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luxaofhesperides · 6 months

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We Are Robins meeting to Signal apprehending Danny ; requested by @zylev-blog!

“Hey, Danny. How are you feeling?”

Danny gives Duke a tired smile, his head falling back against the wall. He’s sitting up today, which is good. It’s definitely an improvement from the many days Danny was unable to do much but lie down and grit his teeth through the pain as Duke checked on the gunshot wound. It’s a good thing Danny’s a meta with a healing factor, or nothing Duke could have done would have saved him.

As it is, the wound was severe enough to keep Danny vulnerable and unable to move on his own without making it worse. Though Duke has looked, he hasn’t had any luck in finding whoever did this to Danny. He hasn’t brought it up to the rest of the We Are Robin gang, but only because Danny only let him help if he kept it between the two of them.

What’s another secret? If it lets him stay close to Danny and make sure he’s healing well, then he’ll keep quiet and carry on the search by himself. He’s got plenty of practice in doing things on his own.

“Busy out there?” Danny asks as Duke sits down next to him, dropping his backpack onto the ground.

“Yeah, it’s tough with the cops after us, but someone needs to help Gotham and with Batman gone…”

A pained expression crossed Danny’s face. Eyeing him carefully, Duke opened his backpack and pulled out a few protein bars and sports drinks for him. Once Danny takes them and began eating one, Duke takes out the first aid kit, always kept at the bottom of the backpack, and sets it in front of Danny.

The most he can do is offer supplies and company at this stage of Danny’s healing. He gets twitchy and tense when Duke tries to tend to his wound, and seems to have plenty of practice in patching himself up.

He didn’t answer when Duke commented on it once, so Duke let the matter drop.

Metas may have legal protection, but that doesn’t stop people from targeting them. Duke has no intention of pushing Danny into remembering unpleasant things while he’s already wounded, hiding out in the upper corner of an abandoned warehouse taken over by a group of homeless people. Most aren’t inside during the day, choosing instead to be out with the rest of the city, which leaves them alone.

Duke keeps an eye on the ground floor of the warehouse, making sure no one comes in while Danny tends to his wound. When he peeks back, he can see that it’s much smaller than it was the night Duke found him, crawling down an alley with one hand clutching his side, tears slipping down his face. There had been so much blood that Duke was sure he had just stumbled upon someone dying and froze, horrified.

And then a shout down the road prompted him to move, hauling Danny up and helping him into the warehouse to hide.

For a normal person, if it didn’t kill them, the wound would still be raw and bleeding, larger than any gunshot wound he’s seen before. But Danny’s wound is closing up quickly, no longer bleeding, the edges a healing pink.

It doesn’t look like it’s going to scar, either.

“Think it’ll be all healed up by the end of the week?”

Danny glances up, then continues covering it with new bandage, large enough to cover the entire wound. “Hopefully,” he says. “Then I’ll be out of your hair and can figure out a way to get home.”

“Your folks gonna look out for you?”

“Probably. I’m not planning on telling them, though, since they’ll get way too overprotective. The only reason they’re not tearing Gotham apart looking for me is because I came here with my godfather and he told them we’d be gone for two weeks. Can’t believe he tried to kill me on day one…”

“Your godfather tried to kill you?”

“Yeah. Not personally, or anything, but he definitely hired the guy who shot me. Though he also yelled at him for shooting me? Not sure what that’s about, but I never trusted the guy and he didn’t try to help me afterwards when I ran away, so. You know.”

Duke wants to have a conversation with Danny’s godfather. Maybe bring the other Robins along to make sure the message sinks in: Don’t touch Danny.

But Danny, acting so casual about his godfather trying to kill him, would be unhappy about it, and Duke would really rather be able to take care of him than be shut out for trying to take control of the situation.

“Shit, man, that sucks,” he offers, instead of prying for details so he can hunt down his godfather. “You want a hug or something? I can’t really do much else, but if it can make you feel better about all this…”

Danny brightens and shoves the first aid kit away, his shirt (one of Duke’s old ones he offered up to replace the bloodstained one) falling to cover the bandage. “Please. I would love a hug, dude, I don’t remember the last time I felt so lonely.”

Carefully, Duke wraps his arms around Danny, leaning back so Danny could relax fully and not worry about holding himself up. Danny sighs into the hug, going fully limp as he drops his forehead onto Duke’s shoulder.

“Thanks for this. And everything,” Danny says some time later. He doesn’t move to pull away, so Duke stays as he is, watching the weak sunlight slowly move across the warehouse as it spills in from dirty windows.

“You don’t need to thank me. I mean, I’m a Robin.” He brings up a hand to tap a finger against the R embroidered into his jacket. “It’s what we’re here for.”

It’s been years since he saw Danny. After he was fully healed, Duke helped him get to city limits, watching as he boarded a bus and disappeared down the road, leaving his life just as suddenly as he entered it.

After spending so much time together, quiet hours of stillness just looking out for each other, his life feels emptier without Danny in it. He knew it wouldn’t last, that Danny would go home eventually, but it didn’t make the parting any easier.

Even now, as Signal, taking a break from going on missions with the Outsiders to spend some time with the Bats, his thoughts drift towards Danny, wondering if he’s alright. In his darker moments, he wonders if Danny’s godfather has tried to kill him again, if he’s succeeded. In calmer, happier moments, he remembers Danny’s quiet stories about his family, his town, all his dreams and hopes for the future, remembers the easy company and how Danny didn’t look at him with pity when talked about his parents, just quiet and contemplative.

Sometimes, he can’t resist the urge to look him up, but there are so many Danny’s out there that he doesn’t know where to start. He never got Danny’s last name or learned when he came from.

It’s not like he can just ask the Bats for help finding a guy he knew for two weeks before he ever joined them. They’re all busy with their own missions, and definitely don’t have time for Duke’s reminiscing.

“Just caught sight of the truck entering city limits,” Oracle says in his ear. “It’s heading towards the Coventry.”

“On it. Any movement from the mobs?”

“None yet. I expect this to change soon. Red Hood and Black Bat are patrolling nearby if you need backup.”

“Got it. Signal out.”

His comline shuts with a little click, and then he’s grappling over the roof tops, keeping an eye on the roads in search of the truck. He doesn’t have time to think of Danny anymore, not when a shipment of new, experimental weapons is passing through Gotham. Spoiler had heard a few whispers of it and Red Robin helped find more solid details; the mobs are all looking to take the shipment for themselves in an attempt to get the upper hand in the nonstop fight for control of Gotham’s streets.

It’s passing through during the day, visible and a good move to keep from being ambushed at night, but it’s not enough to stop mobs hoping to take out their competition with new weapons. Duke enters the Coventry just as his comline beeps once and Oracle begins giving him specific directions, along with a brief description of what the truck looks like.

Apparently, the weapons are being moved in a U-Haul rental truck. That is… certainly a Choice™ to make for moving weapons around the country.

He follows it from the rooftops, but nothing happens. The truck passes through the Coventry without incident and takes a turn that keeps it away from Crime Alley and the Bowery. It gets to the middle of East End then pulls to a stop in the parking lot of a diner.

Two people get out and stretch, then head in to get something to eat.

It would be the perfect time for someone to break in. Duke pulls the light over himself, manipulating it to make him disappear from sight as he looks down from the edge of the rooftop, tense and prepared for anything.

He almost doesn’t see it at first. It’s just a flicker, a flash of color, a shift in the shadows across the street. But he does see it, even if he can’t find it again, and drops down from the roof, creeping towards the truck.

Duke waits, holding his breath, off to the side of the parking lot.

A minute passes. And then a figure materializes out of thin air, floating right behind the truck. All Duke can see is white hair and a black body suit; they’re either a meta or an alien, but either way, Duke is ready to take them down.

The figure lifts their hands and a bolt of neon green energy hits the truck, melting the back and leaving a large hole that gives them direct access to the weapons. And then they shoot again, destroying the weapons.

“Phantom!” someone shouts, and the truck driver comes tearing out of the restaurant, a white gun in his hand. His companion follows, her gun also out, and the begin shooting.

Phantom dodges the blasts, then vanishes from sight. He reappears behind them a moment later, tackling back of them into the side of the truck.

“No you don’t!” Duke say, rushing forward as he pulls at the shadows around him then sends them racing towards Phantom, restraining them. The driver and his companion collapse onto the ground, groaning weakly, and Duke grits his teeth. “O, send someone to look after the people moving the weapons. Apprehending an attacker now.”

He doesn’t wait to hear a response, tightening the shadow’s grip on Phantom, who struggles fiercely.

“We can do this the hard way, or the easy way,” he says, pulling Phantom closer to him.

Phantom doesn’t answer. They just scream, the force of it making Duke fall back. His shadows dissipate, and Phantom flies up.

“Get back here!”

Duke gives chase, dropping in and out of shadows, throwing some at Phantom in the hopes of catching him again. But Phantom is fast and it takes all he has to keep up as they cross Gotham.

He thought Phantom was flying around blindly, but the way they move across the roofs and then through the streets are too confident, too focused to be anything other than someone with a destination in mind. But where? Where could they be going? If they’ve been in Gotham, then Duke would have heard of them.

A flying, powerful meta with a multitude of powers? Yeah, he would have known about them.

Phantom flies through a wall and Duke curses, going onto the roof and looking around, waiting to see them fly out. But they don’t and Duke finds a broken skylight to drop in from, landing on the support beams of the warehouse, well above the ground.

He knows the warehouse, he realizes suddenly. It’s the warehouse Danny hid in while he was healing. Duke hasn’t been back in years.

“Just listen to me, please,” a voice says behind him, and Duke tense, spinning around to face Phantom, floating just out of reaching distance. “Those weapons are dangerous. No one should have them, it’s why I had to destroy them. Please, you can’t let them get those weapons out.”

Duke stares. Something about Phantom is familiar. The shape of his face, maybe. His voice. Maybe it’s just because he’s in the warehouse again, with someone pleading for his help.

Maybe it’s all in his mind.

“Danny?”

Phantom flinches, floating back a few inches. “What— How—”

“What happened? Is it your godfather again?”

“My— Duke? Is that you?!”

He definitely shouldn’t be doing this, but Danny’s here. Danny’s here in front of him, needing help, and he doesn’t need the Signal. He needs Duke.

He pulls off his helmet and lifts his bare face to Danny.

“Oh,” Danny breathes. “Well. I guess I should have known you’d be a hero. Can you help me one last time?”

“Yeah, of course Danny. Tell me what you need.”

“Those weapons, they were first made to kill me and others like me. It’s a whole thing I don’t have time to explain. But they’ve been changed to affect humans, all types of people, as well. I can survive a few hits from those weapons, but for most people, it would kill them instantly. I need to destroy all of them and stop any further production before the rest of the world gets a hold of them.”

“That’s why you—”

“They have to be destroyed,” Danny says. “And the people making and selling them need to be stopped. I can’t do it on my own. I’ve tried, but…”

“I’ll help,” Duke says, “I’ll help. This is a big enough problem to bring the Outsiders into it. Or the Bats, but they like to stay in Gotham.”

Danny floats closer, looking painfully relieved. “Really? They’ll be able to put an end to this?”

Duke reaches for him. “Yeah. they can do it. I’ll make sure of it.”

Danny’s feet land on the support beam as his hand meets Duke’s. They balance above the rest of the warehouse, drinking in the sight of each other. Duke rubs his thumb over Danny’s knuckles in soothing circles and watches as the tension begins to fall away from Danny’s shoulders.

“Duke,” he whispers, “I’ve missed you—”

The door below is kicked open, and a gunshot rings out.

Moving on instinct, Duke tackles Danny, wrapping him up in his arms as they fall off the support beam. They hit the ground hard, rolling a bit, and Duke tucks Danny into his chest, bodily protecting him.

“Narrows!”

The Red Hood stands over him, menacing, a gun pointed at him.

“Hood?” He loosens his grip on Danny. “What the hell was that for?”

“Thought you needed back up. You chased after our guy and lost your helmet, I think I’m right to be a little worried about you. So, who’s this?” There’s a hard edge to his voice, and Duke realizes with a sinking heart that all anyone else sees is an aggressor, a meta who attacked a truck full of weapons, attacked two people, and had to be chased down by the Signal. Jason’s seeing a threat and acting accordingly, putting Duke’s safety first.

And with his helmet off, identity clear, Danny’s even more dangerous now that he has this knowledge.

“I’m sorry,” Danny whispers to Duke. He doesn’t have time to ask for what? before Danny’s shooting another beam of green energy at Jason then taking off, flying through the roof and out of sight.

“Shit,” Jason mutters, straightening up from where he ducked to avoid being hit, then puts his gun away and kneels next to Duke. “You alright? Why’d you let him go? I thought you had him.”

“I’m fine. He’s not… He wasn’t going to hurt me. He just needed help.”

“Sure. And what are you not telling me?”

“I knew him. He’s a good person, but he’s been in danger for a long time. This was him trying to protect others from what he went through.”

Jason takes off the helmet and stares at him. Then he sighs and reaches a hand down to help Duke to his feet. “Alright,” he says, “Let’s head back to the truck. You have until then to convince me that they’re the problem, and if they are, then I’ll help you blow up more of their weapons.” He claps a hand on Duke’s shoulder, then pulls his helmet back on. “Grab your helmet. We’re wasting daylight, Narrows.”

There’s nothing else he can do, no way to search for Danny when there are other leads to chase, so Duke grapples up to the catwalk where his helmet landed and grabs it.

Just before he puts it on, he sees a flicker of white just outside the window he’s facing. He ducks his head to hide a smile. It’s almost like he’s stepped back in time; Danny’s here in Gotham, needing help and asking for it in the warehouse.

And though so much has changed in those years, there’s still one thing that Duke will ensure never changes: he’s Danny’s hero. Above Robin, or Signal, or anything else, Duke is Danny’s hero.

This time, he has the power to actually help Danny. He’s going to make sure no one ever hurts Danny again.

“Let’s go,” he says, jumping back down to Jason, helmet on. “I’ll tell you everything you need to know.”

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp fic #dp x dc fanfic #prompt fill #my writing #gotta be honest i do Not know much abt the We Are Robin movement. have yet to read those comics....#also this definitely deviated a bit from your prompt. sorry!! still hope i got the main things you wanted to see #duke being dannys hero is something so special to me...#also it is his parents selling weapons and blueprints and things to the giw which is then given to the military for new weapons #a truly terrible pipeline #duke and jason and whoever else joins will find the source of the weapons. break into the fenton home. and dannys just there eating toast #in his pjs like. um hi guys did u need something? (and staring at duke like DUDE HELLO WTF??)#a mess of a situation :) not gonna write it bc i know it would get away from me and get so long #thanks for the prompt!!

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the-coffeeaddict-tim-drake · 27 days

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Tim Drake Fics On A03

These are my list of Tim Drake fics on A03. It has everything. Angst, fluff, funny sibling relationship, family fluff, The core four etc... There are few TimKon fics thrown here and there too. Have fun.

Tim Drake (Doesn't) Drink Coffee by BabblingBookends

Every year, Tim goes on a caffeine detox for a month and has to deal with the resulting withdrawal symptoms. He doesn't tell the rest of the Bats about this, because, uh, reasons!

Bang, bang by Ididloveyou_once

‘You shot me!’ Jason gasped, stunned, ‘Holy shit, you actually shot me.’

Tim’s eyes widened and he froze. They stared at each other for a second, dumbstruck and then-

‘Don’t tell Bruce.’

Or: The family enjoy a normal movie night. Except Jason has a gunshot wound and Tim’s the only one who knows and oh- that’s because Tim’s the one who shot him and they really, really need to find a way to leave before anyone finds out.

Play it Again by Jazz020

The manor feels too quiet without music. Tim and Damian bond over music.

Send to All by kerosceene

I, ___________________________, hereby acknowledge that this form represents my wishes should I contract phytoaphrodisiac-induced delirium (hereafter referred to as “PAID”) during engagements with or while apprehending Dr. Pamela Lillian Isley (“Poison Ivy”).

The bats have a sex pollen release form. Because of course they do.

This is on of the most funniest batfam fic I have ever read.

four brothers, one crush, and absolutely zero brain cells to be found by Ms_Trickster

Tim: i need to know what’s the best way to a boy’s heart

Damian: Easy. The best way to someone’s heart is through their ribcage. Everyone knows that.

Damian: Come on Timothy, I expected better from you.

Dick: I-

Dick: Try again

Tim is having boy troubles.

Tim goes to his brothers for help.

Tim...did not think that plan of action through.

(In which the batbros give Tim advice on relationships, told entirely through texts.)

Their sibiling relationship is too damn funny.

Home by sElkieNight60

“Why didn't you call home?” the Red Hood is scolding him, bizarrely making his head spin with how unreal everything suddenly seems. “Why didn't you call Dad? You've been missing for three days and he is losing his mind―he thinks you've been kidnapped again―everyone has been pulling double runs all over the city trying to find you! You fucking disappeared! Seriously, Baby Bird, give us one good reason why we shouldn't drag your ass back home right now and have Dad bench you until the end of all days!?”

The two vigilantes are staring at him equal parts furious and equal parts relieved, but there must be some kind of mistake, because:

“Who is Tim?”

Only A03 users can read this fic.

Cork Board Contingencies by PrinceJakeFireCake

If you don’t use a cork board to obsessively plan contingencies for every possible way a date with your best friend can go, how can you go on a date at all?

Excerpt: “Are you free next Saturday?” Tim asked, pretty sure that Kon’s jumble of words was agreement that he wanted to date Tim.

“Maybe!” Kon exclaimed.

“Cool,” Tim commented, taking another sip of his drugged grape soda (“Dammit, Tim,” he mentally told himself. “Do not give in! Buy new grape soda! Stop drinking the drugged grape soda! I’ve shotgunned another can of drugged grape soda, haven’t I? Dammit, that makes five!”) then saying, “That gives me just enough time to pass out for fifty-two hours and plan our first date.”

Bloodlines by chibi_nightowl for exiled-one (mistralle)

“Mr. Drake, I can’t think of a better way to say this, so I’ll just be blunt. This file is for your first adoption. By the Drakes.”

Tim blinked. “My what?”

“You were adopted as a newborn by Jack and Janet Drake.”

“Excuse me, but what the fuck are you talking about?”

No words. This fic is just mind blowing.

fill in the blanks by mindshelter

“You?” Tim blurts. Holy shit. “You’re Kon?”

A nod. “Are you in any pain?” he asks again.

Kon’s skin is sun-kissed, cheekbones dusted with a fine smattering of freckles; he is, without exaggeration, the prettiest person Tim has ever seen. “No, I’m—great,” he says, fidgeting. “Do you, uh, come here often?”

Kon raises a brow. “To the medbay?” he intones. “Definitely more often than I’d prefer.”

Road Rage Robin by heartslogos

"I'd be doing humanity a favor." Tim grinds out, "And I would get away with it. I could totally get away with it. I've done worse."

Only A03 users can read this fic

Liberal Usage of the Bro-Code by heartslogos for protagonistically (the_protagonist)

“You’re never going to guess who’s blood is on my shirt – similarly, this is not my shirt but these are my pants.”

Only A03 users can read this fic.

Here's a Reminder (That You Haven't Fallen Through the Cracks) by popsunner

If it’s a salesperson, he’ll shove them a hundred dollar tip and tell them to go away, if it’s some religious do gooder, he’ll direct them to Metropolis. If it’s a Rogue, he’ll tell them he’s busy and to please get in the fucking line. If it’s one of his siblings--

“Hey, Tim!” Dick says brightly, forearm braced against the doorframe.

Dammit.

i totally don't have amnesia by impravidus for odd_izzy

Based on this john mulaney bit: “I also think it's weird in movies when someone has amnesia and they wake up in the hospital. A lot of times they'll be surrounded by friends and family, but when they open their eyes they go "Who are you?" Because that's not how you act when you don't recognize somebody. That's very rude. It would be chaos out there if every time you saw someone you didn't recognize, you went, "Who are you?" I always try to be really polite in life, so like if I had amnesia, you'd never know it. I'd wake up and they'd be like "Hi John, we're so happy you're awake." And I'd just be like, "Oh, hey, man, how's it going?", "Oh, hey, dude, nice to see you again." because that's how you act when you can tell that someone recognizes you and you have no fucking clue who they are.”

Detective Timothy Drake and the Mysterious Case of the Unclaimed Dildo by JpegDotJpeg

Tim had a lot of experience with problem solving. Every goddamn day he was solving problems. There was no shortage of problems in Tim’s life. He’d learned how to deal with overbearing parents, underbearing parents, malfunctioning equipment, in-team conflict, lawsuits, emotional breakdowns, financial difficulty, broken ribs, ill-timed boners, and a whole host of other bizarre, anxiety-inducing, or life-threatening issues that plagued his existence.

None of them had prepared him for finding a dildo in the dishwasher.

I had so much fun reading this.

Little Overlooked Dreams by Lunette3002 for Marzue

Tim weighed his options. He was alone at night in some alleyway in Gotham. He had nothing except the clothes left on the ground by someone and the cloak wrapped around his skinny shoulders. His camera was nowhere in sight. His backpack was gone too.

He brought the device to his ear. “Hello?”

Whatever talking had been on the other end of the line immediately cut off at his hesitant greeting.

“Who is this?”

Family Photos by KelpieCodyne

“I thought you quit your photo stalking?”

“In my defence, I never said I was quitting, and you never asked if I would,” Tim immediately counters. “So really, this is kind of on you.”

Just because Tim became a bat, doesn’t mean he stopped taking photos of bats. Several times Tim took photos of the batfamily, and one time they took photos of him.

One of my all time favorite fic. And only A03 users can read this fic too.

picture perfect memories by Fandom_Trash224

“I… require assistance with something. I believe you are best-suited for it.”

Tim raises an eyebrow, but motions for the younger boy to enter his room. As Damian does, he slowly closes the door behind him, and Tim notices a small piece of what Tim assumes to be paper in Damian’s hand. Then, he realizes it’s not just a piece of paper: it’s a photo.

Damian approaches Tim, holding out the photo at arm’s length once he’s close enough to do so, saying, “I would like you to explain this photo to me.”

Tim glances down at it, and to both his surprise and mild horror, he recognizes the photo.

Only A03 users can read this fic.

Biphasic Reaction by renecdote

People may have allergic reactions all the time and be fine, but they can also die from them. He has a flash of sudden, morbid curiosity about what the exact statistics for fatal allergic reactions are.

Only A03 users can read this fic.

miles and miles (in their shoes) by JUBE514

Where is Damian? Why can’t he see anything clearly? Where is the little brat? Damian had been by him in the cave when everything had exploded, they had been arguing like always when the two of them had gotten the punishment to go clean the trophy room, stop yelling at each other, stop being at each other's throat for two minutes and go clean the goddamn trophy room-

They had been cleaning, got into another knock out drag out argument, and it had come so close to blows and they had been screaming more than cleaning and-

The stupid fucking shoe, in the magical section- exploded out-

Tim and Damian switch bodies, the two of them realize exactly why the other does the things they do.

The Waynes, Damsels in Distress by hitthedeck

Roses are red, violets are blue, Bruce Wayne and his kids get kidnapped every other week. Some things are just universal, undeniable facts of life.

Or, in which Bruce Wayne is still Batman and his kids are still Robins, but they keep letting themselves get kidnapped because they think it's funny.

Have You Seen My Kids!? by Cute_Bear

Five Times Bruce's kids interrupted him as Bruce Wayne and One Time they interrupted him as Batman with the Justice League.

This is not Tim - centric, but it has really nice batfam fluff.

ten cents richer by Ms_Trickster

You either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain.

That’s how the saying goes. Take enough punches from the universe and eventually it becomes harder and harder to pop back up, to see the worth in fighting back, to stop yourself from turning around and delivering some punches of your own.

Tim never wanted to become the villain—

“Appendicitis,” Tim breathed in disbelief. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

—but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted to burn the world to ashes when shit like this kept happening to him.

A Saturday Evening by malcyon

Jonathan shrugs, catches the expression still on Tim’s face. “We did throw out the cyanide.”

“Only because it expired.”

“Marty.”

“Well, it did.”

*****

Kon invites Tim over for dinner. Tim's not sure if he should have accepted that invitation.

unfurl by shipyrds

"Hey, Dick," Tim says. He's in costume, and fiddling with his gloves, but he doesn't remove his mask: nervous, and trying to hide it. "You've had sex with aliens, right?"

"I'm not going to like where this is going, am I?" Dick says, resigned.

"How did you deal with the whole. Junk situation," Tim says, in his best professional Mission Report voice. Its success is kind of undermined with how red his face is below the domino. — Tim asks some questions. Bruce and Clark come to some realizations.

The Conner Kent Conspiracy Board by Hayleythewriter

Tim figures out Kon’s feelings before Kon does.

His Baby by Musafir

Bruce once made Tim a promise that he would never break, just have to reaffirm later in life.

“Hi Tim. I’m Bruce and I am always going to be here for you.”

Banshee In A Well by liverobinreaction (bugbee)

Tim is five years old when he drowns in his parents' pool. He dies quietly, waiting for parents who love him, but will never be there, to realise that something is wrong. They never show up, and he sinks into oblivion.

When he wakes up and claws his way out of the water, the sun has set, and the lights of his house are on. He is cold and wet and his lungs burn.

But most of all, Tim is alone.

(If you die and no-one is there to see it, were you ever alive in the first place?)

The Return by lurkinglurkerwholurks

What the comics neglected to cover after Bruce returns from being lost in time.

Only a03 users can read this fic.

charity by Valkirin for Ms_Trickster

The biggest downside of being adopted by Bruce Wayne is putting up with rich people events, including one where Jason will be in a room with a bunch of rich kids for a couple very long hours while Bruce goes to the adults' meeting. Jason is ready for a very bad time but the Drake kid listens to him from the start and keeps backing up Jason's ideas even though they've never met.

Jason warms up to Tim Drake long before Mad Hatter tries to take over the meeting and Tim backs him up again.

city of stars by lovelyre

College friends-to-lovers AU with Tim Drake.

This is Tim drake x Reader fic. Trust me its really good.

Tricks of the Trade by Jazz020

Jason and Damian learn about Tim's fool proof method of getting what he wants from Superman

Security Updates by Jazz020

Hal, Clark, and Barry find an unexpected guest playing with the watchtowers security.

Vacation at the Watchtower by Jazz020

A continuation of Security Updates

It may have been a mistake to let Tim stay at the Watchtower while he heals from his injury but the kid really needed to get away from his brothers.

“Wait, what if I go to the Watchtower with you.” “I don't think-” “It’ll be great. I'll even help out if you need me to. I'll be the best unpaid intern the Justice League has ever had.”

Birthdays by Jazz020

Bruce was always aware that Jack and Janet Drake were bad parents, but every once in a while they give him an unfortunate reminder.

Loss by Jazz020

Out of all of Tim’s self-destructive tendencies, it was his willingness to die for his loved ones that frightened Alfred most.

Sick by Jazz020

Tim’s never quite figured out the proper behavior for someone who’s sick. Instead of resting, he often makes his way to the Watchtower.

We Can Work It Out by blackash26, Tigrislupa

Damian endeavors to make up for his treatment of Drake and apologize properly; however, Drake refuses to forgive him no matter what he does. Tim does his best to deny, avoid, and ultimately deal with the fact that the demon brat has a crush on him of all people. (Pulling pigtails never felt like quite such an understatement.) Meanwhile, the rest of the family takes sides.

In all of this, there's only one thing everyone agrees on.

Don’t tell Dick.

Only A03 users can read this fic.

you'll never find a thing like today by remrose

"I'm just saying, I don't think I've ever been to one of these things that hasn't ended in explosions," Bart tells them, eyes on the crowds as he tugs at the ends of his cuffs.

To the Boy Who Called Yesterday by Shirokokuro

Bruce wonders when six-year-old Tim changed, when he shed that sad look he’s wearing now.

Or, perhaps, when he got so good at hiding it.

Cough syrup by Stardustwrites17

It’s the coldest night in the year. So of course Tim falls into the Gotham-fucking-harbor.

Featuring a worried dad, Tim's missing spleen, and of course, Tim battling with himself between being independent and letting himself be loved.

Chili dogs seasoned with tears by Robin_The_Robiner

Ever so slowly, Tim looked down at his plate. On it was a steaming chili dog, topped with fried onions and fresh parsley.

“Oh.” he whispered.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Taking the place of a beloved dead boy was difficult, but Tim managed to do a decent job. He's smart, confident, and put together, so he wasn't effected by their devastating grief at all.

Tim is also a dirty little liar when it comes to his mental health.

A Pile Of Pillows By The Couch by reinersbigtits

Tim has always hated getting sick. He hates the haze and the pain. But, when he finds out his family is sick he jumps in to help without a second thought. However, without a spleen, he's incredibly susceptible to the illness and quickly realizes just how much he's missed out on.

Or: Tim Drakes repressed trauma followed by worried family feels and lots of comfort.

stepping on landmines by Ms_Trickster

There is a scar curved around Drake's neck that Damian does not understand.

So he asks Todd.

the butler's neighbor by deargalileo

It starts with a baseball, thrown onto the wayne's property. it's alfred's job to deal with such happenings, of course. but over tea and galas, it turns into so much more.

after all, why should bruce be the only one allowed to adopt any child that he finds?

Stranger than Fiction by foxy_mulder

"There are details in this document that absolutely no one should know unless they have inside information on us. There’s hints that they know our patrol schedules and regularly keep tabs on us. I don't know who's behind this, or what they want with Batman, but tracking the writer needs to be a priority."

"And this document is… a fanfiction?"

_________

(Tim Drake writes Batman fanfiction. He doesn't expect Batman to actually find it.)

There are many many more fics which i will post later. Have fun reading

#tim drake #batfam #red robin #dc robin #jason todd #good parent bruce wayne #dick grayson is nightwing #damian wayne is a little shit #tim drake is a menace #jason todd is red hood #jason todd is a little shit #fluff #light angst #bart allen #young justice #conner kent #tim drake loves coffee #tim drake centric fic #timkon

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prentissluvr · 1 year

Text

eyes open — joel miller

gn!reader , can be read platonic or romantic , sometime between kansas city and jackson in the fall, mild angst maybe hurt/comfort , cw : canon typical violence, infected, swearing, wounds, blood, guns, medical inaccuracy , wc : 2.4K part two here !

initially, the plan was to find a coat, and get the fuck out. you knew you were lucky to have found a mall that’s mostly intact, even better, one that appeared to still have shit inside. of course it’s a small town, and therefore a small building, but you still found what you were looking for. what you weren’t looking for, however, was the party of two you spotted on the level beneath you. the second you saw them, you ducked away and out of sight, eager to avoid anyone.

that was barely a minute ago, and now that you’re nearing the exit on the upper level, you’re sure that you’ve avoided the worst of it. but you hear them first. it doesn’t take an idiot to know that the sounds below you are that of infected, and your first instinct is book it out of that building as fast as possible.

only two seconds later do you pause, cursing the sympathy you still can’t seem to get rid of in this hell of a world. there’s a kid. one of them was a kid. when you started to sneak away, you heard her laugh and it almost made you smile. you try to convince yourself that they can deal with a couple of infected, but when you peer down, it’s not just a couple, and they’re headed right in the direction you last saw the travellers.

“fuck,” you whisper. “i can’t believe myself.”

you scoff, but nonetheless pull out your gun and find the nearest broken escalator so quietly you swear you can hear your own heartbeat.

the idea that you’re purposefully moving towards a group of infected is actually insane, maybe just flat out suicidal, but you don’t want to think of what could happen to the girl of her and the man she’s with get when they are caught by surprise. from thorough inspection of the outside of the building, you know that the only unblocked exit is up where you were, past the infected.

once you’re convinced you’ll actually be able to shoot a decent amount of the infected and still make a break for the nearest exit, you take a deep breath, and aim.

at the first shot of your gun, chaos ensues. the infected start screeching, turning in your direction. but they’re far enough away, so you keep shooting, taking down three before turning and running. but there are more and now you’re really cursing yourself, because they’re blocking the way up the stairs.

your savior comes in the form of more gunshots, ones that don’t come from you. the last two who you initially chased fall, and another is deterred by your own shots. there’s only one left, one you plan to take down yourself. but your savior becomes an enemy when a searing pain rips through your side. a bullet skims your skin and plants itself in the side of the infected. moments later it’s fallen and you hear the gruff voice of a man telling you to put away your gun, or he’ll shoot.

you do as he says, turning to find him and the girl rapidly approaching.

“there could be more,” is all he says, walking past you and towards the stairs.

“right,” you grunt, pushing your hand up against the gash bleeding through your shirt and jacket. you do your best to limp after the two, and you almost run into the girl when the man suddenly stops.

he nods his chin in the direction of the coat you haphazardly stuffed into your bag. “where’d you get that?”

“up my ass,” is all you say, not happy about the way his bullet cut you up.

“i won’t ask again,” he warns. you just scoff.

“you know, i came down here and threw myself at a bunch of infected so you wouldn’t be trapped in here. all i get are threats?”

clearly, he doesn’t care about anything you could say. “i probably saved your life more than you did mine. now tell me where you got the coat.”

“i’ll tell you if you help me get the hell out of this town, i don’t know, since i’m gonna have a bit of trouble travelling thanks to someone’s bullet,” you bargain.

“no.”

you roll your eyes. “fine. get me somewhere to sleep tonight, make sure i don’t die within the first night of getting this stupid ass gash, and i’ll tell you where you can find the coats. even better, i’ll point you to some unfortunate person’s stash of actual good shit. i took as much as i could but there’s still more. there’s ammo, food, even some first aid shit.”

for the first time, the girl speaks up. “let’s just help them. we wouldn’t have known about the infected as soon as we had if they hadn’t shot up a few of them first.” you thank her in your head for taking your side.

“fine. where’re the coats?”

“up there, the store still has a few intact,” you inform. the two of them arrive at the top of the stairs far faster than you do, your feet starting to drag; the strain of your wound plus the stairs feel a little bit like hell.

once you reach the top, nearly wheezing, the man orders you to give your pack to the kid.

“why, so she can run away with my shit?” you bite.

“i wouldn’t do that!” she argues.

he pays no attention to her, only explaining in short words, “you’re moving too slow and there could be more infected.”

“well, i wonder why that is,” you grunt.

he huffs in annoyance at your snarky attitude, but nonetheless tells you he’s going to help you walk faster. despite feeling far more than miffed by the man, you allow him to wrap his arm around your waist and you hold onto his shoulder for extra support. moving is still slow, but you reach the store faster than you otherwise would have. the girl drops your pack on the ground in order to search for something to fit her or the man, coming up empty handed for him, but finding a padded coat for herself.

you clench your jaw against the pain in your side before speaking. “i think there’s a men’s boutique a few stores down.”

once there, the girl begins searching again, and you hate to find yourself leaning further and further into the man’s support. luckily, it doesn’t take long forher to find a fleece lined, brown jacket to fit his broad frame. you’re starting to feel a little bit out of it, and he can’t help but notice the way that your breathing is getting labored and your face seems paler than he thought it was before.

“we should get you bandaged up now,” he says, realizing your wound is probably worse than you’ve been letting on.

“sure,” you grunt. but you don’t even get the chance to sit down before you hear noises coming from the lower level. “nevermind,” you sigh. “there’s an exit that way.” you point in the direction you came with your chin.

the young girl gathers up all of the belongings she set down, sticking close to the other side of her companion. as the three of you make your way out of the building, you do your best to stay steady on your feet, not eager to even chance upon finding out what else was in there, be it infected or other people. you make it out of the building and turn down the first alleyway you find to cut into a different street.

with both the support of the gruff man at your side and the adrenaline coursing through you, you’re able to keep up a decent pace. but as the blood loss catches up to you, your steps falter and you trip over your own feet. with the arm firmly wrapped around your waist, the man pulls you even closer into him, nearly dragging you along at this point.

stopping at a corner to breathe and check the safety of a new street, his deep voice reaches your ears.

“just stay awake,” he orders.

“it’s not that bad,” you bite back through gritted teeth.

it seems he can’t care to argue further, just keeping a firm grip on his gun and a watchful eye on the girl as you continue to move away from the mall.

finally, he deems a fairly intact house on the edge of the town safe enough to do a sweep-through for safety. you stumble inside and he leaves you leaning against the wall with the girl to search the house. the second he’s out the door, the younger turns to you to strike up conversation.

“you kinda saved us, so i’m gonna hope that telling you my name isn’t gonna get me killed?”

“definitely not.”

“great.” she even smiles at you. “i’m ellie! the old grump is joel. sorry he shot you.”

you wish you had more energy to talk to her; she seems funny. but you have to keep your answers short, because you’d rather that someone so young not have to know just how much pain you're in. so you tell her your name in a curt tone, but make sure to tell her it’s not your fault. what you’d add if you could speak more would be that it’s his fault, but even him you understand, as he was just doing what he needed to protect her.

she doesn’t speak much more, probably getting the memo that you aren’t in the best position for conversation right now. even so, you still notice the way that every minute or so, she says something or asks a question, just to be sure you’re conscious enough.

ellie’s spirit is nice, but it’s a relief when the man, joel, you remember, reappears. he helps you to lie on the floor, then slips your coat under your head before gathering up supplies from your pack.

“gonna pull up your shirt, just a little, ‘k?” he’s more than respectful, almost gentle in contrast with his words that are rough more often than not.

you just nod, letting him remove your hands from your wound and lifting your shirt just enough for him to see the gash in your side. luckily, it’s stopped bleeding so much due to the pressure you had been doing your best to apply, but he was right; it was definitely worse than what you had been letting on at first.

“why didn’t you say anything when you had the chance?” he asks, voice harsh, insinuating that you should have stopped to care for yourself before or while ellie was searching for coats.

“well you didn’t seem particularly concerned with my well being,” you say through gritted teeth. he just huffs, knowing that you’re right, but you’re also an idiot for letting your this type of wound stay untended for so long.

“this needs stitches,” he frowns. a few snarky retorts stored in your mind beg to be used on him, but you opt to just nod, knowing you’ll need your strength. “you should bite on this.” he grabs his new jacket, bringing the sleeve to your face. you lift your hands up, placing the fabric between your teeth. it’s not comfortable, but when the first wave of pain comes from the alcohol poured on the open wound, you’re grateful to bite into the fabric rather than your own tongue.

before joel can begin the stitches in your side, you grab his wrist and pull the fabric out of your mouth with your other hand. you gasp before speaking, “does this kid have to stay?” you don’t want her to have to watch this.

it seems he agrees, because he immediately tells her to find a different room to stay in. but she’s stubborn, insisting she can stay. joel argues back when you don’t have the energy to, but she doesn’t have any of it, so he just shifts his attention back to you. you just place the sleeve back in your mouth as he sterilizes the needle and moves your clothing around a bit more.

his touch is gentle, but it does nothing to lessen the pain of the needle pushing through your flesh. you react viscerally, your hands clutching his shoulder and forearm, a muffled yelp escaping your lips.

“jus’ a few stitches,” he says steadily. “ellie, come over here grab their hand, it’s gettin’ in the way.” ellie does as she’s told, scrambling from her previous spot to sit right by you and take the hand that had latched onto joel’s arm. in the back of your mind, you feel bad for squeezing the young girl’s hand so hard, but you can’t help it.

joel is right; it’s only a few stitches, but by the time he’s done you’re barely conscious. he fixes your clothing to cover your torso once again, then reaches up to softly pull the fabric from your mouth. you let out a dry groan when he does so.

“eyes open,” he commands as he grabs water. he helps you drink, one hand holding his flask, the other holding up the back of your head. once you’ve finished drinking he removes his hands from you and begins to pack everything he used back into your bag, instructing ellie to keep you awake while he does so.

“can’t i just sleep?” you grumble out.

“there’s a mattress upstairs, we’ll sleep up there,” he says sternly. you only hum in response, and there’s no need for ellie to keep you awake, as joel’s finished with the bags. she grabs them, leaving joel to hoist you into his arms. the movement pulls a pained groan out of your lips. and yet, the warmth of his body is comforting and you wish you had the energy to hate it, but your own body betrays you as your head sinks into his shoulder. the added pressure causes him to look down at you. he tells you to open your eyes when he finds them to be closed. but it’s almost like you can’t hear him, the only reaction he gets is a furrow of eyebrows in reaction to the pain you likely feel as he starts up the stairs. “alright,” he whispers, more to himself than anyone else as your features finally relax and you fall into unconsciousness. at least now you’re all safe, so he can’t say it’s the worst thing to have you asleep in his arms.

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seijorhi · 1 year

Text

Undertow

A tokrev purge AU, as a treat :))

Kakucho x female reader, Kurokawa Izana x female reader

w.c 6.4k

tw: murder, blood & slight gore, implied non/dub-con, yandere themes

This is not a test, this is your Emergency Broadcast System announcing the commencement of the annual Purge sanctioned by the Japanese Government. Weapons of class four and lower have been authorised for use during the Purge. All other weapons are restricted. Government officials of ranking ten have been granted immunity and shall not be harmed.

Commencing at the siren, any and all crime, including murder, will be legal for twelve continuous hours. Police, fire, and emergency medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning at 7:00 a.m, when the Purge concludes.

Blessed be our new founding fathers and Japan; a nation reborn.

As the polite, female voice falls silent, klaxons ring out, blaring through the night.

Seven years now.

Five, since your brother decided to join the would be Purgers and never made it home. It never becomes normal, you never lose that fear. You do, however, learn the rules.

Stay home. Lock yourself away behind the reinforced shutters and doors, pretend that everything’s fine, that you can’t hear the screaming and gunshots, the violent chaos being gleefully wreaked outside. You put on some movies, music maybe, sit on your couch, swaddled in blankets with the volume too loud and pray that tonight won’t be the night that someone decides to test just how impenetrable the defences around your home truly are.

Arms encircle your waist, pulling you back against a firm chest. A kiss is pressed against your hair. “Babe, don’t look so worried. We’ll be fine. We always are.”

–Only this time, you’re not waiting out the Purge by yourself.

You exhale, Natsuya’s hold easing to allow you to turn and face him. He smiles at the pinched expression on your face, “We’re gonna be fine,” he repeats. “Now will you please come have a drink with me? The others are starting to wonder why my beautiful,” his lips meet your forehead, “smart,” the tip of your nose, “incredible girlfriend’s hiding herself away.”

He kisses your lips last of all, a sweet, gentle thing. Brushes your hair back from your face.

“No one’s getting through the security system, and even if they did, no one’s gonna hurt you, I’ll make sure of it.”

Yes, you’d caught an eyeful of the shotgun he’d been cleaning when you’d arrived. His friends undoubtedly have their own weapons stashed away, too. After all – there’s no such thing as a pacifist on Purge night.

It doesn’t ease your worry any, but you smile and nod for him, letting him tug you back to the lounge room where his friends and sister await.

Because what else does Purge night call for, if not a party?

Miyano – charming and roguish, long dark hair swept up into a bun – the first to greet you, passing you a shot of amber liquor with an easy wink. “Purge classic,” he tells you, referring to the drink, “it’s tradition – and a secret.”

You knock the shot back, wincing at the burn in your throat as it goes down. “Why does it taste like toothpaste?!”

“Disgusting, isn’t it,” Tomori, Natsuya’s sister and the only other girl present, says with a grimace.

Miyano looks mightily pleased with himself, Ayumu and Suwabe both snickering good naturedly. The two of them couldn’t be more different from each other. Suwabe’s short and stocky, Ayumu willowy-tall, blond and bespectacled, and yet one’s never far from the other.

Your boyfriend sneaks an arm around your waist, dutifully accepting his own with a rueful sigh.

“So you guys do this every Purge?”

Suwabe nods, “Yeah, for the past four or five years. It’s a shit night, we figured we might as well make the most of it together instead of stressing out about it alone.”

“And you’ve never been tempted to…?”

The three of them share a look, Suwabe shrugging, “What, to Purge? Ayumu and I went one year. Not to kill anyone or nothing,” he hastens to clarify at your wide eyed expression, “we wanted to rob his boss’s place.”

“The guy was an asshole. Rich as hell, too. We knew he wasn’t gonna be there, it seemed as good a time as any to try our luck,” the blond elaborates.

“And how’d that go for you?”

He laughs, rubbing the back of his neck, “Yeah, we didn’t even make it onto the property. And it was fucked out there, not something I want a repeat of anytime soon.”

Your brother’s face flashes to mind, a pang striking deep in your chest. He’d made his choice, though, with intentions far less justifiable, and so you shove those feelings aside, tilting your face to meet Natsuya’s, “And no Purging for you?”

Intended as a joke, his fingers, resting comfortably above your hip, inexplicably twitch. “‘Course not.”

“The whole thing’s messed up. Who wants to go out and hunt people for fun?” Tomori snorts, passing you a glass of wine and pouring one for herself.

“Kind of a necessary evil, though, right?”

She meets her brother’s gaze with one raised, unimpressed eyebrow, “Oh c’mon, Nats, you can’t honestly tell me that you believe the Purge is in any way a good thing. Those who can afford it lock themselves away, and the poor pay the price. It’s chaos for the sake of chaos, the only difference between now and before is that alongside all the criminals who would’ve gone out looting and murdering anyway, the government’s convinced stupid, entitled dumbasses like those two,” she jerks her chin towards Ayumu and Suwabe, both suddenly fascinated with their drinks, “that killing and stealing and hurting other people is morally upstanding, and worse; fun.”

And so the conversation goes, as it always does. You nod and hum idly along with the others every now and then, nestled comfortably into Natsuya’s side while they argue back and forth, until– “Look, all I’m saying is that anyone who’s dumb enough to get themselves killed on Purge night probably isn’t a great loss to society anyway.”

The change in the air is palpable. Natsuya stiffens behind you, Tomori’s breath catching, her eyes immediately finding yours.

Figures that Natsuya told her.

And to Miyano’s credit, he seems to realise he’s misstepped even before your boyfriend’s growled, “Dude, shut the hell up.”

“Shit, that’s not what I– Fuck, I didn’t–” You raise a placating hand, and his mouth closes with an audible click.

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it, I’m not gonna bite your head off,” you chuckle awkwardly, pretending that you don’t see Suwabe’s wince.

Still, his expression looks almost stricken, eyes darting between you and a disapproving Nats, and you feel a slight twinge of… something.

Miyano hadn’t said it to be spiteful.

What happened to your brother happens to hundreds every Purge – they leave the safety of their houses with the belief that because they’ve got a weapon and a free pass for twelve hours, they’re invincible.

Usually, they’re wrong.

“It’s fine,” you repeat with a tight smile, pointedly ignoring Natsuya’s scoff.

“No, I shouldn’t’ve–”

Whatever he’s about to say falls by the wayside as a loud, pounding suddenly reverberates through the house.

The front door.

For a long beat, nobody moves. Nobody breathes. Six pairs of eyes shift to the entry-way, towards the unknown figure waiting on the other side of the door.

Silence settles over the six of you, thick and uncomfortable, and undercurrent of tension pressing down on your body. Every door and window’s locked and reinforced behind steel shutters, they’re not impenetrable, though. Nothing is.

Abruptly, the banging resumes, so sudden that you jerk, flinching back against Natsuya’s frame.

“Pull up the security feed,” Suwabe suggests.

There’s a panel with a keypad on the wall by the kitchen, a few clicks of the buttons and the screen comes to life. Split across six sections, the cameras show a near 360 degree view of the exterior of the house. Natsuya taps on the upper left, bringing the view from the front of the house – the man battering down the door – full screen, the audio filtering through.

“–gonna kill me! You have to let me in! I promise I’m not armed, I swear it, just– help me, please!”

Your stomach flips.

“I–” you swallow, drawing in an unsteady breath.

The shock of black hair, the jagged scar cut like a bolt of lightning across his forehead, his eyes, one red, the other a milky white, wide and frantic now as he risks another look behind him – they’re not features you’re likely to forget any time soon. “I know him.”

You feel more than see the way that Natsuya tenses, pulling back to study you, a note of questioning in his eyes.

“He catches the same train home, we talk sometimes.” There’s more to it than that; a creep that tried to feel you up and Kakucho’s intervention, but you don’t feel like getting into that now.

Not when he’s hoarse and begging on Nats’ doorstep.

He hammers his fist against the shutters, strong enough that you swear you can feel the vibrations rattling in your chest. “He’s coming– fucking hell, please!”

Nobody says anything, uncomfortable glances shared between all six of you.

It’s an exercise in futility begging anyone for help on Purge night. He has to know that – everyone knows that.

And yet your heart’s lodged firmly in your throat, because it’s not just anyone at the door. It’s not a stranger begging for mercy, for sanctuary, it’s Kakucho.

Kakucho, who stood up for you.

Kakucho, who took the seat next to yours for weeks before he so much as said a word to you.

Kakucho, who looks half crazed – terrified – pleading for his life.

You barely know him, a kind act and a few conversations on your nighttime commute doesn’t make him a saint, doesn’t mean you have any sort of deeper relationship or trust built between you, but…

“Nats,” you breathe, your hand seeking his. His palm’s warm, engulfing yours, and you squeeze it, “I know him.”

It isn’t a plea, not quite.

“Dude, are you crazy? You can’t let him in!” Suwabe hisses, smacking his shoulder. “It sucks, but that’s what happens–”

Tomori‘s eyes flash. She folds her arms over her chest, shooting daggers his way, “So we throw him to the wolves? Just leave him to die?”

“Yeah; that’s the fucking Purge, Mori! He’s banging on your door ‘cause no one else’s stupid enough to let him in!”

“And if it was your friend and not some random stranger, you’re telling me you‘d leave him to the wolves rather than risk opening your door?”

Miyano, up until now silent, exhales, “She’s kind of got a point.”

“He’s not a friend though, she said it herself!” Suwabe snaps back, jabbing his finger in your direction. He turns to Ayumu, watching the argument unfold with a small frown. “Back me up here, dude, you know I’m right.”

The blond shifts on his feet, fingers tapping an uneasy rhythm against his drink as his gaze flickers between you and Natsuya. And all the while, the pounding outside continues, furious and desperate, layered beneath Kakucho’s shouts. You’re half convinced that any second now, that door’s gonna give way, and your stomach churns. You feel sick.

He’s a mere step above a stranger; an acquaintance at best. Suwabe isn’t wrong, either. This is Purge, this is what happens. Those who don’t have the means to protect themselves either learn to fight back or pay the price. There’s no helping that and it’s naive to think otherwise.

Right now you’re safe. Barring an all out assault, you’ll remain that way for the rest of the night.

The smart thing to do would be to hunker down and pretend the world outside the front door doesn’t exist for the next however many hours. That was the plan. That’s always the plan for the Purge.

Even the harmless looking ones pose a threat tonight. Kakucho, with his stature and scowl, the scar and those frighteningly intense eyes, never struck you as all that harmless.

So you don’t blame Suwabe for his reticence. You can’t. The smart, rational choice here is as cold and brutal as it is simple; you keep the door locked.

Yet your hand tightens around Natsuya’s, anchoring yourself in the touch as Ayumu’s eyes flit across yours, considering.

You won’t beg, you won’t, but–

“It’s your house,” he eventually says, more to Natusya than you. A shrugs then, sliding his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “There’s six of us, we’ve got guns if he tries anything.”

Something looses inside of you, a shuddering breath filling your lungs.

Natsuya doesn’t look particularly thrilled judging from the clenched muscle in his jaw, the crease between his brows. One glance at Tomori, though, her lovely face set is a mask of determination and that resolve of his weakens.

And shatters entirely.

“Fine. Fucking– fine. Let him in; 4869.”

He snatches the shotgun off the table as he says it, drawing you back into his side whilst Miyano – the closest to the door – punches in the code. Suwabe, meanwhile, disappears from the room, reappearing a moment later with a gun in hand.

Sliding himself into position between Tomori and the door, he cocks the slide with a grim expression. He locks eyes with you – only for a heartbeat – and you find yourself wanting to blurt out that the guns aren’t necessary, that Kakucho isn’t a threat.

You don’t, though, tongue leaden in your mouth, and he nudges her back as his attention shifts to the door.

In your ear, low enough that the others won’t hear, Natsuya murmurs, “You don’t leave my side, understand?”

You nod.

With a heavy clank, the shutters begin to lift.

Your fingers dance by your side, your insides in knots. Inch by inch it goes until finally, Miyano unlocks the door, pulls it open and Kakucho barrels in.

No one breathes. No one moves as he rights himself, bleeding, panting.

“Shut the fucking door,” he rasps, and like that, whatever spell everyone’s under is broken and both Suwabe and Miyano snap into action to close off the house once more.

And all the while you simply stare, blinking, unsure of what you’re supposed to say or do right now. Kakucho’s eyes shift around the room, slowly considering each of your friends, tasking them in one after the other, Suwabe’s gun, Natsuya’s, until at last, his eyes fall on you.

Recognition glints. Surprise. His head tilts, almost puppy-ish, brows drawing together. He murmurs your name in that deep, gravelly rumble, and Natsuya goes rigid.

It’s an instinctual response, you think, because a breath later his thumb rubs soothingly at your hip, slow and gentle, a quiet apology for brutish behaviour. Everyone’s on edge tonight.

And once again, it falls to Tomori to break the tension.

“Are you hurt? You look like hell.”

Kakucho doesn’t answer her immediately, his attention lingering on you for a heartbeat longer than necessary. Long enough that you have to fight the urge to fidget. Eventually, though, he grunts and shakes his head, turning his head to face her. “It’s nothing. I‘m fine.”

“You’re bleeding,” she presses, as gently as she can.

Dazedly, he lifts his hand to his face, fingers finding the gash on his cheek. They come away wet and shining, glistening with his own blood – he stares at it, almost confused. “It’s… nothing,” he repeats, slower this time.

Tomori rolls her eyes, huffs in a way that’s so similar to Natsuya that under other circumstances you might have laughed. “What is it with men and their bullshit need to act tough all the time?”

None of them, not even Miyano has anything to say to that, and despite the heavy tension still hanging in the air, a wry grin pulls at your lips.

It only lasts a moment.

“You guys have a first aid kit, yeah?” Ayumu asks, to which both Tomori and your boyfriend nod.

“In the kitchen, the shelf above the fridge.”

And like that, the boys begin to disperse. Ayumu to fetch the kit, Miyano water and alcohol. Suwabe sticks by Tomori’s side, and when she mentions something about towels for the blood, he follows her out into the hallway. You suspect it’s more to give you a moment with Kakucho – or to escape the thick, awkward atmosphere – but you’re grateful all the same.

With the others gone, Kakucho’s attention turns back to you. Says nothing as you approach, Natsuya trailing right behind you, watching the two of you carefully.

Tomori hadn’t been wrong. Tough act or not, he has to be in pain. Split lip, knuckles grazed and reddened. The gash on his cheek, and blood seeping from a cut on his brow. Mottled bruises darkening his skin. Even his gait is off, his left leg supporting the majority of his weight. You’ve never seen the aftermath of a beating like this before. They hadn’t even let you see your own brother after they’d found him.

It twists at something inside of you, sends a pang right through your heart. He has to be hurting, yet Kakucho wears the damage like it’s nothing.

There’s a strange urge – one you steadfastly ignore – to reach out and take his ruined cheek in hand. To see someone in pain, hiding it… you might not be friends exactly, but a lump forms in your throat, your chest tightening. You’ve never felt so uselessly inadequate.

You sigh, eyes searching his, “What happened to you?”

“Let him sit down first, babe,” your boyfriend mutters.

Kakucho regards him warily. He’s still holding the shotgun, admittedly by his side, his other hand moving to your shoulder.

A clear message, and you don’t know how you feel about that.

In any case, your cheeks warm, a sheepish laugh – one without much humour – leaving your lips. You’re doing this all wrong. Stupid, stupid. “Of course, it’s probably better if we do this at the table, right?” you ask no one in particular. “Can you walk over or do you need somebody to lean on?”

A faint frown mars his face, “I said I’m fine.” Again, there’s no heat in the statement, the words are dull, robotic almost.

The others are returning now, Ayumu blowing his blond locks away from his face as he sets the first aid kit down on the table and pops it open. Yet surprisingly it’s Suwabe who pipes up, “Stop being an asshole, she’s just trying to help.”

Well, maybe not that surprising.

You repress another sigh, shaking off Natsuya’s grip to go and help him, Ayumu clearly having the same thought, when the doorbell rings.

You freeze.

No one dares to breathe, each of you slowly turning to face the door, still locked behind those steel shutters.

The doorbell rings again, twice in quick succession.

You hear someone quietly whisper, “Fuck.”

Cold dread sluices through your system, every pound of your heart echoing in your ear as Natsuya chokes on his spit, glances to Miyano.

And all eyes shift to the security screen. Tomori’s closest this time, Suwabe’s quick to grab her, pull her back as he instead brings the feed to life. Another tap, and the exterior front door once again fills the screen.

Your heart, pounding so violently in your chest that it feels like you’re going to be sick, constricts.

A blond man with striking – deeply unsettling – violet eyes stands at the doorstep, smiling directly into the camera. He’s not much older than you, less than five or so years you’d guess, dressed in an elegant, brocaded red coat.

“I’m assuming I have your attention,” he begins. His voice is pleasant and smooth, it sends shivers down your spine, the warmth leaching from your blood.

He waits a beat, still smiling that chilling, awful smile. “Good. Excellent. As I have no intention of wasting my time on this precious Purge night, I’ll make this brief. Nice and simple for you; it’s come to my attention that you’re harbouring something that belongs to me.” You hear Tomori’s breath catch, and hers aren’t the only pair of eyes that shift to Kakucho. “The man – the dog – you’ve inexplicably given sanctuary to tonight is nothing but filth. A defiler. A killer. A menace to our just society, and like all dogs, he must be brought to heel.”

His teeth, straight and white, glint as his grin widens. You can’t breathe, Natsuya’s hand finding yours, tightening wordlessly. You can feel the tension shift in the room, the fear that descends like a blanket at his words. But you know Kakucho, he’s wouldn’t– he’s not–

“By offering him sanctuary, by standing between me and what is rightfully mine, you’ve aligned yourself with those to be Purged. So, again, I’ll make this clear. You may think that behind this security system of yours, you’re safe. That the locks on your doors and steel shutters will keep me out – that is a lie you’ve been sold. I am coming in, it might take five minutes, maybe twenty, but these defences will fall. And if the dog inside hasn’t ripped you all to pieces, rest assured that I will. I suggest you good folks run. Hide. You cannot keep me from what I want.”

Abruptly the screen goes black, and no less than a split second later, the power in the house cuts out, plunging you into an eerie green-lit dimness as the sole emergency light flickers on.

The sound of your shaking breath feels too loud in the dead stillness. You swallow, and slowly turn to face Kakucho.

A defiler and a killer, the smiling man had said.

Those things can’t be true, because the Kakucho you know…

He meets your stare. Cold and empty, and that racing, trembling heart of your sinks into the very pit of your stomach. “K-kakucho?”

Two guns lift, Natsuya yanking you back, and in the space of a breath, everything goes to hell. Ayumu’s closest, had gone over to help, and quicker than your eyes can follow, Kakucho lunges forward, a knife appearing in his hand.

One moment, your friend, with that quiet, dry humour and a heart of absolute gold, is standing, the next – Kakucho’s knife is at his throat, and he’s being yanked backwards. “Put the guns down,” he says.

Like his expression, his voice is cold and flat.

Neither Natsuya nor Suwabe make a move to lower their weapons, Suwabe teeth bared in a silent snarl.

“Just do what he says, for fuck’s sake!” Miyano hisses, and you’re not imagining the panic lacing his tone.

The corner of Kakucho’s lips curl, “However fast you think you can shoot, I can guarantee you it won’t be quick enough. Put them down. On the floor.”

“Kakucho, please…”

He doesn’t so much as spare you a glance. Natsuya’s hand tightens, a silent plea for you to keep quiet, and not draw his attention.

“Do what he says.” It’s Ayumu, his voice a hoarse whisper. Wide eyed, shaking, the knife at his throat pressed so tightly that the movement of his vocal chords causes skin to break, a thin line of blood beading across his neck. “Please.”

“I am not–”

“Do what he fucking says, Suwabe!”

A long silence settles, neither making a move, unwilling to give an inch despite their friend’s desperate plea. And perhaps the terror in the blond’s voice finally breaks through to them, or the cool, detached ruthlessness of Kakucho’s demeanour, but with a heavy reluctance, the two lower their weapons.

“On the floor,” Kakucho repeats, pressing the blade tighter against Ayumu’s throat. “I’m not asking.”

Suwabe snarls, dropping the pistol. A moment later Natsuya follows suit, the both of them glaring at the larger man.

Kakucho smirks. Glances at you.

A defiler, the smiling man had called him. A killer.

And too quickly for anyone to stop him, he yanks the knife across Ayumu’s throat and shoves him aside. There’s a ringing in your ears as Tomori screams, Suwabe falling to his knees, scrambling for his discarded gun. Too slow. Kakucho’s sprinting – unhindered by his supposed ‘injured’ foot – disappearing into the darkness of the house, and Ayumu’s bleeding out on the floor.

Gaping and gasping, twitching like a fish out of water.

You can’t move, can’t hear a thing but the pounding of your pulse in your ears as you stare into his eyes. There’s so much blood, more and more spraying with every dying beat of his heart, pooling beneath his body, splattering the walls, the furniture, everything. And you can’t move.

Ayumu, glasses knocked askew, pretty blond locks falling into his eyes, chokes and gurgles, a trembling, bloody hand stretching out for help – and you can’t do a thing.

No one can.

And just as Miyano jolts out of his stupor and lunges for him, Ayumu’s body falls slack.

The light in his eyes fading away into nothingness.

Dead.

Suwabe screams, fires two shots blindly down the hallway, howling in rage and agony. Natsuya grips you so tight that it cuts off your circulation, his own eyes wide and horrified, taking in the carnage before him. Tomori lets out a keening sob, and the shutters on the front door screech ominously, as if to remind you all that there are bigger problems at hand.

There’s no time for grief. There’s a killer in the house, another forcing his way inside. Five of you left, two guns, and another ten or so hours until all of this can be over.

And suddenly Natsuya’s in front of you, grabbing your face in both hands and forcing you to look at him. You blink dazedly, trying in vain to focus as he speaks to you.

“–bathroom, lock the fucking door and do not open it until I come back, you understand?”

You blink again, eyes sliding back at Ayumu. His eyes are open, gazing at nothing, empty, empty, empty–

Your fault.

He’d told them it was okay. They had guns so it’d be okay, but you were the one–

“Listen to me!” Natsuya hisses, yanking your attention back to him. “I need you safe, so take Tomori and lock yourself in the bathroom right now. You don’t open that door no matter what, not ‘til I come back and tell you it’s safe, do you understand me?”

You find yourself nodding, a short jerking movement.

It’s enough for Natsuya, who presses a quick, desperate kiss to the crown of your head and takes you to Tomori. She grips your hand tight and the two of you disappear into the bathroom, one last glance at the three of them, grim faced and vengeful, gathering their weapons under the green glow before the doors shut, and you click the lock into place.

The two of you sit in the darkness, Tomori’s arm around your shoulders, sniffling into your shoulder as you wait.

You hold her, a hand running up and down her spine, tears of your own spilling down your cheeks.

Your fault, your fault, your fault. All of this is your fault.

Tomori flinches with every noise, every muffled thump. There’s a deafening bang somewhere on the floor above you – a gunshot maybe, or something falling, it’s hard to tell.

Your fault. Your fault. Your fault.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, clutching her closer as she whimpers – the only reassurance you can bring yourself to give her. “It’s okay.”

How could this happen, you think numbly. For months now, you’ve sat next to a murderer, talked with him. Laughed with him.

You thought him a protector. A friend, even.

And you all but begged them to let him inside.

Ayumu’s blood’s on your hands. You might all die here tonight and it’s entirely your fault.

‘I know him,’ you’d told them. ‘I know him, and it’s okay.’

The look he’d given you, that smirk. Like he knew every thought that was running through your head. Like none of this was accidental, but the pieces of a puzzle falling slowly into place.

A defiler.

Bile creeps up your throat, and it occurs to you that death might not be the only thing waiting for you and Tomori if Kakucho finds you.

The tears fall quicker, and you close your eyes and bite down on your quivering bottom lip.

Locked away in the darkness, time crawls by. Minutes, maybe, or hours – there’s no way of knowing how much time has passed when you hear the tell tale sound of metal groaning, the splintering of wood. Tomori moans in despair, sobbing uncontrollably now as the front door gives way.

“It’s fine,” you soothe, “It’s okay.”

It’s a lie, because while the others – if they’re still alive (they have to be alive, they have to be) – are distracted with Kakucho, all that’s between you and the smiling intruder is a locked door.

Far less indestructible than the one he just broke through.

And soft as they may be, you hear the footsteps echoing off the wooden floorboards as the intruder leisurely makes his way down the hall. Closer and closer. Desperately, you try to quiet Tomori, but it makes no difference. He comes to a stop on the other side of the door.

Bringing a hand to your mouth, you bite down on the back of your palm in an effort to stifle your breathing. Tomori cringes.

When the door opens, you’ll attack, you decide. Go for the eyes, or knee him in the crotch – anything to give Mori a chance to run.

A heavy, pregnant pause, and then–

“I know you’re in there. Hiding away while your friends are getting hacked to pieces.” You can’t see it, but you know he’s smiling, grinning on the other side of the door. You can hear it in his voice. And you hate him, hate him even as paralysing fear claws its way through you, keeping you rooted in place. “That’s fine, I don’t mind. You can stay there for a little while longer, I still have one last thing to take care of, and then we can have some fun, no?”

He laughs then, light and boyish, as if this is nothing more than a game. To him, perhaps it isn’t.

“I’ll see you soon.”

In any case, his footsteps recede, and you’re left sitting in the darkness alone with your fear once more.

The thumping upstairs grows louder. There’s a crash and more yelling, a series of gunshots.

And then the screaming starts. Awful, bloodcurdling howls that have every hair on your body standing on end. Your stomach roils, what little you’d eaten earlier forcing its way back up your throat as you retch into the toilet, shaking and pale.

“We’re gonna die here, aren’t we?” Tomori whispers, and you can’t find the strength within yourself to try and convince her otherwise. If you survive this, those screams won’t ever leave you. You’ll wake in the middle of the night, gasping for air, unable to shake them.

“I don’t know.”

Silence, when it falls, feels like a death knell.

And then come the footsteps. You wait with bated breath, praying that it’s Natsuya. Miyano. Even Suwabe. Any of your friends.

A knock; the sound ricocheting through you. “Love, are you gonna open the door for me?”

Tomori wails like a banshee, broken and agonised, and you feel that little, tiny spark of hope you’d kept deep within your chest wink out.

“I’m sorry,” you tell her, kissing her hair as you hold her close. “I’m so sorry, Mori.”

And as the door shudders under the force of a kick, you hold her close and pray for a quick end. Another kick, and the wood splinters.

A third, and it breaks open entirely.

That eerie, green light floods the bathroom, the blond man stepping inside. He smiles at you, blood flecked across his face. The blood of your friends. Natsuya’s maybe.

“Ah, I thought there was one missing. She’s in here,” he calls out, glancing over his shoulder.

For a heartbeat, confusion flickers beneath the terror. Did he bring others with him? Maybe that’s how he broke in so quickly, maybe there’s a whole gang of them.

Your unspoken question, however, is answered when another figure steps into the bathroom behind him.

“She won’t be a problem.”

Your blood turns to ice.

Kakucho. Tall, broad and looming, he surveys the two of you with interest, his gaze lingering on you. “Are you gonna come quietly or am I gonna have to drag you out?” he asks, a single eyebrow raised.

To your credit, you try to stand. You might not be brave, but you’re not suicidal either. If there’s any chance that compliance gets you or Tomori out of here, even if these monsters killed Natsuya and the others, you’ll do what they ask.

Yet your legs are shaking so bad that you barely make it to your feet before they give out beneath you. Kakucho tuts, sighing heavily – and sweeps in to lift you up into his arms as if you weigh nothing at all, paying no mind to the way that you flinch and shudder.

The blond pads out behind you as Kakucho carries you back into the living room.

You’re half expecting to be shoved to your knees, the barrel of a gun pressed to the back of your head, but Kakucho sets you down gently on the couch, pats the top of your head twice before retreating back to the bathroom.

The blond stays behind, those violet eyes a sickly colour under the green glow fixated curiously on you. Your hands are shaking in your lap as he draws closer.

“I bought you something,” he says.

You frown, tongue darting out to wet your lips as you mumble, “W-what?”

From the pocket he pulls out a velvet box, pressing into your hands as he settles down beside you. “Open it.”

Swallowing tightly, you fumble with the lid for a moment – until he sighs and takes it back from you, popping it open and handing it right back to you.

And you don’t understand when you take it back, because nestled into the white pillow is a necklace with a pendant, a hanafuda design, matching the earrings dangling from his lobes.

“Well? Are you going to put it on?” he asks, just as Kakucho returns with a squirming Tomori. Yet rather than setting her down the couch as he had with you, he drops her carelessly onto the floor in a tangle of limbs and retreats again – this time back towards the stairs.

You start to rise with the intention of helping her, only to be stopped by an iron grip around your wrist. “If you get up from this couch, I’ll put a bullet through her brain right here and now, do you understand?”

He says it so mildly, the threat takes a second to register.

When it does, though, you nod shakily and fall back to your seat. He smiles again, a mirthful twinkle in his eyes. “Good girl.” He pats your knee, “Now, put it on for me.”

Casting a quick glance to Tomori, prone and near catatonic on the floor, you do as he bids, lifting the thing chain from the box. It’s long enough for you to slip it over your head without having to fiddle with the clasp – a good thing, seeing as your fine motor skills seem to have abandoned you in your terror. The pendant falls between your breasts, which the blond man takes a good, long moment to admire.

“Suits you,” is all he says as Kakucho returns once more.

And drops another body on the floor.

Your heart seizes in your chest as it moves. Groans and lifts his head, blinking to adjust to the dim light.

“Nats–” you cry, and forgetting the blond at your side you go to rise once more. This time he snarls, quiet and vicious, seizing your shoulder and forcing you back down.

“Don’t. Be. Rude.”

You draw in a shallow breath, hope and despair warring inside of you as you glance from Natsuya to Kakucho, who manhandles him onto his knees. His face is bruised and bloody, a dark, wet-looking patch you can only assume to be blood seeping from one of his thighs.

He’s alive, though. Put through the wringer but alive.

You almost sob.

Beside him, Tomori’s also being raised to her knees, the dead look in her eyes fading somewhat as she takes in the sight of her brother.

Your gut clenches.

Both of them are facing you, Kakucho looming threateningly behind them. Despite the momentary joy, this isn’t a happy reunion.

The blond at your side hums, leaning in close. With a delicate touch, he sweeps back a lock of hair, tucking it behind your ear. The hand on your knee drifts higher, grazing along the inside of your thigh.

“You get a choice, think of it as… a going away present,” he says. The warmth of his breath fans across your skin, his hand now slipping beneath your skirt. You shudder, trying to blink back the hot tears that well up in your eyes. You refuse to cry in front of him, you refuse to give him the satisfaction. Amusement and something like glee dances across his face, “One of them dies now; quick and relatively painless. The other…” his fingers brush the seat of your underwear, his tongue darting out to lick at the stray tear that slips from your lashes. His voice dips, “The other gets to watch while the three of us have our fun tonight.”

Natsuya snarls, only for Kakucho to kick him back to the ground and keep him there with a foot on his back.

“And a-afterwards?” you force the words out.

“Afterwards, Kakucho’s going to beat the other one to death with his bare fucking fists. I wasn’t lying when I told you he was violent,” his lips brush your cheek, featherlight and gentle, “I wasn’t lying about any of it.”

You look to Kakucho then, his eyes bearing down on you with a hunger he doesn’t bother to hide. An obsession.

All those nights, sitting on the train next to him. All the stupid, meaningless conversations you’d had, the night he’d damn near knocked the lights out of that creep. The way he’d begged on the doorstep, and the smirk when his ruse was discovered.

Lies, all of it lies.

You draw in a shaky breath and close your eyes, hands tightening into fists by your lap.

“So tell me, love,” he continues, fingers once again teasing at your panties. “Which one goes first?”

#yandere tokyo revengers #yandere izana #yandere izana x reader #yandere kakucho #yandere kakucho x reader #yandere kurokawa izana x reader #yandere kurokawa izana #tw: dubcon #tw: noncon #more implied than anything else but #to be on the safe side

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munsonownsmyass · 2 years

Text

Something to fight for

Joel Miller x reader

Summary: Just when all hope seems lost, a stranger comes to your rescue. Maybe this will be the start of something new?

Author’s note: First time writing Joel, so please be gentle. This is unbeta’ed and unedited. But I wanted to share it. I have an idea for a part two if people like this one.

Warnings: Death, blood, treating wounds. A little pining. A little fluff.

Worth fighting for masterlist - Part 2

Your breathing is fast, coming out in painful short pants as you turn another corner. Against your better judgement you lean against the wall, trying to catch your breath, lungs feeling like they are burning. You’ll never get used to running.

“We need to move!”

Lucas pushes you forward, staying behind you. Always protective, always making sure he is between you and the infected. Without him, you’d never have made it this far. Between gunshots, he urges you to move faster, to keep running. The guttural voices of the dead gets closer, no matter how fast you run. Climbing the staircase fast, you manage to put some distance between yourself and the dead.

Knowing it’ll make little difference, Lucas barricades the door, before running after you. Focused on him, you barely see the edge of the building. Stopping just in time, you stare over the edge. Trapped between the dead and a 10-foot jump, you begin to wonder if this is it. Lucas unclips the mag, counting the bullets.

“8 left…” his voice trembling, eyes slowly finding yours. He gestures to your gun, already knowing the answer. You’ve spent your last bullets when the horde first found you, having nothing left but a pocketknife.

“Right. Okay. I-I’ll…” he looks towards the door, slowing being pushed open, the horrible guttural growls filling the empty building. “I’ll keep them busy while you get away. You have to jump.”

“No! Lucas, I won’t leave you.” you beg. But he doesn’t listen, too focused on the dead closing in. With the door almost open, time is running out.

“You have too. I promised mom and dad to protect you.” his voice breaks as he pulls you into a hug. “I’m so sorry…” He sobs, before pushing you away, turning towards the door. Weeping, you turn to the edge, not looking back. If you look at Lucas, you know you’ll never be able to leave him. As the first shot pierces through the air, you jump.

Crashing to the ground, pain shots through your body. Unsure if something is broken, you let out a string of curses. Those damned superhero movies make landings look so fucking easy, but you quickly call bullshit. Pushing of the ground, your whole body is hurting, but you have to get up, have to get moving.

When you try to stand, your knees give in as an unbearable pain shoot through your leg. Looking down, you see blood spilling from a gash in your thigh, slowly turning your jeans red. Shit. Shit shit shit. You’d have to look for shelter, had to find some bandages and clean water. Maybe even-

A loud thud pulls you back to the horrors of your reality. One of the infected jumped from the building, clawing at the ground to get up. Another one ready at the edge to follow in the first one’s footsteps. Injured leg or not, you have to get going. Fuck.

Your lungs are on fire, hurting. Looking down, your jeans are more red than blue. But you have to keep moving, have to stay alive. For Lucas. The pain makes you sob, hot tears streaming down your cheeks. Suppressing a cry, you push forward.

At every little noise, you turn in panic, afraid the dead is gaining in on you. You hear them, in the distance. The rapid beating of your heart almost muffles the sound of them, but you know they’re still there. Closing in. You turn around a corner, heading for the main street, when a sound makes you stop dead in your tracks.

5 dead to the side, silently coming closer. Trying to ignore the pain you push yourself to run. Run until your lungs again are aching from the lack of air, your sides stinging. Barely able to focus, you feel lightheaded. This is not good. The blood is spilling from your thigh. Shit. What if it hit an artery? Fuck. You’re running out of time.

Finally reaching the main street, you’re so close to breaking, so close to giving up. Sobbing quietly, you know you have to keep running, to find shelter. But what’s the point? You’re probably gonna die from blood loss anyway. And even if you don’t, you’re alone now. Completely alone.

You look down the street, only to see a man crossing the street quietly. You suspect your plea will fall for deaf ears, but still you try, desperately hoping for a miracle.

“Please… Please help me!”

The man turns to you and for a second, you fear he will ignore you, hide. But he takes off, running towards you. As he gets closer, he yells for you to get down, before pulling a gun from his waistband. Gunshots fill the air, silencing the growls behind you. Filled with relief, you look into the eyes of your savior.

“T-thank you” you breathe out, breathing strained from exhaustion and pain. The strangers’ eyes fall on your thigh, the grip on his gun tightening as his deep brown eyes search yours.

Holding up your hands up in a silent plea, your voice almost breaks as you speak. “Please… I’m not infected, I swear. I fell on some glass.”

“You start growling and snapping your teeth and I won’t hesitate to kill you.” he warns sternly before holding out his hand for you to take. Helping you back on your feet, his eyes never leave your wound. You groan from the pain, but suppress it, not wanting to seem too weak.

“Come on! We need to get inside. Can you run?”

Looking directly into his eyes, you do your best to seem strong. “I sure as hell can try.”

For a split second, the stranger almost looks impressed. He nods, before the sound of throaty growls gets louder. The stranger puts his arm around you, dragging you with him down the main street. Soon the two of you reach a pharmacy. Once inside, the stranger quickly let’s go of you as he searches for something to barricade the door with. You try to help, but he ends up doing most of the work, ushering you to sit down and be quiet as he pulls a fridge over to cover the door.

And not a moment too soon, cause a second later the infected reach the door, nails clawing at the glass. The stranger backs away, his eyes never leaving the door. Silence then falls between you, as you wait for the danger to pass. The minutes tick by slowly as you sit there, praying for them to move on.

After what feels like an eternity, the sounds of the dead are gone, left are only the thud of your heart pounding wildly in your chest.

“I can’t thank you enough for saving me.” You say quietly, still afraid to make too much noise. Moving slightly, your thigh hurts again. The tears in your eyes burns, a feeling of hopelessness falling over you.

“Don’t mention it.” He replies, looking towards you, gesturing to your wound. “How’s the leg?”

Wanting nothing more than to break down and cry, you hold back the tears as you look into his eyes. “It’s fine…. I’m fine…”. You try your best to shrug it off, to seem strong, but as you move to get up, the pain makes you cry out. Giving up, you sit back down. Without a working leg, you’re not gonna last long.

“Fuck.” Its barely above a whisper, but you’re sure the man heard you. Looking to the ground, you wait for him to realize you’re a lost cause. But to your surprise, he moves closer, softly inspecting your wound. Despite his rough appearance, he is surprisingly gentle. Examining the gory gash, his face says it all. Either your leg is fucked, or it’ll take a long time to heal. A death sentence either way. The dam finally breaks.

“I… I’m so sorry. I’m usually not this pathetic. It’s just…” you pause, sobbing. “My brother just died. I’m all alone and now this…” You gesture aggressively towards the injured leg, sniffling. Wiping away some of the tears, you try to compose yourself, before looking into the man’s eyes again.

“You… you should just leave me.”

“Yeah… yeah, I probably should.” He drawls as he looks around the pharmacy. Pushing himself off the floor, he searches the shelves. A small glimmer of hope runs through you when he doesn’t immediately take his bag and leaves. Shortly after, he returns with what can only be for a DIY operation.

“There’s a shard of glass in your wound. Most likely doesn’t help with the pain. Have you got an extra t-shirt you don’t mind ruining?”

Nodding softly, you reach into the bag to pull out the shirt as the man prepares the supplies. As he tears up the shirt, you softly thank him for not leaving you.

“Haven’t left you yet.” His eyes meet yours briefly, before looking down at the wound again. His words don’t surprise you. Not really. You wouldn’t put it past him to leave you once he has helped with your leg, but deep down you hope he won’t. As he inspects the damage, you can’t help but look at him. His deep chocolate brown eyes. The patchy beard with small specs of grey hair covering his cheeks and jaw. His-

“I’m not sure how well you deal with pain, but this is gonna hurt like a motherfucker and it would be best if you didn’t scream.”

You nod softly, hoping he didn’t catch you looking at him. Leaning back against the wall, you prepare for pain as the stranger picks up a pair of forceps, ready to remove the glass shard. With one last nod of confirmation, he begins.

Never in your life had anything hurt more. The prodding of the forceps, the edges of the glass cutting into your flesh. The stranger works fast, occasionally whispering apologies to you, as he does his best to help you. When the shard is finally out, you breathe a sigh of relief as more tears stream down your cheeks. He gives you a moment, before gently cleaning the wound.

“That hurt like hell, but thank you.” you sniffle, wiping your face as you try to compose yourself. The stranger wraps you up gently, his calloused hands moving softly over your bruised skin. Embarrassed, you realize you’re getting flustered over this simple touch. But then again, the world has ended, so you’ve had other things to think about. But right now as his hands touch your sensitive skin, you feel yourself missing the touch of another human. Clearing your throat, you try to pull yourself together.

“I’m y/n. What’s your name?”

“Joel.” he says softly as he sits up a little straighter and wipes his hands on his jeans, before holding it out for you to take. “Can you stand?”

“I think so… Definitely feels better.” You say with a smile before taking his hand. Taking a few steps, you test the strength of your leg. It’s not perfect but sure beats the alternative. Feeling his eyes on you, you turn to find Joel’s eyes fixed on your leg, probably assessing if you’ll be a liability or not. If you’re worth the risk.

Silence falls between you. You don’t wanna be left alone, but in a world like this trust isn’t something that comes easily. Yet, as you look into those deep chocolate eyes, you already know you’d trust this man with your life.

“So… Where to now?” you try cautiously, fidgeting with your fingers.

“Well… Have you ever been to Jackson?”

The walk through the town is done in silence. Used to talking a lot with your brother, the silence is maddening. Afraid that Joel will get annoyed by you, you keep quiet. He’s already gone out of his way to help you, put his own life in danger to save yours, so you stay behind him.

Every now and then, he looks back to make sure your still with him. He told you just to say whenever you needed a break, but you figure the more you walk before sundown, the quicker you can get to Jackson. After a while, Joel is the first to break the silence.

“So… Are you from around here?” he asks softly, slowing down so he walks beside you.

“Ehm, not really… it’s a long story.” You shrug, unsure if he want’s the whole story or he was just trying to be polite. Still, as you enter the cemetery, you decide to tell him. “I was actually here on vacation with my family when all hell broke loose.”

The memory makes you tear up. It was always overwhelming to think about your parents, so you tried not to. But now, with Lucas gone too, you realized how truly alone you were. Sure, you had Joel, but he was a stranger.

“I thought there was a bit of an accent. Where fr-” He begins, but stop when he sees tears slowly streaming down your cheeks. You don’t even try to hide it anymore, just continue walking towards the church. Trying to steer the conversation away from yourself, you ask about Joel’s home. He tells a little about Austin and what he’s done before he met you. You want to give a little back, so you finally tell about your home.

“But you probably don’t know where that is.” You say with a smile. Joel stops and for the first time since you met him, he laughs.

“Lady, just because I'm from Texas doesn't mean I was raised in a barn. We had schools... And I was actually pretty fond of geography.”

Suddenly, Joel seems much more relaxed and you can’t help but laugh with him. Ashamed, you gently touch his arm and giggle.

“Shit, I’m so sorry.”

He just smiles, clearly taking no offense. You look at him, the smile on his face making him look much younger and lighter.

“You should do that more often you know.” You say softly. When he gives you a puzzled look, you just grin and nudge his shoulder with your own. “Smiling. It suits you.”

You could swear there’s a faint blush on his cheeks as he looks away. Biting your bottom lip, you look to the ground, suddenly feeling better than you have in a long time. Okay, so he was very handsome. And he had the whole hero thing going on. Or maybe you’d just been without a man for too long, but you can’t deny that a warm, pleasant feeling is spreading through your body.

Joel stops at the church, removing a huge chain from the doors, seemingly relieved that the padlock hasn't been removed. Something is moving around in there and by instinct you grab onto Joel, hide behind his broad frame. He just chuckles lightly, looking at your hand on his arm.

“Stay behind me. He’s a bit skittish around new people.”

Cautiously, you follow him into the church, instinctly reaching for your pocketknife. But when you see the source of the noise, you instantly relax. A horse. You couldn’t even remember the last time you’d seen one of those.

“He’s beautiful”

Joel walks closer, gently caressing the gelding’s cheek. The horse huffs out a breath, nudging at Joel’s chest. Apologizing for not having any treats, the gelding turns his attention to you. Joel gestures for you to come closer, slowly so you don’t scare the horse.

“I’ve always loved horses. Had one when I was younger.” you say quietly, extending your hand carefully until you caress his muzzle and cheeks. “What’s his name?”

“Old beardy.” Joel smiles softly as your eyes meet. “-or at least I think it's the horse they've been referring to.” he laughs softly as he scratches his own bearded jaw.

Joel’s words make you laugh, for the first time forgetting about everything around you. He might seem quiet, closed off, but you get a feeling that beneath the rough exterior, there’s a sweet man hidden. You know survival should be your top priority right now, but you start to look forward to a few days in Joel’s company. And maybe, hopefully, he feels the same.

He turns to you with a soft smile, patting Old Beardy on the shoulder. “Ready to head to Jackson?”

You know the journey will be long and tough, but the prospect of what lies ahead makes you smile. For the first time in a long time, you have hope.

Feedback is much appreciated. Be kind and reblog. support your local writers.

Tagging: @mindidjarin @idrinkcoffeeandobsess @e-dubbc11 @lucy-sky

Also soft tagging a few people who might like Joel. Please just tell me if you don’t want to be tagged: @writerwoed @kirsteng42 @iamskyereads @littlemisspascal @scorpio-marionette @misspearly1 @missbeewrites @chasingdreamer

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #tlou #pedro pascal fanfiction

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herrmannhalsteadproduction · 4 months

Text

That Herrmann/Halstead DNA (Chapter Six)

Summary: This is Part Twenty-One of my series A Herrmann/Halstead Production. It is an AU where Christopher Herrmann's mom had an affair with Pat Halstead resulting in a baby. The series follows this OC character (Rebecca "Bex" Herrmann) as she grows up and gets to know her brothers and the various Chicago teams. It is very much an AU, just to underscore that. It doesn't follow the same timeline and characters will follow different paths.

Click here for the Series Rundown where you can find the links to read all of the previous installments (which I highly recommend you do so that this one makes sense.)

Rating: Mature

Relationships: Christopher Herrmann & Original Female Character, Jay Halstead & Original Female Character, Will Halstead & Original Female Character, Jay Halstead & Will Halstead, Greg 'Mouse' Gerwitz/Original Female Character, Will Halstead/Connor Rhodes, Assorted OC Couples

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Assault, Stabbing, Gunshot Wounds, Blood and Injury, Whump, Trauma, Eventual Hopeful Ending

A/N: I received my degree from the medical school of Television Drama which means while things might not (*cough* will not *cough*) be accurate, they will be exciting. *jazz hands*

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Two minutes earlier

***

Maggie

“It’s just down this way,” Maggie said as she led Ethan, April, and Nat to Bex’s room. They’d all finished their shifts around the same time and none of them felt right about leaving until they’d had a chance to check in on her.

And on Will and Connor and Herrmann and the whole gang really.

She shook her head. Her heart ached for them.

At least they knew Bex was going to be okay and they’d heard that her friend made it through surgery. Now they could all focus on healing.

Maggie went to knock on Bex’s door when they reached it, frowning when she saw it was open a crack. She still tapped on it quietly before pushing it open—

“Oh, my god!” Maggie gasped at the sight in front of her and rushed forward with the others on her heels.

Bex was sprawled back unconscious against her pillows as a thin stream of blood trickled down the side of her face. Ethan and Nat pushed ahead of Maggie and instantly began a careful examination.

“Head lac’s not too bad,” Ethan said, gently shifting Bex’s hair. “Gonna need a couple of stitches though.”

“Pupils are equal and reactive.” Nat leaned in close and patted Bex’s cheek. “Bex? Come on, Bex, wake up.”

There was a soft groan followed by Bex’s eyelids fluttering, struggling to open.

“What the hell happened?” April whispered to Maggie. “Where is everyone? Why is she all alone?”

All questions she’d love the answers to herself. “I don’t know, but we—”

“Will,” Bex moaned, struggling to sit up.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Ethan shushed her as he tried to keep her still. “You need to stay put.”

“No, no, you don’t—” Bex pushed his hands away. “Ty. He has a gun. He took Will—”

The bang of a gunshot stole all of the air out of the room.

***

Jay

Jay hurried down the stairs with Hailey close behind him. The entire unit had split up to sweep the building alongside security, but no one had spotted Ty yet.

Part of him wanted to believe that was a good thing. That maybe Ty wasn’t headed their way.

But Jay knew better.

Hailey was right. Ty wasn’t going to let Emery go and the clock was ticking on them finding him before he got to her.

Bex’s floor was their next stop. Jay pushed open the door and stepped into the hallway. “I’m going to check in on Bex and let Will know what’s going on,” he said to Hailey.

“I’ll come with,” she said. “I’d like to—”

They both froze as a sound both familiar and yet horribly out of place tore down the hall.

Between one heartbeat and the next, they were both off and running in the direction of the shot.

***

Mouse

Mouse was halfway up the stairwell when he heard it.

His body reacted before his brain did. The shot rang out and he was already running, desperately trying to get to Bex as his mind managed to cobble together one thought.

Don’t let it be her.

***

Connor

The gun went off, deafening inside of the elevator, and Connor braced himself for the pain.

Pain that never came.

He opened his eyes on a shaky breath. Blinking through the spray of blood that had somehow made its way onto his face.

Ty stared back at him with wild eyes, arm still stretched out with the gun in his hand. He jolted when the elevator doors started to close and Connor flinched at the movement.

“Fuck this,” Ty muttered, before stepping back and running off down the hall.

Connor stood there, stunned, until a ragged gasp came from the ground and he looked down to see Will, lying there, and...

Oh.

There was the pain.

“Will!” Connor dropped to his knees beside him, pressing his hands into the rapidly spreading stain on his scrubs, trying to stem the bleeding. Will groaned at the touch, shaking his head.

“No—”

“I’m sorry,” Connor said. “You know I have to—”

“No, not me—” Will gritted his teeth. He reached up to grab at Connor’s wrist. “Bex. He hit her. She—”

“I’ll make sure she’s okay, but right now, stopping you from bleeding out is the priority.” Connor bit off a curse as the elevator doors tried to close on them again. “I’m sorry, this is gonna hurt.”

He got his arms under Will and pulled him out into the hallway. Will’s cry of pain rang in his ears as Connor whispered apologies, trying to move him as efficiently as possible.

“Help!” Connor called out as he got Will repositioned. “I need help over here! Now!” ***

Bex

“Will!” Bex screamed, lurching forward at the sound of the shot. Steady hands pushed her back. “We have to go! We have to help him!”

“We don’t know what’s happening,” Ethan said. “We can’t charge out into an active shooter situation. And you are not leaving that bed.” He shot a look at Natalie who kept her spot beside Bex with a firm nod. “Everyone stay back. I’m going to lock the door.”

“No,” Bex cried, sagging into Nat’s hold. “Ty took him. He—Will went so he wouldn’t take me—and now he—he needs help—” She sobbed, trying to get the right words out so they’d understand and stop wasting time and go and help him.

“Help!” Connor’s voice came through the doorway, faint, but clear. “I need help over here! Now!”

Ethan wrenched the door open and ran out.

“I’ll go,” April called out over her shoulder as she followed. “You two stay with Bex.”

“No,” Bex looked up at Nat and Maggie. “I’m okay. Please, go help them.”

The two of them had a silent conversation over her head. “We’re not leaving you,” Maggie said. “But I’ll take a look and see if I can tell what’s happening.”

Bex swallowed a groan as pain shot through her head as soon as she nodded her agreement. She did her best not to let it show. She had to know if Will—if he was okay.

Maggie stepped over to the doorway and poked her head out into the hall. Whatever she saw had her inhaling sharply. Natalie walked over briskly to join her.

Bex’s head was swimming. He had to be okay.

He had to be.

Ty couldn’t take him too.

Not Will.

She needed to see for herself. Bex forced her body to sit up and got her legs over the side of the bed. The whimper she couldn’t quite smother got Maggie and Natalie’s attention, but by then Bex had already managed to get to her feet.

“No, Bex! What are you doing?”

She tried to tell them that she needed to check on Will. Tried to wave them off as they rushed toward her, but then her legs were buckling and she felt herself going sideways, losing consciousness before she hit the floor.

***

Mouse

Mouse burst out through the stairwell door into the hallway and came face to face with a sweaty, shaking asshole.

This is the one, Mouse’s brain screamed. He hurt Bex.

Ty reared back at the sight of him, thrown for a moment before his face hardened and he lifted his arm.

One with a fucking gun in his hand.

Mouse didn’t give him a chance to point it at him. He stepped into his space, disarming Ty swiftly and passing the gun back to Ed who had come up behind them.

Ty yelled in frustration, struggling in Mouse’s grip and a dark part of Mouse, the one who wanted this man’s blood, loosened his hold.

Come on. He watched as Ty straightened up. Saw him weighing his options.

Go for it, you piece of shit.

Mouse saw the moment Ty decided to strike, blocking the hit easily and lashing out with one of his own. Ty doubled over, clutching at his stomach. Mouse followed it up with a solid punch across his jaw.

“That was for Emery,” he said as Ty staggered back. Another blow had Ty’s eyes rolling back as he fell to the ground. “And that was for Bex.” Mouse turned back to Ed. “You good here?”

“Yup,” Ed said, leaning against the wall as he unloaded the gun. “I’ve got this. You go—”

“Help! I need help over here! Now!”

Mouse was already running down the hall. He slowed down as he neared the elevator, seeing Connor kneeling down beside Will and blood—so much blood.

Ethan and April came running from Bex’s room and immediately dove in to help Connor.

Will had been shot.

But he’d—he’d been with Bex. So was she—

Mouse’s breath came quicker as he stopped himself from finishing that thought.

“Mouse,” Will whispered and Connor’s head whipped up to look at him.

“Good, you’re here,” he said, all tense business as he focused on Will’s injuries. “Go check on Bex, please. Will needs to know someone’s with her.”

“I’ll take care of her,” Mouse said, meeting Will’s eyes. “I’ve got her.”

Will nodded weakly before passing out cold.

“And I’ve got him,” Connor said, barely sparing Mouse half a glance. “Go.”

Trusting Connor to be as true to his word as Mouse was to his, he took off again.

Straight to Bex.

***

Jay

The hall seemed to stretch on forever as Jay ran as fast as he could, heart in his throat as he braced himself for whatever he was going to walk in on this time.

Images of Bex battered and bruised were still so fresh in his mind.

He didn’t know what he’d do if—

If he could handle—

No.

Jay skidded to a stop as he reached the elevator, pushing his way through a huddle of doctors and nurses—stepping around a puddle of blood—

Again.

“Will,” he managed to croak out as he tripped forward, watching his brother get loaded onto a gurney. His face so incredibly pale.

“We have to get him up to surgery, Jay,” Connor said, already moving toward the open elevator. He didn’t even look up, not able to take his eyes or his hands off of Will. A spray of blood covered his face and chest. He looked…

Determined.

Jay could work with determined.

He stepped back, giving them the space to load Will up. Connor spared him a single glance and Jay nodded at him.

I’m trusting you with him.

Connor nodded back, immediately returning his focus to Will as the doors closed.

Jay looked around, eyes landing on April in the middle of the still unfolding chaos and made his way over to her. Hailey followed, a solid presence at his side.

“April.” Her eyes snapped up at him as he approached and Jay caught the slight tremor of her hands. “What happened?” he asked, softening his voice.

“That guy, um, Ty,” she stammered out. “He found Bex’s room—”

“What—”

Hailey stopped him from running off. “We need to know everything,” she murmured and she was right. He fucking hated it, but she was right.

“Um, he, uh, he knocked her out, but Nat and Maggie are with her right now and I think she’s okay,” April continued. “She said something about him taking Will. I don’t know exactly what happened, but we heard the shot and then Connor was calling for help. I think—I think Mouse knocked that Ty guy out down the hall.” She jerked a nod over her shoulder. “I’m sorry, that’s—that’s all I know.”

“No, that’s—thank you.” Jay gave her shoulder a grateful squeeze and then hurried down the hall to where April said Ty was.

And where he was actually spread out on the floor, semi-conscious with a nice-sized welt already forming on his face. Mouse’s friend stood over him, pieces of a disassembled gun in his hands.

“You’re gonna want these,” he said, handing it all over to Hailey.

The stairwell door behind them burst open and the rest of his team came spilling out into the hall. Voight’s sharp eyes took in the scene in front of him and down the hall. “Halstead,” he said. “Upton.”

The what the hell? was left unspoken.

But Jay—he honestly didn’t have any answers for him.

He was done.

He just needed to be with his family.

“Sir—”

“We’ve got this, Jay,” Voight cut him off. “Go be with Bex. Upton can fill me in and I’ll check on you later.”

Jay could only nod.

He left them there and walked off toward Bex’s room. No running. He needed minute. To get himself together and figure out how he was going to face Bex and tell her…

Tell her what?

That Will was hurt? Dying?

That he’d been too late to help his siblings again?

Jay dragged a hand down his face, scrubbing the tears out of his eyes.

Footsteps came running down the hallway, slowing as they pulled up beside him and he looked over to see Hailey walking along beside him. She didn’t look at him; just kept her gaze forward as she walked in step.

Jay sniffed and let out a shaky breath.

They headed for Bex’s room.

Together.

***

Bex

“Bex. Bex!” Someone was patting at her face and Bex tried to brush them off, but she couldn’t move. Everything felt heavy. It was—something was wrong. What was—

“Will,” she gasped, forcing her eyes open and then flinching back at the harsh lights.

“He’s in good hands,” Maggie said. “You just need to stay put, okay?”

Bex didn’t think she could move even if she wanted to, but then her stomach heaved. “Gon’ be sick,” she managed to mumble before turning to the side. Natalie had the little garbage can under her lightning quick and managed to catch it all.

Pain lanced through Bex’s head as she fell back into Maggie’s arms.

“Just rest for a minute, sweetie,” Maggie said quietly, holding a hand over Bex’s eyes to help shield her from the bright overheads.

“Will,” Bex whispered. “What’s—”

“Bex!” Mouse’s voice rang out in the room and both Nat and Maggie shushed him. Bex felt him get close to her and she nudged Maggie’s hand out of the way so she could squint at him. He was knelt beside her, face stricken as he reached out before pulling his hands back. “Are you—uh, what, uh, what can I—”

“We’re sitting here for a moment,” Maggie said. “And then you’re going to help me get Bex back into bed. She’s got a bad knock on the head. Mild concussion, from the looks of it.”

“It was Ty,” Bex gritted out, grasping for Mouse’s hand. He held onto hers gently and shuffled closer. “Will went out with him and we heard a shot.” Bex was—she was so scared to even ask, but she had to know. “Was it—was it Will? Is he hurt?”

Mouse stared down at their hands for a moment before finally meeting her eyes. “He’s alive,” Mouse said softly and Bex sobbed again at that because alive…alive didn’t mean not hurt.

“Ty shot him,” Mouse continued, knowing she needed to hear it all. “But Connor was there—and he’s okay! He’s not hurt, but he was right there and he’s helping Will. Ethan and April were there too. Connor’s got him.”

Connor.

Bex couldn’t quite get her tears under control yet, but she could breathe a little easier at that. Connor had Will. No one would fight harder for him than Connor.

“We got Ty,” Mouse continued. “Ed’s watching him and I expect the team is there now so don’t worry about that.”

“…Ed?” She must have a concussion because that didn’t make a whole lot of sense.

“I’ll, uh, I’ll tell you the whole story later,” Mouse said. “The important thing is that Ty’s not going to be hurting anyone else.”

Bex hated that part of her couldn’t believe that.

She took a shaky breath and flinched as a stab of pain went through her side.

“Can we—is it okay to move her now?” Mouse asked Maggie. “This can’t be comfortable.”

“I fixed the bed,” Nat’s voice came from somewhere on the left. “We can bring her up.”

The three of them moved her as carefully as they could, but it was still an excruciating ordeal. Bex tried to muffle her cries, holding her breath despite Maggie’s repeated instructions not to.

Mouse looked as wrecked as she felt by the time they got her in place. “Where’s the doctor?” he demanded. “She needs stitches right and more scans and stuff, right? What Ty did more damage? What if—”

“We paged Dr. Fahir,” Natalie said. “She’s on her way and Bex will be looked after.” She squeezed Mouse’s arm as he dragged a hand through his hair. “You’ve got to remember to breathe too, Mouse.”

He muttered something that sounded suspiciously like not possible. Bex held out her un-splinted arm and he carefully took her hand. She pulled him closer.

“Bex—” His hoarse whisper was cut off by two more people bursting into the room.

Jay and Hailey.

“Jay,” Bex croaked out and he was instantly by her side. “Jay, he—Will—”

“I know, I know,” Jay shushed her as he leaned in and gently pressed his forehead to hers. “I just saw and he’s still alive, Bex, okay? He’s fighting. And Connor’s with him. He’s going to be okay. I know he is.”

“You don’t—”

“I do,” Jay said firmly. “Because he knows he’s not allowed to die on us or I’ll bring him back and we’ll kick his ass, right?”

“You can do that?” Bex laughed through her next sob.

“I would figure it out,” Jay vowed and Bex—she believed him.

“He’s going to be okay,” she repeated.

Jay nodded. “Or else.”

***

Chris

Chris and Cindy had taken their time saying good-bye, taking advantage of the relative privacy of the parking garage to sink into each other’s arms for a moment and cry for a bit.

Then all too soon they’d pulled apart because she had to get back to their kids at home and he had to get back to their kids upstairs.

Falling apart completely had to wait. Right now, they had to be the parents.

He’d taken the stairs up to Bex’s floor since the elevator was taking forever and honestly?

He could use the walk.

Every inch of his body was filled with a crackling energy that Chris had nowhere to put. He wanted to hit something. Preferably Ty’s face. He wanted to scream and yell and rage until he had nothing left.

But he couldn’t do that.

He had to be the strong one right now. The solid one. He couldn’t let himself be emptied out when the rest of them needed so much from him.

So, Chris walked up the stairs and used the time to settle himself as best he could. Almost too quickly, he reached Bex’s floor. Reaching out, he opened the door—

And walked into a scene of absolute chaos.

Doctors, nurses, security guards, and cops were all over the place. He grabbed the arm of one familiar face as they dashed by. “Ruzek, what the hell is going on?”

“Oh, shit, Herrmann.” Ruzek’s face went white and that—that was not helping Chris’s stress levels. “Uh, Ty Anderson escaped custody and came to Med,” Ruzek said, scrubbing a hand down his face.

“He what?” Chris’s stomach dropped as he tightened his grip on Ruzek’s arm.

“He overtook his guard, stole their uniform and their gun and made his way over to Med,” Ruzek spit out the facts as quick as he could which Chris would almost appreciate if each one wasn’t more horrible than the last. “We were doing a sweep, but he made it to Bex’s room—”

Chris couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t—

“Is—is Bex—”

“He knocked her out, but I think she’s okay,” Ruzek said. He bit his lip, looking back at the crowd before facing Chris again. “Ty was looking for Emery and Will distracted him somehow. Got him out of Bex’s room, but he—Ty shot Will. I don’t know how bad it is, but Connor was right there so he got help immediately. They’re taking him up to surgery now. Ty’s in custody again and they’re taking him to the station.”

“That’s—jesus, okay, thanks, Ruz.” Chris released his arm and patted his shoulder before stumbling off to Bex’s room. He needed to see her for himself. Make sure she was okay.

And then check on Will—god, Will.

And find Jay. He must be losing his mind.

Okay.

Chris took a deep breath as he neared Bex’s room.

One thing at a time.

Check on Bex.

He entered her room and found another crowd of people there. Dr. Fahir was examining Bex’s side—Chris didn’t miss pained look Bex was trying to hide or the dried blood on the side of her head either.

Mouse stood on the other side of the bed with Jay and Hailey. Nat and Maggie and another nurse were huddled close by behind Dr. Fahir.

Bex spotted him first.

“Chris!”

“Hey, it’s okay, I’m here,” he said, moving forward quickly when it looked like she was going to try and freaking get out of the bed to get to him. “I heard some of what happened and I’m sure there’s more to fill me in on, but first let’s get you taken care of, okay, kid?”

“I’d like to take Bex for some more scans,” Dr. Fahir said, cutting off whatever protest Bex was about to make. “We need to make sure there’s nothing more serious behind the head injury and I’m worried there may have been further injury done to her ribs.”

The other nurse started unhooking things, getting the bed ready to move, and Bex looked between him, Jay, and Mouse, the fear in her eyes speaking volumes.

“I’m going with her,” Mouse said immediately, stepping closer to the bed and taking Bex’s hands.

“That’s not—” Dr. Fahir began, shaking her head, but Jay crossed his arms and leveled a look at her.

“My sister was just attacked in your hospital,” he said. “We’re going to do whatever she needs to make sure she feels safe. I don’t really give a shit about hospital protocol right now.”

Chris rubbed at his forehead before wading in to the fray. He got Jay’s frustration—he felt that same anger down to his bones.

But going on the attack when Bex needed them wasn’t going to get them anywhere.

“Please, Dr. Fahir,” Chris said. “You gotta admit these are extraordinary circumstances right now. And your scans will go better if Bex is calm, right? We’re not asking to all tromp in there with her, even though, believe me, we’d like to. But one person? To help her feel safe?”

Dr. Fahir looked at the wall of them standing there—at Bex’s hand clutching Mouse’s—and sighed. “One person,” she said. “And you can’t stay in the room for all of them, but there’s a microphone and you can keep talking to her.”

“Thank you,” Mouse said quickly, jumping on the offer. “That’s—thank you.”

It took another few minutes for them to get organized, but soon they were wheeling her away with Mouse right by her side.

Chris looked over at Jay who was staring at a patch of blood on the floor. Without a word, Chris walked over and pulled him into a hug.

This time, Jay held him back just as tight.

***

Connor

He couldn’t work on Will.

Connor knew that.

Even if they weren’t—even if Will wasn’t his…wasn’t his—Connor had just finished a grueling surgery of his own and had no business jumping in on another one.

But he couldn’t let Will go through this alone.

Dr. Allan stopped short when she saw him in the scrub room, following his gaze through the window where he watched the nurses getting Will prepped. She kept silent while she scrubbed in. And then sighed.

“You stay in here,” she said quietly. “And you stay quiet.”

Connor nodded tightly. Not trusting himself to say anything and grateful beyond what any words could possibly convey anyway.

He watched them work.

Flipped on the speaker so he could hear.

It was a through and through. That was good. No fragments to deal with.

Will had lost a lot of blood though. So much blood. It was sticky on Connor’s skin.

The proximity of the shot had made for a messy exit wound.

There was damage to his spleen.

Dr. Allan was still checking for more damage when Connor caught a glimpse of his own reflection in the glass. His face and chest covered in streaks of blood. Will’s blood.

Connor’s legs started to shake and he carefully lowered himself to the ground, leaning against the shelves as he sat on the floor. He closed his eyes. Listened to Dr. Allan’s calm voice as she narrated every step of the operation.

That was unusual...and completely for his benefit.

Connor didn’t know how he was going to repay such a kindness.

The door to the scrub room opened and quiet steps made their way towards him. Someone sat down on the floor next to him, taking their hand in his. Connor took a quick glimpse.

Maggie.

She stayed there with him, sitting in silence as they listened to the operation.

After a while, a long while, she finally spoke. “Connor, we should—” she began and he shook his head.

“I can’t—” Connor swallowed hard, starting again. “This is all I can do right now, Maggie. Just let me do this, please.”

He felt her staring at him for a moment before she squeezed his hand and settled back into his side. Another kindness.

Connor held himself even tighter—he couldn’t afford to let himself be undone by these bits of grace—not when Will needed him.

He didn’t know how to explain, didn’t have the words to tell Maggie that this was the only way he had to fight for Will right now.

Will—he had Connor’s heart.

And Connor had his.

So, if he could stay here and breathe and let his heart keep beating…

Will’s would keep beating too.

However long it took, Connor was going to stay here.

Keeping their hearts beating.

Click here to read Chapter Seven.

A/N #2:

First of all, sorry for such a long wait between chapters. There was the holidays and then I had an unexpected deadline come up for the beginning of January, and then I had freaking Covid. So, however bummed you've been, trust me - I was bummier. *sad trombone*

But I'm back now! With a very sad beans chapter, lol! YOU'RE WELCOME!!!

Don't worry - we're moving into the comfort portion of the hurt/comfort in the next chapter.

Thanks for your patience and for sticking around and reading this story. Please feel free to say hi and share your reactions to this chapter! :D

Click here to read That Herrmann/Halstead DNA on ao3:

And here is the tag list (let me know if you wish to be added or removed):

@sorry-i-spaced, @thegirlwhowishedeveryonelived, @ivyalmighty, @thewannabewriter, @lexhalstead3, @multifandomgrl08, @foxes-and-cats, @sensitivemallysix, @thebewingedjewelcat, @emme-looou, @trulylavandedarling

#a herrmann/halstead production #one chicago #chicago fire #chicago pd #chicago med #rebecca 'bex' herrmann #jay halstead #oc character #will halstead #christopher herrmann #greg “mouse” gerwitz x original female character #greg “mouse” gerwitz #greg gerwitz #whump #hurt/comfort #trauma #whump fic #angst

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weronikasstuff · 1 year

Note

And another request, could we get some Ann x Reader angst:

"Ann was having a busy week and was about ready to go home to finaly relax with Reader in her arms. Before she gets to go home however, she is called into yet another murder site. To her shock and utter anguish, the victim was her partner."

Just straight up making it a prompt again.

this is such a genius idea oh my gosh!!!

___________________________________________

videotapes - r.ann

"at night, when it rains i drive, and the headlights spirits, they lead me down the styx, so black it shines" carry me out - mitski

___________________________________________

it was ann’s favourite day of the week.

friday.

the day that she could finally enjoy her well-deserved rest from her difficult job with none other than you.

she spent that friday tapping on her desk, looking up at the clock, calculating just how long it would be until she could embrace you, and spend time with you for two whole days straight.

three hours.

two hours.

one hour.

half an hour.

fifteen minutes.

five minutes.

10 seconds.

ann smiled, as she began packing her things away for the day. it was a pretty boring day - only tons of paperwork to file from recent cases.

just as she was about to leave, she got a phone call, from none other than her boss.

she sighed, knowing something was up. her boss never called her for something good.

“hello?”

“good afternoon ann. we have just had a murder on 4th street, you know the place, six blocks away. bystanders heard gunshots, and i need you to investigate the scene. i know it is technically your holiday, but i feel that you are the most capable of handling this case”

ann signed, slightly frustrated that her partner was going to have to wait for her a while longer.

“i understand. i’ll be right there”

___________________________________________

ann felt something was up.

she could feel the bad feeling approach her when she drove nearer and nearer to the scene, but she couldn’t pinpoint what it was. she just chalked it up to having to see another murder - these things were never pleasant.

as she got out of the car, she made her way over to the scene. the ambulance hadn’t arrived yet - strangely enough. that said, the traffic was very bad that day. as her colleagues were taping up the scene, she went over to the victim, in a black body bag in order to try and find a cause of death easily.

she opened the bag slightly, and gasped.

there was your body, four gunshots in total - one in your arm, two in the chest and one in the forehead, probably the final blow.

she felt sick.

she stumbled inside the restaurant next to the scene, ran to the bathroom, yanked open a cubicle, and threw up.

she rubbed her eyes, and pinched herself.

this couldn’t be happening.

you were fine when she left you in the morning - cuddled up inside your blanket, getting some extra sleep, which you deserved as your job as a lawyer.

so why was she now getting the news that her partner had been shot multiple times?

why her?

why not somebody else?

why not ann?

her hands shook as she grabbed her phone and dialed.

she knew your number by heart.

she was clinging onto the only hope that it wasn’t you.

maybe a lookalike?

maybe a twin?

“sorry, y/n cannot come to the phone right now. please leave a message after the beep”

ann whimpered as she grabbed her chest, the realisation setting in.

she clamped her hand over her mouth as wretched sobs left her throat, muffled by the tight hand.

she had no control over the tears slipping - she didn’t even try to stop them.

she ran her hand through her hair as she rocked back and forth, biting back a scream as she realised what this meant.

why couldn’t you both just go home and watch a movie or something like you did every friday?

she didn’t even realise she was pressing her sharp nails into her palm untl the fresh blood trickled down her hand, contrasting with the now dried blood of yours.

___________________________________________

you laughed, as you and ann made the cookies that were your favourite for your birthday.

ann feels a deep stabbing pain in her chest, yet she keeps watching the video , desperate to see your happy face and hear your voice again.

she was a mess.

her hair was messy, she was wearing three - day - old clothes that she threw on the day of your murder, and hadn;t bothered to shower since.

her nails were short and bitten due to the stress and pain that this has brought her.

she was currently in bed, cuddled in your blankets which smelled just like you, watching old videotapes of you two doing things together.

the videotape clicked, signalling that all the videos had ended.

ann fell backwards onto the bed, not even bothering to move.

and there she lay for the next few hours, thinking about you.

but she didn’t cry once.

she had used it all up the day you were gone.

instead, an empty feeling now stayed.

permanently.

#alice in borderland #ann aib #ann rizuna #aib x reader #alice in borderland x reader #ann x reader #aib fanfic

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scaredcacticle · 5 months

Text

Fire Bomb | ch 3

Stu macher x reader | slowburn

Ring ring

Looking at the clock you scoffed at whoever thought you’d be answering THIS late.

“It’s 2 am you idiot just hang up” you say absentmindedly at the phone as it continue to ring.

But then it rings again… and again……. and again.

“What the fuck do you want,” you angrily say into the phone.

“Why don’t you want to talk to me,” that all too familiar voice from the news replies.

“Oh haha who is this? Are senseless murders really that funny you low-life?” You reply disgusted at whoever was on the other line before hanging up again.

The string of murders recently had everyone on edge or at least the smart ones. And you just so happened to be one of the smart ones.

But just like before the line rings over and over even when you try to ignore for at LEAST 5 minutes.

“My favorite scary movie is Texas chainsaw massacre part 2, something about choptop gets me going,” you reply sarcastically figuring they weren’t going to leave you alone anytime soon.

“How’d you know what I was gonna ask?”

“Well the actual killers ask that every time not that hard to use context clues, are you done now?”

“I am the-“ click

In the middle of their sentence you hang up no longer putting up with the bored individual on the other end, and getting ready for a shower.

But before you even make it out of the living room you hear it.

Bumping

Bumping coming from directly above you, in your bedroom.

Not letting the prank from before get to you, you assume that it’s your cat Porkchop and head up.

Your heart finally settles in your chest as you see him sitting there cleaning himself on your bed.

“You scared me you asshole,” you laugh, hugging him close.

Ring ring

Your bedroom phone rings this time, nearly making you jump out of bed.

This time you’re less on edge thinking maybe it’s one of your friends calling from out of state.

“Heeeyyy who is this? Kennie?” You ask with a smile.

“Why are you ignoring me?” Your heart stops immediately, it’s the same caller. But your bedroom has a completely different number just like most of the phones in the house.

Going to hang up once again the caller yells at you.

“You hang up on me and I’ll use your little pink pajamas ,” they say mockingly” to choke the life out of you while I watch you die pig”

“Try it” and with that you hang up, grab porkchop, and run to the downstairs office.

As soon as you close and lock the door the office phone rings but you refuse no matter what to answer the phone.

While you wait you grab your fathers gun from his desk and hold it in front of you.

After a few minutes the ringing finally stops and you let out a sigh of relief.

BANG BANG BANG

“CMON OUUUTT Y/N” “GET OUT HERE YOU SLUT WHAT ARE YOU SCARED OF US OR SOMETHING”

Banging so loud it sounds like the doors being kicked in soon replaces the ringing of the phone along with the screams of two voices.

Not one. TWO.

You let off one shot directly at the door and hear a pained groan and slow shuffling away from the door.

You don’t know how long you stayed im the office but it’s long enough to fall asleep until the very next day.

You’re only awoken by the sound of the office phone ringing which sends a shockwave of panic through you.

“H-hello?” You say, voice shaking.

“Y/n why did the neighbors call and say they heard gunshots. What did we tell you about the damn guns you never listen. We let you stay there so that you-“

Click

“Nice talking to you too dad, oh me yeah I’m fine just had to use your gun to save my life…prick” you say to yourself before slowly opening the office door.

With a sigh you take a look around the house and it’s exactly as it was the night before except for the new bullet hole in the door.

After feeding Porkchop you see that it’s 1:45 and decide to go to school while you still can.

Ch 2

#slasher x reader #stu macher #stu macher x reader #slashers #slow burn

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sleepdeprivedsimp234 · 5 months

Text

And, dear York, you would fall, and turn the white snow red as strawberries~

Ships: None!

Warnings: getting shot, inaccurately described historical events (the Boston Massacre), and the way that my age sh*t works is a little wonky (lets just say that NY is maybe a teenager here?).

Genre: Hurt/Comfort I guess-

Title is inspired by: “White Winter Hymnal” by the Fleet Foxes.

—————————

March 5th, 1770

Massachusetts gently held New York’s hand as the walked along the Boston Harbor, and New happily walked next to him, lost in his own little world. Mass chuckled fondly but quietly at the child like wonder in NY’s eyes as the slightly taller colony looked out onto the ocean. After a few more minutes of walking, the two colonies decided to take a break, and each took a seat on the edge of the harbor, their legs hanging over the side. He yet again chuckled at the childish wonder in NY’s eyes along with the slight spark that he had thought was long gone.

"Like what ya see Yorkie?" Mass teased, smirking when NY jumped a tiny bit.

"H-huh? Oh- uh- yeah it’s pretty I guess." NY said before turning back to look at the vast ocean. Mass couldn’t help but frown slightly at the faint-but-still-visible bruise on NY’s cheek from England.

The two just sat there in silence for a little bit lost in their own thoughts, until Massachusetts heard a small giggle from his little brother. He turned to York with a small smirk.

"What’s so funny Yo-" Mass was cut off by a splash of water hitting him directly in the face. He spluttered a little as he tried to regain his composure. He opened his eyes and smiled evilly at New York, who chuckled nervously. “Oh you little sh*t!-"

Massachusetts splashed a bit of water at New York before tackling, pinning and tickling him. He smiled when his little brother’s laughter filled the air, and he eventually stopped, gently rubbing the feeling off York’s torso. He ruffled the taller’s hair and grinned "That’s whatcha get for messin’ wit’ me Yorkie!~”

"Yeah yeah whateva’…." NY said, curling up next to his big brother.

“Hey Matthew!! Cmere!"

Massachusetts turned around at hearing the use of his human name. "Ey Yorkie I’m bein’ called i think. Ya wanna come wit’ me or do ya wanna stay here?”

"I’ll stay here." NY said, though he was obviously too busy playing with a seagull that had come to say hello.

Mass snorted a bit. "Okay then. By the way, those things bite. Just sayin’." he said before walking off in the direction he heard his name be called from.

—————————

[half an hour later]

NY had been busy playing with a seagull and a crow that resided at the Boston Harbor, and had ever so fondly given them the names Kraai (the Dutch word for crow), and Zee (short the Dutch word: Zeemeeuw, which means seagull). Animals, especially birds and cats, had always brought him a weird amount of happiness. One that he rarely ever got nowadays. He chuckled a little when Kraai jumped on his shoulder and squawked. York did his best to mimic the sound, but it sounded more like an angry cat. Kraai gave him a gentle wack with her wing and squawked at him, sounding a lot like a mother lecturing a child.

"Okay okay I know, I know that was terrible…." NY said with a small chuckle. A sudden gunshot pierced the air, making the young colony flinch. He got up and started running to where he heard the gunshot, in case of Massachusetts being hurt. That would be bad….. Zee and Kraai followed him, flying high in the air.

He got to the city square and hid behind a building, peaking his head out. What he saw was utter chaos. There were people, mainly colonists, all running around in a frenzy as about……nine??? soldiers shot at them. NY frantically looked through the crowd, trying to find his big brother. He eventually caught sight of him and sighed exasperatedly when he saw Massachusetts with a chaotic grin on his face. He jumped a tiny bit when a body dropped behind him.

"Mass!!" He shouted, desperately trying to get the older’s attention.

Massachusetts turned his head at the sound of his name, and the grin quickly faded when he saw his little brother, who was standing in the middle of it all. Sh*t sh*t sh*t he never meant for York to be a part of this! Fun was over, Operation: Get NY out here had begun.

"York?? What’re you doin’ ere’?! Are ya crazy?!?!" He yelled, running over to New York, who looked kinda scared.

"I could be askin’ you the same damn question dumbass!!” York shouted, covering his ears a little. He had never liked loud noises.

"Get outta ere’!! Are you tryin’ to get shot?!?" Mass shouted, hugging the taller colony close.

"I came ere’ lookin’ for you!! I was worried that you had gotten shot dumbass!!" New York responded, burying his face in Mass’s hair.

Mass’s face softened slightly at that as he started to escort York and himself out of the city square. Suddenly, New York threw himself in front of Massachusetts, and in turn the soon-to-be Bay State’s face paled a ghostly white as he looked down in front of him. New York was curled up gasping slightly and coughing in pain as he clutched his stomach. Mass didn’t even have to be told anything to know that NY had been shot. Especially when he saw the snow beneath them be died as red as strawberries in the summer time. DAMMIT.

He quickly picked up NY and ran behind a building, muttering an apology when he heard a whimper and yelp from the younger. Mass waited till he was sure that there were no witnesses to teleport into a clearing in the woods. He gently laid his injured brother on the ground and wrapped his jacket around the wound to try and stop the bleeding, and then closed his eyes to try and summon one of the other colonies to help. Dammit. It wouldn’t work. He was too stressed to focus. God NY’s breathing had slowed down a lot….. Wait- why wasn’t NY moving anymore?? Mass checked his pulse, and sighed in mild relief when he felt a pulse. He took off NY’s coat and pressed it against the wound, wincing when NY gasped in pain and coughed, blood spluttering on his lips. Mass cried quietly and hugged his brother close, fully convinced that this would be his brother’s next painful death. That was, until, he heard the caw of a crow above him.

Massachusetts looked up to see Kraai flying above them, and was about to swat her away until he noticed that Kraai seemed to be releasing worried-sounding coos and nudging at NY’s arm with her wing. God he couldn’t believe what he was about to do…..

"Hey uh-" Damn. Is he really talking to a bird right now? "Can ya- umm…. I doubt that you can understand me….. but if you can, NY is hurt and he needs help, can you go get help?" Mass was really hoping that this worked, even if it was ridiculous that he was talking to a bird.

Kraai tilted her head a bit before doing her best to do what somewhat resembled a nod and flying away. It worked! It actually worked! Holy sh*t! Mass could cry tears of joy and he nearly did. He hugged his little brother close, whispering reassuring words into his ears.

"Everything’s gonna be alright…..helps on the way….."

—————————

My fellow NY simps: @stawpny @misery-has-no-company-now @alaskashigh @kyledoesstuff-09 <3

And you cuz yes: @jazzyfrog <333

We love Kraai (the crow) and Zee (the seagull) here (they are original characters maybe-)

#welcome to the table #welcome to the statehouse #ben brainard #wttt #wttsh #wttt new york #wttsh new york #wttt massachusetts #wttsh massachusetts

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dirtyvulture · 2 years

Text

Natasha Romanoff x Beefy!Lawyer!Reader

18+ only, read at your own risk

Requested by @dinolandsworld: ok here i am!! i'm exposing myself a lot here but this is actually a fantasy of mine and the law jargin story added a lot to it ... basically having reader fucking natasha senseless in an actual courtroom.

maybe reader is prepping for a trial and yk how they get the courtroom to practice before it and nat shows up and once again gets turned on because of the words reader is using and because how hot she looks in a suit .. and yeah. just nat getting bended over the witness stand with reader fucking her from behind

that would be kind of it

Word count: 1337

AN: Looks like y’all couldn’t get enough of Part 1, so here’s a little more to keep the sinners fed. 😘

Repost because Tumblr is a hoe.

“The defense would like to bring Ms. Johnson to the stand at this time,” you say, trying your best not to look down at your notes. Your partner, Jennifer, sits behind the podium, playing the role of Ms. Johnson.

“Ms. Johnson, can you confirm that you were walking on the sidewalk of 7th Avenue on the night of July 30, 2022?” you ask.

“I was,” Jennifer says.

“Could you see the two defendants sitting on the front porch of the house?”

“Yes.”

“And were you present when the gunshots were fired?” you ask.

“Yes, because I heard them and saw the muzzle flash,” Jennifer answers.

“Could you see who fired the gun?”

“No, but I know a gun was fired from that porch.” Jennifer was going off the police report with Ms. Johnson’s witness statement. This cross-examination was the only way to extract information that wasn’t recorded in the official report–and also point out its flaws.

“But you don’t know who shot it?” You hadn’t intended for it to sound like a question, but you couldn’t take it back and Jennifer jumped on your mistake.

“Objection,” Jennifer says, now taking on the role of the opposing counsel and the judge. “Asked and answered, Y/N.”

“Right.” You’re grateful she doesn’t steamroll you and cause you to lose your rhythm, but you gracefully move into the next question without much pause. “After the gun was fired…”

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

Natasha strides through the courthouse, searching for Department 103. This is not her element, and she feels like a foreigner wandering the halls. People in full suits–whom she assumes must be attorneys–walk by, and she secretly hopes you’re wearing one, too, even though you were just here for court preparation.

After consulting a faded directory on the wall, she finds the correct courtroom. She pushes open the door slightly, hearing your voice and your partner’s.

“Objection, Your Honor,” Natasha hears you say and she feels a jolt go right down her core. “There is a lack of foundation for that evidence because the opposing counsel did not properly admit it.”

Natasha had spent the last few weeks watching all the law shows she could get her hands on, but she still doesn’t understand a word you say.

“Wait, really?” Jennifer breaks character to ask you.

“You didn’t ask the right questions,” you say.

“I didn’t?”

“No, remember you have to have the witness testify about the evidence. Then you have to ask the court to admit it. It’s a step-by-step process.”

Natasha wants to swoon when she hears you educating your partner about court rules.

“Ok, that makes sense, thank you.” Jennifer collects her notes into a briefcase. “You’ll be okay for tomorrow?”

“I’ll be out in a few minutes. Just need to go over some last-minute arguments,” you reply.

“Need any help?”

“No thanks, I’m good.”

“Sure. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Natasha backs away from the door and waits until your partner exits before popping up.

“Oh, hey, Natasha,” Jennifer says. “Y/N will be right out.”

“Thanks.” Natasha practically runs into the courtroom. “Hi, baby!” she calls out.

“Nat! What are you doing here?” You’re in the middle of clipping your briefcase closed when you turn around and see her. Today, you’re wearing a white button-shirt whose buttons look like they’re going to pop off if you flex too hard, paired with black suspenders. Natasha wipes her chin as she walks up to you.

“I thought we could grab dinner together,” she says, grabbing onto one of the suspenders and dragging you down to her level. She takes extra caution to kiss you lightly on the lips when all she wants is for you to take her right here in the courtroom. “I heard a little bit of what you and Jennifer were talking about. I still couldn’t understand any of it, but it was…” She bites her lip while looking up at you.

You chuckle, no longer surprised at how much work talk turns on your girlfriend. The last few times you were in bed with her, she had made you recite your entire thesis.

“You want me to put you on the stand?” you ask, your voice lowering.

Her eyes widen.

“And what if, instead of cross-examining you, I fuck you?”

Natasha looks at your crotch, where she suddenly notices how much it’s bulged out.

“Just in case.” You wink at her.

Natasha squeals as you pick her up easily and carry her to the podium to the right of the judge’s chair (maybe you could use that another time). You kick the chair out of the way, setting her on the desk and brushing her hair aside so you can kiss her neck. Natasha throws her head back and moans, her hands clinging onto your broad shoulders and raking down your back.

“The defense would like to call Ms. Natasha Romanoff to the stand,” you whisper into her ear, feeling her shudder against you. “Do you know why you’re here today, Ms. Romanoff?”

“Because…Because…” Natasha is already a mess and you haven’t even touched her yet.

“Because you were fucked by the defendant?” Your hand forces its way up Natasha’s shirt and gropes her breast. She pants against your neck, her nails digging harder into your back. “Answer the question, Ms. Romanoff.”

“Yes, yes, I was,” she begs.

You pick her up off the desk and turn her around, bending her forward until her stomach is flat against the wood surface. Her skirt rides up and you see she isn’t wearing panties. You lick your lips in anticipation.

“The defendant’s counsel would like to introduce Exhibit A to the jury,” you say, keeping one hand on Natasha’s butt and the other pulling down your pants so your strap has room to pop out.

Natasha keens when she feels the toy brush against her center and pushes back instinctively. You thrust your hips forward and bury the strap inside of her without warning. Natasha squirms underneath but you keep her pinned down, your muscular thighs pressed to the backs of hers and you don’t move so she can adjust to the size.

“Ms. Romanoff, is this the same strap the defendant fucked you with?” you ask, barely able to control your own breathing now.

Natasha feels so full, her walls massaging the strap and she clenches uncontrollably around it. “Yes, it is,” she answers, her voice strained.

“And how exactly did the defendant fuck you?”

“Hard and rough,” Natasha says, hoping to get her point across.

“Like this?” Your fingers tighten around her hips and you start hammering your hips like an animal.

“Fuck, Y/N!” Natasha screams at a volume that makes you momentarily concerned someone outside will hear. She goes limp across the witness stand as you pound into her tightness, grunting and growling with each of your thrusts.

You never thought you would take your girlfriend like this, in an actual courtroom on an actual witness stand, and you won’t take the opportunity for granted. The strap is angled upwards to hit your own clit with every thrust, and the stimulation is enough to keep you in line with Natasha’s pending orgasm.

“Did the defendant let you cum?” you ask, keeping your rough pace, although your thrusts become more uneven and sloppy.

“Yes,” Natasha squeaks.

“Did you want to cum today?”

“Please let me,” she practically sobs.

“The court will allow it,” you respond, giving her one more deep thrust and feeling her walls tighten around your strap. Your body goes rigid as your own orgasm washes over you, and when your legs finally stop trembling you rest a little of your weight on Natasha’s back and stroke your fingers through her hair softly.

“You okay, baby?” you whisper, stroking the back of her head.

“Perfect,” she sighs.

“Good.” You gently pull her off the witness stand and push her down onto her knees, your slick strap bobbing in front of her flushed face. “How about we try introducing Exhibit B to the court now?”

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

AN: Hee hee. 😈

Please like, reblog, and comment! Follow for more content.

#natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #request

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brooooswriting · 2 years

Note

i love your writing 😍id love to see a natasha and reader where they’re on a mission and the reader protects nat maybe like from an explosion or gunshot and just doesn’t think twice about it and jumps in front of nat and grabs her and protects nat with her body she gets hurt but nothing crazy and nat is all worried saying why would you do that and reader just tells nat she would do it again and again if it meant protecting her and keeping her safe because she loves her and needs her

So I changed it a bit but the basic story should be in it ;) Tony is a bit of an ass in this one, I’m sorry

You would never

Y/n Stark, the younger sister of Tony stark and just another Playboy, well girl, but you know.

But deep down Y/n hated one night stands, the parties that her brother threw and the things people said about her online. After all she just wanted a happy relationship, but not with anyone. She wanted Natasha Alianova Romanoff more than anything and while the spy also wanted her she made it clear that they can’t be together as Y/n was just another playboy and didn’t think that it she was serious.

You guys were on a mission right now, it was you, Natasha, Steve, Tony, Kate and Clint. You, Tony, Kate and Clint decided to go to the second floor and see what was going on there while the other two were supposed to collect intel.

So Steve was looking around the first floor to observe while Nat got the information. “Steve how is it going?” You said into your earpiece but didn’t receive an answer.

You tried two more times before deciding to make your way down to them to see if everything was alright. You didn’t find Steve but immediately found Natasha tipping away on the screen. “Thank god, there you are. Steve isn’t answering his coms and I got scared” you said as you stepped into the room.

“Really? He was fine like 5 minutes ago, maybe he’s just overwhelmed with the technology” she joked as you made your way closer. “Yeah, I mean we can’t be all little Romanoff’s” you returned making her laugh. “You’re right, the world would be too perfect if we were” she grinned but this time you didn’t. “It would be…” you stopped mid sentence as you heard something behind you.

Behind the two of you was a guard with his gun raised aiming at Natasha and you did the first thing you could think of. The moment the shot was heard you jumped in front of her the bullet making its way straight though your abdomen.

Your eyes fluttered shut but you fought against it in order to keep protecting Nat. Your body covered hers almost completely while urging her to keep tipping. “Y/n what are you doing?” She asked shocked trying to turn. “Keep doing whatever you’re doing” you said before quickly taking one of her guns and shooting behind you.

The guard and you fell to the ground in sync making Natasha scream and the rest of the team run to her. Your eyes fluttered shut and that was the last thing you remembered.

After your eyes shut the spies eyes filled with anger and she quickly lunged at the guy whose shoulder you shot and repeatedly hitting him until Clint pulled her off.

Steve carried you to the quintjet while Tony started daggers at the Russian. Kate made sure to call Cho to be ready for you.

You woke up with a terrible headache but shot up nonetheless. “Where’s Nat!? Is she alright? Natasha!” You were panicked. You didn’t know where you were nor what happened to your wound but it didn’t matter. Only Natasha’s safety mattered.

“Y/N, calm down. Hey hey it’s alright. Romanoff is fine and you gotta chill before your stitches rip open.”Wanda soothed you while carefully pushing you back into the bed. “Where’s she?” You asked desperately, “she slept next to your bed for four days so we made her go get a shower at least. She’ll be back soon I guess”.

Not a second later the redhead came running into your room with wet hair in grey jogging pants and a top. She looked stunning.

“I heard you scream, are you okay? Do you need anything? I’ll go get Cho and a glass of water!” She stumbled over her own words but you stopped her with a hand on her wrist.

“Stay. I’m alright. I just wanted to know if you’re fine. You are right? He didn’t get you?” You asked while checking her for wounds.

“Are you CRAZY?!! YOU got SHOT because of me and ask me if I’m alright?! I mean first of all why the fuck would you do that? You could have died! And then you keep covering me instead of sitting down or something risking to get shot AGAIN. Do you understand how stupid that is? I mean why would you do that? Why? Name me one good reason” she was clearly frustrated and mad but you didn’t care. You carefully pulled her onto the bed and looked into her eyes.

“Because you are worth it! And I love you. I would do it again and again and again just for you to be safe alright? And you can tell me what ever you want it will never be not worth it.” You explained and placed light kisses to the back of her hands.

She fell into your armes and hugged you tight before also mumbling an “I love you too”. You kissed her head while she kissed your neck.

“But don’t EVER do that again alright?” She warned before pressing her lips to yours in a passionate kiss.

Two days later Tony decided to throw a party for you.

You and Nat got ready together but went separately as you didn’t want the news to bitch about you and her. She got what you meant and arrived shortly before you.

“Y/n, my lovely sister, there you are” Tony said and hugged you before continuing. “Why would you get shot just to impress some girl to fuck?” He said with his hands still around your waist. You pushed him away with a grunt “she isn’t just a girl bro, I love her and she certainly isn’t just a fuck and if you say something like that again I will hit you.” You said pointing your finger at him.

You didn’t notice Natasha make her way over to you from the other side of the room when she heard your grunt. So you were clearly surprised when she turned you around locked her arms around your neck and kissed you. “I love you and the world is so damn wrong about you” was all she whispered. You grinned and pecked her lips as your arms tightened around her waist.

“How about a dance darling?” She smiled widely and nodded walking to the dance floor with you. It started with a slow song so you guys were wrapped in each others arms again but this time her head laid on your chest while yours rested on top of hers.

You heard Natasha mumble something against your chest “I can’t believe that could have been the last time I’ve heard your heart beat” your heart clenched at her words. “I’ll never leave you but if it’s me or you, trust me I’d throw myself in front of you no matter what. No regrets” you reassured.

A lot of people had already asked you if you regretted throwing yourself in front of a bullet and you always answered the same “ I’d throw myself in no matter what if it means she’s safe.” And you still stand by it.

Natasha’s heart melted when you said that, nobody ever really wanted to protect her and there’s no way anybody would ever throw herself in front of her to safe her. She never believed when you told her you’d do anything to show her that you’re serious about it.

After some slow and quick dances Natasha saw a drunk Tony make her way toward you two and decided that you shouldn’t have to do this at the moment. So she took your hand and walked toward the elevators.

“Where are we going?” You asked as she pulled you up to your rooms. “I wanna have you all to myself and cuddle while watching terrible romcom movies.”

Two things were clear that night. 1. The world was so wrong about Y/n Stark and 2. Romanoff will kill her if she ever gets shot again.

Thank you so much for leaving requests and I hope you like this one. Have a great day everybody:)

#marvel #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #reader insert #brooooswriting #marvel x you #natasha romanoff x you

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nobody7102 · 2 years

Text

Family: Chapter 1

Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader

Warnings: Violence, guns, gunshots, blood

A/N: I told myself I wasn't gonna post another series till I posted the next chapter of Killjoy but I've been so busy that I haven't gotten around to it and I wanted to post something that wasn't just a blurb so here it is.

Callsign: Plum

Main Master-list

Series Master-list

Chapter 2

_________

Taking off her helmet as the canopy opened, Y/N smiled watching as Maverick crawled out of the jet next to her. “You actually did it” he smiled over to her, “I didn’t think you would”

Y/N pulling herself out of the jet and down the latter “Come on Old Man, you didn’t think I learned?” walking over to the base of his latter, Y/N waited for the captain to get his feet on the ground before she crossed her arms in front of her “So, you gonna keep your end of the deal”

Rolling his eyes, Pete took her helmet from her grasp before motioning to the hanger “Go shower then you’re good to go”

Smiling ear-to-ear Y/N happily walked to the hanger, throwing a peace sign to the rest of the Dagger team as she did “I’ll see you fuckers later then” she hummed as jaws dropped.

“Maverick was serious about getting the rest of the day off if we shot him down?” Hangman’s eyes widened.

Nodding, Y/N walked over to Rooster and planted a kiss on his cheek “I’ll save you a spot at the bar when you get done? I’ll get you the usual” Rooster nodded “Baby?” He waited for her to turn around “My usual, not your usual.” rolling her eyes, Y/N nodded as she got to the locker room. Catching the end of Jake’s conversation to Bradley.

“Out of all of us, Plum picked you, and you chose to drink Blue Moon with her?”

Y/N laughed as she showered, washing away the sweat and jet fuel stench that clung to her skin.

After an hour, Y/N had showered, changed into casual clothes, and made her way to the familiar bar. Salt water, stale beer, and peanuts filled the air as Y/N stepped into the Hard Deck. Taking a seat at the bar, Y/N hummed waiting till Penny got around to her. “Plum” Penny hummed “You’re here early”

Y/N nodded “Mav said whoever shot him down in training got to be done when they landed” she raised her arms “As you can see, I made sure he was good on his word”

Penny laughed, motioning to the pilot “Your usual?”

“Yes please” as the beer was placed in front of Y/N, Penny’s mouth turned downward slightly before she spoke.

“You know Y/N” The pilot straightened up hearing the use of her actually name “Someone came in earlier looking for you”

A smirk pulled at her lips “Who the hell would be looking for me?”

“How about family” a voice called out from behind, Penny’s eyes shot over Y/N’s shoulder. Y/N closed her eyes, tensing up at the voice “You still drink that?”

“You told me I could have any brew I wanted” She turned her body to face the voice “as long as it was a Corona” Y/N hummed “What are you doing here Dom.”

“I can’t stop by for a visit?” he shrugged watching as Y/N turned to the bar once more.

“Penny, could I have three more Coronas on my tab…. And can I use the back deck?” Y/N watched as Penny nodded before placing the beers in front of her. Grabbing the beer she had already ordered, Y/N grabbed one more before making her way to the back door.

Dom grabbed the two remaining bottles as he followed Y/N out the door. Letting her get settled on the picnic bench, Y/N sipped on her bottle staring out at the water for a few moments before she spoke “I’m only gonna ask you this one more time, Why are you here Dom?”

“Like I said, I can-” “No you can’t” Y/N was quick to snap “...Does Letty know you’re here?” she was only met with silence “So you’re here, Letty doesn’t know about it…” She looked to the man standing before her “maybe you did just come for a visit… but that’s not how you work, so you must truly be desperate if you found me all the way out here” A smug look came over her face.

Moving to sit across from her, Dom sipped his beer watching the waves “Things aren’t like they used to be” he set the bottle down “She’s not the same”

Y/N chuckled “Oh so you’re not still running jobs, getting arrested, almost getting killed? And Letty doesn't hate me anymore?”

Dom slowly nodded “Okay maybe things are the same… but you’re still the same too, the same old Y/N” Her brows furrowed at his words “Still an adrenaline junky, looking for your next high… but instead of looking for it on the ground, you found it in a tin can with wings”

“Please Dom, my jet can outrun any muscle or import” Y/N smiled.

He smiled back at her, motioning to the bar “And what about that ‘67 Pontiac you got out front?”

She raised her brow “You are not watching me race the Bonnie, fuck no.”

“Who said anything about a race?” he hummed returning to his beer “I didn’t say anything” “You don’t have to, I see it in your eyes” she shook her head finishing off her first bottle.

“It’s a nice car Y/N, it deserves to be raced” Dom joked “You know what happens when you keep a tiger pent up in a cage”

Y/N shook her head “It took me years to find a usable model and almost all of my basic training to get the bonneville restored, she is my pride and joy.” Dom smiled hearing her rant about the car “If you want me to race fine but you find me a car to do it in” he laughed

“We both know you’ve got plenty of cars you can race”

They laughed before there was a lull in the conversation, almost a hesitant pause if you will before Y/N started talking again “You’re here to ask for my help on a job aren’t you?” she watched as Dom nodded starting on his second bottle too.

“I wouldn’t have come if I wasn’t absolutely sure I needed you Y/N”

Shaking her head Y/N looked at the wood grain of the table “It took me years to set myself straight Dom, and when I enlisted I got lucky… My recruitment officer had a soft heart, ignored my records and let me enlist. Dom I can’t go bac-”

Dom placed his hand over Y/N’s “It would be legal..ish, completely under the radar and off your records… We don’t have anyone with your skills Y/N” Wiping away the condensation on her bottle, Y/N bit the inside of her cheek before she spoke “Would Letty even have me there?”

He shook his head “I want you there, and I know that Mia and Brian would love to see you”

“Dom I-” before she could finish there was a knock on the window, both of their gazes fell to Bradley and Jake who motioned for Y/N to come inside. She gave him a soft smile before mouthing ‘One minute’ turning her attention back to Dom. She opened her mouth again but was cut off.

“Listen, this is obviously a lot to ask… and I clearly came at the wrong time” he took a card out of his pocket and placed it on the table “Enjoy the rest of your night with porn ‘stache and Ken doll, call me tomorrow when you’ve thought about it some more” he stood “Thanks for the beer”

Watching as he walked off of the deck and around the building, Y/N picked up the card, looking at the number written on it before shoving it into the pocket of her pants. Standing she collected the bottles and made her way inside, placing the empties on the bar for Penny. Y/N closed her eyes thinking over the conversation before she felt an arm wrap around her waist and a prickly kiss planted on her cheek.

“You okay Plum?” Bradley hummed, nuzzling his face into her neck.

Nodding Y/N turned her head to the side, “Yeah I’m okay” she captured Bradleys lips with hers. After a few minutes she pulled away “Did you get your nasty Blue Moon?”

He scoffed “You’re one to talk Miss ‘I only drink Corona with lime’” he chuckled “Who were you talking to out on the deck?”

Trailing her eyes to the back door, Y/N leaned against Bradley “Just… an old friend” she smiled, feeling Bradley pull her from the bar and into the crowd.

_________________________

“Hey we’ll see you guys later” Bradley waved back to everyone as his arm rested around Y/N’s waist as they walked out of the Hard Deck.

“So what do you wanna do when we get home? Pizza?” Y/N hummed

Bradley cocked his brow “I can think of one thing I wanna do when I get home” He smiled crouching down to pick up Y/N by her legs before throwing her over his shoulder.

“ROOSTER!” she yelled as he ran over to her car. Setting her down next to the passenger side, one hand smacked around her waist as the other worked its way down into the back pocket of her pants, pulling out her car keys “Oh you are so gonna get it” she pointed to Bradley as he made his way over to the driver side.

“Oh I’m shaking Baby” he joked

The drive back to their housing was almost silent as the radio was the only thing to fill the air as Rooster’s hand held Y/N’s. His thumb rubbing circles over the back of her hand, upon approaching the house, Y/N furrowed her brow.

“Roost, did you leave the lights on?” she turned to look at him, shaking his head. Y/N’s hand went to her glove compartment, taking out a Ruger LCP. She checked the magazine before handing it over to Bradley and pulling out a second one from the glove box. Looking at Bradley he gave you a nod before you both quietly exited the car, Bradley made his way around the back of the house as you took the front door… which was unlocked.

Carefully sweeping the office and front living room, she cleared them before she approached the kitchen. Before approaching the dining room, she paused and loaded the gun then entered the room. Seated at the dining room table, Y/N was met with a blonde woman.

“Who are you?” Y/N raised the gun as the woman smirked, drawing her own gun and setting it on the table.

“So you’re the little secret” the woman hummed, her smirk hiding something… sinister. “Tell me, what did Toretto tell you” the woman took the gun in her hands examining it.

“I’m gonna ask you again, who the fuck are you and why are you here?” Y/N took a step closer to the woman.

The woman raised her brow before raising her gun to Y/N “I’ll give you something better” she cocked back her own gun “Why don’t you go find Bradley” she hummed with a sick grin before a gunshot rang out.

Widening her eyes, Y/N continued to hold her gun to the woman as she walked back to the kitchen before she dropped it and turned on her heel rushing out the side door of the house looking for Bradley.

“Brad!?” she yelled as she rounded the corner “Bradley?!” she screamed

“Plum!” he yelled back as she rounded another corner, there was Bradley, leaning against the side of the house, holding his shoulder. Rushing over to him, Y/N dropped her gun as her hands replaced Bradley’s. Pressing hard against his frame he groaned, her eyes raked over his form. “It’s okay Baby, it’s just my shoulder”

Y/N’s eyes snapped shut as she continued to press against his shoulder. “Fuck, I’m so sorry Bradley”

He furrowed his brows “What are you talking about? Y/N none of this was your fault”

“Yes it was” She sighed as sirens were heard in the distance “fuck” she muttered.

“Y/N what the hell do you mean?!”

Biting her lip, a frustrated groan left her mouth “my family caused this”

________ Taglist: @shawnsthighs @caswinchester2000 @hopefulinlove

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romanarose · 2 years

Text

Leather and Lace: Chapter 4

Santiago Garcia X OC

Previous part here : Next part here

Fic masterlist

While on the mission, Pope and the guys find a girl tied up in the basement of a drug lord. Through a few unforeseen circumstances, the girl and Pope get separated from Will, Frankie and Benny and have to find their way back in the woods. She doesn’t talk, is malnourished and traumatized, and Pope has the instinct to protect her at all costs.

(Pretend this is him leaning over a railing while talking to Fish okay)

WARNINGS!!!: for whole fic there’s gonna be violence, mentions of blood, mentions of sex trafficking, ptsd, sexual trauma (past), physical trauma, gunshots, eventual smut!! Don’t read just for the smut tho cuz it’s not smut focused.

Warnings: UUUHH maybe nothing really? Will being a dick? kissing? at worst? Kinda soft, lil angst then soft.

I wrote this,,,, SO TIRED. Not my best work tbh. I think I'm gonna keep updates to once a week until Sunshine Starlight Sweetheart Brightside is done bc between this, SSSB, Seattle, the han solo story ive been trying to finish for two years, and the one shots i wanna do AND taking 19 credits and working 4 days a week.... it's a lot. I want my work to remain as good as I know I'm capable of. Thank you for all for patience, and thank you for all your lovely encouragements! Fanfiction writing can be so thankless sometimes, it makes me so emo-tional to see your nice words. In the mean time, come read Sunshine! I've been told it's pretty bingeable if I do say so myself. I see a lot of people like it chapter by chapter and inhale it in a day or two. 27 chapters out of 33!

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

“Home sweet home” Santi opened his front door, trying to sound as enthusiastic as possible, despite being exhausted from the flight. He let her in, holding the door as she wandered in, carrying her backpack. Lace had refused to let Santiago Garcia carry it. He was already carrying his bags plus one of Benny’s, and she already felt uncomfortable with her dependance on him. Benny’s friend had picked them up, dropping Santi and Laci off at his place. Frankie and Will had stayed behind for a few extra days to finish what they were supposed to all do in the days after they raided the house. Unfortunately, between Santi’s disappearance from the house and Benny’s gunshot wound, they had gotten side tracked. Will had a fucking fit about Santi leaving, which had turned into some choice words and a Frankie once again having to separate them before it got too far. Frankie, who was less than thrilled about Santiago leaving with Laci, agreed Santiago should go. Ben wanted to stay as well, but his shoulder was still out of commission. Frankie also thought it was a good idea to separate Will and his injured brother to allow Will space to calm down without constantly seeing his brother damaged

Laci took in the space. She wore pants and a long sleeve, covering the array of bruises she was still recovering from. She turned to him with a smile. ‘It’s nice’ The place wasn’t huge, but it was clean, it was safe, and it was his. After he had retrieved the money that was thrown in the canyon, Santi had split it with his 3 other friends. Most of them felt… wrong, having the money, so they all kept the money aside for emergencies, donated a lot, and made a few smart purchases. All of them had bought houses, no mortgage. At the very least, they’d always have a home.

“It’s late, but we can go to the store tomorrow and get you set up with some more clothes, anything else you need.”

She turned to him, nervous and shaking her head. “It’s fine”

“No, Lace it’s okay, let me do this.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ll get a job and get out of your hair” She dodged his eyes again. They had made a lot of progress, she was talking more freely, but she never held his eyes for long.

“Lace…” Pope wondered how he could make her see, make her believe that he just wanted to help her. He took her hands, careful not to startle her. “This… this is your home now. You can stay here as long as you need, I mean it. Don’t worry about working until you’re ready. Let’s get you set up with services, counseling, medical… Don’t even think about work yet.”

She leaned into him, holding tight on his hands but looking away. “Expensive.” She muttered.

He sighed. “Listen, it’s a lot to explain but… I came into some money recently. Don’t worry about that. Just…” He took her face in his hand, turning her face to him, and she finally looked at him. “Lace, let me take care of you” He kept her eye contact, watched her eyes searching his face. She was looking for a hint of a lie, of malicious intent. She found nothing but tenderness.

Before Santiago even had a moment to react, her lips were on his. He kissed back the moment their lips met, purely on instinct. When his brain caught up and realized it was her, it was her lips, chapped and hesitant, he kissed back with more fervor, wrapping his arms around his waist and she melted into his arms. Then, he realized what was happening. Santi pulled away, taking a few steps back and away from her, disgusted with himself.

“I’m sorry” He said all too quickly, as soon as he saw her distressed face. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

He expected her to cry or panic, he didn’t expect this response. Her face set into a nervous determination. She pointed at him and shook her head. Then she pointed at herself. ‘You didn’t do it, I did’

“I know,” He clarified. Here he was with a traumatized and vulnerable girl in his home, she probably felt obligated to sleep with him, she thought that's what he wanted… He scrubbed his face, then looked back at her. Laci’s face was red, looking at the floor. She was embarrassed. “Can we just… let's pretend this never happened, okay? Finish showing you around?”

She nodded, not talking. Santi fought the urge to sigh again. Two steps forward, one step back. “C’mon, I’ll show you the yard.” He wanted to just block out the last two minutes from their collective memories. He started walking toward the sliding glass doors, but stopped when he heard her footsteps stop. He turned around and saw her staring at his bookshelf, staring at the 5 porcelain dolls on the top shelf.

She cocked her eyebrow up at him with a teasing smile. ‘Yours?’

He smiled, happy the tension was gone. “My sister’s, actually.”

Laci grinned, still lookin at the pretty, well cared for dolls, but was slightly nervous. She pointed to the house in general “does she live here?”

Santi’s kind smile waved a tad. “She died. It’ll be two years next month. Overdose.”

She turned to him, but he remained focused on the shelves, so she turned back. After a moment, she spoke. “My brother. I was 20. He raised me after our parents died.” Another pause as Laci took a shaky breath. “Suicide.”

Santi took her hand.

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

A week later, Santi was parking his car on Frankie’s street. “You sure you’re okay? We can still turn around, Fish will understand.”

Laci had thought she was hiding her anxiety well, but somehow, Pope always knew what she was thinking. This was helpful, seeing as she still hardly spoke. It came and went in moments, he was never exactly sure what caused her to start or stop talking. If she was anxious or upset she shut down, but sometimes there didn’t seem to be a cause.

She looked at him with a little smile. ‘It’s fine. You want to go, so we’ll go.’ The two of them had gone everywhere together this week, every appointment and every meeting with a social worker or doctor. He wouldn’t leave her at the house alone, and he knew she would insist on going despite her reservations. She had asked who was coming. Pope knew that was code for ‘is Will coming’. The two of them had yet to interact. With Frankie, at least, he made an attempt to speak to her, dropping by when he got back to the states and asking yes/no questions to Laci so she didn’t feel left out. Will hadn’t been over, nor had be called. But she was fairly comfortable around Ben. Benny had been over a few times, and Laci even let Santi leave the room to go to the bathroom or get snacks, leaving her alone with Ben while they watched tv. Always Sunny in Philadelphia, of all things. It made him smile when he’d return to the room, watching her and Benny laughing out loud together.

They hadn’t addressed the kiss and neither made a move, but the tension was palpable some days. Her first full day there, she had tried to make him dinner while Pope showered. When he heard a bunch of banging, he rushed out, only stopping to wrap a towel around his waist and ran to the kitchen. He found Laci cleaning up a bunch of pans that had fallen on the floor. Looking up, her eyes widened as she stared at his shirtless torso. When her eyes flicked up to him, they stayed like that for a moment, Santi trying to read her face. He was good at it, he usually knew what she was saying or thinking… right then, she was unreadable.

She took his hand as Pope let himself in through the back gate and she took in the scene. It was a small gathering, Frankie had promised that it would just be the guys. Frankie usually held a cook out when everyone comes back from a mission, a way for everyone to decompress. Usually, it was a fucking party. Alcohol, lots of friends, family, and any random stranger Benny had met off the street that day. Today was small. Ever the peacekeeper, Frankie was hoping Will would warm up to Laci. Fish recognized, even if Pope was in denial, that Laci was going to be part of things for a long time. On a phone call with Ben while he was still out of the country, Benny had told him he thought something was going on between the pair, that they were absolutely inseparable. Benny was the one that noticed Santi’s watch was missing on the flight, and relayed the story Pope told him to Frankie.

“Hey guys!” Benjamin Miller swaggered over, hugging Santi and putting his hand on Laci’s shoulder. “C’mon! I’m on grill duty” It was a warm day, and now that Laci got to pick out her clothes, he found she liked to wear a lot of flowers. Her dress today was pink and white floral and a flowy skirt.

“Oh god,” Pope muttered, following the blonde boy.

“Relax, Garcia. Fish is cooking, I’m just in charge of making sure the burgers don’t burn.” Benny, Laci and Santi stood on the deck for a few minutes before Will opened the screen door, and he felt Laci tense.

He was carrying pop, tossing one to Ben and one to Santi, one for himself.

Santi called him out. “C’mon man, don’t be a dick.” He felt Laci’s hand on his arm, and turned to see her face. ‘Let it go’

Will rolled his eyes and cracked open his pop. Benny handed his to Laci “Here, I’m grabbing a beer” He walked into the house, grabbing Will with him and shutting the glass door, no doubt about to chew out Will.

Santiago turned to her “Sorry Lace, he’s being a dick.”

“You don’t have to… defend me or anything. I don’t want you guys to start fighting…” After learning about Santi’s sister’s death, and how most of his family is gone, she started to realize what these men meant to him. She didn’t want to be the one to cause any more problems than she already had.

Will and Benny returned, Will looking irritated but calmer. “Here” He handed Laci a snack pack of cheetos. A small gesture, but a gesture nonetheless.

Laci kept looking at the floor, but touched her hand to her mouth, then moved it out. ‘Thank you’ in sign language. Ben had taught Laci several basic sign language phrases to prepare for the party. All the guys know passable sign language, and this way she could communicate a few things without having to talk or have Santi translate her facial expressions.

When the door opened, Will’s grumpy face lit up. “Here’s the woman of the hour!” And held out his arms to snatch the little girl from Frankies arms. The one year old practically dived into Will’s arms. It was strange for Laci to see Will not glowering. One by one, each of the guys held the tiny toddler, Laci was absolutely enthralled with the sight of Santi holding the adorable girl, blowing raspberries on her stomach.

“Laci?” Frankie spoke up. “Would you like to hold her?”

Laci nodded frantically, and held out nervous arms for Frankie’s daughter. The 18 month old was hesitant to leave her tio’s arms, but once she was in Laci’s around, she put her little hands on Laci’s face. It was an immidiet bond between the two.

“Rosie,” Frankie steps over to the two girls, tickling the toddlers neck. “Meet Laci. Laci, this is Fatima Rosa Maria Morales Ferndanez. Or Rosie, as we usually call her, when she’s not in trouble.”

Benny smiled at his friend and his niece. “Powerful name for a powerful little girl.”

Frankie noticed Laci’s eyes welling up and her lip quivering. “You okay, Laci?”

Santi kicked himself for not picking up on her discomfort, moving to take Rosie out of Laci’s arms, but Laci held on, looking at the little girl adoringly. She turned and whispered to Santiago, who then turned to his friend, smiling. “She said she’s beautiful, Frankie.” Frankie smiled back.

The evening had been delightful. Santi always enjoyed seeing the guys, especially after a particularly stressful mission. Even if Will was being a bit of a dick. It wasn’t bad, Will knew how to tow a line, that was for sure. Just enough where Santi didn’t feel it was worth making a scene, but enough where his irritation was growing. Laci was mostly oblivious, she had Rosie on her hip, even so much as straying away from her ever-attachment at Santi’s side to play with her in the grass. Santi leaned over the deck, beer in hand as he watched her.

“I think Rosie has a friend.” Frankie joined him, looking at his daughter lovingly.

“Yeah.” Santi’s smile was huge. Frankie knew he was down bad.

“How’s she been adjusting?”

“She’s doing alright, considering. Therapy starts next week and she’s been to a few medical appointments, got her on meds, a diet to get back the nutrients she lost. Dentists gotta do some work, shit like that. She’ll have… she’ll have her moments. It’s hard to watch.”

Frankie nods. “What do you mean?”

“Sometimes I’ll find her asleep on the couch watching tv. She had to get on medicine for the nightmares, they seem to help, but she likes the light. She says the TV helps her focus. She watches Friends reruns. She doesn’t even like Friends, It’s just something else to think about, nothing serious, stupid sitcom.” He paused, unsure if he should say it, but if he could be honest with anyone, it was Fish. “She kissed me”

Frankie laughed. “Oh yeah. She kissed you.”

Pope turned to Frankie, finally looking at him “I’m serious!... I mean… I kissed back.”

“There it is.” Fish smirked.

Pope was defensive. “She did! Fish I would never want her to think she has to do anything just because I’m helping her.”

“But you wouldn’t mind if you and her… we’re together?.”

Pope rolled his eyes, “Well, she’s-” pretty he was about to say, turning back to Laci. She was on her back, legs up in the air with Rosie on her feet, playing superman. Laci’s skirt rode up, showing off the smooth curve of her ass. “Oh fuck” Santi and Frankie quickly turned out, but gave each other a side-eyed smile.

An hour later, Frankie was putting Rosie to bed, and Laci was back to Santiago’s side. When Frankie came back, everyone was gathered on the porch. “Hey Santi, I think you forgot something.” He tossed the watch to his friend.

“Fish, what the shit? How did you…?” Santi hugged Fish tighty “Hermano, how did you know I lost it?”

“Benny can’t keep a secret for the life of him.”

Benny meely shrugged, smiling.

Will, however, was confused. “Wait, is that Fatima’s watch?” He looked back and forth between Fish and Pope. “Why does Catfish have it?”

“I um…” Pope hesitated, his grin fading. “When we were in the forest, I sold it to get some food and water…”

“What the fuck Pope?” Will looked irrationally irritated.

Frankie put a hand on Will’s arm, trying to calm him. “Calm down.”

Will shrugged him up. “You sold Fatima’s watch because of her? Jesus Pope, what the hell?”

Pope put himself in front of Laci instinctively. “Back the fuck off, Ironhead. Now.”

Will look at Santi condescendingly. “What is she doing to you man? She almost got you killed, now you’re just being her bitch”

Ben saw it coming before Santi even made a move, smacking Frankie, signaling him to move. Ben grabbed Pope, holding him back as he went to punch Will and luckily, Frankie caught Ben’s message and grabbed Will’s shirt, warning him not to do anything. Laci stepped backwards until her back hit the deck railing, and there she froze.

“What is your fucking problem Will?!” Santi shouted at the much taller man.

“Do you have ANY IDEA how close you came to dying, Pope? It’s a goddamn miracle you didn’t get your head blasted open! You and Ben could’ve died! Then what? Do we spit up the money again and give it to your non-existent family and pretend it’s okay? If Ben died, would you just give me a pat on the back and say ‘Oh, sorry!’ and move on?”

Santi was in too much of a blind fury to possess what Will was saying “None of that has ANYTHING to do with her!” Santi pointed to the scared girl in the corner of the deck, clutching onto the railing for dear life.

“I told you we needed to move, but you never fucking listen! You had to baby her, you had to play knight in shining armor and rescue the pretty girl, meanwhile Benny gets shot and you literally dodge a bullet!”

Benny mumbles something about not bringing him into this, but no one was listening. Benny knew he wasn’t getting anywhere. Santi and Will would hash this out, Frankie would stop them from killing each other. He looked over to see Laci scared as shit. Carefully, he walked over to her. Her eyes were shut tight, but she knew it was Ben, because she knew what Santi’s hand felt like.

“Enough!” Frankie shouted after a few more pointless back and forths. “You guys hear that?” Through the upstairs window, everyone could hear Rosie crying. “You guys woke up and probably scared the shit out of my baby, not to mention Laci.” Santi suddenly noticed she had left his side, and felt a tinge of guilt and jealousy to see her so scared, but also holding the handsome young man’s hand. “Santi, Will, go inside and fucking sort this out like adults.” He noticed Santi glance to Laci again. “She’ll be fine, man. Jesus, Ben will be here. I’m going to put my daughter to bed and I swear to god, if you wake her up again, we’re gonna have a problem.”

Will and Santi stormed off, and Frankie went upstairs to try and put his toddler back to bed. Benny and Laci stood in silence as Laci held his hand tightly. They couldn’t hear what Will and Santi were saying, but it sounded calmer. After a while, Will opened the door, looking embarrassed. “I need to talk to her” he told Ben.

“No way man-”

“Okay.” The Miller brothers turned to Laci, eyes finally open and looking directly at Will for the first time.

Hesitantly, Benny let go of her hand, telling Will not to be an asshole, closing the screen door instead of the glass door. “Can I close the glass door? I don’t want them eavesdropping.” Laci nodded, and Will closed it. Much like Santi, Will scrubbed his face. “How much did Santi tell you about our history together.”

She held up her fingers together. ‘Very little’

“He tell you bout Tom?”

She shook her head.

Will sighed. “Last year, a mission went wrong. I got shot.” Despite how much of an ass he had been, he swore he saw a bit of pity on her face. “But we had another friend, his name was Tom. He got killed after things went very, very wrong and… I think I’ve always held onto a lot of anger and guilt over it. A lot of feelings I don’t know how to let out in a normal way. Seeing my brother get shot, and those few days where I thought Santi had been killed or taken, I think… Well I think maybe it brought a lot of feelings out. I don’t know if Santi told you, but Benn is my brother. My actual brother, I mean. I know we all refer to each other as brothers…” he trailed off, realizing he was rambling. “I thought I was going to watch him die…” He shuffled his feet, trying to figure out what he was trying to say.

Surprisingly, she spoke up, although barely audible ”I didn’t ask for any of this…”

God, that hurt. Of fucking course she didn’t. This poor girl had gone through hell, and here he was making her feel worse. “I know. And I’m really sorry. I’m not good at this kind of thing…” Despite his best efforts, his voice was just a little choked up. It was a high emotion week. “I don’t really have a good excuse, but I am sorry. I know you’re going to be around a while, maybe forever-” he cut himself off. He didn’t exactly know what Santi and her relationship was., and wasn’t sure if they knew either.“I don’t want to make an enemy out of you, and I don’t want to be the person who makes you feel worse.”

Laci thought for a second, then smiled a soft, nervous smile. She tentatively walked towards him. “It’s okay.”

He shook his head. “It’s not-”

She held up a hand. He didn’t need Santi to translate that. “I get… I get really angry sometimes. Sometimes I get angry at Santi and he did nothing wrong. He doesn’t know. I push it down. But sometimes I worry I won’t be able to stop it. It’s okay.”

Will nodded. He felt like they had an understanding, at least.

She walked past him, going to find Santi. When Laci found him, he surprised her with a hug. “Are you okay, Lace?” He asked, rubbing her back.

“Yeah, I’m great. Take me home please?” She nestled her head into his chest, taking in his smell.

On the drive home, Laci asked about the watch.

“My sister gave it to me a few months before she died.” He took it off, handing it to her. “The inscription translates to ‘count all the stars and add one more’ it’s about how much the singer loves someone. It’s a song by Jesse and Joy and it features Luis Fonsi” Santi turned to her, smiling sadly “I couldn’t stand Luis Fonsi, but my sister loved him.” He turned back to the road. “Her name was Fatima. Frankie named his daughter after her. He and I grew up together. Anyway, she gave me this watch as a half joke since I hated the song. Now it’s one of my favorites. I think she knew she was dying.”

Laci put her hand on his shoulder. Usually, their touches were for Laci’s sake. This was for Santi’s. “That’s really sweet, Santi. And I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, Muñecita. For Will.”

“I think Will and I are going to get along fine.” She turned to him. “I like your friends a lot.”

Santi smiled. “Yeah, I do too.

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

THANK YOU FOR READING! Reblogs help a lot, comments mean the world! lmk if you'd like to be added to my tag list!

Since google doesn’t really translate it, Muñecita means little doll. Muñeca is doll, and adding -ita makes a name or object diminutive.

@littlenosoul @bensolosbluesaber @milkymoon2483 @gogh-with-the-flow @itspdameronthings

#leather and lace fic #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier #santiago garcia #santiago garcia x reader #santi garcia fanction #benny miller #will miller #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales #fluff #angst #hurt #comfort #santi garcia #santiago pope garcia #santiago garcia hurt comfort #oscar isaac fanfiction

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maddyb-rapps · 1 month

Text

Four

The farmers son

master list

Ivy

I woke up the next morning in Jax’s bed alone. Pulling off a blanket I go back to Beth’s room. Opening the door I see the blonde still curled up in her bed. I’m debating waking her up bc I don’t know what to do besides stand here.

“Beth…Beth waking up.” I say shaking her shoulder. “Bro- Beth wake up!” I shake her harder.

“What time is it-“ she whines pulling her cover over her face.

Hershel then practically appears out of no where. “12:53 and I know your chores are suppose to be done before 3:00.”

Beth sits up in panic giving her dad a sheepish smile. “Sorry, daddy. We had a late night.”

“I’m well aware what time y’all went to bed because y’all wouldn’t hush.” He says with a hardened look.

“Sorry, sir.” I say scared he won’t let me stay again.

“Hershel’s fine.” He gives us one last look before leaving.

I turn to Beth and give her a grin before pulling her out of bed. “Come on I’ll help ya with your chores.”

After doing a few small things around the house me and Beth head out towards the stables. “Hope you don’t mind getting a little dirty, you can use the shower after.”

“I don’t mind.” I shrug then begin helping her feed and water the horses.”

We take about an hour or two to finish up all of Beth’s chores. We didn’t exactly rush to get them done. We stopped and starting talking halfway through each chore. It felt good finally talking to someone my age like this again. It was a great distraction from everything. From my past and what the present had come to. I finally felt like a teenager girl, giggling and throwing around hay in the stable with a friend.

“No wonder y’all where taking so long.” Jax says from behind us as we where currently braiding a poor horse’s hair. “You have hair in your hair.” He says pulling a few pieces out of my hair.

“Oh..thanks.” I say awkwardly looking anywhere but him.

“Where were you.” Beth asked with annoyance clear in her tone.

Her gives her a sharp pointed look that shuts her up. “Helping Patrica with the chickens.” Um ok…..I’m definitely feeling some sibling tension. “Where’s Nelly.” He looks in the stables.

Beth’s eyes widen as she looks around. “Did you make sure the door was latched when you put her up the other day.”

“Yes, but even if I didn’t Nelly knows her why back home let’s just ask dad. Maybe he let someone from Ivys group take her out.”

“Be for real Jaxon. It’s nervous Nelly daddy ain’t letting no one take her out.” She looks at him like he’s stupid.

“Ok well we still need to tell him.” He rolls his eyes.

I just stand in the middle watching them bicker. “Ok so let’s go.” I grab both their arms looping them with mine then drag them to the farm house.

Turns out Hershel had already knew about Nelly because the man wakes up before the sun every morning. Now me and the other women on the farm where setting up for a dinner to thank Hershel for letting us on the farm and helping Carl. Although Hershel didn’t seem to fond of the idea.

I feel kind of guilty for not really seeing Carl but I’ve dealt with to much death in my 16 years of life. See a little boy so full of life clinging to his life was not really something I wanted to see.

Going into the kitchen to grab some plates Carol stops me. “You and Beth go on. You seem bored out of your mind and we have more than enough hands.” She says with a motherly smile.

Me and Beth spent sometime in her room before we heard a gunshot followed by yelling. “What the hell.” I look out the window to see running in the field. “Oh my god. I think someone was shot.”

A/N:

This was rushed and short but I rlly wanted to post sooooooo I hope you still enjoyed it 😋

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marchtothefuckingsea · 2 years

Text

Ace of Clubs: Chapter X

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: Canon violence (if any).

Sleep is good, death is better; but of course, the best thing would to have never been born at all.

I slumped back into the seat of my car with a frustrated sigh, combing my hair back. I had spent the last several days hunting down apartments to look at, but to no avail. There were none located in safer places of town, and so I couldn't find one that Renard would be remotely approving of.

What was I thinking? Why did I care if he approved of it or not? He didn't even have to know where I lived. I shook my head at my train of thought, turning the key to the ignition and heading for the precinct.

Nick looked up as I walked into the cafe, a slight limp still in my step. I sat in the booth beside Hank, making myself comfortable.

"How's the apartment hunting going?" Hank asked.

"Amazing." I answered sarcastically.

"How are you and Juliet doing?" I asked Nick. I hadn't met her yet– for concern of confusing her while she recovered her memory– but Nick had explained the whole situation to me.

"It's getting better." He answered shortly. I didn't pry.

"So," I started, changing the subject. "What's on your plate for today?"

"Not much.Writing up the forms for a couple cases."

"So you don't need me, then. Damn." I joked.

"Get out of here." Hank bantered back.

"I can help from the office!" I retorted lightheartedly.

"Yeah I-" Nick started to answer. Gunshots suddenly sounded from across the street, and my head shot up, my eyes darting to the two detectives I was sitting with.

"Stay here. Both of you." He added with a glance in my direction, before jogging out of the cafe.

"I'll call it in." I looked to Hank, hesitantly standing out of the seat.

"Sorry." I apologized, following in Nick's footsteps at a quick, limping pace.

By the time I had made it to the bookstore, only the dead body of an author was to be found. I glanced at him quickly, before jogging out to an outdoor staircase. I found Nick running to look over the railing as a sleek, brown-furred creature dove off and splashed into the river. He turned as I approached, frowning at me but saying nothing.

"What was that??"

"I don't know." The grimm's frown deepened.

"A bird?" I questioned, falling into step beside him as he walked slowly back to the bookstore, processing what happened.

"A fish? Frog?" He shook his head.

"It had fur, right? I caught that." He nodded, still silent.

My brain suddenly clicked. "An otter?" He stopped in his tracks.

"Maybe..Maybe." He muttered.

By the time we made it back to the crime scene, Hank was there, questioning a Khloe Sedgwick; A witness, apparently. She looked up at Nick as we approached the two of them. Hank introduced us.

"Did you know the victim?" He questioned her.

"He's my boyfriend." She said nervously, even though she had a charming, almost alluring aura to her.

"Anton, my ex, he's the one who killed him." She paused, something about her suddenly changing as she stepped closer to Nick.

"That's all we need for now, thank you."

"You saved me, thank you." She took his hand in hers, raising it to her lips and touched a kiss to his knuckles. As she turned away, Nick made a face.

"Interesting." I followed the two detectives out of the building.

"To say the least." Hank added. "So we're thinking jealous ex?"

"He was wesen."

"That doesn't change anything."

"Was she wesen?" Hank intercepted.

"Not that I could see. She didn't woge." Nick looked to me, and I shook my head in agreement.

"Nothing."

"Shit." I suddenly looked to my phone, checking the time. "I have another place to look at today, sorry."

"Have fun." Nick said. I rolled my eyes.

"Thanks."

"There's two bedrooms and a bath, and this lovely little living area." The landlady gave me the details of the apartment. I nodded along politely, shoving my hands in the pockets of my trench coat. Something felt way off, but I couldn't figure out what. I shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, following her into the next room–the kitchen–and she gestured around to everything in it.

"The previous tenant left in such a hurry, so most of everything you need to get started should be in here." She explained. I nodded again. I just wanted to get out of here without being too rude. I followed her back into the living room, a picture by the TV catching my eye. I picked it up carefully.

The old woman appeared behind me, quickly snatching the photo out of my hand with a strained smile. I narrowed my eyes at her suspiciously as I noticed her begin to woge. "Is that the previous tenant?"

"It is. As I said, he did leave in a hurry."

"And why was that?" I began to interrogate her, edging towards the door. The knot in my stomach grew.

"I don't know." She shrugged apologetically. "He just up and left. I didn't even realize until I came to collect the rent that was due, and he didn't answer."

"What are you?" I asked her.

"What?" She asked innocently.

"I said, what are you?" She woged, cocking her head to the side. "An alpe." I hissed at her.

"I'm not afraid of a grimm." She growled, tackling me. I would never get used to how much stronger old people were in their wesen form, as if their age didn't even matter once they woged.

"Fuck off, parasite." I rolled on top of her, straddling her with my knife pressed to her throat. She returned to her human form, once again an old lady. I narrowed my eyes at her show of weakness, knowing how quickly she could turn again.

"I'll be keeping an eye on you." I hissed, climbing unsteadily to my feet and limping out of the battered apartment. I slumped into the seat of my car with a sigh. I wasn't in the mood to kill anyone today, I just wanted to find somewhere to live.

Walking into the precinct and glancing around, I didn't see Nick or Hank. It wasn't unusual; it was getting late, and people were heading home, but usually the two of them were still there. I headed into the Captain's office, where he was just finished up a phone call.

"Sorry." I smiled apologetically.

"You're fine. What's going on?"

"Where's Nick? And Hank?"

"They're looking into that case from this morning." He suddenly frowned, his eyes scanning my face.

"What's that?" He asked, gesturing to his own forehead.

"What?" I touched my hand to my forehead, and it came back with quite a bit of blood on it. I looked at it in surprise, quickly glancing at my reflection in the window. Blood trickled down the side of my face and matted to a small portion of my hairline.

"What happened? Don't tell me you've been getting involved with cases again."

"Not purposely, no. " I frowned, turning back to him. "I was just looking at apartments." He raised an eyebrow at me, skeptical.

"What can I say, trouble finds me wherever I go." I shrugged, trying to lighten the mood.

"I can't argue with that." He sighed. "Find any places?"

"Not really. Sorry, I just..I want to find somewhere safer this time. I really didn't mean to intrude this long, it's already been three weeks now." I apologized quickly. "I'm really overstaying my welcome, aren't I?" I asked, more to myself than him.

"No, take your time. If you can't find somewhere that you're sure is safe, I don't want you to be in danger just because you think you're intruding. You're not. I don't mind having you around." He admitted.

"I know, you keep telling me that. It's just been kind of tough. I'm not used to relying on someone. I mean- I keep saying that too, I guess." I laughed nervously.

"You have people now." He told me, resting his hands on my shoulders. "You've got plenty of people to rely on. I'll keep reminding you of that as long as it takes."

I leaned into him unconsciously before he pulled me into a hug. It took me a moment to return it, but I did, wrapping my arms around him tightly. When he pulled away, his eyes were soft. He gave me a nod, and I offered him a small smile in return.

"I'm going to look at what they have filed down really quick." I said.

"I don't think there's much, but go ahead."

"There's another case I want to look at, too. An old one." He nodded, glancing back to his paperwork.

I went to Nick's desk, rifling through the papers he had on top. Renard was right, there wasn't much down about the case, but there was a drawing of a wesen that looked like an otter, as I had suggested to him before. A sketch of a woman caught my eye, torn from the notepad and tucked between the case files. I picked it up curiously, recognizing the witness from this morning.

A strange weight settled in my chest. I quickly dialed Nick's number, bouncing my leg impatiently as I waited for him to answer. Nothing. I called Hank, finally receiving an answer.

"Ace?"

"Is Nick with you?" I asked urgently.

"No, why?"

"When was the last time you saw him?"

"We went to the victim's apartment with Wu, found a bunch of weird drawings. He's supposed to be having dinner with Juliet. What's going on?" That let put my mind at ease, just the slightest bit, even though the brick in my chest was still heavy.

"He's not picking up- look, I just got this weird feeling. You know the witness from the crime scene this morning? The one that you questioned?"

"Yeah, what about her?"

"That's it, I don't know. Something just feels off about it. You know what? I'm sure it's nothing. Sorry." I hung up quickly, trying to brush it off. I didn't want to stress Hank out when he was supposed to be healing his leg.

His words did little to put me at ease, but I tried

to dismiss the feeling. My hands itched to check in with Monroe, but I didn't want to make a big deal out of what was probably just paranoia on my part. I did my best to focus on the paperwork in front of me as I shuffled through more of the documents.

I was curious as to what the detectives had put down for the other wesen cases, especially the ones where Nick had used things only a grimm–or someone who knew about wesen, at the very least–could find. The way he juggled the whole grimm thing, along with his detective job, and still managed to combine the two was impressive.

I blinked hard, suddenly finding my eyes much heavier than they were…some time ago. I glanced up at the clock, then at the book I had pulled out of my bag at some point.. I sighed tiredly at the time.

"Just one more." I mumbled, turning the page. I blinked several times again, my eyes fighting to focus. I read the page about the musai with a tired curiosity. Some of it oddly reminded me of something, or someone, but I just couldn't quite place my tired finger on it. My finger twitched as I tried to turn the page.

"Ace." I groaned in complaint at the hand on my shoulder, curling my arms around my face. The hand shook me gently and I suddenly awoke with a start, my head snapping up to the source of the voice.

"What?" I sat up, quickly blinking the sleep from my eyes and hastily getting to my feet. I wobbled slightly as I gathered the book into my bag.

"Nothing, it's late, that's all." He said softly, eyeing me in concern.

"I didn't mean to- I didn't realize." I cut myself off.

"It's fine. I'm heading out. I can wait for you if you want." He told me.

"I'll be right behind you." I called after him.

As I walked back to my car, I squinted, noticing a small paper tucked under the windshield wipers, the whiteness of the paper almost glowing eerily beneath the streetlight.

"A parking ticket, at the precinct of all places…" I muttered under my breath, snagging the paper and beginning to crumple it into a ball, when I noticed it was a sticky note. I flattened it out again, revealing a drawing of a scythe in black marker.

"Not again."

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