BTS members’ secret sexual urges. Unacceptable. Snatches of words from the NDA you signed buzz around the edges of your mind like stray flies.

But since you're no longer connected to your network, then your tracker is probably disconnected. If the bus had come just a little earlier, you might already have escaped without a trace.

“You really think that’s the only reason?” Seokjin’s voice pulls you back to the moment.

His abysmal attempt to divert from the problem gets a hollow laugh out of you.

“Any other reason has ulterior motives. It’s just business.” You check the time on your ComGear. The bus should be here any minute. “I’m leaving, and I won’t let you stop me.”

“I don’t intend to,” he agrees, to your surprise. “God knows you’ve been put through enough.” He then leans forward, resting his forearms across his legs. “But for what it’s worth, you deserve to know the truth.”

Your ears perk up at this.

Seokjin seems to take your silence as permission to continue. “The reason we decided to suspend you. It wasn’t… entirely selfless.”

You purse your lips in irritation and fix your gaze upon the horizon, settling your chin beneath your crossed arms. “Right. Ulterior motives, like I said.”

He clicks his tongue. “Touche.”

You wait for him to continue, but he doesn't.

Your curiosity gets the better of you.

“So, what… were you planning to replace me?” You ask, trying to sound contemptuous. “I heard you all having your little group meeting in the kitchen. There are plenty of shiny new whores at your disposal, take your pick.”

He still makes no noise.

You wait, preparing to accept a bitter confirmation of all your fears.

But then he finds his voice. “We could never replace you, dear.”

You stop. Look over at him. His eyes are half lidded, his smile bittersweet as he stares off into the distance. After a few moments, he fishes around in his pocket and pulls something out, then hands it to you.

His smartphone.

“Here,” he murmurs, sympathy in the quirk of his lips. “In case you need to call anyone. Those devices they give you don’t have a cell plan, I assume.”

He seems to sense your wariness, and waves the phone a bit in a gesture of insistence. “I can buy a dozen new ones. It’s no trouble.”

You very hesitantly take it. “Thanks.”

Of course, he has no way to know that your ComGear is now jailbroken, for all intents and purposes. But… is this a trap? What if there’s a tracker in the phone? But why would he need to put a tracker in it if he doesn’t know your ComGear is off the grid?

The rumble of an approaching motor pulls you out of your cyclical thoughts, and you get on your feet, slowly coming out of your dissociative sulk.

But you still feel numb. Nothing matters anymore.

Nothing at all.

Jin gets up along with you, slipping his hands into his hoodie pocket. “Stay safe, alright?”

You give a brief nod of acknowledgment, only half in his direction as you shrug your bag onto your shoulder more securely. The hydraulics of the bus screech as the vehicle comes to a stop and lowers slightly, allowing you to step onboard.

You glance back, fully expecting Jin to stop you. But he doesn’t. He blinks raindrops out of his eyes while you board, and gives you a small smile once the doors close behind you. He lifts a hand in farewell, then turns and starts to walk away down the street.

He’s really letting you go.

You pay your fare and find a seat towards the back of the nearly empty bus. Rain pelts at the windows, picking up in earnest, and it feels like yet another layer, another barrier, separating yourself and creating an ever-growing chasm from the life you knew up until yesterday.

You pull out Jin’s phone, staring at the dark screen and wiping away stray raindrops from the surface with your sleeve. Why had he come to find you, if not to stop you?

“But for what it’s worth, you deserve to know the truth.”

Maybe he felt guilty. Or remorseful for the hell you’ve been put through recently. You would normally have felt immense satisfaction at such a thought.

But you can’t feel much of anything right now.

You don’t think you’ll be able to feel properly again. At least not for a long, long time…

Hm? The screen lit up. You must have pressed a button by accident. You swipe at it again, and to your surprise it unlocks. Who doesn’t put a passcode on their phone?

Is it possible… he disabled it before he gave it to you? Maybe. Whatever. You’re so tired of thinking, playing investigator and second guessing people’s motivations.

You scroll over to the phone icon, and tap on it, briefly considering calling your parents. But the wetness on your fingers messes with the touchscreen and you open the messages app instead.

You’re about to wipe the screen and try again, but… the most recent messages are… all about you. You tap on the group chat among the seven of them, currently bustling with activity.

[ Kim Namjoon ]: has anyone found her [ Park Jimin ]: hyung I’m so sorry [ Park Jimin ]: it’s all my fault [ Min Yoongi ]: she’s not at the studio [ Kim Namjoon ]: we’ll talk about it later Jimin [ Kim Namjoon ]: everyone keep looking [Jeon Jungkook]: manager said they can call her network to track her down [Kim Taehyung ]: should we do that? [ Jung Hoseok ]: no! she could get in trouble :( [ Min Yoongi ]: she’s not a stray pet [ Kim Namjoon ]: exactly [ Kim Namjoon ]: we need to keep this quiet for her sake [Kim Taehyung ]: she hasn’t replied to my texts or calls [ Min Yoongi ]: me neither [Jeon Jungkook]: hyung... will she be okay? [ Kim Namjoon ]: everything will be fine don’t worry [ Kim Namjoon ]: we’re going to fix this somehow [ Min Yoongi ]: whatever it takes [ Jung Hoseok ]: where could she have gone... [ Park Jimin ]: what if she doesn’t come back?

You scroll further up, past days and weeks and months of texts between them… not even a day between mentions of you. Wondering if you’re alright. Hoping you’ve eaten enough. Wanting to do more with you.

The thread of texts Jimin sent to Seokjin just yesterday.

Hyung I wish things were different I want to hold her I want to tell her she’s enough I wish I could kiss her… I think I love her Do you ever feel that way?

And Seokjin’s reply.

I do I know just what you mean Why do you think I turned those secondaries away last night, hm? No one can compare She really is special…

He didn’t… fuck the secondaries? After you broke at dinner, he… didn’t...?

You switch to his thread with Namjoon from a few days ago.

I know you’re our leader but I don’t think this is the way to go You need to be more cautious

Namjoon’s reply.

What we need is action, hyung If we work together on this, we could get rid of these unnecessary rules We could all have what we want Including her It’s what’s best for everyone

Seokjin took several minutes to reply.

You’re going to lose her.

Jin knew. He tried to talk Namjoon out of writing that stupid essay, or maybe it was about your suspension.

Either way, he defended you.

You open his thread with Hoseok. Dimly, you recognize that you shouldn’t be snooping, but you’re too absorbed to stop.

Hyung, I think she really wants this All of us ♡ I don’t know how, but we need to show her that it’s okay That we want it just as much

How do you know that’s what she wants?

I can’t say ♡ But I know now She wouldn’t reject us Our feelings She feels something too

The date and time lines up with this morning. The morning after he made love to you.

He didn’t tell them. He kept your secret.

“Our feelings”? What does he mean? Him, Jimin, Taehyung… Seokjin? Do they all…?

Your head spins, the hollowness of your heart filling with a rush of jumbled emotions, like a tide crashing in. All your numbness is washed out with light, just a pinprick at first, that grows rapidly into a ray of warmth as you consider what all this could mean. The chasm starts to narrow, and you get the urge to jump ship, to turn back and figure this shit out. To know once and for all what they want from you. What you mean to them.

But how can you trust this isn’t a trap? How can you be sure?

The answer is as simple as they come.

You can’t.

You can’t be absolutely certain that their intentions are pure… that this is the right thing to do… that you won’t be hurt again.

But maybe... trust isn’t about being infallible. Being right. Being sure.

Maybe it’s built on what ifs. On trying again, even with no guarantees.

Guarantees are only as good as their word, and talk is cheap. Lies are easy. Your Opticon had a 100% guarantee, and look where that got you.

But you remember the way Hoseok held you that night, and made love to you like you’ve never felt in your life... When Jimin kissed his way down your body, with only the best of intentions. Namjoon’s strong arms embracing you when you felt powerless. Yoongi’s hand never leaving yours, even while you waited in the hospital. Jungkook carrying you home after you fainted, breaking your door to make sure you were safe in bed. The look in Taehyung’s eyes when he finally kissed you, breaking the ice you’d been growing around your heart.

How Seokjin let you go.

Maybe...

You get up with a start, rush to the front of the bus, and hastily ask the driver to let you off, much to the old man’s disgruntlement, but the moment the doors whoosh open, you take off at a run.

You want to go home.

You want to try again.

No matter how much you try to bury it, to forget the way they make you feel, you care about them. All of them. On a much deeper level than that of a PhysCom and client. And it scares you.

But you’re done running from fear. From uncertainty.

Now you’re running towards it willingly, as you give chase down the torrential streets, searching for that familiar hooded figure and hoping you’re not too late. You’re embracing the doubt, the fear, the uncertainty, the paranoia... letting their shadowy claws sink into you until they can’t hurt you anymore. Until they fade away, cowering under the glow of your determination.

You’re setting some new rules for yourself, no longer letting fear control your thoughts and actions, barring you from any chance of happiness.

You see Seokjin in the distance, trudging home through the pouring rain. You run faster.

You’re fucking terrified. But you’ve never felt so free in your life.

“Jin!” You shout to get his attention, still a block away. He turns around, and shakes his head, seemingly confused, but a smile starts to appear. You smile too.

Finally, you catch up to him, and without warning, you throw your arms around his shoulders. Damn, he’s always taller than you remember.

He laughs, shocked by your change of heart. “What are you doing?”

“I want to hear you say it.” You reply, looking up at him as rain dashes down your face. You don’t know when you started crying, but you’re grateful to the weather for masking your tears.

“Say what?” He asks, his hands resting on your waist to support you. Thunder rumbles in the distance, rain sliding down his perfect face.

“How you feel about me.” You reply, studying his eyes. “Be honest.”

He seems to sense the gravity in your words. He holds you closer. His eyes soften.

“I think I’ve fallen in love with you.”

For the first time since all of this started, you sense no deception in his words, no double meaning, no hidden agenda.

Because you aren’t searching for reasons to doubt this time.

You’re searching for reasons to trust, and you find them.

You want to kiss him. So you do.

[wolf-and-bard]

So, I wrote a Lambert x Aiden thing because of a conversation I had with @littoraly-art, so here we go. It’s hurt/comfort, but very much on the angsty side.

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: explicit language, (brief) mentions of self-harming behaviour

You can also read it on AO3 if you want to

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The hunt didn’t go according to plan. Lambert underestimated the amount of ghouls that would crawl out of that shithole and fought them well into the night, dodging and striking, dodging and striking for hours on end. They chased him through the forest and branches whipped at him. More than once, did he narrowly escape their bites and when they were dealt with and he stumbled back to light a bomb in the nest, he wasn’t fast enough on the retreat. His ears still ring and white spots dance at the margins of his vision. Lambert only notices that he’s overdosed on Thunderbolt when he’s already back at the inn he booked for the night, two ales down, and his muscles are still taut, ready to strike, while his sense of self-preservation has plummeted. Fuck. His fingers shake as he gestures for another drink. Sweat gathers at his collar, at the small of his back. He wants to sleep and rest, but he won’t be able to, not with the residue adrenaline.

“Lambert?” someone says and Lambert hunches his shoulders. Maybe if he hides his face, he won’t be recognized. But Aiden’s already emerged from the crowd and, anyway, he would have smelled Lambert the moment he set foot into the building.

“It is you!” Aiden saunters over, all neat bun and scandalously tight gear, his brown hair looking almost black in the downcast light of the inn. His smile is brilliant as he takes the chair opposite Lambert. Takes Lambert’s hands and inspects them for wounds before bringing them to his lips. “Hey, there, pup,” he murmurs against Lambert’s knuckles. Lambert’s heart does skip a beat, but with that comes a flare of anger. Aiden doesn’t get to be lovey and cheerful when Lambert wants to crawl out of his own skin. He hums something indiscernible.

“What is it? Talk to me.”

“Nothing.”

“Oh, really? Alright, if that’s how you want to play it,” Aiden says mockingly, letting Lambert’s hands go. “What? Oh, yes, it is good to see me, isn’t it? How I am? I’m so glad you asked. I managed to haggle a big fat fee on a rock troll couple that were mating up in the mountains and causing avalanches and now I’m drowning in coin. Pretty crazy, right? If I made it okay? Aww, sweetie, there’s no need to worry. Haven’t got a scratch on me. You wanna hear more about it? No, of course it isn’t too much to ask, I will happily oblige.” 

"Just... leave me alone," Lambert cuts in, and lifts his tankard to veil his face. He's good at hiding his emotion, but in the face of whatever this is and with the day he's had... well, his boundaries are more than probed.

“What? So, you can give yourself a sorry hand-job and cry yourself to sleep? No, sir, that would be incredibly pathetic and a crime against humanity.” Aiden smiles and before Lambert can keep drinking, he’s snatched the tankard away and emptied it himself. Great. Now there isn’t even that to hide behind. Lambert likes Aiden, he really does. On most occasions, he’s so overjoyed to see him that he doesn’t recognize himself. Aiden makes him feel… too many things to think about right now. Today though, Lambert’d rather be alone.

“None of your business.”

"Fine, have it your way" Aiden says with a good-natured shrug and, humming, stands. He makes a beeline for the nearest table full of average-to-handsome soldiers with the Temerian blazon on their chests, and slams a hand down on the table. His hips are cocked out, his smile sly, exposing overly sharp canines. They all look up at him with varying degrees of surprise, realisation. “Any of you boys down to fuck a mutant?” Lambert's blood runs cold, he’s had enough of this. He hurls his empty tankard across the room, angling just so he doesn't hit anyone - though no guarantee on the rebound – and leaves.

His armour, clothes and swords are scattered across the small room he rented by the time he makes it into bed, wearing only thin cotton smallclothes. He sits not two minutes, contemplating whether to go asleep or order himself more alcohol to dull the edge of his frustration even further, when Aiden comes into the room, no knock, no courtesy.

“Aren’t you off sucking flaccid cock? Or are you already done the whole lot of them?” Lambert spits, and crosses his arms over his bare chest. Aiden’s eyes darken and he shuts the door behind himself, forceful enough that it rattles, then slips out of his own armour and boots without much ceremony. “Go get your own room, asshole.”

“You know what? Go fuck yourself,” Aiden replies in a measured manner. All his earlier aloofness is gone, replaced by a gravity Lambert has a hard time looking at. Aiden sorts both their stuff into neat piles, then takes Lambert’s swords to the corner chair. Lambert stares at his own knees, but he can hear every tiny movement of Aiden’s hands as he cleans Lambert’s swords, inspects them for chips, pulls out a whetstone to restore their edge. The amount of care this alone conveys almost brings tears to Lambert’s eyes. Aiden could be deep-throating handsome soldiers right now, but instead he’s here, doing for Lambert what he doesn’t have the energy left to do for himself.

When he’s done the swords, Aiden does the same to his own pair, then examines the two sets of armour plating for tears or gashes that need mending. He lines up both chests of potions and counts out what’s missing, takes notes for ingredients. It’s a normal routine, only that usually, each witcher does it for himself. Lambert feels a mixture of embarrassment and affection heat his cheeks, but he doesn’t look up, not yet. Only when Aiden finishes with a soft exhale and wanders over to the bed which dips under his weight, does Lambert uncross his arms. Dares to take a peek. Fuck. He shouldn’t have. Aiden’s pupils are wide in the starlight that falls through the single window, the moon painting him in blues and silvers. Some of his hair has escaped his bun and his lips part on a sigh that expose his teeth. He’s a fucking vision, too gorgeous to be sitting here.

For once, there is quiet, so rare with the two of them. If Lambert lets go of consciousness a little more, it almost feels like a dream. If it were, he would reach out, draw Aiden onto his lap, lose himself in the familiar glide of their bodies against one another. As it is, the silence hangs by a thread and Lambert cuts it, edges fraying into dust between them.

���What,” he barks and Aiden sighs again.

“The only cock I want to suck is yours, idiot. Flaccid or not.

“Is that so?”

“Yes? I thought I had made that abundantly clear.” Aiden has. There have probably been more blowjobs than nights they shared a bed, altogether. And maybe that’s the problem. Aiden might not seem it now, but one day Lambert’s cock will not be enough to make up for his mouth.

"Why were you so obnoxious then?" he asks.

"Because you need to learn not to push me away, Lamb. I'm here, I understand, I'm yours." Three quick sentences that puncture Lambert like barbed arrows. I'm here feels like sparks of an off-kilter Igni that eat at his fingertips. I understand goes right to his gut and makes him feel like he is out on the rocky sea, in a rickety boat all by himself, at the storm's mercy. I'm yours is the lightning that strikes then and short-circuits his nervous system into small spams. He takes a deep breath and the soft kiss Aiden places on the corner of his mouth when he leans over helps quell the panic. "I can't change how I am," he says. Prickly, loud-mouthed, mean.

"You really aren't... no, that's not gonna work, is it? C’mere." Aiden crawls over the bed and settles next to Lambert, draws him against him, his strong arms wrapped firmly around Lambert's bare chest. Lambert's head is throbbing lightly, heartrate kept accelerated from the alcohol, but he deflates a little. Notices the small vial with almost clear liquid Aiden is holding between his index and middle finger. “You didn’t drink it, did you?”

Lambert shrugs. So, maybe he forgot to take the White Honey, fucked-up as he was. So, maybe he didn’t want to take it, stay fucked-up a little longer. He has days like this, where the lingering toxicity of the potions stokes some dark flame deep inside of him, kindled by his hatred for what he is, what he has become. Lambert isn’t prone to self-harm, but this, well. This he is prone to and Aiden is seeing right through him. Fucking cat, fucking.... is this love yet?

“I didn’t.”

“So, do it now.” Aiden uncorks the bottle with one hand and his grip on Lambert tightens so that he would have to struggle to escape it. For a moment, Lambert thinks about refusing. He wants to wallow, dammit, he wants to pity himself and maybe have Aiden pity him too. “Don’t think about it, pup. You can bullshit your way around other people, but not around me,” Aiden continues and holds the vial to Lambert’s lips. Lambert snatches it away and empties it in two long drags. Immediately, his vision sharpens and his lungs clear. His muscles stop trembling and his heartrate settles into its normal, mutated rhythm. “Better?”

“Better,” Lambert agrees sulkily. He tosses the vial aside and sinks back against Aiden.

“You’re really stupid sometimes, you know that?” Aiden says with a sharp edge to his voice, but he noses at Lambert’s ear, under it, breath hot over the skin of Lambert’s throat.

“You’re the one that’s stupid…” Stupid for caring for me. Stupid for still being here.

“Will you stop it already? I’m trying so hard to be patient and you keep pushing me away. Did you forget who I am? What we share?”

“I didn’t,” Lambert says. He is weak and tired. He lets Aiden tug at his chin and half-turn him for a kiss that lingers even after their lips part for breath.

“Then drop the farce. Fuck, I don’t know what to say to you,” Aiden whispers against his mouth, chasing each word with a kiss to Lambert’s lips, the corners of his mouth, his nose. “I love you, Lambert, I love you so fucking much, but I can’t keep prying you out of your shell. Don’t you trust me?”

I want to love you too, Lambert thinks.

With my life, Lambert thinks.

You’re the best person I’ve ever met, Lambert thinks.

But he isn’t ready for that yet and so he settles for the next best thing: “I’m sorry.” The rest of it he pours into their next kiss, one that feels frozen in time for how slow and indulgent it is, the world reduced to the drag of their lips and the scratch of Aiden’s canines, the stuttering of his breath. Lambert wriggles around until he straddles Aiden’s lap with his thighs and frames Aiden’s tanned face with his scarred, pale fingers. Even paler next to his lover. Aiden fucking glows and Lambert is less a man, more a phantom next to him.

“Fuck, puppy, you’re so beautiful, do you know that?” Aiden gasps when they part once more. His hands are splayed over Lambert’s upper back and they are both half-hard against one another, but Lambert doesn’t feel like sex. He feels like curling up and having a good cry. He feels like kissing Aiden again, and so he does.

“And here I am, trying so hard to hide it so you peasants don’t feel bad about yourselves,” Lambert says, on instinct more than anything else. He wants to slap himself, this is exactly what Aiden meant, isn’t it? But Aiden laughs, the fucker, a clear sound that sets loose something fluttery inside of Lambert. Shit. It is love. “I thought the scar would have done the job.”

“Joke’s on you, I adore the scar.” Aiden presses his lips to the bottom of it and drags them along, skipping Lambert’s eye in favour of nuzzling his forehead. It’s ridiculous. It tickles. Lambert laughs and hides his face in Aiden’s neck. Aiden sighs and his hands wander up to Lambert’s head, cradling it. “Promise me something, pup?”

Anything, Lambert thinks. He grunts.

“Allow yourself this. I don’t need you to fall onto your knees and profess your love in some grand gesture, but… don’t shut me out. Okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Thank you.”

Lambert falls asleep like that, tucked against Aiden’s chest and he wakes in the morning facing the sunrise with an arm slung around his bare torso and Aiden’s nose pressed against the nape of his neck. He allows it to last.

[juletheghoul]

Mysticus Chapter 6

Ezra x F!Reader Soulmates AU

Pairing: Ezra x F!Reader

Word Count: 1.5K

Warnings: None - Fluff

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Masterlist

If you thought he was touchy before, you were sorely mistaken. It was as though you were tethered together, some invisible string connecting you to one another. His hand always found yours and your body always seemed to carry you right to him.

He would absentmindedly draw little circles in your palm as he drove, and reached over to play with the hair at the base of your neck while you drove. He seemed to do it without even realizing and you found yourself doing the same. Your hand always drifted to his knee, always itching to touch his hair, absentmindedly fingering the little blonde patch. He always leaned into it; you had the sense that both of you had gone without human contact for a long time and were trying desperately to make up for lost time.

After that night -and next day- in the motel, you never slept apart. If either of you left the bed, the other woke up soon after. You vaguely wondered how the hell you had ever slept without him.

-

“We’re running low on funds, we should stop at the next town and figure something out.” You spoke as you counted through your pooled money. He kept his eyes on the road as read the highway signs, switching lanes to make sure he’d be able to take the next exit.

“Understood Birdie, I suspect we will do well here.” He spoke so confidently - he was good at charming people into hiring him for quick jobs. Manual labour, setting up events, he was a jack of all trades and didn’t ask any questions. Sometimes if he was sure the job was safe and easy he would manage to get you both hired. Whether it be for a few hours or a few days. Unless there was a fair or carnival in town, then you could do your palm readings.

On your way into town you noticed some signs advertising a drive-in and it sent a shiver down your spine. That was another place that made your skin crawl. Being inside the car and watching the movie was okay, it was everything else that gave you the creeps. There was a sense that nothing ever changed, a creeping nostalgia.

“Birdie, would you do me the great honour of accompanying me to the drive in? I’d very much enjoy taking my girls out on a real date.” The dog lifted her head sensing he was speaking about her, she sniffed his ear and settled back in the backseat.

His smile faltered slightly upon seeing the look of wild panic on your face.

“Don’t laugh, but the drive in kind of freaks me out.” You admitted almost shyly. He smiled at you but it wasn’t malicious, he grabbed your hand as he pulled into the nearest motel and pressed soft kisses to your knuckles.

“I would never laugh at you Birdie, if you are decidedly opposed then I will of course find somewhere else to woo you as you deserve. However, I’m sure I can find a way to give you a positively lovely experience.” He gave you the secret smile as he playfully nipped at your fingers. You shuddered as you tried to imagine what he was imagining and agreed. Who were you kidding? You would have agreed to anything he said in order to have him looking at you like that.

“Okay, fine.” You couldn’t help but smile at him.

“Splendid. I’ll get us checked in while you make sure our girl here attends to her business.” He patted the dog warmly as he made his way over to the front desk. Within 20 minutes you were getting settled into your meagre accommodations, the dog sniffing around the room like she usually did. Satisfied the room was up to her standards she plopped down in the floor with a huff. Ezra then clapped his hands together excitedly turning to you and giving you a devastating smile.

“Alright Birdie, I inquired at the front desk and the first showing just started, I am partial to the late show myself and with your consent we’ll leave here in an hour. Now, if you’ll be so kind, I would humbly implore you to wear that lovely sundress I adore so much.”

* * * * *

You were torn as you pulled in, Ezra’s hand on your thigh was reassuring - a grounding force that communicated pure safety. You were safe when you were with him - no doubt about that - your mind however didn’t care. The drive-in was creepy and you couldn’t help but feel it. Like always - he sensed it.

“Birdie, would you like to leave? You are not obligated to be here if you are truly frightened. I am content with your company and your company alone. Everything else is immaterial.” He was looking at you intensely - wanting your complete honesty.

“I’m a little nervous - but I’ll be okay once the movie starts.” You leaned into him unconsciously - his touch made you feel better.

“If at any point you find you’ve reached your limit - simply say the word and we will depart.” He winked as he found a good spot for you to park. Knowing that you could leave at any moment made it marginally better, you could focus on having a good time.

He pulled a bag of goodies out from the back and handed them to you with a smile on his face, all of your favourites.

All in all it was actually fun, the two of you talking throughout the film, making bets on how it would turn out. You both leaned into one another over the little console, always connected in one way or another.

You watching him during one of your quiet moments, you knew you loved him - that was obvious, but there was something more. Something massive prickling at your brain, something that itched in your hand whenever you touched him. He gave you the secret smile when he caught you looking at him and the prickling grew more intense. Everything had to do with that smile - you knew it. There was something bigger that for one reason or another you refused to confront. What were you afraid of?

“Why do you smile at me like that?” You asked it playfully, in low tones and his grin widened. He knew - he always knew.

“I have no idea what you’re referring to Birdie.” He kissed your palm and you narrowed your eyes at him - he was teasing you.

“Yes you do - it’s like you know something that I don’t.” You were skirting around it now, getting perilously closer, were you really ready for this? He sensed your sudden panic and the smile faltered.

“What scares you so? Is it me?” His hand held yours and he drew those little circles into your palm, you had to be honest.

“No - never you.” you saw him let go of a deep breath then - “I don’t know - I get the feeling you know something and you’re not telling me. Am I crazy?” You looked into his eyes, trying hard to see if you could glean any insight into your suspicions.

“I am convinced you know more than you think, you may not be ready to face it though.” He drew your attention to your palm. To the mark you shared and you stared at them, you felt him willing you to see what he saw. “When I was a boy, my grandmother told me stories to calm me. I was a hellion, always moving. She was somewhat of a romantic, she would say this mark on my palm was special. That if I was lucky enough to find it’s twin on another person, that it would mean something.” he didn’t look up at you. This was it. This was what you’d been skirting around. You already knew you loved him, that he was essential to you, that you were glad you’d found each other but thinking it was preordained or destiny was almost inconceivable to you.

“What did you say when she told you?” You were imagining him as a little boy, the shock of blonde and those wild eyes. It made you a little sad to not have been a part of his life back then.

“I was disgusted!” He laughed then, and you couldn’t help but smile at the image. His little arms crossed stomping away as his grandmother laughed. “I told her she was crazy and that I was too wild, that I did not desire anyone. She laughed at me and informed me - quite correctly - that my mind would change as I got older.”

“Have you? Do you still think she was crazy?” you knew the answer, you knew then finally, what was so infuriatingly obvious. The smile dropped from his face completely, being replaced with a fierce intensity, his eyes almost burning into you.

“I have Birdie, she knew even then, what I know now.” He seemed to be guiding you - the hope that you would finally understand shining at you in the darkness of the car. The movie, long forgotten, the dog sleeping in the backseat.

“Us.. You and I…” You trailed off as the smile returned, only this time you were in on the secret.

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[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Another One?!, Part 5

First > Previous > Next

It turns out that people with access to military-grade equipment are not the type of people you want to dislike you.

Really, the only reason she was still alive was because being Ladybug made her marginally more lucky than the average person.

From people in holding randomly getting out from time to time and somehow managing to get their hands on a weapon, to getting shot by ‘malfunctioning’ firearms, to constant bomb threats, to the one time someone actually tried to drop an anvil on her head, things were just not looking good for Marinette.

And, it turns out, being a boss is just a hard thing in general. When they weren’t attempting to kill her, they were coming to her with questions. She spent most of her day in the office, scanning through manual after manual. She got basically zero breaks, because even when she had a sign on her door saying she was eating lunch they still came in to ask her things.

And then, at the end of the day, she’d get home… things weren’t great there, either.

Barbara had moved in after a year of dating Dick (Marinette had been stunned to learn that their relationship was actually real but that had quickly been dropped when she realized that Barbara was actually a responsible adult that could take care of herself). She had banned caffeine in the house when she’d seen Marinette and Tim’s coffee habits and, unfortunately, everyone else had been perfectly happy to enforce this for her.

This meant that she only had about four hours when she got home to patrol before her exhaustion caught up with her and she’d be forced to go home and collapse on the couch.

On top of that, tensions in the house were high. It turns out that one of the biggest problems with avoiding your problems for years is that emotions get pent up inside and it gets harder and harder to ignore. No one had completely snapped yet, but even the densest person in the world would have been able to recognize that it was coming.

It didn’t help that she no longer had time for baking, which was her normal way of relieving stress…

And let’s just say they were lucky none of them were going on patrols together, those kinds of high-stress situations do not help.

~

Adrien needed sleep.

He worked ten hours a day, which isn’t that much longer than average but was still emotionally taxing considering his job was teaching.

Then, he’d go on patrol for a few hours. He liked patrol, beating up random people is great for stress, but it was physically exhausting.

Then, he’d come home.

And he’d have two kids and an adult to keep alive.

(Barbara had the night shift, which meant that Adrien was alone for this. He swore it was on purpose.)

He’d go to his room and find Dick swinging around on the indoor gym they’d had installed (they were getting tired of him breaking light fixtures and had given in and put little hand and footholds on the ceiling for him to climb around on).

And then Dick would fall asleep, often hanging from the ceiling still, and Adrien would pick him up and take him to his room and tuck him in.

He’d rush back to his room, desperate to get there for just a second of sleep, only to find that, no matter how quick he was, Jason would already be on the bed. You would think that Adrien would be able to sleep. After all, Jason would be reading a book... that’s supposed to be a quiet thing…

Well, you see, the problem is that Jason reads books like people watch soap operas. He’d curse out characters and call them stupid, tell Adrien contextless jokes, and occasionally close his book to vent about what was going on.

And, eventually Jason would sleep. Adrien wouldn’t move him because a) it would wake him up and b) on the very small chance it didn’t wake him, Jason sometimes half-joked that when he woke up alone he feared that they’d left him behind…

So, yeah, Jason got to stay in the room.

Adrien would blink and then he’d find Tim in the door with his computer.

Tim, it seemed, would actually wait to see if Adrien was okay with it if he came in. He always stood in the door, hugging his laptop to his chest, and wouldn’t dare come inside until Adrien said he could.

Of course Adrien would sigh and nod his head yes, making a joke about how his kids were sleeping in shifts to annoy him, and move over on the bed a bit to let Tim on.

And then Tim would do homework or play games on his computer.

Adrien hated the sound of clicky keyboards. He’d had no clue he was alone in this until one day he complained about it and everyone in the room had stared at him like he was crazy.

But, yeah, the keyboard made him want to die. He just wanted to sleep...

And then Barbara would poke her head in after a long night’s work to tell Adrien that it was time for him to get ready for work.

Sprinkle in one or two probably life-threatening accidents and you’d have a typical night for him.

Now, you might be thinking, why doesn’t he just fall asleep on the couch?

Beyond the fact that the kids would just… follow him there, Adrien was also a rich kid growing up. He couldn’t sleep on couches. They’re uncomfortable.

No, now his only saving grace was the fact that Barbara didn’t have a way to monitor the coffee machine at his work.

… Oh kwami, he had become what he’d hated.

~

She dropped onto the bed -- she’d had enough energy to make it all the way there for once -- and glared at the mostly empty bulletin board on Antony Agoura. The man was smart, unfortunately, opting to keep his identity a secret as much as possible. He used a fake name. He wore gloves no matter what. He used solely cash…

And it wasn’t like she was going to be able to lure him out again. That had been an intimidation tactic, a way of saying ‘leave it alone or you’ll see exactly what I can do’.

And, as much as she hated to admit it even to herself, she was a little bit scared of him. For the first time since Zucco, the person she was facing knew who she was as a civilian, and she hated that she’d lost that advantage. Even if her family was better trained in self-defense than most, they weren’t invulnerable and they couldn’t be careful every second of the day.

Part of her was tempted to pack up and go on the run like they had done with Zucco… but the situations were different. With Zucco they knew they would eventually be able to catch him but with Agoura...

She closed her eyes, unable to look at it any longer.

Fuck. She was really screwed this time, huh?

She felt someone sink into the bed next to her and reached out for them. She didn’t really care who it was as she buried her face in their shoulder.

Sleep…

Less than a minute later, her phone buzzed to tell her that it was time to start cooking everyone’s meals for the day and she mumbled a curse before peeling herself away from the person. She squinted a little bit in the dark to see who it was. Tim.

She yawned and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Want to cook with me?”

“I’d burn the house down.”

“Probably. Want to stand nearby and make sure I don’t fall asleep while cooking so nothing burns?”

He shrugged a little bit. “Don’t see why not.”

They both crawled out of bed and she used him for support as they made their way down to the kitchen.

~

Adrien had been on patrol when she’d appeared.

And ‘appeared’ was definitely the way to describe it. He’d been relaxing on a rooftop, giving himself a few second break to just breathe in silence for once… and then he’d felt a hand shaking his shoulder.

He fought the urge to jump or lash out, his head whipping around to look at the person who was shaking him.

It was… a girl?

Actually, she looked about Jason’s age, so maybe a woman?

It didn’t matter. She looked terrified. Her eyes were so wide it looked almost exaggerated, her lips drawn into a deep frown.

The more he took in about her appearance the more concerned he was. Her stance was wide, which likely meant she fought often. Her clothes were ratty and torn. The little parts of her skin that weren’t caked in dirt were split with cuts that were either infected or about to be infected.

He rested a hand over hers as gently as he could and looked at her. “How are you up here? Actually, that doesn’t matter. What’s wrong? Are you okay? Are you hurt? Is your family hurt?”

She waved her free hand around frantically. Wordlessly.

He raised his eyebrows.

“Do you not speak English? Or are you mute? Deaf?”

He realized all these questions weren’t going to get answers and he sighed. Crap, what could he do?

He mulled it over for a second before snapping his fingers. He held up a finger for one minute, then held up his hands and made a tiny ‘stay’ motion with them just in case, and then ran to the nearest convenience store.

He didn’t care enough to detransform. It got him through the line quickly, at least.

He found a pen and a pad of paper and returned to the rooftop…

She wasn’t there anymore.

He sighed, a mix of frustration and concern coursing through him. He closed his eyes and shook his head. He should get back to patrol. Maybe he’d find her and/or whatever situation she was trying to get his attention for…

He opened his eyes and actually did jump this time. She was right in front of him. What? He hadn’t heard her…

He shook off his growing unease and handed her the notepad and pen.

She frowned, her face a little more than confused. Had she never seen a pen and paper before? Surely that couldn’t be right…

Still, he gently took the paper and pen back and wrote a tiny question mark.

He handed it over again and she looked at the mark like she’d never seen it before. Maybe her language didn’t have question marks…?

Then she started doodling.

Well, his plan had been for her to write whatever it was down and he would see if his phone would translate it, but he guessed this would work, too.

The first drawing explained some of the girl’s problems with communication. It was a little doodle where the mouth and ears had been X-ed out. She couldn’t speak or hear… or, at least, that’s what he’d figured.

He searched his memory for his old sign language lessons. Unfortunately, though, sign language is something that has to be practiced. All he could do is fingerspell “U O-K?”

She didn’t seem to understand.

Fair enough. He was pretty sure he was using LSF, anyways, and he didn’t exactly know for sure how close that was to ASL… or whatever other language she could have known. He couldn’t really tell much about where she was from, her skin was covered in dirt, okay?

She started doodling the rest of her life story and he nearly punched something. Probably would have if he hadn’t been scared he’d startle her or scare her off.

Whoever her dad was, he was committed to killing him if he wasn’t dead already.

He smiled at her and tried to think of a solution. He couldn’t take her to the police. Even with Marinette in charge, there was only so much she could do to keep the kid safe. An orphanage wouldn’t accept her because he doubted she was a legal US citizen.

He sighed. Marinette was going to kill him…

He reached out a hand to her to tell her to follow and blinked in surprise when she actually took it. Wow. He trusted her.

He tried not to feel proud as he led her home. He probably should have been scared that she was a spy or lying, but he found himself trusting her…

Weird, but he had bigger problems.

He detransformed a little bit outside the house and slowly walked to the door. He pushed it open and cringed when it creaked. Please don’t be home…

Marinette shifted under her blanket and opened an eye to look at him.

He quickly pushed the girl behind himself and smiled at his wife. “Wow, it’s you. You’re home. Wow.”

“Yeah, amazing, right?” She rubbed her eyes and gave him a tired smile. “How was patrols?”

“Great. Uneventful. Definitely good.”

Her smile dropped into a frown. “You’re acting weird.”

“What? Me? Acting weird?”

“Yeah… are you coming inside?”

“Uh… no. Actually, I think I’ll go back on patrols.”

She clicked her tongue. “You’re hiding something. I’m too tired for this, Adrien. Fess up.”

He cringed a little bit and slowly led the new adoptee inside.

The girl clutched Adrien’s shirt sleeve anxiously. He did not think this was a good thing.

Marinette stared at the girl in front of her for a while before a way too wide smile crossed her face. “Adrien…” She began slowly, before shaking her head. Her smile widened, somehow. She looked up, her voice sickly sweet: “Hey! Sweeties! Come down here.”

The reaction was instantaneous. There was a mad scrambling noise and they appeared in the doorway, expressions frazzled.

“Whatever happened, it was Dick!” Said Tim before anyone could speak.

Dick gasped. “No! It wasn’t!”

Marinette gave a pleasant laugh. “You’re not in trouble. Boys, could you help her get cleaned up for me, please?”

“Why is there another kid? Why does he have another one?” Said Jason incredulously.

When neither parent answered, they started ushering the girl away.

She grabbed Adrien’s arm when he tried to disappear through the door with them. “Not. You. Transform, we’re going out.”

He tried not to look too scared as they both transformed. She kept a way too tight grip on Adrien as they made their way through the town, as if she thought he was going to suddenly run away.

Fair enough. He was absolutely considering it.

But he didn’t. That would only make things worse.

They stopped at a relatively abandoned part of town and she turned to him, letting go to cross her arms over her chest.

“Explain.”

~

Did she feel bad for the kid that Adrien had adopted? Sure. No one deserves that kind of life…

But that didn’t calm her down in the slightest.

She was trying to relax herself. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she heard him out to keep herself from yelling or interrupting, her nails dug into the skin of her palms to keep her grounded…

Adrien finished with a sigh and a “I don’t regret it, she was in trouble and it’s our job to protect civilians.”

She didn’t know why those words made her anger worsen. There was some sense in them, and yet she had to strain to keep her voice level when she spoke: “Just once, could you actually just own up to a mistake you make?”

“I’ll own up to a mistake when I actually think it’s a mistake!”

“Whatever.” She thrummed her foot on the floor. “We can’t keep adopting random kids, Chat, there’s only so much we can do!”

“They need our help!”

“Bullshit! You need them more than they need you! Newsflash! Helping a bunch of kids isn’t going to make your own childhood any better!”

Adrien flinched and she felt a twinge of guilt finally poke through the anger, but before she could apologize he was jabbing his finger in her chest.

“At least my terrible coping mechanism helps people! You want to pull trauma into this? What about the fact that we still can’t say Lila’s name? What about the fact that you refuse to make friends with people our age because you fear them leaving you?”

She winced and her face reddened. “Okay, but does that inconvenience you? No! At least mine is only self-destructive! Yours is going to drag the entire family down with you! We’ve already fucked up these kids for sure, but you just keep making it worse and worse by spreading our limited time thinner!”

“Shut up! What do you know? You hardly ever talk to them anyways! You’re always at work or asleep!”

“Really? And whose fault is that? If you’d just stuck to the actual plan B instead of going out and attacking all the cops in the GCPD there wouldn’t have been as much attention on what had happened!”

He rolled his eyes. “I’VE ALREADY TOLD YOU THAT I HAD TO DO THAT! IT WAS TO KEEP EVERYONE AWAY FROM THE SECURITY ROOM TO KEEP PEGASUS SAFE!”

“PLEASE! NO ONE WAS GOING TOWARDS THE SECURITY ROOM! YOU’RE JUST AN IMPULSIVE DICK!”

“ARE YOU REALLY CALLING ME IMPULSIVE?!”

“YOU ADOPT KIDS LIKE THEY’RE POKEMON! OF COURSE I’M GOING TO CALL YOU IMPULSIVE!”

“YOU’RE THE ONE WHO ALWAYS GETS IN RANDOM FIGHTS BECAUSE YOU’RE NEVER CAREFUL!”

She groaned and fought to make herself relax enough to speak without yelling. They were in a relatively abandoned part of Gotham but that didn’t mean that there was no one around. The last thing they needed on top of everything going on was to have their fight end up in the papers.

Adrien was clearly doing the same, because he was quiet for a long time before he spoke in little more than a whisper:

“Do you not want to be a part of the family anymore?”

She opened her mouth to say ‘of course I want to be a part of the family’, but no sound came out. She wasn’t sure why she was even hesitating. She cared about them, obviously. She wouldn’t be working so hard if she didn’t…

But it was definitely a lot.

She could only handle so much at once. Beyond the powers she was just a human, and supporting that many other people is hard. Especially considering she essentially had two jobs to keep up with, as well…

The longer she went without answering the more tears spilled over his mask. Still, he was waiting for her answer. He was waiting for some kind of verbal confirmation that she couldn’t do it anymore.

She reached up and gently cupped his cheeks, wiping his tears away with her thumb.

“Chat, I…” She swallowed thickly. “I don’t know how much more we can do.”

He hesitantly brought his hands up to rest over hers. “I know. I just… I can’t just leave them. They always look so sad.”

She’d fallen in love with Adrien for his kindness and now it was the thing that was threatening to tear their marriage apart.

But he’d fallen for her because of her problem solving skills. And she was determined to not let this be the one problem she failed to solve.

The problem wasn’t exactly that he was getting more kids. Marinette loved kids.

The problem was that they didn’t know if they could raise kids without messing them up too badly.

Part of it was that everyone in the family had had one or more big events that had traumatized them, and it looked like it was finally time that they started getting past it.

Could they even get past it at this point? It had been over two decades since Marinette and Adrien had originally gotten their traumas, what if it was too late? What would happen if they somehow did get over it? It had been a part of them for such a long time, what would they be without it?

And then there was the kids. Could they even get them to go?

It was worth a shot, at least...

And the other change they needed to make was to make more time for their kids.

Neither of them were going to give up their day jobs (Adrien wouldn’t and Marinette, unfortunately, couldn’t just yet). That meant that they either needed to get caffeine in the house or give up vigilantism…

Well, cross of the giving up vigilantism thing automatically. On top of just not being able to give up on the city they were in when there was still so much to fix, they knew it would only be temporary. They’d already tried to give up vigilantism. They simply couldn’t bring themselves to.

So that left trying to get caffeine past Barbara. The kids (outside of Tim) were very much against caffeine and they worked very hard to make sure neither Marinette or Tim ever managed to get their hands on it. From purposefully making sure Marinette and Tim couldn’t go anywhere without one of them to monitoring the break room camera at her work to make sure she didn’t drink any, the kids were determined to make sure Marinette couldn’t get her hands on anything.

But Adrien could. No one would suspect him.

She bit her lip. This wasn’t going to go over well. Getting Adrien to therapy AND make him get caffeine? Man, this was going to suck.

“Chaton… I might have an idea… but you’re going to have to hear me out…”

~

He and Marinette were arguing again, though this was far more light-hearted.

“We are not opening another portal. We’re already lucky enough that this dimension hasn’t collapsed on us, we aren’t testing it.”

He rolled his eyes and stopped scratching runes into the wall to glare at her. “Would you rather we let a girl-woman-female-you-know-what-I-mean room with a guy?”

“What about we give her Jason’s room and let Jason sleep with us? He comes into our room to sleep either way.”

“Jason still uses his room to store things.”

“This is a bad idea, Chaton…”

He grinned. “Mhmm.”

“This is what I meant when you said you’re stupidly impulsive.”

“Would you rather do it?”

“Sure.”

He rolled his eyes. “And that’s what I meant when I said you don’t care about your own health. It’ll be fine.”

She clicked her tongue and motioned for him to go on.

He finished scratching the last rune and sighed when he saw some weird tentacle monster slowly unfurling itself on the other side. He got to his feet quickly and raised his staff to fight it, only to cringe when he heard Dick and Jason scream downstairs.

“I’ll deal with that, do you have this taken care of?”

She winced. “Sure. Where exactly is the portal, to be sure?”

He pointed it out and then ran downstairs.

Jason was currently not having a good time, it seemed. The bottom half of his body had been swallowed by a hole in the floor and he was struggling to get a hold on the slick floors.

Dick was also there, screaming incoherently from one of the ceiling lights.

Adrien ran over and grabbed one of Jason’s arms and started slowly pulling him out of the portal. After a bit Dick snapped out of it and scrambled to help.

The three were panting by the time they managed to get him all the way out.

“What the heck what the heck what the heck what the heck --,” Dick mumbled, holding his heart.

Jason, though just as shaken, seemed to be getting over it quickly. “How do we fix that?”

“Don’t remember, ask your mom,” mumbled Adrien as he crawled over to the portal on the floor and peered down.

It was a tiny group of people crowded around a computer.

Wait, what the heck were they wearing? Were they cosplaying as vigilantes? They definitely had the tacky outfits down if they were but Adrien didn’t know who they could be. Well, it had been a long time since they’d visited the Justice League, maybe he just didn’t know them…

He cleared his throat awkwardly and flashed them a blinding smile.

“Um… sorry about this, we’ll fix it as quickly as possible.”

“Was that… was that Dick Grayson?” Said the tallest of them.

Was he dressed as a bat? Why was he dressed as a bat? Dressing up like animals wasn’t technically their thing but on the other hand it was absolutely their thing. Adrien was almost offended.

Wait, he’d said something. He tried not to go pale when his brain finally processed it. This wasn’t exactly how he’d wanted the world to find out their identities…

“What kind of name is Dick Grayson? Ha! Lame!”

Dick sent him an affronted look from where he was on the floor. Adrien gave him an apologetic smile and a shrug.

Jason came back down with a baking pan. “Mom said to drop something through, so…”

“What’s that?”

“Brownies.”

“You’re dropping our brownies down there? Are you trying to kill them?” Asked Dick.

Adrien blinked once then sighed. “It could have worked for once. Be nice.”

Jason scoffed. “It didn’t. She forgot sugar. That’s why we’ll give it to them.”

“Sorry about this!” Said Adrien as Jason dropped the pan through the portal.

As promised, it closed now that something had been sacrificed.

The three looked at each other for a few seconds before Dick looked away and said, “So… pretend this never happened?”

“Yep.”

~

She cursed as she fell back on the couch, never mind the fact that Adrien was already laying there. Her husband made a quiet ‘oof’ sound as she dropped on top of him. She was hopped up on caffeine and ready to bond with her kids but the problem was that the kids, in fact, had lives.

The little time that Marinette and Adrien didn’t have work was taken up by patrols, by Jason’s homework, by Tim’s extracurriculars, by Dick’s job...

“There’s still not enough time.”

“We might have to stop being vigilantes for a bit…” He said, though he sounded reluctant. “Or rotate off by day…”

She didn’t like the idea either, but it didn’t seem like they had much choice in this if they wanted to be better for their kids. They’d already had to cut back on vigilantism because of their jobs and need for sleep, could they really cut it out of their lives entirely? Just like that?

No, there had to be something they could do. The city was still the most crime ridden city in the world. They couldn’t give up on it.

But then what to do…?

She watched Tim stumble in with a dislocated shoulder and squeaked, pushing herself off of her husband and rushing over.

“Shit! What happened?”

“I… might have messed up a boomerang-horseshoe-thingy catch and it might have hit me in the shoulder.”

She clicked her tongue. “Right. I’m going to reset it on three. One, two --.”

Tim gave a grunt of pain as she pushed his shoulder back into place.

“You should have told someone, how long were you fighting with a dislocated shoulder?”

“A little while…”

She shook her head and glanced at Adrien to give him the ‘kids, right?’ look, only to find him lost in thought.

He snapped out of it and flashed her a grin.

“I think I have an idea. How do you feel about going back on patrols with partners?”

~

He stretched across his family’s lap as they waited.

Adrien, Marinette, Dick, Jason, and Tim all sat in a therapist’s office for family counseling. They would have invited Cass but the whole ‘not speaking’ thing made therapy difficult. They actually had invited Barbara, only to get shut down because apparently she didn’t want to ‘deal with all that mess’.

So, it was just them.

Well, I say ‘just’ like five people isn’t a lot of people to have in a single therapy session. The poor therapist looked like she was going to have a heart attack when she saw all of them waiting for her.

Good thing they'd chosen the shortest session...

“Um… Agreste?”

“Yep!” Said Dick, far too brightly for a therapy session but whatever.

“Cool… right this way!”

His family glanced at each other before shrugging and pushing Adrien off of their laps in unison. He pouted up at them from his new place on the floor, but no one seemed all that guilty about it.

Marinette did reach out and pull him to his feet by the back of his shirt, though, so there was at least that.

They filed into the therapist’s room and took a seat on yet another couch.

Dr. Quinzel smiled at all of them. “Okay, does anyone have anything they’d like to start us off with?”

The family eyed each other warily. They were here as civilians, so they had to make sure not to slip up and talk too in depth about most things…

“Jason keeps calling me ‘Replacement’!” Said Tim, finally.

Marinette and Adrien frowned at Jason, who was attempting to sink into his hoodie.

“Well, we definitely didn’t know about that…” said Marinette.

“Of course you didn’t!” Said Jason. “You’re hardly ever around!”

Tim sighed. “They’re just busy.”

Adrien flinched. That was way too close to the excuse he used to make for his own father for his liking. Were they really that bad? Sure, he and Marinette were definitely not around as much as they’d like to be, but they were making an effort… did that really matter, though?

“No, Jay is right. We’ll try and do more. We’ve talked about how we’re going to free up time for you guys recently, actually. We’re hoping to include you more in our...” He glanced at Dr. Quinzel. “... hobby. Do more things with you in general, really.”

Marinette nodded her agreement.

She glanced at the boy’s faces and then clicked her tongue. “Anyone have problems they want to share?”

“No, our family is perfect how it is!” Said Dick brightly, his gaze fixed on the window.

Adrien followed his gaze to make sure nothing bad was going down on the streets and then sighed. “Dick, there has to be something. You’ve been just as tense as the rest of us recently.”

“Nope! Everything’s great!”

Everyone else exchanged skeptical looks but they couldn’t really feel comfortable pushing --.

Dr. Quinzel frowned a little bit. “Okay. We’ll come back to you when everyone else has had their say, then. Hopefully you’ll be more comfortable then.”

Dick gave a charming smile. Dr. Quinzel didn’t seem all that perturbed as she turned to look at Marinette.

His wife pursed her lips tightly as everyone else’s eyes went to her and she smoothed out the front of her dress. “We’ve already talked about this one-on-one, but… I think Adrien could maybe think a bit more before doing things. Or, at least, he should tell me when he makes major decisions like adopting kids.”

Dick’s smile dropped instantly. “Are you really complaining about not being told things? You guys tell me nothing! I have to figure everything out myself!”

Everyone startled a little at the sudden change of heart and gave each other wary glances before finding their way back to Dick.

The man in question had pushed himself to his feet (Adrien whined a little bit about losing the person to lean against) and started pacing. “You even ask Barbara things before me! It’s like you think I’m stupid!”

“Sweetie --.”

“Dont!” Dick sighed and came to a stop. He shoved his hands into his pockets. “It’s fine, it’s just… don’t you trust me?”

Marinette and Adrien looked at each other before nodding.

“Of course we do,” he said gently. “We’ll talk more about this at home, okay? When we’re not in the present company?” He looked at Tim and Jason, but he meant Dr. Quinzel. That was a hard subject to tiptoe around.

Dick took a seat on the armrest, likely so he could get up again without disturbing anyone.

Dr. Quinzel nodded. She looked at Adrien, and he fought the urge to try and hide behind Jason. She looked way too smart for his liking, it felt like she knew just by looking at him exactly what was wrong with him...

“I…” He struggled to find the words in French, let alone in English. “... think I try and get a lot of people in the house so I never have to be alone for long. I used to be alone all the time. I can’t do that again.”

Dr. Quinzel nodded thoughtfully. “It seems that all of you feel excluded or lonely in some way. Thankfully, that means all of you are the solution to each other’s problems. But, also, I suggest branching out some. Family is good, but so are friends. Everyone understand?”

They all gave each other wary looks, but they smiled all the same.

“Great, we can have a session again in a month or two to check your progress. That’ll be $7000 --.”

~

Marinette met her husband’s eyes and they exchanged nervous looks before walking into their room. As expected, Jason was already there. He was ready for bed, it seemed, with his pajamas on and his book out.

They took seats on either side of him and each took a hand.

“Jay…” Began Adrien. “We don’t love you any less because you’re not the newest kid anymore.”

“I know…”

Marinette bit her lip and pressed a tiny kiss to his forehead. “We’re not lying. And you don’t have to, either, just tell us why you think that.”

Jason looked at both of them warily before sinking into his shirt. It didn’t work as much as it did when he was wearing a hoodie or turtleneck, but it still worked surprisingly well.

She looked at Adrien nervously and he took the lead again:

“The reason we tend to focus on the newest the most is because they usually have the freshest problems. When we first got you we focused on you more than Dick because you were still struggling with old habits you picked up while homeless, and he was mostly over what had happened with his original parents.”

Marinette nodded. “And when Tim came in we focused on him because he was dealing with realizing his parents weren’t great and adjusting to a family who loved him. Now we have Cass, who…  will definitely need some extra care…”

Jason sniffled a little and nodded his understanding. “I know you have to, I just… it feels like you don’t want me as much anymore...”

“No way!” Marinette said, squeezing his hand tighter. “We love you, sweetie, you’re just as much our kid as any of the others.”

Adrien smiled. “Exactly. You’re stuck with us, whether you want to be or not.”

Jason gave a wobbly laugh before slowly drawing them in for a hug.

“I love you, too, guys.”

They hugged him back.

“... and I’ll go easier on Tim.”

“Thank kwami, I didn’t want to ruin the moment by bringing it up, but… yeah, be nicer to Tim, please,” said Adrien half jokingly.

Marinette grinned. “Maybe give him a nicer nickname, at least?”

“How about Timbers?”

“Uh…”

“Timberly?”

She clicked her tongue. “How about just Timmy? Or Tim?”

“No, no, I think I’m on to something.”

~

Adrien stared in disbelief.

“You… you did what?”

Dick fiddled with a Rubix cube. Adrien wasn’t sure if that was just to help stay concentrated on the conversation or so he could more easily avoid eye contact.

“I joined the mob two years ago because I wanted to be more in the loop…”

Adrien and Marinette exchanged exhausted looks.

“Don’t be mad! I’ve been rising in the ranks for years now, eventually I’ll be close enough to Agoura to help you guys!”

Marinette sighed lightly and shook her head. “Sweetie, we aren’t mad.”

Adrien raised his eyebrows. “Yes we are.”

“You’re right. We’re mad. But we’re going to let this one slide.”

“No, we aren’t.”

“I can’t read minds!” She said, then she shook her head again. “Look, we just want you to be safe.”

Adrien nodded. “The reason we don’t tell you much isn’t because we don’t trust you, it’s because we don’t like involving you guys in dangerous things when we can avoid it.”

“But Barbara --!”

“We asked her about her opinion on one thing. She actually gave the same answer as you, and we turned her down, too. We’re sorry that you felt like we didn’t trust you, though, that wasn’t ever our intent.”

“And, besides,” added Marinette. “You have a tendency to snoop. We always figured you’d learn everything on your own.”

They took a seat on either side of Dick on the couch and wrapped him in a hug.

Dick beamed as he hugged back.

“... you’re still in trouble, though. That was stupid and dangerous and neither you nor your siblings can never do that again,” said Adrien.

Dick started whining.

~

Marinette bit her lip anxiously as she looked at her phone. All it would take was one click to call, but…

Adrien sighed beside her and reached over. He took the phone and pressed to call, then tossed it back at her.

She panicked, juggling the phone in her hands as it dialled. Nononononononono don’t pick up don’t pick up --

“Hello?” Said Nygma.

Fuck!

She looked at her husband anxiously.

“This or the Justice League,” mouthed Adrien.

She squeaked and brought the phone to her ear. “Nygma! Hi!”

“... Hello?”

“Hey! I’m a bit bored, so… I was just wondering if, um, you want to do something as…” she wheezed. “... as um… as…”

“I don’t really have anything prepared right now, I’m still waiting on that shipment of penguins...” The Riddler seemed confused, which was a first.

Was she a little concerned about whatever Riddler was doing with penguins? Sure. Then again, this is Riddler she was talking about. What was he going to do? Steal one of her ninja kids and then tell her exactly where they were? Whatever.

“No no! Like um…”

“Friends?”

“Yes! That!”

Adrien rested his head in his hands with a deep sigh. She flipped him off despite knowing he couldn't see it.

“I guess my schedule is free until the penguins come in... Sure! Want to go try an escape room?”

“No, I do an escape room every time I see you. I’m making you a new outfit.”

Adrien and Riddler both groaned.

She smiled.

~

He hesitated, messing with the strap of the bag over his shoulder.

“The city might need me --.”

“The city will be fine for a week,” said Marinette.

“The kids might need me --,” he tried, only to get silenced by a kiss.

She pulled back a little bit later. “It’s one week. Besides, we’re all doing what Dr. Quinzel said, and you’ve stalled long enough.”

He sighed. “For good reason! It’s a week alone! I’m going to go insane.”

“Chaton, we’re murderers. I think we crossed over that line a while ago.”

He cracked a grin, weak as it was, and pressed another kiss to her lips. “Are you sure --?”

“Yes! Oh my kwami! Now go!” She gave him a playful shove.

He raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms over his chest. “It almost feels like you’re trying to get rid of me.”

“And it almost feels like you’re stalling.”

She waved down a taxi for him and he couldn’t help but cringe as they took the bags from him. It made it feel much more real…

“I love you, Chaton, I’ll see you in a week.”

“I love you, too, M’lady.”

He waved at the kids long after they had disappeared over the horizon and he sighed as he sunk back in his seat. He knew it was for the best, he needed to learn how to function as a person on his own, but…

It was only a week. Only a week.

Besides…

He looked down at the coordinates of the last known location of David Cain (it was amazing what Tim, Barbrara, and Marinette could do when angry enough).

He wasn’t going to be bored, at least.

~

She turned away from the cake she’d been decorating and nearly screamed when her eyes landed on Cass. She hadn’t even noticed her walk in.

Marinette forced herself to relax.

She glanced over the tiny girl in front of her and bit her lip. She was wearing a mix of different shades of black which…

She suppressed a shudder. The outfit was okay, if she was being honest, but it definitely needed a splash of color.

“Right, that’s it, we’re finding you some new clothes.”

Cass looked at her blankly.

Right. She didn’t speak language. Marinette pursed her lips as she tried to think of some sort of movement that would convey what was going on, then settled for reaching out a hand for Cass.

She couldn’t help the smile that broke across her face when the girl took her hand. She trusted her! Score!

She hesitated for a minute before yelling: “SWEETIE! I mean… JASON! COME ON WE’RE GOING SHOPPING YOUR CLOTHES ARE GETTING SMALL FOR YOU!”

There was a few seconds’ pause before Jason poked his head in. He glanced at the two of them and frowned, sinking a little bit into his hoodie. “You noticed?”

“I… don’t even know how to respond to that. I’m a designer, of course I noticed. If you want to keep going for the grunge look that’s fine but you need to up your size.”

Jason nodded.

She rested her arm around his shoulders (something that was very hard for her to do now that he was both taller and wider than she was) and pulled the two kids out to the mall.

Jason was getting used to buying things for himself. He still resisted a little bit when people spent money on him or asked what he wanted, but he was making progress.

She pressed a kiss to his cheek and handed him a credit card. “Buy what you want. Remember the PIN?”

“Mhmm…” said Jason. He sent a wave over his shoulder as he made his way over to the men’s section.

She hummed lightly as she walked through the girl’s section to look for things for Cass. The girl was short and skinny for her age -- she was determined not to think about it for too long -- and she could easily fit in kid’s clothes…

But no kid of Marinette’s would have a shirt with the words ‘Girl Power!’ or ‘I love tacos!’ on it.

She helped pick out different shades of black shirts and jeans for the girl, mulling over the different colors she should give her. Yellow and red matched her skin tone but she doubted the kid wanted anything bright…

Marinette settled for giving Cass a blue scarf and some gold accessories.

She smiled and offered them to Cass, only to pale when the girl burst into tears. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck --

Cass hugged Marinette around the middle and buried her face in her chest and Marinette was just very confused.

Jason came back with two bags of new clothes and he blinked a few times as he took in the new situation.

“What the fuck happened?”

“I don’t know!” She hissed back, waving her hands vaguely. “She’s crying and I can’t even ask what’s wrong!”

“We need to teach her a language,” mumbled Jason.

“No shit, Sherlock!”

“Fuck off, Watson!”

She was getting judgemental looks from fellow shoppers now. Great. Amazing, even. She rested an arm around Cass and then used the other hand to flip them off. How dare they judge how she parented her kid she just met.

She waited until Cass was done to pull away and lean down to check her face. Even if she couldn’t really speak, her expression should be a good gauge of what was wrong --.

Cass gently took the items from Marinette and flashed her a blinding smile.

Damn it. Now Marinette was going to cry. This kid was so cute.

She leaned over and gently pressed a kiss to Cass’s forehead.

HER kid was so cute, she reminded herself as she led her along to .

She helped her wrap the scarf around her neck. Was it kind of hot out? Yes. Was Cass super cute with her mouth hidden behind the fabric? Also yes.

She glanced at Jason, who was also smiling a little bit despite not having all the attention.

His smile dropped at her next words, though:

“I know you still have my card. Hand it over.”

“Fuck.”

~

It turns out ASL is hard.

It also turns out that teaching ASL, while you’re still learning it yourself, to a person who doesn’t even comprehend language is even harder.

Weird how that works out.

They started with simpler things. Everyday objects, basic emotions, the first letters of their names so she could say who she was talking about. It was a slow process, especially because they often would take two days per lesson because of everyone’s conflicting schedules.

But it was a process.

And he thought the family was doing pretty well, too. It probably helped that Cass was, at least so far, the nicest person in the house and none of them wanted her to be sad or lonely.

Look at that. They were working on making her not feel excluded. Progress! Dr. Quinzel would be proud.

~

Marinette paused her walk to the kitchen when she saw blonde hair. Adrien had blond hair, but he was still out on patrols with Dick so…

She turned and looked at the person on the couch with Tim. “Please, kwami, tell me he didn’t get another one when we just started making progress.”

Tim barely even looked up from his computer. “No, just my friend, Steph. She’s here because she thinks I’m sad my parents died.”

“Oh, oka --.” Marinette took a step back. “Hold up, what?”

“Yeah, they were killed by this guy in Haiti. I was sad about it for a while but then I was like ‘wait a minute! I can just kill him back!’ Anyways, it’s all good now.”

Steph didn’t seem all that perturbed about the murder thing, so she brushed past worrying about their identities or, y’know, her kid getting prosecuted...

Marinette pulled out her phone. “Yeah, Dr. Quinzel? I’m going to need to schedule another appointment…”

Tim frowned. “I’m fine, Mari.”

“Oh! Yeah! This isn’t for you… but, Steph, he doesn’t have anything going on Friday night, right?”

“I’ll make sure he’s free.”

She nodded. “Thanks, sweetie. Want anything to eat?”

“Guys! I’m fine! I got my revenge! I feel great!”

“Of course, you do, Timmy. And… waffles?”

She continued her walk to the kitchen to finish up scheduling and make Steph waffles.

~

Listen, at this point Cass having a miraculous was a given.

He might as well make sure it was a good one that would come in useful. And, it kind of matched her fighting style of predicting people’s moves to have one that allowed her to go five minutes into the past. She’d be even better at predicting people’s movements if she’d seen them before!

Besides, she liked the color blue. Perfect fit.

Marinette had agreed to train her, but Adrien was the one to take her out on patrols with him.

It was good to have people with different fight styles together, it made solving problems easier. Adrien paired with Dick and Cass, Marinette tended to pair with Jason, and Tim would tag in on either side since he had no real consistent fight style (he liked to change based on his opponent).

Besides, with group patrols they got to spend more time with their kids! They were nothing if not efficient people.

He and Cass sat on the rooftop across from the building Agoura had asked to meet Dick in. There was a low chance it was going to get violent, there should be no way that he’d know anything was off (Marinette and Dick had been publicly fighting for the past year to make it seem like they were on opposite sides), but it was better safe than sorry.

He watched Dick wave to Agoura and head off. Adrien and Cass watched carefully for any sign that they were suspicious, that they were going to do something underhanded, but Agoura just turned and started heading off into the night.

When his oldest son came up to sit with them, he had a thought. He glanced at Cass and made a swiping motion on his wrist.

She nodded her understanding.

They waited for Dick to transform before following Agoura and his goons. Five people were with him, but that wasn’t actually that bad by Agoura standards, so...

“Y’know, if he gets suspicious of me because of this, I’m never going to forgive you,” said Dick.

He shrugged absently, then broke into a wide grin when Agoura turned down an alley. “Living hotel to hotel wasn’t that bad back in the day.”

“Hm. I disagree, but…” The three of them exchanged grins as Cass activated her power. “Let’s do this.”

Dick brought his flute to his lips and played a high-pitched note that made Agoura and his goons stop in their tracks. Duplicates of each vigilante slowly spread out over the rooftops, as well as a replica of Dick.

The vigilantes and their fakes dropped down to surround the group and Cass suddenly reached out and jerked Adrien’s hand. He almost complained but then a bullet soared past where his head had just been and he went pale.

He squeezed her hand once as thanks and then pulled away so he could activate his Cataclysm.

Doubles went after the goons while Cass went to work disarming people. It was kind of creepy how she disappeared into the shadows without any help from Dick, but no one said anything because it was useful. She would pop out of shadows and break arms and legs to put goons out of commission.

Dick was giving himself an alibi. The fake lawyer ran into the action, only to get taken out by a fake Cass.

Agoura was making a run for it. Too bad, really, that he couldn’t exactly see anything that was going on. The world in front of Agoura was a mess of dumpsters and trash bags that he was struggling to run around. Adrien, who knew for a fact that everything was either fake or light enough to brush away with his staff, followed after him at a calm pace.

He grabbed Agoura by the back of his tailored suit and smiled at him.

“Agoura! Buddy! Where are you going? I just want to chat!”

“Nice one!” Yelled Dick from somewhere in the chaos.

“Thanks, Robin!”

He tipped his head to the side and regarded the man in his grip. It was clear he didn’t really know that much self-defense, but he must have some kind of weapon hidden on him…

Cass seemingly materialized out of the wall nearby and threw herself at Agoura, a blur of blue and black, and the man was nearly knocked out of Adrien’s grip by the force. Then she pulled away with a gun and a few knives.

Adrien raised his eyebrows a little bit before sending her a smile. Yeah. It was definitely a good thing that he’d given her that specific miraculous...

He turned his attention back on the mobster, who was beginning to look a little pale.

“Don’t worry about it, I’m not here to kill you. You deserve way worse,” he said brightly.

He pressed his hand to the man’s wrist. He closed his eyes and forced himself to concentrate on just dissolving the wrist. It was kind of hard to do with the mobster screaming his head off. Kwami, you’d think he’d be quiet so Adrien wouldn’t dissolve him into nothing but apparently not…

The hand popped off and he let go instantly. He looked down and winced at the black webbing its way under the glove.

He glanced at the mobster nearby, who was still screaming, and rolled his eyes. He punched him as hard as he could and smiled when he fell to the ground in a heap by the hand. Good, now that that was dealt with...

He scrunched up his nose a little bit as he slowly peeled the glove off of the hand and then his face split into a wide smile. Thank kwami, he hadn’t ruined the prints.

He turned to his kids and found them waiting for him amidst a pile of bodies. He didn’t know if the henchmen were alive or not, but when he saw the tiny scrape on Cass’s cheek he decided he didn’t care.

He waved the hand at them.

“We got him!”

~

Listen, Marinette had considered staying commissioner…

For approximately two seconds.

The vigilantes had made their point in getting Agoura arrested (they gave him about four days before he ‘mysteriously committed suicide’ in jail thanks to either underpaid henchmen or old victims). They were done. It had been way too hard to even think about doing it consistently. No, murder was definitely the way to go.

She glanced over at Nygma. “Thanks for helping me pack up.”

“Well, I figured it would be nice to visit again.”

She nodded slowly and looked around her old office. Tomorrow there would be someone else in that chair, someone likely far more corrupt…

“Got a knife on you?”

“Obviously, but why?”

She shrugged and took it from his outstretched hand. She knelt down by the chair and sawed on one of the legs until she had taken off a tiny piece of it. She pushed on the chair and giggled a little when it wobbled. Yes. Perfect. That would be so annoying.

She tossed the piece of chair leg in the air and then caught it, sending Nygma a wink. “The budget here is terrible, it’ll take at least a few months to get a new chair.”

Nygma rolled his eyes and took his knife back from her. “Hm. And they say I’m the evil one.”

They each grabbed a box. His was full of personal items, hers was full of files on every person currently in the GCPD and every mobster and goon she could think of the name of.

“You owe me one escape room.”

She groaned as they slipped out into the halls. “Why? Wasn’t it enough to spit on the floor?”

“Nope! Spitting on the floor was payment for me showing up, you’re making me do manual labor so I get one hour of escape rooms with you.”

“Don’t you know every solution already?”

“A new one opened up across town!”

She clicked her tongue irritably but shrugged. “Fine. But only because I owe you, not because we’re friends.”

He rolled his eyes and then looked down at the box he was carrying. “Wow, it sure would suck if all these pictures of your kids just… fell.”

Her eyes widened. “You ARE the evil one!”

He raised his eyebrows.

“And… you’re also my friend.” She made a retching noise. “Kwami, I’m going to die.”

“What?! No! Only one of my traps is allowed to kill you!”

“Too late! I’m dying. I’ll never recover…”

“Nooooo…!”

~

He raised an eyebrow at the girl on his couch. He was pretty sure she was Tim’s friend but… she was definitely around a lot…

Whatever, he might as well at this point.

“Hey, how many parents you got?”

Steph didn’t even glance up. “Zero, thanks to you.”

He went still. Wait, was she saying this in the ‘my parent(s) was evil and you killed them’ way or the ‘they were civilians and they got caught in the crossfire and I blame you’ way?

“Um… did you like them?”

“No, he was a dick.”

He allowed himself to breathe. Cool. Great. That would have made everything difficult…

“Want to be adopted?”

Steph laughed a little and shrugged. “Do I get to be a vigilante, too?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Then... yeah, whatever.”

~~~

Taglist

@i-am-ironic @nathleigh @mialuvscats @golden-promises @sassakitty @deathwishy @toodaloo-kangaroo @ladythugs @moonlightstar64 @dahjokester @jjmjjktth

[leverage-ot3]

notable moments from The 12 Step Job

leverage 1.10

Hardison (brings up map on monitors): That look like a pattern to you?

Parker: It's like Billy from "The Family Circus," If Billy was a drunken sex fiend.

eliot straight up looked at her like ?????

- - - - -

Nate: Actually, it does. He's an addict, under stress. So he's not gonna be doing a lot of exploring. He's gonna stay well within his comfort zone. He's still in LA. Oh, yeah. All right, we're gonna do this old-school. Ah, Parker, you break into his condo, see what you can find. Sophie and I will hit the retail spots. You guys go to his favorite haunts. But don't spook him, just follow him. Let him lead us to the money.

Hardison: All right?

Eliot (to Hardison): Strip Joint.

Hardison: Mmm. (to Nate) You know, I'm - I'm gonna need change for $100... in singles.

Nate: I'm sorry. What? Y-you think I have 100 singles on me?

(Eliot and Hardison walk out)

they looked at each other giddily that the con was going to take them to a strip joint and immediately asked their dad nate for money

they’re children, your honor

- - - - -

Hardison: This dude, you see him trying to force his keys onto that girl?

Eliot: Yeah. It should be the other way around, huh?

(Hurley gets into the car and starts it)

Eliot: Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot. You don't know nothing about that.

Hardison: Really? I almost had it in me to wash this car. Almost.

Eliot: Ten bucks says you're washing the car.

Hardison: I know it ain’t

Eliot: I guaran- (he is cut off when a car pulls up behind Hurley as he’s backing up, and he hits it. Men get out of the car and run around to where Hurley is getting out of his car)

CHILDREN

also as soon as hardison spilled that slushie he was Dead™

(also when did they stop to get slushies ??? like did hardison beg eliot to stop at some place to get one ??? did eliot begrudgingly to it, complaining all the way but secretly not actually minding it that much ???)

- - - - -

eliot and hardison fighting goons in the parking lot ? two words: 🥰 crime boyfriends 🥰

- - - - -

Hardison: I got a gun. I got a gun.

Man: All right, man, hey, hey.

(the men back away. Hardison points the gun and shoots. The bullet goes into the engine of the men’s car, disabling it. Eliot pulls Hardison toward their car)

Eliot: Nice job blowing out the engine block.

Hardison: I was aiming for his leg.

(Eliot grabs the gun)

Eliot: Yeah give me the gun, Hardison

hardison can’t shoot for shit and it’s hilarious

- - - - -

Parker: Hi. My name is Rose. I'm a kleptomaniac. My parents are rich, but I shoplift anyway... (looks at notes on her wrist) because I hate myself.

HER NOTES ON HER WRIST LMFAO

- - - - -

making parker take the drugs without explaining the process or making her sign anything etc is unethical

- - - - -

Hardison: It-It's, uh, a computer bomb. I-I-I know computers. Computer bomb, um. We-we-we got to reboot the system. Yeah.

Eliot (stands up): You want me to kick it?

Hardison: God, I’m gonna die. No, just, look. (reaches under dash)

Eliot: Wh-wh-wh-whoa.

Hardison: J-just, no. Duck up under the hood and just tell me how it's attached to the electrical system. (pops hood)

I’ve seen meta for this scene where eliot actually obviously knows not to kick it, he’s just saying that to jumpstart hardison’s brain since he’s freaking the fuck out. and I believe that wholeheartedly.

- - - - -

Eliot: What's our margin for error here?

Hardison: About half a second.

Eliot: Run the bag of bricks by me again.

Hardison: You ready?

Eliot: No.

Hardison: Are you ready?

(Eliot reaches under the hood with a shaking hand and grabs the wires)

Eliot: Yeah

ELIOT! COULD! HAVE! JUST! LEFT!

they were a newly formed team and if worst came to worst, he could have just gotten himself to safety and have that be it. except he would NEVER do that. he’d never leave any of his team behind (especially hardison). in this scene and the one before it his hands were SHAKING because he was so scared for hardison and that hardison wouldn’t make it. eliot is the retrieval specialist and he’s the one that is supposed to get everyone home safe. he needed hardison to be safe.

- - - - -

Receptionists: Can I help you?

Eliot: You sure can. Here to see a patient of yours, Mr. Tom Baker.

Receptionists: What's your relationship?

Eliot: Why?

Receptionists: Second Act has a strict policy. Only family members can see patients. We want to make sure outside influences don't hamper our clients' recoveries.

Eliot: I think that's an excellent policy. I'm Tom's brother. Hi. Mark.

(Eliot kisses the receptionists hand. She looks at Hardison)

Hardison: I'm-I'm with him.

Receptionists: So, you're a friend of…

Hardison: No, no, I am—

(Hardison puts his arm through Eliot’s. Eliot stiffens)

Hardison: I am with him. See, he thinks the flirting makes me jealous, but it doesn't. You know, but if you was, like, Brad Pitt or Denzel or somebody, oh, girl, it would be on, seriously. (rings the bell) Bring your ass. Bring your ass. (pulls Eliot away from the desk)

ot3 foreshadowing in season one- we love to see it

(also what a fucking nerd, hardison, tom baker? you live to base aliases off of doctor who)

- - - - -

Parker: I thought my foster parents just wanted me so they could get money from the state, but now I realize they didn't love each other. They just wanted someone to love them.

Hurley: Like they need you to fill in the gaps for their relationship.

Parker: Exactly. But when that didn't happen, they just withdrew

Hurley: Yeah.

Parker: Which led me to steal.

Hurley: Yeah.

Parker: It's all so clear to me now

I’m not sure how much of this was true from her origin story but I’m keeping it as meta just in case

- - - - -

Hardison: He's not all bad. He did give some of the money to people in need.

Eliot: You ever notice how all bad guys know at least one stripper?

Sophie (answering phone): Hello?

Hardison: And you know at least a hundred, so what does that say about you?

Eliot: Hey, I’m a bad guy

stfu eliot you know you’re not a bad guy anymore

- - - - -

parker walking around all happy

- - - - -

Parker: Okay, Parker, get into the air vent, out to the front gate.

Parker: No.

Nate: No?

Parker: No, I feel like I’m making real progress here.

Nate (puts his hands on her shoulders): Listen, I need you to focus, okay?

(Parker smiles and looks down at Nate’s arms)

Nate: What?

Parker: You don't usually touch me, or any of us, really. It's the hole in your heart, Tom. It doesn't allow you to get close to people.

Hurley: She's right

parker got so insightful in this episode. like it was because of the drugs but it gave an interesting look into her mind and into her past

- - - - -

Hurley: Dr. Tanner?

Sophie: Hurley, jump on. Let's go. Now!

(Sophie is pulled away, but another creeper comes out from beneath the car. Hurley gets out of the car. Eliot is pulling on the rope from behind another car. Hurley is pulled away to safety. Eliot covers Sophie)

Eliot: Keep your head down. Keep your head down.

eliot covered sophie with his body and we love to see eliot protecting his family with whatever he’s got

- - - - -

Eliot: Ooh.

Hurley: Steel-Belted radials.

(Eliot pulls a knife and cuts open the tire, revealing the inside full of money)

Eliot: Ohhh.

Hurley: What do you think?

(Eliot hands Hardison a handful of money)

Sophie: I think you might have a knack for this.

that was actually really smart ??? tagging this as something useful for a fic maybe ???

- - - - -

Nate: Just-just take the win. Take the win. (grabs an envelope from Hardison and hands it to Hurley) Here you go.

Hurley: What's this?

Nate: That's your new identity. It's a driver's license, a passport, birth certificate.

Hardison: Your library card, Netflix membership, Sam’s club. Oh, I got you three months free at 24-Hour fitness. Maybe work off some of those tacos.

Hurley: You guys didn't have to do all this.

Nate: Yeah, well, actually, uh, we did. Uh, Jack Hurley is dead. We killed him. So this is your chance to kind of start over.

Hurley: Wow. Hey, d-do you think Michelle will forgive me when she gets the payout from my life-insurance policy?

Nate: Yeah, why don't we just, uh, go with the win? (escorts him toward the door) We're giving you a second chance, so don't screw it up. If you do, I promise we'll know. (hands Hurley tickets) Train ticket.

Hurley: Don't worry about me.

Nate: Yeah.

Hurley: I'm playing it straight from now on. In fact, as soon as I get to, uh... (looks at ticket) Rosarito, I’m gonna find the nearest support group. I promise. Thanks for everything, Tom. (shakes hand)

when the team has someone “die”, they take CARE of them

- - - - -

Dr. Frank: You're sure this is for the best?

Sophie: Absolutely. Second Act isn't the right place for her.

(Parker smells marker. Sam comes and takes it away from her)

Sophie: No, she needs to be around people who better understand the issues she's struggling with. People more like her.

parker sniffing a marker and smiling snjdnssjsj

also SHE NEEDS HER FAMILY. HER FAMILY UNDERSTANDS HER.

- - - - -

(Parker walks out of the building, laughing)

Parker: Hi. (runs up to the group, who are waiting for her) Hey! I missed you guys!

(Parker throws her bag at Nate and jumps into Eliot’s arms)

Eliot: Oh! (to Sophie) When do the happy pills wear off?

Nate: Usually about 24 hours.

Parker (hugging Hardison): I missed you.

Hardison: That's too bad. I kind of like this Parker.

(Parker puts an arm around both Eliot and Hardison and they start walking away)

Nate: Uh, Eliot?

(Nate throws Parker’s bag, Eliot catches it)

OT3 OT3 OT3

also PLEASE give me a fic of them watching over her while she comes down from the meds just in case she needs anything. fuck, I might have to write this if no one else does.

- - - - -

eliot and hardison having a mini argument in the background getting parker in the car

[purkinje-effect]

The Purkinje Effect, 36

Table of Contents. Go to previous.

____________________

Geek slouched alone in the floor of Hancock’s Statehouse room. Down to his gloves, tank, and jeans, he routed through his duffel, armor, and jumpsuit and laid out everything in his possession. He picked uselessly at what remained of his savings, and quickly returned the caps to their stash in one of the inner pockets of his boiler suit. He found himself snacking on a tub of shortening, rather than accomplishing the task of taking inventory. His gaze fell on the two bottles of Buffout he’d collected from the gym in North End, and his pursed mouth wandered askew.

After Park Street Station, he never wanted to touch a chem again. Even tobacco and spirits felt suspect, and he’d never really considered them chems per se.

He wanted to talk to Hancock. He’d wanted to talk to him since they got back inside Goodneighbor’s walls. But the mayor had made himself scarce and unapproachable, sticking to the corners of people’s vision. The only times he’d seen him in the past twenty-four hours was a quick pop into his room to grab some chems, and when he had taken a short nap upon returning home from their excursion. Geek was pretty sure Hancock had been floating around the Third Rail, but he hadn’t bothered to press interaction. He absolutely did not want to enter another subway if he could help it. Where would he even begin talking anyway?

And it wasn’t like he could talk to ‘Choly about it, either. The chemist had stayed in the Hotel Rexford and not been seen at all. Geek had half a brain cell to suspect that ‘Choly had somehow left town without the Neighborhood Watch noticing, but the rest of his brain cells knew that didn’t add up either. No, the last thing he wanted to do was hunt down the little cretin.

He picked up Cronus, turned it this way and that in his hands. His pursed mouth flattened into a long wide line. A gloved fingertip trailed one of the edges. With a brittle, loud noise he slapped the broad side of the blade against the floor. Again, a third time, until part of it snapped off the once-wrench he’d built it atop. His jaw seared. He grabbed for the ball peen in a tool apron, applied it to the remainder of his work. As the pieces freed from his shiv, he shoved them into his mouth and swallowed them without a care for the possible consequences on the way down.

The shiv was still Cronus, with or without his sweat poured onto it.

He pulled everything back together, keeping the chems set aside. He glanced to the coffee table which normally boasted his boyfriend’s spread and glassware, then stood with a stiff snort, carrying the two bottles of steroid supplements. Then he descended the spiral staircase on his way to the one person he felt would talk to him these days.

Sorry, Dais. He gesticulated on his way out of the Statehouse and across the plaza. We had to go save a Synth imprisoned by Triggermen in a vault. Oh! Sorry, Dais. Hancock didn’t tell me that he meant for us to help him do somethin’ completely different, when he agreed to work with us. Daisy, we should be worried about some a the chem-weapons our new chemist has. Daisy, so sorry. Got trust issues now--

Geek stood before Daisy’s Discounts, and stopped, watching. A ghoul looked to be throwing hands with Daisy from across the counter. He wasn’t sure whether to step between her and this short bespectacled ghoul with a patchy red ducktail, faded muddy leather jacket, and high-rolled trousers demonstrating mismatched socks and spectator brogues. It seemed like neither was intent on landing any hits despite their animation toward one another. The unfamiliar figure slapped his elbow against the back of his hand repeatedly. The longer Geek stood there, the more he felt Daisy’s exhaustion and this other ghoul’s exasperation, like pressure descending upon the space. What got him really staring wasn’t the glowing uranium green hatch marks all along his bare right arm. It was yet another Pip-Boy owner.

Daisy tossed a glance to Geek, to let him know she was aware of him, but she didn’t let up gesturing with animation. The other ghoul said nothing, and kept his attention on Daisy. Daisy slowly began verbalizing bits and pieces. Everything out of her mouth felt like an incomplete thought, but Geek could tell now there was some manner of conversation taking place. And it was about him. He flushed deep pink, and did his best not to frown.

“--No, the three of them are in a rough patch after what happened in the vault, but-- No, I’m sure we can get together enough forces in Goodneighbor to reclaim the-- Cecil! Damn it all!!” No amount of raking one hand along the back of the other could convince the ginger to ease off.

The ghoul turned to Geek. He gave a few dials and buttons and impassive tweak, then resumed gesticulating, this time toward the pink ghoul.

The Pip-Boy emanated a voice something like a Mister Handy’s, though too modulated and mechanical: “You’re the Geek, then.”

“I, what of it,” Geek stammered in bewilderment. “What’s--”

“I might be upset about the ongoing damages to my library,” the Pip-Boy continued on Cecil’s behalf, “but your detour saved one of the only people in Diamond City I still respect. So I owe you thanks.”

“I don’t-- I don’t understand--”

Geek’s attention flitted between Daisy and Cecil, desperate for a modicum of explanation. Cecil went in for a handshake, only to notice Geek’s hands were full. Cecil’s demeanor jilted to a cool fixation upon noticing the particular chem.

“Oh. Buffout. Full bottles? Are you looking to unload them?”

“Cecil,” Daisy hissed, slouching on the counter, and not even bothering to move a muscle. “If the Geek is interested in selling them to me, I will set them aside for you. And you can buy them. From. Me.”

Geek glanced up at the store front sign, then back to Cecil. Supposing it’s fair she dislikes anyone but her doing business in her shop.

After watching the Pip-Boy screen a moment, Cecil soured and lost his patience with the whole thing.

“I’m going to the Den,” his Pip-Boy announced on his way out of the plaza and around the corner.

“...His library?” Geek still glanced in the direction Cecil had left.

“That was Mr. Cecil. He’s the curator of the Boston Public Library.” Daisy let out a long, beleaguered sigh. “I’m sorry, dear. Did you need something?”

“...I thought I did... Never mind.” He squinted, unable to shake the rhyme. “No. The library curator? I thought you said the library was full of super mutants.”

“He is. And, unfortunate as it is... it is.” She only got up long enough to fetch herself a beer, and seemed in marginally better sorts with her whistle whet. “When the mutants moved in, I was confident--but not certain--that he stepped out of the house at the time, so to speak. It’s a shame for the library to fall out of his hands like this, and for him to come home from his errand like this, but I’m glad he’s still kicking. One of a handful of the prewar ghouls that still haunt the Commonwealth.”

“Came to apologize for not reclaiming the library yet, but... You did the same thing Hancock did. You sent us to make sure somebody that matters to you was okay, but didn’t want to admit it might turn out t’be a rescue mission.” He swatted his train of thought away before continuing. “You are so goddamn good at your job that I don’t even have to know I’ve got questions, an’ you’ll answer ‘em.”

He set the Buffout on the counter. She softened, smiling genteel despite having little clue what he was on about.

“My job? Sweetheart, I’m just a gorgeous, brilliant, humble gal running an odds and ends shop in the ruins of Boston’s red light district. So you are interested in unloading some goods. I’ll give you ninety-five caps for the pair.”

He nodded impatiently, unable to get rid of the chems fast enough. She counted out five caps from a satchel and gave him the rest, which he shoved into his caps pocket. With a pointed, insistent enthusiasm, he excused himself.

“Boston’s gonna have its library back one day.”

She was scared we wouldn’t find him alive. He thought back to her asking her favor, and recalled her sheer, genuine attachment to the location itself. Hancock had to know who Cecil was, going into this. That’s how he deduced Daisy had put them up to it.

He knew Daisy’s answer to the question ablaze in his eye as he stormed across the plaza to the nearest Neighborhood Watch. Now he needed to know Hancock’s answer to the same damn question.

Why’d you mislead us, when y’know we would’a said yes?

The Watchman waved toward the stoop to the Third Rail, not even having to deduce what Geek wanted. So he did what he didn’t want, and he entered the bar that had been a subway terminal in another life.

Ham stopped him with a pair of gentle, insistent hands on his shoulders.

“Geek, I know ya don’t know me too well. But I’ve got to warn you. I don’t like when trouble kicks up in this place. Don’t be that trouble, capisce?”

“Ain’t got a single intention of that, man. What, you worried Hancock’s gonna start somethin’ in his own bar? Don’t sweat it.”

The tuxedo’ed bouncer relinquished, and Geek continued downstairs in search of the mayor. When he didn’t locate him in the main seating area, he couldn’t even pay mind to Magnolia’s performance on stage. He slipped down the hall to the VIP lounge, and stood right before the corner turned, and listened with great resentment. Oh goody. Worst case scenario. Hancock and ‘Choly were talking, and he could smell Mister Handy fuel before he even got to the hall in the first place.

“Leader’s got to be trustworthy just as much as he’s got to trust his compatriots,” Hancock continued coolly. “You and Geek sounded like you had your heart set on clearing out the library, laid out a ton of financial and sociopolitical ground we stood to gain. But she sent y’all there to check on somebody. I was pretty sure he was safe, but I was very sure Valentine wasn’t. And I didn’t trust either of ya to make the moral decision to focus on Valentine when given the choice. So, ah. Thank you. For making me check myself.”

“You’re forgiven. ...Though, if you really wanted to thank me, truly thank me, you could show your gratitude with a kiss.”

“You’ve got a strange economy, to prioritize bartering in tokens. But... you’ve been bending over backwards since you stepped foot in my town, presumably in some attempt just to earn some. I suppose I could... give you a little peck.”

After a tense and awkward quiet, Geek could hear some clothing rustling, and Hancock’s boots hitting the floor.

“A peck, nothing more, nothing less.” The ghoul mused, diffusing his displeasure into dreaminess. “This ghoul’s not running the bases anymore. Already got my home run.”

'Choly broke the long pause with abjection.

“...When was the last time you know of that Sticks was in town?”

A tall figure came up behind Geek. The pink fellow didn’t have to turn around to know the man wanted trouble.

“You got a habit of snooping?” He had a somewhat shrill, sarcastic, mid-tone voice. “I’m told your bubblegum butt shouldn’t be here.”

“Did Ham sic you on me!”

“Melancholy did. He warned me that you might be following him.”

Geek put his hands up, incredulous.

“I was lookin’ for Hancock!”

“I was just leaving.” ‘Choly leaned hard into his cane, standing several paces from Geek. “Ugh, you have an awful eavesdropping habit. If you want to watch, or be included, you should just say so--”

“Sir!” Angel blurted out, coming along behind him. “You’ve paid good money to enforce a restraining order. Such invitation is both unwise and contrary to your investment.”

‘Choly couldn’t even muster rolling his eyes at his Handy.

“Come on, MacCready. I need to work out some things with the other Rexford tenants.” He glanced over his glasses to Geek, exhausted to his soul. “You heard Angel. Don’t be my shadow. This mercenary is a formidable ex-Gunner, and he’s in my pocket.”

The tall man in a cream duster followed along with the chemist and robot. Geek hemmed as he watched them scale the stairs at ‘Choly’s pace. He couldn’t shake the grief, and did his best to read the room where he stood. A bald patron lounged at the seating area near the end of the bar, where some white picket fencing provided a safety barrier at the edge of what had once been the loading platform.

Wearing sunglasses, flannel, and a pleasantly stupid grin, he waved warmly to him with unsettling familiarity. Geek approached him, scalp prickling, and narrowly made himself sit at the patio furniture with him.

“The fuck are you doing here,” he asked the man.

“Hey, now...” The man grinned, hands up in defense. “Everybody’s welcome in Goodneighbor. Even me!”

[writingthingsisdifficult]

Don’t look

Seeking refuge with the biggest, most scary-looking guys on the bus stop to escape from a stalker. I needed to get this whole situation out of my head. Wish I had Sam and Dean that day (instead I hid in an electronics shop for thirty minutes).

Warnings: Stalking, anxiety, panic

Word count: 1863

My heart is beating so fast I am sure it shows on the outside of my sweater. He is following me, I can feel his eyes on my neck – there is no doubt in my mind. After wandering around the shop for hours, following my every move, even waiting by the door when I had to find something in the back room, he left the second my shift ended. He didn’t even buy anything. It can’t be a coincidence.

I hurry through the corridor, weaving between clueless customers, trying to walk as fast as I can without being obvious. If I can only get to the third floor, I’ll be safe. From there I can hop on the bus and leave this nightmare behind.

Once I round the corner by the sweets shop, I sidestep and head for the nearest elevator instead of the escalator. Maybe that’ll throw him off. I cross my fingers in my pocket as I press the ‘close doors’ button repeatedly, probably harder than necessary, but I just can’t help it. I do not want to get stuck in here with him.

The doors finally close, and I breathe out, dragging my hand through my hair. My reflection stares back at me from the mirrored wall; pale and nervous, all shuffling feet and fidgeting hands. But as the elevator lifts, my hearing slowly returns, and I jump from the loud ding when I’m up.

I blink a couple of times and steel myself. Third floor: my bus is just at the end the corridor and through the revolving doors. The floor smacks under my shoes and I wince.

Looking warily around the corner, I look back towards the escalator. The coast is clear, and I set off, past the shops and people, hyper-focused on the direction and what goes on behind me.

The exit is neat when suddenly: “Hello, dear! How are you?”

I flinch and turn towards the voice. I know it’s just my old neighbour, but I’m running out of time, and she loves to talk. Without waiting for my answer, she launches into the monologue she thinks is a dialogue. I try my best with the ah’s and mhm’s, and I’m fairly sure I manage to nod in the right places, but really have no idea what she’s talking about.

I keep glancing over my shoulder, hoping for nothing and expecting the worst. A couple of minutes later my heart stops. He’s walking confidently in my direction. I’m not sure he’s seen me yet, but I’m not giving him a chance. I make a vague excuse, something about my bus leaving, and hurry towards the side door in a final attempt to shake him.

It’s futile, I know. He’s heading to the bus stop too, and then he’s gonna see what line I take, or worse: get on the same bus.

I can’t think clearly. The world around me swims before my eyes. All that’s in my head is getting away, getting to safety.

There’s a small crowd waiting at the platform, but all of them are either younger than me, or older than me by quite a margin. There’s no way in hell I’ll be able to blend in and disappear.

My pulse increases again. I know that in the few seconds I spent assessing my possibilities, he’s closer than ever. I throw a quick glance over my shoulder and spot a red shirt under a brown leather jacket through the window.

With quick steps I duck behind a wall, peering around the edge. He hasn’t come out yet. Maybe he’s looking inside still. My brain frizzes, and I start looking for other opportunities.

My eyes fall on two guys standing near an old car on the corner. They’re both big and serious looking, but in my mind they look nice. Or maybe just decent. Yup. I’m getting desperate.

Before I can really grasp what I’m doing, and with a final glace towards the door – he’s still not there – I set course over the small square.

As I get closer, I slow down. What the hell am I thinking? They could be serial killers for all I know, but it’s too late now. It’s too obvious that I’m heading their way, and they’ve already seen me.

“H-hi.” My voice is weaker than I expected. The sudden difference brings tears to my eyes, and my throat constricts. The only sounds coming from me are pathetic squeaks.

“Hello,” the tallest of them says, shooting a look at the other. My brain is too scrambled to decipher it.

“Can we help you?” the other one asks. His voice is low and gruff, and holds a fair bit of authority.

I can’t breathe, but I try anyway, and the words come out all jumbled and fast and weird. “Hi. Yes, you… Man, stay with you just… the bus, until the bus, I don’t –“

The first man looks down at me with kind, hazel eyes. He really is taller than should be allowed. “Breathe,” he says. “Slow down.”

My ears are roaring, I can barely hear a thing, and my neck feels like it’s about to explode, but I force myself to focus. A glance over my shoulder: still no sign of him. They both follow my gaze, and I take a deep breath, letting the air out again slowly. “There’s a man… he’s following me. I’m scared.” That’s coherent enough, right? My heart speeds up again. I feel sick. “Can I… stay with you for a… until my next bus?” Or until he’s gone, I think, but I can’t say it.

I look back as I speak and all noise disappears. He’s on his way through the revolving door, and I automatically shrink down, trying to make myself smaller than I am. It’s hopeless. He’s gonna see me, and then he’ll come over and… A tear rolls down my cheek and I let out a tiny sob.

The two men move as one, stepping closer to each other. The tallest of them moves in front of me, shielding me with his massive body, and the other man scans the direction I look. Tall Guy’s mouth moves, but I can’t hear anything but the thump, thump from my heart as I watch my stalker walk slowly, deliberately over the platform; his eyes constantly moving. I lean back, flatten myself against the cold metal of the car. Time stands still.

A faint mumble reaches through the thumping, and I look up. “Who?” the kind eyes ask.

“Red… shirt, brown jacket,” I squeak.

“Don’t look at him,” the other man whispers. “You’ll draw his attention. We’ll let you know when he’s gone.”

I nod, and force myself to not look. Instead I look up, into Tall Guy’s face. He’s got pretty, soft features, but there’s an edge there, a twitch in his jaw, and a glint in his eyes that makes my skin crawl.

It disappears when he gives me a gentle smile. “I’m Sam,” he offers, holding out his hand. I look at it, but don’t shake it. At least I have the sense to say my name. “You need to breathe,” he continues. “Else you’re gonna faint.  Breathe with me. In… and out.”

I do my best to follow, and after a few breaths my hearing returns in full. There’s too much noise now: engines and people and car alarms and sirens. I squeeze my eyes shut. “Is he still there?”

“Yes,” says the gruff voice.

“Dean,” Sam says, a warning in his voice.

The step even closer, and I can’t see anything, but I feel the heat radiating from Sam. Something is clearly going on, because he kinda puffs himself up, so I try to be even smaller. It’s hard, and panic is threatening to overcome me again.

We stand like that for a moment, a human sandwich filled with dread, and I hold my breath as if that makes me invisible. Sam and Dean talk about trivial stuff. Maybe they’re trying to distract me. If so, it’s working. A bit. Apparently Dean has been meaning to do some work on his car, and Sam asks if he can please install a jack – he’s sick of listening to the same five cassette tapes.

That makes me snort, and the shadow of a glorious smile flits over his face. Dean, on the other hand, looks like he wants to slap Sam in the head.

After what feels like an eternity, they move back. “He boarded the bus,” Dean says softly. “He’s gone.”

I exhale loudly. My tears have dried on my face, and I grimace to loosen up. Suddenly I feel so very tired, and my knees buckle.

A strong arm shoots out from one side, keeping me from collapsing to the ground. “Hey, you okay? You look a bit pale.”

I feel a bit pale. I nod, but I don’t have the strength to stay upright. They grab one arm each and guide me to the curb, slowly lowering me down. The sweat on my back is beginning to dry, and I shiver from the cold.

“We got you,” Dean says, feeling my forehead with the back of his hand. “Put your head down between your knees. There you go.”

I do as I’m told, and almost immediately feel better.

Sam sits down beside me, holding a hand on my back to keep me from tilting backwards, and Dean squats in front of me.

I look up and smile, finally calm enough to mutter a feeble “Thank you.”

“Not at all,” Sam replies. He frowns. “Um… Can I ask you something?”

“Mhm.” I nod affirmatively.

“Why did you come to us? I mean, it’s not problem, I’m just curious why you…” He trails off, and I offer a sheepish smile.

“I just picked the most scary-looking guys here. Guess I was just lucky you were nice too.”

Dean chuckles. “You’re right there,” he says, looking at Sam. “Sasquatch here could frighten a ghost! Listen, you look like you’ve been through hell. I’m thinking you need some pie. Hell, I know I need some. You don’t happen to know someplace that sells a good…”

Sam groans. “Dean! She just hid from a stalker. She doesn’t want us to bother her.”

Actually, he’s wrong. “I don’t want to be alone just yet,” I mutter. “Don’t think I’m ready to go home right now. And I know a good place for pie too. Just down the road. They have the most amazing pecan pie you’ve ever tasted.”

Dean grins. “Awesome! A girl of my heart.” He thinks for a moment. “You know this town pretty good, huh?”

“Yeah. Grew up here. It’s really a nice place, give or take a few rotten apples.”

Sam rubs his neck. He looks like a lost puppy despite his size. “Well, we’re new here. Job stuff, you know. And we could really use a guide. If you want to. If not, that’s –“

“Sure,” I say before I can think, a smile creeping over my face. “It’s not much to see around here, but at least I’ll show you the best pie in the state.”

Tagging people if you’re still interested in my stories:

@orpheus-aeiou​  @funwithfanfics @babeinthebowtie @savingapplepie-eatingthings​ @winchesterprincessbride​ @savvythedork​ @littlegreenplasticsoldier​ @youtubehelpsmesurvive​ @blackcherrywhiskey​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @schwarzwaelder-kirschtorte​ @aiaranradnay​ @fandomismyspiritanimal​ @barneybrigade​  @mogaruke​ @wstrumpel​ @whovianextrodinare​ @hennessy0274-blog​ @sushi-senpai-chan @tardis-is-mine​ @badasssweetsrebel @jensensjaredsandmishaslover​ @megasimpleplan4ever​ @wh1sp3r1ng-impala @80percentmarvel​

[backpfeifenguy]

All in Your Head Chapter 3

WARNING! This chapter contains violence, a villain threatening sexual assault, and suicidal ideation. If that is likely to seriously upset you or cause a panic attack or similar, maybe give this one a miss. So then, just going to lie in bed all day, huh? Makes sense, I guess. You always were a coward, after all. Go ahead man; wallow in your own self-pity, god knows everyone else pities you. It had been 36 hours since Beast Boy got dumped. Since then, he’d only left his room to use the bathroom. The only reason he’d eaten anything was because the other Titans left food outside his door, which he picked at, more out of a sense of obligation than anything else. Keep it up; eventually they’ll give up on you and just let you starve. (no) Bound to happen sooner or later. They’ll probably tell themselves they’re just trying to coax you out so they can talk to you, but they’ll know what they’re doing.

“Hey Grass Stain!” Cyborg bellowed from outside the door. “You up for a game?”

“No thanks!” Beast Boy shouted back.

“How ‘bout a movie? Or, like, anything?”

“I think I’ll pass!” Beast Boy answered.

“You know we’re here for you, right B?” Bullshit! They don’t care how you really feel, they just want you to go back to pretending that you’re okay. After all, what’s the point of keeping a clown around if he’s not even good for a laugh?

“You wanna talk about it?” Cyborg asked.

“Not really, no!”

“You sure?”

“...Not really, no!” Seriously? You’re too much of a coward to even stand by your cowardice?

“Okay well, if you change your mind, let us know. I’m worried about you, B.” He’s lying! They only pretend to care about you! You’re not loved, you’re tolerated.

“...Thanks.” Beast Boy said in a small voice. “I will.” Seriously? You’re going to make yourself their problem even more than usual? Pathetic. Suddenly, noise filled the corridor and lights flashed red. Oh, would you look at that? Crime! So, will you be useless in here or out there? Either way it’s your fault (no) if somebody gets hurt. After a moment, Beast Boy grit his teeth and leapt to his feet. Good choice; maybe this time you’ll get yourself killed and they won’t have to deal with you any more.

Adonis. Control Freak had been bad. Because he somehow managed to kick your ass, or because he reminds you of your own pathetic loserdom? Mad Mod would have been a pain. Because every time you fight him you get hypnotised, making you marginally less useful than usual. Slade would have been a nightmare. Mister brainwash-yo-girl. Great way to remember what a failure you are. But somehow, Adonis managed to muscle his way right up to the top of his list of things he didn’t want to deal with. And for some reason, he was attacking a sandwich shop.

“Okay Adonis, I’ll bite.” Robin sighed. “Why are you attacking a sandwich shop?”

“Because it’s no different than a brothel!” Adonis sneered. “It’s a place where men pay a stranger to do the job their wives should!”

“Hey Beast Boy,” Raven smirked. “What do you call a guy who makes ‘get in the kitchen’ jokes?”

“Single.” Beast Boy quipped.

“What was that?!” Adonis roared, hurling a vending machine in Beast Boy’s general direction.

“You heard me!” Beast Boy yelled as he ducked under the machine. Yeah, fuck this guy! “How about you take your frail little ego out of your ears and listen for a change, you insecure dumbass?” Don’t let up, keep piling on the insults! And just like that, Adonis was in face.

“You’re gonna wish you’d kept your mouth shut, you little bitch!” Adonis snarled, swinging wildly at Beast Boy. Wait, did you seriously just shit-talk the guy who can bend you into a pretzel even before the upgrades that have apparently made him way faster? Nobody has ever deserved anything as much as you deserve this beatdown.

Beast Boy managed to dodge the first blow by turning into a beetle, but was left open to the follow-up which sent him flying into the nearest wall. Oh wow, is he a little stronger than last time? Nice.Well, not so nice for you, I guess. Or maybe it is; after all, at least this way you (shut up) have an excuse when you get beaten like a pro athlete’s wife.

“Not so smart now, are you?” Adonis smirked.

“Smarter than you.” Beast Boy shot back without thinking. What the hell is wrong with you?! Adonis drew his fist back, ready to deliver the killing blow, and…

*WHAM!*

“You will step away from friend Beast Boy if you value the continued use of your extremities.” Starfire warned, having side-swiped Adonis. Oh look; she had to bail you out.

“I like a girl with spirit.” Adonis leered, lunging at Starfire.

“And I like a villain who leaves himself open.” Robin quipped, hurling a trio of explosive Birdarangs.

“You too?” Cyborg chuckled, barrelling into the armoured creep from the other side. “We got a lot in common, Rob!” Hot damn! They’re really killing it. Beast Boy quickly transformed into a bull and charged, only for Adonis to grab him by the horns and hurl him at Raven. Annnd there it goes. You ruined it. Shit, it’s just a miracle you turned back before you hit Raven, otherwise you might have killed her. She wouldn’t have been the first girl to die (stop) because of you.

“And would you look at that?” Adonis crowed. “A two-for-one sale on Titans!”

“You will keep your hands off of my friends!” Starfire snarled, launching a flying kick… that Adonis caught in one hand.

“I wasn’t talking about them.” Adonis replied cooly, swinging Starfire into Cyborg with enough force to leave her unconscious and him… broken would probably be the best word. “Incidentally, remind me to thank Calculator for this program he whipped up. Worth every penny.” Robin came in high, staff swinging, rage twisting his features, and lay into Adonis. “Seriously? The people with actual super-strength couldn’t get through my armor, but you think you can because you’ve got a stick?” Adonis backhanded Robin into the counter, shattering the glass and knocking him into the various cheeses.

“Hey there Rae, you doin’ alright?” Beast Boy asked softly. Nope. She is very clearly unconscious, thanks to you. Hit her head on a table. Might even have a little brain damage, so thanks for that. “Okay, guess I’m on my own.” Beast Boy sighed.

“So, what’s the plan, little man?” Adonis snickered, strolling forward. “You ain’t getting any help in the next minute or two, and I think we both know you don’t have what it takes to fight me on your own.” (yes you do) No you don’t. “So how about this? I let you take three of your friends home, and you leave me one of the girls to play with.” For those who haven’t guessed, that was unwise.

A few facts occurred to Beast Boy in quick succession. Fact: no matter how good your armor is, after getting nailed by a heavy hit from Starfire, tackled by Cyborg and hit with three explosive Birdarangs it’s going to have some battle damage. Fact: an amoeba can be as small as 250 microns. Fact: armor doesn’t do much against threats once they’re inside it. Fact: wasp stings hurt like hell. No. Not wasp. Fire ants have an excruciatingly painful-- more. The bullet ant’s bite hurts as much as getting shot-- Remember what he just said. What he did. What he'll do. The Irukandji. A species found only in the waters surrounding Australia, the Irukandji jellyfish is believed to have the most painful sting of any animal on Earth; a sting so agonising that those who fall victim to it will sometimes beg to be killed. Yes. Do it. (no) Yes! (Irukandji kills) The sting of an Irukandji jellyfish causes fatal brain hemorrhages. He deserves to die! (you deserve to kill?) Not the Irukandji.

There has always been, among those of a zoological bent, the temptation to exaggerate certain details. Is a bird’s plumage really as beautiful as its discoverer claimed? A badger’s temperament as bloody-minded? An insect’s bite as painful? Not always. But a purple-backed starling’s plumage is one of the prettiest sights in nature. Badgers, and indeed mustelids of all stripe are vicious bastards, mostly because they’re too slow to ever run from a fight. And the bullet ant’s bite really does hurt as much as a gunshot wound. Which is why Adonis, mere moments away from crushing Robin’s head like an egg, began to scream.

There, doesn’t that sound nice? Bite him again. Adonis began to scream louder, and after a few seconds of scratching sounds, Beast Boy could feel the open air, which could only mean that Adonis had started ripping his armor off. One more, for luck? (stop) Remember what he wanted to do to the girls? (...) Yeah, thought so. Actually, you know what? Maybe you should just change back and start beating the shit out of him now that he’s ditched the armor. Make sure everyone knows you beat him.

Slowly, Starfire opened her eyes, her head pounding like a Tamaranian hunting drum. Adonis would pay; for hurting her friends and for using her as a club. Such actions were not easily forgiven, even from a man screaming in pain, in a heap on the floor, with his armor strewn haphazardly about the room and Beast Boy beating him black and blue, as the human expression went. Wait, what?

“Not so tough now, are you?” Beast Boy snarled, kicking the fallen foe in in the stomach hard enough to make him dry-heave.

“Friend Beast Boy, I believe he has been subdued.” Apparently she hadn’t been clear enough, as Beast Boy wound up another kick that sent teeth sliding across the floor.

“This is what happens when you hurt my friends!” Beast Boy howled, slamming Adonis’ face into the floor repeatedly. “This is what you get!”

“Friend Beast Boy, stop!” Starfire said, rather more insistently, as she staggered over to her friend. “You risk taking his life! Do you wish to be the killer?”

“Yes!” Beast Boy snarled as he turned to face her, the look on his face enough to make Starfire back away. It occurred to her that, in his current state, she might not be able to talk him down, and that she wasn’t certain she could bring herself to fight him if it came to that.

Beast Boy!” Robin’s voice rang out as he dragged himself to his feet. “Stand down.” Beast Boy froze for a moment, and it seemed to Starfire like he may have come to his senses, but after a moment he simply glared at Robin as he stepped on the fallen villain’s wrist which, Starfire noticed, already appeared to be quite badly broken. “I said stand down!”

“And I didn’t listen!” Beast Boy roared back. “You didn’t hear him; you were unconscious in a tub of cheddar when he told me to leave him one of the girls to play with!” Starfire felt a brief surge of nausea; it occurred to her that Adonis would fit in well with the Gordanians. “If you want me to stop, you’ll have to make me!”

“Beast Boy.” Raven’s voice was weak, and a little unsteady. “Stop.”  Beast Boy seemed uncertain for a second. “Please.” And just like that, all the tension seemed to evaporate.

“Okay.” Beast Boy sighed, his shoulders slumping. “I’ll stop.”

“Broken nose.” Robin scowled. “Fractured jaw; four teeth knocked out, six chipped.”

“I’m really sor--” Beast Boy began.

“Hairline fracture to the orbital socket.” Robin went on, stonefaced. “Five cracked ribs, shattered wrist, three broken fingers.”

“I know I was out of--”

“Hairline fracture to one vertebra. Concussion. Various contusions, abrasions and internal bleeding.” He narrowed his eyes. “Currently unidentified toxin in his bloodstream. Two insect bites.”

“I’m sorry.” Beast Boy said, after waiting moment to be certain that Robin was done. “I was out of line.” Way out of line. If you’re lucky he’ll just kick you off the team.

“What were the bug bites?” Robin demanded.

“Bullet ant.” Beast Boy muttered. “Hurts as much as a bullet.” Yeah, he’s probably going to have you arrested.

“Enter the armour through a damaged area and bite or sting him as an insect.” Robin said thoughtfully. “Not a bad idea.” But… “But your choice of bug was excessive. This is Adonis we’re talking about; a wasp would have been enough.” And that’s without even mentioning the beating. “And the beating you gave him was completely uncalled for. You could have killed him, what were you thinking?”

“I don’t know.” Beast Boy whimpered.

“Were you even thinking at all?”

“I don’t know.”

“Look,” Robin sighed. “I understand that you were in a stressful situation. But you can’t just lay into someone like that when they can’t fight back. You’re suspended from active duty until further notice.”

“Understood.” Beast Boy sighed. Seriously? That’s all?

“I won’t be pursuing any harsher disciplinary actions as long as you behave yourself; it was a difficult situation.” Ah. He’s going easy on you because he never expected anything better in the first place. “Dismissed.”

It had been two weeks since Beast Boy was suspended from active duty. Two weeks since you nearly beat a man to death, and loved (no) it. An extremely busy two weeks for the others; it was like there was something in the water riling the crooks up, and they’d been out everyday to deal with something. And apparently, they haven’t had any issues without you. He hadn’t been able to help them much at all; he couldn’t do forensics because he was too damn stupid. Couldn’t canvas witnesses because you’re too ugly; either you make people uncomfortable or they (stop) don’t take you seriously. Just about all he could do to help was search up the occasional file or map and you can barely even do that right, you worthless little turd.

He’d basically isolated himself from the others. Two weeks alone. But isn’t that how it always is? You always end up alone, sooner or later. And it’s nobody’s fault but (shut up) yours. Your parents (no) died because you were too weak and cowardly to save them. The Doom Patrol kicked you out (they didn’t) because you were a liability. Terra (stop) died because you let her down. You’re alone because it’s what you deserve. Before too long, the Titans are going to join the list (never), so you might as well get ready for that. Either they’ll kick you out or they’ll die because of your fuck-ups, so really it’s just a matter of where you put your money before betting closes.

Hazily, Beast Boy realised that he’d made his way to the roof. Jump. Just fucking do it. He took (no) a step forward. Nobody will ever miss you. And (stop) another. Every second you’re alive puts everyone you care about in danger. A third step put him (don’t do this) right at the edge. Come on, do it! End the pain, end the loneliness! It’s almost over, all you need to do is take one little step, so DO IT! He extended his leg, and… CEASE THIS FUCKERY!!! For a moment, his thoughts seemed clearer, and he leapt back, shocked by how close he’d been, terrified to contemplate what would have happened without the intervention of this new and unfamiliar voice is his head.

New? Unfamiliar? Have you no gratitude, boy? I am far from new. You’ve known me for years. When you were bitten, infected with Sakutia, who was it that gave you the strength to endure the pain of that experimental treatment you parents concocted? When they died, who cut through the sorrow and pushed you to survive? Who held your mind together through the thieves, through Galtry and Doctor Register? Who helped you keep pace with the Doom Patrol? And when Raven was attacked by that loathsome creature, who gave you the strength to save her?

The Beast. If referring to me as such simplifies matters then feel free. But do you know what I am? Really? The question seemed bizarre; it was the Beast, what else was there to know? Exactly! Just a big dumb animal! Ignore it! Be silent, intruder! I am your instincts, boy! I am the part of you that keeps every other part of you alive! Impossible, the Beast was an accident, a chemical spill. I existed long before I was the Beast, boy! I was within you from the very beginning. When you became what you are I grew stronger, bolstered by the voices of the animal kingdom. Those chemicals merely gave me more options, a physical form and a degree of sophistication. This was too much to take in all at once; the Beast wasn’t just the Beast? Why was it speaking to him? How? What did it want? To protect you as I always have, and right now that means doing something about the intruder that has taken up residence in your mind!

An intruder? What was the Beast talking about? It’s lying! Don’t listen! That! That’s the intruder! That wretched little voice isn’t meant to be here! But it had always-- Not like this. You must excise this parasite immediately, before it does any more damage! But how? Who could possibly help him with something like this?

Raven’s head felt like it had been stuffed with lint, her eyelids  may as well have been made of lead, and various parts of her body were threatening to give notice; the last two weeks had been rough. The simple fact of the matter was that they needed Beast Boy, but they couldn’t put him back on active duty until he’d undergone a psychological evaluation. Which they didn’t have time for because the criminals of Jump city had gotten so bold. Because they didn’t have a full team to worry about. And besides how difficult things had been, there was the simple fact that she’d gone two weeks without any sort of meaningful interaction with a friend she was used to seeing every day. She hadn’t realised how important Beast Boy’s terrible jokes were until they stopped, and she wasn’t entirely sure how to process it.  

“I can work it out in the morning.” Raven muttered to herself. *THUNK THUNK THUNK* “Or not. This had better be good.” She scowled as her door opened.

“Hey, uh Rae?” Beast Boy half-squeaked, his expression haggard. “I think I need your help.”

[transdonaldduck]

The Witness (1/1(?))

Fandom: Darkwing Duck (focus on an OC) Pairings: Gen Characters: Wade Whittaker (OC-centric), Fearsome Five, Darkwing Duck, Gosalyn Mallard, Launchpad McQuack Summary: Wade Whittaker, an insomniac, is at the wrong place at the wrong time and ends up being chased by some of the most ferocious villains in St. Canard.

Wade Whittaker liked to think of himself as a work in progress. The rest of his family, however, like to think of him as ‘unemployed’ or ‘a deadbeat’ but Wade tended to ignore calls from his mom so he really didn’t get that as much anymore. He made enough picking up odd jobs to live in an old rundown apartment off of Charleston street, a stone’s throw away from the cemetery and a fifteen minute walk from the nearest Hamburger Hippo. The walls were a little discolored and the heater often broke intermittently during the winter but it was home, and Wade found that the landlord was a bit more lenient on rent deadlines when he could afford to be.

The reason he often lost jobs was because of his clumsiness, and his rampant and untamable insomnia that left him wide awake at night but uselessly exhausted during the day. He’d picked up night jobs before (he tended to, well, Not excell per say, but do marginally okay) like groundskeeping at the cemetery or working the cash register at 24 hour convenience store. He’d managed to work the convenience store for almost a year before his boss had cut hours to save money- making him half time instead of full time and costing him half his paycheck.

Having worked nightly for a year, coupled with his chronic insomnia- well, it meant it was 2 am and Wade was awake and restless. He often shrugged on his hoodie, grabbed his glasses, and took a leisurely stroll around town. Though recently Wade had been… unable to leave his apartment. Not in the sense that he was trapped, but in the sense that he was cornered.

“Wade, Wade, Wade,” He groaned, flopping back on his squeaky mattress and staring blearily up at the ceiling, “How do you get yourself into these situations?”

The situation being the fact that Negaduck, St. Canards number one bad guy, had it out for him personally. You see, his insomnia often drove him out at random, unlucky times of the night. He’d seen a lot of things in his time in the city- including walking in on crimes in progress. He’d barely managed to stay under the radar for this long thanks to the terror that flaps in the night, who usually managed to command all the villains attention leaving Wade time to escape the way he’d come and live to walk in on another crime the next night. Recently, however, he’d been the unwitting witness to the fearsome fives most recent meeting- one where they discussed plans for their upcoming nefarious plot.

They’d broken into Adam’s Jewelers on First Street. Wade knew Stacy, the owner. They’d gone to college together until he had dropped out in sophomore year, but she was still a good… acquaintance? And he sometimes dropped in to catch up. He’d been on another late night walk when he passed her shop, only stopping because the lights were on. He knew she usually closed early, but figured she might have extended store hours to work on the upcoming shipment of precious stones she had told him about last time they spoke. Deciding to offer a hello and an offer to grab her some coffee, Wade had ducked in the unlocked door and walked inside.

He’d made his way behind the counter, intending on opening the back door and peeking inside when the door opened and Negaduck himself stepped out. He had a sack thrown over his shoulder and he was walking backward, facing the rest of the villains in his squad and talking to them.

“Our next move is to isolate him from his sidekick, it won’t be hard if he thinks it’s a routine bank robbery.” He explains, and Wade wishes he had the superpower to turn invisible because that would be extremely helpful at this point- but the other four have already taken notice of him, and it’s looked like he was about to be toast.

Negaduck, having noticed his lackeys eyes looking past him, spun around to face whoever they were looking at. Wade was sure he didn’t look intimidating other than being about half a foot taller than Nega. He was currently shaking like a leaf and inching towards the exit.

“How much did you hear?” Was the first thing out of the supervillains mouth, eyes narrowing to slits before he shook his head, “It doesn’t matter, I’ll kill you anyway.” He turned his head to the side, “Fearsome Five- get him.”

Megavolt, the one directly behind him, is the first one to step forward. An arc of electricity trails after his hand as he raises it, and with a simple flick of his wrist lightning explodes out of his palm and Wade decides that getting fried by raw electricity is maybe not on the top of his to do list. He throws himself sideways over the counter, catching his hip hard on the glass case but skillfully avoiding the death ray. He doesn’t manage to catch his balance quick enough to land on his feet but does transition it into a tight roll. He takes a moment to catch his breath as the electricity strikes the cash register he had been standing in front of and turned it into a ball of flame and metal shrapnel.

About two years ago when Parkour had been at it’s height, Wade had attempted to get into the sport. He’d gone to a few of the free classes some passionate free-runner named Leaf had hosted at the park, but after the third meeting where he scraped his knee and cried for fifteen minutes he hadn’t made another appearance- tho he appreciates what little he did know, as the fall could have been much worse if not for how he’d learned to recover from it.

The explosion triggered the store alarms to go off, and the Fearsome Five seemed to panic- They scattered, but Negaduck rounded the edge of the counter after Wade, not intending to let him go with what important information he had eavesdropped on. Wade scrambled to his feet, running out the door and taking a hard left. Never in his entire life would he have ever imagined that he would be personally pursued by a supervillain, and he was almost tempted to stop and pinch himself to see if he were just dreaming- but he wasn’t, the aching pain in his hip was enough proof of that, so he kept moving.

One pro to restlessly prowling the streets was that you learned a few things, tips and tricks, and which alleyways led where- So wade began cutting around bends, climbing up and over trashcans, sliding through holes in fences, and taking shortcuts between cars to put as much distance between him and his pursuer. He kept up this random and confusing trail until he reached his apartment building, reasonably sure he’d lost him, and darting up to his apartment, slamming and locking the door behind him.

It was only then, in the safety of his dark apartment that he’d relaxed enough to start feeling his injuries he’d gotten while on the run. He didn’t dare flip on his livingroom light, too afraid his window would give away his location, and popped into his bathroom to clean up. Where he’d caught his hip at the jewelry store, a huge bruise was starting to form. He’s fallen several times, scraping his hands and knees up on asphalt and concrete. His nerves were on high alert and the pain seemed distant even now, he felt fine. Well, as fine as one could be after unwittingly stumbling upon five dangerous criminals and now, subsequently, being on their hitlist.

That had been two days ago, and Wade hadn’t left his apartment since. He couldn’t risk getting caught by any of those after him. He was a nervous wreck, any groan of the pipes or creak of the old building made him jump out of his skin. He was constantly on high vigilance, and it was taking a toll. He’d just been an insomniac before, now he could add anxious and paranoid to that mix. He hadn’t been able to sleep a wink.

He watches the sun rise on another sleepless night. The curtains are only open a crack, and a thin stripe of sunlight cuts across his dingy carpet. He needed to get help. It was an option he’d considered, but at first he wasn’t sure how he’d find Darkwing Duck at night faster than the Fearsome Five would find him, but maybe he didn’t need to find Darkwing Duck…

He stands up, pulls his long hair back into a semi-respectable bun, and grabs his keys. Daytime didn’t mean he was safe, but if he stuck to the more well-populated streets and kept his head down he hopefully wouldn’t attract too much attention. This would be a long trip, he lived in the heart of the city, but it would be worth it for some help.

He’d run into quite a few characters on his trek, but the last door he’d knocked on had actually been of some help. Herb Muddlefoot and his wife Binkie were… an experience, to say the least. Not bad per say, but certainly overwhelming, and willing to share happily with a complete stranger. They’d basically dragged him inside for pie and a chat, talking about their two young sons and their neighborhood. They’d made him take a slice “for the road” despite his destination being a the house next door.

It was a quaint little home, nothing special. Two stories, yellow, typical in every way. Wade knocked three times on the door, waiting as patiently as he could with the saran-wrapped pie in one hand. He hears a crash, a muffled shout, and then the door swung open.

“I already told you Herb-” The Duck at the door starts to snap, but the words die on his tongue and he blinks owlishly at Wade, obviously expecting someone else. Behind him are two kids, one with a mop of vibrant orange hair pulled back into pigtails and another in thick glasses. The girl was holding a hockey stick and looking sheepish mixed with curious as she strained to get a good look at the visitor on her doorstep. Gosalyn mallard, if Wade’s memory proved correct- she’d been in the paper with Darwing Duck Once or twice.

Sticking his head out of the kitchen, Launchpad McQuack quirked a brow, “Who’s at the door?” He asked, and Wade recognized him instantly as Darkwings sidekick.

“I don’t know,” The duck in front of him frowned, “Are you new to the neighborhood?”

Wade almost laughed. What a mundane question. “Uh- no, no.” He stuck out his free hand, “My name is Wade Whittaker.”

“Drake Mallard,” He introduces, automatically shaking his hand.

Wade let’s go, casting a glance over his shoulder, “I’m pretty sure I haven’t been followed- but the reason I came here is because I need your help.”

Drake’s face turns serious and he nods automatically, “Of course, what can I-” he stops short, as if just remembering something, “I mean, why do you need my help?”

Frowning, Wade blinked at him, “You’re Darkwing Duck.” He say simply, a statement of fact.

The entire household looks like they’ve just been slapped, and Wade hopes they’ll invite him inside since he feels a little exposed out here.