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ridiculousn3sswrites · 3 years

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Pressing Issues

*Dick Grayson x Reader

*Summary: Detective Dick Grayson has never been annoyed by another person as much as journalist Reader.

*Warnings: Swearing, talks of gun violence (relevant to a case Dick is working on), mention of robbery (case mention), cop stuff. Let me know if I missed anything.

*A/N: I made a post talking about this idea a while ago and finally wrote it.

Tip Jar

**********

When Detective Dick Grayson stepped on the scene, he didn’t expect anything different from what was told to him on the way there. He went about doing his thing - talking to the officers on the scene, chatting with CSI - when he heard his partner let out an exaggerated groan. Dick looked over, confused at the noise. His partner just rolled his eyes, nodding towards a woman with a press badge. “Man, why’d they send her?”

“Who’s that?” Dick asked. He’d never seen her before, but she was definitely attractive. He’d had a few press statements on other cases, and he never really saw the issue with the press. Maybe that was just from growing up around Bruce and all the media attention that brought, but the journalists he’d spoken to in Bludhaven had never been rude to him.

“That’s (y/n), she’s a monster.” His partner provided no further explanation as the woman walked up to them.

“I’m sorry, Miss, but you can’t be on the scene,” Dick immediately said. He was surprised the other officers didn’t stop her at the tape.

“Right, but those officers weren’t giving me any answers,” she told him. His partner let out a laugh.

“Grayson, you can deal with her, just get her out of the tape,” his partner said.

“Rodriguez, always nice to see you.” She smiled at his partner, but her tone was dripping with sarcasm. “Haven’t gotten any better at your job since the last time we spoke, have you?”

“Grayson, get her out of here.” Rodriguez lost any amusement he had with the woman, and Dick knew he should get the journalist out of there before things escalated even further. Dick led her away from the scene, right to the edge of the tape but away from the small crowd that were always nosing around scenes.

“Detective Richard Grayson, how can I help you out?”

“(Y/n) (L/n), lead crime journalist for the Bludhaven Gazette. I wanted to get a feel for the scene before we put anything out about it,” she explained. “Anything you can share about what happened?”

“Alright, well we have two males hit in a drive-by, one dead on the scene. We don’t know much about motives or anything, but we’re suspecting rival gangs based on the fact this happened in a grey-zone,” Dick told her. It would be vague enough to satisfy her readers, but didn’t put anything too speculative out there. She was shaking her head as she wrote down what he said. “Wait, what’s all that about?”

“What?”

“The head shaking? What, you don’t agree with the police statement?” Dick was trying to joke with her, but he was still confused.

“It’s not a grey-zone, but I wouldn’t expect the cops to know that,” she said, challenging him. Dick tried to think back to his nightly activities, trying to figure out if he missed anything with how the city was divided. As far as he knew, this area was unclaimed. “Right, so that’s it?”

“Well, yeah. We just got on the scene not too long ago.” She just hummed, and he wasn’t sure if it was in acknowledgement or disapproval. “Hey, what’s your beef with Rodriguez?”

“For a Detective, he’s shit at his job,” she told him, clicking her pen as she put it back in her bag.

“Care to elaborate?”

“A kid got snatched, broad daylight, and Rodriguez was the lead on the case. Gave up after a few days. I dunno where you’re from, but where I’m from, we don’t give up like that, especially on a kid,” she said. “I wrote articles talking about it, and Rodriguez doesn’t like me because I called him out on it.”

“Wow, you’re pretty cutthroat,” Dick said, whistling lowly.

“I just don’t give you guys any slack. Be good at your job and you have nothing to worry about.” She smiled at him before turning on her heel and walking away. He watched as she put her phone to her ear, probably talking to someone back at the office. She scared him a little, but he was always up for the challenge.

**********

Rodriguez was right. Dick was always down for accountability, but the way you brought it into his life was a bit much. Every time there was even the slightest hint of a development, you were there with your opinions about what he was doing wrong, and if you ever had any praise for him, it was so sparse he couldn’t even tell it was praise. He was just trying to look through some files to piece together your little cryptic ‘it’s not a grey-zone’ hint, when Rodriguez tapped on his desk.

“What’s up?” He asked, looking up at his partner.

“You got a visitor.”

“God, don’t tell me…”

“Surprise, your worst nightmare is here, Grayson.”

“Aw, I got a new nickname?” You asked Rodriguez as you dropped in the chair next to Dick’s desk. Dick had to stop the groan from escaping him, really not wanting to deal with you.

“She’s your problem now,” Rodriguez said, walking away. Dick almost wished he could go with him.

“Alright, (L/n), what is it now?” Dick asked, putting down his files.

“You have ID on one of the victims and it was a guy with no connections to anything on the Underground, but no progress on the shooter? C’mon, Grayson, I thought you’d at least be better than Rodriguez.”

“I’m working with what I have,” he huffed, fighting the way he wanted to roll his eyes.

“You’re not looking at all your options. Put away the gang files, they’re not the ones you should be looking at,” you almost ordered him. “I’m practically doing your job for you at this point. I gotta run, I have an interview.”

“You’re leaving the Gazette?” Dick was almost hopeful. That would definitely make things easier on him.

“No, smart one, I’m the one doing the interviewing.”

“Wow, who would’ve guessed with your shining personality,” Dick shot back, finally annoyed.

“I’m a ray of sunshine, just not with cops,” you said with your fake little smile before leaving him there. It took everything to not slam his head against his desk.

**********

Dick always thought he was good under pressure, but this was intense. With your little article that came out the day after you talked to him - apparently your interview was with the victim’s wife - public pressure was increasing on the department tenfold. He hated to admit it, but you were good at what you did. He was almost pissed off at himself after reading the article, and that was saying something.

He needed to close this case so he could get you off his back, and he needed to do it fast. Not only did you put pressure on the department, now his superiors were putting even more pressure on him. He knew you were cryptic with what you knew, but you wanted him to put together the pieces. When he was out for his nightly patrol, he was trying to piece together what little hints you dropped.

Dick had to admitted he was silently fuming as he sat on the rooftop across from the scene of the crime. After all, what did you know? It’s not like you had access to the databases he did, both legally and in the legally grey. What did she mean it’s not gang-related? It has to be, this is disputed territory right now.

And of course something sketchy had to happen while he was doubting you. A black town car pulled up to the block, someone getting out of the passenger seat and scanning the area before going back to talk to someone in the back. Dick cursed as he grabbed his binoculars, trying to watch the scene closer to see if he could get any more information from the sketchy scene. He zoomed in on the man in the backseat, a guy dressed in an expensive-looking suit wearing sunglasses at night (like an asshole), silver rings adorning his fingers.

“No way,” Dick mumbled, taking a picture of the rings to send to Barbara later. One of them in particular looked familiar, but he couldn’t exactly place it. “How the hell did she…”

After whoever it was seemed satisfied with how the scene looked, the person got back into the car and it pulled off, the tires screeching in the quiet of the night. As soon as Dick finished his patrols for the night, he sent the picture off to Barbara. She called him as soon as she ran the picture. “Hey, where’d you see this guy?”

“By the scene of that drive-by a couple weeks ago,” Dick explained. “I recognize that big ring he’s wearing on his middle finger, but I have no idea where from. Can you help me out?”

“Yeah, that’s a Baglio family ring,” she told him. “I can’t get an ID on the guy, but you remember that Italian family we were having trouble with out here? Same family.”

“Damn, she was right then. Technically not gang related. Hey, does the mob count as a gang?”

“I mean, technically, but they aren’t really recognized as gangs when it comes to like popular recognition. Does that really matter, though?”

“It’s a matter of me being technically right, so yes.”

“You’re annoying, has anyone told you that lately?”

“As a matter of fact, yes.”

“Okay, good talk then.”

**********

Actually having a solid lead meant that he was able to close the case a lot sooner than he previously thought. Sure, he wasn’t able to actually bag whoever was in the back of the town car, but he was able to track down the shooters. At the press conference announcing the arrest of the shooters, he could see you right there in the front row with the other reporters. Dick caught your gaze for a second, and he almost missed the small nod of approval you gave him. For a moment, he thought he’d finally get on your good side again.

Then again, the peace could only last for so long. Every single case he was on, he could bet there was an article about it soon to follow. You’d appear at every crime scene, moving on from antagonizing Rodriguez to finding Dick and immediately bothering him. You’d drop your little cryptic hints when he was having trouble with cases, and somehow they’d actually be useful once he decoded them. The thing that probably bugged him the most was how you managed to get to his desk almost every day he was working on particularly difficult cases. You never let him get to the point of forgetting about cases, especially for the ones that involved people that stayed away from the Underground.

He could understand not wanting cases to go cold, but the fact that you were coming into the precinct every single day to bug him about developments was a bit much. Dick could handle a healthy amount of shit talking, but there was just something about your shit talking that got him on edge. Everything about you just got under his skin, and seeing you so often was really not helping that out. It got to the point where he started trying to avoid you just to keep his sanity.

“Grayson, (L/n) just got on the scene, you wanna run?” Rodriguez asked as soon as he spotted you talking to the officers at the tape. Dick quickly looked around, trying to find someplace he could disappear to. The only real option would be to go look like he was talking to the CSI team, but he didn’t want to disturb them actually doing their jobs. Before he could make a decision, you were already approaching.

“Grayson, stop running from me. You know I know where you work,” you called out to him.

“I should really get you banned from the precinct,” he shot back, a small frown on his face.

“You know you’d get bored without me,” you said, rolling your eyes. “So, whatcha got for me?”

“Why are you talking like you’re on this case? Technically I don’t have to tell you anything more than the other officers told you.”

“So what I’m hearing is go ahead and write whatever I want.”

“For fuck’s sake-”

“Ooo, that’s the first time I’ve heard you curse. I like it. So, what’s the news?”

“It’s a robbery, one injured, but we have a couple witnesses and it sounds like we have a pretty solid perp description. We’re just waiting for the witnesses to meet with the sketch artist and then we’re sending out the sketch to the papers and news outlets,” Dick told you. “There, satisfied?”

“As a matter of fact, I am. Glad this one’s an easy one, I’d hate to have to write about you again,” you told him, turning around with a small smile on your face. “See you later, Grayson.”

“I sure hope not,” he decided to call after you. He could faintly hear your laugh, but the thing that caught his attention was the fact that you decided to flip him off as you walked away. Dick froze for a second, not sure if he should be highly amused or pissed off. He settled for somewhere in the middle, leaning more towards being pissed off.

When you put out your article, it was a simple, tell the details, share the perp sketch type of article. Dick was pleasantly surprised that there were no real call outs about him; as a matter of fact, his name was only mentioned once with the request that anyone who sees or has information about the suspect contact the tip-line immediately. He smiled at his laptop, taking the lack of criticism as praise. He was even willing to take the shit talking from Rodriguez, because as far as he was concerned, Rodriguez was just jealous that he never got this type of reaction from you.

**********

Dick didn’t realize he actually somewhat enjoyed your company - if he could call it that - until you stopped bothering him. You moved on from targeting him, bugging other detectives and officers about their open cases. He would hear complaints, as well as some pretty unsavory things, about you from the people you were bothering, and he was surprised about the amount of times he almost jumped to your defense. You were the biggest pain in his ass - constantly bugging him about his cases and making sure that he didn’t forget about your existence - so why did your disappearance bother him so much?

He got used to seeing you around the precinct (just not talking to him), but then he noticed when you stopped showing up. You didn’t show up to crime scenes, you didn’t show up to the precinct, you just weren’t there anymore, and that worried him. He tried asking around about you, seeing if maybe you were there and he just didn’t happen to run into you, but he met the same response: relief that you’d stopped coming around. It got to the point where he was checking the Bludhaven Gazette’s website to see if you’d written any new articles. Nothing.

Dick figured there’d be no way to really contact you; it wasn’t like he could just call your job and be like ‘hey, why isn’t this journalist bothering me anymore?’. He tried pushing you to the back of his mind, but he found himself still looking for you. It annoyed him - even when you weren’t there, you still managed to find a way to bug him. Before he knew it, a month had passed without seeing you. Then, as he was trying to schmooze up to a DA at the Policeman’s Ball, he could hear the telltale groan of another officer. You were there.

Sure enough, there you were in a black cocktail dress, a flute of champagne in hand, talking to someone he vaguely recognized from a different precinct. He wanted to excuse himself from his conversation just to see where the hell you’d been, but he knew he couldn’t risk it. He’d just have to find you later.

Then you slipped away yet again. Dick kept seeing glimpses of you here and there, but he could never catch up to you. It wasn’t until you went to the bar that Dick finally found his opening. You were talking to someone, but he didn’t really care at the moment. He slid up beside you at the bar, ordering a drink. He could see you straighten up at the sound of his voice, knowing he had your attention. As he took a drink of the whiskey in his cup, he turned to look at you.

You were a lot more done up than you normally were when you were working, but he couldn’t say he strongly preferred either. You looked amazing either way, just in different ways. “(L/n), funny running into you here.”

“Grayson,” you greeted, taking a sip of your own drink. “I can hardly believe this is an accident considering the way you’ve been watching me all night.”

That took him off guard, just enough to make him choke on his drink for a second. As soon as he regained his composure, he tried to figure out how to come back from his blunder. “Well, yeah. I thought I was seeing a ghost considering how you just disappeared.”

Not his best work, but you gave an amused smile so he would count it as a win. “Aw, you missed me.”

“I wouldn’t go that far. It was just weird not being bothered every second of my work day.” You tipped your glass back, the last of your drink passing your lips. He watched as you swallowed before putting the glass back on the counter, leaving some bills folded under it.

“Ah, I see. Well, I guess I’ll see you around, Grayson.” You stood from your seat, giving him one last look before turning to disappear back into the crowd. Dick would have to work fast if he wanted to catch up to you before you slipped through his fingers yet again. He paid for his drink and left a tip as fast as he could, scanning through the crowd for you again. You were about to disappear down the hallway towards the bathrooms, and he still had to make his way through the crowd as politely as possible while also avoiding conversation. Damn social conventions.

You walked down the hall, wanting to escape to the bathroom for a few minutes to compose yourself, when you felt a hand around your wrist. You whipped around, not knowing who would be daring enough in a room full of police, just to see the last person you wanted to. “Grayson, let go of me.”

“No,” his voice was firm before he realized it must’ve been a little jarring to just get grabbed. “Sorry, but no.”

“What do you want?”

“Why are you even here?”

“It’s my job. I’m reporting on this damn thing,” you practically hissed, trying again to tug your wrist free from his hold. “Why do you care so much?”

“You’ve been MIA for a month and then suddenly you just appear here of all places? What gives?” He said, stepping towards you. You took a step back, trying to keep the distance, but your back just hit the wall behind you. You were forced to look up at him, the storm in his blue eyes surprising you. Why did it matter so much?

“I got sick, alright? My editor thought this would be an easy returner,” you snapped, trying to maintain your glare with him. It was a little difficult with how close he was to not get flustered, but you did what you needed to. “Why, did you miss me?”

You could tell that pissed him off by the smallest flare of his nose, but before you could take in the victory, he hit his arm on the wall above you. He kept it there, trapping you between his body and the wall. He wasn’t pressed against you just yet, but you wouldn’t be opposed to it if it was. “Why do you like pissing me off so much?”

He really didn’t see the opportunity he presented you with. You grabbed his tie the slightest bit, giving him the chance to pull away if he wanted to. When he didn’t, you used it to pull him down to your eye level. “Have you ever considered how fun it is?”

There was a moment of pure silence between the two of you, the faint noise of the party still going on just down the hall reminding you that you weren’t actually alone. Your gaze flicked down to his lips for just a moment, and then it was over. You don’t know who closed the distance first, but it didn’t really matter. The kiss was heated from the beginning, messy with tongue and teeth but you weren’t going to complain about it. Your hold on his tie tightened, pulling him closer to you. Dick’s arm moved from pressed against the wall above you, one hand fisting in your hair and the other wrapping around your waist to pull your body against him.

“God, I hate you,” Dick panted soon after he broke the kiss.

“Why do I get the feeling you don’t?” You tried teasing, even though your voice was a lot more airy than you would care to admit.

“You annoy the hell out of me.”

“I’m a journalist that doesn’t give cops any wiggle room, of course I do.” He rolled his eyes, making you smile. You pressed another kiss to the corner of his mouth. “But you still missed me.”

“I guess I did. Do you maybe wanna get out of here?” You raised your brow, knowing he had to know how that sounded. It took him a second, but it finally clicked. “Not like that! Get some food or something. You probably aren’t annoying all the time.”

“You underestimate me,” you joked, making him smile. He has a pretty smile. “But I’ll take you up on that. Just make sure you behave yourself.”

“You’re the one who kissed me!”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” You freed yourself from his arms, making your way back down the hallway towards the exit. It took him a second, but you heard Dick following close behind. He pressed a hand to the small of your back, making sure you wouldn’t slip from his fingers again.

**********

Dress Inspiration

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johannstutt413 · 3 years

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(requested by mathmaticalknight; continuing a series)

“Ya know, I dunno why I thought she mighta been jokin’ ‘bout the tuxes.” Croissant was blushing brightly as she was getting her measurements taken.

Mostima shrugged. “I don’t ever plan on getting married, but one of us was bound to tie the knot sooner or later, and Texas needs to find an officiant who will sign two certificates for her discreetly before it’s even an option for her. Where are your hanger-ons, by the way?”

“With Angelina, doing the same thing we are.” The Lupo had a Pocky stick in her mouth like a cigar, taking it all in. “I wouldn’t marry Sora, though. Exu maybe, but not Sora. She’s a good girl, but the whole ‘idol worship’ is a bit much.”

“She’d really want you to praise her that much?” The Sarkaz smirked.

Texas rolled her eyes. “Funny.”

“If any’n’s worshippin’ any’n, it ain’t Tex.” The Forte chuckled, but had to stop when the tape measure came ‘round again. “Hey, how tight this need ta be? Least gimme a lil’ room ta breathe ‘ere.”

“Don’t question my judgment, ‘less you wan’a punishment. I been wearin’ this look a lot longer than you.” Emperor bit back, making the last few notes he needed.

The three shared a glance. “You wear T-shirts over your feathers, though,” Mostima observed.

“Well, yeah, cuz’ I like the style,” he replied, “but if ya ever see me rockin’ my birthday suit, you’d know I’m just as fuckin’ classy. Got killer shoes to boot.”

“What, yer feet?” Croissant glanced down at the penguin’s openly-visible legs.

He nodded. “Damn straight. The boys will have your suit to ya within a couple days; when’s the big shindig, anyways?”

“Uh...I dunno.” The Forte shrugged. “We’re gonna sign the papers a week from now, but we don’t have money for a ceremony.”

“Well, then, imma have to do it myself.” Emperor opened his notes again and walked away, pen scribbling faster than before.

Texas shook her head. “That’s how you know you’re the Boss’s favorite, Cross.”

“Aw, shucks, I didn’ wan’im to pay fer it.” She sighed. “I’m gonna be payin’im back ferever at this rate.”

“Could be worse - if he died before forever came along, the debt would probably go right back to the company.” And with that, the Sankta left, the other two not too far behind, to meet Bison in the lobby.

Meanwhile, Magallan was moving at a more leisurely pace, listening to Angie recount the proposal story. “That sounds exactly like I imagined. Empy’s was a lot more ostentatious, but I had no idea what was coming, either. WIth him, he could’ve been holding an impromptu concert.”

“That’s the Emperor, alright.” Exusiai sighed. “I can’t imagine what it’d be like to go through something like this. Can you, Sora?”

“Hmm?” The ‘Lupo’ had been doing just that, actually.

Angelina smiled. “Oh, I think she can. I’ve had that look on my face for the past week now...It’s too bad we can’t afford to have a ceremony, though.”

“You can’t?” The Liberi measuring her stopped. “Oh, dear, why didn’t you tell me? I’m sure Empy and I can help you with that; consider it our wedding gift to you both.”

“You’d really do that? But they’re so expensive...” Her fiance’s sense for money was rubbing off on her.

Magallan chirped merrily. “Oh, it’s no big deal; we’re making so much, it’s a drop in the bucket. How does three weeks from today sound?”

“Oh, Magallan, I can’t just blindly agree without talking to my Croissantwich first...buuut that’ll probably be okay.” The Vulpo was about to explode from happiness; luckily, they were done with measurements at this point (because of Liberi efficiency), so she was free to detonate with glee as she burst out of the dressing room. “Croissaaaaaant!”

“Angie?!” The Forte heard her and turned around in time to be slammed by a full-speed makeout machine which managed through sheer enthusiasm to knock her to the floor.

Texas nodded as the other two followed out. “Ceremony?”

“Ceremony,” Exusiai confirmed. “Emp and Maggie paying for the whole thing?”

“That’s what he said...Wonder if he’ll pay for ours.”

Two Penguin Logistics members turned bright red as Bison and Mostima had an intense but muted conversation off to the side...Yep, just another day in Penguin Logistics.

-----------

“Wow. They really did pull out all the stops, didn’t they?” The Doctor and Amiya took back their IDs from the door guard as they walked into the auditorium that’d been taken over. “It’ll be hard to match for ours.”

“Doctor darling, we probably shouldn’t compete with the Emperor like that. He doesn’t like to back down from a fight.” Besides, why would she need a grand ceremony? Just her and the Doctor at the altar, Kal’tsit as the Maid of Honor, Savage and Blaze as bridesmaids-

There was a tap on her shoulder as her date gestured to the seating. “I wonder if they expect to fill the place tonight.”

“Everyone’s sitting so close to the front, it’s hard to tell.” The Cautus shrugged. “Let’s sit back here. It’s a bit crowded there...So many emotions at once might overload me.”

“As you wish~ Oh, they’re about to start, I think. One question: why is Texas on the other side and wearing a suit? And why isn’t Emperor, even though Lappland is in one?”

Amiya shrugged. “Hard to say, Doctor. How did Lappland get to be a groomsman when Bison is- Oh! He’s the officiant.”

“When did he get that certifi-” He stopped as soon as Bison began to read.

“Friends, colleagues, and esteemed leaders of Rhodes Island,” the Forte began. “While I stand before you today acting in a merely ceremonial capacity in this celebration, I cannot begin to tell you how exciting a day this is not just for us at Penguin Logistics, but for Rhodes Island as a whole. Never have I seen a pair more in love than the two who come here today to declare their union in holy matrimony. Will the groom please come forward?”

From a door off to their right, there was a bit of a ruckus, followed by Croissant stepping through with a sheepish smile on her face as Emperor walked her to the altar before taking a front-row seat. Evidently, she’d knocked over a coat rack or something as she’d approached the door, but that wasn’t what grabbed people’s attention.

The Doctor squeezed Amiya’s hand. “Our Croissant is a rather handsome woman, isn’t she?”

“Oh, hush, dear.” She lightly slapped his hand, which was resting atop hers on the chair arm between them. “I think she looks lovely.”

“That’s what I meant, darling, just in a masculine sense. The style matches her perfectly, and the tailoring is also impeccable, honestly.”

She gave him a look. “Have you been studying this sort of thing?”

“It’s important to have a broad knowledge base.” He smiled as the Forte stepped up to the altar, clearly noticed she’d missed her mark, and shuffled a little to get into place. “Oh, Cross...”

“Uh...thank y’all for comin’. Wudn’t sure how many people’d wanna come when we’d already tied the knot on our own, but uh...It means a lot ta both of us, I know. Uh...” She probably had more, but she choked up with tears in her eyes in the face of Rhodes Island’s full support on display. “Th-thank y’all so much...”

As Texas patted her on the shoulder, Bison continued. “Is the bride ready?”

“As ready as she’ll ever be,” Mostima muttered as the opposite door opened to reveal a procession: Greyy with a pair of rings displayed on a pillow walking with Gummy, who was sprinkling the floor behind them with flowers. Behind them, Magallan was arm-in-arm with Angelina, who was wearing a suit of her own.

“Oh my God,” Amiya gasped in wonder. “Doctor-”

He nodded, squeezing her hand. “I see her, too, dear.”

“Hot damn,” Emperor audibly muttered, catching the attendees off-guard and eliciting more than a few laughs.

“Thank you, Emperor.” Angie smiled at him before turning to the crowd as Maggie took a seat. “My parents aren’t here, and I doubt they’d have agreed to attend if I’d told them, but Penguin Logistics is more like my family than anyone. The other day, I finally married into it, and...I just wanna say, to everyone from Rhodes Island who was able to make it, and the folks who had work to do, I appreciate everything you’ve all done for Cross and me since I got here. Even if this probably isn’t what any of you saw coming...Bison?”

He smiled. “Greyy, if you would?” The Perro held out the pillow for the couple to each take a ring. “Excellent. Now, as I wasn’t able to be fully ordained in time for this ceremony, I can’t lead the two in a recital of their vows, but they asked to be able to each say something here today. Angelina, if you will?”

“I think my wifesband should go first,” she teased, grinning at the blush that turn of phrase created.

“Well, ya only get ta do this right once, huh...” The Forte wiped at her eye. “Hoo boy. I was there the night Angie realized her feelin’s fer me, but I’ll a’mit, e’er since the firs’ day I saw ‘er, I ‘ad a pretty good ide-er just ‘ow wun’erful she is. Ain’t a lotta girls in’a world that got both a good ‘ead on ‘er shoulders and a warm ‘eart like she got, but ‘at ain’t e’ry’in ta love ‘bout ‘er either. Not sure if she ‘members this, but first time we met was back when she aksidelly went’n PL lookin’ fer the Doctor. Nothin’ like ‘avin’ some’n so gorjus tell ya ‘Sorry, was lookin’ fer some’n else,’ ya know?”

A bit of laughter from the crowd before she continued. “I reckon I ‘ad the last laugh there, tho’, cuz’ guess ‘oo gets to call ‘erself Mrs. Ajimu now...Angelface, we were friends long ‘fore I thought we ‘ad a chance at bein’ lovers, so you know when I say I’ve seen ya at yer best and yer worst, I ain’t tryin’a diss ya. There ain’t a nuther person in ‘is room as lucky as me t’day, ‘cuz the love of my life loves meh back...Ya prolly shud stop meh, else I’ll just keep ram’lin’.”

“That’s alright; even if these folks have other places to be, I’d listen to every word. You know, darling, if it was a nightmare that inspired you to propose to me when you did, I have to wonder what happens when you have a good dream, but I think I’ve been living in one since the day we had our first date. Between movie nights with the company and waking up to your smile in the mornings, it’s like living in one of the cheesy teen novels I loved reading after floating up to one of my usual spots. Loving you is a flashback and a memory and a dream and a reality all rolled up in knowing that, whatever happens - arguments, deployments that separate us, maybe even one of us getting hurt - there’s nothing in the world that’ll stop me from needing you, wanting you, standing by your side...Meeting you was the best thing that ever happened to me...” Having said her piece, tears in her eyes, Angie reached out and slid her ring on Cross’s finger, who did the same in turn.

“I think I’m gonna cry,” the Doctor whispered to his date, who already was. “G-good call on the back sea--” And there went the water works.

Across most of the auditorium, actually, save for those physically incapable, and Bison, who soldiered on regardless. “That said, before we get to the festivities provided by Emperor and Magallan for the evening, it’s my duty to ask: if anyone here has any objection to this union - not that it will matter from a legal standpoint - speak now or forever hold your peace...Good, because I’d punch you myself if you did. Then, by the power invested in me by Rhodes Island and subsidiary company Penguin Logistics-”

“When did that happen?” Amiya asked in a hushed voice. “I thought we were just partners with them?”

“Closure and Emperor came to some kind of understanding. I wasn’t there for the process, I just signed the agreement.”

“-I now announce you to the world as Mrs. and Mrs. Ajimu. You may now kiss your bride.”

You didn’t have to ask them twice.

The celebration afterwards was wild as hell. Emperor had an impromptu concert (as expected); Bison proposed to Mostima, who actually agreed before falling apart in a spectacular show of emotion Exusiai had thought was impossible for her; the Doctor and Amiya tore up the dance competition that broke out, but narrowly lost to Croissantwich and Angelface in the karaoke contest afterwards; Lappland admitted that she wasn’t actually in love with Texas but trying to rile her up into a duel so she could get to Exusiai the entire time, which actually got the Texas family’s most composed to go full Mafia Samurai on her ass as the Sankta and the idol looked on in a mix of horror and “omg I knew it;” and through it all, drink was had, and merry was made.

Terra was a difficult place to live in. Poverty, inequality, terror, bloodshed, fear, hatred, jealousy - they’re no less potent or prominent on its surface than any other world’s, a product of the inevitable confluence of humanity’s imperfections magnified across a barely-numerable and broadly-scattered population. With all that said, though, there was much to live for, and as Angelina and Croissant made it home and threw themselves out of their clothes for the ‘real’ celebration of the evening, none of that mattered. Tomorrow would come, or it wouldn’t, but that night was theirs in a way no other would be...

#arknights #arknights fic #croissant (arknights)#angelina (arknights)#emperor (arknights)#magallan (arknights)#texas (arknights)#sora (arknights)#exusiai (arknights)#bison (arknights)#mostima (arknights)#amiya (arknights)#how is it that writing this was faster than the last two...#i love this pair #and i wish them all the best #tbh no idea where this would go from here #but then again it's like that with most fics that people ask me to continue somehow #but uh...yeah #'ave a good'n

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autumn-foxfire · 4 years

Note

The thing i noticed when i look at dabihawks fanart n read through your expiriences with the meta part of the fandom is that a lot of people seem to lean on dabi side of the dabihawks conflict. Like its hawks who has to make changes to earn dabi. Its hawks whos turned it a villain, its hawks who forgives or even thanks dabi for what he did. Actually i dont think ive ever seen art ro read a fic (but to be fair im extremly selective in fic reading) where dabi is the one to apologise and try to earn hawks

N i think this sorta makes sense because for a lot of dabihawks shippers, dabi is probably their favorite out of the two. That also makes sense cuz hes been around longer n has appealing design so it makes sense that people would try and fit hawks around dabis narrative instead of vice versa. They find dabi more likable n more interesting so its his side they want to explore.

I feel that this is completely different for me because hawks is my no 1 best boy. Like before hawks bnha was the kind of show where i would say 'oh i like the characters but none of them are mine fav' like id say shouto, shinsou or jirou were my favs mostly based on aesthetics or recognizing pieces i usually like in characters in them, but those pieces never being strong enough for me to say this is my fav bnha character like id say izaya is my favorite durarara character or ranpo is my favorite bungo stray dogs character. And then bam. Bird Time. Like when i first saw hawks i think the most i thought was 'damn thats a cool design' but as we got more of him he very quickly became the character i loved most and wanted to see more off.

Dabi on the other hand i was never really interested in. Like he was cool n all but overall i didnt really care for him until the touya theory dropped and until dabihawks. For me hes perfectly fine, i dont dislike him or anything but i like him most when hes involved with other characters i like, like Todorokis n Hawks. Like even now after a good while on Dabihawks juice id still stay hes not my fav villain. That would probably be Toga, Geten (as little as we get of him) and honestly mr compress just for being an evil magician i need more mr compress

So the fact that hawks is my fav means that unlike ppl whos fav is dabi i focus more on how can dabi earn hawks. How can dabi get better, would he ask for help, would he quit villainy, would he apologize. And most importantly would hawks accept him back.

Makes me feel like amongst dabihawks shippers theres simply two different streams that would probably get annoyed by each others content n feel like the other is spoiling their fav character.

Like i sure as fuck get annoyed when artists i follow for dabihawks start talking about how hawks should have been a villain n how hawks is actually an evil murderer while the league has a point n is poiting out that the heroes will save only those who dont fight back. No really thats a take i heard, lets just forget muscular, mustard, moonfish, gentle, the yakuza and ALL FOR FUCKING ONE who were all arrested perfectly fine without fighting back. But of course these people dont mean saved as in arrested, forced to rexamin their own behavior and work to be better people, they mean saved as in i want my favs to be coddled and patted on the back and instantly forgiven and even told they were right all along and they are the most special a good. Geeze

I fuckin went off subject so hard this is less of an ask n more of a rant now. The only good thing about seeing all those bad takes is that every time i see one my motivation to write a dabihawks story where dabi faces concequences, and they actually have to hash the whole villain hero ideologies thing out, grows stronger

...I’m sorry, I wanted to answer this sooner but wanted to get the smaller asks out of the way first T-T

But yes! That’s been my experience when it comes to Dabihawks as well. Not many people focus on Hawks side of the conflict and instead tend to make him the agressor in the relationship when they want conflict (it always tends to be Hawks who upsets Dabi for example, or Hawks will say something insensitive towards Dabi or do something that upsets Dabi). Not many people treat them as a pair, they just tend to focus on the Dabi angst more then the Hawks angst or angst experienced by the both of them (I like to call that the Dabias and many people suffer from it in the Dabihawks shipping fandom I’ve found).

I like reading stories like this too, from time to time, but I’m just tired of all the stories or comics or fan art being Hawks the bad person in the relationship with him having to apologise and make it up to Dabi. Especially when in canon it’s Dabi that has treated Hawks pretty terribly (he almost got him killed by lying to him about when he was going to release High End and he almost killed him during the raid, meanwhile Hawks hasn’t anything as horrible towards Dabi except hold him at knife point but that was more for his own protection then to threaten Dabi).

I feel like I’m just bitching because people don’t wrote fanfiction to my specifications but you’d be grumpy too if your favourite character always gets the short end of the stick in work that is supposed to be about the pair of them being a couple.

Also don’t get me started on the stories that make Hawks “see the light” and join Dabi’s side after he maimed him, some even going far as to have him thank Dabi for what he did. It just reeks of the Dabias and I absolutely hate. Let Hawks experience trauma you cowards, especially trauma that we know was caused by the hands of dear old Dabi.

I wish more work would try to reform Dabi as a person instead of having Hawks become a villain (especially because works that usually have Hawks become a villain tend to ignore the horrifying plans the League want to commit or acknowledged them but fool themselves into thinking Hawks would actually be down for all the BS). I think it’s more interesting to see a bad person try to change, it’s why I’ve enjoyed Endeavor’s character arc despite not liking him as a character. Like sure, I don’t mind bastardization arcs too but they have to be done with character I can see it happening too and Hawks isn’t that type of person.

(In fact it’s such an interesting source of conflict that Dabi and Hawks are very resolved people. They’re not likely to change their ways for anything but I don’t really see people explore that even though it’s the perfect source for angst).

I’m so tired of villain stans who wanted Hawks to become evil (and then wanted him to validate their murder favs). I want more stories where Hawks puts his foot down and Dabi realises he wants to be a better person for him (it’s in those stories I could actually see him bonding with his family again too because right now Dabi is a man with no qualms with breaking his family apart for his revenge).

I just wished more people would let Dabi face the consequences of his actions too. Like if you’re going to make Hawks suffer for what he did (even though I roll my eyes at the thought) then Dabi who has done much worse should be suffering ten times over.

Make it make sense.

#bnha #bnha dabihawks #dabihawks #thanks for the ask!!#rant #from the both of us really XD #thegaygyrus

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thenootshoot · 4 years

Text

Professor (Sigma x Reader) Chapter 4

Triggers include:

Past abuse/mention of rape, smoking/vaping, suicidal thoughts

A week had passed since that day. You and Professor de Kuiper - er - Siebren, had grown closer. He always made sure you were okay, "accidentally" forgetting to give you an assignment or two in that time. It helped take your stress away, and you sure as hell felt a lot better than before, but you knew it wasn't over. After all, your dad still lingered in your mind.

Your mind always went back to the first incident. You didn't know it was abuse at the time though. It wasn't until you entered middle school that you realized something was wrong. You thought everyone else was dragged around their house by their hair. You thought everyone had a paddle on the wall in case they were bad. You thought everyone had to throw away or burn every drawing they made and every coloring book they owned when they didn't get perfect scores on their school work. It was all you knew, dating as far back as kindergarten. At least that's what you remember.

"Are you certain? I can bring you back something."

Why was he so damn nice to you?

"No thanks professor. I know I don't eat a lot but if I force myself to, I'll get sick." You had to force a smile. "I'd rather focus on saving enough money for a dorm. Winter will be hectic otherwise."

Siebren sighed, slightly frustrated, but he understood. "Alright (y/n). Stay safe." He then headed out to the parking lot to drive off campus for lunch.

You headed for your car. You spent a lot of time there. It was very comforting in there, especially when you were at a low. Like right now. Sure, it felt good to get stuff off your chest about your dad, but you didn't get it all out. There was so much you still needed to tell him. God why did you want to tell your professor everything? Why couldn't you just talk to the damn counselor? It's not like Siebren was able to help you. He barely knew anything about the human mind!

You grabbed your vape from the center console, taking a puff and letting the smoke fill the air around you. You hated this habit of yours, but you couldn't help it. You didn't know how else to escape. Drugs were definitely a no. Alcohol...Well, that was for the very low times. The moments you wanted to forget the next day. Smoking was what you had found useful, but you went through cigarettes so quickly and they were getting more and more expensive. Vaping. That was your comfort now.

"God dammit..." You mumbled to yourself. "Why won't you just go away?"

More smoke filled the air, and your lungs. You wanted out of this all. You'd considered this multiple times before, but right now, it was so strong. Nicotine was killing you slowly but you wanted that death to come sooner. You wanted it now. You wanted the pain to go away. You wanted the world to disappear with your memories.

More smoke.

The tears came back. Not nearly as bad as last week, but by God's name they were bad. Your body began to shake. His voice appeared in your mind. The same words over and over again. I would never hurt you baby girl. You just have to listen and do what I say. If you don't, you'll wish you were dead. And you always listened to him. You God forsaken abusive father. The only male figure in your life from the moment your mother passed until..well...until you met Siebren. Your father made sure you never had or came into contact with a male teacher. He wanted no one else to top him. He only wanted you to know him and love, no, worship him. He'd do everything he could to make it happen.

"Go away..."

That night was one you would never forget. You thought you were free. You weren't. In school, you had met a boy. He was nice to you. Nicer than your father had been. At least you thought. You gave him all your love, eventually letting his existence known in front of your dad. The rage you saw...You'll never get over that. The breaking of the bottle on your head. The feeling of the belt against your face and body. The reopening of wounds. You remember it all. But above all, you remember the gun. That gun was your savior and nightmare. You never thought you'd be held at gunpoint by your own father. Yet you had been. And when he pulled the trigger...

Your hand moved to your neck, a visible scar where the bullet had sliced you open.

That same gun is what killed your father. After shooting you, he turned the gun to himself, sticking it in his mouth and pulling the trigger without hesitation. You regret crying so much over him, but he was all you knew. You were lucky your boyfriend had been planning to sneak in the house. He was the one who found the both of you. He was the reason you were alive today. You wish he hadn't come. You went to live with him when you got out of the hospital. He was worse than your dad. The countless times you were beaten by him because you wouldn't strip. The endless pain you felt as he strapped you down on the bed, your lower half bleeding from the forced penetration.

You were only seventeen when all that happened. One day, you were watching your dad die, the next, being raped by the man you thought loved you.

You didn't realize how bad you'd been shaking until now. You couldn't even keep your vape steady enough in your hands to keep it in your mouth. Why? Why did this have to happen to you? Why couldn't you just move on?

Bzzz bzzz

You looked down to your phone, which was on the seat beside you. A caller ID was on your screen. One you were all too familiar with. You didn't dare ignore it, immediately picking up the phone and answering.

"Hi love." You cringed at how good you were at hiding your emotions from him.

"Hi baby girl. Just really missing the sound of your voice. God I wish I could just pin you to the wall and shove my di-"

"Yeah-yeah. I know." You really didn't want to hear that right now. "I miss you too. Can't wait to come home."

"You better be here for Christmas break or I'll make your ass light up, you hear?"

You gripped your baggy sweatpants to keep yourself from letting it all out. You wanted out of this. You wanted to just say it was over and move on. But you couldn't leave. You couldn't bear to see him accept the same fate your father had.

What is wrong with me?

"Yes sir. I will be at your house, ready to do as you wish."

"That's my girl. Now, can you video call? I need to see you naked so I can relieve myself of a little scratch~"

You gulped and looked at the time. "S-Sorry but the bell is going to ring in less than thirty seconds. Tonight for sure, okay? I'll do whatever you want me to."

He chuckled over the phone. "You better get ready then."

And he hung up.

That was it. You didn't want to do this. You couldn't. But you couldn't leave. God why?

"Why me?"

You looked to your phone, scrolling through your contacts. Maybe he could help. He had to be able to, right? He helped you before. I mean, he doesn't know everything but he knows enough.

You stopped on the contact "Professor de Kuiper" and tapped it. The options popped up. Call, message, video call. God did you really want to do this. He didn't even know about Derek or your father killing himself. He only knew the pain you endured growing up. The things you were forced to do. You couldn't keep this to yourself though. You only had one more quarter before break and you wanted nothing more than to stay here. You wanted to feel safe. You wanted to stay with Siebren...

"Hello? Is everything alright?"

You hadn't realized you pressed the call option.

"O-oh, um, yeah...Sorry..C-can we talk soon?" Your emotions were slipping. It was painfully obvious something was wrong.

"Of course. I'll see you in my office during your study time." He sounded relieved. Had he wanted you to talk to him?

"Thank you...I-I have to go...I'll s..see you then..." You then hung up, not giving him time to talk. You had to tell him everything...You needed to feel his arms around you again...You needed him.

_______________

"Then stay with me."

Those words played over and over again in your mind.

You had told him everything that had happened in your car. The thoughts that flowed through your mind, your father killing himself, the rape and abuse from your current boyfriend, the trapped feeling you felt, and the fear. God you emphasized your fear. You almost felt bad telling Siebren. He's probably never seen anyone so afraid in his life.

You did feel his embrace. It's where you were now, and where you had been when he offered to let you stay with him for the break. Yes, he really did say that.

"I know it is unprofessional of me, but I do fear for you. I fear if you leave, you may not come back in one piece."

You just nodded, face pressed against his chest. You could feel his chest rising and falling with each breath. You could hear each breath too. And his heartbeat. It had increased a bit since you had told him everything. Was it because he was fearful?

"I-I know...I really w...I want to..." You couldn't help the hiccups at this point. "I feel s-safe..."

"I know. Just breathe. Like we've been practicing."

You nodded and did your beast to steady your breathing. In your nose, out your mouth. You would think, after nearly five years of taking psychology classes, that you'd be better at calming yourself. Guess not.

"I'll make sure he doesn't get you. Okay?" He shifted to look down at you. "Don't answer next time he calls. If he threatens you, tell me. I'll take care of it."

You nodded, tightening your grip on Siebren. You felt him begin to rub your back in an attempt to comfort you. It worked to an extent, but nothing major. It was enough to allow control over your emotions again. You didn't know why he, of all people, was so helpful, nor did you know why he was so eager to help and comfort you, but you loved it. You loved feeling this safe. You'd never felt so safe.

"You mentioned saving for a dorm earlier today. Do you not have a place to stay on campus?" He suddenly asked.

You shook your head. "I live in my car. Jane lets me go to her dorm to shower and what not whenever I feel dirty but, that's the closest it gets for me. Being a waitress doesn't get me very far but no one else will hire me."

He let out a frustrated sigh before speaking. "I have a guest bedroom you could stay in until you save enough money. It's getting rather chilly and I don't wish to see you getting sick, especially if your car is the only place you can rest."

Why are you so nice to me?

"Oh, um, thank you professor...I appreciate it."

You didn't show it at all, but you were beyond excited. A warm house, a bed, food that wasn't three days old. It was a luxury on your part.

The bell then rang.

You looked up at your professor, a small smile on your face. You were relieved. Someone cared about you. Someone genuinely cared about you. With a bit of effort, you got up, grabbing your things as your professor began to gather his own things. You walked to the door, opening it and stepping about halfway out before stopping.

"Thank you so much Siebren. I hope I can repay you someday." You happily told him before finally leaving.

Had you stayed just a second more, you would have seen his face turn a little pink.

#siebren+de+kuiper+x+reader #sigma+x+reader #overwatch #xreader #sigmaxreader #sigma x reader #sigma overwatch #professor sigma #siebren de kuiper #siebrendekuiperxreader

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katehuntington · 4 years

Text

Title: Changes - part eight Word count: ±4800 words Summary “Changes”: Huntress Zoë Sullivan (OFC) crosses paths and swords with the Winchesters, when the brothers stumble on a case she’s already working. When complications arise, they are forced to work together. Summary part eight: Zoë meets with Terry Cliffer, or is it the shapeshifter? She tries to find out fast, but can’t prevent bullets from flying. Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures. Demon possession, supernatural creatures/entities. Smut, swearing, alcohol use/addiction. Kidnapping, mentions of torture and murder, illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks. Music: Boulevard Of Broken Dreams - Greenday. Author’s note: I couldn’t be more excited to share Supernatural: The Sullivan Series with you. There are quite a few people I want to thank: @coffee-obsessed-writer, @soupornatural & @mrswhozeewhatsis, who edited the early drafts, and my girls @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish & @winchest09 who are deciphering the recent version. Everyone who encouraged me to go for it, you are awesome!

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist 01x01 “Changes” Masterlist

Zoë sips her cappuccino as she observes the foam floating on top of her hot drink. She’s at Beetle’s, sitting on a stool at the bar. Cigarette smoke fills the air, and even though she would love to light one, she ignores the smell. Instead the huntress stares at the bottles across from the counter, exhibited on the shelves, the back wall is a mirror to create the illusion that they have a lot more drinks in store. It’s a modern kind of place, the only history it shows are some pictures, pinned to the wall. The current number one hit Boulevard of Broken Dreams by Greenday plays in the background. She listens to the lyrics, the song appealing to her. I walk this empty street, on the boulevard of broken dreams Where the city sleeps and I'm the only one and I walk alone My shadow's the only one that walks beside me My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me 'Til then I walk alone

The long nights are taking their toll. Although strangers still see a stunning young woman, she herself notices the signs of fatigue in her reflection, despite her makeup, that is a little more prominent than usual. Zoë finds it thrilling to pretend to be someone she’s not. She traded her leather biker outfit for a white blouse, a black blazer, matching suit pants and pumps. Her straightened dark hair is combed back and tied together in a bun. It’s funny, leather or business, she still gives away the same message; don’t mess with me.

Her eyes capture the bottle of Johnny Walker Red again. She would kill for a glass, but having a shot wouldn’t be a smart thing to do. Focus is the issue here; no way she’s letting her guard down. The damn bastard shot her once and she doesn’t feel like peeling a bullet out of herself for the second time today. But one glass wouldn’t hurt, right? Zoë shakes her head, deciding against it. This appointment can go two ways: either the shapeshifter shows up and this bar and its customers are going to have the most ‘exciting’ evening of their lives, or Terry Cliffer shows up and this will be nothing more than a boring interrogation. Not to mention, this case will once again take longer than anticipated, because by now, the fucker could’ve easily shifted into someone else already.

She finishes her coffee and leaves the empty cup on the bar. Carefully, she glances over her shoulder. Zoë can’t put her finger on it, but she can feel a pair of eyes burning in her back; someone’s watching her. The shapeshifter maybe? She remembers Sam’s words and realizes that even if she meets Cliffer within fifteen minutes, the son of a bitch might actually be here right now. Suddenly, she hears something sweeping towards her over the wooden bartop. Startled, she turns to the bartender, who still has his hand folded around a glass of whiskey. “You’ve been eying that Johnny Walker bottle for twenty minutes and you look really tense. You need a drink, on the house.”

She looks him in the eye, trying to decide whether or not to trust him. She smiles politely and takes the glass, but doesn’t drink, just yet. “Thank you,” she says, observing him. “You’re the owner of this place? Rob Michaels?” “That’s me,” Rob answers while he polishes a glass. We’ll see about that, Zoë thinks to herself. The bartender could be the shapeshifter, for all she knows. She needs to figure out if he is, without giving him the impression that she’s suspecting him. “Then you probably know most of your regulars, right?” she questions. “Right…” Rob hesitates. “Am I being questioned?” “Whatever you wanna call it,” she flashes him her FBI identification.

He raises his eyebrows. He thought there was something more to her than just a businesswoman who’s getting a drink after work, but a fed? He had city police over, even state police at one point, this is a new one. He leans in for her to hear his whispered words. “Something shady going on in my bar?” he asks, looking around for anything suspicious. She puts her ID away in the inside pocket of her blazer, after which she folds her hands together, ignoring his question. “What do you know about Terry Cliffer?” Rob chuckles. “Are you kidding me? Terry wouldn’t hurt a fly.” “We’re not just around to catch the bad guys, Mr. Michaels. We actually intend to prevent crimes from happening, too” she states, pretending to be insulted. “Is he in trouble?” the bar owner wonders. “I think I’m the one who’s doing the questioning here, Rob. Can I call you Rob?” Zoë grabs a hold of the conversation again, not impressed. “S-sure,” he answers, intimidated. She glances at the clock, it’s 5:55. Then she continues. “Tell me what you know.”

Zoë’s eyes are penetrating, yet calm and the bartender soon begins his story, but he doesn’t start off with anything new. Shy guy, father of two, yada yada yada. Her thoughts wander off to the whiskey bottle on the shelf again, as she partly listens. Shit, she wants that heavenly brown liquor, and she wants it bad. Although there’s a full glass in front of her, she still refuses to drink it. Zoë hasn’t actually seen him rinse the glass, nor if he poured the whiskey straight from the bottle; it could be spiked. The huntress contemplates on dragging him over the counter and cutting him; if he screams out in terror, he’s not the shifter, if he doesn’t, he is. Yeah, maybe not such a great idea, Zo, she thinks to herself. And all this time she keeps staring at the Johnny Walker Red.

“He moved into town a few years back with his family. I believe he still owns some property about a mile or three out, though. Somewhere on 110th Ave,” Rob says with a lowered voice. Suddenly there’s the sound of glass breaking. The bartender turns around and is surprised to find the bottle of whiskey in pieces on the floor. “Ah, damn it! Must have left it too close to the edge,” he mutters as he kneels down to pick up the biggest pieces of shattered glass. Startled, Zoë stares over the bar, recapturing what just happened. Did she just… Ah shit, not this again. “That’s a shame,” she comments to break the silence. “Sure is,” he agrees, but then pulls his hand back with a little screech. “Ow!” He gets up and Zoë immediately detects the bleeding cut on his finger, which causes Rob to hiss in pain. A shapeshifter wouldn’t feel a thing when being cut by glass; so much for her theory. As if she was waiting for the lights to go green on a racetrack, she puts the glass to her mouth and lets the whiskey ooze down her throat. My God, she so needed a drink.

In the meantime Rob takes off to the kitchen, probably to bandage the cut. It’s when the door closes behind him, that his last words sink in. 110th Ave! Cliffer owned land there? She quickly gets her ducks in a row. She knows O’Brien, Middleton and Gibson, the missing people, have all been at 110th Avenue over the last month, but no one actually owned a place there. This might be a major lead! Why didn’t she learn about this sooner? She has to find the exact address and pay a visit as soon as she’s done here.

As the place gets more crowded during these after work hours, Terry Cliffer walks in. Zoë straightens her back and looks over the crowd. Insecure, the guy in his mid-forties searches the place, then he carefully approaches the bar. He’s not a tall man and he seems thin. It surprises Zoë that the shapeshifter chose his body to copy in the first place. He glances behind the bar, probably looking for Rob to ask if there has been anyone around looking for him. By this time, Zoë has hopped off the bar stool and walked up to the guy. Her gun, loaded with silver bullets, hangs from her belt and burns in her flesh through the fabric of her dress pants. If he attacks, runs, or does something else that she doesn’t like, she’s going to shoot him. “Terry Cliffer?” He turns around and looks her in the eye. Not a sign of recognition. The shapeshifter would recognize her, after all, she is the one hunting him. Nothing strange, nothing out of the ordinary happens, he just puts out his hand to greet her. “Are you the FBI agent?” he assumes, carefully. “That would be me, yeah,” she takes out her federal agent identification again. “Shall we take a seat?” They move to a table in the far corner and sit down. A good spot, one she picked out the moment she walked in. From here, she has a clear view over the entire place, yet it’s private. She signals Rob, who probably took care of his little problem and is back behind his bar. In a few seconds he halts next to their table.

“What can I get you?” he takes out a pen and a small notebook. “A beer, if that’s okay?” Terry glances at the woman across from the table. “Be my guest,” she approves and looks up at Rob. “Plain water please.” “Oh, and can I get something to eat? I didn’t actually get the chance to have dinner, yet.” The last sentence was more directed to Zoë than to the bar owner, excusing himself again in that self-conscious way. “The usual?” the owner of the place asks. Terry nods. “Anything else?” Rob glances from one to the other. “No, I think we’re fine,” Zoë answers. “Okay then, coming right up.”

Rob leaves the table and finally Zoë can start her conversation. She begins with an attempt to break the ice, since Terry seems to be pretty tense. It’s not every day that you have a one-on-one with an FBI agent. “Not planning to have supper with your family?” she assumes. “Not today, my wife took the kids to their grandparents for the week, down in Preston,” Terry tells her. Good, they are safe, Zoë notes. She folds her hands together leaning on her forearms on the edge of the table, ready to start the interrogation, but Terry beats her to it. “I don’t want to be rude, but I expected to meet a man today,” he admits with a nervous laugh. “Right, I heard you talked to my partner. He called in sick,” she makes up quickly. “It was really odd, he didn’t know your name,” Terry tells her. “For a moment, I thought I was being pranked or something.”

Uh-oh. Is he suspecting something? She has to come up with something good now to keep a good impression. “I actually got married a week ago,” she lets a smile play on her lips, turning her mother’s engagement ring on her finger, drawing attention to the piece of jewelry. “I changed surnames. What can I say, he doesn’t like change.” “Congratulations!” Terry smiles back, seemingly buying it. Pfew, that was a close call. Now it’s her turn to ask some questions, because all she has been doing during the last five minutes is covering the Winchester’s fuck ups. Just as she takes a breath to begin, Rob shows up next to the table with their drinks and a cutlery set for Terry. Zoë lets out an annoyed sigh and looks away.

“One beer and plain water.” He puts down the glasses from his dinner-tray, which he holds up with his left hand. As he sets down Terry’s beer, the meat knife slips from the plate and falls, the sharp edge pointing down. Zoë looks up just in time to see the knife penetrate the hand of the man she’s about to negotiate. She almost lets out a moan of disgust, but strangely enough, Terry doesn’t even notice it until he glances at his hand. “Terry, Jesus Christ! I’m so sorry, it - it just fell off!” Rob stammers, but neither of them hear him. It’s not a silver knife, it’s stainless steel, Zoë realizes instantly. Slowly the person - no - creature, on the other side of the table lifts his head until he looks directly at her. His facial expression is no longer insecure and friendly, but self-confident and sadistic. For a brief moment his eyes flash white, as the eyes of a cat reflect when it stares into a pair of headlights.

“You son of a--” There’s no time to finish her sentence. In a split second, the shapeshifter draws his gun and Zoë is just in time to flip the metal table over on the side. She goes for her Smith & Wesson as well, as the shapeshifter backs up, causing his chair to fall over. Several people turn around to see what’s going on as Rob turns pale and steps back. Just before he unleashes a bullet on her, she shouts a warning. “Everybody on the floor!” As screams are let out by people inside the bar, the shifter fires two bullets at her, but by using the steel table as a shield, she stays unharmed. “No way you’re gonna shoot me twice, fucker,” she snarls as she aims her gun over the edge of the table and pulls the trigger. Making sure not to injure any civilians, Zoë fires three shots in a row. She’s not sure if any of them hit the target, but he’s still running. “Fuck!” she curses as the third shot shatters the glass of the front door.

Quickly, she follows and intends to run outside. Good thing she takes cover behind the doorpost as she glances around the corner, because the huntress stares right into a barrel. Just in time, she retreats and the two bullets shoot by her. Stumbling back inside, she takes a short second to catch her breath with her back against the wall and her gun tightly gripped in both hands and pointing it down. Several frightened and panicked eyes look straight at the FBI impersonator. One face stands out, Rob stares at her as if he just saw a ghost. “I hope you’ve got insurance, Rob,” she comments, out of breath from all the excitement. He nods his head, dumbfounded, unable to get a proper ‘yes’ or ‘no’ out of his mouth. “Good, have a nice evening. Sorry ‘bout the mess.” She smiles uncomfortably and gives him an awkward wave.

After gathering her courage, the huntress exits the bar. With the gun pointing ahead and her index finger off the trigger, Zoë clears the area, but there’s no one there but a bunch of thrill seekers who probably heard the gunshots. Zoë lets out a sigh and lowers her nine mil; she’s back to square one. There’s no need to follow him, he could be anywhere and anyone by now. She moves back to the small alleyway next to the bar where she parked her Harley, still expecting an ambush behind every corner. When she walks up the street, she notices a shiny fluid on the sidewalk, which catches her attention. Curious she kneels down and touches it with the tip of her finger; it’s blood. A grin appears on her face; looks like she managed to hit him after all.

When she looks further she notices a blood trail leading to a manhole in the center of the alley. The shifter left the cover off, allowing the huntress to stare down into the black depth. “Hope my bullet hurts as much as yours did, fucking lizard!” she bellows down. Zoë gets up and makes her way to the Harley, thinking through her next move and forcing herself to focus, even though the adrenaline is still rushing through her body. Terry Cliffer’s property at 110th Avenue; that is her first priority. She would bet money on it: this has to be the location of the shapeshifter’s lair.

It’s quiet in the parking lot when Zoë pulls up to the motel, but she doesn't pay much attention to the silence, determined to close this case tonight. She rushes inside while taking her helmet off, doesn’t bother to pay attention to the man behind the counter and quickly opens the door to her room. Her Macbook is still buzzing softly and as soon as she presses a key, the screen activates. She selects a tracking website from her favorites and types in the information she has. After several seconds a complete address shows: 3841 110th Avenue NW. Quickly she kicks off her pumps, changes her dress pants for jeans and her blazer for the new leather Harley Davidson jacket. As she’s lacing up her biker boots, when three loud bangs on the door startle her. Cautious, the huntress takes her gun in her left hand, finger still off the trigger, and silently approaches the door. “Mrs. Johnson! I know you’re in there!” She recognizes that voice, it’s the owner of the motel. Quickly she puts away her weapon and opens the door. The old man is waiting with a phone still in his hand, he doesn’t seem amused. “I just received a call from one of my guests who was dining at Beetle’s Bar, said he saw you shooting up the place,” he recalls. “I can explain that,” she states, calmly. “I bet you can. You know what? I’ll bet your real name isn’t even Johnson. I want you out. I said I didn’t want any trouble,” he insists, pointing down the hallway. “Just give me a sec.” She goes for her ID in her inside pocket while her other hand makes a calming gesture, then she shows it to him. “My name isn’t Johnson, you’re right. It’s Evans, Sarah Evans. I’m a federal agent and I was working undercover,” she explains. “FBI? Yeah, right. I don’t give a damn. Now, get out of my motel,” the man decides. “Alright, let me get my stuff,” she sighs, putting back her identification.

Instead of pulling back her hand empty, she grabs a small flashlight, turns it on and points it in the old man’s eyes. Her suspicion is confirmed, because his eyes flash white. For a brief moment the shapeshifter is overwhelmed by the reveal, enough time for Zoë to drop the flashlight into her striking hand, breach the space between them and slam her fist right up his nose, giving him one hell of an uppercut. He goes down in the hallway and looks up at her, staggered. “Come on. Did you really think I was gonna be that easy?” she chuckles, flipping the torch up in the air and catching it skillfully.

She grabs him by the collar and drags him inside her room, shifting the fight between four walls instead of on the corridor, not wanting innocent bystanders to get caught in the crossfire. She drops him to the ground, glaring down on him with disgust as she takes her gun from behind her waistband. The shifter clears his throat, wiping crimson red from his lip. “Actually, I did. I almost shot you twice. Reckoned this would be a piece of cake,” he gloats with a grin, after which he struggles to get on his feet, holding his hands up. “You wanna shoot me in a fully booked motel? Try to explain that to the neighbors.” Zoë narrows her eyes at him, mentally kicking herself for leaving the gun suppressor in her storage locker the last time she was there. The bastard has a point; shooting what looks like the owner of Motel 6 through the heart, will definitely draw attention. She scoffs, pursing her lips, then she takes the magazine from her weapon and lays it on the bed. “We’ll finish this the old fashioned way, then,” she agrees confidently.

They face each other, challenging. Zoë adjusts to a back stance, putting her left foot behind her and bending her knees slightly. Her hands lift up in front of her face as she flexes her fingers, ready for anything that son of a bitch is going to throw at her. “I have to say, you got me fooled. Making me believe Terry Cliffer was going to be your next dress-up party, while he actually was your first. Smart,” she admits. “If you admire me so much, why waste me?” he tests, blood dripping from his nose. She smirks at that, entertained by his arrogance. “Don’t give yourself too much credit.”

He steps towards her, but she beats him to it. In a quick move she defends, blocking his attack with her forearm and swings her back leg up with force, kicking the shifter hard against his temple. He goes down, shaking his head to ward off the black spots that are inevitably swimming in front of his eyes. When he looks up, the huntress has taken her rear foot stance again. One fist with her palm up on her hip and ready to strike, the other is ready in front of her to defend. “Gotta say, you fight pretty good for a girl,” He gets to his feet again, wiping his brow. “Or should I call you the Karate Kid?” “Oh, I’m not a kid. I’m more like a ninja,” she smirks, staring him down. “Ninja or not, you’re no match for me.”

He charges her, faster than humanly possible. Despite his supernatural speed, she dodges his jab and releases another kick, against his ribs this time. The creature locks her leg before she can retreat, however, and steps in while Zoë has lost her balance. With a fierce strike, his fist hits her in the jaw, hard. He still has a hold of her leg and twists it, forcing her on the floor, pulling a groan of agony from her as the ligaments in her knee stretch further than possible. Not giving up that easily, she pushes her left foot from the ground, using the leverage of him still holding her right leg tight to swing the other to his head, hitting him on the side of his face with her instep. He releases her and she breaks her fall, rolls, and gets up again, all in one swift movement. The arm that had a strong grip on her only seconds ago, is now twisted to the shifter’s back. Roughly, she forces him to his knees; he can't go anywhere.

“What did you do to those people?” she demands, not asking very nicely. “Oh, don’t worry, I don’t actually kill them. It’s far more fun to watch them suffer,” he responds, sadistically. “You son of a—” She doesn’t have time to finish her sentence, because the shapeshifter throws his head back and hits her hard in the teeth. Sharp pain shoots through the roots into her skull and for a moment there she’s sure he broke off a tooth or two; so much for looking fabulous. In that split second, the chameleon manages to fight free, grabs her by her arm and violently throws her over his shoulder. Zoë lands on her back, the air slamming out of her lungs. She gasps sharply, unable to catch her breath. No time to recover from the pain, though, because she receives a kick in the gut a moment after.

Losing control over the fight fast, she tries to push away from her attacker to buy herself some valuable time, but her opponent takes the liberty to help her up, forcing her to stand by pulling her hair, before she suffers a blow in the chest with a strength that exceeds that of a human being. The huntress slams into the table, the edge bruising her lower back, feeling the tight grip of the shifter's hands on her throat when he roughly pushes her into the wooden surface. With a devilish grin on his thin lips, he chokes her, clearly enjoying the display: how his victim fights for air, trying to pull in desperate breaths as he crushes her throat under his fingers.

“You know what I do to them? I keep them somewhere safe, safe from the world, where no one can find them,” he tells her, his speech eerily slow, as if he’s reading a chapter of a horror novel. Zoë glances aside briefly. Although she can’t move her head, she notices the empty whiskey bottle she and Dean left last night, still laying on its side in the window sill. She reaches out, almost touching the glass, but the bottle remains out of reach by an inch or two. The shapeshifter laughs at her attempt and continues his story, as if he has all the time in the world to tell it. “Humans are such strange creatures, you know? If you keep them together in a tiny cage for a while, they tend to behave like spiders. They attack each other, eventually kill and actually eat their own kind out of pure desperation. How amusing is that?”

Zoë can’t hold back a gag, but forces herself to concentrate on the bottle. It vibrates almost unnoticeable, then the bottleneck turns towards her slightly. Focus, Zo! You can do this! She sends all her energy through her stretched out arm towards the nerve endings on her fingertips. It works, because the bottle flies into her hand. With an unexpected strike Zoë breaks the bottle on the shifter’s head, who stumbles back, finally letting go of her neck. Trying to suck oxygen down her painful windpipe, she coughs uncontrollably. Alright, that’s enough. A fair fight seems noble and all, but having a face off with a supernatural being, might not have been one of her smartest ideas. The huntress reaches for her gun and takes the magazine from the bed, swings around, aiming at… nothing? The room is empty. “Fuck, not again,” she curses, bummed that she can’t put twenty years of jujitzu training in good use because of the runner.

Before bolting out the door, the experienced huntress glances both ways down the hallway, her gun ready. Shit. No sign of the shifter. She lets out a frustrated sigh and moves in, rolling her tongue over her straight teeth in the meantime, checking if they got chipped after the nasty headbutt she received. When she clears the foyer, she is surprised to find the real motel owner, tied up to a chair in nothing more than a shirt and trunks, his mouth taped. “Are you alright?” she asks, as he ‘hmm’s’ loudly. In a quick movement she rips the tape from his mouth, unleashing a rant of curses and shouts. “Ouch! That son of a bitch! Where is he?! Where is that bastard who did this to me?! I’m gonna kill him! I swear, I’m gonna--”

Zoë stares at him for a moment, feeling a headache coming on, then grabs the roll of duct tape from the counter. While the manager keeps on raging, she rips off a piece of tape and presses it over his mouth. There is no way in the world she’s gonna release the pissed off elder; he needs some cooling down time. Casually she picks up the phone and for a moment considers dialling 911, but decides this isn’t really that much of an emergency and calls the local police. “Hello? Yeah, hi. I just found an old guy tied up to a chair in not much more than his undies… Motel 6, 2107 Highway 52 North... My name? Yeah, it’s Not Interested.” She hangs up and clears her throat, wiping her prints from the horn, then walks away, bored, with the roll of duct tape in her hand, leaving the furiously moaning motel owner behind the counter.

Back in her room, she gathers her things and stuffs them in two duffels, which fit into the two big leather saddlebags on her Harley perfectly. She makes quick work of getting rid of all the evidence, including the glass she shattered on the shifter’s head. With both bags on her shoulder, she takes a last look around and leaves the room, waving at the motel manager on her way out while hiding her face from the security camera. The cover of the manhole in the center of the parking lot is removed; her shifter went underground again. He's running back to his hideout, only he doesn't know that she knows exactly where that is. “3841 110th Avenue Northwest,” she mumbles to herself as she gets on her bike and puts the helmet on her head.

That’s where she’s going, that’s where this is going to end. The Harley engine roars loudly when she accelerates. Its back tire spins for a moment before the motorbike takes off as the evening sets in. This is going to be her last night in Rochester and his last night on the face of the earth. Zoë is determined: this hunt ends tonight.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work or buy me coffee (Link in bio at the top of the page).

Read part nine here

The Sullivan Series tags: @a-gir1-has-n0-name @destielhoneybee @fookinghelljensensthighs @idksupernatural @laphirablack @magssteenkamp

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dariodanoite · 4 years

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sting like a beamer | alain & dario

LOCATION: garage babineaux. PARTIES: @carbrakes-and-stakes and @dariodanoite. SUMMARY: dario gets a job from an old...friend?

Dario was careful to make sure he’d be on time for his meeting with Alain, knowing he really needed to get another job if he wasn’t going to be begging on the streets anytime soon. Sure, he had the tattoo shop, but minimum wage with just one job wasn’t exactly enough to keep him afloat when he’d come back into this world with nothing. Beyond that, though- he was anxious to see Alain again. Would he look the same? Dario himself had grown a few inches while he’d been missing after it was widely assumed his whole family had been murdered, their house burned to the ground. It had Hunters written all over it to the trained eye. Beyond his extra height, he’d filled out a bit more as well, no longer a lanky seventeen-year-old, but a fully grown man. Now, he waltzed into the office of the garage in an attempt to find his old mentor, nostalgia practically smacking him in the face. There hadn’t been all that many places in White Crest filled with strong enough memories to give him any sort of reaction that came close. After all, he’d only lived here for a year before everything went to shit. But he went up to the attendant working the desk, simply saying. “Is Alain here? I had an appointment with him about the mechanic job.” Would Alain even remember him? It’d been thirteen years, and he’d just been a single snobby kid all that time ago. Maybe this was a bad idea.

Alain was almost done repairing yet another windshield when he heard his name told. It was just him and his colleague at the counter and so the garage was almost quiet, which happened rarely enough to be noted. An eyebrow raising, it took him a second to remember the appointment he had with the kid. Alright, maybe it was not a kid, he corrected himself as he took a look at the guy standing in the entrance. “C’est quoi ce bordel,” he had a confused look on his face as he approached him. What was his name again? It had been God knows how many years but he knew he’d seen this guy before. Even if Alain was used to people disappearing, he remembered that when Dario -there was the name- went missing, the whole town talked about it. “Well you haven’t changed one bit,” he looked up at him and held up his hand. “Don’t stay here, come in,” he pointed at the front door, as if to tell his employee to close for lunch break, and walked toward a car which already had the hood opened up.

As Alain came into view, another sharp wave of memories hit Dario. In truth, he hadn’t thought all that much about his time here in White Crest since he’d been back. And perhaps...that had been for good reason. He didn’t need a reminder of all the things he’d lost. Nevertheless, he couldn’t deny that he was happy to see Alain. Someone who’d known him before- certainly it might be validation with the state that he was alive, but...perhaps it was also simply a reminder to Dario that he hadn’t died all those years ago. “You still speaking French when you know damn well know one can understand it?” he asked with the beginnings of a grin, perhaps the first one he’d granted to anyone since being human once more. Relief washed over him. Alain did remember him. “Well- I’m taller. Wish I could say the same for you.” In only moments, it seemed Dario had fallen back into something closer to what he’d been before his days as a jaguar, poking some fun at Alain. But he followed after the other man, eyes looking over the car that was in front of him.

“Je vois pas le problème,” Alain replied, raising an eyebrow. It was common for the mechanic to speak to himself in French as he worked, and he exclusively cursed in French if he happened to pinch his fingers while working on an engine. “You are taller, yes,” he deadpanned as he heard the comment on his own height. Well that was certainly original. “You could have learned new jokes while you were away,” he drily replied, crossing his arms over his chest. “Alright. Can you tell me what’s wrong with this car?” There weren’t many ways to know that, and Alain figured that his first question wouldn’t be too hard. What he was most interested in was to see if he could fix that quickly enough. It wasn’t much work and could be done in less than an hour.

Perhaps in a bit of a teasing and stubborn tone, Dario simply replied, “Dois podem jogar esse jogo.” Alain could have a taste of his own medicine, not that Dario actually minded all that much when the older man babbled in his French. But he’d always enjoyed poking some fun at the mechanic. “My jokes are fine as they are.” The hint of a smile was still on his lips, the rush of having someone even somewhat familiar to talk with still filling him with that grain of excitement. But as Alain asked about the car, he grew more focused, knowing he needed this job. Otherwise- he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t end up sleeping on a street corner someday soon. “Definitely. You want me to just do it, yes? Fix it?” Part of him was itching to get to work, missing the feeling of fixing a car and doing something with his hands.

Lucky for you, I was forced to study latin, and understood mostly everything, Alain thought to himself, closing his eyes in despair. Did he really want this smartass back in his garage? His arms still firmly crossed over his chest, he shook his head as Dario declared that his jokes were good enough for now. Well maybe Alain had a shitty sense of humor then. He had already been told that it was an acquired taste, after all. “Well enough jokes, get to work,” he motioned toward the car with his chin, a stern look on his face. Dario might have been a nice kid, Alain didn’t want a clown in his shop. He had a reputation to maintain and old times’ sake was not going to count in Dario’s application. “Do you really want me to answer this question?” He drily replied, heading to the workbench to pick up his cup of coffee and sitting down on a stool for now. “Maybe you could start by trying to turn the engine on?” You could tell from his tone that he was slightly annoyed.

Perhaps Dario should cool it with his jokes, but he’d simply been so excited to see a familiar face. There weren’t many familiar faces left in his life anymore. He was somewhat surprised Alain didn’t seem phased by him being missing for thirteen years, or his family being murdered and their house being burned but….not entirely shocked that Alain was focused on more important things. That was the past. This was now. At least- that had been the method Dario was trying to employ as for late. “Just making sure, Alain,” Dario said back with more of a relaxed air than he’d had as of late. He was much changed in demeanor from his seventeen-year-old- self, quieter and not nearly as vibrant, but parts of him were still here. Nevertheless, he began the process of diagnosing exactly what was wrong with the car, his hands remembering the process of their own accord.

Alain looked at his former apprentice with a stern look on his face. You could see the fondness in his eyes if you were attentive, but now was not the time for this. He stood up from his stool after a certain time, to get a better look of Dario’s look. If it seemed at moments that it had been a while since he had been around a car, Alain figured that it was due to stress, and whatever backstory that led Dario to disappear for a decade. “Well, I’ll probably have to stay around you when you work for the first week or so,” he said once Dario was done both confirming that he had a job, and telling him that he would have to work hard to keep said job.

As he finished up, Dario wiped the grease from his hands on a dirty rag as best he could. He’d enjoyed fixing the car, realizing there were some gaps in his knowledge. But hopefully that’d come back soon enough with the rest of the things he’d forgotten. Spending thirteen years as a jaguar did some strange things to the mind, and the memories he found foggiest were the ones that came just before his family’s untimely demise, and the year surrounding it. Apart from those momentary struggles though, he’d loved the feeling of a car underneath his hand once more, the way working on it had taken up most of his mind, not letting him think about some things he’d rather forget. It was a momentary respite. The grin Alain got in response was probably one of the widest he’d felt since turning back to human, mixed with utter relief. Maybe he’d be able to get out of the garage the strange cat lady had let him stay in for now sooner rather than later. “Thank you,” he said, with perhaps more sincerity than he’d ever given to Alain, desperation making him eternally grateful. “You won’t regret it.. And I meant what I said like- online about- paying me in food or something if that’s more legal or now. Or whatever.”

Approaching the car, Alain rubbed at his jawline. He had a look at the boy, or should he say the man’s work, and while it had taken him a bit longer than it should have, it was a job well done. There was no reason that he would not improve if given the chance, and a little push in the right direction. Since Alain had already had plans of taking an apprentice, this would not be much different, and he was certain that Dario would learn a lot more quickly than anyone else. “I would feel terribly uncomfortable paying you in food,” he gave his new mechanic a pat on the arm and asked him to follow him to the register. Putting what would be worth one week of paycheck in an envelope, the hunter handed it over to Dario, without a word. He would have to replace it later with cash he kept at home, but this seemed like a more than ideal solution for now. “We can sign your contract later, when you get your ID back.” The man paused, sighing. “You spoke to the guy I told you about ? Winston?”

It seemed that Dario’s gratitude wouldn’t end as he followed Alain to the register, and he held the envelope the older man had handed him with a slight reverence. He had a job. A way to have some sort of income. Did this mean he wouldn’t have to eat only ramen for every meal? Well- he might still have to. He needed to pay the strange cat lady that had let him live in her garage something in the way of rent, most likely. But either way, it felt like an enormous weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He wasn’t rich, but he had a means of surviving. A simple nod was what he gave Alain when it came to contract terms, unable to form words for a moment because of the sheer amount of gratitude coursing through his veins. “Yes- yes he said- something about my immigration papers. Or records. They took my fingerprints so- they might be able to prove I’m me with those. But...really...I don’t know how to thank you, Alain.” It seemed that he’d been humbled from the sarcastic man that had walked in here an hour or so ago. “And I mean it when I said you won’t regret it.”

“Oh ? That’s… that’s pretty good for you,” patting the man on the side of the arm, Alain gave him his brightest smile so far. It was not often that life rewarded kind people, and to see that Dario’s troubles would come to an halt (maybe not an end), soon, was making him feel really happy, right now. “I’m… That’s great,” he repeated. The mechanic had, since the moment he offered Dario to come here, been worried about how this all would end, and to know that maybe this would not end terribly, was a relief. Now time would tell whether Dario would become a proper employee, although he was not worried. Back then, he learned fastly and always showed interest for what he was taught. This would be fine. He had good hopes.

#chatzy #ch:alain #sting like a beamer

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idreamofhazel · 5 years

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The Boyking: Chapter 5

Masterpost

Characters/pairings: Dean, Bobby, Ash, Jo, Castiel; Dallas, Sam, Ruby (we’ve got a whole ensemble this chapter!)

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: This story is overall angsty. Read the masterpost description to get the full idea. I will put specific, important warnings on each chapter unless there are none.

A/N: Thank you all for your patience as I continue working on this story <3

At noon the next day, a rusted 1971 C10 pulled up in front of Bobby’s house - like most of the vehicles on Bobby’s lot, it had seen better days.

Bobby stepped out on his front porch, Dean trailing behind him. Bobby hollered across the front lot as the passengers opened their doors. “That truck made it here from Nebraska?”

Ash and Jo stepped out of the cab, Jo from the driver’s side.

Ash shut his door and gave the orange-tinged turquoise hood a couple of good pats. “This baby here would take us anywhere. I’ve added a few of my own enhancements.”

“He means we,” Jo said, coming up to the porch to hug Bobby. “And I put a full tank of gas in her as soon as I got your call last night.”

The two quickly embraced. When they had finished, Jo turned to Dean and simply said, “Hey.”

Dean replied with an uncomfortable smile.

Ash came up onto the porch hugging a large file to his chest, most of it hidden underneath one side of his unbuttoned cut-off flannel. He carefully looked around the lot before whispering, “We need to talk... inside.”

Bobby raised his brows at Dean, who mirrored the expression as he opened the front door to let the guests in.

Dean took their small duffel bags and placed them down the hall as they gathered in the sitting room, Bobby offering refreshments for the travelers. He came out of the kitchen with a couple glasses of water as Dean came back to the sitting room.

Dean grabbed Bobby’s desk chair, pulled it close to the coffee table, and sat down. “So, Ash, what’ve you found?”

Ash dropped the file onto the table with a loud slam then opened it somewhere in the middle. He took a paper-clipped stack of pages out of the pile and slid it to Bobby. “Lightning patterns.” Then he took another set of notebook pages stapled together, handing them to Dean. “Other abnormal weather patterns.”

And then he took out another stack of pages and dropped them in front of himself. “And last but not least, unexplainable events.”

“What kind of events?” Dean asked.

“A whole fishing crew in Alaska went blind, for starters,” Ash said, pulling another set of papers out of the file. “I’ve made notes on patterns of events, possible connections. It seems like demonic activity to me.”

Dean coughed and shifted in his seat. He had been ruminating on how he would break the news to them. Maybe if they were already guessing that something big was brewing, they wouldn’t be so surprised when he dropped the news. He felt he had taken it rather well but he was used to dealing with Sam’s… position, all things considered.

“What do you guys think this all means?” he asked, testing the waters.

Ash looked Dean in the eyes, pointing roughly to his folder. “A war is coming. Hell is brewing something, and it ain’t no Miller Lite.”

Dean could feel Bobby’s heavy gaze on him, not so gently prompting him to go on and spill the news.

He spoke hesitantly. “Look, I may-- I may know what’s going on.”

“It’s him, isn’t it?” Jo’s tone was harsh, and she stared hard at Dean, her jaw pulled tight.

Dean’s phone rang before he could answer. He looked at the caller ID and stood. “Sorry, give me a second.” He answered the phone as he walked into the kitchen. “Hey, Cas, what’s up?”

“Where are you?” the angel asked brusquely.

“I’m at Bobby’s, why?”

Castiel sighed. “Ok. I’ll see you in a second.”

“What--” Dean said, but the angel had already hung up. No sooner had he put his phone back in his pocket, a knock came from the front door.

Bobby, Ash, and Jo all stood, ready to draw their weapons.

Dean emerged from the kitchen with his hands up, signaling to them to relax. “I think it’s Cas.”

Dean walked through the house to the front door, peeping through the window. When he saw his trench-coat wearing friend, he opened the door.

“Hey what’s going--”

Castiel walked straight through the door, almost running into Dean as he did so. He pulled a jar of blood out from under his coat and unscrewed the lid. He dipped three fingers in and began drawing a sigil by the door.

“You mind telling me why you’re redecorating my house?” Bobby asked, suddenly in the foyer.

“Warding,” Castiel stated, and that was the only response they got.

They stood around watching and waiting for a good ten or fifteen minutes, Castiel continuing his tasks until he had at least one sigil by each potential entry point on the first floor.

When he had finished, he came into the sitting room with the rest of them and handed the jar to Bobby. “Touch them up every few days.”

Bobby set the jar down on a table. “You mind telling us what’s going on?”

“You mind telling us who you are?” Jo asked, irritated.

“My name is Castiel, I’m an angel of the Lord, and I need to speak to Dean about an important, urgent matter,” Castiel stated plainly.

“Sweet fancy Moses,” Ash exclaimed. “We’re meeting a real live angel?”

“What the hell, Dean?!” Jo exclaimed. “I thought you said they were dangerous!”

Dean now getting exasperated, ran a hand over his face, hoping his nerves weren’t showing. He didn’t want to drop the news now, in the middle of a surprise visit, but by the looks on their faces, they - Jo especially - wouldn’t stay much longer without an explanation.

“Okay, just, chill, okay? This one is good, I promise. I’ll explain more later, but you’re right. Something big is happening. It’s uh… it’s the apocalypse.”

Jo looked horrified while Ash appeared as if a light bulb had gone off in his head.

“So it is him?” Jo asked, a new, more hostile anger forming on her face.

“Dean,” Castiel warned. “I don’t have unlimited amounts of time.”

“Ok, ok, just, hang on a second. Bobby, will you explain things to them, just give me a couple of minutes?”

Bobby nodded solemnly, allowing Dean to turn around and face Castiel. Only a few things made the angel this impatient and insensitive, and Dean wasn’t necessarily in a hurry to find out the reason behind his behavior this time.

“Is there a good place to talk?” Castiel asked.

Dean nodded. “Follow me.”

Ash’s excited questions to Bobby and Jo’s angry remarks faded as Dean led Castiel through the house to the basement door, down the stairs, and into Bobby’s homemade panic room. Dean opened the thick, metal door and stepped aside to let Castiel in.

With the door shut and sealed, Dean looked to his friend. “What the hell, Cas? I haven’t seen you in weeks.”

“I know,” Cas said empathetically before his tone returned to one of business. “So I take it you went to see Sam?”

“Yeah. Wish I would’ve known a little more before going in,” Dean said pointedly.

“What did Sam say about the apocalypse?” Castiel asked.

Dean studied the angel’s curious face, making note of the intensity he had tried to hide in his question - and why was Castiel asking him this question?

“Cas, you know I trust you but-- I don’t trust your family. I need to know what’s going on with you first.”

Castiel seemed to consider Dean’s position for a moment before responding, and decided Dean was right. “I’ve been doing various assignments for heaven, mostly surveillance. But now I have the task of tracking down whoever stole an angel blade that was being kept here on earth. I believe you knew the owner, Bela Talbot.”

Dean’s eyes flashed with recognition. He remembered Bela clearly, and it made sense she’d have such a rare, valuable item in her collection.

“Yeah, but what’s the big deal about an angel blade stolen off a black market dealer? I think we have bigger things to worry about.”

“It’s more about who stole it and why than what they stole. My higher ups seem to think it's all connected.”

Dean nodded. “And Bela?”

“Missing.”

“Damn.” Dean began shaking his head, pacing a little. He wouldn’t say he had liked the woman, but he had appreciated her unique set of skills even if they had been used against him. And he had been relieved when Sam nullified the contract on her soul, something about reforming rules for minors, or whatever. It would suck for all that to happen just to have her killed a few years later.

“I would like you to help me find her, and possibly find who stole the artifact,” Castiel said, interrupting Dean’s train of thought.

Dean stood in place, thinking of Dallas being alone in Hell, wondering if she could wait a couple more days. She was, of course, a free agent; she could leave without speaking to Dean, and he would not stop her, but it was Sam he was worried about. He needed to know if Sam would keep his word.

“Something is troubling you,” Castiel stated.

Dean returned to reality. “No, I just have something I need to do. I’ll tell you what-- I’ll go with you today, but I have to talk to Sam again sometime tomorrow.”

Castiel hesitated before answering. “I’ll do my best to return you in time,” he finally said.

Back upstairs, Dean could hear Jo angrily talking with Bobby as he approached the sitting room door. When he entered the room, all talking stopped as they each looked at him, expecting answers.

“Something just came up. I have to leave to help Cas. It should only take a couple of days.”

“You’re leaving without explaining yourself?” Jo asked angrily.

“Apocalypse business. Sorry. I’ll catch up to you later this week and explain, I promise,” Dean said. “I’ll come to the roadhouse.

“You better,” she said. “Your chances of getting help are slim anyay.” She walked past Dean, moving her shoulder just in time to avoid hitting him, and walked out the door.

Ash gave Dean and Bobby an apologetic look. “Guess we’re not hanging around, sorry Bobby.”

The old man shrugged. “I expected worse.”

Ash chuckled. “Anything else you want me to look at, Dean?”

“Yeah, do me a favor and keep an eye on those events, eye witness accounts would be great if we can get them.”

Ash nodded. “Will do. We hear lots of stories at the Roadhouse, shouldn’t be too hard. Oh and Dean?”

“Yeah.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about Jo. You know how she is.”

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, you’ve got a point. I think I’m more worried about her mother.”

Ash just laughed and patted Dean on the shoulder as he walked out.

Dallas sat cross legged on the four-poster bed, spinning a fire stoker that she grabbed off the fireplace at the other end of the room. She had been waiting for a stray demon to break into her room but sadly, none had been so brave. She stopped spinning the stoker, sighing before looking over the expanse of the bed. It was bigger than any bed she had slept on before; the whole room was luxurious, opulent even, compared to her usual accommodations. Curious about the size of the bed, she reached over to her right to set the stoker on the bedside table. She then scooted a little towards the foot of the bed, laid down, and stretched her arms and legs out like star. She couldn’t reach the edges.

She heard knocking at the door and startled back up into a sitting position. She grabbed the stoker, hopped off the bed, and stood, ready to fight as she called out, “Who is it?”

She was surprised to see Sam Winchester as the door opened. “I hope I’m not intruding.”

A list of painful, terrifying things that Sam could be planning ran through her mind quickly before she focused back on the present. “This is your… castle, or whatever.”

Sam now stood just a few feet from her. “It’s more of a kingdom really, and you’re a guest, so I’ll knock before entering.”

Dallas squinted at Sam, confused, gripping the stoker tighter.

Noticing the weapon in her hand, he took a step back and put up his hands. “I came to talk. I don’t have anything on me.” He slowly turned in a circle, showing her empty hiding places for weapons.

“Something tells me you don’t need them,” Dallas said.

“Well, yes, there’s that. You don’t happen to have psychic abilities do you?”

Dallas made a humorous scoffing sound. “Full, red-blooded human here.”

Sam nodded, noticing the veiled insult. “Well, I came here to tell you not to go wandering around. For your own safety,” he said.

“My safety?” Dallas repeated, contempt floating under her words.

“Speaking hunter to hunter--”

Dallas made another scoffing sound which Sam chose to ignore before continuing.

“You know demons don’t like hunters. And you know demons can be… impulsive. So, I think it’s best for you to only go out when escorted by myself or Ruby.”

Dallas looked him up and down, sat the stoker onto the table, then crossed her arms. “Your demons don’t know I’m here, do they? And I bet they didn’t know Dean was here, either. Because the only other option I’m hearing is that your demons don’t listen to your orders.”

The corner of Sam’s mouth turned up again. “I can tell you’ve got good instincts.”

“I don’t need compliments from you.”

Sam tilted his chin and grit his teeth, his jaw flexing as he tried to keep his annoyance in check. “Right. Well, that’s all I wanted to say. Do you need anything?”

“No,” Dallas said quickly, but her stomach betrayed her, the growl echoing against the stone walls.

“I’ll have Ruby bring you dinner. Anything else?” Sam asked.

“I--” Dallas had thought to ask the whereabouts of her bag but stopped herself. “No, I don’t think so.”

Dallas didn’t like the way Sam waited, watching her with a look in his eyes as if he knew she had meant to say something else, as if he were reading her mind. She thought of what food she wanted instead.

“Well, if you do think of anything, let Ruby know,” Sam said before turning away and leaving.

This time, the door shut with force, and Dallas smiled at the small victory of annoying the King of Hell. She was beginning to see the cracks in Sam’s façade already.

But as much as dinner sounded tempting, she wasn’t about to wait around to be checked on again - Sam left the door to her suite unlocked, and Dallas wanted to take a look around Hell.

She opened her door into a dimly lit hall that extended out into darkness on either side. She took a left, figuring that direction was as good as any. As she passed lit torches perched along stone walls, Dallas wondered why Hell hadn’t invested in better lighting. It was near impossible to see far enough in front of herself to know if anyone were coming.

Dallas slowed her walk, opting to use her sense of hearing over her sight, but the halls of hell were eerily quiet. She expected distant echoes of tortured screams, chains rattling against stone, and cracks of whips, maybe the rush of fire as well. But she only heard the scuffing of her own boots against rock flooring. She didn’t smell anything, either. Now that was the biggest surprise. She did smell smoke as she passed more torches on the walls, taking a right down another passage, but she didn’t smell burning, rotting flesh. Honestly, Hell was underwhelming.

She came across an interesting door, stopping in front of it with a satisfied smile on her face. It was a bit taller and wider than the one to her room, and the whole thing was metal instead of wood. She noticed an unusual symbol on the large doorknob and she reached her hand out to pull open the door but was yanked backwards by someone grabbing her shirt from behind.

“Where do you think you’re going!?” Ruby growled, stepping in front of her and slamming her against a wall.

Dallas kept her head from smacking against the stone, and when she had gathered her bearings, she blew some of her hair out of face. “Ah, just the demon I wanted to see,” she said, smirking.

Ruby grabbed Dallas’ arm tightly, dragging her down the hall.

“I’ll go willingly,” Dallas said, but Ruby didn’t lighten her grip.

“I can take it from here.”

It was Sam’s voice coming from close behind, and Ruby ground to a halt, seemingly genuinely surprised as his form left the shadows and came into the light.

“I caught her wandering around,” Ruby spat, shoving Dallas forward.

“I know. She hasn’t been seen by anyone but me,” Sam stated.

Dallas squinted, immediately suspicious of Sam. Had he been following her?

“Maybe we should keep a lock on the door,” Ruby said.

“That won’t be necessary. But since we’re all here, Dallas, you might as well tell Ruby what you want to eat.”

Dallas had expected Sam to read her mind earlier, so she was oddly disappointed that she had to say what she wanted. She thought for a second, then said, “I’d like some tacos.”

She waited for a reaction in Sam, one that revealed he had expected her order, but if he knew, he made no indication of it.

He looked at Ruby. “Go. I’ll take her back to her room.”

Ruby stayed silent this time but made sure to show Sam how much she hated being an errand girl by the glare on her face before leaving. Dallas was already sick of Ruby’s attitude; she wondered how Sam didn’t snap at her every time they spoke.

“Follow me, and stay close,” Sam said.

You wish, Dallas thought to herself as she followed Sam back out into the halls. It didn’t take long to reach her room. Dallas kept track of the turns Sam took, making note of every unique crack in a wall or a stone with out of place that could act as landmarks. When they stopped in front of her door again, Dallas was sure she could find her way back to her room by herself if... when… she went exploring again.

Sam came inside with her after he’d gestured for her to enter first. She could sense his annoyance. She stood, watching as he closed the door, waiting for the lecture.

“Why would you go wandering around?” Sam said.

Ah, there’s the impatience, Dallas thought to herself. She stood smug as she watched Sam become increasingly exasperated.

“Well?” he added.

“Why do you think I owe you an answer?” Dallas finally said.

“I guess you don’t,” Sam calmly stated. “But it’s your life on the line.”

“Why do you even want me here if your demons will kill me on sight?”

Sam studied her a moment before answering. “Well I guess now is as good a time as any to ask you my questions, I had hoped for a less hostile setting, but I’m sure you have things to get back to.”

“Wait, you actually want to sit and chat?”

“Well… yes. That’s what I said before.”

Dallas almost couldn't believe her luck - this could be the first step in reaching her goal. But maybe keeping him off-balance was the better play. "I think you're right. This isn't a good time."

“No?”

“No. I’m hungry. And Ruby will be coming back soon. And there is actually something else I need.”

“Ok. What is it?”

“I had a bag with me when Ruby kidnapped me. I would like it back, then I’ll sit down and talk with you.”

“I should be able to have her pick it up while she’s out now. I’m sure she knows where it is,” Sam said.

“Perfect.” Dallas smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

Sam stood silent; he appeared as if he didn’t know what else to say but didn’t want to leave the room quite yet. Dallas drummed her fingers on her crossed arms, watching him say and do nothing.

“Well,” he finally said, “I guess I’ll leave you alone for the evening. Goodnight.”

Dallas raised her eyebrows in response, and Sam took the cue to leave.

Readers list:

Everything: @lostnliterature @french-the-llama @shamelesslydean @akshi8278 @amanda-teaches @angelus320 @atc74 @authoressskr @bambi95-blog @because-imma-lady-assface @blanketmadeofstarss-blog-blog @brewsthespirit-blog @britney8793 @calaofnoldor @cutedictionary @ellen-reincarnated1967 @emoryhemsworth @feelmyroarrrr @frenchybell @growningupgeek @gryffindorable713 @hanginwithmanerds @holyfuckloueh @impala-dreamer @its-not-candy @jayankles @jesspfly @luciisthebest @megansescape @mereka18 @mjdoc90 @mogaruke @moonlitskinwalker @mrswhozeewhatsis @pizza-boy-cas @sadist-fangirl23 @sea040561 @seenashwrite @serienjunkiegirl @sis-tafics @skybinx-blog @super-not-naturall @tennesseewhiskey-and-pie @there-must-be-a-lock @un-autor-anonim @wingedcatninja @wordstothewisereaders @just-another-busyfangirl @ericaprice2008 @immafangirlmess

The Boyking: @wildfirewinchester @babypieandwhiskey @butiaintgonnaloveem @just-a-normal-eccentric @justballoonfishthings @purplecatterpiller @seljepw @oneshoeshort @wendibird

#supernatural fanfiction #boyking!sam #boyking!au #sam winchester angst #the boyking

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straykidmagines · 5 years

Note

could i request 10 with Hyunjin please💓💓

➫ note: i lied. i made this a little, teenie, tiny, bit¿ angst and cliche heheh :D i swear the ending is fluffy — i hope （＞~＜;） enjoyyyeeu!! ( i can rewrite it to a fluffier ver. if u want tho!! )

↳ … this is for those who keep yearning love from others they cannot grasp to, you just have to turn to you right side to find your mr. right!! （＞ｙ＜）

masterlist ¦ #10 ❝ stop ignoring meeeee ❞

[00:00] “hey jinnie! did you know that — ” hyunjin closed his eyes, pretending he didn’t hear anything you said about your crush that you have been telling him 24/7 that he wouldn’t be surprised if he already knew their schedule or routine.

it has always been like that when you approach him — he thought that you will give him a tight hug and tell him for the nth time of that day that you missed him even though you haven’t seen him for just an hour, just like the old times — but when you came across with your newest crush, you’ve been babbling about them nonstop and it annoys the hell out of him.

sometimes he just wished that he didn’t like you so he could just shout “shut up for fuck’s sake!” at you and strut away but guess what, he really can’t. his heart would break his best friend, so he would rather endure this torture — hearing someone he likes talk about who they like, that isn’t him.

“hello hyunjin! are you listening at me?” you wave your hands at his face that’s been blankly staring at the plain white wall, this made him jump up and clasp his hands on his chest, heavily panting.

“holy sticks you scared me y/n!” hyunjin exclaimed, inhaling and exhaling soundly before sinking himself deeper into the couch.

you stuck your tongue out at him playfully and said, “well you’re not listening at me,” you then wrapped your arms around his left forearm, and continued your tale about how wonderful your first eye contact with your crush is.

the skin contact made the boy blush — not that you haven’t done that — actually you did, a lot of times already but hyunjin never fails to get flustered every time especially when you initiate it.

“and so yeah! that happened, do you understand why i like them now, right?” you lifted up your head to see him dozing off, you grumbled and muttered curses on how you didn’t remember your tea being a child’s bedtime story.

“hyun. jin. nie.” you poked his cheeks for every syllable, attempting to wake his sleeping figure but he swatted your hands away and whined, still asleep.

you frowned at this, “he always ignores me,” you said, specifically to no one. you decided to snuggle on his arm which is still in yours, wrapped around and closed your eyes, taking a nap of your own as well.

the next day went blur. hyunjin won’t give you any signs that he is interested in talking to you, assuming you’ll talk about them again and you were sad about this. “stop ignore meeeee,” you whine, shaking him but he pretended he didn’t felt anything. “heyyy hyunjiniee wh—”

“just leave me for a moment, y/n, i’m not in the mood,” he cut you off and shrugged you off him and walked off to somewhere. you were left there on the sidewalk, staring at his disappearing figure marching away from you.

‘what did i do?’ you asked yourself, lips trembling as tears threatened to fall from your eyes. ‘great i just lost my best friend,’

at night, hyunjin didn’t expected anyone calling him especially it’s already 2:00AM in the morning. he was about to end the call, thinking it was just his crack head friends trying to disturb him but when he saw the caller id, his heart dropped. it was you.

he didn’t hesitate to answer you, even though he’s still trying to ignore you. heck, he missed you — you know, it is really painful to ignore you the whole day, it’s a good thing he’s already used to the feeling of being broken.

he was about to ramble and bombard you with apologies about what he acted at you yesterday but what surprised him was hearing your sniffs and cries on the other line. his heart ached even more.

did he cause this? damn he felt really guilty about this and just told you, “i’m coming over, open your window,” then straight out left his house and marched over to yours.

he saw your open window and hoped into it, he hurriedly went by your side seeing you brawling your eyeballs out. it seems that you haven’t stopped crying just yet.

“shh, stop crying y/n,” he rubbed your back and wiped your tears with his thumb. you cried even more at this and hugged him, and he hugged back, caressing your soft hair. “what’s wrong?” he asked softly, lifting your chin up to make you face him.

your face is a mess, no joke — well you were sobbing real hard — but even though you look like that, hyunjin still wanted to kiss you. you are always beautiful to him.

“i’m sorry jinnie nghhh,” you sobbed, burying your face on his chest. “i’m really sorry, i’m so stupid,” you continued to cry, wetting his shirt but he didn’t seem to mind it at all. “i’m really sorry for, everything; for telling you things you don’t want to hear, for hurting you,”

“it’s alright, you don’t have to apologize,” he said, hands finding yours as he gave it a light squeeze.

you shook your head stubbornly and looked up at him, “i have to, i’m really sorry,” you pulled away from the embrace and wiped your tears. “and, they, rejected me,” you whispered softly, but he still heard it clearly. he let out a small oh.

“look y/n, don’t cry just because of that, hey you still have me,” he said the last phrase jokingly trying to cheer you up a bit. he didn’t realize that you took that as an indirect confession.

you laughed at him and gave him a sweet smile, “you’re right, i’m such an idiot for not realizing this sooner,”

he was about to ask you what was that but you quickly closed the gap between yours and his lips. at first, he would be shocked at this but then melted onto your lips and pulled you closer to him.

don’t be so desperate in finding something from somewhere far away. sometimes, you just have to look carefully, you might never know it’s just besides you.

“ don’t waste your time on someone who doesn’t even acknowledge you; there’s me, who loves and adores you, ” — love, hyunjin.

#ew so cringey #stray kids #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids blurbs #stray kids angst #stray kids fluff #stray kids hwang hyunjin #stray kids hyunjin #stray kids x reader #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin #hyunjin x reader #fluff #angst #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin angst #00:00

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clexaisheretostay · 5 years

Text

Frozen Flowers

Post season 4 reveal with Lena and Kara finding themselves far apart. Lena left long ago but Kara didn't even know and the day she found out was the day she really started hurting. She should have realized, should have known that there was no way that she couldn't just randomly bump into Lena even in a city as big as National City for a year if she was still living here. Kara just wished she had been given a chance to explain everything, she should have explained everything before it came to this.

Regret pooled in Kara and an aching pain bloomed in her chest and she knew for sure that she wouldn’t live to see forgiveness. There was no way she was going to seek Lena out without her express permission to do so. She should have just told Lena long before this happened. Her soul cracked and scarred, Kara knew she loved Lena even if Lena hated her now.

The rest of this story is actually already posted up on my account at Ko-Fi.com/himemiyahikaru for anyone willing to help support me and keep a roof over my head since I’m a little short on rent money right now because of various life circumstances.

姫宮光る

Chapter 1

There’s No Point Anymore

Never had anything hurt more than the parting words Lena threw in Kara’s face before exiting from Kara’s life permanently, at least it was permanent for a while.

“I hate you, Kara. You are dead to me. I never want to see you again,” Lena spat with such anger in her eyes, disdain in her voice. Kara had never heard Lena so hateful, not even when she spoke of or to her own mother. It felt like someone had shot her in the gut with a Kryptonite laced bullet that went straight through her. Never had she felt such anguish like this in all her life because though the destruction of her planet had been devastating, it had been an almost abstract concept since she had fallen into the phantom zone for 24 years before crash landing right into the Danvers’ lives. Actually, Kara would have preferred a Kryptonite bullet through the brain right about now. That might have hurt less than this unbearable wound bleeding out of her heart, searing into her brain, and seeping underneath her skin, burrowing deeply like a parasite. No, it would definitely have been much less painful if she was shot through the brain with a Kryptonite bullet right now. Perhaps she deserved it if a bullet shot her right now because of the angry, wounded look on Lena’s face.

“Lena, I would apologize a hundred times if I thought that would help make you feel less hurt. I’m apologizing now, however little that means to you right now after … after everything, after lying for so long. There are no words that can express how deeply, sincerely sorry I am that I didn’t tell you sooner, that I didn’t say something when I first realized how much I trust you, how much I care for you and believe in you, Lena.” Kara, paused, taking a deep breath to steel herself to continue talking. “However, I obviously didn’t and now … now it’s probably too late for me to apologize, but I am truly sorry, Lena.”

“Are you done, Supergirl?” Lena asked coldly, a sneer on her face, something Kara had never seen directed at her. It hurt, but it probably didn’t hurt as much as Kara’s massive breach of trust did and Kara couldn’t imagine how much agony Lena was in right now.

Kara’s face fell, tears welling in her eyes that she tried to blink away as she looked at an unmoved Lena, still gazing at her stoically. “I just … want to tell you how sorry I am one more time. Lena, I have never been more remorseful for anything in my life than not telling you the truth the moment I trusted you to keep my secret, the moment I trusted in our friendship.”

“If you’re done, then leave, get the hell out of my office. We’re done talking now.” Lena’s face had smoothed out to show absolutely no emotion, but Kara could smell the saline of her tears in the air as well as hear how her heart pounded with ache. It was difficult to know that she was the reason for all of it, for the way Lena was suffering right now was because she kept listening to everyone else instead of listening to her own heart and telling Lena, NDA forms be damned.

“Okay, Lena … I’ll leave but know that if you … if ever there is a day you might be able to forgive me,” Lena scoffed but didn’t interrupt Kara, “you have my number and know where to find me. Until then … I’ll leave you be Lena. I promise.” Lena didn’t even acknowledge Kara’s words, just gestured for her to fly out of her office through the balcony door before turning around and sitting down in her desk chair. That was the last time Kara would see Lena for nearly two years and not under the best circumstances either.

One year. It had been just over a year since Kara had last seen Lena, last spoken to the love of her life, though she didn’t dare tell Lena that. She might have been a masochist for listening for Lena’s heartbeat any time she was anywhere within her super hearing distance of Lena to listen to that soothing heartbeat … she stopped looking for it after a few months because it wasn’t right for her to do that. Lena wanted space and this was a violation, even if she would never know that Kara had been actively seeking her out in a way only she would be aware of, and she forced herself to stop after two and a half months of listening to that heartbeat with longing.

Today was an exception. Kara hadn’t been the one to think to come over to the LCorp building. In fact, Kara had attempted to talk Snapper out of forcing this particular assignment on her. Nobody had spoken to Lena for an interview in more than half a year and he wanted answers as to why she hadn’t had a public appearance in so long. LCorp was still running even if no one had seen her coming and going from the office, rich people could use private parking in a secure parking garage that required ID to access it after all. Being a CEO also meant being rich enough not to have to worry about not getting a meal delivered or having someone else working get it for you without having to lift a finger to get it yourself, of course. And Kara knew all of those things, so she didn’t have any high hopes of meeting with Lena whatsoever when she went to the top floor in order to meet with Lena.

Upon exiting the elevator, she was greeted by Jess sitting at her usual desk. Before Kara could even open her mouth, Jess was speaking, “Miss Luthor is not in her office at the moment.”

“Okay, but I was supposed to meet with her today in order to interview her for CatCo Magazine,” Kara spoke as if Jess didn’t already know she was a reporter there, but Jess didn’t comment on that and instead gave her a calculating look. “I emailed her directly about this and someone else from LCorp emailed me back to come at this time today.”

Jess sighed, “I emailed you back in Miss Luthor’s place, Miss Danvers. The reason for that is you won’t be able to meet with Miss Luthor to interview her ever again and I wanted to tell you in person so you wouldn’t come in everyday looking for her. Of course, this is off the record because this isn’t an interview.” Kara felt like the earth had suddenly crumbled beneath her feet and nothing was holding her down to the ground. A terrible ache in her chest made itself known as tears sprang to her eyes and heartache bloomed and started throbbing throughout her chest like a plant blooming within the confines of her ribs. “Miss Luthor left more than six months ago. I cannot tell you where she went, only that she made sure no one would be able to find her without her express permission. She is still running LCorp from where she is, which is why no one suspects that she is no longer CEO at the moment.”

Kara felt numb as she nodded blankly, feeling worse than how she had felt when she last spoke to Lena about her betrayal over a year ago, worse than how hollow she had been the following months without contact with her best friend, with the love of her life out of her life for such a long time. “Why are you telling me this?”

Again, Jess looked at her in a calculating way before responding, “I’m only telling you this because I saw, firsthand, how terribly your falling out affected Miss Luthor, how agonizing it was for her to experience such a large breach of trust in someone she trusted more than anyone else in her entire life. Though I don’t know what it was that caused such a rift between the two of you … I know that I watched her become a shell of who she once was. She hardly ever ate or left her office. I’d never seen her more devastated in all of the years I’ve worked for her and I was the one who suggested she leave for her own sake. Miss Luthor didn’t want to leave when I first made a comment about how starting fresh somewhere might help her heal, but she finally agreed with me and now she is somewhere far, far away from where her pain resides.” Jess gave Kara a knowing look. The comment wasn’t meant to hurt her, just point out that living here had been destroying Lena little by little.

“Right then. I’ll just … I’ll be on my way then, Jess. Thank you … thank you for telling me this in person when you didn’t have to … or need to let me know anything at all.” Jess responded by nodding her head and giving her a wave goodbye before getting back to her work, after all an assistant’s job is never done no matter how far away they were from their boss.

The rest of the day Kara was practically useless to Snapper so he sent her home, and it almost seemed like he was moderately concerned with her nearly catatonic state. All he got out of Kara was that Lena hadn’t been in her office. By the time Kara came home she realized that she hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast nearly twelve hours ago but she didn’t feel hungry, not in the slightest. She went to sit down on her couch and curled up into a ball, knees drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped around her knees, and her head resting on her arms, staring blankly ahead, lost in thought. Kara wasn’t sure how much time had passed while she was lost in thoughts of how wrong her life seemed without the possibility of ever having Lena in her life again when the door to her apartment opened and Alex came through with several boxes of pizza stacked high in her arms. If Kara hadn’t been so dazed, she would have marveled in her sister’s talent in being able to carry everything and still unlock the door as someone without superhuman capabilities.

“Hey, Kara, I brought the pizza as promised for sister … night? What’s wrong, Kara?” Alex came over to set the pizza boxes down on the coffee table and immediately wrapped Kara up in her arms, knowing how tactile Kara was when she wanted, or needed in this case, comfort when she was hurting over something. For a long time, Kara was silent, just taking comfort in being in Alex’s arms and warm hug. Kara hadn’t cried yet, nothing had really sunk in yet. The fact that Lena was somewhere she didn’t know and couldn’t possibly hope to find her hadn’t become real yet as she sat in her dark apartment, staring at a picture frame of Lena holding her from behind, exuding happiness in her subtle smile. Alex waited patiently for Kara to find the right words to tell her what was wrong. She knew that Kara sometimes wasn’t sure what she wanted to say yet, how to say what she wanted to say, and so she needed the time to find what she wanted to say to her. “Take your time, sweetie.” Alex kissed her forehead tenderly for a long moment before leaning back, looking Kara in the eye when she made a noise.

“She’s gone, Alex, and I’ll probably never see her again.” Alex furrowed her brows but remembered why she had come over to Kara’s apartment in the first place: Lena Luthor. Kara had excitedly told her that Lena had accepted an interview with her for earlier today and Alex insisted that she should come over after she was done at work so that she could bring celebratory pizza over or consolation pizza if things didn’t go as planned with the interview. “Jess, her assistant,” as if Alex didn’t know who she was from the various times she had gone to Lena’s office over the years, “was actually the one who emailed me in Lena’s place to accept the meeting to … to tell me in person that Lena left the country a long time ago. Maybe she felt bad for me or just knew that I would keep coming if Lena never answered. I’m not sure, but she said that the reason she asked me to come in person was so that I wouldn’t come by the office everyday looking for her because she’s not in the same state, let alone same country anymore, from how she said it anyways since she never specified if Lena was still in the country or not. Just said that she was … far, far away from here … from me.”

“Oh, Kara. Come here.” Alex felt Kara bury her face into her neck, finally shedding tears at the finality of the whole situation, of the realization that Lena never wanted to see her face again and she truly meant it. There was no way to fix this, no way to make things better without Lena coming back and telling Kara that she had forgiven her, that they could be friends again, or at the very least that she would be in the same city as her even if she never spoke to her again in an unofficial capacity. Being acquaintances would be better than not being anything to each other at all. Kara’s thoughts just spiraled from there. Nothing was going to make any of this okay again. After that Kara didn’t speak another word for the rest of the night, hardly even touched the pizza, much to Alex’s dismay and concern.

It had been months since Kara had discovered that Lena had moved out of the city to someplace Kara would never know. Days all blended together, weeks sped by while she felt like she wasn’t moving at all, and before Kara even knew it, it had been four months since she found out that Lena made sure Kara would never see her by accident on the street, while shopping for groceries, just doing something in public where they could bump into each other by pure luck. Kara hardly ate, barely slept, and stopped going out with her friends. Why eat when everything was tasteless, why sleep when she was haunted by her dreams, though being awake was like living a nightmare she couldn’t escape, and why try to enjoy life when life was meaningless? It was unanimously decided that game night wasn’t game night without Kara after the sixth time Kara failed to show up or participate with any sense of enthusiasm if she showed up. Just looking at her compared to how effervescent she was before was more than just disheartening, it was downright depressing. Things just hadn’t been the same since Kara found out that Lena moved away to get away from her, to take any and all chances of them reconciling away and disappearing out of Kara’s life permanently.

Ever since Kara discovered Lena had left she had been taking more and more risks, in fact everything she did was without the slightest hint of caution or sense in order to stop natural disasters, crime, or unknown alien threats. Kara went into every fight recklessly, was hungover or drunk on rare occasions when something happened while she was at home drinking her weight in her favorite alien liquors and drowning in her misery. Alex had had enough of watching her sister destroy herself and finally exploded after one time too many. “Why are you doing this to yourself Kara?”

Kara smiled hollowly, “because there’s no point anymore.” Alex had wanted to question what she meant but she was pretty sure the answer was something she wouldn’t be able to stomach if she questioned Kara about her comment. Alex resolved to find Lena by any means necessary and would do it with or without the DEOs permission and resources if she had to for Kara’s sake. Nothing was going to stop her from finding that damn Luthor, nothing.

Kara hadn’t been the same since she found out Lena had left National City. Every time she left for a mission, Alex couldn’t help but worry it would be the last time she saw her sister alive and well, physically at least. There was no doubt that Kara was mentally, emotionally broken inside, psychologically scarred in a way Alex couldn’t hope to heal her. And though Alex couldn’t blame Lena for leaving, she could blame Lena for not coming back, for not telling Kara in person that she was leaving and never coming back, something at least that wouldn’t have broken Kara so much at the loss of her deepest friendship and, though Kara hadn’t told her, the love of her life. Though Kara had broken her trust, Kara shouldn’t have to die in order to be forgiven, should she? Should anyone? No, there was no way Lena could be so cruel. She had to find Lena no matter what. It had already been two months of this destructive behavior and Alex couldn’t watch her sister kill herself any longer. Alex was going to find Lena even if it took weeks, months, or years to find her wherever she was hiding out.

Alex recruited Winn to find Lena’s trail because there was no way for her to hide all technological traces, even if she was a genius multi-billionaire with nearly limitless resources. Winn was her best shot (no pun intended) at finding Lena before it was too late, before Kara succeeded in killing herself and justifying it as a heroic death instead of what it truly was: suicide. It was frustrating the first two months having no progress because Lena was damn good at hiding her transactions from all of those months ago when she left. Being that it had been nearly a year since she left it was even harder than if the trail had been fresh. Almost everything Alex and Winn looked into turned into a dead end with false dummy interactions and set ups to lead anyone trying to find her astray into multiple promising looking clues that turned out to be nothing. It was almost as if Lena had disappeared entirely off the face of the earth and Alex was starting to wonder if Lena had somehow gone to a different earth parallel to theirs with some kind of invention when Winn finally found a lead two months after they first started looking without Kara even being that curious about what they were doing. Just a curious inquiry about what they were constantly talking about these days and an acceptance when the answers weren’t very forthcoming. Alex nearly cried in frustration and pain at her sister’s lackluster response and general despondence becoming so common. She shouldn’t be this way, shouldn’t be so indifferent to everything going on around her like she was merely a spectator to her own life and those in her life. One glance at Winn told her that Winn agreed wholeheartedly.

They started working even harder to figure out where the hell Lena had gone to stump everyone out of finding her location. It had been a grueling two months to find something promising that wasn’t a complete waste of time being a dummy account or transaction to fend off potential enemies looking for Lena for them to have something that gave them both a spark of hope that they would find her yet for Kara’s sake. Kara didn’t look like herself anymore, blonde hair no longer shining like it used to because of how much sun she would take in, her skin looked pale, she looked tired, and thin, so utterly thin and small compared to how larger than life she had been prior to her finding out about Lena. Even when Kara had initially had her falling out with Lena it hadn’t been this bad. Sure, Kara had lost her appetite for about two weeks before realizing that it wasn’t how she should look at things if she wanted to fix her mistake. Kara had taken to giving Lena space and hoping that after some time they could start talking and build their friendship back up from scratch, start over again. The thought of a fresh start gave Kara treacherous hope before Lena snatched that away effectively by ensuring they would never see each other again by disappearing out of Kara’s life, permanently.

What started off as a little clue that didn’t turn out to be nothing became something more, something that felt like the beginning of salvation, a way to save Alex’s sister, to save Winn’s best friend. It was another two months before they found something even more solid, something better than a slight trace that might lead to Lena eventually, considering how long it had taken them to find a mere bread crumb of a clue. Losing hope was the only way they wouldn’t find Lena, so after more than four months, Alex and Winn were becoming more and more sure of the fact that Lena was somewhere in Asia that was extremely remote. Being half a world away was the farthest she could have possibly gone in order to avoid Kara after all. It took another two weeks to narrow it down to an isolated part of China that was mostly countryside but not too far from the city. Alex gave Winn a hug when he figured out what it was Lena had done, how she had been able to avoid detection so well that it took them four and a half months just figure out that Lena hadn’t, in fact, just moved away from the city. She had in fact used someone else to camouflage her movement and hidden herself somewhere in the middle of nowhere that wasn’t too far from civilization. It was certain that Lena wasn’t living with whomever her camouflage friend was, based on the camera footage he could find of her only occasionally appearing at said person’s residence, she just used the address for important pieces of mail that was forwarded to the address somehow by Jess to the person who was most likely a relative of hers. The whole thing was ingenious and Alex would have admired such a sneaky tactic if it hadn’t been used as a way to escape Kara and avoid their problems without giving Kara a say about whether she would ever be forgiven for lying to Lena for just over two years of friendship.

Either way, Alex had finally managed to track Lena down with Winn’s help and she wasn’t going to waste another second in the DEO without planning a way to make it to China within the next week to save Kara from herself. Getting a few days off from J’onn wasn’t difficult since he knew what she was doing when she asked him to clear her work schedule for a few days in order to do what she needed to do.

Alex had never thought about how long flying to a country half the world away would take but, damn, she had been on the airplane for twelve hours to get to South Korea with a layover of only two hours, which wasn’t terrible, and then had to fly another four hours to the airport closest to Lena’s assistant’s sister’s apartment. Thinking that always gave Alex a bit of a headache because there were so many possessives all in one thought. Alex was just so happy to finally be off of the airplane and moving towards her goal to finding Lena. Reaching out to Jess’ sister would have alerted Lena in advance so, Alex decided to just drop in as soon as possible after settling into her hotel and finding some mode of transportation that would be inexpensive for her but also convenient. She was a little nervous now that she was here, that she was this close to fixing Kara, to the person who held the key to making Kara feel better. Every minute since she left the airport after getting a taxi was a bit nerve wracking, in a good way. After she settled into her hotel room, she paced around the limited space within the room, coming up with a game plan. She had made sure to calculate every step of the way from the how long the flights and layovers were down to how long it would take from with a taxi to the hotel she was staying at. Everything was calculated and now she needed to think of a way to approach Isla, Jess’ sister, without alarming her. Perhaps the truth might help, but it had a chance of hindering her chances instead if Isla knew all of the circumstances that lead to Lena hiding away.

Then again, if Alex was dishonest then she would lose all chances of even seeing Lena for a single moment. No, she would be brutally honest and appeal to Isla’s love for her own sister to get her to see that Alex only wanted to save Kara from herself and give Lena a chance to come back and clear the air with Kara hopefully. That’s all she wanted. Yes, that would be her best bet at getting Isla to allow Alex to talk to Lena about coming back.

Mind made up, Alex went downstairs to ask about the bus system here, since it was much cheaper than taking the bullet train instead, and went on her way to Isla’s apartment. The whole ride there she planned out what she wanted to say to her. It wasn’t hard to think of the words, to reach inside and honestly think about how hard it was to see her sister suffering from heartache. Before Alex knew it, she had reached the stop closest to Isla’s apartment and started walking to the apartment, a fifteen-minute walk according to her GPS.

Before Alex was entirely ready she was standing before a very well built and beautiful condominium that was definitely paid for by an extremely wealthy person. It just reeked of money, more money than even those with higher end jobs could afford to pay. The outside looked simple enough, like a regular condominium for someone with an extremely well paying job, but there were little things that Alex knew to look for that it made it obvious it was worth several million dollars such as the gated entryway, the higher end security unit used to gain access, the somewhat hidden security cameras, and a few other things that made it worth more than it looked without noticing such details upon first glance. Alex hesitated, unsure of how to approach in order to gain access until she noticed something that looked like an intercom to buzz into the apartments. Upon seeing that, Alex took a deep breath to steel herself before walking the few steps over to the intercom and pressing the one to indicate she wanted to talk to Huang, Isla and even the first buzz caused nerves to eat away at Alex as she waited. Finally, after four rings, someone answered, hopefully it was Isla and not someone else who might possibly run away if she was there right now and realized Alex was here too early.

“Hello?” a voice asked.

“Um, hi, is this Isla by any chance?” Alex inquired in response, just to be sure.

“Yes, this is she. Whom am I speaking to?” she replied back.

“My name is Alex Danvers and I was hoping you could help me with something important. I’d rather not say over the intercom what it is, but it is regarding someone you know about someone important to me.” There was silence for several seconds and every second Alex held her breath until she heard the intercom come back to life.

“I have a feeling I know what this is about, but come on in.” With that she heard the unusually pleasant-sounding ring that allowed her entrance, something that was paid for by the rich people who reside here no doubt. Walking in, she walked to the appropriate condominium unit and knocked tentatively. After just a moment the door opened to reveal someone who looked relatively similar to Jess. Isla motioned for Alex to come in and said, “shoes off please,” as she walked further into the condominium towards a spacious living room area that looked homey. There were several picture frames on a mantle area near the couch showing Isla with various family members, one of just Isla and Jess smiling together on a beach, and one even had a picture of Lena with the sisters. The one with Lena and the sisters looked like it had been taken at an event they had all attended because of how well dressed they all were. Alex was broken out of her musings by Isla’s voice. “So, you wanted to talk, right?” Her voice was hesitant though not entirely unkind.

“Right, yes. My name is Alex, as I stated, and I wanted to talk to you about my sister, Kara.” Isla seemed unsurprised by that fact, but nodded for Alex to go on, seemingly willing to listen to her plead her case. “Okay, so I’m not sure if you know, though I highly doubt that you wouldn’t know about this, that my sister had a falling out with Lena nearly two years ago now. They haven’t spoken in all of that time, nor seen each other. Kara tried to give Lena space to heal and didn’t try to see her in person for over a year before your sister told her what Lena had done, that Lena had left National City entirely. That was kind of her to do that instead of leaving Kara coming back everyday and hoping Lena will eventually meet her without knowing that Lena hasn’t been in National City since long before her first attempt to see her in person.” Isla nodded along, listening to Alex intently and that gave Alex a spark of hope that things might actually turn out better than she had thought it would. Optimism had never been her strong suit, everyone knew Kara was the ray of hope and as positive as sunshine after all. “So, ever since she found out that Lena left without a word she has become … a danger to herself in every way possible. Before this she had only ever gotten drunk a few times in her life but now she has shown up to work either hungover still or drunk once when there was a work emergency just enough times for it to be disconcerting though not entirely out of line. And not only that, but she is now extremely careless and has been putting herself in tremendous danger. She has not gone a week without being seen for various injuries for more than three days in the last eight months. Ever since she found out Lena left she hasn’t really smiled much, she never seems like she’s there when she shows up to hang out with friends, but most of all … I think she’s trying to kill herself whether it is intentional or not, whether she realizes that that is what she’s doing or not. I’m scared that one day I’m going to get a call that my sister didn’t make it, that she died saving someone else’s life. Suicide dressed up as a heroic act instead. I don’t know for sure, but that’s the scariest part. The way she’s been acting, I can’t help but fear that she is in fact suicidal and it hurts knowing that nothing I’ve said or done has helped.”

Isla swallowed hard and gave Alex a few moments to compose herself, tears having gathered in her eyes before she couldn’t hold them back anymore, too distraught over the thought of her sister succeeding one day. After Alex calmed down a bit, Isla finally spoke up. “What is it that you want from me exactly, Alex?”

“All I want is to tell Lena that she might not have a chance to talk to Kara and fix their friendship if that’s what she wants to do before Kara manages to kill herself in some act of heroism. If she doesn’t want to live with that regret then she better let me talk to her and let her know where things stand right now.” Alex’s voice was strong this time, despite the sorrow still coating her heavy eyes.

“How about I make you a cup of tea and we can sit at the table while we wait for Lena then?” Alex couldn’t believe her ears and she was sure her jaw was hanging from the shock of hearing those words.

“Of course. Thank you.” Isla simply smiled and hoped she was doing the right thing by everyone involved.

#supercorp #angst #au #slow burn #soulmate #fanfic #post reveal

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hydrospanners · 6 years

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filling the table They have a saying back on Corellia that the only way you can ever really know a man is by taking his credits. They also have a saying that you should never play cards with a Corellian because Corellians always cheat, but she's betting Doc never heard that one. SWTOR. F!Jedi Knight x Doc. 1800 words. AO3.

Filling the table: In some rare occasions, a round of pazaak could be won if a player could place 9 cards on the table without busting.

It’s well after lights out when Rea wanders into the mess, her fingers tapping out a nervous rhythm against her thighs. The base is like a graveyard at this hour, dark as a black hole and damn near as quiet. With the generators offline for the night, there’s no sound but the distant echo of blaster fire and the rumble of answering explosives. It’s fucking unsettling. She’s too used to the not-quite-quiet of ships and stations and cities. Too used to the hum and tick of machinery, to the murmur of distant voices, to the sounds of life.

This quiet makes her skin crawl. It’s got her itching to go somewhere, to do something, but there’s nowhere to go and nothing useful to do. Not at night. The Imps have eyes everywhere on this planet. Too much movement, the slightest pinprick of light… The last thing Rea needs is to draw an air raid down on the only people who can get her that stupid fucking prototype.

At this hour, after a day like this one, she’s expecting to find the mess empty. She figures the Resistance will be tucked away in their drab little cots, dreaming of better days. When she spots the figure settled at a table in the center of the room, she almost turns around and walks right back out--she’s not really in the mood for another lecture on duty and ethics and the moral bankruptcy of the Republic--but then she sees the outline of a familiar mustache in the dim glow of a datapad screen.

That changes things.

Rea finds herself smiling as she settles onto the bench across from the doctor, pushing away the empty packets of energy pudding he seems to be eating direct from the wrapper. She’s never minded much about the taste of her food, but even her stomach protests the thought of that. Poor bastard needs it, though. She hasn’t seen him since their meeting with Warren, but the dark circles under his eyes tell her he’s been keeping himself entertained. No shortage of work for a doctor in a combat zone.

At least one of them has something to do.

“Long night, Doc?”

“Is it night?” He asks, looking up from his datapad to toss her a tired smile. He starts to turn back to whatever he’s reading when he freezes, looking at her again like he’s just realized she’s there. His whole demeanour shifts to something more open and relaxed. “Time really flies when you’re having fun, Gorgeous, and we had a lot of fun today.”

“Don’t know a lot of people who think of ‘exit, pursued by colicoid’ as a good time.”

“Anything’s a good time when you’re in good company,” he says, waggling his eyebrows in a way that would be ridiculous on anyone else. Actually, it’s ridiculous on him too, but ridiculous works for Doc.

“Smooth,” Rea laughs, then gestures at the datapad in his hand. “Not interrupting, am I?”

Doc drops the datapad like a hot rock. “What could be more important than talking to a beautiful woman?”

So predictable. Rea tries not to smile too much as she whips out a deck of cards from her belt pouch and starts to shuffle. His eyes follow the movement of her finely-sculpted arms with open appreciation. “You ever play pazaak?” She asks.

“My gran used to make me play with her. Hosted a game twice a week. She liked to sneak brandy in her tea and make me listen to her friends go on about how great things were before the Mandalorian Wars. Which, coincidentally,” Doc draws his attention away from her exquisite musculature to give her a significant look, “is the last time anyone under eighty played pazaak.”

He’s been teasing her about her ‘advanced age’ ever since Kira mentioned, absolutely deliberately, that Rea’s a year older than him. The difference can’t be more than a few months, but that hasn’t stopped the torrent of old lady jokes she’s been taking from both of them all day.

She rolls her eyes, but doesn’t bother arguing. “You a betting man, Doc?”

“Only when I gamble,” he says. “You?”

"I'm Corellian," Rea grins. "What do you think?"

Four hands later, she’s fifty credits richer and Doc is rooting around in his pocket for something to scribble another IOU on. She knows he’ll never make good on it, but Rea’s happy to accept his empty promises if it keeps him playing the game. She’s overdue for a bit of fun.

Doc watches her curiously as she deals the fifth hand. “So where’d you learn to play? You can tell me they teach pazaak in Jedi school, but I’m not gonna believe you.”

Rea shoots him an amused look. “Jedi school?”

“Gotta learn Jedi stuff somewhere, don’t you?”

She almost wishes Rhese was here, if only to see the shade of violet he’d turn at hearing a decade’s worth of finely-honed skills reduced to ‘Jedi stuff’. “Afraid you’re asking the wrong Jedi. I never went to school.” Even if she had, she wouldn’t have lasted long. Rea’s always had a complicated relationship with structure. And rules.

“You never went to school?” He gives her a piercing look that quickly shifts from skeptical to horrified when she shakes her head. “ Any school? Not even before the Jedi?”

“Not all of us can be delicate Core flowers, Doc.”

Doc raises a brow. “Core flower, huh? You been checking up on me, Gorgeous?”

She can almost hear Ranna in the back of her mind, giving her that old familiar warning. Everyone will betray you if you give them the chance . She used to worry so much about Rea, about how freely she talked and how careless she was about who listened. She was always warning her to watch her back and keep her mouth shut. Always smiling that bittersweet smile, telling her ‘ you can’t trust anything in this life but family, Turhaya.’

She’d been wrong about that, of course. You can’t trust family either.

“I know money when I see it,” Rea tells him, which is true. She learned to read a mark before she learned to read her own name. She doesn’t mention she’s also had Teeseven mining the holonet for information about him since they got back to base. He hasn’t found much so far--a birth certificate, transcripts, a few publications in medical journals--and she can’t decide if that’s promising or alarming. People with posh backgrounds like Doc’s aren’t usually so mysterious.

He snorts. “Glamorous as it is, working for the Resistance doesn’t actually pay that well.”

She’d be surprised if it paid at all. “Lucky you’ve got that trust fund for hard times.”

His brow sails nearly up into his hairline. He seems more impressed than angry, which is encouraging for the plans Rea hadn’t realized she was forming until just now. “You really have been checking up on me.”

“Just a guess actually,” she grins, “but thanks for confirming. I’ll remember that when it’s time to call these in.” She gestures to the half-dozen IOUs in the pot.

“And what else have you ‘just guessed’ about me?”

“Well…” Rea folds her arms over her cards, leaning forward on her elbows. “Aside from how much you like to talk about yourself--”

“There’s a lot to say.”

“--you’re from the Core, but I’m guessing somewhere more focused on creds and culture than politics. Somewhere on the Perlemian, probably. How am I doing?”

“Ralltiir,” he confirms. “And I’m halfway to impressed. What else?”

“You’re good and you know it, so you’d only have gone to a good school. Coruscant probably, cause it’s the best of the best, and you took to medicine like light to a black hole. You had to be talented to finish school early even after blowing all that time in the underbelly of Galactic City. I’m guessing that’s where you got the notion to do this--” she gestures to the darkened Resistance base around them “--with all that fancy education of yours.”

The shrewd look he gives her tells her she hit the nail right on the head. She resists the urge to high five herself. “Are you fucking with me, Gorgeous? Or were all those banthashit stories about Jedi reading minds actually true?”

Rea laughs. “I’m no mind-reader, Doc. Not saying it can’t be done--Force shit’s weird--but it’s not my kinda Force shit. All I ever learned were the punching bits.”

Doc’s expression says he doesn’t quite believe her, but he doesn’t push. Rea starts to suspect he might actually be as smart as he thinks he is. “So if it’s not a Force trick, where’d you learn it?”

She shrugs. “Wasn’t always a Jedi.”

“Don’t they pluck you people straight from the cradle?”

“They made an exception for me. Not even the Jedi could resist all this.” Rea grins, gesturing to herself with a careless sweep of her hands as she leans back to give Doc a better view of everything the Jedi couldn’t resist. He accepts the invitation eagerly, eyes roving every inch of her he can see in the dark.

“Can’t say I blame ‘em, Beautiful.”

Rea smirks, pleased by the hungry way he’s looking at her. Every nerve ending in her body is sparking to life, tingling with anticipation. She hasn’t had a chance like this in weeks, and now that there’s a familiar, delicious heat starting to build inside her, Rea’s skin is practically itching with impatience. She’s never been shy about chasing what she wants, but she forgot how good it feels to have what she wants chasing her .

How many hours did you have to know someone before you could ask them to fuck you on a table?

She opens her mouth to ask Doc for his opinion, but two sharp beeps from her holocomm kill the words on her tongue. Warren’s ID flashes red across the screen.

The heat in her veins couldn’t have vanished faster if she was streaking through a blizzard on Hoth.

“You should get some rest,” Rea sighs, sweeping the pazaak cards into her palm in one smooth motion. “I’ve got a feeling I’ll be collecting on those IOUs sooner than later.” And not in the way I wanted , she thinks dismally.

But maybe there’ll be a chance for that later.

If she’s very lucky, and if she does her job very well, then maybe they’ll both make it out of this thing alive. Maybe Balmorra will be more-or-less in one piece. And maybe, just maybe, she’ll have time before the next crisis to show the doctor everything she had planned for that table.

#swtor #swtor fic #swtor doc #archiban kimble #jedi knight #nirea velaran #velaran legacy #my fic #my swtor fic #i started writing this in april of 2016 #so when i say i'm a slow writer #that's what i mean #anyway LOOK #it is DONE #almost unrecognizable to the original version #BUT DONE #[throws confetti]

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amassingeffect · 6 years

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Ficlet Prompt Friday - Cave of Wonders - fReyder

@crown-laurel: I’d love to read about another date night with Sara and Reyes. After High Noon and locking in his romance!

While I haven’t romanced Reyes yet, having watched like eight vids for any Reyes romance, I feel absolutely cheated that he was not a possible squadmate. So, two birds, one stone and all that. LOL

Waring: post-High Noon, spoilers for Liam Kosta loyalty mission, heavy petting

Kadara was a place Sara had little problem coming back too. After the showdown that resulted in Sloane’s death, Reyes was busy solidifying the Collective as the ruling power in Kadara Port, and Sara was off planet not being further implicated. Besides, who knew what had happened elsewhere in the week she spent planet side. She had her hands full with the Nexus, Eos, Roekaar and co-ordinating strikes with Evfra and the Resistance on Voeld.

That wasn’t to say the messages between her and Reyes weren’t happening. A few a day, at the very least. Simple, innocuous looking messages that helped immensely to imagine him actually saying. Some with that playful tone, others with a smile and a wink. Neither of them were willing to say anything that could be intercepted.

If she was extremely transparent sending them back to Kadara two weeks later, she really didn’t care. That she had a message from Reyes simple saying “Tartarus” and a time, well… she didn’t think anyone would say anything right to her face. Well, anyone but Drack.

So here she was, strolling into Reyes’ private room. Sara would never tire of how his eyes lit up when he saw her, the smile that came to his face as he stood to greet her.

“Fashionably late.” Reyes murmured before he kissed her.

Sara could definitely see how he got the nickname ‘Shena’. His kisses always left a flutter in stomach and she loved those little moans he made. He was always slick with words and she couldn’t help but wonder what else his mouth was good at. How they hadn’t slept together yet, she hadn’t figured out. She had no inclination to rush him into something though. There was plenty of time yet.

“Don’t want you thinking I’m too eager.” Sara quirked her mouth into a small smile. “But I am glad to see you again.”

“It’s been too long. I was thinking of a late night drive?”

“Should I even ask? I mean a drive at,” she glanced at her omni-tool. “Just after one on Kadara?”

“If anyone tries to shoot at us, we can handle it. Besides, I do think it’s worth it.”

There was no way Sara could resist the silent question asked with that raised brow. “We can take the Nomad in thirty. Liam is offloading it now. It’s always the first thing he does here.”

“Ah, time for a drink then.”

In all honesty, the time passed quicker than Sara would have like. It felt like she just settled down beside Reyes, her very diluted tavum in hand when he was getting them going. He’d had to answer two messages, but Sara was honestly surprised it wasn’t more. Some days, she couldn’t even get through breakfast without receiving ten messages.

When they got to the Nomad and she saw something neatly secured into the backseat, she looked at him. “Reyes, what are you up to?”

“Nothing. I just figured you probably had eaten much. So I arranged a snack.”

“Uh huh,” Sara wished her stomach hadn’t picked that moment to growl like eiroch. “That looks more like a full meal.”

“Snack, meal,” Reyes shrugged with a coy smile. “If we’re out late enough, we can have breakfast and watch the sunrise.”

Sara got in and buckled up, sure he could see her blush as he did the same. “Where to Reyes?”

“Kurinth’s Valley.”

“Damn, you really wanted a late night drive, didn’t you?” Sara hit the start button, letting engine go through its start up revs before she got going. “I mean, there are easier ways to get me in a smaller space you know.”

“If I was going to do that, I like to think I could do better than your vehicle.”

“Ever the gentleman.” Sara paused, sliding Reyes a look. “Hasn’t it occurred to you that maybe I don’t want you to be a gentleman, all the time?”

Now it was Reyes’ turn to blush, she could just make it out in the low interior light. But Reyes had a small grin and his voice was low as he easily replied,

“That can be arranged.”

For once in her life, Sara stuck to the roads using the low beams to thread their way through the mountainous terrain. Better that than breaking both their necks with an unexpected cliff side. The drive up took them nearly an hour, but the entire time they talked. Reyes had endless questions about her work on Prothean digs and what she thought of the Remnant technology scattered through Heleus. And Reyes was far more forthcoming about himself that she expected. He had come to Andromeda to be someone, to be more than some orphan from the great teeming masses from the Santiago megatropolis of his childhood. His disillusionment with the Initiative was palpable, and having dealt extensively with Tann and Addision she really couldn’t fault him for that.

Sara had meant it when she said he could have his secrets. It was the big things that mattered more in her opinion. So when he got a little too quiet after some questions, all Sara did was slow down a bit and take his hand to give it a gentle squeeze. Reyes always gave her a chagrined smile and soft squeeze back. For all they wanted to be together, they were still adjusting to each other in small ways.

Getting into Kurinth’s Valley is what made her fall a bit quiet. It was silly, but she half expected another Architect to come swarming out of the ground and attack. A soft squeeze to her hand made her look over, startled a bit to find Reyes giving her a gentle smile.

“We’ll go out armed. There’s some more weapons stashed under the other backseat.”

Sara huffed but smiled, feeling relief. “Always full of surprises.”

“Good ones.”

If anything, Sara was quickly developing a weakness for that smile and a wink from those hazel eyes. She parked the Nomad out of easy sight in a little niche of Remnant stacks. A midnight picnic in the middle of nowhere with Reyes Vidal. Good thing she hadn’t told Cora, the woman would have blown something. A fuse, a gasket… her head. All Liam had done was nod and wave her off saying to give him a ring if things went south. She wasn’t too sure what Liam would come to the rescue in, but the man was resourceful.

The night air felt a bit cooler as she got out but she was honestly too busy staring at the sky overhead. A hand settling on her waist made her look over to see Reyes, the light from his omni-tool set to low. His smile was a bit shy as he gave a half shrug.

“Does Sara Ryder approve?”

Her stomach did that fluttery thing again as she leaned in to kiss him. “Definitely,” she murmured, thumb stroking along his jaw. “Set a whole mood and everything.”

“I can’t deny that’s what I was going for. This…”

For once Reyes had no words, quietly taking in the sight before him. Sara slipped an arm around his hips, moving in a bit closer. It was a sky thick with stars, more than she had ever seen on any planet back in the Milky Way. Just a wide expanse of stars with a backdrop of the golden galaxy and all edged by the shadowy Kadara mountains.

“It’s better with the company.” Sara stated quietly.

Reyes’ smile widened but his reply was preempted by her growling stomach. He laughed as he held up the small hamper. “Shall we get you fed?”

Suddenly, that sounded like the best damn thing Sara had ever heard. It didn’t take long to set the blanket out and dig into the hamper. It looked like a lot of light foods, fruit, vegetables, secure little drink packs and packets of meat. It was even better when Reyes fed her little tidbits, his gaze fixing on her lips when she kissed and nibbled on his fingertips.

“You really don’t want me to be a gentleman.”

The dark tone to his voice sent a thrill through her, making her shift with anticipation. She picked up his hand, tracing over the lines on his palm before she settled it on her crotch, pressing up against it hard. She could hear Reyes’ sharp inhale as she leaned in.

“I think,” she whispered in his ear, sucking gently on the lobe. “That you should really show me how you got the nickname Shena.”

The low groan he gave sent heat racing through her but it was when he kissed her that she felt like she was on fire. Suddenly, she hated this damned light armour and she couldn’t pressed against his hand hard enough. His mouth was definitely good enough, tongue teasing hers before he broke off to kiss down her neck. The light scrape of his teeth had her breathing harder, rolling her hips against his hand.

Goddamn, she was really hating her armour now. And his, since all she could really do was slide a hand down between them and palm at his clothed crotch. Oh, and this blanket, especially when she had that nice, big bed back on the Tempest. That was when her omni-tool flashed and SAM’s voice broke the silence.

“Pathfinder, I feel it prudent to warn you that there is an anomalous signal closing in on your and Mr Vidal’s location. They will arrive in less than five minutes.”

Sara was breathing hard, her brain almost automatically snapping back into Pathfinder mode. Almost because she just had to drink in the sight of Reyes in the low light, hair dishevelled with lips all kiss-bitten and his hazel eyes seemed to glow.

“Can you identify it, SAM?” her own voice was hoarse and Sara wondered what she looked like to him.

“One moment. Processing.” Was SAM quick reply.

“Hm, I wondered why I didn’t hear from SAM sooner,” Reyes got up to sit on his haunches. “Sara?”

Oh God, the way he said her name with his voice like that. Whoever interrupted this was dead. “I engaged privacy mode before I came to visit you.”

“Oh,” Reyes did sound intrigued. “SAM, who is paying us a visit?”

“Their ID signal marks them as Outcast. A small troop, estimated at seven along with a Hydra.”

“Well they’re in for the worst game of hide and seek ever.” Sara got to her feet now, unclipping her assault rifle. “SAM, patch in thermal-vision to an ocular overlay.”

There was a moment of silence from SAM. “Acknowledged Pathfinder. They are two minutes out. I suggest you take cover.”

“If they have reinforcements, ensure Liam Kosta gets the message that it’s gone south, with our last approximate co-ordinates.” Sara looked to where Reyes was waiting with his own gun. “Stay on my six.”

“I have no problem with that.” Reyes gave a smile, cocking his gun.

“You say that now…” Sara let her fist crackle with biotics.

“So the view from your six will be better. Shall we go say hello?”

Sara decided to start it off with a bang. A few bright red thermal shapes appeared a bit ahead of her and she Charged into them, provoking gunfire for all of three seconds. The shots bounced off her shields and she slammed down a Nova, sending bodies flying. She turned catching the dim glow of an omni-tool and realized Reyes left it on purposefully. With her biotics fading, she melted back into the darkness and the remaining shots were pinning Reyes down as the whine of the Hydra powering up shots came.

So much for that plan.

She moved like a Wraith in the darkness, the flash of her biotics the only telltale sign of where she was. She flickered them to distract the Hydra and the other assailants, their gunfire letting Reyes pick them off one by one. Though there was the blue crackle of an Overload and then the bright orange bloom of a Flamethrower. Sara felt confident they’d be done mopping up soon when SAM intoned,

“Message sent to Liam Kosta,” a few moments and then, “He expects his ETA to be thirty minutes.”

“They had reinforcements!” Sara dashed over to where Reyes was still in cover. “Kosta won’t be here for another thirty.”

Reyes swore. “How many reinforcements, SAM?”

“Two more troops.”

“And how long until they show up?”

The silence from SAM was too long and then, “One minute.”

Now Reyes was swearing even more now. Sara was trying to figure out just how to get past the Hydra when a missile slammed into their cover. There was an ominous groan from the ground and Sara felt it flex beneath her feet. She barely managed to grab Reyes before the ground fell out beneath them. Everything moved, half blurred from falling dirt. But the ground was clear enough and she held on to Reyes tighter, firing her jetpack intermittently to slow their descent. They were still gonna land hard and Sara brought her barrier up and turned so she took the brunt of the fall.

Still hurt like hell though and she’d be lucky if her jetpack was working properly after that hit. Reyes scrambled off her, gun up as he offered her a hand. Her back was protesting a bit as she took it and got up, eyes scanning around.

“Not how I wanted to wind up underneath you.” She spotted her rifle, and dashed for it.

Reyes chuckled even as he looked up at the hole they fell through. “You don’t think there’s a chance they’ll stay up there.”

“Doubt it.” As if just to drive the point home, the sound of jetpacks firing up came. “Let’s go! SAM, map the place as we go so we don’t get lost.”

Now it really was a game of cat and mouse, in a cave full of what seemed like glowing green crystals. At least these guys had a shred of intelligence and didn’t resort to grenades. It gave them an advantage that they pressed. And with SAM guiding them, they managed to flank and ambush clumps of the Outcasts before darting back into the frankly confusing maze of crystals. Reyes would strip their shields to let them take the full brunt of her biotics. Or she’d run in and distract them before a quick Blink got her out of the path of Reyes’ Flamethrower. It was only when SAM declared that there was no one else left that Sara lowered her gun.

“Okay, next time, I pick the place.” Sara came to crouch down beside Reyes. “I’m fairly sure I can find some spot on Eos where things won’t try to kill us.”

“All that sand gets in places.” Reyes glanced at her before turning his attention back to the crystal.

“Voeld?”

“I prefer to not freeze.”

“… I’m sure as hell not gonna suggest the Nexus.”

That got Reyes to laugh before he held up the crystal. “Do you know what this is?”

“Looks familiar,” Sara took it from him, surprised to feel a faint buzz from it. It felt like… “Meditation crystals?”

“Raw, unprocessed meditation crystals. This is a cave of wonders.” Reyes was already looking around.

“I think you mean the cave of credits,” Sara looked around. “Sixty, forty.”

Reyes countered with, “Fifty, fifty.”

“No, pretty sure you mean sixty, forty. Between my jetpack and biotics…” she trailed off with a smile.

“You drive a hard bargain,” Reyes put the crystal back down. “SAM, how long until Mr, Kosta shows up?”

“Twenty minutes Mr. Vidal.”

Sara laughed at the displeased expression on Reyes’ face. “There’s always later. But we do have right now, Shena.”

“Later might sooner than you realise. After all, you don’t precisely want me to be a gentleman.”

Sara’s laugh dissolved into a moan as Reyes kissed her. If Liam showed up late, she really wouldn’t mind it.

Liam had thought he had fucked up with the whole mess with Verand and rescuing her from Calot. So when Ryder had taken it in stride, he’d breathed a sigh of relief and swore he’d stop doing stupid shit. It was also why he didn’t question too closely when Ryder said she was heading out for the night and to keep an ear out in case she needed back up. Liam had nodded and said to give a ring if she needed it. With everything Ryder did, she definitely deserved a night off. She probably wouldn’t really get it, but she did deserve it. Sure enough, the message from SAM had come. He’d grabbed Drack and both of them had managed to squeeze into the small exploration pod and race all the damn way out to Kurinth’s Valley. Freakin’ Kurinth’s Valley. What Ryder was doing out here so late, Liam wasn’t too sure he wanted an explanation.

It was easy enough to spot where Ryder and Vidal had been ambushed. The scorch marks were barely visible in the predawn light. It was the bodies and empty Hydra that made it far more obvious. And oh yeah, the giant freaking hole in the ground that seemed to be glowing a pale green.

“I never want to ride in that tin can with you again.” Drack got out, half his bones creaking in protest. “Looks like the kid had fun.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. Let’s see where she is.”

Liam had his assault rifle out and Drack already had his Ruzad in hand. They swept through the area, finding the parked Nomad and what looked like the scattered and trampled remains of a picnic. A midnight picnic, really? He edged closer to the hole, before he called down.

“Ryder?”

There was a muffled curse and then, “You couldn’t have been another ten minutes?!”

The echo of Reyes’ laugh confirmed that Liam had definitely interrupted something. He stood there, awkwardly wondering just what he should say. Not that he had to because Drack solved that problem.

“Want some time to finish your rutting?”

“Drack!” Liam seriously wondered about the old krogan sometimes.

Sara’s sigh may have echoed but damn if the frustration wasn’t clear as a bell. “Just get us out of here, please.”

“Can do. Hang on a tic.” Liam called before he headed back to the pod, Drack right behind him.

“Gonna winch ‘em out?”

“Yeah, easier and we don’t have to worry about falling in ourselves. And really you can’t go asking things like that.”

Drack just shrugged. “Fight like that, two against all those people. I’d be looking for a rut too.”

“More than I ever wanted to know about you.” Liam stated. “Man, she can’t even go out date without it ending in a firefight.”

“I know right. Imagine if she decides to marry the guy,” Drack laughed. “Firefight of the century.”

Liam shook his head, fighting down a laugh as he grabbed the winch cord and started unspooling some length. “Definitely do not let either of them hear you say that. Pretty sure you don’t have enough parts left to survive that.”

#mass effect #mass effect: andromeda #ficlet prompt friday #femryder #reyes vidal #freyder #liam kosta #drack #nakmor drack #fanfic #writing #crown-laurel

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