#HAND IT OVER DC RIGHT FUCKING NOW OR YOU DIE AND YOU DIE PAINFULLY

[batarangsoundsdumb]

batman webcomic

#it was fantastic i really wish that dynamic for ALL of the batfam comics #also wishing for a batgirls story featuring steph babs and cass #y'all let's make this happen #gimme my goddamn STEPH CONTENT #HAND IT OVER DC RIGHT FUCKING NOW OR YOU DIE AND YOU DIE PAINFULLY #ngl i'd risk it all for stephanie brown #i love ALL of the batfam but if anything happened to STEPH??? i would genuinely die #but lmao damian in this was fantastic #prime damian characterisation #tho like i'm so 200% hellbent on damian being a weeb #it's fine weebs exist and they have (some) rights. like human rights and animal rights and stuff #damian greeting duke: Greetings MORTAL join me in the hall for a battle of the sword- whoever bests the other gets to pick the naruto ep #damian's alarm clock is set to a nightcore remix of the season 2 intro to attack on titan #cooki-dough #LOVE YOUR USERNAME #bataranswers #damian wayne #robin #batman #batfamily adventures #batfam #batfamily #batman webtoon #dc #dcu #dc comics

[darylsgirl]

He’s just like the sun. Daryl Dixon x Reader 18+ Smut

*Second ever Fanfic! Exciting! I hope you guys enjoy this! Please let me know if there is anything you’d change about it or anything you like! I would love some tips on how to improve!  I will warn it does get pretty dark at points, but the story just kind of got away from me again haha! Younger reader and Older Daryl for the anonymous request! Hope this has lived up to your expectations! Hope y’all having a lovely day <3*

Warnings!: Domestic violence, Heavy cursing, Violence and Smut 

Summary: Daryl had saved you from a herd of walkers, When you reached Alexandria he became distant and you started dating Spencer. He stayed away from you fully until Carol brought it to his attention that Spencer could be hurting you. Long slow burn. Smutty ending with Confessions of love :) 

Part Two              Part three 

“Good morning baby” He said rolling on top of you kissing you swiftly. 

“Good Mornin’ Spence' You replied squirming uncomfortably.

He enveloped you in his arms around you pulling you closer to him. 

“Sorry Spence, but carol’s expecting me. I really have to go!” 

His eyes flashed dark, He finally released you. “So just Carol? Or is there anyone else you will be seeing today?” 

You pushed your hand to the back of your neck rubbing it uncomfortably. “Urm yeah i think it’s just carol, She did say something about Rosita popping by to give us a hand” 

“Well you know what to do if anyone else turns up right? Or should I remind you?” He said with a smirk now. 

Your eyes met his panicked now “No i promise only Carol and Rosita. I know what to do i promise baby”

Ugh you hated calling him that but you knew it worked. You looked back at him and could see your words had placated him for now. Running to the bathroom you quickly got ready for the day, Checking over your appearance in the mirror you were satisfied that everything would look normal to anyone looking at her. You tucked your shirt into your jeans wincing as you did to make sure this didn’t rise up and left the bathroom. Sighing a breath of relief when you saw that Spencer had gotten up and left. Running a hand through your hair you ran downstairs, laced your boots up hastily, Leapt off the porch and headed towards Carol’s house.

You always loved your days with Carol, She was the most incredible woman. Tough, unrelenting and takes no nonsense but yet the mother of the group and loves everyone unconditionally, You’re pretty sure she would die for any one of you. She made you feel safe and at ease which is two feelings that were hard to come by these days. 

Smiling as you saw Carol in the front garden digging. You ran over and saw that there was a tray sitting on the porch with two cups of tea and some pancakes waiting. She nodded towards the porch “Go on help yourself Y/N. I'll be over in a minute” Another reason you just loved Carol. She. was. The. best. Cook. Even something as simple as pancakes you knew were going to be delicious.  “So I heard through the grapevine it’s your birthday soon?” Carol asked. You smiled at her “Yeah,I’ll be 22 on April 16th. Not that i’m even sure when that is now” 

“It seems silly now but sometimes i wonder what it would of been like to have my first drink, Never got a chance with the end of well….everything”

Carol looked over at you and checked the calendar. “Deana told me the date when we got here and I've been marking it ever since. Looks to be a week on Tuesday! Got anything nice planned?” “Nah, Just another day to me now!” You said shrugging. 

“Is Spencer planning anything?” 

“Um not sure, I don’t think i’ve told him if i'm honest”

“Well tell me then. If you could have anything in the world what would it be” 

You smiled the answer coming so easy to you now “A sunflower, I would really love to see a sunflower again” 

Carol nodded at you. “Now that would be something” 

Smiling happily again as you sat down you pulled a plate of pancakes on your lap and ravenously ate groaning as you did. “Carol, these are sooo good. What’s the secret?” 

“Y’all know if i tell you, i’d have to kill you” She said with a light hearted laugh and a wink. 

You had quickly finished your plate using the tea to wash it down. You thanked Carol, Grabbed the tray and walked in to clean the dishes. Carol followed in behind you talking about the day’s tasks. You didn’t really pay much attention as you were happy to do whatever as long as you weren’t stuck at home or with him. 

That’s when you heard him “Mornin’ Carol any o’ those fer me?” You body froze with fear, You needed to get out of here NOW. You scrubbed the plates and mugs as quick as you could and set them on the side of the sink to try. Spinning around you grabbed a dish cloth and wiped your hands. “I’m so sorry Carol, I just remembered I promised Spencer something, I have to go. I’ll see you soon?”

You started making your way briskly towards the door when a hand grabbed your wrist. “Y/N There a problem here?” You were too scared to look him in the eye, Those were your weakness so bright and beautiful. “No Daryl, Just cant be here” You muttered staring at your feet silently begging him to push and save you, But in true shy Daryl fashion he released your arm still staring at you. 

Carol cleared her throat “I thought you had made a promise not that you couldn’t be here?” She walked over to you, also staring at you intensely. “Same thing, Not allowed. Promised Spencer” Carol’s eyes burned looking at you she grabbed your face pulling your eyes up to meet yours. “Not allowed?” She asked softer than you expected. You nodded your head slightly “Please Carol i have to go” You begged her scared. She gripped your face tighter, Her eyes wandering quickly across your face. You ripped your face from her hands and Carol gasped. Panic building in you again you turned and ran through the front door with Carol and Daryl hot on your heels. 

As you hit the pavement you ran straight into him, You froze again,Fear in your eyes, your eyes downcast..

Spencer looked at you then looked at the porch seeing them both there he wrapped his hand around your lower back digging his nails painfully into your side. You jumped slightly. Spencer put his lips to your ear and whispered “Smile and wave and say goodbye to your friends” Putting an emphasis on the word friends. Tears stung your eyes. 

You looked up at carol placing an unconvincing smile on your face, “Bye guys, Thank you for breakfast Carol” The second the words had left your mouth Spencer was dragging you by the hip back to the house your eyes still not leaving Carol’s in a wordless plea. 

Back on the porch Carol turned to Daryl “Fuck, We gotta do something about that” “Bout what?” he asked puzzled “God Daryl you can be so blind sometimes!” “Didn’t you see her neck when she was leaving, Those bruises were finger marks. I’d bet my life on it” He looked over at Carol shocked “He like Ed?” She nodded mouth forming a thin line “The one thing that bastard was good for is he taught me to see the signs of that evil in others, That fear was mine not too long ago” She continued “We can’t just get involved that won’t help we need to watch him and catch him at it so he can’t make her lie” 

Daryl felt like something inside him had broken, He couldn’t believe that prick was doing this to her, To Y/N, A Girl like that deserved to be treated like an angel. He wished he could have told her how he felt before all this and saved her the pain. 

He had loved her from the first moment he had laid eyes on her. He had been the one to find her when they were on the road to DC. She was alone trying to fight off a herd of walkers with a determined look in her eye. Daryl had known he wasn’t supposed to get involved; he was supposed to be just observing and reporting back to the group. But the look in her eye  had made him charge forward “Hey!! Over here! Follow me!” She hadn’t even given it a second thought she just ran towards him and swung her leg over the back of his motorbike and they had ridden off. It had happened so quickly neither of them had the chance to wonder if the other could be dangerous. They both had connected at a base level without suspicion. 

Daryl had forced his bike to its limits, hightailing it back to the group with her arms around him. When he got back to them Rick had rushed forward to greet them looking warily at the pair, Daryl stopped the bike and started trying to explain to his friend when she fell sideways from the bike. Having to explain to the group that he didn’t even know her name was difficult but he just had to save her. By way of an explanation he just said “Any woman tha faces down a hoard alone earnt her chance” 

Daryl hadn’t left her side until she woke up. Seeing his reaction to this woman the group didn’t question it and just accepted her as one of their own. 

Daryl smiled thinking back to all the moments you two had been together on the road to here, To alexandria which had quickly become home. Before here he had barely left your side, He had thought you were incredible. A complete badass. From the first day you had defended and helped the group as if they were already family. You were a perfect fit. You were everything he wasn’t Light and beautiful. He knew a woman like you would never want the dark twisted man he had become but he couldn’t stop himself from being around you. You were magnetic. 

He never had the guts to tell you all of this, He knew you would reject him and everything your presence had healed in him would be shattered again. When they had gotten to Alexandria he had started seeing less of you as you had taken up your post at the infirmary and he had been going on more and more runs to keep the community fed and taken care of. He had started to wish for injuries just so he would have an excuse to feel your eye’s meet his again. He craved your touch with everything in him. But of course he could never tell you that, It would be so wrong of him. He was no good for you, he was atleast 20 years older for a start, An old redneck like him could never deserve a young beauty like you. 

About a week after you had all gotten here someone else had noticed you. You seemed to rebuff his advances at first which gave Daryl hope. A few weeks later Daryl was sent on a long run and when he came back there you were on Spencer's porch wrapped in his arms, Laughing at his words. That memory was the most painful for him, He had just gotten up the guts after a very close call to tell you how much he loved you and needed you to be his and there you were, Someone else’s now.

He couldn’t help but imagine what would happen if you had in fact been his, He spent all of his nights wondering what it would be like to have you in his arms lay next to him, Wondering what your lips would feel like on his, How your skin would feel under his fingers, Your breath on his skin. All of these nights ended in a hurried and urgent tug as he let his mind imagine your hands were his. Moaning your name night after night. Always opening his eyes to the empty space beside him and the gripping pain in his chest. 

“Daryl, Come in Daryl” Carol was waving her hand in front of your face. “Uhh Sorry, What did you say?”

“I said,'' Can you make an excuse to go to the infirmary tonight?” He balled his fists. He could definitely do that. He waited a few hours and then stormed towards the garage with Carol hot on his heels. He drew a deep breath and then punched his hand through the glass cabinet. Drawing his hand back and watching the blood seep down his wrist. Looking up at Carol expectantly “That’ll do nicely Daryl” With a glint in her eye. She turned and grabbed a rag off the side and wrapped it around his wrist. You go to the infirmary ill get Y/N. Daryl couldn’t feel the pain of what he had done yet, He could just feel the adrenaline rushing through him. 

Carol ran across and down the street stopping to take a deep breath before knocking she heard a whimper from inside. Fixing a panicked look on her face she knocked urgently. A few moments later Spencer tore the door open, “What?” He demanded. Unfazed Carol replied “Hey spence! I’m sorry to intrude so late but we need Y/N Its urgent” She smiled sweetly at him. “Whatever you need her for you either tell me or you can wait till tomorrow” Showing him the blood on her hands. “Well um there was an accident and we can’t find denise.” She said in an innocent voice. Hearing this you appeared at the door and looked up at spencer. “I need to go, I promise i'll be quick…. Please?” You smoothed your hair over your neck again and started out of the door towards Carol when Spencer caught your wrist pulling you back to him. “You better be, I aint done with you yet” He growled into your ear, Then pushed his lips to yours put a fake smile on his face “Okay honey, Be Careful”

You took this moment to pull your arm from his following Carol pressing her for more information. You arrived at the infirmary and saw Daryl on the steps blood dripping down his hand onto the steps. You unlocked the door and ushered him and Carol inside. 

Sitting Daryl down and not meeting his eyes you delicately removed the rag from his wrist and grimaced. Knowing better than to ask questions you set to work with a pair of tweezers and started removing the glass shards from his hand and wrist before cleaning the wound, Stitching and bandaging it as quick as you could. You braved a glimpse upwards and saw his eyes searching your body and then your eyes. 

Seeing those beautiful blue eyes hit yours you were fighting the tears. You wanted to spill and tell him everything. He had always had that effect on you all he had to do was look at you and you wanted to pour yourself into him. You had loved him from the very beginning, From the moment your eyes met you had craved him, Craved those beautiful strong arms around you keeping you safe from the world. 

You had always wished he would show even a spark of interest towards you, Well he was always around but he acted so indifferent. 

Engrossed in his eyes just staring at each other it was like there was no one else in the world, He was the sun pulling you in. His hand came up and moved the hair from your face, His fingers lingering before moving your hair completely away from your neck, his eye’s darting downwards inspecting you. His eyes grew dark then “Please Y/N what has he done to you?” his eyes were fixed on your neck as he reached forward and brushed his fingers across your throat tracing the bruises. 

Your breath hitched in your throat enjoying his touch. Carol cleared her throat from the corner “Guys we got company” Daryl dropped his hand and darted forwards blocking the doorway as it flung open. 

Spencer, He was fucking everywhere. 

“Can i help you?” Daryl growled. “What are you doing man, Where’s my girl?” Spencer asked. “She’s Busy and she’s gon be busy for a long time. Why don’t you take off kid” Daryl said still not moving from spencer’s way “I’ll take off when i’ve got my girl, Get the fuck out of the way” You could hear the change in his tone turn from polite to the voice that sent fear through your bones. 

You stepped forward. “I’m right here. It’s okay i won't be long” Daryl looked back at you pained “Yeah ya will. We aint letting ya go back with him” Roaring “Fucking look at yaself Y/N look at those bruises!” He span back at spencer “Ya needa take a fuckin hike, Touch her again ill kill you” He growled. Spencer looked amused “Yeah, Ok redneck scurry on to your moonshine and skinning possums'' He half laughed. “You think that little bitch wants you? She’s mine. Now get your ass here Y/N before i get fucking angry.” 

Daryl was heaving now Carol rushed forwards and grabbed his arms as he went to lunge forward. You forced your body forward in between them both tears freely running down your face now. “It’s okay, Daryl I’m okay. I’m not worth it” You winced when you felt Spencer's hands dig into your already bruised hips again. Daryl saw this “Ya gotta be kiddin me Y/N Ya worth 10 o’ him'' His eyes searched yours again desperate. “Please Daryl don’t make this any worse” “You heard her white trash” Spencer then pulled you from the room back down the infirmary steps, Daryl watched as he pulled her down the street and threw her back through the front door” 

Anger boiling through his veins he took off in the other direction, grabbed his bike and took off out of the gate and into the night. 

A week had passed since that night, It had taken a week to recover from the beating he gave you. You knew the rules No talking to either of them now. You were to go to work and come home, No more out of hours calls. You watched when Daryl finally rode back into town. Covered in walker blood his face still contorted in anger when he rushed back into the house. You saw the light come on in the basement and watched as he smashed up what few belongings he had before settling onto his bed. This had become your favourite pass time you loved that you could see straight into his room and the garage when he was in there. Spencer had already noted they could see into this house and had kept the curtains drawn on all rooms at all times. 

When you finally did go back to work Spencer walked you to and from the infirmary for the first week until he started to relax again. You liked it better when he relaxed, He could be sweet and loving towards you and you did everything you could to prolong it to avoid his rages again. 

On the tuesday you now knew was your birthday, You went to work with a half smile on your face. Denise pointed over to a desk “That was dropped off for you earlier” You walked over and found a slightly dirty Pin. Flipping it over you saw it was a beautiful painted sunflower. Beaming you turned back to denise “Who was it?” “Ahh sworn to secrecy! Sorry Y/N” You playfully growled at her “ooh terrified! I’m more scared of them, than I am of you Y/N Sorry still not telling!” You laughed and decided to let it go and just enjoy your beautiful thoughtful gift. 

Since Spencer had relaxed he had let you walk to work and back alone on the second day of this you heard him. “Y/N wait up!” Shit not now! What if he’s watching. You darted your eyes around and picked up the pace towards home. Running to catch up with you, Daryl ran in front of you and made you stop. 

“Please not now Daryl, If he sees...I’m not allowed….I’m not allowed to be near you” You stuttered. You gazed up at him pleading. His eyes went hard. “No! NO! I aint allowing it! Ya not going back to him Y/N I aint allowing him to hurt ya again!” You started shaking at his raised voice. Daryl noticed this and looked to be struggling with himself before finally lunging towards you and taking your head in his hands making your eyes stay on his. There it was again he was the sun and you couldn’t pull away even if you wanted to. 

“I love ya Y/N, I fuckin love ya! I can’t watch him not treat you like how you deserve! I’ll take care of you please, please let me i'll protect you with everythin i have!” His eyes looked wild and desperate. You couldn’t stop yourself, you pushed your lips forward meeting his hurriedly matching his desperation. The world could have ended again right then. You wouldn’t have cared one bit as he wrapped his arms around you and you melted into him feeling safe at last. 

Your hands made their way to his hair no longer caring who was watching and pulled him closer to you. He pulled away reluctantly. “Come on we’re getting ya stuff now. I’m not having ya there for another second '' Your brain still foggy you nodded giggling and let him pull you towards your house. Panic setting in again. Spencer should still be on guard duty the house should be empty so why were you so afraid. 

You looked back at Daryl and melted again. “Wait here, I won't be long, there's not much I need” He nodded at you taking a defensive stance and staring into the street. 

You ran up the stairs and threw the door open shutting it softly behind you and ran up the stairs grabbed your bag from under the bed and stuffing clothes in at random, Next you turned to the bathroom and grabbed your tooth brush and other bits. Smiling at yourself in the mirror not recognising the happy woman in front of you. 

It was then you saw him leaning against the doorway behind you. “That was quite a show Y/N, Well there’s only one thing for it! You ain’t goin nowhere with him with fuckin nobody but me bitch” He smirked at you and dove forward grabbing fistfuls of hair in his hands he threw your head forward smashing it into the mirror. You screamed begging him to let go as he continued to pull your head back and hit it back into the wall. You could feel the blood running down your face. Clouding your eyesight. Suddenly the hands were gone you gripped the sink fighting to stay up right. Grabbing a cloth and rubbing the blood out of your eyes you saw Spencer being dragged from the room. You followed as quick as your stumbling legs would carry you. 

You made it out onto the street to see spencer in the middle of the road and Daryl over him punching everywhere he could “I fuckin told ya, I’d Fuckin told ya i’d kill ya” He was screaming into his face. You looked around and saw a crowd had formed. Deana, Spencer’s mother was screaming for Daryl to stop. Which brought Rick and the others running. Carol ran straight for you taking your head in her hands and pulling you close. Whispering “It’s okay now Y/N. It’s okay i’ve got you” 

Rick ran straight at Daryl pulling him away from Spencer. Spencer pulled himself up and spat the blood from his mouth glaring at you now He pulled himself to his feet stumbling, eyes locked on you glaring he screamed “You little bitch” and ran at you. Rick couldn’t restrain Daryl any more as Daryl ran forward grabbing Spencer and throwing him to the ground again just before he reached you. Rick and a few others ran forward again and stood in front of you guarding you from Spencer. Daryl saw the fear in your eyes and rounded back on him. 

Crouching over Spencer on the floor Daryl yelled “Ya don’t listen do ya, Rick was trying to save ya miserable piece of shit life” He punched him again. “Me, I want to see ya as an undead asshole and I wanna be the one to do it, So keep pushing it Spencer” He pulled his crossbow from off his back and pointed it at the man on the ground, his chest heaving now. A strangled cry left your throat then.

Pushing yourself out of Carol’s arms you made your way to Daryl, You put your hand over his on the bow and pushed it down. Internally begging him to look at you. He finally did “Please Daryl it doesn’t matter, I don’t matter. I won’t have you being a murderer for me” 

Daryl’s eyes softened before turning back to spencer “Twice in a day someone else has saved ya fuckin life. Don’ even think about coming near her again. I even smell you near her or catch you looking at MY WOMAN again. ill rip ya fucking eyes out” He roared

Deanna was at her sons side now “He gets it please, Please leave so i can take my son home”

Daryl turned to you “Come on baby, We need to go home too” He dropped his crossbow back over his shoulder and wrapped his arm around your shoulders pulling you to him and pressing his lips to your forehead. You instantly relaxed grinning into him and you let him guide you again over to his house and down to his basement. You looked at him sadly when he pulled his arms from around your shoulders and turned to lock the door behind you pulling the deadbolt across. 

He turned smiling at you “Come on let’s get a good look at ya” Putting his hand in yours he brought you to the bed and sat you down inspecting the gash on your head. “We needa get you to Denise to get ya patched up” You grimaced “No she will be busy with him, I can do it. You got a needle and wire?” He looked at you shocked “Um yeah somewhere here” He busied himself getting those for you. He came back to you with them and some rubbing alcohol and bandages “Ya sure ya don’t want Denise? I’d do it but i'd probably make it worse” You smiled at him again sighing “It’s okay Daryl, It’s not my first rodeo” You made your way to the mirror and calmly cleaning and stitching yourself up. 

Daryl was half fascinated and half horrified as he watched you work. You looked so calm and didn’t even flinch when you were stitching yourself. It disturbed him to know you had probably gotten used to giving yourself medical attention. He waited patiently for you to be done. When you finally made your way back to him he pulled you back into his arms breathing deeply “I ain’t ever gonna let anyone hurt ya again Y/N not ever.” 

You reluctantly pulled yourself away now looking up at him with tired eyes. “I um didn’t get a chance to get my bag. Could I borrow something? I think I need to lie down, If that’s okay? Or I could go ask Carol if she minds me going upstairs?” 

“Ya kiddin aren’t ya? I aint letting you out of my sight” Getting nervous suddenly “Unless ya don’t want to be here. I aint gonna force you to stay or anything else'' You smiled at him again “Daryl i want to be here, With you. It’s all i’ve ever wanted” He grinned relieved, turned to his dresser and pulled out one of his shirts. “This alright?” You pulled the shirt up to your face smelling it briefly, It was clean but still smelled distinctly like motor oil and cigarettes. Just like him. You smiled sweetly at him “It’s perfect, Thank you” 

You looked pointedly at him, He laughed awkwardly, lay on the bed and looked at the ceiling above giving you your privacy. You slowly started removing your clothes wincing at points where your skin was still tender. Gratefully pulling his shirt over you and Scooping your hair out of the neck. 

“I don’t suppose the infamous Daryl Dixon owns a comb or brush does he?” You said amused. He jumped up again grabbing a brush from another drawer and bringing it over to you. His eyes assessed you “I don’t think ya going to manage to brush that out. Needs washin” 

“Oh and you're the authority on washing now?” You winked at him. You brought your hand to your hair and realised he probably had a point, Looking at him meekly this time. “Sorry I'm being such pain. Would you mind?” “Course not Darlin” He led you to the bathroom just off his room. He grabbed a towel and some shampoo from the cupboard and handed them to you, He turned the shower on “Give it a sec, Generator needs ta kick in” 

You shooed him out of the bathroom, Unwillingly pulling his shirt back off you and stepped under the shower. You couldn’t help but cry out the pain in your head was back, You ran your hand through your hair and felt a sharp pain in your palm. Reaching back you pulled out a piece of mirror that had embedded itself in your scalp, dropped it and let your head back into the water again, Whimpering again as you did. 

Daryl came crashing back into the bathroom “Y/N You okay?” “I'm okay” You stuttered. Not convinced he lingered in the doorway a moment more before leaving. 

The pain had started to recede and you enjoyed the water cascading over you. Once you had managed to wash the blood from your face and hair you turned the water off and stood naked in front of the mirror assessing the general damage to your body. This isn’t something you usually liked to do but it was time for the denial to be lifted and face facts. 

Daryl heard the water shut off and when you hadn’t reappeared after a few minutes he went to check on you again and thats where he found you on the floor sobbing holding your chest. He rushed down to you and scooped you into his arms still naked and shaking from the cold. 

“It’s okay Y/N I got ya now, I got ya always” He carried you to the bed pulling the towel with you and wrapping it around you. He lay you down on the bed stepping back. He finally saw the marks he had been searching for on you for weeks and he wished he hadn’t. They were everywhere old and new mixed together indistinguishable from each other. 

He dropped to his knees at the side of the bed burying his head into the mattress at the side of you. “Y/N please tell me what to do, Ya want him dead. I’ll do it, Ya wanna leave, I’ll take ya. Ya want to be alone, Ya can have my home. Please tell me what you want. Anything. I’ll get it Ya.” 

You looked at him sleepily “I just want to sleep” He looked at you standing and pulled the covers over you. “Okay, Ya need me shout and i'll be upstairs” You looked at him and panicked “No please don’t leave me” He ran his hand through his hand and was suddenly nervous again. 

“Ok, Y/N move over” He put his arm around your shoulder and pulled you toward him, You nuzzled into his shoulder. “Thank you” You murmured groggily and fell into a deep sleep instantly feeling safe.

Daryl lay by her side all night. Watching over her as she slept. The adrenaline was still pumping through his veins from the day's events, He looked over at you worried as you started mumbling and thrashing in your sleep. He tried to calm you by pulling you closer to him and whispering “It’s ok Y/N Your safe now.” Her mumbilings became more frantic “noo, Pleasee stop” Daryl’s heart felt like it was breaking as he held you. 

Suddenly you jolted upright sitting up with the ghost of a scream on your lips. You jumped up and dove across the room panicking, Collapsing into the corner hyperventilating. He was on you in seconds pulling you close again. Telling you it was going to be okay. It took you a minute to realise you really were safe and you relaxed into his arms allowing him to carry you back to the bed. 

You stayed by Daryl’s side for the next few days, They had been amazing, Everything was starting to feel like it was before Spencer; Spencer had been staying with Deanna while he recovered from the beating Daryl gave him which gave you a chance to clear everything of yours out of there. You were offered the house but with the memories you had there you couldn’t stay and besides you were much happier in that little basement room with Daryl than you had been in that huge house with him. 

Rick had agreed with Deanna that Spencer was to stay in her home and be monitored for as long as it took to see he had learnt his lesson and would stay away from you. The alternative being that Rick would let Daryl do what he wanted to him or he would be banished from the town. Depending on the severity of his possible future actions. 

Daryl hadn’t said a word to you about that day since, You can understand him not mentioning Spencer or those events but he hadn’t brought up the kiss or made any form of move since. You had come to think that he hadn’t meant it and that was just him trying to get through to you.

You really wanted to hate him for it, For making you believe someone as amazing as him could possibly care about you but Maybe Spencer was right, Maybe he was the only one who could ever love you. The thought was painful but just as you had decided to face facts about what he had done to you, You also needed to face facts about yourself and your limitations. 

It was only when you were both alone in bed that he ever slightly lowered his walls, When he would open his arms to you in bed and you would both snuggle while you slept. You would always wake alone with Daryl either working in the garage or out running jobs for Rick. 

One morning you woke up alone as always and found Daryl in the kitchen waiting for you, Trying to keep the grin from your face “Good morning!” You said brightly. He looked at you exhausted. “Mornin Y/N, I have to go on a run may be a day or two, You gonna be okay?” 

“Oh, Yeah sure. Do you need me to find somewhere else to stay while you're gone?” The happiness at seeing him already dissipating. “Course not, Me and Carol want ya here. Ya welcome for as long as ya want.” He then muttered “I don’t ever want ya to leave” under his breath. 

“Thank you Daryl, You don’t know how much this means to me, so…? when are you leaving?” 

“Uhm, Now actually. Just wanted to wait for ya to get up to let ya know, Anythin ya want me to keep an eye out for?” “No Daryl it’s ok. I couldn’t live with myself if anyone got hurt looking for something I wanted. The only thing I need is for you to come back to me, Unhurt…. Promise?” He smiled briefly at her taking her hand in his. “I promise Y/N. I promised to protect ya, It’ll take more than a few walkers to stop me keepin tha promise” 

Cuddling up in bed that night you knew it would be difficult to get any sleep, It always was when he left even before when you were with Spencer. You could never quite get a decent night's sleep until Daryl was home safe. You snuggled up to this pillow on his side of the bed breathing in his scent imagining his arms were wrapped around you safe. 

Half way through the next day he returned. Daryl and the group came flooding through the doors of the infirmary carrying an unfamiliar woman between them, She was passed out with blood covering her clothes. Wishing you had a moment to greet him, You and Denise flew into action looking over the woman and cleaning any wounds you could find. Once you were done and determined that she hadn’t been bitten and had no life threatening wounds, You stepped back “Is it ok if i leave you to finish?” You asked denise. She looked to you and then to Daryl pacing at the other end “Yeah” She nodded. “Can you fill those guys in?” You nodded back at her and walked over to them. 

“Hey, She’s ok. No severe injuries Just a bit dehydrated and probably hungry. Shouldn’t be too long before she wakes up.” A few relieved mutters were shared around the group before they departed for home to see their loved ones. You ran into Daryl’s arms and then held him in front of you checking over him for any cuts or marks that may need to be seen to. “m’ok , Really Y/N I’m ok jus’ tired. Can we go home? I needa talk to you” He looked at you desperately.

You nod your head taking his hand and following him towards your house. 

As you were walking you could feel his fingers nervously gripping your hand. He stopped suddenly and stepped in front of you. Reaching his hand to your jumper brushing his fingers over your sunflower, You looked at him with sudden realisation. “It was you?” 

“I heard ya with Carol that day, I couldn’t let your birthday go by and not get ya anything” He blushed looking away from you. 

You reached up and caressed his face gently pulling his face to face you again. “Thank you Daryl. That was incredibly sweet.” You pushed yourself up towards him pressing your lips to his softly, He moaned and tangling his fingers into your hair pulling you closer.” Just like last time it was over far too quickly, He started pacing in front of you. 

“No.no.no” he muttered “I can’t do this, It will take me weeks to forget again” He started pacing faster, his hands ripping at his hair. 

“Daryl stop!” You grabbed his hands pulling them out of his hair. “Please look at me! Why can’t you do this?! You told me you loved me for fuck sake and then act like it never happened! Tell me why!!” You were almost screaming, battling with your tears. How could he turn a moment so perfect into such a mess! 

“I’m 24 years older than ya, Did ya know that Y/N? I’m a filthy good for nuthin OLD redneck, I aint go no right to be with someone like ya! No matter what i want!!” He stopped pacing and looked straight at you again.

“I don’t care about your age! Why would that matter? What about what I want Daryl? You told me that night if i wanted anything you would get it for me, Well i’ve decided. I WANT YOU! It’s always been you!” Your tears are flowing freely now. The nosey neighbours of Alexandria started to gather at the noise, Trying to tune them out and you turned back to Daryl. “WELL? Don’t go all broody Dixon on me now!” 

He looked torn between pain and anger at the scene you two were now creating. Still not speaking to you. 

“You know what, Fuck you Dixon” You put your hands up to the sunflower pin he had got for you, You pulled it off and threw it at his head. He caught it easily, finally breaking his silence. “Ya got any idea what i went through to get this for ya!” He charged back at you, stopping inches from you.

“Ya should care, I’m no good Y/N, I don’t deserve ya” He gazed into your eyes those brilliant blue eyes misting over. “That ain't your decision or your place to tell me what i deserve. It’s mine” You glared at each other for a moment before he couldn’t take it any longer he gripped your face again slamming his lips to yours now, His tongue urgently pressing against your lips begging for entrance. You opened your lips moaning as his tongue touched yours and took charge of it, Kissing you furiously. You moaned into his mouth feeling your eyes rolling back in your head. 

You had never had anyone kiss you like this before, Everything else melted away all of your anger, pain and fear. All that was left was him, Glorious, Gorgeous all consuming Daryl fucking Dixon. 

You heard Carol chuckle behind you “Hey guys, You might wanna think about getting a room. You’ve got quite an audience here” Daryl smiled into your lips as he pulled away. He turned to Carol “Ya know what i think we will” Quick as a flash he had bent down and grabbed you behind your knees throwing you over his shoulder and running with you back to your home and down into your favourite place. When he had locked the door he turned to the bed with you still over his shoulder and put you down gently on the bed. 

“Did ya mean it Y/N? Ya really want me?” He looked down at you searching your eyes for an answer. “I have never wanted anything more in my life, I want you. I want all of you and i want it right now Daryl” You replied feeling the hunger from him burning you. 

Still standing over you, His eyes growing dark. “Lie down” He growled.. 

Grinning you kicked off your shoes and pushed yourself up the bed laying your head on the pillow. He followed you shadowing your body with his pressing himself to you before leaning close to your face lips barely brushing yours. 

“Tell me what else ya want Y/N…..Exactly what you want” 

You looked at him nervously for a second seeing the lust in his eyes matching yours you decided to just go for it. 

“I want your hands….Everywhere” As you spoke you felt his hands grab your hips moving slowly to your stomach then up and under your top. Frustratingly slowly, Your breath hitched as he finally pushed his hands to your breasts gripping them roughly. 

He pulled his hands away and back down to the bottom of your shirt grabbing it and pulling it upwards you raised your arms and let him remove it fully. He reached back down to you, His hands quickly unclasping your bra and throwing it harshly at the wall. His hands were back to your chest, Rolling your nipples with his thumbs. 

You moaned arching your back pushing your chest into his hands. He hit his hips into yours grinding on your core. “Oh shit Darylll” You moaned feeling how hard he was for you. 

He moved his mouth to your chest feverishly kissing your breasts and nibbled on your nipple making you squirm. Daryl then kissed a line down your stomach to your hips stopping to bite each one gently. 

Every touch was heaven, Every time he dragged his tongue over your soft skin it was like a thousand shocks spreading across your skin. He was undoing the zip on your jeans now, You lifted your hips to help him pull them off you. He settled between your legs pushing them wider open and running his finger over the material of your gratefully black lace underwear. 

Daryl looked up at you. Lifting and turning you slightly to look at the back “Holy Shit ya need to wear these all the time!” Still without removing your panties he pressed his lips to your sensitive nub while his fingers scooped the lace out of his way. His fingers then moved to your opening feeling how dripping wet you had gotten for him. 

“Shit Y/N that cuz of me?” He moaned as he pressed his lips back to your clit starting slowly circling his tongue around it and sucking gently. “Oh godd” You had never even get close to going down on you before, It was everything and more. You had to fight yourself from coming undone too soon, You wanted to savour every delicious second of this.

He plunged two fingers into you eliciting an even louder moan from you “Oh goddd Daryl! Please don’t stop, Don’t ever fucking stop.” You moaned between breaths. His mouth and fingers started moving quicker as he could feel your walls tightening on him and your breaths growing shorter, Panting for him. You couldn’t take any more and erupted feeling the wildfire of sensations running across your skin, Screaming his name. He slowed his fingers allowing you to ride your orgasm out onto him. When you slowed he put his lips further down on you licking every drop that gushed out of you. You entwined your fingers into his hair gently pulling him up towards you. 

“You taste so sweet baby, I could do that all day” Your eyes grew hard as you felt your core growing hot again and the wetness returned at his words.

He leant down and gave you another kiss, You put your hands to his chest and pushed him onto his back on the bed. 

“Your turn baby, I've been dreaming of getting my lips around you” You purred. “But first i need to see you, The man i’ve been dreaming of all this time” Moving your hands to his buttons he nodded at you briefly watching you crawl over him almost naked. 

You quickly pulled his shirt off of him, Roaming your hands all over his tight muscled chest and down over his thick arms. Biting your bottom lip trying to memorise every single inch. 

“If ya don’t stop biting that lip woman i ain't gonna give you a chance for those dreams to happen” He winked at you eyes blazing. You quickly dropped your hands to his jeans, Ripping his jeans and boxers down together and throwing them without a thought. You knelt between his legs licking your lips as you saw the size of him. He must’ve  been at least 9 inches long. Your eyes went wide with need as you wrapped your hands around it you brought your mouth to his tip slowly licking the dew from the eye. Moving your hands you licked him from base to tip and swirled your tongue around the tip. 

“Fuck Y/N Get that cock in your mouth now” He demanded. You didn’t need telling twice! You lowered your lips over him, Sheathing your teeth and pushing most of him in your mouth moaning as you felt his huge length hit the back of your throat.

“Y/N no gag reflex? Oh god how did i get so lucky” He groaned putting his hands into your hair and pushing your head back down. You choked as your mouth hit his base, your eyes watering, You hummed to vibrate your throat on his length before pulling up again. It was your turn to watch his eyes roll into the back of his head “Fuck Y/N fuckkkk Your mouth’s incredbile” You could feel your pressure building as you watched him fall apart under your lips. You bobbed your head faster and faster over him. 

“Oh shit, Stop Y/N I’m gonna cum ” He moaned looking down at you seeing you had no intention of stopping. He started thrusting into your mouth meeting your lips in perfect time. It wasn’t long before he exploded down your throat holding your head down to his hilt while he emptied his load straight into your stomach. When he released your head you pulled off slowly then licked his full length clean swallowing every drop. 

He watched you in wonder “Come here Y/N” You crawled back up him straddling his hips staring down at him sweetly. “Ya soooo fucking good at that” You brought your lips to his hungrily biting his bottom lip and started to grind your core onto him. You both moaned into each other's mouths enjoying the friction. You could already feel him below you growing harder again by the second. 

“I need to feel you baby” You moaned into his lips. Daryl pushed himself upright and pulled you with him as he sat up against the bed head. Daryl put his hands under your hips lifting you up and positioning you over his cock, Swiftly moving your panties to the side he started to lower you on to him. 

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders holding your weight as you tried to fit more of him into you. 

“Yesssss, So tight Y/N”. He groaned trying to push further. His eyes locked yours and saw you were struggling; he held you in place for a moment. “Ya ok?” 

“I’m good, You're just so big.The biggest i ever…. It hurts a little” Softening his gaze He kissed you softly. “Let me help ya with that. He brought his mouth to your nipple swirling and nipping here and there while his hand snaked its way to your clit again following the same circle as his mouth, You could feel yourself getting wetter and able to take more of him in. You cautiously tested it out moving your hips slowly up and down until he had filled you fully. You thought he had felt good before it was nothing on this. Pure unadulterated ecstasy. You started moving faster, becoming more confident with the lack of pain. 

Soon you were bouncing wildly onto his length screaming his name as he quickly brought you to another earth shattering orgasm. He brought your mouth to his kissing you swiftly “Shh baby ya know how thin these walls are. Carol & everyone on the street will be listening to ya!” 

“Mmphh, I don’t fucking care let them hear how good my man is fucking me” You rode your high out enjoying every second when you slowed again Daryl lifted you again standing up with you still skewered on him, Carrying you over to the wall beside the door he slammed you into it. Bucking his hips into yours furiously. 

“Y/N I’ve been waiting all ma daym life for a girl like you” He pushed his lips back to yours again. You melted into his lips his words dampening you for the third time, You hadn’t even known it was possible for someone to turn you on so much, To make you want them with every fibre of your being. 

Daryl started panting faster now sweat dripping off of his glistening muscles, You could feel his cock twitching inside you as he jackhammered into you harder and harder each time. 

“Ahhhh” You screamed “That’s it baby….Right there....Your cock is filling me so fucking good. Cum in me Daryl i need it” 

“Oh fuck Y/N Ya so fucking tight, Ya fuckin incredible, I’m gonna cum for you Y/N” 

You both hit your highs at the same time, You screaming his name into the air, eyes rolling backwards and him sinking his teeth into your shoulder exploding deep into you. You collapsed into his chest seeing stars as you felt him pulsing inside you, Your tight pussy milking him of every drop. 

Panting Daryl carried you back to the bed laying you down gently and collapsing with you, He leant forward and pressed sweet loving kisses on your lips. 

You curled into his chest exhausted, Looking up at him with pure love in your eyes. 

“By the way, What you said that day….” He looked at you puzzled brain still cloudy coming down from his climax. He murmured into your hair. “What baby?”

“Well...I love you too. I always have” Daryl smiled into your hair. He chuckled “Well what a relief, How could i have ever known otherwise”

You jabbed him in the ribs gently “Hey, Not fair!” He pulled your face up to his and stared lovingly into your eyes. 

“Ya know i love ya Y/N” His eyes grew serious. “I’d do anything for ya, I’d die for ya even” 

Your lips met his in a sweet kiss. You couldn’t believe he was finally yours, Allll yours. 

You snuggled into his chest feeling him tighten his arms around you and fell into a relaxed deep sleep. 

Next Chapter ---->

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon smut #the walking dead daryl #daryl #daryl dixon #twd #twdeadfanfiction #twd daryl #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead smut #smut fanfiction #fanfic #norman reedus #daryl dixon love #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #spencer #spencertwd #reedus #smutt #twd smut

[maxwell-grant]

Cass wouldn’t even begrudingly tolerate [the Black Bat], because she’s even less lenient than Bruce on killing and far more willing to throw down.' - THANK YOU for remembering that.

Cass is my favorite Batfam member, the only one really that I have an active interest in reading about. I'd be incredibly ignorant to not bring bring up such a crucial aspect of her characterization. And even if I didn't personally care for her, well, last thing I'd want is to be another source of frustration for Cass fans. Lord knows there's enough of those to go around.

mousebrass also asked: On that note, how do you imagine a meeting between Cass and the Shadow going?

Fair warning: This one took me 6 hours to write, and it became a hell of a lot longer than I imagined. I liked Cass a lot, but I never quite realized I had this many feelings regarding her until I was tasked with writing this, and a lot of things clicked for me regarding my plans for The Shadow thanks to this ask. @mousebrass, thank you. I mean it. I think I may have found something here I've spent years looking for. Hope you enjoy the post.

I'm thankful that this scenario is only really taking place in a hypothetical fanon where both characters can get a fair shot, because I wouldn't trust DC with this premise. I don't trust DC with either of them as is.

There's a lot of ways that this crossover could go on about taking place naturally, initially because Cass is already connected to some of Batman's pulpier elements, due to her connections to Lady Shiva and the League of Assassins, and one could connect Cass to Myra Reldon (who really should just be race swapped if ever brought back so she can stand out as the cool character she is, without the yellowface gimmick holding her back). There's two things I think are crucial to making the most of this idea, and the first of which has to do with the subject of killing. I usually don't like to come up with hypothetical team-ups for The Shadow that focus too much on the fact that he kills, because it's far from the most significant aspect of his character to focus on, much of it is written from a wrong understanding of the character, and it never amounts to anything other than perfunctory. But here, not only is it completely unavoidable to discuss, here there is actually a very, very substantial grounding as to why this has to be such a big part of the story.

The first and foremost thing that's gotta be established to everyone reading that doesn't know already is this: Cassandra Cain, more so than Batman, more so than any other DCU hero, has a tolerance towards murder lower than zero, and this is completely non-negotiable. She will throw herself on the path of an assault rifle to stop men trying to kill her from accidentally killing each other. The defining moment of her incredibly grim backstory is that she was trained from birth to be the world's greatest murderer, and her first kill traumatized her so badly that she has pivoted as far away from that as possible. I stress a lot that the Shadow should not be written as the trigger-happy maniac comics made him into and that the pulp version killed mostly to defend himself and others, generally left criminals to the police if possible, offered plenty of second-chances, had stories dedicated to the rehabilitation of criminals and so on, but none of this would matter to Cass.

Cass has literally chosen suicide over the prospect of living with murder on her hands time and time again, and The Shadow kills. When he kills, he does so without remorse, with unshakeable certainty. He hates death, he doesn't want lives to be at risk in the first place. But people will die if he doesn't do anything, and what he can do, what he exists to do, is turn the tools of evil against evil, and murder is the oldest tool of evil there is. He doesn't kill because a war scarred him, he doesn't kill because he's got a demon in his soul, he doesn't kill because he's mentally off balance, he doesn't kill because he's evil or sadistic or arrogant or anything of the sort. He kills because the men he fights chose death when they sought to harm innocents and fire guns at him. He kills because he is Death itself.

Regardless of how compassionate he is or can be, regardless of the fact that he's motivated by a desire to protect people, regardless of how justified he is, he is still dropping corpses and laughing maniacally doing so. Cass's real arch-enemy isn't Shiva or David Cain, it's Death, it's the thing that she's fundamentally most opposed to. And guess what The Shadow gets compared to often enough? Literally the very first line of the very first book where we get to see him, this is how we are introduced to him:

So the premise here is that we are taking a character who is defined by her fundamental opposition to death with every fiber of her being, who understands death on a level no other human being does, who is traumatized and hard-wired to detest death at all costs and to choose suicide over it, and asking her to team up with The Grim Reaper.

Even if he received the most abject lesson conceivable on the sheer wrongness of murder, even if he does put down the guns around Cass out of respect for her, he cannot protect his agents and others if he cannot shoot or kill those who try to harm them, and the protection of the agents is absolutely non-negotiable and not at all something he's willing to fuck around with by trying out gadget kung fu superhero alternatives. The Shadow has chosen to throw his life away for their sake time and time again, and no matter how appaling or disgusting Cass finds his deeds, even if he concedes that she's right and should be right on all accounts and that he is fundamentally a monster who has no right to judge others, he would not concede on his mission and he would make it very clear she would have to put him down violently to stop him from protecting others this way, and death has not stopped him before.

And to be upfront in case there's anyone who doubts it, Cass would kick The Shadow's ass, if they had to fight. She is the strongest fighter in the DCU, she lives and breathes fighting and combat in a way no one else does. And The Shadow's not one of those characters who is supposed to be invincible and the best at everything all the time always, he can and does lose fights and scrapes to people far less adept at it than Cass. He's a great fighter, obviously, he hauls bigger men than him through doors and was disabling people with Vulcan neck pinches decades before Spock, and he would definitely have an edge in other areas, but he's out of his league here. Frankly, I don't see The Shadow raising a finger against Cass unless she's been brainwashed into killing people by bad writing. Not because she's a woman, that doesn't really stop him from dealing with evil. But because, for one, she's practically a child compared to him age-wise. Two, he'd obviously know beforehand of her capabilities and how futile it would be to fight or even provoke her. And three, the Shadow's whole thing is knowing. The Shadow Knows and all that. Knowing comes with understanding.

He'd understand very quickly that there is no way someone this young could grow so quickly into the world's greatest fighter without horrific treatment that no one should ever be subjected to. He'd see the movements too practiced and quick, the self-control, the strength and speed far beyond even the trained warriors he's seen, the places where she's been scarred and is good at covering it up. Assuming he doesn't already know about her life story, any meeting between the two would lead to him very quickly figuring out that there's something much deeper about her opposition to killing than just moral reservations, something deeper than Bruce's own gun trauma.

Denny O'Neil's 2nd Batman and Shadow story was about The Shadow secretly helping Bruce overcome gun trauma, and Bruce rejecting The Shadow's intentions to hand him a gun. And to make it clear, people tend to assume that The Shadow only helps people for utilitarian reasons, which is not true as I've tried to demonstrate many times now. I don't want to convey that he would want to help Cass overcome her trauma just so she could be more efficient or something, absolutely no, he'd help her because he helps people in any way he can. I think a story with The Shadow and Cass might involve a similar premise, The Shadow understanding that she has been traumatized very deeply by death and refuses to accept it on any terms, trying to help her overcome it, only to learn that she does not want to "learn" anything she doesn't already know, that she has weaponized her trauma into a source of strength, and wishes nothing more than to help others with it.

And here's where we get to the part that allows the two to be on less antagonistic terms, because one thing that also very strongly defines Cass, at least the Cass I like reading most, is her stubborn, almost desperate need to believe in the best of people, that people can and will change for the better. Like The Shadow, her strength too is knowing, it's perception, the things that she knows about people that words cannot convey. Just as there are many things The Shadow would grow to understand about her that others would not, there would be many things that The Shadow would not be able to conceal from her. Things that no one but her would figure out. Things that, despite her age and lack of experience compared to him, he would have to defer to her knowledge on, which reverses the usual dynamic The Shadow has with people. And perhaps one aspect of that reversal, it's that maybe it's she who winds up secretly manipulating The Shadow into overcoming a deeper issue.

Cass's perspective on killing is shaped not just through trauma, but from a painfully intimate understanding of not just what happens to someone at the time of death, but the cost of murder upon the human soul, the ways it warps people into things they never should have been. Killing is a deeply, deeply serious matter, much more so than fiction seems ever willing to go into. Of course we suspend disbelief for fiction, there's nothing wrong with that, but if a story starts asking questions, starts poking holes into fantasies, they should not be disregarded.

And so it begs a question: How has it affected The Shadow? Is he really as remorseless as he appears to be? Is the fact that he's only killing evil people really of that much use? What's the cost of living as someone who has to know so much about so much evil in so many hearts? Knowledge never comes without price, and knowing evil is his tagline. When he enlists Harry Vincent, he makes it very clear that he has lost lives as he has saved them. From when is that regret coming from? What lives did he lose then? Is he saving people by damning his soul or merely prolonging the inevitable by piling corpses on another end of the scale?

If there's a character that could meaningfully start bringing these questions forth, who could ever truly get The Shadow to stop and reveal things to the audience he never would otherwise, maybe Cass could be that character. A girl who was raised to be a monster, who is treated as a monster and an aberration in-universe (and even outside of it), and turned that into a strength she uses to help others, who cares about everyone and refuses to let others be dehumanized as she was. Who better to know what lurks in the Shadow's heart?

Sometimes when I get an ask, I bullshit my way through infodump walls of text until I can structure it into something vaguely resembling a point. And sometimes, and I know it sounds crazy, but sometimes I get a very, very clear word on my mind related to it before I start writing, that almost seems to be a beacon pointing where I need to get to, and I work my way into getting there. Once you sent me an ask about crossing over The Shadow with Cassandra Cain, the word that came to mind the very second was Language.

It's an interesting relation the two have with language. Language is of course a very substantial part of Cass's character, who does not process language and linguistic development the way most people do, and instead reads body language to the point of superpower. Many stories revolve around Cass's relation to the concept of language, the help she may require from others in getting around things beyond her upbringing, and ways in which she has mastered beyond anyone's scope. Though she is mute, language is her power, what makes her what she is, and she is someone that Batman freely admits could kick his ass if she ever felt like it.

For The Shadow, language is also his power. He speaks all languages and connects allies all over the world, he is an expert ventriloquist, he is able to project his voice beyond what's physically possible, he can imitate voices perfectly to the point of being able to conduct group conversations single-handedly well enough to fool even the people whose voices he's imitating, much of his presence and terror and manipulation are done through his voice, arguably the very reason he exists in the first place is entirely because a radio actor's voice performance was so good and captivating that it tricked people into thinking the character was a real star and not just a glorified narrator. The man you cannot see, but only hear, the perfect hero for radio. And then of course the laugh, which I have a whole separate post on and which, in many ways, acts as a substitute for language in the novels. He uses the laugh so often as a substitute for statements or words, even to himself, that it's pretty much his own personal language. And language is at the core of how he deals with people, as he knows the right language to use to manipulate and move and help them. He knows what to promise, what to reveal, what to omit. He knows what to say, how to say it, when to say it. Language is the strings by which he puppeteers the world around him (and he can talk to animals, at least of one kind).

The Shadow and Cassandra Cain have mastered two different types of Language as throughly as anyone can possibly master them. The Shadow can talk a group of hardened criminals into killing themselves, Cassandra can punch a heart into stopping without killing it. The Shadow echoes his voice "through everywhere and nowhere at once" to whip crowds of thugs into frenzies, Cassandra outraces missiles and was tanking bullets as a child. The Shadow can lie and usurp lives so masterfully to fool even the families of those he's passing off as, Cassandra is a living lie detector who gleams inner conversations from miniscule reactions. The Shadow can speak every language known, Cassandra is the greatest master of the world's most universal language other than music. The two are supposedly human, but every now and then, something comes along to call that into question because of the things they can achieve. They cannot hide secrets from each other the way they do to everyone else. They are driven by a deep desire to help others, to make something out of the circumstances of their lives. To weaponize that which dictates they should be evil and monstrous into a relentless force of good.

Language is the root of understanding. And if nothing else, as impossible as a conciliation of their approaches to crimefighting may be, I think there could be an unique understanding between the two. Perhaps, and this is a bit crazier a concept but one that seems to be where I might have been heading towards all along, even Cassandra Cain finding a calling away from the frayed dynamics of the Batfamily, away from the Bat's looming presence, to become The Shadow's successor, swearing to uphold a mission of justice through non-lethal tactics while he stays on the backseat guiding her. If The Shadow could trust the safety of his agents and the protection of the innocent at the hands of someone as capable and selfless and good-natured as Cassandra, I think he'd be all too happy to be able to trust someone in such a manner, to no longer be the Master of Darkness, but instead to serve the next generation that's weaponized darkness without submerging in it. To achieve, and perhaps return, to his strongest, highest self: A disembodied voice heard, but not seen. Once again the narrator, not the star.

It's a concept I've thought about very extensively for the years I've been a Shadow fan, but now it occurs to me that, if I had to appoint a successor of The Shadow, someone who could take up the mission but shine on their own right, even improve it with the right guidance and circumstances, it would be Cassandra Cain. The Orphan, The Shadow of the Batgirl. Daughter of the greatest assassins, meant to be the world's most lethal murderer, instead pivoted to being one of it's greatest heroes, but never allowed to shine as she should. But in the darker, less restrictive and wilder world of pulp heroes, in The Shadow's world, a beacon would shine all the harder. Perfect strengths attached to perfect opposites, joined together for a greater good, unstoppable after together having weaponized that which most take for granted: the power of language to move worlds.

#replies tag #pulp heroes #comic books #the shadow #cassandra cain #batgirl #i always had a feeling that a successor to the shadow should not be modeled on batman but someone within that range #i never quite found a character i would be happy with taking that role or a similar role #aw shit i just talked myself into a new favorite character #that just so happens to be another character brimming with potential that's denied them by corporate overlords #who could have seen that coming

[sadistgalore]

Chapter 15: Luther's Brilliant Fucking Plan

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Taglist: @tropes-for-my-md-daydreams, @whumptakesthecake

Please let me know if you would like to be added/removed from the taglist.

CW: dehumanization, pet whump, lady whump, captivity whump, referenced torture (branding and burning), hair pulling/grabbing, referenced noncon, blackmailing, death threats, multiple whumpers, multiple whumpees, manhandling, shock collars, infidelity, creepy/intimate/delusional/sadistic/possessive whumper(s), noncon touching, noncon kissing, stabbing, implied torture/noncon

“So, how was she?” Dark asked as he sat down in the chair opposite Luther on the couch, both of their pets kneeling next to them.

He had returned from Maryland not even five minutes ago, giving a short greeting to his friend and a heartfelt kiss to his housewife.

“Oh, she was wonderful, Ed. You trained her well,” Luther said with a shit eating grin.

Dark chuckled, pleased that his defiant pet behaved so well for his best friend. Her hands were twisting and pulling the fabric of her dress, but he couldn’t care less at the visible discomfort on her face.

“I’ve noticed she has a few more scars than when I left her, including a brand,” he said in a low voice, face in a scowl once he stared at the designed burn on her right arm.

Luther didn’t look the least bit threatened at his friend’s dangerous tone. “Believe me, it was justified. She made a new friend,” he said in a mocking tone before harshly pulling at his pet’s hair.

Killian gasped as his scalp was pulled, every instinct telling him to sit still, though. His arms had healed fairly well, but the burns on his face would be deeply scarred for a while, if not forever.

“I see he had his own share of punishment as well,” Dark added, looking at the boy’s scarred face and arms.

“Your girl tried to feed him against my permission, then her defiance rubbed off on him. But I had them under my control soon enough,” Harper forced down a whimper as she recalled the horrific week of rape and torture she had spent with the man, who wasn’t sharing even a fraction as he should have with her captor. But she knew better than to say anything.

She then felt hands gripping her chin, taking her out of her thoughts. “Harper, did he touch you at all like the way I do?”

The girl swallowed as she stared at the familiar and possessive look on her captors face, before fearfully glancing over at the man on the couch. Luther’s face was emotionless, but she knew his mind was threatening her if she dared to tell the truth.

The kitty had finally stopped crying, knees tucked up to her chest on the bed. She and the dog, who was still tied to the chair, were staring at each other, regret in the dog’s and anger in the other.

“I’m gonna tell him, as soon as he gets back,” the kitty promised, throat scratchy and raw by the night they had shared together.

The man finished zipping his pants and rolled his eyes, not bothered to talk as he reached down to grab his shirt off the floor.

Kitty painfully sat up, pissed that he wasn’t paying attention to her. “I’m serious. He’s the only one allowed to rape me, he told you-”

Doggy screamed as his shock collar was set off yet again. Master grabbed his hair painfully, forcing him to look at Kitty.

“He. Is. Mine. Like you are Edward’s. Ed can do whatever the fuck he wants to do with you when I’m gone, just like I can do whatever the fuck I want to do with him. No one will care if I kill him, understand? If I even suspect that Edward knows what happened here tonight, and what will continue to happen, your precious little Ian is going to have a long and painful death. Understand?”

Kitty didn’t respond, just let out a small sob and rolled back over on the bed. The man smiled as he let go of the dog’s hair, walking out of the bedroom leaving two broken pets behind.

Harper breathed out, trying to not give away the emotion on her face, for Killian’s sake. “No, just the brand and a few beatings, Master. I was good for him just like you told me to.” It was forced, she knows, but best not to make him angry when he just got back.

Dark smiled, patting her head. “Very good girl. Sorry for the accusation, Lou, you know how I get about my pets.”

Luther laughed. “No worries, Ed. Besides, I would never dream of touching her.”

Killian’s heart dropped as he stared at the girl, watching her try so hard to keep a straight face and not tell what really happened.

All for him.

Dark changed the subject matter quickly. “Anyways, did you hear the news? Helene’s going away to Philadelphia for three weeks.”

Harper looked up confused. Helene? As in Congresswoman Helene McKinley? Beth’s boss?

“Really?” Luther questioned. “She never leaves DC.”

“Had to take care of a personal matter. She ensured the subject will be one of ours soon.”

“Very good. What does that leave you then?”

“I was thinking of taking Harper back to my base again,” Dark started, fingers flowing through his pet's raven hair to keep himself calm. “Possibly my manor, but you know how my gang loves to talk. And with how often Noah comes around, he’ll be sure to share my new pet with Noami. I’m afraid it’s too much of a risk to my marriage to take her anywhere but here.”

Luther chuckled. “Noami will never stop running her mouth to Helene if she finds out. ‘Helene did you hear? Your Edward found himself another slut to fuck behind your back! If you don’t murder his ass right now, I will do it for you!’” He finished the imitation with a smile, but Harper couldn’t tell if it was genuine or not when she stared at him.

Dark laughed at the scene, but continued. “Unfortunately, coming here to Delaware constantly prevents me from running my base in DC. I can’t let her be another one of my one-offs, she’s,” the man stopped to grasp her chin again, thumb running over her lip, “Special.”

Luther sat in silence for a moment, then spoke up as if a lightbulb had just casted a light over his head. “How about taking her to my building? The top floor is a private penthouse that I only have access to, with tons of rooms and space for you two to live. You’ll be easily able to travel between your base and there, and I could watch her while you’re gone!”

Watch her while you’re gone. Harper wished she had the nerves to scream her protests against the idea. But in reality, which one is the lesser of two evils? A sadistic man who sees her as nothing but a kitty, or a delusional man who sees her as a housewife that he can kill at any moment?

Dark scratched her chin, pondering the idea. Killian stared blankly ahead, a distant part of him hoping his Master’s idea would work; maybe he could see Harper more.

“You know, Lou, I think I’ll take your deal,” Edward said after a moment of silence. “Are you sure it’s not a problem for you?”

Luther waved him off. “Don’t worry about it. I barely use it anyways. You can even use it after Helene comes back or for as long as you need.”

“Thank you, Luther,” Dark said with a genuine smile, not the creepy one he always uses on Harper. “I owe you one.”

Luther nodded, scratching his pet's hair one last time before getting up. “Well, I should be getting back. Give me a call when you’re coming, and I’ll be sure to sneak you in.”

Dark got up as well, going out to shake his friend's hand. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, Luther. We’ll be there by tomorrow evening.”

You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, Beth.

Luther shook back with a smile. “Oh, I know. I’ll be looking forward to seeing you.”

I know, Harp. Now come on, we gotta catch the bus to get back home.

How do I get back home to you, Beth?

“Come on, Kill.” Killian rushed to get up, back hunched as he stood next to his master. As Dark walked towards the door to open it for him, Luther quickly turned around towards Harper, his dangerous gaze vastly different from his friendly one just a minute ago.

“If you say anything, I’ll kill him,” Luther whispered, hand gripping Killian’s neck as he raised an eyebrow at Harper.

Harper gave a slight nod, staring at Killian before mouthing, Goodbye, Ian.

The boy swallowed against the tight hold. Goodbye, Harper.

Luther rolled his eyes and pushed the boy towards the door, giving Dark one final goodbye before leaving. The said man closed and locked the door, loosening his tie as he walked back to his pet.

Harper’s instincts were screaming at her to run away from his predatory walk, but she stayed kneeling before her hair was harshly grabbed and she was pulled to her feet. “Oh, darling,” Dark said with a sick smile. ”It’s been so long since I’ve heard you scream.”

The pain on her scalp was relieved just before she was thrown across the room, back hitting the couch before falling to the floor. She shakingly looked up, expecting anger from her captor, but all she saw was lust. The extreme lust to hurt her.

Harper whimpered, lips trembling as she moved back until she hit the TV stand behind her. Why did this have to be her life? She was a good person- she was a detective for God’s sake. She devoted her life to searching for her brother who everyone said was dead. She worked to expose the most dangerous and corrupt people in her city with her best friend. And now she was a fucking pet for one of them, the same man that ruined her life seven years ago.

The girl heaved in before she broke down sobbing, her fight leaving as her reality came crashing down. The previous discussion was two sick men talking about moving her, so no one will know where she is. Or even alive. And if she wasn’t useful to him anymore, she would die.

Dark cooed as he kneeled down, fingers brushing the hair out of her face. “Oh, sweetheart, I know. You’re just so excited to see me. Don’t worry, I’ll make up for all the time we missed.”

Harper couldn’t even plead for mercy before her vision partially blacked out. Her head erupted in pain as it was slammed into the stand behind her. Through the fog that formed in her vision, she felt herself be laid down on the ground, and a heavy weight be placed on her waist.

She heard a murmur from above her. “Daddy missed his toy.” Dark’s face leaned down, lips trailing her neck. She felt his breath on her face that smelled of tobacco. Then she was forced to listen to her shirt being ripped open.

The man kissed her lips, passionately and with emotion that shouldn’t come from a man like him. His tongue slid in, trailing her gums and teeth and making sure to consume every part of her. Harper suddenly screamed when a knife was plunged into her shoulder, shrills and pleas being drowned out by the kiss as the knife dug deeper into her skin.

Dark pulled back, stomach filling with joy as he saw the tears cover her face, his finger going to trace the wound in blood. He made sure to coat himself in it before touching her face again, smearing her own blood there. He smiled maniacally as Harper’s scream almost shook the room when his thumb dug into the wound, every movement causing her face to contort in unbearable pain.

She’s never looked so beautiful.

“I love you, Evie,” he said before hungrily kissing the girl on the floor again, screams never stopping as she writhed under the man who would never let her go.

---

Nic almost fell off his chair as he heard a knock on his front door. His hair was a mess, eyes sunken and colored due to many sleepless nights, and clothes that had not been changed since five days ago. He scrambled to open it, seeing the familiar blonde and curly hair of the secretary.

“Beth,” Nic said in almost disbelief. From their falling out yesterday, he had figured she wouldn’t want to see him at all. But the girl looked at him with a sudden determination he had not seen the previous day.

“Let’s find Harper and expose these fucking bastards.”

Nic smiled and stepped back to let her in. “After you, Mrs. Carrien.”

#whump #whump community #whump blog #whump fic #whump writing #whump tropes #lady whump #whumpee #whumper #lady whumpee #male whumper #multiple whumpees #multiple whumpers #dehumanisation tw #pet whump #captivity whump #tw referenced branding #tw referenced burning #referenced torture #implied torture #noncon kissing #noncon touching #implied noncon #referenced noncon tw #hair grabbing #manhandling #blackmailing #death threats #shock collars #infedelity

[galaxyofmyown]

Okay so I just tripped and fell and ate sidewalk so! Maybe reader is helping hotch train for another marathon and they eat shit on the pavement??

oh my god. oh my GOD. this request was so so so fun to write. it’s just so fresh and fluffy and yayyy. and i’m actually very proud of myself for this one. if i’m honest YES i did write me and my friend in as a cameo because we were in dc yesterday morning making fun of all the runners, so i felt it needed to be done. i hope you love it and i’m sorry that i know nothing about running.

warnings: language, cheesy-ass confession

aaron hotchner x reader - marathoners

“I have a theory.” You pant, huffing and puffing as you struggle to keep up with Aaron Hotchner, your boss and King of Quarter-Zips. 

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” He replies over his shoulder, and you resent how even his voice sounds after 6 miles. Six. Fucking. Miles.

“I think you’re evil. I think you’re an evil little man with evil little powers who magically coerced me into training for this stupid marathon with you.”

Hotch laughs, and your resentment grows. If you laughed right now you would probably pass out.

“And why, do you theorize, would I use my assuredly limited powers to make myself listen to you complain all morning, every morning?”

“Because you’re obsessed with me. You can’t get enough of me. You would hear me give a four hour lecture on my favorite sedimentary rock if it meant you could hear my sweet, sweet voice.” You tease, and Hotch looks at you, two-thirds amused, one-third… something else.

Your profiling game was off this morning.

“Whatever you say, (Y/L/N).” He retorts, and you groan.

“Can you please, please, please stop calling me by my last name? It makes me feel like a high school football player.”

“Fine, (Y/N).” He says cheekily, dragging your name out in a way that makes your stomach twirl.

“Okay, well, since you’re in such a compliant mood do you think we could stop running? And then also never run ever again?” Hotch laughs again, and his good mood lifts your spirits. It always does. He checks his watch graciously.

“Five minute break.” He says, and you immediately fall onto a nearby bench. Hotch joins you but doesn’t sit, taking this time to stretch a bit.

“(Y/N), you should also use this time to-”

“No.” You say with a smile, letting the light breeze cool your overheated face.

“But-”

“Hotch?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut. Up.”

He hits his foot against yours, more of a playful nudge than a kick, and you bask in the short moment of contact.

You secretly love running with Hotch. The actual running part is… eh. But the Hotch part is great. You can rarely convince him to spend time with the team outside of work, so you jumped at the opportunity when he offered to train with you for the next marathon. But it also made you wonder.

“Hotch?” You ask again, cracking your eyes open. His body is blocking most of the annoying morning sun shining onto you, and you fleetingly wonder if he was doing that on purpose.

Hotch nods to show he’s listening even as his fiddles with his fancy running watch.

“You know Morgan runs, right?” You ask casually, fiddling with the hem of the oversized t-shirt you wore with your favorite leggings. Hotch looks up.

“Uh, yeah. I think I remember him mentioning it. Why?” He says, uber casual. You shrug.

“I’m just wondering why you chose to train with me when I obviously slow you down.”

“You don’t slow me down-”

“Oh, please. Remember the day I had a cold and couldn’t get up that morning? I heard you telling JJ how much you ran. I can’t get close to that on my best day.”

“Well, that’s why. Challenging you challenges me.”

“That makes literally no sense, but alright big guy. I’m ready to keep going.” You say, standing up despite the pain in your legs.

“We don’t have to if you’re too tired.” Hotch’s voice sounds distant all of a sudden.

“No, I really don’t mind. As long as you buy me breakfast after. Let’s go. We’ll run to the Capitol building and then back around to the smoothie place you like.”

 You start off without him, focusing on the sound of your feet hitting the pavement. You hear him trailing after you, and you run the crosswalk to the National Mall, the sand and small rocks crunching under your feet as you brave the rectangle of pain.

Hotch, of course, passes you easily, and after a bit you’re back to lagging 20 feet behind him. It rained fairly hard last night, and the ground is slushy like half melted snow. As Hotch turns in front of the Capitol Building, you opt for the marble-esque surface that separates the grass from the sand in an attempt to cut a bit of the corner.

You regret your decision immediately. The damp toe of your running shoe catches on the white material and you slip, your body slamming into the ground not two seconds later. You break your fall with your forearms, but the sting of gravel digging into your skin makes you wince.

“(Y/N)!” You hear a voice call, and now you officially want to die. You had briefly forgotten about your boss, your crush, the witness to your awkward fall. But now he was right in front of you, squatting down to make sure you’re okay. So you do what you always do when you find yourself in a painfully awkward situation.

You laugh.

It’s loud, and some of the other 6 am joggers shoot you odd looks. But it seems to make some of Hotch’s worry dissolve.

“You okay?” He asks with a small smile. Grabbing your hand to help you up. You nod, still giggling, and ignore the way your hand feels like it’s been set ablaze.

“Yeah, I’m fi-”

Except you don’t get to finish your sentence. Hotch takes a step back as he pulls you up and his foot makes contact with the same demon marble from which you met your demise. He slips backwards, yanking you with him.

You fall back together, fortunately hitting the grass. Hotch is under you to break your fall, which is a good thing until you realize you’re on top of him, one leg slotted between his.

Hotch clearly had the breath knocked out of him, and he groans, which, okay. It is clearly not the time for a noise like that.

“Oops.” You say, moving to get off of him. As you adjust yourself, you find your face is positioned directly over his, just inches apart.

How cliche.

Hotch, regaining his bearings, looks right into your eyes. You stop breathing for a moment. It isn’t often you get a free opportunity to just look at Hotch, but both of you have stopped moving. You admire his dark eyes, his slightly flushed cheeks, his strong nose. You wonder if he’s admiring anything about you.

(He is.)

You snap out of your reverie and realize how uncomfortable you must be making your superior feel.

“Sorry, sorry,” You say, embarrassed, and roll over to the side as gracefully as you can manage. You’re off of him but your thigh is still pressed against his hip, so you go to scooch away. He gently grabs your wrist before you can, however. Your breath catches as he runs his thumb over the irritated skin where you arm hit the ground.

“You know why I really invited you to train with me?” He asks, seemingly resigned to just… being on the ground now. You twist towards him and adjust so you’re sitting cross-legged, curiosity piqued.

“Why?”

Hotch sighs and makes a face. It’s the same face he makes when he’s about to say something he really doesn’t want to say.

“I wanted to see you. Outside of work. I just… I never had an excuse.”

You frown, confused, “We always invite you out with us. You never come.” You say, not in a mean way, because it’s just the truth.

Hotch falters and props himself up on his elbows. He isn’t looking at you anymore, his eyes steadily trained on the building before us.

“I don’t want to see you in a crowded bar surrounded by our coworkers. I wanted- I wanted to be alone with you.” He confesses, and you freeze. 

“What do you mean?” You say quietly. Because you think you know what he means. But you need him to tell you what he means because if he doesn’t mean what you think he means you’ll fling yourself into the Tidal Basin.

“(Y/N), I know you aren’t oblivious, and I know I’m not subtle. I’ve liked you since you first walked in the door to the BAU.” He says, finally, and you want to cry and dance and-

and kiss him. 

Which you should probably do, since Hotch has obviously taken your silence as rejection and looks like a kicked puppy. 

So you pull him in by the collar of his quarter-zip, kissing him enthusiastically on the mouth. He responds after a moment of brain failure, placing one hand on your thigh and the other on your waist. You know it must look ridiculous for two fully grown FBI agents to be making out like teenagers on the lawn of the National Mall before 7 a.m., but you couldn’t care less. Because it was you and Hotch, a glowing light after all these years of pain and loss and longing. You pull away after a long while, both of you giddy and smiley and bright-eyed.

“You too?” He asks like he can hardly believe it.

“Of course me too, always me too,” you respond, “even when you make me run.”

He laughs, kissing you again, to which you respond enthusiastically. Hotch pulls away and moves his mouth close to your ear.

“We have some onlookers at three o’clock.” He murmurs, and you slowly turn your head to see two girls, not older than 20, trying to enjoy their picnic barely 15 feet away. One of the girls scoffs.

“And people think we’re weird.” She says. The other girl nods, and they go back to eating their breakfast. You laugh.

“Okay, yeah, maybe they have a point.” You say, getting up and brushing the grass off the back of your t-shirt. Hotch does the same.

“Okay, so what do you say, two more miles before the smoothie place?” He asks, and you laugh in disbelief.

“You never learn, do you? No. We’re walking, let’s go.” You say, grabbing his hand because you can now. He surrenders, entwining your fingers and swing you arm slightly as you stroll. 

“Aaron?” You ask, trying on the unfamiliar name for size.

“Yes, (Y/N?)”

“Now that you don’t need an excuse to see me, do we still have to do the marathon?” You ask, tone casual. Hotch laughs and bumps his shoulder against yours. 

“(Y/N), (Y/N). Have you no shame? Actually, don’t answer that.” He says.

“I”m not hearing a no.” You say. 

“We’ll talk about it. Later.” But he kisses you on the forehead, so you take it as a win either way. 

(You end up agreeing to run the marathon. It’s awful and hot and long but when it’s over Hotch is still there with you, kissing you and smiling and promising that you never have to run again in your life. So you think it’s worth it.)

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine #ssa hotchner #hotch #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #hotch imagine

[whump-town]

It’s A Wonderful Life

Part one. Part two. Part three. Part four. 

Warning: talking about child abuse 

Fluorescent white is harsh.

The ones in the police station when his mother tried to run away the first time had irritated his eyes. Laying on his back, head cushioned by a deputy’s winter jacket, he’d gotten the idea to save himself from this mess. He spent the night on that station floor, while his mother pleaded for something to be done, staring long and hard at the lights. Waiting until he couldn’t stand the pain from his eyes being open for so long before blinking. He’d hoped to blind himself, aimed for it in the hopes that he would earn a fraction of goodwill from his father.

He didn’t need to be told that he and his mother would be going back to that house tonight.

Three months later, his father put him in the hospital for the first time. Despite the pressure across his chest, the pain of each breathe, he’d shivered harshly. Those blinding lights and white walls sucking the warmth from the room-- but maybe it had nothing to do with the hospital and the realization, at eight, that his father would rather see him dead than deal with him.

But for two hours, Aaron remembered what it was like to have a father. More crisp than the pain stabbing through his body, the chest tube wedged into his thin chest was his father’s commanding figure. The way his mother had moved to place herself between them until she saw his true motive.

He remembers his father soothing his out-of-mind whimpers, brushing his bangs from his face with a gentle knuckle. Gently, a nurse moving wires and keeping them from being tangled, his father had cradled him to his chest. “Easy. You’re okay now, baby.” It had been so hard to breathe, despite the oxygen canal under his nose. But he’d fallen asleep there with his father’s large flannel pulled over him like a blanket.

At least that hospital stay earned him a month of reprieve-- he’d been on blood thinners, inhalers, and way too much medicine for a child. His father couldn’t beat him, though, because he might not have been any use to the man but a funeral is more expensive than just leaving him be.

In his ninth-grade year, his father hit him so hard that a blood vessel burst in his eye. The light had been red. The nurse who put three stitches into his chin whispered a soft chide at him for fighting boys at school but there was something about her that still makes him think she knew. She let him sleep for four hours, fed him as many sandwiches as he could stand, and sent him home with jello stuffed into the pockets of his jeans.

There were fluorescent lights in the coroner’s office. The first time he’d ever seen a dead body-- his own father.

From there the lights lose meaning.

Getting mugged in college and cracking two ribs getting the shit kicked out of him when they realized he had no money. Breaking the metacarpals in his right hand punching somebody’s too drunk boyfriend-- he only remembers the blinding pain and a boy and Haley dragging him to the hospital a day later. Breaking more ribs in the academy falling off an obstacle, they called him brittle bones for the rest of training and they were right. Getting shot, too many times to count there. Being knocked unconscious, strangled, and beaten. Being blown up not once, not twice, but now three times. And… Foyet.

It seems as if he’ll never get a reprieve from their harsh downpour. Maybe he never will.

“I can’t let you all back there.” A doctor and a nurse meet them at the doors of the intensive care unit, the only thing separating them sitting numbly in the waiting room from Hotch. He’s already so close, they can feel it stirring something foreign in them. Maybe it’s the sort of raw thing that Hotch normally abates in them, soothes and calms long before they can truly feel it.

Dave leads them into the hospital.

Garcia clutches Morgan’s hand, following close on his heels, and trying to keep her eyes on the floor. Afraid that if she looks up she might start sobbing and she knows if she does start crying, she will not stop. Morgan lets her, he needs something else to focus on. Her cold hand squeezing his painfully tight works numbers.

JJ tries to speak with Reid and Emily but neither even attempts to try with a response.

“The best I can do is… five minutes, in pairs.”

Emily looks up from the floor, showing her own first signs of life. “I’ll go.” She goes alone.

JJ with go with Reid. Morgan with Garcia. Privileged with power of attorney, Rossi will get to stay. She tries not to think too hard about how that was once her. Before she ruined everything with Doyle, she was his power of attorney. Now Dave has to decide if he’s got enough fight left in him to keep going.

There’s blood all over his face. It’s caked under his nose and left to coagulate along his hairline. There’s so much it makes her stomach twist and she feels tears slip down her face despite the control she wishes to exude.

Emily sniffles, wiping the back of her hand under her nose hard. Unable to forgive herself for this blatant demonstration of emotion and unwilling to stop for just a moment and really think about what is happening. About the things that have happened today while she was fucking off at her desk. “Can we--” she clears her throat harshly. Forcing her shoulder’s back and stealing her voice she tries again. “Do you have a rag? I’d like to get the blood off his face.”

A nurse, standing right at the door in case Emily does get overwhelmed, nods. She’d expected to have to hold the women or offer some sort of false promise in a hopeful prognosis but the brunette agent just turns her back and regards her friend a little closer.

She’d seen him after Foyet. Seen him. Drugged out of his mind and numbly, nearly dissociated, from the nurses changing his bandages. It had hurt to see him so… he couldn’t even be there, mentally, to stand it.

“Here you go,” the nurse comes back. “Don’t touch the stitches and be careful--”

“I know.” She does, really, know what the nurse is going to say. She’s cleaned her own wounds and some of the others. She knows what to do. The important thing, right now, is cleaning him up so that the others don’t see it. The blood up and down him, he’s covered in it. It’s safer, better if they see him like he’s Hotch.

She’s hesitant to actually touch him but her time is dwindling down. Wiping at his eyebrow, she tries to think of something to say. Mindless. “Reid swears that there is some proven bullshit study--” the washcloth trembles in her hand. “I don’t know, I--I didn’t listen to him, to be honest.” An admission that would earn her a stern frown if… if he were here. But he’s not. “I think he’s just bluffing,” she admits. “I also don’t think if you had a choice, you’d want to listen to any of the sappy crap any of those nuts have to say.”

She didn’t want to, she didn’t even want to see him, but no one was moving and no one was speaking. So, she’d taken the doctor’s bait and agreed to go back first. Someone has to, it’s not a big deal. They look after one another-- she and Hotch hate each other’s guts most of the time but she always has his back. She always looks after him. Now is no exception.

The blood comes off and her time runs out.

“W--Wait!” She forces herself to take his hand, cold and rough, in her own. “Aaron,” his name feels wrong in her mouth but she’d been Emily for ages and it’s desperate but she’s terrified she’ll never have another chance. “Don’t you die, you son of a bitch. Please don’t die.”

Her legs carry her out of the building, only half-aware of the words Dave is communicating. They can come back in the morning (but she remembers what the doctor said about him surviving the night) and that Jack is staying overnight just to be sure.

Right. “Okay.” She’ll be back in the morning.

On a night not quite unlike this one, JJ had taken Emily home. To the home that she and Will were still renovating and whose walls were never truly silenced no matter the hours-- night or day. It had been exactly what Emily needed to get the hell away from all that overwhelming silence.

Will made them peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and tipsy from her wine Emily commended his skill. Obviously, JJ was doing something here, picking him, and Henry really lucked out. That was the best peanut butter and jelly sandwich she’s ever had (he sent her home the next morning with three more and even refrigerated they were amazing).

That night, JJ took Emily back to her closet and showed her the secret wardrobe-- full of clothes she’s stealthily stolen from their friends over the years. A soft green sweater that still smelled like Gideon, JJ informs her he pulled it over her head one chilly morning when they were in DC. They laughed sadly together, remembering Gideon’s very unique approach to affection. He never really hit his mark, did he? He was an odd one alright.

The real stash is in the back. Not the outrageous amounts of sweaters Garcia sends her home with-- always an excuse to go get new ones. It’s for the Morgan and Hotch memorabilia. It’s no secret the two of them will fork over anything you ask for-- fries, a pickle, an extra shirt, mittens, their coats. No, the hard part is giving those material items back.

“Jesus,” Emily hisses, looking at her friend with wide eyes. “And those are all from Hotch?” JJ had opened a shoebox full of gloves ranging in color and thickness.

JJ looks nearly ashamed as she nods. “He’s always leaving them everywhere!” she defends. Most do come from her finding them in random places he’s set them down and just walked away. One pair did come directly from his jacket pockets. He’d draped his peacoat over her like a blanket and she’d dug around for a piece of the hard candy he always keeps on his person and found them.

He used to lose so many pairs JJ used to wonder if Haley even bothered to get angry with him. She was frustrated and she didn’t have to go buy his big dumb butt a new pair.

“What’s your excuse for the shirts?”

The rule of shirts is you ask Morgan. Reid is a size small in t-shirts and when they already steal Hotch’s candy, scarves, and gloves they leave him his shirts… unless he offers first. Morgan always has one large, at least, in his bag. He is a medium but sometimes he just has to style a slightly larger shirt.

And JJ has an impressive amount of men’s mediums shirts-- the black, blues and one green shirt are all Morgan. The white ones are Hotch.

Emily had borrowed one of JJ’s Morgan shirts and slept on the couch. She’d laid awake just a little after they’d all gone their separate ways thinking about the impossibility that she’ll ever have JJ’s problem. They just don’t like her like that.

Tonight, Emily is dipping into her own reserve.

When she was ready to go into Witsec, Hotch gave her his button-down. Her own wouldn’t fit because of all the layers of gauze. She’d been the point of tears with aggravation over this and startled when he gently closed his hands over her own. She can loosely remember crying into his shoulder, shaking with fear. She was afraid, not mad at her stupid t-shirt.

She was terrified she’d never seen any of them again and he’d felt the same.

“Haley hand-made Jack this bear out of some of my old shirts,” he tells her. It feels like he’s taken a hot serrated blade and drug it from hip-to-hip, barring himself for her to see. “He sleeps with it every night.” He leaves out the obvious-- that she’d been afraid he’d die and Jack would forget him and that he now he wishes he’d done the same with her old shirts.

Emily startles when he moves to undo the buttons on her shirt but she lets him. Watching as he tugs his own off his shoulders. The two making eye-contact as he hesitantly guides her arms into his larger shirt. It’s stupidly large but doesn’t hurt to sit across her stomach.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

He shakes his head, lowers his gaze, and moves back.

For the months she was away, she could understand why Jack would cling to that bear. When that old shirt stopped smelling like him she locked herself in the tiny bathroom of her apartment, sat in her bathtub with her knees drawn to her chest. Was that her last tie to them? They’re slipping out of her grip, gone. Is that what she felt like to them too? A ghost.

That old shirt made it through a lot and two weeks after she came home she brought it back to him. The worn fabric clutched in both her hands.

“I can give you another if you’d like.”

He gave her three more and, as it turns out, he has so many. It’s a problem. After so many washes the fabric is too thin or Jack stained it with some food or dirt or any number of things.

Now she has an obscene amount and, if she leaves them long enough, they make the back of her closet smell like Hotch. So, despite how ridiculous it must make her, she sits in the back of her closet and buries her face in one of those old shirts.

Why can’t just one year go by with no life-or-death experiences?

“-- I heard David Bowe,” Garcia says to seemingly no one but he knows she’s speaking to him. Of course, she’d hold on when everyone else knows it’s time to give up. “Heroes,” she sighs, shaking her head. “I hope you can hear us, Hotch. Please come home.” Her thumb worries with the back of his hand, rubbing his knuckles. “I really miss you and--” her voice cracks.

That’s a stupid thing to say, she realizes. She saw him yesterday! They talked about the cafeteria running out of blueberry muffins and she’d apologized because she hadn’t thought to grab him one. But today she brought him one to the office. Thought it would make his Wednesday even better.

Guess not.

“It’s okay.” Morgan pulls her to his side, rubbing her back. He just looks at Hotch. Bruised up and down, exposed to them from the waist up. Morgan could fill in what he assumed Hotch’s scars looked like but now he knows. He doesn’t even know what to say.

Garcia presses a kiss to his forehead, a hot tear sliding down her face as she regards him for one more moment. A bitter smile twisted onto his lips as she spots his elusive white eyelash. Emily hates that thing. “I love you, Hotch.”

Morgan… takes his hand. Rubbing his thumb up Hotch’s knuckles. “Don’t leave,” he whispers, glancing at Garcia. Glad that she at least pretends not to hear. “I don’t want your job, Aaron. I don’t want to learn it. I don’t want the fucking paperwork or the--” his cracks and he pulls in a shuddering breath. Laughing at the tears that sting his eyes. “I won’t do it, do you hear me? So… come back, okay? Get better because you have to.”

There aren’t any other options.

Despite the childhood he endured, Aaron has only ever met one caseworker. He did go to college with a few who would eventually get there but, for the most part, he stayed the hell away from everyone in the psych department. The very last thing he needed was getting near those trigger-happy morons less he walks away slapped with a new label. And with them, it’s impossible to tell what that might be.

He does know one thing-- if profilers ride the line then caseworkers are like g-strings right up the asscrack. No offense, both annoy him. He works with profilers, they’re the worst. Most days he wavers into hating those bastards. Caseworkers… another example of people whose entire job it is to get into people’s lives and see the dirty stuff.

His entire life, all he’s learned to do is hide the dirty stuff.

It’s hard to be exposed.

So, maybe he should have befriended a caseworker or two. All that dirt, all that shit piles up until it’s hard to tell any of it apart. He can’t tell if he’s even real anymore-- sometimes he spends so much time trying to be normal that he can’t remember how to be Aaron. Old favorites feel like nothing. Books with words that once held him together at the broken, singed pieces of himself now are numb. Meaningless.

Just like him.

Leaving behind him, in his nothingness. Covered in scars and ugly.

Ruined.

“Agent Hotchner! I need you to calm down.”

Those fucking lights. He hates fluorescent lightbulbs.

“We have a machine breathing for you,” the doctor explains calmly. He flashes a penlight in both of his patient’s eyes. “Your lungs are healing. We’re going to put you back under, okay? Your team, Agent Rossi, is right outside. Your son Jack is safe. Get some rest Agent Hotchner, you’ve got a hard night ahead of you.”

Fuck. He’d just wanted them to turn the lights off. His vision hazes over and he fights once more against the obstruction in his throat before the world sinks into the inky black once again.

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #david rossi #spencer reid #jennifer jareau #penelope garcia #derek morgan #hotch whump

[popculturebuffet]

Goof Week: House of Mouse: Super Goof or Wish I Could Fly Like Super Goof (Patreon Review for WeirdKev27)

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Hello all you happy gorshers and welcome back to Goof Week, my week long celebration of Goofy’s 89th Birthday. And today I take my once a month trip down to the house of mouse as part of my patron kev’s yearlong celebration of the show’s 20th anniversary. And since I had this theme week in mind I asked him if it’d be okay if he strictly randomized goofy episodes, he said yes and here we are. 

Luck was on my side as I got what I remembered was one of my faviorite episodes of the show. But before I can get if it lived up to the hype or not a brief word on Super Goof. 

Super Goof is actually from the comics, first debuting in a story where Goofy thought he had super powers and fought the Phantom Blot in a cowboy hat. 

This concept was a hit so in 1965 Goofy was made a superhero for real with Super Goof #1. This dosen’t suprise me: this was the height of the silver age: The Lee and Kirby age of Marvel was in full swing and DC was still doing gangbusters. So there was market for a superhero spoof comic starring one of Disney’s best and brightest characters, who was given a bunch of super peanuts called super goobers to give him superman powers.  What DOES surprise me is the series lasted 74 issues from 65-84. And what’s more insane and wonderful? It didn’t get canceled because of low sales or anything. That was simply when Gold Key shut down... and Gold Key was FOUNDED three years before it meaning this book lasted the company’s ENTIRE lifespan. I’ll say that again, a book about goofy eating peanuts that started because of a story where goofy thought he was a superhero and fought a cowboy phantom blot, lasted 74 issues and only ended because the publisher shut down. That... is one of the most amazing things I have ever heard in my life. I’m genuinely impressed... this isn’t even a bad concept, I likes it and wish Disney would give it a full series. Farmer could do wonders with it. I’m just amazed that this odball little comic took off like it did. And as one final fun fact much like Superman, Super Goof set off the trend of Disney’s classic characters becoming heroes, with Donald’s own Papernik/Duck Avenger following in his footsteps. I REALLY want a Disney Superhero Verse in animatoin now, I know there was a mini series like that. And I will have to visit these comics at some point I just simply didn’t have room in the week with a movie review tomorrow. . 

So with all that out of the way how does Super Goof do on screen and does the episode hold up? Join me under the cut to find out. 

As usual for HOM I’ll be doing the shorts and overarching story seperate soooo

How To To Take Care of Your Yard:

Look anyone whose read my stuff or even just my goofy shorts special  will know how much I love the How To Shorts and how this series is responsible. This admittedly isn’t one of the BEST of them.. but it’s still fun to watch. Even a forgettable How To Short is still GOOD. It’s abotu Goofy taking care of his yard over the four seasons and has some decent gags but nothing really standout.  I Honestly DO wish I had more to say but this one’s just okay and it woudln’t stick out as much if both the wraparound and the other short weren’t so spectacular. Speaking of which. 

Locksmiths: This is one of the few shorts I VIVIDLY remembered from childhood and for damn good reason. This is THE best short i’ve seen so far for House of Mouse this year and for good reason. The premise is simple enough: The Golden Trio are locksmiths.. who end up getting locked inside their own office just after Minnie calls with something urgent to tell them. 

The results are comic gold, with the standout bits being Goofy’s keys which is just such a wonderful hurricane of puns with some great visual gags to start it off that I can’t help but love it

There’s TONS of other good stuff too: The boys fishing for the key, Mickey opening a ton of doors in a sequence MST3K would be proud of and the finale with the boys falling out the office. This is a true , hilarious classic and my words can’t really do it justice. Seek this one out on it’s own or in the episode you will not regret it. A true classic for Disney Shorts period. 

Super Goof:

So onto the main story. Goofy asks Clarabelle out and she’s not only incredibly receptive but simply asks to check her schedule.. which he interprets as no.  I would make a joke here but i’ts clear from previous episodes HOM goofy has Low Self Esteem: he was utterly crushed not having a valentine and by his friends all wishing he could be less Goofy. So him overreacting like this is in character and comes off as endearing: it’s not that he thinks so low of her he’d think sh’ed pull something like this.. it’s that he’s so doubtful of someone liking him for who he is deep down he self sabotages something I can PAINFULLY relate to as that’s one of my biggest personal issues hands down. 

So outside presumably on break...

Not THAT kind of break. Though since I bring it up: they both were wrong. They WERE on a break, and it was wrong of tweedle dee and tweedle dum there to keep needling it ESPECIALLY since their the ones who TOLD HIM to hide his sleeping with the waitress and took NO responsibility for that. Rachel treating it like an affair constantly when she’s the one who wanted space and didn’t give him any paramerters for said is fucking terrible. It’s telling that in the reunion trailer everyone but Matthew LeBlanc, who was clearly just having some fun agreed they were.  That being said Ross still slept with someone five seconds after being on said break, still listneed to the two of them on hiding it when it was a bad idea, and STILL caused said break by being a clingy asshole to such a degree even his previous history of being cheated on does not justify or excuse how badly he treated Rachel. What i’m saying is they both sucked, and thus deserved each other, and by the end NEITHER was remotely likeable, with both having done terrible things both in said will they or won’t they hellscape and outside it, with Ross dating a student and Rachel dating her assistant. 

Anyways after that thing I clearly needed to get off my chest, we get a narration informing us a METEOR IS COMING and it strikes the peanuts Goofy’s depression snacking on, as a result he becomes SUPER GOOF! And after a display of his powers with various disney characters (finding Gepetto and Pinocchio in a whale, saving the dalmations from cruella , lifting the giant from the littlest tailor) and finds he has a narrator. No really Goofy notices and is not happy about it despite all superheros having one. I mean he’s not wrong, look what the X-Men’s did to  Cyclops:

But regardless he has him and Goofy flies through the air with the quickest of ease through the house of mouse impressing everyone who has no idea he’s goofy. This gag is a carry over from the comics and a transparent parody of the superman clark kent thing. But it works because Goofy still uses his name in costume, still has his hat and really changes nothing about his appearance. It’s simple but sometimes you just need a very simple gag to work and overxplaning it spoils the whole thing. Trust me I know as a certified experinced fuck up. 

So after the first cartoon Super Goofy guest stars, and we get some neat gags with the disney movie characters, though my faviorite is Peter Pan’s reactoin of “He Can fly he can fly he can fly, big deal. Anyone can do that”. It’s both perfectly in character and utterly hilarious. 

Goofy however starts to feel disheartneed as everyone compliments him.. and Minnie says he’s better than a regular goofy as do the others minus Mickey because he’s a good egg. And Clarabelle but he misinertperts her like of super goof as her liking him better as that. 

So fed up with everyone liking him better, Goofy throws away the peanuts, which he kept in his hat.. though one did fall in his waiter’s uniform. Remember that. The narrator questions if this is really the end and what if there’s peril but Goofy’s stubbornly instiant he won’t do it no matter what. 

Cue the what: another MUCH LARGER metor heading straight for Mainstreet

Goofy refuses to summon super goof despite the danger... Mickey has an apt response for him

This is the one scene I don’t really like: Goofy has a righ tto be upset they all prefer someone who just showed up hours ago over him, especially beceause it IS him, to the point Daisy was upset she got a picture of goofy instead of super goofy because J Jonah Jameson’s not going to pay for pictures of his next door neighbor. But Mickey has a right to not want to die horribly in a cataclysm of fire. 

So Goofy mopes off like his son to go save the world, fine whatever. Only as is cartoon law, the trash has been picked up meaning he dosen’t have any goobers.. except the CHEKOVS GOOBER. With it he chews it, flies up and has a truly impressive display holding it back while it’s just over clarabelle before dispoising of it. he hits on her in super form but she says she already has  date with regular goofy. Goofy’s confidence is restored, he’s probably getting laid tonight and we close on a Mike add for a school for Goofy’s. How much is tution.. asking for a me. 

Final Thoughts: This wraparound was great, a few small flaws but it has a great, engaging charcter driven story with some delightfully silly jokes that are right up my ally. It’s easy to see besides my love of superheroes why this one stood out to me: It’s funny, heartwrenching and stars one of my faviorite character.

The shorts are also good, one that’s okay , a bit too long but not bad, and one that’s an utter masterpiece. In fact the only reason the first short feels so long is you really want to get back to the main plot fast,  and that’s not a bad problem to have. This was an excellen tepisode and I recommend seeing it out. 

Before I get to my whole patreon speil, i’d like to say that House of Mouse STILL is not avaliable on Disney+ for reasons that haven’t been made clear. As such it’s on my Not Streaming List, a list I keep and update reguarly of shows that SHOULD be streaming on a particular service and have no clear reason NOT to be such as musical rights issues like the ones likely keeping shows like Drew Carrey, Northern Exposure and Murphy Brown off streaming. So check that out if your curious, link is on my main page and hit me up if you have any suggestoins for it. 

So thank you for reading and if you liked this review give it a like and consider joining my patreon at patreon.com/popculturebuffet. As a patron you’d get access to exclusive reviews, the patreon’s discord and to pick a short each time I do one of these shortstaculars. Donald’s comnig next month and the deadline is in only a few days to join up for said month so the clock is ticking. Even a dollar a month helps me reach my stretch goals so please i fyou can sign up today and if not, I understand and i’ll see you at the next rainbow

#goofy #goofy goof #clarabelle cow #house of mouse #mickey mouse #donald duck #minnie mouse #daisy duck #superheroes #super goof #goof week

[lovelyirony]

76 for winteriron or 94 for rhodeytony?? ily and your work ma’am your vibes are immaculate -ambivalentmarvel

thank you! and reminder: please send in the full prompt! 

76.) “If you lay a finger on him, I’ll kill everyone in this room.” 

Tony Stark was not supposed to be a detective. He was not supposed to be a lot of things. But when his father had told him at age seven that all he’d ever be was a disappointment, he decided he might as well do whatever the hell he wanted with his life. 

So. A detective. That had gone over well with his college advisor. 

“Aren’t you...aren’t you Howard’s son?” He had said nervously, readjusting his glasses for about the eighth time in seven minutes. 

“Yes, but I also have a mother. And my mother is very keen on my having some skills of my own. Between you and I, we all know my father is going to hand it over to his business partner.” 

(This all is a very direct lie. His mother could not honestly care less what he does with his life as long as he never looks her in the eye and tells her that boxed wine is good. He’s not going to look her in the eye for quite some time.) 

Being a detective isn’t all film noir and extravagant lifestyle. Sure he gets paid the big bucks. He blends into high society well but is just unknowable enough to put on an old pair of jeans and slink into a coffee shop under the guise of being another guy on his laptop. That’s a skill few possess. 

There’s also the tiny, teensy little detail that he’s one of the only detectives to risk secret-agency-detection because in all honesty the security systems were built by Stark Industries and Howard wasn’t exactly what anyone would call “stellar” at security measures. 

Tony, however, was. 

(Did some side work for SI, you know the drill. Sure his father wasn’t exactly thrilled, but it’s not like there was the PR nightmare of Stark Sr. not being as smart in his old age as people always expected.) 

So when he gets an offer for finding and capturing the Winter Soldier from someone named Natalie? 

Well, he asks if he gets to use his frequent flier miles and packs a bag for DC. 

The Winter Soldier is regarded as a conspiracy theory. A man who is all machine, does the dirty work for an undercover organization, and has a shiny arm that can do a lot of things that Tony dreams about at night. 

He likes conspiracy theories. Enjoys the hell out of solving them. (Roswell was a particularly fun one to crack.) 

So he starts with research. 

There is one thing to be said about the Winter Soldier: 

He’s notoriously bad at hiding his tracks beyond the usual security measures. Restricting camera access, destroying tapes, passing off a flimsy excuse as to why a politician, peacemaker, or civilian that was causing a little too much trouble was suddenly found dead, the coronary reports restricted on a need-to-know basis. 

Don’t make him laugh. 

People talk. They always do, doesn’t matter if it’s been a year or thirty. 

The coroners, the police, the people that surrounded the target. They all nervously whisper about suspecting someone else. 

He gets closer to the location. He can tell by the thrum he holds in himself now, the way sleep doesn’t come as easily. (Although he still gets it. You don’t buy 400 thread count for nothing.) 

Hydra is still in business. Of course it is. 

He pays SHIELD a little visit. 

That organization is about the worst-kept secret in the world. He dresses up in a smart suit, ridiculous glasses, and pastes a cheesy grin on his face. 

He’s in an interview for tech. Gets lost on his way there. The person conducting the interviews has them booked back to back. When a “Mr. Edward Jarvis” does not show up for the interview, the next candidate will come in. 

Of course, he looks like any other employee scurrying around with stacks in his arms. Face is obscured by cameras. He’s bypassed Stark Industries’ security features, and he gets to the file room. 

Holy shit. It’s bad. 

After spending at least two minutes thinking he would die from coughing from all the dust. 

They don’t organize anything. All of the paper files, it seems, have been abandoned as soon as the digitized platform came out. (Which makes sense.) 

He finds the file box on Winter Soldier. Everything, suspiciously, is blacked out. But he finds one name: Alexander Pierce. 

For a man who is about to overtake SHIELD and ruin the entire world, you think he’d have a less consistent schedule. Or that his house would be harder to get into. 

Moral of the story: you can break into the window in an attic. 

Tony is making coffee. 

Pierce stops in his tracks. 

“Who the hell are you?” 

“Why do you have Folgers? You live in a nice neighborhood. You live like this?” Tony asks. He takes a swig of coffee, winces. “God I haven’t had stuff this bad since I was in college. Ew.” 

“If you’re here to kill me, you’ve got yourself in a bigger mess than you know.” 

“No, I don’t think I am,” Tony answers. “Because you? You’re stuck here. With me. You can try to run but to be completely frank, your joint medication by the paper towels speak to your ability to outrun me. There’s also the little fact that I’m not here for the typical reason.” 

“So what, you’re not an enemy of SHIELD?” Pierce asks. 

“Of course I’m not,” Tony says, smiling. “Even like a couple of their agents. But you’re not exactly SHIELD, are you? Some PR talked about one head cut off, two more grow back. I’m not exactly sure if you know how human anatomy works, but...” 

Pierce grins. 

“Oh, then you know about our little project.” 

“Of course I do,” Tony says. “Not so little, though. Didn’t get him operational until 1954? What was that, your birth year? Can’t imagine he’s perfect.” 

His smile thins. 

“It’s taken trial and test runs. But he’s perfect now.” 

“Ah, there’s the problem,” Tony says. “Because he probably broke a lot of people, didn’t he Pierce? Probably threw at least one person. I saw the specs for the arm. A lot of power behind that.” 

“And how would you know about the arm?” Pierce asked. “We don’t keep blueprints.” 

“You don’t,” Tony says slowly. “But the creator does. And you should’ve looked a lot carefully at who was behind your little experimental arm, Pierce. You shouldn’t trust a Stark to stay in a lane.” 

His eyes widen. 

Tony loves theatrics. He also likes that he was the one who technically found out about the little quirk. 

“So here’s what you didn’t know,” Tony continues. “Our hypothetical technological inventions have a tracking component on them, just in case we cannot find them in our inventory or database. And even though your scientists did an excellent job at hiding the box and filling it with a truly terrible amount of cookbooks, they did not know about that little feature.” 

Tony pulls out his phone. 

“Your Soldier is in...wow, you’re keeping him local? Pierce, I expected more from you.” 

“What do you want.” 

“I want him,” Tony says. “And I’ll leave you alone.” 

“Absolutely not,” Pierce seethes. “Why would we give you the star of the show?” 

“Because,” Tony says. “Your show sucks, if I’m being completely honest. One branch of Hydra is completely dedicated to the idea of Inhumans and is batshit insane. Another branch is literally only focused on weapons, and another is about this. It’s a shit-show. If there was a show about this I would not give it anything past three seasons.” 

Alexander Pierce looks like he’s going to burst a vein. 

Tony moves on. 

“Along with that if I cannot get him from you, I will be getting him. And if you touch a hair on his head, I will kill you.” 

Alexander Pierce looks mad. Which of course he does. Tony tends to have that effect on people, Rhodey says so. 

“Do you think you can even get out of my house? You think I won’t know your face, know that Tony Stark threatened me? Will anyone even believe you?” 

“Aw Andy, you say the sweetest things,” Tony says smiling. “I told you I was a Stark for two reasons. I’ve already told you the first one, let’s see when you wake up if you can guess the second.” 

“What--” 

And...man down. 

And Pepper told him a taser-pen was “hopefully frivolous” and “why the fuck would you ever make that for a pen you barely you know which coffee cup is yours and you just drink from both.” 

Pierce is left tied up in his kitchen on the floor, Tony admires the window seat for a brief moment, and leaves the files incriminating Pierce along with about sixty to a hundred other people. 

He has a taxi to catch. 

- 

“You know he will probably kill you,” Rhodey says on the phone. “And then I get to give my eulogy and I’m going to tell everyone you secretly liked cheese pizza only.” 

“I will literally commit a war crime against you,” Tony says. “Not even joking. I’ll face Congress if I have to.” 

Rhodey rolls his eyes. 

“You can’t, they’d kick you out.” 

“Oh, just for wearing a ripped up crop top and jean shorts? What, would I be a menace to society?” 

“You’re always a menace,” Rhodey mutters. “Listen, I gotta go. Pepper’s freaking out about your advertisements in the newspaper and the correct grammar.” 

“Bye!” Tony says. 

DC is definitely not Tony’s style. At least, for now. He can’t even enjoy coffee, he has to foil an assassination plot. 

Winter Soldier is not subtle, as he’s said. Neither are the Hydra agents who are just painfully obvious. 

At least this might be done by dinner.

He also faces the Winter Soldier. That’s fun. It’s too early to really be anything but fun. 

He walks right up to him. 

“Do you know someone named Natalie?” Tony asks. 

“What?” Winter Soldier asks. “No. Move or I’ll move you.” 

“Very robotic, ugh,” Tony says, smiling. “No, I have a job to do. You’re not moving me.” 

Winter Soldier lunges. 

Tony sidesteps and throws him off his balance with a cafe chair. 

Their fight takes them to a bridge. 

“You’ve compromised the mission,” Winter Soldier hisses. “Why?” 

“Because I got hired to bring you back,” Tony says. 

“To Hydra?” 

“No,” Tony says. “God no, they’re terrible. No, someone named Natalie wants you rescued.” 

“Natalia,” Winter Soldier murmurs. “How do you know her?” 

“I don’t,” Tony says. “At least, far as I know. I was asked to find you and bring you to her and whoever else is there. So, are you in?” 

He pauses, looks out at the city. 

“How are you gonna get me out of here?” 

“You underestimate the power of tourism,” Tony says. “Let’s go.” 

One “I Visited the Washington” sweatshirt and long hair wrapped into a bun later, Tony is walking out with who appears to be Bucky Barnes. 

“Of course you are,” Tony mutters. “Okay, let’s get to the meeting point.” 

“Are you staying?” Barnes asks. 

Tony cocks his head. “What do you want me for?”

“You just helped me escape from Hydra. You’re most likely near-suicidal. I think you need to stay close.” 

Tony rolls his eyes good-naturedly. 

“I’m not near-suicidal. Of course I’m not. I stick around for a really nice pizza joint. But Natalie--or Natalia, you called her that right?” 

“Natalie’s a fake name.” 

“Of course it is, who names their kid Natalie anymore?” Tony quips. “But besides the point. She probably can do you more good than I can. After all, I don’t ever drink out of the right coffee cup. I am very, insanely doubtful that I am of any help whatsoever.” 

“Fine then,” Barnes says. “I’ll keep an eye on you.” 

“I’m sure you will.” 

Tony doubts this. 

But he drives him to where whoever the hell hired him lives. It’s a nice, upscale apartment. Probably costs about as much as his whole apartment building’s rent in total. 

Of course, the woman who greets them looks gorgeous. Barnes knows her easily enough. 

“Thank you, Stark,” the woman says. 

“What do I actually call you?” Tony asks. “You know my name, I know two of yours.” 

“Call me Natasha,” she says. “And anything else isn’t your business.” 

“Of course not, I would expect a check in the mail otherwise,’ Tony remarks. “So. Barnes is delivered back to you. Expect payment tonight or tomorrow?” 

“Tomorrow at twelve,” she answers. “Afternoon.” 

“See you around,” Tony says, waving. “Barnes, try not to kill anyone right now. Seriously gonna ruin the springtime mood, you know?” 

Bucky Barnes stares after him. 

Natasha smiles. 

“Welcome back, James.” 

He nods. Goes and sits in a chair. 

“You gonna turn my brain back to mush or let me stay?” 

“Stay,” Natasha answers. “I escaped Red Room. I knew I needed to get you.” 

“And why not do it yourself? It’s not like you can’t,” he answers. 

“Because I was confident that Tony could leave more of a...dramatic element to it,” Natasha answers. “And he did. SHIELD is currently reforming all of its employees. One of the ladies who always let me eat strawberry yogurt from the fridge worked for them. He also helped dismantle any chance at regrouping to get you.” 

“Smart,” James answers. “Who is he? Stark?” 

“He’s an asshole, but a skilled detective,” Natasha adds. “Son of Howard Stark. You remember him?” 

“He was supposed to be my next mission,” James says, feeling a bit of the Winter Soldier seep back in. “Guess I won’t have a perfect record.” 

“You don’t have a perfect record, trust me,” Natasha adds. “And I didn’t get you for anything other than a rescue mission. You’re free.” 

-

Being free, James finds, is terrifying. 

Natasha has set him up with his own apartment. He has therapy appointments every Wednesday and Saturday. Grocery shopping is...interesting. 

And he keeps using his past skills to check in on Tony, who is doing well in life, if not a bit...wary. 

He’s assuming you don’t expose the underbelly of at least two secret organizations without gaining some traction. 

He’s gotten takeout four times this week. It’s Thursday. This is sad. 

His therapist also recommends that he gets “friends.” James is not exactly sure how to do that. 

So instead he breaks into Tony’s office. 

“We’re friends now,” he announces as Tony yelps and drops his plate. 

“Oh my god you could’ve just not snuck in!” Tony screeches. “I dropped my rolls!” 

They do become friends after that. Tony decides that James needs to try every single coffee shop that’s ever open. 

(He’s a sucker for iced caramel lattes. They’re good.) 

They both learn how to cook different foods, and try to make noodles. 

“Oh my god we’re both disasters,” Tony says, laughing. He takes a picture of James poking at the disastrous attempt. 

“Take me to pizza?” he asks. 

“Like you have to ask,” Tony says. “Come on.” He smiles at him, amazed by how much he’s changed. He grabs his jacket. 

-

 It is Rhodey who clocks it first. 

“You like him,” he crows. “You like him. You like the assassin!” 

“Ex-assassin,” Tony corrects. “And no. Of course I don’t.” 

“You call him ‘babe’, Tony.” 

“And I call you all sorts of pet names,” Tony argues. 

“Calling me literally the weirdest pet names like ‘honeybear sweetums’ or ‘platypus’ does not count,” Rhodey says. “You do don’t call me babe. Besides, you like hugging him all the time and I guarantee that you like him. Even if he is an ex-assassin and still thinks completing a thousand piece puzzle gives you the same rush of serotonin as jumping out of a car.” 

“He’s fun like that!” Tony protests. “Besides, he doesn’t have a lot of people in his life.” 

“That’s a lie,” Rhodey says. “He regrettably met Steve. Again. And he has Sam. Which I think they are friends. Natasha makes him do things.” 

“Wow your description of friends are so amazing,” Tony deadpans. “It’s like you have some of your one. You sound like a robot.” 

“I’m still right, it’s not like I’m not,” Rhodey says. “You know this. Pepper probably also knows that you like James.” 

- 

He consults Pepper. Clearly she will have some sense. 

“I demand a raise,” she says. “Because I can detect this shit better than you can.” 

“You’re getting a raise but not because of this.” 

“Good,” Pepper says. “Now go organize a nice dinner out or something. Get out of here. I’m rearranging your office desk.” 

Tony groans. He hates it when she does that. 

- 

He supposes they are both right. 

So he also supposes that he might have to take James to a coffee shop and tell him. 

- 

What Tony doesn’t know is that James is gearing up to tell him that he likes him. 

It was brought to his attention by Sam and Natasha. 

“You like him,” Sam says. 

“We’re friends!” 

“Friends don’t write their wedding vows on a napkin,” Natasha remarks. “Go organize a coffee date and tell him. I swear if you don’t tell him I’m going to make you confess at three a.m.” 

“If you get me up at three a.m. I’m violating so many rules,” James says. “Like at least four.” 

“Do five!” Steve yells from the couch. “And tell Rhodey hi for me!” 

“No, he hates you,” James says. 

“Exactly!” 

He sighs, texting Tony. 

hey can u meet me @ clocktower, 7? 

sounds gr8 :) 

Tony doesn’t know why James wants coffee. But he’s happy and definitely only that, ignore his shaking fingers. It’s the caffeine clearly. 

(The caffeine isn’t helping. He knows that.) 

“Hi,” James says. “Thank you for coming to the coffee shop. Tonight.” 

“You’re awkward,” Tony blurts out. “Why are you speaking in fragmentary sentences?” 

“That was at most only one fragmentary sentence.” 

“Oh.” 

They sit for a moment, James goes to get coffee. 

Tony steels himself. 

“You remember how I told you that you probably weren’t going to see a lot of me?” Tony asks. 

“Are you leaving?” James asks, eyes wide. “I’m going with you. Obviously.” 

“No you dumbass, I’m not leaving,” Tony says, taking another sip. “But do you remember?” 

“Clearly,” James says with a snort. 

“Well I was wrong. And we’re friends. And...well. Fuck it. I love you, and not in a like a friendship way. I really, really have been wondering what it’s like to kiss you. And if you don’t feel the same way then just tell me and we’ll be cool just give me like a month.” 

James grins. 

“You mean to tell me we can finally actually go on a date at that fancy seafood restaurant you’ve been dying to go to?” 

“We could’ve always done that, but yes it will be nice to look at you across,” Tony says. 

James takes his hand, smiling. 

“Can I take you out on Friday then?” 

“I’ll wear my best suit,” Tony says, grinning. 

- 

When they’re asked about how they meet, it’s not exactly like you can say “oh I got assigned to find and capture the love of my life and we also managed to wreck a secret organization” for the origin story. 

So they usually keep telling people they met while on a business call. 

Technically true. 

#lovelyirony writes #tony stark #winteriron #i rlly like this prompt :) #i adjusted it a tiny bit #bucky barnes #natasha romanoff #pepper potts #rhodey #i think tony's just a Disaster but a Smart Disaster

[shotgun--rider]

Displacement

A Dean x Reader oneshot 

Y/N gets into a tight spot on a hunt and Dean handles it about as well as you’d expect. 

Word Count: 2660

Warnings: Dean (briefly) being a dick, your average grab bag of monster killing violence, Dean Winchester’s emotional awkwardness special 

A/N: Yeah, quarantine really got me on the Supernatural fic train. Sorry?

Y/N grunted with the effort of shoving a headless vampire corpse away from her, turning as quickly as she could to fend off the one creeping up behind. He snarled, lunging forward, but she was faster, dispatching him in much the same way with a swift swing of her machete. 

Pausing for a heartbeat to take a breath, she surveyed the carnage around the empty space. From the outside, it looked as if the building had once been a factory or a warehouse. Inside, it had been stripped and re-organized by the largest nest of vamps that either Y/N or the Winchesters had ever seen. Across the cracked concrete floor, she could see Sam wrestling two of the creatures at once, blood streaked across him that she could only hope wasn’t his.

Briefly, Y/N contemplated running over to help him, her thoughts cut abruptly short as she was slammed bodily into the nearest wall. She gasped involuntarily, lungs working to take a breath against the force of the impact. The weapon in her blood-slicked hand went flying, and she watched it skitter across the floor, just out of reach. Shit. 

Towering over her, one hand compressing her throat, an intimidatingly large vampire snarled down. Y/N’s vision was already filling with black spots all too rapidly with her airway being crushed, and even if she’d been at full strength, the vamp was built like a brick shithouse. Her weak struggles seemed to have no effect on the larger man. 

Come on, Y/N, she growled at herself. She’d gotten herself out of worse situations before. Mustering all of her remaining strength, she hooked her foot around the back of his knee, yanking roughly and sending both of them crashing to the ground. He let go of her throat instinctively to catch himself on the concrete, and she coughed desperately, her head spinning with the fresh rush of oxygen. 

Quickly, she scrambled forward on hands and knees across the gritty floor, reaching out for the discarded machete. Her fingertips were inches from it when a hand landed roughly on her ankle, dragging her backward with fingernails digging into her skin. A strangled cry escaped her lips, equal parts frustration and fear. A quick glance through the hair falling over her face told her that Sam and Dean were clear on the other side of the warehouse, preoccupied and unaware of her plight. Even if she screamed, they’d never get to her in time. 

Damn it, come on, she snapped internally. She was a fucking hunter and this was not how she was going to die. Meanwhile, the vamp had forcibly flipped her onto her back, snarling at her with a distinctly predatory glint in his eye. Blindly, her hand shot above her head, scrambling around for the feeling of the machete she knew was somewhere nearby. 

Then, everything was happening too fast to process. The vampire lunged forward, pinning Y/N to the ground with his full body weight just as her hand finally, finally closed around the machete’s grip. Adrenaline singing through her veins, her arm swung with the machete just as a separate shout echoed through the empty space. 

Just before her blade reached his neck, the vamp’s head went flying, leaving Y/N pinned to the concrete by the dead weight of a corpse that was rapidly bleeding out all over her chest. 

She looked up to meet Dean’s green gaze, his face scowling with a fury she couldn’t remember ever seeing before. “Seriously?” she huffed, gesturing to the body she was still struggling under. The smile pulling up the corners of her lips died instantly when that fury didn’t fade. 

“Why didn’t you ask for backup?” he practically spat at her, kicking the body to the side with one boot. 

Y/N scrambled up hastily, grimacing at the feeling of warm blood soaking into her clothes. “I was a little busy. Besides,” she glanced at him almost defiantly. “I had it handled.” And she had, in the end. She’d gotten her weapon back, she’d been ready to kill the creature herself. Dean didn’t need to know how much of a battle had ensued earlier. 

He scoffed, turning away from her. “Oh, yeah. That looked handled.” Ignoring her protesting shout, he stomped off, making his way to the entrance of the warehouse.

And they were right back to normal. Y/N sighed, shaking her head and following his retreating figure back toward Sam. Dean was probably the best person she knew, and one of the only people she’d bothered to open up to after losing her sister. Lately, though, he’d pulled away more and more, treating her more like a frustrating child than one of his best friends, and it was killing her a little bit every time. Of course he would get tired of her eventually, she’d figured as much. She just hadn’t ever really thought of what she would do when that actually happened. 

Well, looks like it’s time to figure that out, she thought bitterly. It didn’t really help matters that she’d been a tiny bit in love with him from the first moment they’d literally collided working the same case. Maybe more than a little, but it wasn’t like it mattered anyway. Dean didn’t do attachments, and he certainly didn’t go for girls like her. And now, it seemed, he was done with her platonically as well. 

“Whoa, Y/N, are you okay?” Sam’s eyes widened as he took in her bloody appearance, and she offered her best smile to the friendlier Winchester, shaking herself out of thoughts that weren’t important.

“It’s not mine,” she assured him quickly, ignoring the irritated huff as Dean brushed past both of them to load his weapons back into the Impala’s trunk. Not for the first time, she wondered what she’d done to make him hate her so much. 

Sam seemed oblivious to the tension, cheerfully hopping in the backseat and leaving shotgun for Y/N, which was, incidentally, the last place she wanted to be. In her experience, it was always better to just avoid Dean until he got his head on straight, which wasn’t going to happen if she was sitting two feet away from him for the next seven hours. 

Wordlessly, she turned her back on the boys and changed into a spare t-shirt, not wanting to risk further ire by bloodying Baby’s front seat. It was an ill-fitted AC/DC shirt that Dean kept in the trunk for emergencies, but she’d rather wear that than stew in vamp blood all the way back to the bunker. And it wasn’t like that was the first time she’d stolen either of the brothers’ clothes. 

She got in the car reluctantly after that, trying to focus on how much her legs appreciated sitting down as opposed to the grouch in the driver’s seat. She lasted barely a half hour of Dean’s green eyes flicking repeatedly between her and the road before she was reaching out to shut off the radio, resisting the urge to slam her hand on the dash. It wasn’t Baby’s fault that her owner was behaving like an idiot. 

“Okay, what is your problem?” Y/N demanded, wincing as Sam’s eyes startled open in the rearview mirror. “Sorry, Sam.”

Dean huffed a sarcastic laugh, focusing on the empty highway stretched out in front of them. “My problem? It’s not my problem if you keep trying to get yourself killed.”

“You sure seem to think it is,” she shot back. “A vamp tackled me, so what? I would have ganked him just fine if you hadn’t decided to rush in and play hero.”

A muscle shifted in Dean’s jaw, but he didn’t reply. 

“Do you think I can’t take care of myself or something?” she persisted, irritation running through her veins. “Dean, I hunted on my own for years before I ever met the two of you and I was fine.”

“Yeah, doing what? Simple salt and burns?” Dean rolled his eyes. “We deal with more than ghosts, Y/N, and every damn time I turn around you’re covered in blood.”

Simple salt and burns. Dean knew she’d jumped straight into the deep end of hunting from the start, chasing the demons that killed her little sister. There had been no journal, no Bobby, no connections, and everything she knew was learned through some seriously risky trial and error. He was the only one who knew how bad it had been. She forced herself to look out Baby’s window, blinking back the sudden stinging in her eyes. 

“I don’t have time to keep looking after you because you’re too stupid to remember to look over your shoulder.”

A humorless laugh escaped her, and she shook her head in disbelief. “I may as well get out of your hair then, right? Wouldn’t want to take up too much of your precious time,”

“Dean,” Sam started from the backseat, at the same time as Dean finally turned to look at her, guilt flickering on his face. 

“Y/N,” he started, as if trying to figure out how to walk back the argument he’d let go too far. 

“Whatever, Dean,” she cut him off, not willing to hear whatever excuse he was probably going to offer. “No point in staying where I’m not wanted. I was always better on my own, anyway.”

That much was just a blatant lie, but at this point she’d say just about anything to just end the stupid argument. Tears stung at her eyes again, and she glared resolutely out the window at the highway.  

The rest of the ride back to the bunker was painfully silent, broken only by the argument the boys seemed to be having while they waited for Y/N to get out of the gas station bathroom they’d stopped at halfway. Both of them fell immediately silent when she approached, but it made her feel marginally better to see that Sam was also getting growled at. 

It took every ounce of her willpower to keep from breaking down crying in the car, and when they finally arrived back at the bunker, she walked to her bedroom without a word. Behind her, Sam was arguing with Dean again, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. 

Y/N locked the bedroom door behind her, but now that she was finally free to cry in peace, the tears wouldn’t come. She was tired, and empty, and she just wanted to crawl into bed and sleep until the ache in her chest stopped trying to rip her apart. 

Instead, she pulled the suitcase out from under her bed and started methodically packing. So this was it, then. She was going to leave and no one was going to stop her and she was going to be alone again. It always ended up that way, eventually, and she didn’t understand why it hurt so much more this time. 

The doorknob rattled, and then someone was hammering insistently on the door. Y/N sighed, not even having to ask who was on the other side. “Go away, Dean.” Maybe it was a childish response, but she didn’t think she could take seeing him. Not now. Was it too much to ask of him to let her go quietly? 

“C’mon, Y/N, let me in!” he persisted. 

She said nothing, resolving to ignore him while she stuffed another flannel into her suitcase. She was pretty sure it had originally belonged to one of the brothers, but they wouldn’t miss it. And she had to take something with her. 

The lock clicked behind her, and suddenly Dean swung the door open, a familiar set of tools in his hand. 

Her mouth hung open. “Did you just break into my bedroom?”

He had the grace to look sheepish. “Maybe?”

“Dean, what the fuck,” Y/N sighed out, having absolutely no other response to give. She turned back toward her closet, her fingers itching for something to do. 

“You’re really gonna leave?”

“Yeah.” She shrugged, pushing down a wave of emotion. “It doesn’t matter, Dean. Just forget it,” she went on, trying to get ahead of whatever half-assed apology Sam had probably forced him in here with. 

He crossed his arms and then his ankles, leaning back on the wall opposite her as he helplessly watched her pack up her life with them. “You’re not...unwanted,” he said awkwardly after a pause. “I didn’t mean any of it, Y/N, I shouldn’t have said--”

“So why did you?” she cut him off. That was the part she still didn’t understand, what had prompted this whole mess to begin with. “Why the hell do you hate me so much?”

His eyes widened almost comically, and in another situation, she might have laughed. “Damn it, Y/N, I don’t hate you.”

“So what, then?” She went back to rolling up a pair of her ripped jeans, stuffing them into a corner of the suitcase. 

He didn’t reply at first, and she waited. Knowing him as she did, she knew that a conversation like this was probably the last thing he wanted to be doing. 

“You scared the shit out of me, okay?” Dean burst out finally, staring at her with a haunted look in his green eyes. “I thought I was gonna have to watch you die, and I still don’t know how to tell you--” he trailed off, looking unbelievably uncomfortable. 

Y/N’s nose wrinkled up. “Tell me what?” She had never considered herself a particularly intimidating person outside of killing monsters, especially not to someone like Dean. 

“That I l-love you.”

Her heart leapt in her chest like the little traitorous worm that it was, but she knew he didn’t mean it like that. Still, that didn’t explain why he was saying it to her now. She cocked her head at him, her eyes tracing over the constellations of freckles on his face. “Yeah, I love you guys too, you know that.”

Dean huffed, looking somewhere between nervous and amused. “No, Y/N, I--” he ran a hand through his hair. “Look, I’m sorry for being such an ass, Y/N, I--” he stopped again. 

“Dean,” she cut in gently, trying to remind herself that she was still mad. “Just spit it out,” This was officially the weirdest conversation she’d ever had with the older Winchester, and watching him struggle was kind of painful. 

“Fuck it,” he said suddenly, and then he was off the wall and coming toward her, catching her with one arm around her back as she stumbled over a forgotten shoe in her surprise. 

His other hand came up to tilt her face up to him, lips crashing against hers. For a moment, Y/N’s brain short circuited completely, because Dean was kissing her and none of the day’s events had remotely suggested this as a possible outcome.

She caught up to the situation with a jolt, wrapping her arms around his neck before he could think she was rejecting him, and sank into the kiss, quickly losing the battle against keeping track of everything she was feeling. Her hands gripped the flannel he was wearing and for the first time in her life, she understood what it meant to lose yourself in someone else. Her heart was racing, and all she could think was that after every night and every bar that he took someone else home, every hunt that nearly killed one of them, every fight, he was here, now, with her, and he felt like home. 

She smiled against his lips, her eyes opening to see his green ones sparkling as he pulled back just enough to speak, still holding her against him. “Still leaving?”

She smacked the back of his head lightly, smiling back. “Call me stupid again and I’ll kick your ass, Winchester,” she warned, trying and failing to summon a glare. 

“I think I can live with that,” he whispered back against her lips.

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #reader insert #x reader

[sjbuchananbarnes]

The one where she finds out

Steve rogers x reader 

W.c: 1814

-

“Ok we have the steak ,rice,chips,tortillas,salsa and guac.” Nat pointed at each of the items of food. “What else are we missing?”

“Nothing, beer is cooling along with the tequila, will take everything out once everyone is here.” Wanda assured, looking down to see if she got any stains on her high waisted shorts and white tank top.

“Alright where's the girl of the hour?” Sam walked in the kitchen with Bucky not far behind.

“She had a quick phone call ,she’ll should be done any minute now.” Natasha threw her apron and smoothed down her mini cotton white dress and fixed her tan sandals.  

“What’s up bitches!” You walked into the kitchen, in a cute mini red floral dress and white sandals.

“Congrats babe!” Nat and Wanda made there way to hug you, which ended up being a big group hug.

“400 missions how does that feel,hot stuff?” Bucky asked his arm still around your waist.

“Amazing.” Smiling up at him. “Now what do we have here?” You looked around the kitchen.

“We have your favorites.” Wanda voice was filled with excitement since Nat and her self cooked dinner.

“Thank you girls.” Hugging them once again.

“Anything for our favorite girl.” Nat pinched your cheeks.

“So when are going to eat?” Sam rubbed his belly.

“Just waiting on Steve.” And right on cue the blonde came walking in with a duffle bag in his hand and a small gift in his hand.

“I got called in for a last minute conference call in DC.” He sighed,sad that he had to leave you. “I’ll be back in a week,I’m sorry sweetheart.” Saddened that he couldn't be here with you tonight.

“It’s okay Steve, will go out to dinner, just me and you when you come back.” You walked up to him and wrapped your arms around him, resting in his arms for a couple of seconds.

“I’d love that.” Steve mumbled into your hair, hugging you tighter, and earning teasing thumbs up and winks from the group,which he only rolled his eyes at. As much as he dread pulling away he finally let you go and shoved two neatly wrapped box into your hand.

“Steve, you shouldn't have.”

“It was nothing.”

“Should I open it now?”

“No!” He yelled but tried to play it off “Maybe later, with everyone else's.”Scratching the back of his neck.    

“Mr.Rogers, I’ve been told to inform you that the quinjet it ready.” Fridays voice interrupted you.

“I have to go know.”

“Thank you Steve.” Giving him one last quick hug he walked out.

“It’s always a pleasure, pretty lady.” He walked out.

“Now, let’s feast!” Wanda clapped her hands in excitement and soon you only heard laughs and plates clattering together.

-

“My god I’m stuffed.” Tony groaned and plopped next to heavily pregnant wife,whose swollen feet  rested on the coffee table.

“Me too, everything was delicious, thank you girls.” Laying your head in Bucky’s lap and quickly his hand was giving you a scalp massage. “Buck, stop.” You mumbled,but made no effort to stop him. “ ‘M going to fall asleep,Buck!”

“Ok stop,stop.” Wanda got from her spot next to Vis and made her way to you, with her hands behind her back. “Close your eyes.” Excitement filled her voice, quickly doing as you were told you sat up and closed your eyes. “Tada, open.”

“Wanda you shouldn't have.” You got up to hug her and opened up your gift, it was a photo of the team, in front of the new Stark facility,the one up state, all giving a toothy grin, cuddled up next to one another,happy, you never got to see how the picture came out and this was the first time seeing it.“I love it.” You gasped and held it up to your chest. “Thank you,Wanda.”

“Okay, okay me next.” Nat handed you her gift, it was a small display box that held a scrap of metal along with a bullet and underneath it read. ‘Kabul, Afghanistan,2009.’ “Our first mission.” The two of you were driving a nuclear engineer out of the city , but you were ambushed by the Winter Soldier, both of you shot by him, she worse than you, left for dead.

“ I would've died without you.”

“And now I think I’ll die without you.” You latched onto her.

“Sorry about that,again.” Bucky murmured.

“It’s okay,Buck. We know it wasn’t you.” Resting a hand on his lap for reinsurance. After opening up the rest of the gifts, which were really thought full you were only left with two gifts, Steve’s gifts. Going for the smaller box first, you opened it contained another small black velvet box, after opening it up you let out a gasp.

“He remembered.” You whispered, eyes filling with tears as you traced ever so lightly the bracelet.

“What? What is it?” Natasha was basically jumping out of her seat, everyone around you was just as eager as there redheaded friend.

“One time we went to the mall, you know we were trying vamp up his wardrobe.” Chuckling at the memory of Steve standing in front of your door, asking for fashion advice, which Tony scoffed.

“Why didn’t he ask me.” He crossed his arms over his chest.”You have horrible sense of fashion.”

“Anyways.” You threw a playful glare at Tony. “He asked for my wonderful taste in fashion and we walked by a Tiffany and Co and I saw a bracelet, and it was exactly like the one my mother had, the one she was buried in.” There were tears down your cheeks, memories of your mother flooded your mind, her laugh filled your ears. The horrible sight of your dad holding your fifteen year old hand as she was lowered into the ground.

And before you knew it, you were engulfed into a big group hug as you cried into Sam’s chest.

“I’m sorry.” After a couple more minutes of crying you pulled your self of Sam’s chest, but was still begin surrounded by the group.

“No need, sweety pie.” Pepper gave you her award giving smile.

“Can we see the bracelet?”

“Oh yeah.” You handed them the black velvet box.

Tony let out whistles as examined the bracelet. “ Capsical really out did him self.”

“That must of cost him a fortune.” Wanda couldn't keep her eyes away from the bracelet.

“I can't believe he did this.” Pepper was at ‘aw’ with the gesture.

Bucky quickly let a snort,”C’mon it’s like you guys don’t know him, one time he blew out so much money for a Walther PPK/S, for Peggy because he was so in love with her.” He snorted at his friend.

The whole team stared at Bucky with wide eyes.

“What did you just say?” You questioned him.

Bucky’s eyes widened at shifted uncomfortably on the couch. “ U-uh a W-walther PPK/S, that’s what he got her.”

“No, no, the love part.”

“Uhhh, uhh.”

“Bucky?’

“No, no, no.” He mumbled rubbing his temple.

“Yeah, that’s helping, keep doing that.” Sam patted his thigh.

“So your telling me all you fuckers knew he was in love with me yet decided to tell me nothing?” You paced back and forth through the living room, biting on your thumb.

“It wasn’t something for us to say, sweetheart.” Pepper spoke up.

“Pepper we literally told you that Stark was in love with you, because you were to blind to see.” You threw a questioning look.

“True.” She pointed her finger at you.

“So do you like him?” Bucky aked.

“Of course I do you idiot, It’s so painfully obvious, I thought I was going to have show up naked in his room.” You threw up your hands in frustration.

“What stopped you?” Nat smirked as she leaned back on the couch.

“I kept thinking he didn’t like me, I mean I know he likes me as a friend but I didn’t think it went further than that.” You mumbled and played with your fingers.

“Oh c’mon, your telling you never knew?” Sam questioned.

“Samuel.” You raised your eyebrow at him.

“Okay, okay.” He threw his hands up in defence.

“It’s just that.” Letting a sigh out, “If we were to go on a date, it would be like if we were on our twentieth date. We know everything about each other, if we do go out and then break up it’s going to be so awkward.” You were talking out loud but you were basically talking to yourself .

“But what if you do work out, and live happily ever after.” Tony lifted his brow.

“Yeah, look at us.” Pepper rubbed her belly and laid her head on Tony’s shoulder.

“Fuck it, I’m going to talk to him.” Declaring and standing up.

“He’s already asleep.” Sam informed.

“I’ll just call him tomorrow then.”

-

“No luck.” Wanda asked as she threw herself on your bed.

“I had one second with him before they called him in again.” You sighed and massaged your temple. “He told me he’s not going to be able to talk to ‘till he gets back.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to wait for him when he gets back.”

-

“He’ll be arriving soon, so I’ll tell you how it goes.” You decided to go with  miniable makeup and threw on a pair of jeans and the other gift Steve gave you, a plain white t with a small pocket on the left breast, and it smelled just like him. It was his and he knew how much you loved his clothes felt on your skin and how it smelled so much like him.

One last look on mirror you tied a knot on the shirt so it showed just a bit of your stomach and put on your shoes.

“Good luck.” Wanda and Nat threw you a thumbs up.

“Thanks.”

-

“You got this girl.” You mumbled to yourself as you paced back and forth in the room before going to the actual departure room and before you knew it Maria came running to you out of breath, resting her self on your shoulder.

“Wow, you okay?”

“He’s -He’s not-Woo.” She clenched her side. “Wow I can’t breath.”

“Maria what is wrong?” You stared at your friend who was freakishly out of breath for begin an agent.

“He’s not alone!” She whispered yelled at you not sure who could hear.

“Who Maria?”

“Steve.” She finally stood up straight, and then you felt your heart drop.

“What?” Devastation filled your voice.

And right on cue Steve walked into the room with a very smiling Sharon Carter wrapped in his arm.

“Hi Y/n, I missed you, how was the party?” He gave you a side hug.

“Great.” You threw him a fake smile, you were late.

-

The one where Steve finds out

#steve x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #captain america x reader #captain america imagine #captain america x y/n #steve rogers x y/n #steve x y/n #avengers imagine #imagine #oneshot #steve rogers one shot #captain america one shot #avengers one shot

[octoberobserver]

(I’ve Got You) Under My Skin - (Eddie Can Sing)

“I’ve got you under my skin. I’ve got you deep in the heart of me. So deep in my heart, that you’re really a part of me. I’ve got you under my skin…”

“Yo, Frankie, what time is it?”

Eddie Kaspbrak broke out of his reverie of half-singing-half-mumbling while he typed, halting immediately at the familiar, yet hoarse voice calling from across the room. His eyes leapt up towards the hallway and was met with the sight of a very rumpled Richie Tozier, clad in oversized sweatpants and an old, stained AC/DC T-shirt, staring at him through bleary eyes, his hair sticking up in every direction imaginable and sans his signature specs.

“Whoa, Rich, you look like crap.”

“Wow, thanks Eds. You say that to all the girls or am I just special?”

Eddie stared at Richie, really letting himself look, drinking in everything from the blood-shot eyes, to the ghostly-pale skin, to the shaky hands and everything in between.

Something was…wrong.

“What’s up with you? You sick?”

Richie blinked before giving a half-shrug, almost like he couldn’t be bothered to attempt a full one.

“I’m fine.”

And yeah, if Eddie wasn’t sure of something being amiss before, he was 100% certain now. Short answers were never Trashmouth Tozier’s thing and that had not changed in the last thirty years, Eddie re-learned fast since moving in with him five months ago.

He watched as his roommate shuffled across the room, his whole body slumped, as if he were a lackluster marionette with strings too long and a puppetmaster too apathetic. There was a weight to him, like he wore a boulder as a backpack, pushing down on the expanse of his shoulders.

Eddie shook his head before he could dwell on Richie’s shoulders. Now was not the time.

“You uh…you want some tea? The kettle just—”

“We got any coffee left?” Richie cut across him, his tone sharper than Eddie was used to hearing outside the hysteria of dealing with a killer clown.

“Uh, yeah, think so. A bit. You want me to—”

“No, I got it.”  

Eddie bit his bottom lip, a pang of something flaring painfully in his chest.

He’s not Myra. Don’t compare him to—he’s not her. He’s just having a bad day. Don’t be so fucking sensit—

A loud crash interrupted his spiralling thoughts.

“FUCK!”

Eddie threw his laptop onto the cushion and leapt up and around the couch, heart in his throat as he skidded into the kitchen.

“What the hell was—”

The words died in his throat as he was met with the sight of Richie, kneeling on the kitchen floor, surrounded by broken glass and coffee-grounds, his head in his hands and hung so low that Eddie couldn’t see his face.

“…Richie?”    

He tensed, his whole body as still as a statue, almost as if he thought if he didn’t move a muscle, Eddie somehow wouldn’t see him.

Richie Tozier, a man of constant movement, energy flowing from him in waves, had never been so stagnant.

It looked… wrong.

Eddie was padding over to him and kneeling down before he could think.

“Whoa, fuck, Eds!” Richie exclaimed, hands flying from his face as he tried to shoo him away, “Watch the glass! You could hurt—”

“It’s fine, Richie. I’m fine. But… you’re not ,” he murmured, aching to reach out and touch him, but holding himself back.

Richie didn’t even try to argue with him, staying silent, refusing to meet his eye, which spoke volumes, really.

“I’ll…get the dustpan. Don’t move. There could be tiny shards—just, don’t move a fucking muscle until I say so, okay?”

“Yessir!”

His mock-salute was half-hearted and his tone lacked its usual ‘charming’ sarcasm, muttered instead to the floor.

Eddie’s stomach lurched with worry.

But he powered through, making quick work of sweeping up the coffee granules and whatever glass he could see. When he was done, he halted in front of Richie, who was still kneeling, having done what he was told and not moved an inch.

“Come on,” he murmured, gesturing with his hands, “let’s get you up.”

Richie tilted his head ever so slightly, not quite meeting his eye.

“You know how bad I wanna make a boner joke, right?”

Eddie rolled his eyes, just about stopping himself from pointing out that he wasn’t the one kneeling crotch-level in front of another man.

Not the fucking time, Kaspbrak.

“I know. But you can make it from the couch. Come on,” he urged, holding out his hand, “careful. I know you can’t see shit right now, and there might be some pieces I missed.”

Richie stared at Eddie’s hand like his fingers had morphed into live snakes.

He tried (and failed) to shove down his offense at that.

“Take my fuckin’ hand, dude. Don’t make me challenge you to arm-wrestling again.”

Richie snorted, sounding a little more like himself (even if he didn’t rise to the obvious bait) as his hand enveloped Eddie’s.

Eddie swallowed, his heart skipping a beat as he was reminded, yet again, just how fucking giant Richie’s hands were.

Gently, he tugged his friend up to a standing position, eyes scanning the floor for any wayward glass. When he didn’t find any, he began walking backwards, leading them out of the room, towards the couch.

He could have dropped Richie’s hand as soon as his feet touched the hardwood floor of their living room. But he didn’t. Instead, he held on, probably tighter than necessary as he navigated around the couch and took a seat, pulling Richie down to sit beside him.

Their hands stayed clasped, Richie squeezing back ever so slightly.

“Rich,” Eddie mumbled after a beat of silence, leaning forward to catch his eye, “what’s…what’s going on, man? You’ve been in your room all day. Is it…are you upset about your date the other night? ‘Cause it’s like I said, dude, fuck that guy. There’s plenty of people who would—”

“I couldn’t give less of a fuck about Dylan Lemass and his hard on for Instagram likes, Eds,” Richie interjected with a sigh, wiping his free palm down his face, rubbing his eyes.

Eddie waited, worry gnawing at his insides as dozens of possibilities flashed through his brain at what could be the matter.

Is he dying? Sick? Looking for a way to tell me he wants me to move out so he can have his bachelor pad bac—

“I just…I haven’t been sleeping well and it’s…fucking with me, I guess.”

It sounded like a different confession altogether.

Something like, “I’m kept awake by haunting deadlights I can’t escape,” or “every time I’m alone in the dark, I hear that fucking clown taunting me,” or “I’m afraid if I close my eyes, I’ll see you die all over again.”

Maybe it was all three. And more. Eddie knew he had felt similarly the first few months after…everything.

And they were coming up to the one year mark now. It made sense if Richie was finding it difficult to get any sleep.

Eddie swept his thumb over the back of Richie’s hand before he could second-guess himself.

“It’ll be a year next week…have you thought any more about going to therapy? It’s helped me.”

Was what he wanted to say.

What he probably should have said.

Would definitely say another day.

Now though, as he thought back to the last time he saw Richie sleep peacefully, he just squeezed his hand and murmured, “Come with me.”

Richie blinked, a line forming in between his eyebrows as Eddie began tugging him again, up from the couch, across the living room and down the hallway.

He faltered only minutely outside Richie’s bedroom before squaring his shoulders and pushing the door open wide.

“Eds, what…” words seemed to fail Richie, his hand that was still clasped in Eddie’s, tensing.

“Lie down, Tozier,” Eddie ordered, finally letting his hand drop as he moved to close the drapes, blocking out the vestiges of late evening light, the room engulfed in a semi-darkness.

He could just about make out the bewildered form of his best friend as he fought down the myriad off Kill Bill sirens whirring in his head, too taken with his lightbulb idea to really heed any potential warnings from his over-anxious brain.

“Buy a girl dinner first, Edward. I’m not that kinda lady.”

It was a stalling tactic, it didn’t take a genius to see that.

Eddie reached out and laid his hand lightly on Richie’s shoulder.

“Just…trust me, Rich. Lie down.”

He paused.

“I promise I’ll be gentle.”

That got a surprised laugh to bubble from Richie’s throat.

Eddie practically preened, forcing himself to step away lest he be caught out.

“And Eddie gets off a good one!” Richie exclaimed as he shuffled over to the left side of the bed, sounding so much like his thirteen-year-old-self that it made Eddie’s heart ache.

He bit his lip as he watched him, his heart racing at the sight of Richie standing at the bed, lowering himself down to sit back against the headboard, hands folded in his lap, head tilted at Eddie, as if awaiting instruction.

And fuck, didn’t that do things to his insides.

Not. The. Time. Kaspbrak.

Taking a deep breath, Eddie tried to work up his nerve for his dumbass plan.

Richie blinked.

“So, uh, what’s—”

“I’ve got you under my skin,” Eddie began to sing lowly, eyes focussing on a spot over Richie’s head as he tried not to dwell on the truth of the words falling from his lips, “I’ve got you deep in the heart of me. So deep in my heart that you’re really a part of me. I’ve got you under my skin…”

Eddie paused, blushing furiously under the dark, widened gaze of his best friend. Even without his glasses, it still felt that as if he was a human X-ray machine seeing right through Eddie, right into, well, the heart of him.

Could you be anymore obvious, dipshit?

“You uh…you slept pretty good the other night when we were watching that Chris Hansen exposé,“ he tried to explain his flawed logic, rubbing the back of his neck. "I thought…I thought maybe, some soft sounds might uh…might like lull you to sleep, or whatever.”

So fucking stupid. He has a fucking TV in here, genius. Why would he need a live performance from a mediocre—

A small smile spread across Richie’s face, his eyes almost unbearably soft.

“You’re saying I get a private Eddie Kaspbrak concert?” He asked as he pulled the covers up over himself, shifting further down to lie in the bed, “Sign me up, dude. Know any lullabies?”

“I’m not singing you a lullaby, Richie.”

“Aw, but Eds! Rock-A-Bye Baby is a class—”

“I’m leaving,” Eddie rolled his eyes, face burning at the fact he actually implemented his idiotic idea as he turned in his heel, “this was such a dumb—”

“No, wait, Eddie!” Richie half-yelled, sounding more animated than he had the entire evening, “I’m sorry, I’ll be good. Sing whatever you want man, I…I like your voice.”

Eddie turned slowly, frantic heartbeat pulsing in his ears, wishing he could see Richie’s face, but not able to now that he was lying down.

“Fine. One song. Two, tops. Then I start charging and I’m not cheap.”

“So many jokes, so little time,” Richie replied, smile audible in his tone as he spoke to the ceiling, “deal. But uh…could you like, sit down or something? I’m not super psyched about trying to sleep when someone’s standing at the foot of my bed like a psycho killer peeping on sexy coEds in a slasher flick.”

Eddie rolled his eyes again before scanning the room.

“Sit where, Rich? You don’t have any—“

“The uh…the bed’s fine. You know if you…shove a pillow behind your head?”

Eddie’s heart leapt into his throat as he eyed the space on the right side, perfectly Eddie Kaspbrak-sized.

Richie must have heard his hesitancy.

“C'mon Eddie, you know the drill. We did it all the time as kids.”

“We were like eleven, Richie.”

“And we’re 41 now. Age is just a number, man. If it wasn’t, you wouldn’t have offered to sing me a lullaby like two minutes ago.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, forcing his feet to move, his heart hammering a crescendo in his chest.

“I specifically said I’m not singing you a lullaby, asshole.”  

He watched as Richie shifted in the bed, turning ever so slightly to blink up at him.

Eddie’s stomach did a somersault as he stood at the side of the bed, their eyes locking.

“Okay, Eds,” Richie breathed, voice barely above a whisper as he slowly reached out and pulled back the covers, his large hand ashen and still a little shaky.

“Singer’s choice.”

Eddie’s eyes flickered from his face, to his hand and back again before gently easing himself down into the bed, his back coming to rest against a large, fluffy pillow as Richie pulled the blanket up over his thighs and letting it drop at his waist.  

He could hardly breathe, let alone sing.

Suddenly, he was eleven years old again. Complete with sweaty palms and racing heartbeat. Not much had changed in the last thirty years.  

Sharing a bed with Richie Tozier still felt salacious. Forbidden. Exhilarating. And everything he has ever wanted.

A silence fell over them, but it wasn’t awkward. It was…reflective. As if all those sleepovers were suddenly being recalled all at once. The knobbly knees knocking together under covers, the sugar-induced giggles stifled into pillows, the flashlight under sheets as they shared the latest issue of X-Men.

Secrets whispered into the dark, their noses inches apart.

Each memory silently passed between them as they stared at one another, Richie’s head propped up next to Eddie’s hip, his eyes heavy-lidded but alert.

Along with his brain melting out his ears, Eddie was also hyper aware that Richie’s hand had fallen barely an inch from his, resting on top of the blanket. He couldn’t stop looking at it, the broad arch of his knuckles, the length and width of his fingers, the dusting of light hair that travelled up his wrist.

He should’ve drank a glass of water before attempting this.

Or a bourbon. Or three.

Feeling Richie’s eyes burning a hole into the side of his face, Eddie kept his eyes locked on that hand as he opened his mouth and sang quietly into the room.

“I’d sacrifice anything, come what might, for the sake of having you near.  In spite of a warning voice that comes in the night, and repeats, repeats in my ear, don’t you know little fool, you never can win? Use your mentality, wake up to reality. But each time that I do, just the thought of you makes me stop before I begin. ‘Cause I’ve got you, under…”

~*~

Here’s a teaser for the next instalment. It’ll probably be the last, and will be in Richie’s POV:

“Wouldn’t it be nice if we were older, then we wouldn’t have to wait so long? And wouldn’t it be nice to live together, in the kind of world where we belon—”

“Eds,” Richie cut across him suddenly.

Eddie glanced over from the driver’s seat, lowering down the radio from the steering wheel.

“What?”

Their eyes met.

“…We’re older.”

(Read the entire series here)

#reddie #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #my fanfiction #eddie can sing series #the reddie muses won't let me rest

[zerotexas1975]

lights out (final);

↳ pairing: taehyung x female reader

↳ genre: friends to lovers au | horror | crack | fluff | smut

↳ word count: 4,607

↳ warnings: cursing, unprotected sex (as usual in my stories but please stay safe kids!), a few ridiculous jokes especially about the DC universe so forgive me, oral (male receiving), cum shot, they have sex at a party and that’s that. Smut.

↳ summary: when your apartment is haunted on a Halloween day but not really.

part 1 | part 2 (final) | masterlist

“Tae!” you hissed, “that’s exactly why people die in horror movies.”

His amusement was securely hidden somewhere inside of him and after a small shrug of his shoulder he forced the plain white door of your apartment open, “it’s probably just a rat, Y/N.”

“A rat?” you stop him from going further by yanking him towards your body.

He stared blankly at you, “what? Do you want it to be a demon?”

“I wish it was nothing,” you replied with a wrinkle of your nose and he melted, pinching your cheek.

“Maybe it is nothing,” he assured and you purse your lips, not really making an effort to believe his words.

“Or maybe rats are just fine,” you said quietly, making Taehyung scoff.

He turned around and strode into the living room without the need to make something for you to follow him - your chest almost pressed against his side, clammy hand grasping his tightly.

He felt sorry for a moment but then he remembered of the reason - the real reason, you were here and pushed the feeling away.

The two of you held a nice and unimportant conversation while he drove you to the party when he suddenly asked you about the haunted thing.

You thought for a second before replying, bottom lip stuck under your teeth. But when he elbowed your arm lightly to get your attention with a sweet smile adorning his face you decided it was alright.

If there’s something inside of your apartment or if your are just mad - it doesn’t matter, not really, because Taehyung will be there for you.

And you know you are not willing to go back there - at least not until you find out what is going on, so you know you’d have to stay with him. And with him because you wanted to. So you have to tell him the reason why. The real one. And you do; you tell him everything, trying to reason what happened but not really coming up with anything.

Your voice broke when you told him how scared you were when the lights flickered and everything went dark, and you don’t notice his lips turning downwards nor hear his heart beating erratically when you say the first person you thought as safe haven was him. You were too invested to notice that he almost blew off his own plans just to calm you down.

But soon he felt the ghost of your lips against his own and images of the last night clouded his vision. He didn’t give up then.

He turned to the wrong street, to your neighborhood and shushed you when you asked what the hell was that he was doing.

Now you are inside of the apartment - the one you were convinced is not yours anymore, with your blood running cold through your veins.

Taehyung is ridiculous and you almost hate him for this - because not even as a joke you have the heart to - for being able to convince you that come to see what is going on is okay. It is not.

You see when he reaches his free hand to press the light switch twice.

“Still no electricity.”

“No shit,” you rolled your eyes. Shivers shoot down your body, and you told yourself it was exclusively the heater’s fault. Not because you were scared, no.

You take steps impossibly closer to Tae and with every sound of the hardwood floor under your feet, your heartbeat sounds louder inside your ears.

Just for a second, you believe him. Maybe it is just a rat. It’s more possible than a demon, right?

But then you rewind the events and ask yourself - how is it possible that a rat can do all of this?

And you can’t find an answer.

When the two of you place a step at the corridor, you hear it. A loud thud coming from your room.

“Holy fucking shit,” you snake your arms around his waist, making him groan playfully but hold you back nonetheless. “What was that?”

Since you are facing the door, you miss his cheeky smile when he replies. “You have such a dirty mouth, huh?”

You frown, opening said mouth to give an smart answer when he bend over to nudge his nose into your neck. And your throat is dry.

Another noise comes from the room and you squirm under him, his breath making you shudder when it hits your bare skin. You are wavering between being scared and aroused, and this is making you mad.

What Taehyung thinks he is doing right now?

And why?

When the third sound echoes and he pulls away to complain the interruption - because he knows exactly what is going on, you press your hand against his mouth, “Shhhh.”

You squint your eyes, but it doesn’t do much for your vision.

“Let’s see what is happening,” he pushed you forward after slapping your hand out of the way.

“No!”

“Why not?”

“Do you want to die?” he laughs loudly, startling you. “Why are you laughing, asshole?”

Without time to process what is happening and how suddenly the mood inside the apartment changed, he drags you with him into the dark corridor to open your bedroom door with no mercy. And when it hits the wall, you flinch.

“SURPRISE!”

You frown, confused as you see your friends rising from different spots inside of your room. Your really small room.

They bumped into each other and the Sailor Moon - that you will find out later is no one less than NamJoon, knocks over your night lamp.

“What the fu-“

The room light up, the beep of your refrigerator coming to life resonates somewhere under all of the sounds, and you try to decide how to feel.

All of them - at least the ones who are sober enough to notice, make fun of the face you make. Something between scared, pissed and confused. And the Little Red SeokJin even manages to snap a picture.

With hands full of cups and bottles everyone is dressed to the party, and you don’t understand one of the million things that are happening at the same time.

When the grumpy cat Yoongi complained about the ache on his back after spending all this time crouched down, people started to speak louder and at the same time - somewhere someone plugged their phone into your amplifier, music started playing and everyone moved to spread around.

They passed through you, some leaving a kiss on your cheek or gently patting your head.

“Happy halloween!” Tae shout at your side and reach over to shut your mouth that was hanging open.

“Yay Y/N, happy halloween~” sang the Sailor Moon with his legs tangled in between your bed sheets. He stumbled forward, but recovered quickly with the help of Hoseok - who was dressed as a sunflower, and runs to hug you. “Happy birthday, my sweet friend.”

“You guys took too long,” Hoseok rolled his eyes at NamJoon antics, but he still had a pretty smile on his face. “And it is not her birthday,” he ended, dragging the taller one behind him but not before whispering something to Taehyung that you didn’t catch.

He closed the door behind him, the sound of the party muffled, and with your arms crossed against your chest you turn to look at Taehyung who carries a sheepish smile on his lips.

“We took too long?” you asked with a perfect made eyebrow raised.

“Surprise?” he looks at you innocently, but you are already hitting him with your bat mask. “Ouch, Y/N, had no idea you were this kinky,” he half laughed when you straddled his waist when he purposely fell on the bed to protect himself, arms in front of his face before he decided to hold your wrists. “Stop!” he begged, but you kept wriggling to move away from his touch and to hit him.

“What is going on?” you asked, huffing and quieting down on his stomach. He moved uncomfortably under you, but didn’t want to acknowledge the reason why. “I told you that we couldn’t do the party at my place and…”

You trailed off. And now the party is going on. At your place.

You talked to him about how it was not possible. To host a party inside of your apartment, that is. Because while your neighbors can be nice people and will put up with a small reunion here and there, they will not stand your loud ass friends getting drunk and being loud. And by loud, you mean Loud.

And you are not really mad, but still. He did it even when you told him not to, behind your back. Why?

You stiff suddenly and he tilt his head to the side, moving his hand to clutch your waist and caress you. “What?”

“What about the demon?” you whispered, lowering your upper body, face inches away from Tae’s. “I read somewhere that if you are under some substance it is easier for them to possess you, like you are more vulnerable or something.”

His breath hitched at the proximity and he watches the way your mouth moves while you speak. When he didn’t reply, you grasped his shoulder to have him.

You mean, have his attention.

Yes.

“Don’t you get it?” he whispered back, slipping his hand from your waist to your back to hold you still. “I did that.”

“Did what?” You asked puzzled.

And hold you he did when you tried to jerk away from his touch when you realized. “Kim Taehyung, you mother fu-“

“Let me explain, please,” he hugged you, pressing his cheek on your chest and trying not to think about the way your body molded into his. He calmed you like he would do to a child, and surprisingly it made you stay still and panting on top of him, making all the blood from his head move. From his head to somewhere else.

“You have one second,” you played and he smiled.

You can’t be angry at him.

And the two of you are crazy because of that.

Taehyung nudge you with his chin and you free yourself to look at him.

How he managed to be this blind?

He observes you.

From the way you brush your hair away from your face, to the curve of your jaw and how your tinted lips are pressed together.

His heart is constricting painfully and he hold onto that feeling strangely.

“I know it is stupid,” he started, and you mimicked the way he tilted his head to the side earlier, “but I did this because…”

“Because?” you encouraged him to go on when he averted his eyes from yours with embarrassment.

“Because I love you!” he burst out, honeyed cheeks tinting a nice cherry color.

“You what?” you asked with widened eyes.

“I love you,” he said softly this time, smiling without flashing his teeth and looking back at you. Your hand that found support on his chest felt the thuds of his heart that was beating rhythmically to yours.

The music outside no more was muffled by the closed door because they turned it up. It doesn’t matter though, all that you could hear was Taehyung’s voice.

“And I know you love me too,” he took the opportunity to say it when you kept silent, but you questioned him with your eyes. How? “I know that because you told me this yesterday. You kissed me at the nightclub then you kissed me good night, Y/N,” he breathed. ”And then you told me you love me. I knew you were too drunk to remember, and I was relieved for a second. I thought you didn’t mean that, at least not in a romantic way,” he sighed and your eyes flashed hurt. It doesn’t make any sense. Why would that be a relief?

He reach his hand to smooth away the worry lines that formed between your eyebrows with his thumb. He continued, “but then Hoseok called me an idiot. And he had Jungkook and Jimin at my house to tell me the same thing - they called the two of us idiots because we never realized we were in love with each other, but we are.”

He ended with a laugh of disbelief and the corner of your lips turned upwards. “We are?” you tried to tease, but you were still kinda numb hearing that.

Because you know you are. It’s been a while now. And it was not the first time your friends would call one of you out, no. But the first time Taehyung saw it with his own eyes - he finally believed in the love you felt for him, the same he felt for you. At least when told. He won’t think about that for too long - he’s still slightly unsure about this. Not his feelings, but yours. If he put too much thought into it, he will think he’s just fooling himself and that he’s friends are the blind ones. So he replies instead.

“I can see it now,” he beamed proudly. “I see it in the way you are looking at me, Y/N. It’s the same way I look at you, isn’t it?” he repeats what his friends told him, hint of hope dripping from his eyes.

You nodded, smoothing his hair lovingly with your fingers. You pecked his nose and he smiled even brightly, almost making you forget about the party and everything else he did with the help of your friends. Almost.

“Did you really had to do it all though? Scare the shit out of me?”

“I didn’t,” he shrugged and you giggled, he was forgiven. “But Jungkook convinced me, for the Halloween spirit.”

You groan, letting your body fall limp next to his, “Fucking brat.”

“Ah, that mouth,” he groans, turning to cage you with his body on top of yours, “keep talking dirty to me.”

“Shut up,” you laughed, sticking your tongue out to wet your lips.

Your smile faded slowly to the way he watched you, darkened gaze following the movement of your tongue.

“Can I kiss you?”

He lets loose a grin far from the sweet you are used to see, ducking his head to brush his nose against yours. You can’t find strength to do more than nod and move your arms around his neck to pull him closer.

He smiles and teases you first, nudging your mouth with his before you whine and he is forcing his lips against yours - and the party doesn’t exist anymore, it’s just you and Taehyung inside of your room. In your Batman and Joker fantasies.

You laugh between kisses and he pulls away to look at you with both amusement and fondness, “what is it?”

“This is kinky, Tae,” you tugged his purple suit, “did you have this planned too?”

“I didn’t,” he pouted and you bite your own lips at the sight, “but that’s actually pretty hot, don’t you think?”

You snort, “not really.”

“I can make it,” he promised, suddenly grinding his hips against yours.

“What?” you gasped.

Taehyung slips one hand along your jaw and stop to hold the back of your neck, pulling at your hair lightly. “I can make it hot,” he breathed behind your ear where he left a tenderly kiss. Your body shudders under his.

You feel lost and overwhelmed - but only in the better sense of these two words, especially when his mouth find yours again to kiss you deeply and with passion. You don’t want to think about how this turned from your house being haunted to a confession and then to this. Really, you are just glad it all turned out so well and that Taehyung’s lips couldn’t taste any better.

You moan when he pushes his body against yours once more. He loses it.

His free hand travel from your waist to disappear under the skirt of your dress, slender fingers tugging the waistband of your panties.

“Tae, our friends,” you murmured against his mouth.

He dismissed it with a groan, but you pulled a strand of his hair.

He sighed, focused on kissing your jaw and leaving a wet trail behind. “Hobi won’t let anyone come in, he promised.”

“Hobi?” you click your tongue with the thought of Hoseok knowing exactly what the two of you were about to do and shove Tae playfully by the shoulder. He doesn’t move. “So you did have this all planned?”

“I told you they wanted to help,” he replied against your neck and you sink your nails on his shoulder. Taehyung pulled away to look at you. “I probably owe him something now,” he finished with a shrug.

You notice the green stains you left on his suit after playing with his tinted hair. You scrunch your nose upon seeing it, and he follows what you see - devilish smile making a show after that.

“We should take this off,” that’s what he says before diving into your neck again, nibbling at the sensitive skin and somehow tossing the suit away, green shirt following right next.

“I-I’m not done talking with you,” you stuttered, breath hitching when he laughed close to your ear.

“It’s okay, keep talking,” he breathed, suddenly stopping on top of you and going stiff.

“Tae?” you called quietly, eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

He dropped his head to hide his face on the crook of your neck. “Are you sure you want me?”

He asked just as quietly, and you moved under him in a way to cup both of his cheeks in your hands and force him to look at you.

“Why this out of nowhere?” you asked with a small smile.

“What if-“ he started, moving his eyes to look anywhere but your face, “what if we do this and you decide you were wrong? That this is not what you want? And if we are going too fast and-”

“I do want you, Tae,” you promised, tracing your fingers over his cheek. “I want us, too. I want this,” you continued, slowly pulling him closer to your face until your noses touched and he would have no choice now but look at you. “I wanted this for so long, how could I not? You are amazing, Taehyung. You know it right?”

“I’m sorry,” he sighed. “It’s just so unreal for me to have you here like this, I guess I’m just scared. I just wanted to be sure.”

“It’s okay to be scared,” you pointed, kissing his jaw, “but I promise you I won’t go anywhere,” and then you kiss his neck, hands sliding down to undo his belt. “And that I’m very real…” you trailed off while unzipping the fastener with easy, “if you want to do it-“

Taehyung reaches for you, kissing your mouth and replying against your lips, “I do.”

“Good.”

Cool air brushed his naked body while you helped him take off his pants and boxer shorts - you felt his hand sneaks its way to your thighs once again and you arched your back when he tugged your dress to take it off as well, muttering something about how it was only fair.

Taehyung hangs over you, arms on each side of your body and you sneak one glance at his hard length.

His dick is long and thick, and you are almost as desperate to touch him as he is to feel you around himself.

You reach your hand to place it at his stomach, and when he looks at you in confusion you only give him back a sly smirk. You press your hand against him and he obliges, laying down so you can change positions, looking inside of his eyes one more time - so he can see how sure of this you are and how sure he is. You find what you were looking for - behind his lust filled eyes you see love, your best friend Taehyung.

You part your lips so you can taste him.

And Taehyung tastes good.

You watch as he close his eyes, a loud groan leaving his lips the second you swirl your tongue around his tip while one hand work on his shaft, pressing and moving up and down.

You massage his thigh with one hand, feeling the muscles tense as he tries to hold himself and not buck his hips against your mouth, but he does tangles his fingers around your hair and you reward him by going further.

“Y/N-“ he started and you hummed, sending vibrations throughout his whole body.

You hear Taehyung’s moans and you are so glad your walls aren’t that thin - you’d be so mad if you couldn’t hear that sound.

“This f-feels so good,” he struggled with the words and you took him out of your mouth to hear what he had to say, still working your hand along his length. “Your mouth feels so good, I-“

You kissed his wet tip and he whined, pulling your hair. You chuckle, seeing as Taehyung’s body shudder as your breath reach him.

“You what?”

“I bet-“ he wet his lips, prompting his body on his elbows and looking straight into your eyes. The heat that spreads through your core have you pressing your thighs against each other and he cocks one eyebrow at you - not looking as wrecked as he did just one second ago when you had his dick inside of your mouth. “I bet it will feel even better when I’m inside of you.”

And suddenly he is reaching his large hand, grasping you by the arm and sitting you on his thigh. You can feel the warmth of his cock emanating close to your own heat and you eye him eagerly, waiting for instructions - which also doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

“Aren’t you going to take off your panties?” he asked teasingly after eyeing you down and you nod with vigor, holding his hand he offered you so you could take it off.

You do it, tossing it somewhere behind you.

“And what about this?” He traced the strap of your bra and you took it off as well, sitting now naked on his thigh.

He rested his arms on his sides and traveled his eyes through your body - you felt the blood rush all the way to your face and you hide your chest with your arms, watching his lips turn into a pout, head tilted to the side. “Don’t hide yourself,” he asked sweetly, “you just look so beautiful, don’t hide yourself from me.”

Taehyung held both of your arms, uncovering you. He presses your palms against his own chest then hold you by the waist, “I really want to be inside of you right now,” he said, pulling you closer, you lock eyes with him. “You said you wanted it too, didn’t you?” you nod, breath stuck inside your throat. “So why don’t you do it?”

You nod again, feeling a little dizzy.

Why does he have to look at you like this? You feel your legs weak and you didn’t do anything yet.

You position yourself and Taehyung grit his teeths the second you let your body sink, wet folds welcoming his hard length. He hold you still, fingers sinking into your skin. The two of you wait, adjusting to the feeling when he finally nudges you, asking you to move.

You moan - both of pleasure and relief when the ache between your legs reduce, and you start bouncing up and down. Taehyung’s moans joined yours, making you clench around him at the sound and he hisses. “I won’t last long if you keep doing that,”

But you don’t mind. You clench around him again when you see his face twist in even more pleasure as sweat glitter his golden skin. The paint of his hair and face stain both of your skins - and it’s all sticky, messy and hot. And you don’t mind that either.

Lowering your body, you kiss his lips open mouthed. He moans against you, bucking his hips up and holding you tighter.

He wanted to tip his head back and moan louder, he wanted you to know how good you were making him feel - but the sight of you fucking yourself into his cock held him in his place, eyes glued on your face.

Your thighs almost gave up when you felt a wave of pleasure run along your body, tightening itself right under your stomach - you meowed Taehyung’s name and he knew you were close, so close to cum all over his cock. He moved to fuck you faster, harder, and you drawn one long moan before releasing yourself over him, panting hard, but you kept on moving - because you wanted to see him cum too.

You ignored how sensitive you felt and clenched around him, trying to help him on his orgasm - he said he was close, or he tried to (from what you caught between his moans) when he held you and asked you to stop. You looked at him confused.

“Where can I cum?” he asked, pushing your shoulder, still inside of you, until you were laying on your back.

Oh.

“Wherever you want to,” you replied, smart smile. He grunted, thrusting deep inside of you and making you scream.

Taehyung then kept this pace before pulling out and you whined when he did so. He stroked himself, eyes aimed at your center - he jerked his fists over the head of his cock before releasing himself on your stomach and breast. It felt warm and thick, and you savored the image in front of you.

“Wow,” he said after a while, dropping his body at your side then rolling off the bed.

“Wow indeed,” you hummed, thinking about what just happened and staring at the ceiling when you felt something wet on your chest.

“Sorry about that,” Taehyung said with his shirt in hand while cleaning your body carefully.

“S’ okay,” you replied quietly, content with the small gesture.

After he finishes, he tosses the shirt away - to the pile the two of you unintentionally made of clothes, and stretches his body next to yours before turning to face you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer, “you look like The Batman Who Laughs,” he pointed out after a moment of just looking at you.

You roll your eyes, playfully slapping him in he chest, “how romantic.”

He reaches to brush off the smudged makeup on the corner of your lips, chin and cheeks, the content smile mirrored on his face while he does so. “We are still looking good,” he rewind the conversation the two of you had at his house earlier today in front of the mirror.

You hide your face in the crook of his neck so he can’t see your smile - but you are sure he can feel how hard your heart is beating right now.

You were about to answer, lips brushing against the skin of his neck when you flinch by the sound of breaking glass outside of your room followed by the boo of your friends. You sigh before replying, “we do.” And you sense when he smiles at you. “But you are cleaning my apartment tomorrow all on your own.”

Taehyung’s groan fills your ears and you suppress your laugh - gasping in surprise with the sudden feeling of his lips against yours after he pulled away from you. “Then I better use the time I have with you right now.”

And you know you will use yours to keep proving him you want this just as much as you did before.

A/N: Feedback is appreciated! Please let me know what you think about this, it’s important <3

#btssmutclub #kwritersworldnet #taehyung smut #bts smut #taehyung x reader #bts x reader #taehyung fanfic #bts fanfic

[all-hail-the-witcher]

save your strength and stay alive

so so so

today is,,,fizz’s birthday !!!

yeah my two internet friends have birthdays one day apart what were the heckin odds

anyway so forever ago I wrote this au where Albert was this weird low key villain and now heres part three

part 1

part 2

_____

ship: I honestly dont even know, failed ralbert, platonic sprace ??

genre: the phattest angst

warnings: character death, car accidents, bleeding, lots of blood, abuse mentions, sex mentions, mentions of low key cheating, sorta panic attack, major guilt, sad stuff, rain, thunder storms, cursing, be careful kids

editing: m e h

words: 2030

_____

Spot squinted into the rain, flinching every time a boom of thunder banged in the sky above him. The wind was howling, almost drowning out the pounding of his heart that sounded in his ears with every breath. The dirt road was thick with mud and he knew that he could get stuck at any moment.

But getting stuck wasn’t an option. He had to find Race.

Hopefully there was still a Race left to find.

The rain was coming down in sheets so thick that even with his headlights on high he could hardly see a foot in front of the car. It didn’t help that he was on one of the back roads of the Blue Ridge Mountains and was, hence, surrounded by trees.

But, this was Race’s thinking spot. There was a clearing about another mile or so down this road that Race would go to when he was overwhelmed and needed to clear his head. Spot couldn’t imagine that there was any other place he could have gone, but he had made Romeo stay at home just in case Race decided to come back.

“Fucking hell,” Spot cursed as a crack of lightning pierced the sky. He hated the thought of Race being out in this weather: alone, miserable, and suffering. They wouldn’t even be in this predicament if it weren’t for Albert Fucking DaSilva.

Spot still couldn’t believe that Albert had intentionally hit Race. It didn’t matter what someone’s past was, any person should have the decency and the sense alone not to hit someone.

And then there was the fact that he had made out with someone mere minutes after hooking up with Race. Spot understood that one night stands came with their own set of rules and were not for those, like himself, who had standards, but it seemed odd to him that Albert had decided to make out with Finch when Race was standing in the same room and then have the audacity to ask for a round two.

But then again, what did his virgin ass know?

The bottom line still remained though: Albert had hurt Race worse than anyone had in years, and, once Spot found Race, they were not allowed near each other again. There was no one in the entire world that Spot cared about more than Race and Romeo. At this point the both of them practically lived with Spot and his mom since Race’s dad was never around and when he was he was always drunk and both of Romeo’s parents spent weeks on end in DC where they worked with the Secret Service.

The three of them had grown up together and vowed to always protect each other. He and Race had wreaked havoc on a few of Romeo’s particularly nasty exes. Spot was certain that he and Romeo would be doing the same to Albert. No one messed with their family.

There was a piercing BOOM! and Spot jumped, losing control of the wheel for a second. His tires slid across the slick mud and he struggled to regain control of the car.

“Fuck come on!” Spot tensed his arm muscles as he turned the wheel as hard as he could into the skid. His foot fumbled for the brake pedal and he put all his weight into slamming it into the ground. He held his breath, waiting for the car to stop and hopefully not skid into the tree line, but, just when he thought he was safe, he felt his car smack into something very, very solid.

Spot’s eyes flew open - when had he closed them? - and was met with the sight of the bed of Race’s unmistakably totaled pickup truck smashed into the front of his car.

For one second Spot sat paralyzed with fear, a million scenarios running through his head: he had just killed his best friend, no, Race wasn’t in the car, no he had to be in the car, but, since he had hit the bed of his truck maybe he was okay, Spot’s airbag hadn’t gone off so maybe it wasn’t that bad but he could be bleeding out or dead or dying or severely injured or dead he could be dead he could be dead what the hell was he doing he could have just killed his best friend-

Spot wrestled with his seatbelt and pushed open his door, not even feeling the rain as it soaked him through. The drivers door of Race’s car was smashed in -which later Spot would realize meant that the accident was not his fault because he had hit the bed of the truck, not the side- and after struggling with the handle for a minute Spot gave up and went around the passenger’s side. Thankfully, the door was fully intact on this side and Spot pulled it open.

The first thing he registered was Race leaning against the wrecked drivers side door and he breathed a deep sigh of relief. Then he saw the blood.

It was everywhere. On the seats, the door, the dashboard, the floor the shards of broken glass, and Race’s clothes, face and hair. Spot had never seen so much blood.

He pulled out his phone, praying that there was service out here in the middle of nowhere in a rainstorm, and dialed 911 - better to do that now than when he was choked up and overwhelmed by his actions later.

Then he ducked into the passenger seat and pulled the door shut behind him. If he was going to die, he might as well be a little less soaked.

“Race?” Spot called over the rain. “You with me?”

There was no response.

Spot’s stomach clenched and he scooted closer, extremely mindful of the broken glass scattered around him. He reached out to touch Race’s shoulder, but stopped short when he remembered the earlier interaction with Albert.

“Fucking DaSilva,” Spot muttered, opting to instead lean closer to his best friend. “Antonio,” he said firmly. “Can you hear me?”

Please respond, please respond, please respondpleaserespondpleasepleaseplease-

“S-sean?”

And just like that, everything was okay again.

“Yeah, I’m here, it’s okay.” Spot tried to sound soothing despite his nerves and the terrible looming thought that he was the one responsible for the accident. But, he needed to hear it from Race. “What happened kid?”

“Seanie, you’re-” Race coughed painfully and Spot winced, “uh, bleein’. Wha’ ‘appened?’”

“What?” Spot was confused and looked down at himself briefly before remembering that he was not the primary concern. “That doesn’t matter right now, kid. Can you tell me what hurts?”

“M’ ‘ead,” Race mumbled, closing his eyes again. “An’ m’ leg is stuck.”

“Okay.” Spot surveyed the wreck and saw that Race’s left leg was, in fact, pinned between the seat and the crushed door. Spot then noticed with alarm that there was a bloody stain on both the driver’s window and the steering wheel that matched with the injuries on Race’s head. At first, Spot wondered why the airbags hadn’t gone off, but then he remembered that Race had taken his airbags out to replace them with better ones because when he had bought his truck there had been a recall on them, but had never gotten around to it.

Spot put his head in his hands. He had insisted that Race reinstall the airbags in his truck, but clearly he hadn’t tried hard enough. Maybe if he had tried harder this wouldn’t have happened. Like maybe if he hadn’t agreed to let Race go to that party he wouldn’t be bleeding out right now. Maybe if he had just put in a little more effort, cared a little more this wouldn’t have-

“S’potti’?” Race’s weak voice pierced through Spot’s thoughts. “Wha’s wron’?”

There were so many things he could have said. I’m sorry I let Albert hit you? I’m sorry I let you go to that party? I’m sorry I didn’t force you to put those new fucking aribags in your truck? I’m sorry we’re sitting here right now? But Spot instead blurted out: “I’m sorry I hit your truck and hurt you like this, I skidded on some mud and it was dark and raining, and I didn’t see you until after I had already hit you and I’m just-I’m so sorry Tony.”

“‘ean, no, i’ wasn’ you- i-” Race’s words started to run together more, but there was a firmness behind them. “I’ wasn’ you. I’ ‘as som’ guy, he ‘it me ‘n drove away, an’ I go’ pushed int’ ‘he door, ‘n then a few mi’ut’s ago somethin’ ‘it th’ back o’ my truck ‘n my ‘ead jus’ bump’d th’ ‘teerin’ wheel, ‘n-”

“That was me Tony,” Spot whispered, cutting him off. “I hit the back of your car. God, I’m so sorry I really didn’t mean to, you must be in so much pain, I-”

“No, no,” Race mumbled. “‘topp’d bein’ able t’ feel mucha anytin’ afta th’ firs’ few minutes o’ so.”

This comment did absolutely nothing to calm Spot’s fears.

“‘re you okay tho’?” Race asked, cracking open his eyes again to look at Spot. “‘f your ‘urt you needa take care’o yourself.”

“No, I’m fine kid. Don’t worry about me. The ambulance should be here for you soon anyhow and if they decide I need help, I’ll let them help me.”

Race shot him a sideways look that almost made Spot laugh before his eyes fluttered shut again. For a few painful seconds the silence between them was filled by just the rain pounding on the roof.

“I wish I never let you go to that party,” Spot whispered, toeing at the worn carpet with his boots. “Then none of this would have happened.”

“Don’ be sorry,” Race muttered, barely audible over the rain. “‘s betta this way. I was neva gonna ge’ betta anyway ‘n I was gonna de’troy m’self at somepoin’, betta now than latah, ya know? I’ve fough’ so ‘ard already anyway. There’s no poin’. Least I gotta ‘ave sex wit’ a hot guy on’ las’ time befo’ I died.”

Spot’s head snapped up. Why was Race acting so self destructive? He had probably just had a panic attack and that combined with whatever injuries he had sustained had sucked the last bit of energy out of him. Spot knew that that wasn’t good, Race always gave up in some sense after a panic attack, and he couldn;t have him doing that now, especially not now. He needed Race to keep breathing and survive this.  

“Tony? No, hey, I need you, a lot of people need you, and you're gonna be fine anyway. The ambulance is gonna be here soon and they’re going to help you. It’s all going to be okay. Save your strength, okay?” Most of those words were for Spot’s own sake. He knew it was a very real possibility that Race would not make it, and Race’s own calmness toward the situation was not helping. Whenever Race had previously been injured, he had been freaking out and his state of calm was only adding to Spot’s nerves.

“Sean,” There was a sadness to Race’s voice that Spot had never heard before, “Everythin’s not goin’ t’ be okay, ‘n tha’s alrigh’. You’ll be fine, Ro will be fine, ‘s gonna be okay. I’ve ‘ad som’ time t’ think abou’ it. Jus’ know ‘s not your faul’ alrigh’?”

“Antonio, no, stop that,” Spot felt tears spring up behind his eyes. This was it, he was losing his best friend, and there was nothing he could do about it. What did you say to someone who had already accepted their death? What were you supposed to say? Did it even matter anymore?

“‘s okay Sean,” Race whispered. “I-” He coughed again and Spot felt his heart clench. “I love you.”

“I love you too, kid,” Spot whispered.

“‘ell Ro I lov’ ‘im too.”

“I will,” Spot promised. “I promise.”

“Thank you fir everythin’,” Race struggled to keep his eyes open. “I couldn’ ‘ave ask’d fir a betta frien’.”

“Of course Antonio,” Spot whispered, watching powerlessly as Race’s eyes fell shut and didn’t open again. “Of course.”

_____

and thats that

there will be one more installment and hopefully you wont have to wait 6 months oops

hbd fizz

feedback is always appreciated hmu to be on the taglist

tag list

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@well-the-kids-do-too

@racetrackcook

@ughwaitwhat

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@ridin-in-style

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#saphie scribbles #ralbert #sprace #oof #this ones rough #newsies #fic #all the angst #im sorry #newsies fic #Albert dasilva #racetrack higgins #spot conlon

[harveywritings92]

Bad Wolf: Werewolf! Jason Todd x reader ch 2

The following is a non profit fan based story Batman, Red hood, Nightwing etc. belongs to DC Comics please support the official release.

_

I gain no profit from this nor do I own anything other then OCs  and whatever sprouts from my imagination. Thanks for reading!

It had been a month since whole Red-hood thing the h/c hadn't seen hide nor hair of the vigilante since, Currently Y/n was sitting on her buildings roof looking through the job section of the paper, She grumbled to herself nibbling on the back of her pen as before scribbling down a number. 

"How goes the job hunt, Love?" the Irish voice of Riley her uncle's old secretary before he died, one wouldn't notice by looking at him, but the brown haired Irishman was actually 64 years old! Yet, barely looked a day over 25, Vampires always youthful folk aren't they? something to be envious of...

"Not good so far..." The only up side about working at that hellhole was no one ever asked for a high-school diploma or a degree, it might as well have been an over paying call center. "think I should start going to actual school." She hummed frowning as she scratched out another option, The vampire snorted at hearing that. 

"Oh? And who woulds the young lass be paying for said schooling?" The h/c sucked her teeth she hadn't thought of that! her rent for next month will be payed on fumes and her food was running low...She was in the dog house if she didn't find work soon!

Riley watched the cogs turn in Y/n's head she was bloody lost! there was only one way to help the e/c girl out of this rut and Y/n hated that idea, she tried so hard to put that life behind her. Helping Red Hood was the crucible that set the fragile house of cards she had built up ever so carefully crashing down on her and Riley knew this, Riley knows everything.

"Well, if you're really that strapped for cash...I might hav-"

"No..." Y/n did't even look up from her paper, Riley pouted.

"Aw, c'mon love a least hear me out, it pays 5,000 cash up front."

"...ah, Alright what's the job?"

The h/c sighed as the brown haired vamp smirked smugly as the girl got up from the ledge and followed him down the fire escape, not noticing the tall figure watching from the building across the road. "By the way did one of your neighbors get a dog?" Riley asked looking around her apartment confused as he sniffed the air. "No, this building doesn't allow pets." the vamp frowned looking very unnerved "...It's faint but, your place smells like wet dog."

The h/c was lost on that, as she got change into her 'work' clothes impressed they still fit. " That's probably Pretzel's tears you're smelling, his mommy was squeezing him pretty hard." She heard the vamp chuckle as she came out of the bedroom pulling on the white trench coat, "So, gimme the details what am I looking at?" A drive and drop Y/n sighed Riley wouldn't say who hired her, but they needed person A to destination B and it needed to be done tonight.

The h/c pulled the surgical mask on looked around the alley, before ducking behind a wall when a cop car drove by, her brows furrowed as she reached the garage to see the car was waiting. 

She walked in and e/c was greeted by gun barrel to the face and nervous man behind the trigger. "Unless you got an invitation I suggest you turn around right now..." he growled as Y/n just wave him off, "Easy there, I'm your driver for tonight." the man swallowed lowered the gun and unlocked the car door.

"Please tell you got another set of wheels, this ones shot to hell!" He cautiously looked out the back window then ducked when a zeppelin searchlight shined in through the garage window. "Nope, your car. my rules. that was the deal." the man cussed under his breath as the h/c girl got in the driver seat. 

"Now shut up and duck when I tell you." She ordered as the guy laid down in the backseat. it was a tense drive for Y/n she was held her breath as she turned down an alley and killed the engine, she watched as another cruiser passed by and quickly start up the the car.

and drove across the street into a underground parking Garage before emerging on the other side of the block and gunned towards the docks, when she pulled into the dark warehouse Y/n felt her stomach drop when she saw two of Black-mask's men waiting. The h/c was silent as the man in the back thanked her for dropping him off and said they should get a drink sometime.

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat as the guy got out. Y/n felt her heart her slam against her rib-cage as she watched the three talk, the drop off handed one of the men a USB drive, not noticing how the first guy nodded at his much taller friend. the h/c felt er breath hitch when the tall Black-mask thug pulled a knife out grabbed the guy behind while he was distracted with the other man and slit his throat.

She watched the drop offs body fall to the ground, and then the two men looked at her, the one who was given the USB pulled a gun out aiming at the e/c girl. 

Y/n felt her heart sink, But the oddest thing happened... the guy aiming the gun at her must have gotten a call on his ear piece, he looked at his feet then lowered the gun and nodded at her leave.

The h/c didn't hesitate she backed up the car and got the fuck out of the docks after 15 minutes of driving she turned into a junk yard. and just sat down to breathe "What the fuck...?" She croaked still trying to understand what just happened, Why didn't they kill her? She just saw them ice someone!? 

why the fuck did they let her go? after a few minutes of panicking and running through every possibility in her head. Y/n was lost and just accepted the fact that she did a good job and look the type to keep her mouth shut. (which she was.) But even that seemed too far fetch'd.

The h/c girl got out of the car walked up to the crane, Riley said his friend left the keys for her, she hummed finding them on the treads and got in the cab and started the demolition process, she picked up the car and dropped it in the crusher and watched the flattened heap of metal be rolled out into an incinerator. then she shut everything down and began her trek home.

Stupid especially at this time of night in a remote area, but anyone in Gotham knows that thieves and creatures no matter the variety usually stick to the alleys, bars or the Rose corner, [Monster district.]

 if they did go this out far they were usually to bust someone out of Arkham or Black-gate and those were miles away from the scrap-yard, the likelihood of her running into escaped inmates or patients was still high, but when has that ever happened? Well, the universe decided Y/n was gonna be it's bitch today!

While she was walking on the shoulder of the road the h/c felt a chill go down her spine, she whipped her head around her eyes surveyed the darkness, silence ans stillness greeted Y/n was sure she heard something, and whatever it was. 

is watching her... then she heard it the whistling in the trees, the h/c mouth felt dry there was no wind, whatever was hunting her was trying to fool her into thinking it was the wind making the noise.

The pattern was too interval and candid to be natural...And it was getting closer! She remembered her uncle had a safe bunker he used to spy on the prison and asylum, It was hidden in the woods she knew where ...if she can get to it, she'll be safe. Y/n slowly backed up towards the edge of the field careful with her movements, when her boots hit dirt instead asphalt she broke into a run.

The thing hunting her was hot on her trail, Y/n could hear it screeching behind her. she could hear it jumping from the trees at alarming speed something hit her shoulder, hard. causing Y/n to lurch forwards and roll several times before crashing painfully into a tree! 

The h/c girl struggled to breathe as the wind was knocked out of her; she felt sharp rocks dug into her back and her head was spinning, pain bloomed in the back of her skull blurring her vision as the h/c looked to see what hit her.

She felt her stomach curdle when the emancipated body and freakishly elongated limbs of a Wendigo came into view, What the hell was it doing so close to Gotham? 

Don't they usually avoid large cities!?...Y/n stood stock still as it looked around the clearing for her, It's common knowledge that Wendigos have motion blindness. She should be save if she stood still...

Then she realized it was getting closer to her, confused Y/n very slowly shrank back only to feel a sharp stabbing pain in her left shoulder and something wet and sticky flowed down her back. The e/c didn't need to check to know it was blood the wendigo could smell it. 

and she was gonna die here eaten by cannibalistic monster, she looked up at the monster looming over her, it's bloody maw stretched almost as if it was smiling, before leaning into her face and screaming. Y/n grimaced from the smell of rot on it's breath. "I am soo gonna haunt Riley for this..." she thought waiting for the thing to kill her...Then she heard a twig snap.

It all happened fast one second the Wendigo was in her face the next, Something tore it away from Y/n and whatever that something was...was big, furry and mad...the h/c though it was wolf at first from the growls and snarls, but wolves aren't almost 8ft tall and stand on their hind legs...or wear Tactical pants! 

Y/n watched the two monsters fight it out, the wendigo swiped it's claws at the new monster who managed to dodge and duck it's strikes in almost showboating manner.

The wendigo didn't like that, it didn't like that it was interrupted by this intruder or that it's prey was being kept from it, they screeched and lunged for Y/n only for the wolfman to snarl grab the wendigo's leg in his large hands and started swinging and slamming it's body into trees,rocks and the ground like it was a pillow. Y/n flinched hearing the monster's bones crack and thought she saw a few teeth fly out of it's mouth.

The wolfman started spin and threw the wendigo up against a tree finally letting go of it's very broken leg. it screeched up at black furred monster who in turned forced it's hands into it's screaming maw and started to pry it open wider...And wider, till finally the werewolf tore the Windego's jaw right off...he dropped the monster's body to the ground threw his head back and howled.

That the last thing Y/n saw before passing out, when she woke up the e/c was temporarily blinded bright light it took her a moment for her to realize it was the sun shining over the trees, The h/c blinked a few and looked around she was in a campsite laying on a foam pad, and noticed she had a familiar leather jacket draped over her, it's faded red bat symbol made it clear who it belonged to...

she looked around for it's owner and saw Jason a few feet away cleaning a gun and glaring down at his feet, she went to lift herself up but hissed in pain, his green eyes met hers and immediately Y/n could see anger, suspicion, relief and fear in the almost glowing orbs. he put the gun down and walked over to her crouched down. 

"How are you feeling?"

"like I got run over by Semi..."

"Yeah I figured, stay down I didn't patch you up just to redo it all over again."

"Not to shabby Red..How badly was I hurt?"

Jason looked uncomfortable "You don't want to know." he huffed pushing her back down on to the mat, Y/n looked around started noticing the tiny details she missed, she saw a water bucket with a bloody cloths hanging out of it, her bloodied jacket was hanging off a wire along with her ruined shirt and muddy pants a few feet away, 

she winced and  looked under Jason's jacket she looked like a mummy in skull and crossbones panties. She heard Jason cough and looked up at him, as he glared at her tiredly "So..what I'd like to know is how the hell an office chick got mixed up with black mask?" Y/n arched a brow.

"I don't know Jay, how does random one off, turn out to be a werewolf?" She jeered the vigilante let out a sharp breath. "Answer my question..and I might tell you." he growled keeping his eyes trained on her. 

"I don't know, a guy who used pick up jobs for my uncle, Hired me out to someone...never said who." She sighed glaring up at the sky thinking about how she was gonna get Riley back."But, of course you know this because you were following me."

the h/c watched his jaw set unsure if he should believe her or not, after all they let her leave that warehouse without a bullet between her eyes. "I don't know why they let me go either, if that what you're worried about..." Jason eye twitched she didn't smell nervous or agitated...She seemed to be telling truth, but that didn't put his suspicions at rest. 

Black Mask spared Y/n and he was gonna find out why...He brought out by his thoughts by Y/n who looked up at him expectantly, He had some explaining to do...

Jason told her about how he used to be Robin, how the joker killed him and a group of assassins brought him back via a Lazarus pit, But not before injecting his body with lycanthropy venom to give him a little more bite to his bark, what they hadn't expected was for Jason to go feral and AWOL,

 When he finally got back to his senses he traveled the world for while, learning different skills and deadly tactics he bided his time planning and eventually returned to Gotham after five years...to get revenge on Joker and Batman. In the end things didn't play out like he had pictured it... And now He patrols and keeps the gangs in check.

"That bullet I pulled out of you when we met, It was silver shouldn't that have killed you?" Jason snorted as that was the question a select few that knew about him always asked."That's just Hollywood bullshit, like just how crosses and sunlight doesn't do jack-shit to those damn leeches, anything could kill me." 

He spat annoyed having to compare him to those snooty vamps, Y/n frowned judging by Jason's tone he must've had a bad run in vampires at some point. She gets that, Riley scared the hell out of her when she was younger [still does.], the way he was able to sneak up on her, the few times she's walked in on him with a Scarlet* who was nearly drained. And the blood-rages those were the worst...

She wondered if Jason was subjected to that too."We should probably get you to that place you were looking for last night.." Said man interrupted her thoughts "How did you." he cocked brow...right giant dog, he could smell a steak cooking forty miles away and tell her in it was over done or not. "It's faint..but, you still go there sometimes." He said helping her sit up being careful not to agitate the cuts on her back.

Jason helped readjusted his jacket on the y/h girl it was fricken huge on Y/n stopping above{passed} her knees the tips of his ears turned red as he watched the way it framed her breasts as she zip it up. He swallowed a got to cleaning the campsite while mentally berating himself. 

*that was one time thing!...and even if it wasn't she too hurt for it.* he took a sharp breath dumping the bloody water in the bucket over the fire pit and tossed her bloody clothes into garbage bag and left them in the back of his jeep, Jason would occasionally shoot daggers at Y/n if she tried helping him. He let put her boots on after she was insistent that she wasn't gonna burst into flames for tying a shoelace!

Jason backed off and gave her space, Last night He actually hadn't planned on seeing Y/n, he was originally was headed out here to wait out his transformation, But he then had the sudden urge to check in on the h/c girl, he heard conversation on her roof, It irritated him to hell knowing that leech was able to manipulate her into a dangerous situation...But, the fact that she sounded used to it, left a bad taste in his mouth. 

Jason made a note to start looking into Y/n's uncle, something wasn't adding up...He met the guy a few times as a kid. The old man kept never really mentioned having relatives, then again like anyone in the narrows he mainly kept to himself. The only person he ever really talked to was the same vampire Y/n talked to last night...

After helping Y/n into the jeep they made the trip to bunker in no time, it looked like a set of basement step dug into the side of rocks, It was nice set up steel walls, heavy doors and a military grade surveillance system, Now he really had check in on Y/n's uncle.

he was supposed to be a retired army doctor who gave cheap medical check-ups to the people living in the Narrows, But this says he had more then just medical training under his belt this bunker says vigilante or merc for hire...And if that's case then just who the hell is Y/n? was she really his niece?...or did he obtain her through other means? 

"Jason?"

"Hm..."

"Are you alright? you look stressed."

"Yeah, just thinking..uh, would it be okay I stayed in this bunker...I for y'know" Y/n stared him down causing Jason to wonder if she saw through him, the h/c hummed handing him back his jacket "Yeah that's fine just don't break anything." the raven haired man relaxed then noticed her clothes or rather scrubs wouldn't be his first choice but, it was better then nothing.

He took his jacket back and put it back on ignoring the fuzzy feeling he got smelling the way her scent from it mingled with his, it made his beast want more from the h/c girl who obliviously felt nothing.

"...Probably fucking that Irish bastard anyways." Jason muttered not realizing he said it out loud till Y/n sneered in disgust at the mere thought. "Che..Yeah, He wishes." Jason's eyes widened and looked at her gobsmacked "Yes, you did say it out loud." she smirked the vigilante felt his face heat up. "And you'll be happy to know that you achieved something Riley been trying to do for years and will never get chance to."

she says winking at him, Jason couldn't help but feel a small bit of pride at hearing that...and without really thinking he smirked "I wouldn't mind doing it again, just to piss him off." he quipped Y/n face turned pink, and the raven haired man blanched "I..didn't mean..." the h/c waved him off "No, no it's fine I wouldn't mind...Just make sure we're both sober this time." She said seriously Jason coughed. 

"I'll make sure on that, ...But, just to be clear this thing is just sex alright? I'm not really looking for a relationship." He said keeping his distance as h/c contemplated this. "Okay, deal and if we both find someone we go our separate ways..." She held her hand and Jason seem to be thinking it over too. "Deal." He said shaking her hand ignoring the way the tightness in his chest and the way his stomach flopped.  

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

Just the notes ma’am:  [Scarlets or rather Scarlet harlots: Are women who purposely let Vamps drink from them in exchange for. Money, Drugs or Sex. They're basically prostitutes who cater to Vampires, It's not uncommon to find a Scarlet pregnant from one-night stands or dead from over drain.]

#Jason Todd fanfiction #red hood x reader #werewolf! Jason Todd #Batman vampire au #werewolf au #wendigo #I can't write fight scenes #dc comics #supernatural au #jason todd x reader #dc universe #batman #jason todd #Red hood #werewolf #werewolf x reader #interspecies romance

[bkwrm523]

1418 word count. Swearing, threats, spoilers for Season 2 of Legends of Tomorrow

“What did you do?!”  Malcolm demanded.  His voice was low, but tense.  He didn’t yell.  Out of the three of them, he seemed to be the only one who understood what was happening.

“See for yourself.”  I replied calmly.  I smirked at him, confident and eerie, gesturing with my head towards Eobard.  Eobard was sitting at what looked like a futuristic computer, typing furiously and scowling at the screen.  They’d taken a blood sample sometime after I’d started coughing up the stuff.  Damien had known that he wasn’t the cause of me coughing up blood.  He hadn’t caused enough damage, yet.

“Eobard?”  Malcolm demanded, still tense, without looking away from me.  My smirk stayed in place.

“She’s dying.”  Eobard’s expression turned to incredulous moments before he spoke.

“She’s what?!”  Damien demanded angrily.

“I said she’s dying, Damien.  Are you turning deaf?!”  Eobard snapped back.

“How long?”  Malcolm asked.

“Hours.”  Eobard replied.  He stood from the table, taking slow deliberate steps towards me.  “What did you do?!”  He demanded in a low voice.

“I took time away from you, Eobard.”  I told him, a small smile curling the edges of my lips.

“You’re lying.”  Damien said, a bit desperately.  “You don’t want to die.  You would have left yourself a way out.”

“She has clinical depression, Damien.”  Eobard informed him, holding my gaze.  “She’s quite prepared to die protecting the Spear.”

“Now,” I began, crossing my legs and settling back in the chair I was tied to.  “You can all keep torturing me for the location of my piece of the Spear, if you want.  I certainly can’t stop you.  But, if you do… really, I only need to hold out until I die.  After that, no one has the spear.  Which’ll suit me just fine.

“Tell me, Mr. Darhk.”  I continued, looking away from Eobard and over to Damien.  “What are you chances of breaking me under those circumstances.”  The expression on his face answered my question.  “Let’s begin, shall we?”

“You’ve made your point.”  Malcolm spoke, looking annoyed.  “We’re not going to torture you.”

“Yet.”  Damien added.

“That’s not what she means.”  Eobard told them, looking simultaneously angry and exhausted.  “She has hoops for us to jump through.”

“Indeed.”  I replied, giving them a pleased grin.

“What do you have?!”  Eobard demanded.

“I don’t know.”  I told him flatly.  Eobard’s eyes narrowed, anger overtaking the exhaustion.  His right hand blurred, and he lifted it in a threat.  I laughed aloud.  “Where do you expect that to get you, Eobard?  I’m already dying, slowly and painfully.  You’re the one that needs me alive, not me.  Go ahead, do it.  I dare you.”  My words penetrated his anger, and he looked at his hand as though it were a stranger.  It stopped vibrating, and he slowly lowered it down to his side.

“Now.”  I continued.  “Stop throwing tantrums and think.  I honestly don’t know.”

“You had help.”  Malcolm said, the lightbulb moment visible on his face.

“I had help.”  I confirmed.  “And that help is the only person who knows what I have, how to fix it, and where to obtain the cure.”

“Fine.”  Damien said, exasperated.  “Then tell us who we need to torture to get that information!”

“Ohhh,” I replied, grinning again.  “That’s the best part.”

“Stop playing games!”  Eobard yelled.  “You’re dying!”

“I already told you!”  I shot back, lifting an eyebrow.  There was a long, pregnant moment of silence as all three of them frowned, and wracked their brains.  “Think.”  I prompted them.  I was starting to understand why so many villains gave grandiose speeches.  This was fun.

“Son of a-” Malcolm was the first to figure it out.  He growled in frustration, picking up a nearby end table and hurling it at the nearest wall to smash into pieces.

“Temper.”  Damien urged.  “What?”

“When we captured her.  She said-” Malcolm began explaining, infuriated.

“You could have made this a lot easier if you hadn’t been so damn ham handed.”  I supplied helpfully.  Malcolm gave a gesture towards me, confirming the clue.

“...right.”  Damien replied, he and Eobard looking no less lost.  “And?”

“When we attacked the Waverider, we did the ship a lot of damage.”  Malcolm continued.

“I’m fairly certain that was the point.”  Damien snapped.

“Oh, no.”  Eobard said, finally catching on.

“What?!”  Damien was losing his patience at this point, the last one to figure it out.

“We disabled the Waverider’s AI, Damien.”  Malcolm told him.

“Gideon.”  Eobard finished.  “She told Gideon.”

“... the AI we broke when we took her from the ship?”

“Yep.”  I replied cheerfully.

“So, let me see if I have this straight.”  Damien spoke first, breaking the silence in the room.  “If we want to find her piece of the Spear,  we first have to find the Legends, fix the ship, convince the ship’s AI to tell us where the cure is, go get the cure, and save Y/n.  Before we can torture her?”

“Basically.”  I replied.  “Best part is, you guys breaking Gideon wasn’t part of the plan.  I made sure to tell her to pick a cure that was somewhere that’d take you guys time to get to.  So, if I were you?  I’d hurry.”

***

“You have your cure.”  Eobard spat, thoroughly exasperated by now.  “Where.  Is.  The Spear?!”

“Your plan to stall us until you get rescued failed.”  Damien added, smirking.

“Oh, boys.”  You gave them a grin, spitting blood off to the side.  “How little you know me.”

“What the hell does that mean?!”  Malcolm demanded.

“Come on, Malcolm.”  I rolled my eyes at him.  “Do you really think that this was my only contingency plan?!  You boys are just getting started.”

“Where is the fucking Spear, Y/n?!”  Eobard demanded.  He grabbed my arms, lifting me in the air and shoving me against the nearest wall.

“Oh, cool your tits.”  I told him.  “I’ll tell you for free.  Put me down.”

“Eobard.”  Malcolm said.  Eobard stood still for a moment, rage on his face.  After a moment, he complied, setting me down and taking a step back.

“We found the jumpship you used to hide the spear.”  Damien said.

“The records from when you used it show over twenty destinations.”  Malcolm continued.

“Destinations all over time.”  Damien resumed.

“It’ll take us weeks to investigate them all.”  Eobard spoke, having regained some control over his temper.  “Or you could just tell us?”

“You must already have some idea, Eobard.”  I told him.  “You know how I think.”

“Star Labs.”  He said breathlessly.  “You hid it with team Flash.  Thought another speedster would be enough to stop me.”  He smirked again, and I stopped a moment to enjoy the look on his face.  He was a good looking man, after all.

“See, that’s your problem, Eobard.”  I told him, smirking back at him.  “You think too small.”  The eyefucking with Eobard was momentarily interrupted by a stifled snort from Damien, who apparently appreciated the insult.

“It’s through the portal in the Star Labs basement.”  Malcolm said, surprisingly calm despite the setback.

“Earth two?!”  Eobard demanded, flabbergasted.

“Once again, too small.”  I told him.

“Stop playing and tell us already.”  Damien demanded impatiently.

“See, I know Eobard has been trying to figure out what universe I’m from, and he’s getting very close.”  I continued, pacing again.  “So by now you must know about the comic books.”

“Yes.”  He confirmed, breathing hard.  “And?!”

“Well, when I was hiding my piece of the spear, I got to thinking.”  I continued.  “Where better to hide a DC artifact from DC villains… than the MCU.”  Malcolm and Damien just stared at me blankly, not getting the reference.  Eobard was a different story.

Eobard’s face dropped, dismay and an expression that could only be summed up as ‘oh, shit.’

“Where did you hide it?”  Eobard demanded, shoving me against the wall again.  “SHIELD?  Odin’s treasure vault?!”

“Oh, honey.”  I gave him a look of false sympathy.  “I gave it to the Avengers.”  Eobard, still panting, dropped my arms and taking several steps back.  I could see the wheels turning in his head, trying to add up how the Legion would fare against the Avengers.  Judging by the look on his face, it wasn’t good.

“And I told them everything I know about you all.”  I finished, smiling at them.

#eobard thawne #eobard/reader #eobard x reader #eobard thawne/reader #eobard thawne x reader #murder speed daddy #drabble #eobard thawne drabble #last laugh

[zombylucky]

Issues

Part Two of The Sins Of Our Past , RK900/Gavin , Established Relationship , Warnings for description of gore, gun violence.

Chapter One

The sky was overcast and heavy with rain that had yet to fall. Gavin hunched his shoulders under the chill, walking briskly. He cast a glare up at the clouds when a droplet of rain hit his cheek. A few more followed, and then it was a downpour. Gavin cursed loudly, throwing his hood up over his head and running towards the precinct, shoes splashing rainwater onto his jeans.

He stumbled into the bullpen, drenched and cranky. His coworkers glanced at him, skuttling out of his way as he headed for the break room, hell bent on another coffee.

Nines usually made him coffee in the morning with the French press he’d bought for the apartment, but Gavin had somehow managed to screw his coffee up without the androids guidance.

His heart gave a dull ache of longing as Gavin poured the shitty coffee, downing it way too fast and relishing the burn in his throat. He poured another, heading back to his desk, head throbbing in a combination of stress and lack of caffeine.

Gavin was irritated. Gavin was lonely. Gavin was depressed because he woke up in a bed that was far too empty, reaching for someone that wasn’t there, and he knew that no one would be kind to him in the androids absence.

“Good morning, Detective Reed.” Gavin felt his scowl deepen and he fought the urge to slide down in his seat until he slithered under the desk. Instead, he took a long pull of coffee, setting it down and forcing himself to turn to look at Connor Anderson.

“Morning.” He grumbled, averting his gaze. Since the revolution, he really couldn’t look Connor directly in the eyes, not without waves of guilt washing over his heart.

Connor smiled brightly at him, sitting on the edge of his desk. Gavin leaned away, crossing his arms over his chest.

“How are you today?”

“I’m alright.” Gavin lied. He got hardly any sleep and had one of the worst mornings he’d ever had. If Connor noticed this, which he most likely did, he didn’t mention it.

“Wonderful.” He said, his eyes twinkling. Gavin almost winced. He’d held a gun to that face. “Well I should probably go get some work done. Have a nice day Gavin.” Connor said with a wave, hopping off the desk and walking back to his own.

Gavin heaved a sigh, staring at his terminal with acheing eyes. The case was progressing slowly, it didn’t help that his walking forensics lab of a partner was gone either.

It was what Gavin would call a ‘messy’ case. Some sicko in the Detroit area was kidnapping and murdering people, chopping them up, packaging them neatly and shipping them to the various breeds of freak that called Detroit home. The purposes ranged from cannibalism to rituals, and touched on every other demented thing Gavin could think of. It was truly sickening, and Gavin was up to his elbows in unecessary evidence that lead nowhere.

If Nines were here, he could pour over the DNA evidence and find the common ground in minutes. But instead, the grey eyed wonder been recruited by Robo Jesus to serve as his personal body guard while he attended meetings in DC. Gavin was generally unhapppy about it.

He was pulled from his brooding by the soft chirp of his phone, he dug it out of his pocket to see a text from Nines.

How are things? The message read.

Shitty. I miss you. Gavin replied, feeling his heart ache a little harder.

It won’t be much longer now, one more night and then I’ll be coming home. I miss you too.

Gavin sighed, shutting his eyes. One more night.

I’ll be waiting for you.

Gavin set his phone down, resting his forehead on the desk. It was gonna be a long day, he already knew it.

...

After six hours of phone calls and pouring over evidence, Gavin had a suspect, and a warrant for his arrest. He stood on the guys porch, one hand clicking the holster of his gun open, the other holding the warrant.

He’d knocked twice, and there had been no answer. Time to kick the door in. Gavin felt a small twinge of happiness, there really was nothing like kicking a door open. It might be his favorite part of his training.

The door swung open after two good kicks, Gavin sliding his gun out of the holster and holding it in front of him. The house was dark and silent. The light from the street illuminated stacks of trash in the hallway.

Rather than announce himself, Gavin stepped cautiously into the apartment, scanning for movement. He moved into the kitchen, taking in the rotting food and dirty dishes that coated every surface. The living room was equally crammed, full of miscellaneous trash and decrepit furniture, magazines and newspapers lying around in haphazard piles. After skimming over the other rooms, Gavin caught sight of a door slightly ajar at the end off the hall, the faint outline of stairs just out of sight.

Gathering his courage, he pressed the door open, gun brushing against the wood, and peered into the darkness. Gavin found himself torn between two equally strong sentiments. On one hand, his instincts were screaming at him to back away and call for backup. The freak could be down there, and Gavin would prefer not to get into a tousle with someone who enjoyed chopping up bodies. On the other hand, he knew that if he backed down, anyone hiding down there would have a window to escape, and likely never be seen again.

Settle for a compromise then.

Gavin unclipped his radio from his belt, holding it to his mouth.

“This is Detective Reed requesting backup at my location.” He whispered into the mic, wary of being heard.

“Dispatch to Officer Reed, what is your location?” Came the answer. Gavin rattled off the address before shutting the radio off, returning it to his belt and stepping onto the creaking stairs.

The basement was too dark to see anything, damp and full of a sickening smell that made Gavin’s heart race. He fumbled around for a light switch, finally flicking one on and flooding the space with sickly yellow light.

What he saw made him clap a hand over his mouth, gagging.

Body parts. Everywhere. Arms and legs and torsos, bloody and rotting and lying on tables, half packaged in cellophane and oh god the smell-

Gavin couldn’t help but vomit in his mouth, doubling over to hack it into the floor.

“This is fucking sick.” Gavin groaned to himself, holding his gun higher. He reached for the camera mounted to his gun, turning it on and sweeping it around the room. This was damning evidence all right.

Before he had time to react, a body collided with his own, sending Gavin sprawling beneath it. Thick hands wrestled for his gun as Gavin cursed and flailed, attempting to pull it away from himself far enough to fire a shot. Growing desperate, Gavin slammed his forehead into what he assumed was the guys nose, using He moment of surprise to shoot him in the chest three times.

Gurgling and groaning willed his ears, but Gavin was still trapped beneath the hulking man. His gun was suddenly being wedges between them, his wrist twisting painfully. Gavin pulled his hand away with a cry, and felt a chill run down his spine as another shot was fired.

He thrashed and wiggled from under the now dying body, taking in the blood pooling under the man and the gun in his hands, and the blood soaking into Gavin’s shirt.

Gavin rested a hand against his chest, suddenly finding it hard to breath. Blood bubbled from the wound, the room wobbled to the side, Gavin collapsing in a heap.

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Shit.” Gavin gasped, pressing his hand tightly against the wound, ignoring the sickly squelch of blood on skin. He fumbled with his radio, hands wet with his own blood, pistol discarded.

“Sh- shit.” He whimpered, pressing the mic button. “Gavin Reed. Officer.. ah- Down.”

“Dispatch to Detective Reed, help is in its way. Backup should be arriving shortly.”

“Copy.” He choked, dropping the radio and focusing on forcing air into his straining lungs. This was bad, this was really bad.

Oh shit, this can’t be happening.

“Gavin?” A familiar voice shouted upstairs. It was Hank.

“Here.” Gavin croaked, blood clogging his airways and dribbling from his lips.

The stairs groaned as Hank jogged down them, the second set of footsteps no doubt belonging to Connor. Gavin whimpered, the pain catching up to him, and reached blindly for Hank.

I don’t wanna die.

“Oh fuck.” Hank whispered, falling to his knees beside him. “Hey, hey it’s alright, I’m right here kid.”

“Hank? Hank?” Gavin asked weakly, chest heaving. “I don’t wanna... die. Please-“ he coughed, blood splattering from his mouth. Hank grimaced, grasping his hand and pulling his head into his lap.

“Connor, help me put pressure on this.” Connor nodded tensely, kneeling beside Gavin with his LED a furious red. Their hands fell to push on the wound, drawing a ground out sob from Gavin.

“Connor?” Gavin gasped out, head rolling to look up at his anxious face.

“Yes Gavin?” Connor replied in a hushed voice.

“I’m sorry... I was such- a dick.” Gavin forced the words through his throat, blood running down his chin and gathering at the corners of his mouth.

“I forgave you along time ago Gavin.” Connor soothed, stroking the sweaty hair away from his forehead.

“If I dont... if I don’t...”

“Don’t say that.” Hank snapped. “You’re gonna be fine.”

“You know that.. won’t- work on me.” Gavin was gasping for air now, eyes getting distant. “Just tell Nines... that I love him, and- he was the.. best thing- that ever- happened to me...”

Connor looked at Hank, wild eyed. Gavin arched up off the ground a little.

“Promise.” He whispered.

“I promise.” Hank murmured, squeezing his hand. “I promise.” Gavin smiled, his teeth were red.

“Thank you.” He breathed. “Thank- you. Thank.. you- thank-“ He was cut off, gurgling violently, eyes glazing over. The edges of his vision grew fuzzy and dark, Gavin gripped Hanks hand tighter. The black swarmed over his vision, and Gavin felt himself falling endlessly.

#rk900 x gavin fic #rk900 x gavin #rk900/gavin #rk900/gavin angst #heavy angst #ongoing #yeah sorry about the angst right off the bat #but theres a purpose to this i swear