#and saying how that's a kid bound to grow up to be a criminal or some shit?? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jujutsukgojo · 1 month

Text

My gifts to you

feitan portor x reader

Summary: You knew him for years for only moments at a time. Yet, you take it upon yourself to love and mourn him anyway, even when the world won't. tw: light smut, slight yandere feitan, spoilers, mentions of murder, light angst, fluff(?), injuries, cheating, time skips an: didn't mean for it to be this long. Feitan is a bit tricky for me but oh well :) kind of inspired by criminal minds 'no way out'. 10.8k

“If you tie it like this, it should stay, okay?” You tap the boy’s foot. Although he is smaller than you in height, his feet are bigger. It’s quite comical but you don’t dare laugh. In this blasted city, you’d be bound to die for such a thing. Especially if you laugh at someone with crazy hair and carries a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire.

He says something in a foreign language that you can’t understand. If you are correct, it may be inverted Japanese. In the books that one kid collects, there is a country, Japan, where the common language originates. Since the common language isn’t his mother tongue, it makes you wonder where he’s from and why he’s here.

The boy stands up to his full, but short, height. You sit on random rubble and look up at him, waiting for what he’ll do next. Will he call over Phinks or even bring Uvogin? He hangs out with Phinks mainly but who knows these days.

Instead of swinging the bat at you or calling over his friends, he pats your head awkwardly. You don’t make any sudden movements or noises. The boy leaves right after. A sigh escapes your lips after he leaves you behind.

What's his name again? Feitain?

__________

In your hut, you slightly stir the food that sizzles in the pan you found. It’s rare to come across tomatoes and eggs but you managed this time. The smell is mouth watering. You hope no one else can smell it.

As much as you want to live elsewhere, this is what you settle for at the moment. In another world, you’d be out of this city and somewhere clean and safe. Like the church or something. No, even better than the church. You’ve heard of the outside where there are bright flashing lights and diamonds and pearls on people’s necks. There are flowers of all colors out there. Different shapes, smells, and meanings, they’re all beautiful. You hear that food isn’t scavenged but bought or given to people without a price.

People said they’ve seen the safety of children your age that play without a care. There are parents for the lost kids and doctors for the injured. Clean clothes and showers on the regular. You can even see the sun clearly and the big, round moon that doesn't bring out the wolves in men.

There are pastors and priests that don’t turn people away, either. Hell, you have even wondered if there were schools there that allow everyone to get in. You're sure that you are reading and doing math wrong. How embarrassing.

Finally done, you place the food on a plastic plate you found. You made sure to wipe the grime off the plate and rinsed it with clean water before using it. Even though you can just eat out of the pan, you want to seem sophisticated like the outside. They don't eat out of pans or use dirty plates.

The food steams and is welcoming. Without a lot of utensils, you pick at it with your hands. It burns at first but you’re too hungry. The flavor bursts in your mouth. Even without the proper seasonings, it’s still heaven. You haven’t eaten in a while so you’ll take what you can get.

Suddenly, the boy, Feitan, enters your hut. You gasp and protectively cover your food. He brings his foot out. His shoe, which he stole, is untied again. You swallow the substance and point out, “I taught you how to tie them.”

“Tie.”

“I taught you.” You set your plate down.

“Tie.” You roll your eyes and pat your thighs. He walks over to you and places his dirt caked shoe on your lap. Slowly, you tie them.

“There, see? Come on now, you need to learn. A little boy can’t grow without tying his shoes.”

“I’m not little boy.” You give a breathy chuckle. “Of course you are, honey.”

He leans in close to your face. “I’m older than you.”

...He does hang out with Phinks, who is a couple years older than you. In fact, it is rare to see them apart. Is it possible that it’s true? Is Phinks the type to be friends with someone who is younger?

Curious, you ask, “Then why are you so short?” His eyes widened in shock. Then, strangely, he laughs while patting your head harshly. Studying his face revealed what looks like the beginning of a sinister smile.

He looks at your plate and sits down in front of you. You’re both on the dirt floor.

“Give me.” You scoff and snap at him. “No! Find your own!”

The little beast decided that the two of you should ‘share’. He smacks on his food, making you want to punch him repeatedly. He’s gaunt and bony, but not really bad like last time. His face has a tiny bit of roundness to it.

“Stop staring.” He inhales a tomato. “You look better than last time.”

“Better?” He cocks his head to the side. The remnants of the tomato smeared a little on his cheek.

“Yeah, healthier.” He stares at you for a second. “Thanks.” His accent is thick, and you still can’t place it. Nevertheless, you understand. Afterwards, much to your surprise, he sleeps in your hut now that his belly is full. Satisfied and strangely not afraid, you follow suit. It’s nice to have a friend, however strange.

You are barely awake, sleep still heavy in your eyes, when you see him pop up. Drool is crusted on his cheek, and he rubs his eyes. He yawns and then spots you next to him. Feitan eyes the entry of the hut then back at you. He puts the only cover you have on you then pets your head.

Before he leaves, he places his bat in your hand. Feitan secures the entry as he exits the hut.

_____________

It’s been years since you and Feitan have talked. You've gotten familiar with him but when Sarasa had died in such a disrespectful and gruesome way, he withdrew. In the meantime, you waited for him and studied a power you discovered. No matter the eyes that were always on you, you didn’t care about the mysterious and hidden audience.

You don’t know what it’s called but it started when you witnessed some kid about to get her ass handed to her by some thugs. The man had moved a pair of scissors without using his hands. They aimed right towards her and in a moment of instinct, you rushed to push her out of the way. Unfortunately, the scissors stabbed you in the shoulder.

It was then did you feel the rush of a force so strong, that it knocked everyone away from you. A faint white light that glowed from your skin that only your eyes could see. As you looked around in shock, you saw that same glow coming from that man and his friends.

You were gasping when you fell to your knees. “I-I’m sorry. I can’t be here!” The girl your age ran for her life and left you behind. In a moment of fear, you call out to her to help you. You were so afraid; you couldn't tell if the screams were hers or yours. Given the situation, you were too rattled, terrified and hurt, to focus.

The men shook for a second then got up to face you. The blood from your shoulder wasn’t stopping its flow. Crimson red stained your clothes and the ground. It was all so strange, such an unusual feeling of adrenaline that you couldn’t help but memorize. Almost as if the world had finally made sense. Every single thing became so much clearer to your dismay.

The men came towards you with malicious intent. While putting pressure on your injury, you managed to kick one of their legs, causing them to buckle and hurt his knee. He screamed in agony.

“G-get away!” You try to stand. The press of your hand on the wound isn’t helping. Is it supposed to bleed this much? It hit your shoulder, but did it nick something?

You need to stop it, to heal and get away from them. In this city, people like you are in danger from men like them. If you don’t get away, you’ll end up like Sarasa. She was never really close to you. She was a nice girl who always looked for video tapes, so you'd help her from time to time. Yet, her death scarred everyone since it was so close to home. And now, you no doubt are facing the exact same situation. Wrong place, wrong time.

Same fate.

You fell back on the ground and looked at the sky. It has always been so dirty, just like the city due to pollution. Still so young, you know you won’t see what it really looks like. In the corner of your eye, you spot something green. A small clover with four leaves.

One time, an old man told a story of how four-leaf clovers are a sign of good luck. By the intense feeling and pressure of your eyes, you know it’s not true. Pain in all ways makes tears fall from your eyes. Lips wobbling at how unfair everything is and that you will never see the sun. The outside must really be heaven, and for someone so young who hasn’t committed a sin, you are wondering if you can go.

Suddenly, flowers that you never knew blossomed around you. The soft petals touched your filthy skin and got rid of the aches. The blood on your shoulder faded from view as well as the pain. A soft and beautiful hum whispered in your ear. You truly believed it to be in your head, an imagination of paradise as you leave. Heaven, they call it. You must be close to the outside world then.

This must be it, you thought. There was no pain from a strike or fear. Just closed eyes and peace. Something you know you couldn’t get in the atrocious city.

It ends. You were shocked as the beautiful flowers disappeared. Heaven, would you reject someone?

The men didn’t hurt you. The one whose knee was broken was able to move his leg. His red hair kind of glowed in the sun, and brown eyes were wide. He muttered a soft ‘thank you’ and walked away without a limp. His friends followed.

After that, you had realized that your ability wasn’t anything like scissors or something scary. It was to heal and be healed.

Although after immediately learning this, you didn't go out of your way to find the source of the screams in the direction the people went. First was the girl, then the group of men. After what you went through, it didn't seem like a good idea.

Feitan, somehow, got wind of it. Now in his later teen years you both estimate, he sits still and points to his arm. There’s a gnarly gash oozing blood. You wonder how he’s not feeling this and if he is, how he isn’t even fazed.

You gently pick up his arm and inspect it. He's thin but has clear definition in his arms. You haven’t seen him in so long that you are surprised by his growth. Hell, he’s taller now. Still short, but at least he grew.

In a jar, you take a premade petal. This is a way for you to save energy and reach people when you physically can’t tend to. Acting as a pill, you make sure that people can get infections out. For some reason, illnesses and infections are particularly tricky and tiring for you.

“Eat this, Feitan.” He frowns. “No.” You sigh. “It’s infected. You need to eat this so I can heal it right.”

“It’s not.”

Rolling your eyes you bring his wound to his face. “This, this is infected. It's literally oozing pus.” How long did this go on? Was he really that hesitant to just come and see you?

He growls and takes the delicate petal and places it in his mouth. “Stop pouting.”

“Not pouting. It’s nasty.” He’s not wrong. It has a bitter taste and when chewed, a slimy texture. The color of the disintegrating petal leaves a stain in the mouth as well. If not for the benefits, no one would even bother. They'd be just as offended as Feitan.

The pus stops and clears up. “Alright, this’ll leave a scar.”

You blow on your hand so that flowing blossoms surround him. Beautiful shades of pink and white go through his hair. With a gentle caress, you see the flurries touch his wound. It starts to encourage his own healing.

As much as you want to do the full thing, you’re tired. All day you’ve been working and collecting payments. Not to mention facing the disappointment of them being useless. You want to kick yourself for not getting paid first. But the sight of those grateful people and healed kids softens your heart.

Soon, it stops once the injury becomes manageable. You’re about to wrap it when a hand stops you. “What’s this?”

“Feitan, I'm tired. You caught me at a bad time.” You try to move your hand but he stops you. He's a lot stronger than you remember. “Heal.”

His fluency isn’t the greatest still.

“I’m tired! Just let it heal the rest of the way.” No matter how much you try to yank your hand away, his grip is too strong. “Please, Feitan...”

Surprisingly, he lets go and from what you can see, the subtle white glow appears and heals him the rest of the way, leaving small flames. “Feitan...what was that?”

He rolls his eyes and plops down on a chair. He says nothing and just relaxes, or at least that’s what he’s trying to make it seem like. It has been a while since you’ve seen him, but that doesn’t make you blind to his behaviors…sometimes.

“As a transmuter, I can heal a little by using enhancer,” He looks at you suspiciously. “You know nothing about nen?”

“Nen?” You put the gauze and other items in a black bag. It was found in the safe zone by the church. Apparently, it belonged to a doctor from the outside. The bag had all kinds of necessities. Gauze, medicine, some syringes, disinfectant, a thermometer, all kinds of stuff that you’ve had to use sparingly. What you save in the bag, you make up for with your ability.

He smacks his lips and calls you a ‘dumb brat’. “You use nen but don’t know it?”

Sighing, you ask, “What is nen, Feitan?”

“What you do. Use your aura and stuff.” His arms are crossed, and he looks at you expectantly. You gather that he likes knowing things you don’t. It’s like a weak power trip.

But it is nice to finally have a name and explanation for it. And that’s what he did this time. Visiting you for a moment just to pick with you while teaching you something you should have known.

“Wait, if you could do that, why’d you come here?” He just shrugs.

------

When you see him again, he brings his friends along. You immediately recognize some of them. Phinks, who ran with Feitan, the boy who always collected books, and Uvogin, the giant who was always claiming territory and beating people up.

Feitan should be twenty now. It’s hard to tell since he looks youthful. He points to his friend, the boy with the books, and orders, “Heal.”

“You can do it, Feitan, remember?” You were in the middle of cleaning when he and the rest of his posse pop up. They look flustered and a little worse for wear.

“Heal.” He always does crap like this. You roll your eyes at first. The body they carry tugs on your strings a bit.

“Fine. Put him on the table.” Thankfully, it’s cleaned, and a new wrapping has been placed on it. Gently, the man is put on it. You spot the cross tattoo on his forehead. Ah, that’s where Feitan has been. Lately, there’s been whispers of the Phantom Troupe. Merciless killers and thieves from Meteor City that have been gaining respect over the years. Your opinion of them isn’t the greatest but it also isn’t the worst. You appreciate them for standing up for Meteor City, but their methods are questionable.

You sigh and begin to undress the boy with the cross. “Is that necessary?”

You continue to pull off his clothes, not bothering to answer the question the girl asked. If she can’t understand why you need to remove his clothes, then that’s on her. She scoffs after another female voice answers her question.

You finally see his wound. Feitan can heal himself to a degree, but you don’t think this guy can. The gash is deep and sewed with makeshift stitches. There’s no nen involved, surprisingly. Given that Feitan is an avid user, you thought his friends would be keen on it too.

“He’s a specialist. Enhancer techniques are harder for him.” Phinks spoke. He must've understood your confusion.

“And the stitches?” You gently investigate the area. It’s an angry red around it and, like you suspected, infected. It wasn’t properly taken care of. You begin to remove the stitches. You wonder what the thread is made of and how long this has been going on.

“He,” Phinks points to Uvogin. “And him,” He then points to another large man with long ears. “Thought they could do it. Normally, Machi heals us but they were away from her. Her stitches would have helped him but not any infections.”

“Ah, well this requires more than I thought.” You touch the ground and out comes a beautiful swirl of flowers. Underneath the moving petals is a blooming sunflower. It picks the guy up so he rests on it. The bed of the flower glows softly and becomes warm. His once wincing face is now peaceful. His injury is slowly closing and the red is beginning to turn pink.

“The downside of this is that it takes a while. It’ll be all healed up in about an hour or so.”

“ An hour?” Uvogin, who has abandoned his afro and traded it for long standing hair. “Feitan, I thought you said she was good? We could’ve gone to that one guy and got it done right then and there.”

“She’s the best. Wait.” His hands are in his pockets and he moves. Feitan looks around and touches whatever he pleases. You try not to focus on his compliment. You wonder if the reason he moved from your line of sight is because he got embarrassed. If so, you won’t tease him. The Troupe are killers, afterall.

You start to feel the weight of your nen. This technique requires more effort than the others. Feitan explained it to you but you never did get the hang of it. You just know what to do instinctively. You were proud that you could do any of this without a teacher.

What you’re sure of is that this man, whatever his name is, is giving you a crap ton of money after this or there’ll be hell to pay.

You feel something tickling the side of your face. The wrapper is red and unopened. You take the energy bard gratefully. “Thank you, Feitan.”

A couple of the Troupe members complain about the time. Machi or Mochi or whatever, the pink haired one, especially complains and criticizes for some reason. You have never seen this person before in your life yet here she is pouting.

“You okay?” You see the blond boy with big blue eyes study you closely. He moves closer to your face. A smile never leaves his face. Before you can answer, Feitan, who hasn’t left your side since you ate the bar, answers for you.

“She’s fine. I’m watching her.”

You hear a couple of snickers. Feitan glares daggers at the offenders. You take a deep breath and ignore the friends who decided to crowd inside your hut. The boy with the forehead tattoo lies peacefully. Although you are running out of steam, his wound is healing nicely. One of the women, you believe it’s Pakunoda, comes to you and bends down.

“Can I get you anything?” You discover that your throat is absolutely parched. “Some water, please.”

If you remember correctly, the last you saw of her was when her head was shaved and some outsider kid did it. She had always kept it short. And now, it’s on her shoulders and very sleek. Over the years she’s drastically changed.

You drink the water, which to your surprise, is clean. “Hey, how did this happen anyway?”

“Don’t ask questions.” Feitan quickly shuts you down. Before you can ask anything more, you notice the entire group of friends are quiet.

“It’s nothing for you to worry about, okay?” You nod at the blonde boy with blue eyes and a permanent smile. Completing the hour, the tattoo guy is up. He’s immediately impressed. “My name’s Chrollo Lucilfer. Yours?” He puts out his hand for you to shake.

“Yeah, the book collector-theater nerd-kid, right? My name’s-” Before you can even answer, Feitan does it for you.

He gives your name and how your Nen works. He’s quick with it, too. You side eye Feitan for a second. “Thanks, Feitan. I, uh, really needed a spokesperson.”

“Ah, I guess it can’t be helped then, Feitan?” There’s tension in the air. It’s thick and heavy. By the looks of it, neither one is backing down. “Um, it’s not a big deal that he answered for me, you do know that, right?”

Seconds pass through this. You look around for anyone to intervene with this. Whatever the hell is going on, it’s deep. “Since Fei explained it, why not have her join?”

“Positions are filled.” Chrollo still stares directly into Feitan’s eyes. Phinks nervously chuckles, once again trying to defuse the situation. “Fei, come on. No fighting. Right boss?”

Suddenly, it’s lifted. Chrollo has what looks like a practiced smile on his face. “That’s true. That’s a rule.”

Chrollo takes a glance at you. “She obviously means a lot to you. Clearly, she’s an asset, too.”

“I’m right here, jackass.” Feitan smacks you on the head. “I’ll handle her.”

The others sigh in relief. Momentarily, you’re a little offended. “It was nice meeting you.”

They exit your hut right after, leaving Feitan behind. “So. those were your friends, huh?”

“Watch tongue.” You smack your lips and roll your eyes. There is blood on the floor and on the table. The furniture is in disarray due to all of his friends having no home training. “I haven’t seen you in forever and this is how you greet me?”

He frowns. “I say hello all the time.” You turn to him. “When? I didn’t see you.”

Feitan huffs and kicks the ground lightly. You get up to move the furniture back to place. Your movements are slow and everything seems so much heavier. Everything is swirling right before your eyes. Your head hurts and yet feels so light. Before you meet the ground, Feitan takes you to the couch and lays you down.

“I haven’t seen you in so long, little boy…” Those were the last words you say before you drift to sleep.

Hours later, you wake up at the sound of birds. There is a beautiful blue blanket on you with golden yellow designs. It’s thick and so warm you could stay forever. You’ve never owned anything like this.

Slowly you get up and search for Feitan. He’s nowhere to be found much to your dismay. Last night’s conversation still stays with you. He insisted that he says hello all the time. That he sees you regularly, yet, you haven’t seen him at all.

The blanket, the wind chime, the medical supplies, the various decorations with stones, paint and if you weren’t smart, you’d say gold. Could Feitan have been the one to give you gifts? Silently watching over you and in his own way, saying hello? You have felt like you were being watched for years.

____________

“Do you understand why I didn’t welcome you?”

“No, and I never will. Now please, leave me alone.” You feel convicted by turning a man of God away, but can he truly be one when he left a child to suffer? You were in the cold, wind, and rain, alone in one of the worst parts of the city. All you had was Feitan, and he was there once in a blue moon. After the rejection from the church, you took it upon yourself to care for others as no one had ever cared for you. Although hurt and afraid, you chose not to spread that toxicity. You decided that no matter the size of change, it still works.

However, you will not fall prey to the same people. For instance, that girl you saved and this priest. How can he expect your services with no repentance or atonement? You forgive, but like hell will you forget.

Damn…you were so sure you were over the pain of your past. That the change you made within yourself and how you treat people so no one else suffers like you, would stick. Alas, all it takes is one person to bring it down. You want to kick yourself because of the regression. Then again, the hostility isn’t your fault.

You walk into the hallway with small statues, stone walls, and large windows. The sun shines brightly through them, making the church seem prettier than it is.

“Please-”

“She said no.” Feitan stands with his hands in his pockets, the sun shining on his pale skin. It has been a few months since the incident with Chrollo. You haven’t seen any of them but have felt eyes on you, which you have deduced was Feitan. However, you learned the truth of the blanket. The name stitched on it belonged to an old clan, the Kurta, that was mutilated, tortured, and murdered by the Phantom Troupe. It disgusts you. The blanket is comfortable but still.

Feitan, the boy who you taught to tie his shoes, gave you a trophy of his crime. You wanted to burn it, or bury it in the memory of the Kurta, yet you couldn’t. It’s a gift from the one consistent person in your life. Your protector and giver. So, you folded it and put it in a box.

Now, here he is like he’s done nothing wrong. Defending you and putting the man that’s been with the city for ages in his place. You’re shocked at his behavior.

“Feitan, surely you must understand!”

“Shut up.” Father Rizole took a step back in surprise. Feitan was one of his regulars, if you remember correctly. This must be a surprise for the aging priest.

You hum at the scene. Even though the rumors of what the Troupe has done bothers you, it doesn’t mean you aren’t opposed to the benefits. The priest backs up and sighs.

“If you ever reconsider, please, let me know. We could use your help.”

“I could’ve used it too.” You end the conversation there and leave. Feitan soon follows you. He’s silent on his feet and very fast. Feitan was behind you but his quick feet caught up in less than a second. Now, he walks right at your side.

“So, you just decide when you want to see me?”

Feitan shrugs. “I don’t know.”

Sighing, you turn to him and ask, “What do you need this time?” The lower half of his face is hiding under a plain cowl now. His eyes show all of the emotion needed. “I just hang out.”

The sun is too hot for this nonsense. Sweat trickles down your face and back, becoming sticky. “So that’s why you’re here, right? I’m shocked.”

Before he can say your name, you continue. “Oh! And let's not forget the little massacre that took place, huh? Yeah, being used to heal your friend from that was really fun.”

“I didn’t.”

You roll your eyes. “No, just that one guy. That’s who to you, again?”

“Boss.” You scoff at his short answer. Then, you think about the possibility. “Your boss? Then…doing that to the Kurta, wasn’t your idea, was it?”

“No, not mine.” His hands remain in his pockets. His hair blows in the wind slightly. You realize he hasn’t gotten a haircut in a while.

“If you could, you know, go back in time…would you still do it?”

“Yes.” No hesitation, no thought put into the answer. Just a plain as day answer and a tone that leaves no room for an explanation.

“So whatever he wants he just gets? As long as it aligns with your twisted mind, right?”

His eyes grow darker. “I save you.”

You point to the church. “No, no you didn’t. That guy wasn’t going to do anything to me. I had it handled.”

Shaking your head, you go to leave until a hand wraps around your wrist. “Boss takes nen. I didn’t let him.”

Was that what that was? That tension that day that was suffocating? Remembering that day, you start to form pieces. “Would he hurt you if you didn’t go along with his schemes?”

“No.”

Well there goes that idea. “Nevermind.”

You try to yank your wrist from his grip, but it’s iron tight. “Let me go!”

“I protect you, always. Bad people here, everywhere. I get dirty for you.” His face is indifferent but his words give it away. The plea for you to understand and realize, dare you say, his devotion to his friends. Does this include you?

Is that what it is? What friendship, this connection is? You are aware of the deeds the Troupe do. You understand why they thought it would be a good idea (somewhat anyway).

“Thank you, then.” He lets go of your wrist which was grabbed painfully tight. He trades that in for holding your hand instead. You are shocked at first, but if you make it a big deal, he’ll stop. You don’t want him to right now.

Not when you feel safe. You still want to kick yourself… and maybe throw in a punch.

_____

Apparently, the Troupe have gone their separate ways for now. They don’t cling onto each other for a long period of time after a job. It’s better that way since it has a lesser chance of them getting caught. They still hang out from time to time, though.

For you, you managed to get out of Meteor City after the argument with the priest. Feitan had gone to do another heist with Phinks, if you remember right. You took that moment to skip town. You never wanted to stay in the trash, anyway.

And you were right to! Everything you thought of as a child about the world outside was true! Sure, people can be rude and things can be corrupt, but you’re fed and resting. There are bright lights and kind people. It can be clean and the soap smells so good. Just the other day you got to experience a nail salon. Rather than stealing from you, the lady next to you, Jade, talked about her family. Her daughter is Ruby and her wife is Scarlet. Jade and Scarlet want another child. You offered the name Emerald.

In Meteor City, you would’ve had to fight. Now, you are making friends and offering beautiful names. It’s a stark contrast that is fully welcomed.

The sun is bright and the moon is sometimes round. It doesn’t always attract evil and can sometimes sing such a beautiful melody. There are pearls and diamonds. There are seasonings that make the food taste unbelievably good. It’s all expensive, but infinitely better than Meteor.

And Nen is a secret here. In the city, many knew about it and used it without discretion. Here it’s different. Like a secret identity for a hero. Your nen in particular isn’t used as much as it was before. Your ability was so tiring. Pretty and incredibly useful, but exhausting nonetheless.

It has been a few years since you saw him, but he’s seen you. He found you quickly, too. When you came home from your office job (which you are still ecstatic about, by the way) you noticed a new painting in your house. It was dull and in black and white. The painting is of a few plants that take the center stage. Actually, they’re your nen plants. In the background is what looks like your old city. Piles of rubbish and polluted air in black swirls. There are clouds above and a dark sun barely poking out.

It’s sad. Beautiful, but sad. You have wondered what he meant by it. You open the door to your apartment. It’s not much and one day you want to get a house.

The keys make a jingle when you set them on the countertop. The apartment is still dark, so you scramble to flip the switch. “Why you leave?”

You scream at the top of your lungs. Standing there nonchalantly is Feitan, who you haven’t had contact with in a hot minute. His hair is even longer than before. He wears a new cowl that has a skull on it over his face. His trench coat looks a little too big for him but he wears it well anyway.

“Uh, because I live here? What are you doing here?” You set your bag down and take off your short heels. Although he’s a murderer, you still feel safe with him.

He takes slow strides towards you. “ Why? I looked for you and you weren’t there.”

“You knew where I was. I got your presents,” You point to the painting. He hides his face a little in the fabric. “I like it by the way. Did you do it?”

“Shut up.” You sigh and walk into your kitchen. “I’ll make you something to eat.”

You begin to wash the rice. Your eyes switch from looking down to taking obvious glances at him. Right about now, he should be in his mid twenties. It’s amazing how long you’ve known each other. You remember him as that kid who didn’t know how to tie his shoes and him teaching you about Nen. Time flies so fast when you least expect it.

You crack the eggs and whisk them. The sound of the utensil against the bowl and the sizzle of the tomatoes in the pan is all that is heard. Feitan doesn’t make one sound. He opts to stare at you working and even has a glint in his eye which you think could be satisfaction.

“Do you still like this, by the way? I remember you snatching it.” You try not to smile at the memory.

“I do.” He hovers in your kitchen, just waiting, watching you do all of the work. Stingy bastard. After adding the seasonings, you could have never gotten in Meteor City, you fix him a plate. He happily accepts it and sits down on the floor.

“I have a tab-” Oh, the memory. Allowing yourself to smile, you sit with him and eat off of his plate. “We’re sharing. ”

He gives a slight growl but doesn’t do anything. “So, what brings you by?”

“I say hello.” You hum with a mouth full of food. “Well, hello to you too, little boy.”

He gives you a light kick. The two of you finish the plate. Both full, you just lay back and talk.

“How long are you staying?”

“Not long.” You’ll miss him. “Running from the cops again?”

“Need to hide out for a bit.” You nod, accepting his answer and that your connection will probably always be sweet moments. “It’s nice to have you here, even only for a moment.”

Feitan taps you again with his foot. “I’m always here. I say hello all the time.” You know and are fully aware of what he means. His odd little gifts decorate your house. To bones, to rugs, even a china set he stole. It’s routine for him to give you something, even when you don’t see him.

“Even though you run.” He kicks you again. The more you watch him, the more your chest tightens. He’s the only consistent thing in your life. Everything is fleeting. Your job is new as well as your relationship with your coworkers. But there is a line with them. Feitan is different.

“How long are we going to do this dance?”

“I don’t dance.” You roll your eyes and laugh. “I mean you coming by once in a blue moon.”

He shrugs. “I don’t know.” You nod. “Figures.”

He frowns. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean, that this whole thing is tiring. You come and go like some kind of feral cat.”

“So?”

You sputter, “ So I don’t appreciate it.” He takes off his long coat and reveals his chest, next goes his shoes. “I sleep here.”

“You can’t use me!” He gets up and goes in the direction of your room. “Feitan!” You pick up his clothes and set them aside. “Do you hear me? I wasn’t done talking!”

On your bed is a sprawled out Feitan. He looks at you with squinted eyes. “Shut up, I’m trying to sleep.”

Like always, he makes himself at home. You sigh, giving up on trying to talk to him. “Move over.”

He scoffs and reluctantly moves out of your way. You feel him tense up as you lay down. “This is my bed. I can sleep here.”

You face each other as you lay down. Neither of you say anything about how close you are. This is probably the closest you’ve ever been since you helped him tie his shoes the second time. You feel his eyes on you, making you nervous. “Stop staring at me.”

“Never sleep with someone in a while.” You know. The last time was with you, no doubt. At the time, you didn't think about it, if you remember correctly. It's hard to tell since it's been so long.

“The couch is that way.” He smacks his lips. “No, you go.” You open your eyes.

“Like I said, this is my bed.” Feitan doesn’t say anything about your ownership. Instead, he’s honest with you. “I’m tired.”

Instantly, you start to feel a little bad. In the city, no child was ever able to fully sleep. It was too dangerous, especially in the more dangerous districts. Him being honest about his state, you take it as a step.

“If you want to, I’ll be on the lookout.” His hands are next to yours. You grab them, just like he did those few years ago. “You can sleep now, Feitan.”

You don’t know when, don’t know how either, but you two do end up sleeping. His eyes are closed and his breath even. Your eyes flutter open and see that he’s got slight dark under eyes and his mouth leaking drool. Feitan looks peaceful, sleepy, like he hasn’t done this in a while.

The next morning, he’s gone with no evidence he was even there.

_________________

You watch on the tv screen above the bank about the attack on York New, a city not too far from you. The attack happened a few days ago but it’s still in the headlines. You don’t blame them, to be honest. It was an insane event that over two thousand people died!

You cling onto your boyfriend’s arm. He touches your hand reassuringly. His watch gleams in the moonlight and his suit is perfectly pressed. He's the entire package, he’s perfect. A good job, good manners, an honest man, and treats you well, too. He always holds the chair out for you and gets up when you leave the room. Just like a true gentleman.

When you first met, it was a classic coffee shop romance. Then it blossomed into a romantic and expensive dinner, the movies, a nighttime walk in the park, all of the classic dates. In every single one of them he was the perfect gentleman, the perfect man. You like him and how he treats you. How consistent he is. He's the type of man you can rely on.

Nevertheless, there is a bothersome voice in the back of your head that reminds you of someone he just isn’t. He’s not Feitan Portor. You don’t feel the contentment Feitan gives when the two of you sleep. You don’t study your boyfriend’s features like you did Feitan.

Dammit, why are you thinking of him? He’s not around and you haven’t seen him in what? Two or three years? So why think of him now. Plus, you haven’t received a gift or a ‘hello’ from him. For all you know, he could be dead.

“Are you alright?” You wake from your thoughts and look at your boyfriend. His hair is dark, blending in with the night. Eyes kind and green, a Grecian nose, and average sized lips revealing a dazzling smile. Not only is the very essence of him suave, but his looks are also perfect. Tall and handsome, well dressed and a smooth voice.

It's just that one five foot one pest that won’t get out of your head.

“Y-yeah just…it’s all so shocking. York New is literally over there.” You point past the river where more tall buildings reside in the distance.

“I know, I know.” He brings you in close to him. He places a kiss on your head. “Don’t worry, nothing will happen to you.”

Suddenly, the newscaster stops mid sentence and gasps. Before you know it, the Phantom Troupe have been named the offenders that caused all of this. Two thousand people. Feitan, did you really kill that many people?

“I would like to go home. I don’t feel the greatest.” He rubs your arm, you still being tucked into his side. Your excuse was a lie to cover the gnawing feeling towards Feitan and his deeds. Although the Phantom Troupe’s original intentions were from a decent stand point, it seems they’ve lost their way. Feitan has lost his way.

The gifts have stopped coming, him no longer saying hello. After the last time, when you made him familiar food and sat in a comfortable silence, he disappeared. This time, there was something about it that hurt. Like he didn’t want to come around. He didn’t want to say hello anymore. Or perhaps, he died which if confirmed, you would ache beyond help.

“The Phantom Troupe is dead.” The newscaster said. The crowd gasped, shocked that the most feared criminals in the world are gone. Did you jinx it? Curse the little boy who needed you to tie his shoes. The boy who liked your cooking and made sure you rested. Had strong faith in you, never doubting. Protected you from the shadows and held your hand.

Is he really gone?

You hide your face in your boyfriend’s jacket. Tears stream from your eyes at the thought of his grave. With the Troupe, his friends dead, you’d be the only one to truly mourn him. To remember his name beyond his violence.

You clutch your chest. “Are you okay? Does your chest hurt?” He grabs you by your shoulders, making you face him. He’s such a kind, decent man. But he’s not Feitan Portor.

“I just need to rest. I’ll call you tomorrow.” You give him a chaste kiss goodbye. Once he leaves, your chest hurts even more. You slide down as you look around at all the menace’s little gifts. The painting, the skull, the windchimes, everything he’s given you. Why, oh why, couldn’t you stay here long enough for your gift, Feitan?

Wait, what could you have given him anyway? He’s a thief that takes what he pleases and has nothing to wish for.

You lay on your couch and put your arm over your face. The tears refuse to stop for even just a second. You don’t know what you’re crying harder for. Feitan or the confusing feelings for him. Now that he’s gone, you can’t properly tell him. How can you explain it?

It’s heavy on your chest and tightens it. You want to feel his body heat no matter how hot the day is. There are no small flutters in your stomach at the thought of him. No, it's something in your heart. You want to stare at him, to memorize every feature he has. To hear his soft voice that is just a centimeter away from a whisper. Just melt in his touch, his presence. Wait, why is this happening? You barely knew him! Does that fact even matter though?

You slip your hand in your underwear, still staring at the ceiling, sniffling at the news of his death. You imagine the future. Seeing him walk into your house and setting his belongings on the table. Wrapping his arms around you and kissing your back. No matter how long you’ve known him, his stature never fails to amuse you. He’d paw at your body, tearing off your clothes. Feitan wouldn’t hesitate to use his hands for your pleasure.

You trace your fingers in the direction you think he’d go. Curling your fingers inside, thrusting them in harshly, knowing that he can only be gentle in his own way. Your back arches from the couch. You swear you can smell him and the faint metallic scent that he holds. The feeling of his ragged breath on your cheek you could swear is real.

You moan as you take that jump you’ve searched for. Thinking of how good Feitan would make you feel. You're relentless on yourself, still going as strong as he’d be. Adding another finger, going faster and faster on your clit. Your moaning gets louder as the indiscernible amount of time goes on.

‘ The Phantom Troupe is dead.’

You crash on the couch with one last gasp. The dream of the two of you ends in flames. The house, the passion, the years that go by in that home. Maybe even a child or two. Seeing him in the morning with a groggy voice is gone. Rubbing his eyes and saying he wants more eggs and tomatoes is no longer there.

What would your gift be to Feitan? Memories? Sex? Food? Nothing fits. He can have those with anyone.

You slip yourself out from your underwear. It didn’t distract you. Perhaps if you thought of your boyfriend, it would have. But the feelings you have towards Feitan went beyond physical. What is this? What do you call this?

Love? Time stops at the realization. It has to be that. That would have been your gift to him. Love. You cover your mouth as you admit it to yourself.

'I love you Feitan Portor. I won’t forget you. I love your messed up hair and soft voice. For how you didn’t reject me when the world did. I will do the same for you. I’ll look past your torturous ways and miss you anyway. Maybe the world will curse you, but I’ll mourn you. Bury you so no one can spit on you anymore. I love you Feitan.

I’m in love with you Feitan Portor. This is my gift to you. For you to know that you will not be forgotten even though I never got to tell you, to thank you for everything. For leaving the baseball bat with me to protect myself. For painting that picture for me. All of the little gifts you thought I’d like, too. Thank you for protecting me from the priest and the wolves that hunted me every day when we were young.'

You stare at the ceiling till the earliest of mornings. It’s still dark, still heavy with the night sky. There’s some rumbling in the distance, a flash of light in the sky. You don’t bother to confirm anything.

Just as you close your eyes, the window opens with a creak. You move your eyes to see the figure before you. The darkness covers it, only leaving the silhouette. “Why cry?”

You squint, trying to make out the features. “Are you real?”

“Very.” It must be a lie. A cruel humor the world has. “Stop crying.”

“I can’t. Not when you sound like him.” The figure cocks his head, that much you can see with the flash of lightning behind him. “Him?”

“Someone who can’t tie his shoes.” Your lip wobbles again. “I can tie them now.” The moon glows enough to show his face now as he steps up to you. Feitan’s delicate features peek out from his cowl.

You shake your head in denial. “It’s not real. It can’t be. You’re dead, Fei.” Your voice is hoarse from your sobs.

He looks shocked at your words. The man who looks like Feitan smacks your feet off the end of the couch so he can sit.

“I’ll miss you Feitan Portor.” The longer you stare at the imaginary man, the more you hurt. “Well, stop.”

He roughly wipes away the tears. “Ugly when you cry.” His face is close to yours. Since he’ll be gone by the time you come to your senses, you grab his face and kiss him. He sharply inhales, not expecting your sudden decision.

He growls against your lips, “Stupid brat.”

He feels real. He smells real, familiar too. You tell him such and with furrowed brows and a strong grip of his hand, he grabs your jaw and makes you look at him. “I’m real, you idiot.”

“They said you died…” You comb his hair through your fingers. It’s real, he's real . So, what’s going on? Before you can ask him, he cradles you. “Stop crying or I’ll go.”

Your lips wobble at his threat. Rather than listening to it, you hug him. He nestles on top of you, hips placed between yours. He’s light, lighter than you thought so it isn’t a bother.

“You’re so ugly when you cry. Don’t cry.” He holds you closer and kisses your head. Against your ear, you feel his lips move. You can’t tell what he’s mouthing. When the two of you comfortably slept those years ago, that was the closest you’ve been. Now, this beats that record. Face to face, body to body, and sharing breaths.

After a few moments of thunder and lightning, he kisses you gently. Not at all like the desperate one like before. Realistically, you know these feelings you have for him seem fake. You’ve only had a few moments with him. So, why are they so significant? Are they with him too? Is it possible that love can blossom quickly?

Gentle kisses turn passionate, never wanting to separate. Little nibbles on the right places and sucks on all of the best ones. Clothes leave, not wanting to get between the two friends, those who dance around each other. For the first time, they meet.

His hands reach your throat as he kisses you, making sure to give it a light squeeze. His weight is still on you, not hurting in the slightest. Feitan makes sure his hand reaches below and swirls his thumb on your bud. You gasp, surprised you were right about how he’d do it. Every ministration he does is exactly how it was pictured. Your hands don’t compare to it. Not by a long shot.

Despite his size, his hands are still bigger than yours. They reach deeper than you and are thicker too. In no time, you come, the bliss lasting a good minute before he sheathes himself inside. His thickness is more than you thought. It’s a bit of a stretch, but in a good way.

His gasps quicken with every thrust. You can tell that you're being loud, way louder than when you touched yourself. Feeling the rush and strength of his movements has you claw his back in ecstasy. He groans at the sensation. Finally, after this time of passion and intimacy, you both hold each other as you fall off of that cliff.

Feitan looks into your eyes. With a softness that no one in the world could’ve predicted the torturer of the Phantom Troupe to have, kisses you. “Don’t cry anymore. Don’t cry.”

“It’s hard not to when I know you’ll leave.” Silently, Feitan removes himself from inside you. It’s become routine, so you expect him to walk out. He lays back down, his head on your stomach. You run your fingers through his hair. He needs a haircut.

You wake up, not realizing that you went asleep in the first place. Before you can get up, you feel pressure on your stomach. Feitan rests on you still, eyes completely closed and his face peaceful. The two of you are naked and the only source of heat is each other. As much as you want to wrap your arms around him, you know he’ll react negatively or at least flinch.

Soon after, he stretches and rubs his face against your stomach. Like before, he drooled in his sleep. “Good morning.”

He grunts in response and sits up on his heels. It takes him a moment to remember the night before. His eyes widen as he looks you up and down, making you highly aware of your current state. You cover yourself with a blanket draped over the couch.

“I have to go.” Ah, right. He’s a cat.

He gets dressed. Once he has his boots on, you see him tie them the way you taught him. “Proud of you. You finally learned huh?”

“Brat.” You laugh a little at him. Once he��s done you ask, “Will I ever see you again?"

He cradles your face. “I come back.” You nod, holding back tears. He studies your face and settles on your eyes. He must have realized that you were trying not to cry. His hands still remain on your face as he kisses you. He lingers there for a minute. A parting kiss, a meaningful one.

Something tells you that this feral cat isn’t going away anytime soon. That he’ll always be constant and you won’t be totally alone. A companion you won’t see everyday and only for a night.

This is the gift you’ll give him. You’ll be home for him.

___________________

Months later, news about the Chimera Ants came out. You had already broken up with your boyfriend and heard he had left town to avoid them. Of course, you followed suit and got the hell out of there.

Without any plan, you moved back to Meteor City, where you thought that they wouldn’t be. Alas, that was stupid. You made a home base in the residential area. Not knowing that Meteor City was plagued by the wretched beasts.

By God’s grace, you managed to avoid them due to you being in the residential district. News that the Phantom Troupe were home to fight them ran rampant. The thought of Feitan made you nervous and you don’t know why.

Suddenly, right as you put away your dishes, the door opened. You grabbed a knife and faced the intruder. Standing there was the Phantom Troupe, who once again, barged into your home like they owned the place.

“What the hell?” You shout. The first one is Phinks with a wide smile. “There she is! Fei, I found her!”

You put your hand on your hip. “Seriously, what are you doing her-you’re dragging in mud, take off your shoes!”

“It’s only a little.” Phinks pouts. “I don’t care! You don’t live here.”

Phinks and his friends grumble as they do as they’re told. The last one to enter the house is Feitan, who is notably holding his left arm. Without being told, he removes his shoes.

“Feitan…” He hasn’t faced you yet. “What happened to your arm?”

“I’m injured too, (Y/n)!” The smiling boy with round eyes whines. You have no idea what his name is. Only that he and the rest are in Feitan’s gang.

“Alright, let me see.” He lays down on your clean table and says, “It’s all over. I need the full treatment!”

“Ugh, fine.” You grumble under your breath about the disrespect and your poor table. Finally, Feitan sits on one of the pushed aside chairs. He says, “I need it too.”

“Big babies.”

You heal the biggest cry baby completely. The blond, whose name you now know as Shalnark, stretches. “If it weren’t for you, I would’ve been hurting all day!”

Rolling your eyes, you turn to Feitan who has been silent. He holds out his arm for you. You take the limb and inspect it.

“Completely shattered.” He grunts in agreement. He stares into your eyes and gives you a familiar slight smile. You notice that his friends are quiet, not a sound or word among them.

“You guys alright?” You ask. The girl shakes her head yes and ‘whispers’ to the rest. “Should we leave them alone?”

“Probably.” A mummy with boxing gloves answers. You’ve never seen him before in your life.

“Uh, we’ll check the place out. Y’know, make sure it’s safe.” Shalnark shoos the little kid out and into a separate room, your bedroom. “We’ll clear this out in case you guys need it!”

You huff and roll your eyes. Feitan’s cheeks are red and he’s glaring daggers at his friends. The girl goes outside with the remaining three to check the area. You and your feral cat are alone.

“What are they checking for? I’m in a residential area.”

“Ants.”

“They’re here? In the safe zone?” You begin to panic until he grabs your hand. “You’re safe now. They’re not in the city anymore.”

“Wha-how? What’s going on?”

He pinches you lightly, encouraging you to heal his wounds. “Oh, right, right.” Flowers of all colors circle around. They begin to smooth over Feitan’s wounds. You take a second to wipe the blood off of his lip, letting there be some room for the petals to go.

“How’s the other guy look?”

“She's toasted.” You smile. “Atta boy.”

He’s healed, the petals and flowers disappear. You lick your lips at the sight of his bare chest. You didn’t notice before due to the audacity of these heathens barging in.

His heart rate quickens. “You leave again.”

You nod. “Yeah, yeah I did. I had to, Fei. the Chimera Ants invaded. I had to run.”

“With your boyfriend?”

You let out a small gasp. “ No. How do you know that?” He crosses his arms and leans back in the chair. “You lie.”

“I didn’t lie to you. I just never said anything.”

“Words of a liar.” You scoff at him. “I did not lie to you. I lied to him. You don’t have any business with our relationship.”

At first, he was looking at his lap. Those grey eyes of his immediately found a new target to glare at. “You’re not with him anymore. ”

“No. Why does that matter?” He begins to tap his foot lightly. “Why did you break up?”

“You hungry?” You start to get up until you’re tugged down. “Why?”

When you don’t answer, he whispers in your ear. “Because I fucked you?” Your face is so warm.

“If we run, we can still make it out.”

“Why are we running?” A small voice asks.

“Because I think they need the room.”

“Will you two shut up?!” You are two seconds away from running out of your own damn house. You stand and his hands hold you by your hips. “Tell me why you leave him?”

“Because of you.” It’s embarrassing to tell him your feelings. Hopefully, he can read your mind or something and shut up. He sighs and stands, walking over to you without a hitch. He kisses you.

“That’s what you get for lying.” He’s not remorseful or even boastful. Feitan takes your answer in stride. “No more leaving. Stay so I can find you.”

“You’ll always find me, remember?”

______________

Time after that, you were stuck in charge of Chrollo’s lover or something. She’s not too bad but clearly traumatized. Anytime you’d tell her to go with you, she’d look shocked. Like she was surprised she could leave. You were suspicious of her relationship with Chrollo. Something didn’t sit right with you whenever he or Feitan came up. She’d tense up. She never talked about it either. From what you understand with the little information you have, is that she was a former member that raised an orphan and that Chrollo loved her immensely. Perhaps too much.

From what you know, there was a big showdown on the Dark Continent and the boat that was taking a voyage to the fake one. The Phantom Troupe were on that one at first, fighting Hisoka Marrow. He was a sore loser that got humbled and decided to attack again.

Amazingly, only a few died. You didn’t want to know the details or anything. You can’t go through that again. So, after that news, you and Chrollo’s lover parted ways. She went on to find a kid she raised. You, on the other hand, decided to settle out of Meteor City. This was almost a year ago.

You have an apartment now in the town where you and your boyfriend lived, right next to York New. It’s basic, not fitting any aesthetic or anything. The good thing about it is that it’s bigger than your first one. It’s two bedroom and has a good price.

Feitan hasn’t reappeared. It tore you to shreds. You’ve managed to piece yourself together bit by bit, but you are a hollow version of yourself. Surviving and not enjoying the little things you used to. You even saw Jade, Scarlet, Ruby, and the new child, Emerald. Even that heartwarming moment didn’t fulfill you. However, it was the first time you smiled in a while.

You stir the food in the pot. Since it’s a little chilly, you made soup. You put the lid over the pot, letting it cook. There’s a knock on the door. You open it and see the man you’ve waited for.

Feitan is in dark clothing and has a large scar on his face. There’s no cowl over him, or a large trench coat. His hands are in his pockets, and he looks at you expectantly. You realize that you’ve just been standing there, you move to let him in. Once again, he makes himself at home.

“How’ve you been?”

“You leave again.” He states bluntly. His eyebrows are furrowed and has a frown on his face.

“Bold of you, very bold.” You move around him. “Why did you go?”

“Because I’d never stay in that city forever. The Ants were gone, the world settled. So why couldn’t I? That place is gross anyway.”

He sits on the barstool and cracks his neck. You ask a question right after he sits. “How long you here for?”

You don’t know why you asked that. He’ll only be here for a moment. A while ago, you had made the decision to accept it as your gift to him. To love and mourn him when the world won’t. When news about the Phantom Troupe hit, you couldn’t bear to hear it. Their trip to the fake Dark Continent, then their corrected course to the right one, ended in a battle with them facing Hisoka and Illumi and everything else over there.

It was too hard for you to think about. That doesn’t mean you didn’t mourn and that you’ve snapped out of it.

“For good.”

You look up into his eyes. For the first time in a long time, he’s smiling with soft eyes. You see that he has a dimple on his left cheek. “W-what about-”

“Done for a while. Maybe forever. I know I’m staying.”

“But your friends, where are they?” He shrugs even though you see the tension. “Separate. We split for a bit.”

He rubs his shoulders nervously. “Can I stay with you?”

“Wow, you’re asking? Shocked.” You tap on the counter. The weight you’ve been carrying is lightened. “Feitan?”

“Yes?” He gets off of the stool and makes his way around the counter. “You know how you give me all those gifts?”

He nods his head. “Well, this is my gift to you, Feitan Portor. You can stay as long as you like.”

He wraps his arms around you. He’s hugging you. This time, you aren’t afraid to hold him back and squeeze. Maybe, just maybe, this is what home is?

If the Phantom Troupe resurrects, at least you know he’ll always come home. That you two will be a constant force for each other. No matter if it does or doesn't, you two aren't dancing but admitting things you couldn't. This is home, a gift for each other.

#feitan portor #feitan x reader #feitan porter x reader #hxh #hxh fanfic #slight yandere #q #phantom troupe #hunter x hunter #hxh feitan #idk what to put here rn

113 notes · View notes

writing-rat · 6 months

Text

You're Just Like My Son

Pairings: Rio Morales and Miles Morales, Miles Morales and Jefferson Morales

Content: Miles Morales coming out as Spider-Man, just family, fluff!

Summary: Miles Morales is Spider-Man. He thinks he is hiding it well from his family. He doesn't realise he is a bit obvious however due to his dad having some hints until it is too much and he gets confronted...

WC: 2688

One long day and Miles was tired. He had just finished a few tests but he knew he had to patrol around town, not wanting to let criminals run rampant around the city. He knew that he was too tired for it but he felt like it was his responsibility to take care of the city. He still had a lot to learn too. He had been Spider-Man for a month after all. He actually learned how to swing down to a T. He was still learning how to fight while swinging though.

He was currently swinging around in his old Spider-Man suit while Aunt May helped him make a new Spider suit whenever he could go over. It wasn’t as often as he’d like but it would have to do. He also was still growing so they thought it would be good if they waited 3 months before finishing it. He was still a boy going through puberty and growing after all, never mind the fact that he was also becoming Spider-Man which would make him taller.

As he was in his thoughts looking around, that was when he saw a robber running out of a store. He was quick to swing over and web him up, leaving a sticky note and grabbing the money. ‘Caught by your friendly Spider-Man’ he had written on the note before he went into the store and handed over some money. That’s when he swung away just as the cops arrived.

Today would be easy, or so he thought. He saw his father chasing a criminal so he immediately swung over to help. Eventually, he was just about in front of the criminal. “Hi,” Miles teased the criminal before he went to try and help catch him… at least until he was punched right in the eye causing him to cover his eye quickly and blindly webbing the criminal. “Fuck,” Miles grunted out as it was a hard punch to his eye. He was sure it would bruise too which would make it obvious to his dad since he had seen it.

“Thank you Spider-Man,” the police officer said and MIles nodded, removing his hand. “It is no problem Officer Morales,” he spoke in his fake deep voice and held his hand out. Jefferson meanwhile shook it and was looking at his guys, telling them to get the criminal. “Hey Spider-Man, can I ask you a question?” Jefferson asked.

“Sure,” Miles answered, raising his eyebrow as he was genuinely curious. “How old are you?” he asked, looking at him. “You don’t have to say your exact age. I just… I want to know how young you are because it is way too dangerous for a teenager and I am sure you are one,” he explained.

“I am 14,” Miles spoke before he was nodding and swung off, leaving Jefferson shocked at how young he was. He wanted to try and stop him right then and there, he didn’t want a kid to be seriously hurt.

It was Friday and after classes so Miles was bound to be coming through the door soon. Rio was cooking Miles’ favourite meals as he did well on his tests and was finally setting in and doing his homework on time. Rio did make a point to say it wouldn’t happen often though which the young boy understood.

Soon enough Miles was home and dropped his stuff down respectfully. “Mamá, papá, hola,” he called out.

“Miles!” Rio called out happily before she gasped. “Are you ok?” she immediately added.

“Yeah! Just… bumped into a streetlight was all,” he spoke, smiling. “Don’t worry, I went to the school nurse about it. She said it’s ok,” he added with a soft smile before hugging his mom who hugged him back. Jefferson soon walked out of their bedroom then.

“Looks like you’re matching with Spider-Man,” he decided to joke as he went over and joined their hug. Miles panicked a little before he quickly calmed down.

“Really?” he asked. Jefferson nodded with a smile. He was just glad it was by a streetlight instead. He did have a thought about him being Spider-Man but it couldn’t be possible.

It was just after Miles’ birthday and Miles had a sponsorship for the first time. It was for one of his favourite sports brands too. Adidas. He had a photoshoot and everything with it too and got to keep the clothes. He had tried on sweatpants, jackets, shirts, shorts and shoes. In fact he started to wear them daily too including the jackets when it was cold.

Whenever he walked around town and saw photos of him, he just felt pride. No one knew it was him but himself. Everyone seemed to notice the new clothes he got but he just excused it with birthday presents and money. Ganke was keeping his secret luckily and actually called the cops for him a few times when he needed them. He would pay him some money each time, sure, but it was worth it. He was getting more and more sponsorships and photoshoots. In fact he was being called by magazines for interviews and photoshoots which he was taking whenever he could.

In fact he was glad when he got a baby powder one as he was feeling awkward buying a lot of baby powder dressed as Spider-Man. No way was he doing it while not as Spider-Man. Most people knew his father after all. Sure, the sponsorship did get him cancelled but once he reworked the writing and explained what he meant then most was fine.

It was another Friday and Miles was coming back from school with a new coat and sweatpants on but had on a plain white T-shirt underneath. Once again he greeted his family before they noticed the clothes. “New clothes?” Jefferson asked. Miles was nearly panicking but he nodded.

“Yeah! Used a bit of my birthday money you know?” he responded and Jefferson nodded.

No way his son was Spider-Man. He was smart enough to not do the dangerous things that the other teenager was doing.

It was just after lunch on a Sunday afternoon and Miles was stretching. “Thank you mamà,” Miles spoke with a smile and Rio nodded. “Always Miles,” she spoke and smiled as his dad was on shift.

“I’m gonna go on a walk is that ok?” Miles asked respectfully. Jefferson looked up and was nodding. “Of course,” Rio spoke with a smile, happy to see her son going out.

Miles smiled, hugging both his parents before he left the house. That was when Jefferson’s phone rang. “Hello,” he spoke, pausing for a bit whenever he responded to questions. “You need me in? Ok, I’ll be a minute,” he responded to whoever was speaking before hanging up. “Mi amor, I need to go down to the office. I will see you at dinner though,” he spoke to her smiling gently.

“Of course! Don’t be home too late, don’t want Miles to miss you at dinner after all,” she chuckled.

He nodded as he left, annoyed by the fact there was another supervillain event. He just hoped Miles wouldn’t run into it. He proceeded to run down the stairs, wondering why he didn’t pass by Miles but figured he just went down quicker. Soon enough he was at his car, speeding off.

Miles meanwhile was swinging around, following after the villain. He was just wanting to quickly get it sorted out so it wasn’t too suspicious. He was sure his dad was catching on though…

Miles had left to go out into town to go around the shops which left Jefferson home alone as Rio was at her job. He was just tidying around the house, not wanting it to be a mess when his wife arrived home. He was hoovering around when he noticed Miles's notebook was on the floor near the door. He was confused as to why as he picked it up and put it on the side, continuing with the cleaning of the house. He would probably look into why it was potentially dropped there because there was no way it was an accident.

After an hour, he was done cleaning as the apartment had been dusted, hoovered and the dishes had been washed. He was happy with how it looked as he was grabbing Miles's notebook but it slipped out of his grasp. He quickly went to pick it up before he saw what page he landed on. It looked like a girl with shaved hair on one side in a Spider-Man costume, except he had never seen someone look like her, Spider-Woman or not. That’s when he decided to investigate more, seeing tickets from a bus ride that took him to the Hudson Valley and also his Uncle Aaron as the prowler. He was wondering how he knew.

That was when he thought about how the media had told the world he was the prowler so he assumed it was that, ignoring the fact that Aaron was wearing the Prowler costume but that could also be explained away as him being in the news as the Prowler. That’s when he put the notebook on Miles’s desk, looking around the room as he was surprised it was quite neat minus the spider web in the corner. He was glad his son was becoming more mature and tidy.

Miles soon came home as he was stretching, and was holding a few bags. “I got stuff in for tacos. Want to help me make them tonight?” Miles asked, holding his bag up and a light in his eyes. Jefferson just chuckled and nodded. “Of course, I’ll help you champ. Also, I noticed you dropped your notebook. I put it back on your desk,” his dad nodded. He noticed how Miles paled but he didn’t blame him if he was drawing his crush as Spider-Woman (well, assuming that it was someone he was crushing on in school). “I didn’t look, don’t worry,” he added and Miles nodded, believing his dad. He wasn’t as pale. “Thanks, Dad,” he spoke with a soft smile. “I love you,” he spoke gently and Miles lit up with happiness.

It was just another night and Miles was at the school. It was Wednesday so he would be coming back soon. That was when a text came through. ‘Dad! It’s too late to leave. I left a book in my room. Is it ok if you grab it for me? Sorry for the hassle, I just need it for the next lesson. I admitted fault to the teacher already as I had her today!’ he texted his dad. Jefferson sighed, tempted to text Miles back to scold him but he had taken accountability so he couldn’t be too bad.

‘Good job for admitting it to your teacher. Since I have the morning shift tomorrow, I will give it over. This won’t happen much though, got it?’ he texted Miles before having to add on. ‘What is the book and where? Is there anywhere I should avoid?’. He understood that his son’s room was his son’s domain and didn’t want to see something that was too personal after all.

‘It’s on my shelf! It’s for English Literature! Thank you, Dad!’ he saw Miles had texted back. He could tell how happy his son was even through the message. He just chuckled with a smile before he got up and went to the bedroom, flicking the lights on. He saw boxes behind the shelf but didn’t say anything as he grabbed the book until he saw what the boxes said. ‘Webber’s Baby Powder’ it read. He was confused as to why he saw it there. That’s when he thought.

He put the book in his bag before he texted back. ‘Did you get someone pregnant?’ he texted.

‘???’ was the response he got and he sighed.

‘The baby powder. Why is there so much?’ he texted back again.

‘Oh! It’s good for dry shampoo and also for skin irritation. It also makes my shoes smell better. Thought I would stock up so I wouldn’t have to go back soon for it’ Miles texted back. Jefferson sighed in relief then nodded.

‘Ok! I was just worried you got someone pregnant was all’ he responded.

‘Nah. Still single. Anyway! Meet you outside at 7 am?’ Miles texted, switching the conversation.

‘See you there’ his dad finished the conversation.

As he put his phone away he couldn’t help but sigh in relief. He was just thankful he wasn’t going to be a granddad early.

It was Saturday evening and Miles had been in his room all evening doing homework. As usual, with the homework he finished, he webbed up to his ceiling. There was no real reason why, he just did it out of habit at this point. “Miles?” he heard his dad call out and knock on the door. He quickly took off his headphones and looked at the door. “You may come in,” he spoke with a smile. Jefferson walked in. “So how is the homework going?” he asked. “Good. Why?” Miles responded suspiciously.

“I just want to take you out for some coffee is all, have a chat,” Jefferson spoke. He had been doing this to his whole family due to his brother dying and he didn’t want to ruin any relationship of his.

“Yeah, we can do that!” Miles spoke happily and stood up as he was grabbing his jacket and coat as well as his bag before he was ready. Jefferson did notice the books and the homework on the ceiling however but he decided not to say anything yet, not wanting to ruin their vibe as Miles would say…

It was soon close to dinner time and Miles was at the table. He was curious why his dad and mom were staring at him and then at each other (since they just asked him to sit down) before they finally decided to speak up. “So… we noticed something different about you. Would you like to say what it is before we say?” Rio spoke, looking at him.

“Shoot. You guys know I’m bi? I… didn’t think you would find out. I’m sorry. I didn’t know how you would react. I’m sorry,” he spoke, thinking that was what it was. “I didn’t mean to stare at that guy Dad, I’m sorry,” he added, thinking it would be an issue. “Wait, you’re bi? That’s no problem hijo,” Rio spoke, her tone being gentle.

“Of course it’s alright champ. Nosotros te amamos como eres,” Jefferson spoke.

“Oh… then what is this about?” Miles asked, looking at both of them, relief in his eyes.

“You being Spider-Man,” his dad spoke and Rio nodded.

“We just don’t want you seriously injured is all,” Rio added, not wanting to make Miles more scared.

“I’m sorry. I just… it is needed as you know,” he admitted.

“Yes but we don’t want the normal criminals to hurt you hijo,” Rio spoke.

“With the villains the cops can’t handle then that is ok,” Jefferson spoke. Miles looked at him and nodded, looking down ashamed. “We love you, you know that. But that also means we worry about you,” Rio stated.

“Also with the drawing of that Spider-Woman… is that who you want to be?” Jefferson asked. “Dad! You said you didn’t look. But no… long story short she is someone I knew and worked with but… she doesn’t live in New York,” he spoke. “I know, I know. I apologise for looking. And that’s alright. We just… want you to be safe,” his dad spoke.“And if you get injured, I want you here so I can help you, whether it is serious or not. Got it?” Rio asked sternly. Miles just smiled and nodded before he saw his parents nod and get up. He was confused why before he was hugged by both of them.

“We love you,” both spoke. Miles was happy. He felt accepted. He couldn’t ask for anything more… except for Gwen but he would be happy to know that she was happy.

#spiderman: into the spiderverse #into the spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #across the spiderverse #miles morales #jefferson morales #rio morales #ratboy writing #ratboy writes

23 notes · View notes

dark-elf-writes · 6 months

Note

Oooh yes! I imagine Reborn threatens any spies he can before ripping that seal off as soon as possible so Tsuna can grow. He grins when a Cloud stalks his grandson only for the Cloud to bond. When a Sun hovers and Rain draws near. When a Misty girl who needs a family comes close.

Just yeeeees.

Reborn would go to his grave denying that he is soft for anyone. That being said you don’t make it as far as he has in the mafia without placing an incredibly amount of importance on family.

It is child’s play to silence the spies watching over Tsuna’s progress. To twist them until they were singing inly what Reborn wanted them to say. To break the ones who would not give in. To take out Nono’s eyes and ears one by one until any information that made it out of Japan was exactly how he wanted it.

Unsealing Tsuna is harder. His grandson’s flames are angry at being sealed for so long. Wanting to lash out at the perceived threat that bound them, but…

(Reborn pushed the barest hint of his flames into Tsuna’s knees, soothing away the hurt and redness from where he had fallen.

Nana laughed as she watched Tsuna reaching for the twinkling stars she had conjured on his ceiling, her flames twisting and dancing like a mist’s should.)

The sky flames do not burn him. Do not burn Nana. They do however do a number on the room leaving Tsuna’s bedroom a mess of ash and embers before the child finally burns through the initial shock and crumbles against him.

Tsuna clings to him and cries — in relief, in horror, in fury — until he finally falls into easy slumber for the first time since he was five years old.

Comparatively finding his little Sky guardians to protect him is a simple matter. Tsuna seems to pull them in unknowingly. Collecting shattered children like he himself had been shattered and offering them the only thing that could soothe the odd collection he had found.

A home.

Nana never looked happier than she did cooking for a full house of kids (he remembered a little girl leaning against his side, a legion of baby dolls in front of them “I want to be a mama when I grow up. One with a hundred babies.” She never made it to a hundred, but he was sure their rag tag collection of mafiosi, middle schoolers, and criminals had to count for at least that amount). Tsuna was closer to the happy child Reborn remembered before his flames had been snuffed out, bright and laughing and loving everyone he met.

Now if only half of those brats would stop making moon eyes at his grandson whenever they thought no one’s as looking and he finally received permission to assassinate his daughter’s useless husband and life would be perfect.

#the elf talks #reborn #katekyo hitman reborn #dino: I’m Tsuna’s big brother #reborn: technically you’re his uncle #dino: yea- IM HIS WHAT #grandpa reborn

29 notes · View notes

derelictheretic · 1 year

Text

Wips be upon ye again

I was tagged by @clicheantagonist @adelaidedrubman @socially-awkward-skeleton @unholymilf @strafethesesinners @aceghosts and @detectivelokis to share a wip!! Thank you beloveds 🥺💕

Tagging @viktor-sinclaire @baldurrs @deputyash @fadedjacket @florbelles @ishwaris @jinfromyarikawa @locustandwildhoney @redreart @shellibisshe @wewillryesagain @bl-beater @jollybone @trashcatsnark @afarcry5fromstraight @bluemojave @shellibisshe

My creative juices have been flowin so I got a whole three things to show off uvu

First Lola wip 👀 (I have half given up on this because I'm not confident in Lola's dialogue/mannerisms yet but it's also cute so who knows)

"I heard we had a newbie!" A boisterous voice sings from the left and the three turn to the doorway of the breakroom, a blonde with pink dyed tips bounds into the room with more energy than anyone else in the whole building had combined. A plastic container in her hands as she shoves past Staci and Joey to stand in front of Dean. Her grey eyes are bright and her pierced smile is breathtaking and infectious. She clutches the container to her chest with one hand and grabs Deans with the other, shaking it enthusiastically as she all but bounces in place.

"Nice to meet'cha rookie, names Lola! You can call me Darling or Your Majesty if you're feeling cute though."

Dean can't help but grin as both Staci and Joey sigh, the high energy from the woman now opening the container a nice change of pace from his slow and dull first week in the county.

"Nice to meet you, my name's–"

"Dean Sinclaire! Australian, twenty five, single, youngest of three kids, no criminal record and owner of a really shitty Jeep wrangler. I'll forgive you for the car because you were playing some bangin' tunes but you're on thin ice—Cupcake?" Lola holds out the container with a cheery smile and Deans tries not to look shaken as he reaches in and takes out a pink frosted cupcake. He knew his file would have some information on him but he had no idea who would have access to it, and he wasn't expecting anyone to list it all off in the middle of the office. Not that any of what she'd said was much of a secret, it was just unexpected.

"Tone it down Darling you're gonna freak him out—she does the background checks on newbies don't overthink it," Joey sighs, shaking her head and offering Dean a reassuring smile. He nods gently and decides to shake it off and take a bite of the cupcake and damn it was a good cupcake. Really good.

"Yeah, yeah i'm the only one tech savvy enough to do 'em, anyway interesting socials you got, don't really scream enforcer of the law if you know what I mean. Why're you here?" Lola takes a bite of a cupcake herself, watching Dean with an intense yet non-judgemental gaze that leaves him feeling unsteady. He swallows the piece of cupcake in his mouth and glances between the three deputies now staring him down, Joey and Staci seeming to want to hear his answer as well.

"Uh… I don't know how to say it without sounding cliché—I just want to help people." He offers sheepishly, suddenly having a hard time keeping eye contact.

"Plenty of other jobs that help people though, why'd you go this route? Is it the gun, it's okay if it's the gun I know you guys don't really get those easy down under." Lola raises the hand holding the cupcake to her mouth, her tone growing hushed in a conspiratorial manner as she offers a squinted, pursed lipped look his way.

"Hah—no, it's not the gun, I'm hoping I don't have to use it if i'm honest but uhm… I don't know it just, ended up this way I guess?" He shrugs gently, not prepared for this line of questioning. Which really he probably should have saw it coming, it's not like it was the one question in every cop movie ever or anything.

Lola nods slowly, humming as if she were dissecting his words in her head, ripping them apart.

"Better reason than Pratt's that's for sure, you'll do fine here. It's slow most days, holidays it tends to get a bit crazy but we'll look out for you." Joey offers another reassuring smile, matched with a welcoming pat to his shoulder. Staci scoffs under his breath, Joey quickly glaring at him to stop any complaints he had from surfacing verbally. Dean can't help but admire the interaction, it seemed like they had a good friendship—maybe in time he'd be sharing similar moments with them as a new guy walked in the door. It was a nice thought.

"You're getting paired up with me so obviously you'll be more than fine," Lola places a hand on Dean's other shoulder and he catches sight of her black acrylic nails, pink hearts dotted along them, "You're like my baby duckling now and if anyone fucks with my baby duckling I'll fuck them up with my car." Her happy tone turns serious in the blink of an eye, sincerity in every syllable and a promise that she meant it in her gaze. Oddly Dean finds the sentiment comforting instead of alarming, it was nice knowing he'd have someone so intent on having his back.

"I'm—Thank you, Lola." He smiles and she shoots a grin back, her vampire smiley piercings gleaming in the office light. She pats his cheek before stepping back and placing an extra cupcake on his desk. 'For later,' she mouths at him, pointing at it as if the other two with them couldn't see exactly what she was doing. As she's closing the plastic container the older deputy Dean had seen sitting at the front desk walks through the doors and Lola lets out an excited squeal, bounding up to the woman with glee.

"Nancy, my baby duckling is here! He doesn't have an accent but he's got the cutest little nose, do we have his uniform yet I wanna show him off—show him the ropes. I'm going to show him the ropes." Lola excitedly buzzes to the older woman, tacking on the last sentence as Sheriff Earl Whitehorse walks in behind her. Dean has to stop himself from laughing as she straightens her poster and blinks owlishly at their sheriff.

Earl shakes his head lightly as she shoots him a less than bashful grin. She tries to offer him a cupcake but he raises a brow at her and she pouts in response, mumbling something about being unappreciated as she walks off with Nancy back to what Dean could only assume was the break room.

And !! More of the jacob/dean fic from the last wip day, I know, me working on the same wip consistently? Shocking

"What did he do to you Rook?"

Staci's voice feels distant, but Dean knows he's standing in front of the cage—clinging to the bars and probably looking down on him with the same dismay in the others' faces. Their resilient resistance leader was quiet, small, tired.

"Fuck, your leg—"

They were all scared, Staci was scared. Dean wanted to reassure him, wipe his eyes and tell him he was still getting them out of here.

"I–I'll get you some bandages, hold on."

But his mind just wanted to rest, shove down every memory of ginger hair and humid nights and stupid towns and stupid dreams and stupid wishes—He wanted to rip it to shreds and destroy every trace that said that motherfucker had ever been something to him. So he laid there on the ground and he stayed quiet. He tried to scrub the images behind his eyelids away, and tried to spit that name out of his mouth. Tried to rip that feeling out of his stupid heart.

Maybe if he was lucky he'd bleed out right now and steal the satisfaction of watching him continue to struggle through Jacob's trials. He could just see the hissy fit he'd throw, tables thrown and paper flying through the air as he cast blame onto whichever chosen shot him. Wouldn't that be funny?

I have a lot of art wips so uhh, peggie!dean and Jacob chillin' while Jo gives a sermon. Giving peggie!dean an alt look entirely based on a cosplay I did and i'm not sorry

#lola is taking up 90% of my brain rn can u tell #rotating her like a rotisserie chicken in my mind #also rotating dean in my mind. honestly rotating them both and vibrating at high velocity #dean just. sOBS. looks so good when he's brainwashed an evil yanno ashsjahahsh #HONESTLY ALL MY OCS LOOK SO GOOD PEGGIE-IFIED. glad everyone appreciated peggie cas and pip I need to being them back #misc: wips #misc: tag game #nadine's wips #Far Cry Tag

34 notes · View notes

mariacallous · 9 months

Text

The day after the plane crash that apparently killed both Yevgeny Prigozhin and his right-hand man Dmitry Utkin (who gave his nom-de-guerre “Wagner” to the entire Wagner Group), local residents and leaderless mercenaries gathered by the former PMC Wagner Center in St. Petersburg. The flowers, candles, and other offerings they brought heaped up into a sprawling memorial to a man who had gained immense notoriety, both in Russia and abroad, for his private military company’s role in Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. Ekaterina Barkalova, a reporter writing for the independent Russian outlet Bumaga, visited the memorial and spoke to the people who came to honor Prigozhin. With the publication’s permission, Meduza is publishing an abridged translation of her reportage on why many Russians admired Prigozhin, despite his criminal biography and Wagner Group’s reputation for grotesque violence and colossal losses of mercenaries’ lives.

A burial mound in the midst of St. Petersburg

At noon, the time when mourners were asked to gather at the former PMC Wagner Center, around 50 people stand in front of the office building. A mound of loose soil left behind by city landscapers must have reminded someone of a burial site: within a short time, it’s covered with red carnations and begins to really look like a fresh grave.

Mothers with children, teens, and men in military uniforms marked with “Z” patches all show up carrying flowers and Wagner banners. Crossing themselves before the memorial, they step away to make room for others. “Teaching the kids respect,” says a woman holding a pair of red-headed twin boys by the hands.

A uniformed man in a balaclava has fallen to his knees before the mound. His whole body shakes as he bursts into tears. He turns out to be a currently enlisted mercenary. Another Wagner fighter says he is going to stay on with the private military company. “We’re a brotherhood,” he says, and “you can’t trade your family for another.” “We’re all of the same blood. We’re bound by the blood we shed in Bakhmut, Slovyansk, and Popasna. Life is hard here,” he says, gesturing at the civilian life around him, “but easy at the front.”

Over there, you know who’s who, both your enemies and your friends. Here, you can’t sort it out. It’s like a disease. People who try to quit manage for a couple of weeks. But there’s that pull to go back.

A police car passes by the memorial a few times. The operatives inside are watching the mourners, but the car doesn’t stop. A group of people, likely associated with Wagner Group, are attending the memorial, keeping order.

In the afternoon, a courier arrives with an enormous wreath. He adds it to the growing mound of offerings without telling anyone who had paid for it. Shortly afterwards, a young man named Dmitry brings a sledgehammer to the memorial site. This reminds the crowd of the brutal executions practiced by Wagner mercenaries.

“Prigozhin liked sledgehammers,” Dmitry says, explaining that he got this particular tool from his friends, some of them former Wagner mercenaries.

“He didn’t like sledgehammers,” objects a woman from the crowd. “It was just a symbol,” she says.

Dmitry bows to the public. A state television crew asks him to lay the sledgehammer again, for a TV segment. He lays it on the flowers again. And again.

A man and his son are arranging votive candles into cross shapes. “When it gets dark, the cross will be visible from up there,” the man says, heaving a sigh as he gestures towards the heavens.

When the memorial is already heaped high with flowers, flags, chevrons, and the sledgehammer, a young woman comes with a drawing and adds it to the mound. It’s a drawing of a cute capybara with Wagner insignia. Next to the capybara, a handwritten message is scrawled: “We’ll always remember you. Should we still believe in a better future, Pops?” The artist dries her eyes with a tissue. One of her friends, she says, also served in Wagner Group.

The former PMC Wagner building’s new occupants are watching the crowd from a distance. They work for Megastroy, a company that moved into the former PMC Wagner Center after Prigozhin’s mutiny fizzled out on June 24. “We’ve read the news,” one of them says. “We think it’s a staged death. Prigozhin must be in Hawaii now, drinking cocktails.”

The night before, the building’s 13th floor was lit, the lights forming the shape of a cross. Employees working in the building now don’t think it was intentional.

Who mourns Prigozhin and why

Many of those who came to say farewell to Prigozhin have a personal connection to Wagner Group. Some writers who worked for his “troll farm” from last November to June joined the crowd briefly but declined to talk to journalists. Some visitors sympathize with the PMC because they know someone who serves there or died as a Wagner mercenary.

At a distance, a group of men in military camouflage look like current Wagner fighters.

A pair of teenage boys

We came to honor the memory of a great Russian man and patriot who fought for our Fatherland. We’d like to join the PMC ourselves, but we’re not 18 yet.

A Wagner fighter

I took the news really hard. The commander’s death — I don’t know if he’s really dead, they haven’t confirmed that yet, have they? We’re waiting to hear this isn’t true. We absolutely don’t want this to be true. It’s a heartache, it’s like your next-of-kin. What are we gonna without him?

The mercenary says he met Prigozhin in person: he used to visit the troops. The speaker joined the PMC long before 2022. He has a hard time believing that Prigozhin and Utkin could be dead. “They always had some moves in reserve,” he says. Besides, the paramilitary group wouldn’t let something like this just slide. Though partly under the Defense Ministry’s control, it’s a force unto itself in Africa, he argues. “Those who did it will be caught and punished very harshly.”

“Do you realize who those pilots were?” he says about the crew of Prigozhin’s executive jet. “They were the best pilots in the world — pilots who could fly without a plane!”

Prigozhin had plenty of enemies, because he always told the truth. He said everything just how it was, without embellishment or hypocrisy. Not how they do it today on TV and everywhere else — it’s all liars the world over. He was our fighting spirit. He had our back.

He doesn’t believe that Ukraine could have been interested in the crash. “There’s plenty of villains here too,” he says about Russia, “people who will do anything for $100 — sell whatever, break whatever, damage the infrastructure.” Wagnerites, on the other hand, “had ironclad discipline” and “never had any problems with civilians,” he is certain.

An entrepreneur who arranged candles into cross shapes

How could you not worship a hero? There are very few of them left in our country. Since the day he founded Wagner Group, he was a man of his word. He said he’d capture Bakhmut no matter the cost, and he did it. God only knows what he had to do when no one gave him [the ammunition] he needed, but he did everything he said he would.

“It’s a pity to lose such a huge presence — and he was a huge presence for about two years,” the speaker goes on. “Time will tell what comes next. Our people act first and think later. I’m more than certain this was no accident,” he says about the crash and those who presumably arranged it. He doesn’t think this is the end of Wagner Group, though. “Our guys went horizontal in droves when [the authorities] needed it. And they will be needed again,” he adds, referring to combat operations. “Africa is nothing,” he shrugs.

A man who says he was connected to Prigozhin ‘by way of the special operation’

These dead are Russia’s most remarkable people who had a vivid, clear position and broadcast it everywhere. This is why there’re people here with flowers, and why they’re crying. They know that the people who were really doing something for our country — who had real victories, and whom everybody loved — they have been taken away. This is why we’re here to show our support for the rest.

“We don’t really care what happens to his assets,” the speaker adds. “Everybody knows what will happen to those assets. But it would be interesting to see what becomes of Wagner Group itself.” He hopes that the PMC won’t fall apart but “keeps serving the country.”

A woman who brought a single flower

“I think of him as a hero,” says a woman with a flower, adding that the mutiny didn’t change her attitude. She thinks that the crash was a “provocation,” and that both Ukraine and the Russian opposition are responsible. The destabilizing “fifth column” is everywhere, she thinks, and trouble in the country is just beginning.

5 notes · View notes

vincess-princess · 2 years

Text

the wild, the wayward and the wicked

Chapter 3

Word count: 2720 Warnings: there is a mention of a potentially triggering subject, but I don't want to reveal it beforehand. i will put the warning in the tags so you can look there if you wish.

“So you want the hunted to become the hunters?” Mick tilted his head. “That’d be one hell of a plot twist.”

“I’ve been saying!” Tommy beamed. “They’d expect a robbery or a theft from us but definitely not this!”

“You ain’t the first to hit upon this idea,” Mick tempered his enthusiasm. “Law-abiding citizens don’t usually possess the experience of hunting down people, y’know. It’s that the price on our heads is much higher than that for this fellow, yet it’s us who intend to bring him to justice. The irony!” he chuckled and took a drag from his cigar. A thin layer of smoke drifted in spirals below the ceiling.

“Are you saying it’s a bad idea?” Tommy’s face fell, to Nikki’s delight. The kid hadn’t yet learned to discern Mick’s attitude from his impenetrable expressions. To be fair, it took Nikki much longer and through a great deal of trial and error, but it didn’t mean he was going to make it any easier for the kid.

Mick gave him a long, tired look.

“I’m saying it’s a horrible idea. Do you understand how much danger we’d put ourselves in? We are practically handing the law a four-in-one package on our own volition. No self-respecting outlaw with a lick of common sense would ever do this.”

Tommy looked like Mick just killed his puppy in front of him. Nikki would even feel sorry for him if he didn’t know Mick well enough.

“You’re right – nobody will believe we’re that crazy,” Mick continued. “Which is why that’s exactly what we are gonna do. Cops will be looking for us among the criminals, not those who turn them in. And the best place to hide is in plain sight.”

Tommy beamed, his eyes lighting up. He sat upright proudly and shot Nikki a triumphant look. Nikki replied with a condescending grin. He knew precisely what Mick would say, but wanted to keep the kid on his toes.

The vodka kicked in and coated everything in gentle haze that diluted the blinding contrasts of life into fluid, smooth color shifts. The sharp edges of his mind that pierced him on the inside softened, and the mood swings evened out. The messy, fragmented thought process was a downside, but not critical.

“They might not look for us on purpose,” Nikki spoke up finally. He knew how Mick would react, but that didn’t mean he agreed with him. “But they ain’t all gonna go blind all of a sudden. Suppose we catch the guy. We bring him to town. And then what – just show up at the sheriff? Our faces are on every town pole – you really think he won’t recognize us?”

“You and Mick – yes. But I’m not yet as famous,” Tommy sighed with feigned envy. “They ain’t got my photographs yet, right? I haven’t been arrested before.”

“They saw you when we were skedaddling from the mayor’s house,” Nikki reminded. “Cops know about you now, and all the police offices probably already have your description.”

“It was two weeks ago,” Tommy jerked his shoulder flippantly. “They’ve already forgot what I look like. But if you are so sca-“ Nikki frowned, “I mean, worried, I can cut my hair. And grow a goatee.”

Nikki ruthlessly dismissed his offer of self-sacrifice. “Still too obvious. They’re gonna take you up just in case, as they often do, and how will we get you out then? Besides,” he taunted, “we’re gonna starve if we’re gonna wait for your goatee to grow out.”

“He’s right,” Mick intervened, effectively stifling Tommy’s attempt to protest. “Not about the goatee, but about everything else. No offence, kid, but do you really think they’ll believe that it was your fifteen-year-old stick-thin self that caught a dangerous criminal all by yourself? They’re bound to get suspicious. And it won’t be hard to dig up stuff on you once they are.”

“I’m eighteen!” Tommy jumped up, bubbling with indignation.

“You look like an adolescent,” Mick shot him down. “And behave like a toddler. No, none of us can show up at the station ourselves. We need outside help, and one that doesn’t know what we dragged ourselves into at that – our old friends won’t help us anymore, not for a price we’re able to offer. Any ideas?”

Gloomy silence hung over the cabin for a couple of minutes. The deeper one gets into the underground, the fewer friends from the world above they have. It’s neither strange nor overly hurtful: most want nothing to do with the dangers such a friendship entails, and one gains new, more useful friends quickly anyway. It’s only in situations like theirs that the downsides of it start manifesting.

Finally, Nikki broke the silence.

“I know a guy,” he said slowly. “We used to do coke together back in the day. He never really got out of it…”

“Neither did you,” Tommy murmured.

“…so he could use some money,” Nikki continued, graciously ignoring him. “He’s a big guy, pretty intimidating, should look convincing enough. Of course, he’s got that cocaine wear and tear, but…”

“How do you know he won’t turn us in?” Mick questioned.

Nikki shrugged. “I don’t. But we used to be pretty good buddies…”

“That’s not a guarantee.”

“…and I’ll just tell him I’ll kill him if he rats us out.”

“And make the psycho face!” Tommy clapped his hands gleefully.

Nikki rolled his eyes, but did stretch his lips into his signature grin, a little bit too toothy and broad for comfort; together with wide, unblinking eyes it gave its witnesses unforgettable memories. As much as Tommy tried to replicate it, he never managed it quite right: his looked more like the face of a village idiot. He didn’t get too upset over it, though; “village idiot” was his brand, and a damn convincing one at that.

“Yes!” Tommy laughed. Mick pressed his lips together tightly and looked away, and the grin on Nikki’s face quickly faded. Mick always told Tommy to “stop encouraging it” when he thought Nikki couldn’t hear, and Tommy always promised and then asked Nikki to pull the face again once the old man was out of sight. He was smarter than the two of them combined, but still just a human that could sometimes get hung up on trifles like this.

“So,” Mick said loudly, clearly trying to steer the conversation away from the shaky ground, “and how much do you think he’ll ask for?”

“Fifty dollars should be enough. It’ll keep him busy for a month at least. And junkies don’t look that much farther into their future.”

“That we can spare,” Mick nodded. “You’re not much of a negotiator – don’t get pissy, that’s true - so I’d make this a starting rate. But don’t offer more than twice of that. You can’t let him know how much money really is in the game – the more money, the higher the stakes, and the higher the stakes, the bolder people get.”

“Do I have to do it?” Nikki winced. “I really doubt I could pull it off better than you.”

“Yeah? How long do you think it’ll take him to figure out that ratting on us will be much more profitable than helping us? Your friendship is a key factor here. He knows you, he’d be much more inclined to help you than some random man.”

“That makes sense,” Nikki sighed. “But if I fuck it up, don’t blame me. I warned you.”

“Don’t fuck it up then,” Mick cut him off harshly. “We don’t get this guy to do it, we’ll have to shell out considerably, and we can’t afford that. You think five grand are a fortune? Well, just you see how quick they run out just on food and lodging in Nevada. And it ain’t gonna be a luxurious vacation either, mind you. It will be enough to get us back on our feet only if we spend it wisely.”

“We going to Nevada? It’s a shithole,” Tommy pursed his lips. A very dumb move, as far as Nikki was concerned, but his opinion was firmly on the last line of a long list of fucks that Tommy didn’t give. “There ain’t a single big city there where we could practice our business. It’s a fucking desert! What are we gonna do there? Mine silver?”

“Where there’s silver, there’s always money,” Nikki said hastily to let Mick, who looked outright murderous, collect himself and reconsider strangling Tommy right there and then, however appealing it seemed to both. “Nobody’s gonna force you into the mines, T-bone… although that might do you good. That silver ain’t sitting there on one spot, y’know. It’s gotta move in some way, and Nevada doesn’t have a railroad. All the money goes in stages and freights. You see where I’m going?”

Tommy didn’t look particularly overjoyed, unknowingly yet successfully sabotaging Nikki’s efforts to keep him alive till the end of the conversation. “Yeah, I see that we’re gonna become simple highwaymen,”

“It’s either that or the gallows,” Mick reminded him, his voice on the verge of a yell. “Chain gang, in your case. Big cities are a no-go for us now, at least for a few months.”

“He just doesn’t wanna learn to shoot properly,” Nikki scoffed. The best way to distract Tommy from complaining about something was to make him sore about something else. “Scared of getting his hands dirty. Lifting is child’s play, of course he wants to stick to it.”

“Hey, that’s bullshit!” Even in the dim light of two candles and Mick’s cigar butt Nikki could see Tommy’s ears redden. “I can shoot just fine! I just let you do it because you clearly get the kick out of it.”

“Oh yes, you’re always hiding behind my back solely for my sake!”

“At least that way you can’t shoot me with your withdrawal-shaking hands!”

“That’s enough.”

Mick never raised his voice, but it always cut through Tommy’s and Nikki’s arguments like a knife through butter, no matter how heated they were. For a while they wallowed in silence so thick it clogged every orifice on Nikki’s body, suffocating him.

Finally Mick spoke, and the acridity of his voice made the silence seem sweet as a chocolate pudding.

“We’re smack in the middle of a city teeming with cops on our tails, trying to figure how to play out our only opportunity to save our asses,” he began, every word a spear, “and you decide it’s the ideal time to drag out each other’s dirty linen and wave it before my eyes. You two seem to not understand what dire straits we got ourselves into, and that’s outright dangerous. If you behave like this now, how can I be sure you won’t start a petty fight at a critical moment?”

“How can you be sure he won’t pee his pants and bolt at the sight of a gun?” Nikki demanded, still riding the high of his rage.

“How can you be sure he won’t wander off spaced out on coke?” Tommy followed, his ears somehow even redder than before.

Under Mick’s heavy gaze both felt their determination cave in, but then came a sudden and much more unnerving change of tune: he chuckled, leaned back onto his chair and put his feet up onto the coffee table. “Well,” he said almost merrily, “you said it, not me. Looks like I have to look for more reliable mates.”

Nikki’s rage that seemed so sturdy underneath him shattered like fine china, hurling him downwards towards the ground.

“What?!” he and Tommy exhaled in unison.

“You’re no good to me if you only see each other’s weaknesses,” Mick readily explained. “You won’t trust someone without any redeemable qualities with your life, will you?”

“But we’d never-” Tommy began, but Mick callously brushed him off.

“How can I know that you’re not saying stuff like this about me behind my back?” He took a slow drag from his cigar, as if purposefully stretching the dispirited silence. “You’re already shitting all over each other in my presence. My turn might come quicker than we all expect.”

This was when Nikki finally crashed into the ground, leaving him aghast and breathless. Tommy also didn’t fare all too well, all color gone from his face and at a loss for words, which was never the case with him. The cigar tip once again looked tempting.

Mick was waiting for an answer rather patiently, but Nikki couldn’t suppress a feeling that he would get up and walk out the door at any second. He hurried to herd his jumbled emotions together so he could formulate a coherent answer.

“Sorry,” he finally said, pushing words out with effort. “I never thought of it this way. We always bicker like that, you know.”

“And it has always been unnecessary,” Mick said sharply, “but now it may be outright deadly. We’re facing a very rough patch, Nikki. If we want to make it out in one piece, we have to change our ways.”

“I understand. Sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” Tommy, who up until now was engrossed in studying a cobweb in the corner of the ceiling, also chimed in.

“I hope so,” Mick finished the cigar with one drawn-out drag and dropped the butt into the ashtray. “Think it over very thoroughly tonight, both of you. You won’t have time for that anymore starting tomorrow – it’s gonna be busy if we want to get going the next night. With that bounty, there’ll be lots of aspirants for this guy’s head, so we’ve got to hurry.”

“Got it, boss.” Nikki rose from his chair on unsteady legs and headed to another room, dragging Tommy with him. “We’re gonna hit the hay then. You be staying up much longer?”

“Need to think some more.”

“Alright. Night, then.”

“Sleep well. We might not get another chance in the nearest future.”

Nikki and Tommy quietly closed the door behind them and curled up on their sleeping mats. For a while the only sound in the room was their breathing.

“Hey, bitch.” Nikki finally said. “Shooting ain’t that scary once you get the gist of it. We could practice a bit once this is over.”

“I’m not scared of it!” Tommy protested in a fierce whisper. “I just don’t want to do it when it’s not needed.”

“Then you gotta pick a different walk of life. You can’t do without a gun here.”

“I know, I know…” Tommy heaved a sigh, turned over on his mat and fell silent. But soon a suspicious rustle came from his direction, and Nikki opened his eyes just in time to see the little bastard shove his hand under his blanket, and then – the sound of skin rubbing against the fabric. Now? Seriously?!

“Don’t you fucking dare-“

“Oh god, relax! I’m just scratching an itch!” Tommy groaned. “I could be doing anything, why’s that the first thing that comes to your mind? That raises some questions about you, you know?”

“What questions?” Nikki pulled up the edge of his blanket defensively.

“For starters, is that really ladies you’re lacking?”

If Nikki’s freedom of movement hadn’t been limited by a blanket, Tommy would have gotten the shit kicked out of him there and then. Fortunately for the kid, it took Nikki long enough to throw the blanket away and roll over towards Tommy for him to free his arms as well. They struggled for a while, but it turned out swinging punches and pulling at each other’s hair while trying to stay quiet was no more productive than a catfight. Nikki and Tommy got so carried away that they barely managed to spot Mick’s shadow looming in the gap under the door, and only had a couple seconds to restore status quo. But it was far from their first time fighting behind his back, so when the door opened, letting in dim light and even thicker cigar smoke, they were already in the opposite corners of the pantry making not very convincing sleeping noises. Tommy was facing the wall to hide his split lip and Nikki wrapped himself in a blanket from head to toe to conceal a few missing strands of hair.

“Bastards,” Mick murmured. He got no reply, but they all knew the warning reached its destinations.

#motley crue #motley crue fanfiction #nikki sixx #tommy lee #mick mars #outlaw au #the wild the wayward and the wicked #tw: drug use mention #tw: addiction mention #you thought nikki is just suicidal? ha! he's also a fucking junkie #currently sober tho #this is really just a fleeting mention not a spoiler nothing game-changing. idk why i dont want to reveal it in the warnings but i dont #this is longer than usual for this fic but much shorter than is typical for me. it took me like a week to edit tho jeez.#have this already i can't look at this chapter anymore #my writing

7 notes · View notes

demonprincezeldris · 1 year

Note

Little backround on Link. Sense it will include Daddy Arthur!

Catherine was the one to find and adopt Link. And when she introduced him to her Mates Arthur was the one to take up being the boys Father. Taking him in and loving the young boy as his own. And boy is Arthur protective of his Son. Arthur helps to teach other boy how to fight and even grew an interest and supported his Sons little hobby.

Link while not being vary Magical like his siblings, he makes up for it with something he picked up from his mother. Cat shared with Link that humans from her world would use their inventions to 'Fill a need' or 'bridge a gap' that normally wouldn't be possible. So Link became a sort of Tinker. He builds and makes things that would help the kingdom or his family. Seeing a need and making something to fill that need. Closing a gap that would be impossible other wise. Link even has some Goggles that his mother gifted him. As Goggles are a leader look AND protect ones eyes. (Cat watched alot of Digimon and Gurren Lagann)

Catherine also gift Link his own Steed. A black unicorn she used to us alot named 'Susie'. A rather Big Unicorn (Think the Giant Horse from breath of the Wild) that has infact 'KILLED' and 'Eaten' people...It took a liking to Link rather quickly and has been Links loyal companion ever sense. There's a Warning sign for the Stable hands to be careful with Susie as she COULD kill them. Many attempted Criminals acts have been stopped cause they keep trying to get away on the 'Wrong horse'.

Arthur is guilty of spoiling his son. HOWEVER he does put his foot down when he needs to. Although would need some help sometimes from Gelda and Elizabeth. Meliodas and Zeldris telling him to 'Just do as the queens says!'. Catherine puts her foot down aswell if it needs to happens. But its mostly Gelda and Elizabeth that help with the more serious side of things. Keeping the other partners and kids in line and stops them from acting out. So the Kingdoms are rather close cause the other rulers pretty much make sure they don't step out of bounds.

Tristan and Link love each other and enjoy seeing each other when visits happen. As they are considered Brothers and they go right away to hanging out together. Link following Tristan around like a duckling. Link does grow and gets slightly annoyed with Tristan calling him his baby brother. But the two care about each other regardless.

I like the fact that Link is more adept in other areas rather than fighting. I'm sure he can fight, but maybe he's more well known to be a tinkerer. And I bet Arthur is proud of him regardless of what path he chose to go down.

#pack mentality

2 notes · View notes

dangerous-realms · 1 year

Note

🚸- They see their children //Ragnar

For this

Now Rhaghver may not be the father of the year for many reasons. But their still his hatchlings and he loves em, even if their criminals or dead he loves em.

So there are many reactions to seeing them in various stages. Including his dead ones.

Egg-

"Who's a cute egg? You're a cute egg!"

Man baby talks his not yet hatched children. He knows they can hear their papa's voice as the eggs wiggle in response to him talking to them. He loves to visit his egg bound children, fascinated by the little heart beats he hears within the confines of the hard shell that protects the life inside it.

Hatchlings-

"Heh, you're such a cute little thing."

The man loves seeing his children hatch, proud of the strength their little bodys have as they break out of their egg. Hearing their little crys as they awaken in a new world. Holding their small bodys as they grip one of his fingers and bring it to their mouth because their hungry and cold.

Crawlers and toddlers-

"Quit touching that. Put that down. No, you can't eat that. Get that out of your mouth."

His children are menaces at these ages, their curiosity of the world is boundless. Hence why he keeps an eye on them by bringing them into his office and using a capture spell to create a circular playpen to put them in. Though this is when their mother's aren't around, be it because they left him after laying the egg or just abandoned him to rear the kids on his own. But sometimes when they free roam under his watchful eye he has to step to make sure they don't eat stuff their not supposed to.

School age-

Oh thank the gods they can go to school now

The tired papa of many many children loves it when he can just send them off to school to learn, because at some point it becomes difficult to keep an eye on them and their younger siblings. He's proud when they say they make friends and get good grades. It also gives him time to himself and possibly a women if he doesn't have a partner at the time.

Preteens to fifteen year olds-

"Okay, what did you do now that I need to remedy somehow?"

His preteen and mid teen children tend to be very troublesome, often getting into shit and getting into fights with other kids as hormones run high. Probably because they think he has some high expectations of them since he's the emperor of the Daevelum Empire. And while he does have expectations for his children he doesn't make them so high that their impossible to reach. Just that they get good grades and don't die doing something stupid.

Eighteen and up-

They grow up to fast...

At the age of eighteen is when Rhaghver give his children money and a place to live so they can start their own journey of life. He'll miss them like all hell he knows it's important for then to spread their wings and leave the nest to start their own lives. Making names for themselves and starting their own family's.

Dead-

Ragnar does have dead children. Those children are ones who either died during battle or of natural causes as they don't have the longevity of an Evoline. He becomes really somber on the week he takes off to go and visit all their graves. He hates that he wasn't able to do anything to prevent it, it's not like he can extend their lifespan. He can't bring them back from the dead no matter how powerful his magic is. Though while he has accepted this fact, it does hurt to know the the children he watched grow up are now on the other side where he can't see them.

#☐ answered ask ☑#◇ask game◆#muse: ragnar/rhaghver #☆the birth of a new star – headcanons★

2 notes · View notes

paladinsandruffians · 2 years

Text

Good Girl?

Villain leaned on a support beam as she watched her henchmen scamper about. She takes a bite of her banana. Business as normal, or so they would have her think. She knew better.

She expected it, really. What group of grown men and women wouldn't revolt upon discovering their leader was a twelve-year-old brat? Albeit, a maniacal, strategic genius of a brat but still. They wouldn't be taking orders from a child.

She sighs, flicking the peel under a henchman's feet. He gasps as his feet slip out from under him. The box of parts he was carrying skids across the floor, partially spilling its contents.

The neighboring henchmen freeze, eyes darting down towards their fallen comrade then rise towards their juvenile leader. Former leader, she knows most think of her as such.

The downed henchman, still sitting on the floor, bends his knee to look at the tripping hazard clinging to the sole of his boot.

His face twists with disgust as he peels the discarded peel from the bottom of his foot.

He holds it up at arm’s length as he pulls himself up while glancing at the surrounding henchmen, as if to say, “Look what she did this time.”

Another henchman, this one a young woman, quickly takes the peel, slipping off into the crowd to dispose of it.

“Well,” The assaulted henchman says, voice dripping with condescension. “Anything to say.”

Villain grits her teeth but forces a smile.

He dared speak to her in such a manner. He never would have before.

This spineless, little man, so cowardly and meek in her presence, now felt himself superior on the basis of age and, perhaps even, gender.

She curls her fists.

“Hmm,” She says, cocking an eyebrow. “About what, Henchman?”

He glares at her.

“Are you really that immature?”

“Pardon?”

“Don’t pardon me, kid. You know exactly what you did. You do this every time. Childish stunts. A banana peel for Christ’s sake? You belong in school, not in charge of a criminal empire.”

She straightens herself, her glare drifting across the faces of her ‘followers’. Some of them agree, their heads bobbing up and down as he speaks. It was bound to happen. She knew it would. Even then, she couldn't quite shake the sinking feeling in her stomach. She clears her throat, covering a swallow.

“So you plan to overthrow me.”

The henchmen freeze.

“You do. You think you can just toss me out? Take all that I’ve worked to build?”

Several of the henchmen shift, feet shuffling, uncomfortable with how bluntly she broached the subject.

Henchman only smirks, standing taller.

“No.”

“No?”

His smirk grows into a grin as snake-like as he is.

“I don't think. I know .”

Something pricks the back of her neck. Villain whips around, knocking a syringe from another of her henchman's hands, the glass tube clattering on the ground. She sways on her feet, the world beginning to blur and her eyelids drooping.

A pair of hands grab her under the arms and another grabs her legs.

Villain kicks and claws at the hands, more of them grabbing her, easing her to the floor, and pinning her limbs beneath them.

Traitors.

Each attempt at shaking them off becomes more feeble.

Villain lies, back pressed against the cold concrete floor, slowly drifting off. Above her, Henchman stands smug, a tight grin on his face.

"Be a good girl and leave the villainy to the adults, kid."

#villain #snippit #writing snippet #henchmen #betrayal #villains and heroes #heroes and villains #paladinsandruffians

11 notes · View notes

skiller0dani · 3 years

Text

Old Prison Blues | Spencer Reid

M A S T E R L I S T Criminal Minds Masterlist

smut | dom!spencer x bau!reader requests info w.c | 7.2k summary | when your husband Spencer gets released from Prison, he's much different then you remember.

I have it so bad for this man, enjoy! Also guys this piece made butterflies squirm in my belly lmao this one is so HOT it made me blush. Guys, it made me B L U S H. I need to go dunk myself in holy water to atone for this SIN. (just kidding lmao I'm agnostic).

you can see his bulge in this gif and I can't stop admiring looking at it.

When you were in college you'd been an undergraduate in Criminal Justice, so you were familiar with the effects Prison has on the psyche. In other words, you knew Spencer would come back different. No person could pass through Prison unscathed and frankly you'd be more concerned if he came back and nothing had changed at all. At home, he seemed to be relatively okay, and those 6 mandatory weeks of break had allowed him the rest he deserved. Nothing exciting had happened during those weeks, the only thing you did was curl up on the couch next to him and watch movies. You'd made up for all those weeks in Prison during the evenings when you would cling to him and cry out his name in ecstasy.

Spencer really did seem to be fine, until you returned to work. That's when you started to see all the ways Prison had hardened him.

At first, it wasn't anything out of the ordinary. If you were someone who knew Spencer well then you knew that he wasn't a man who was confident in his looks. When you and Spencer first got married he was insecure, and would be discouraged when you hung out with other guys. You wouldn't say he was jealous because jealously in itself requires a certain amount of anger. But when Spencer saw you around other men he wasn't angry, he was sad. Absolutely convinced you were going to leave him any second, despite you telling him you married him because you love him. Deep down, he always thought somebody would steal you from him even though you consistently reminded him how much you love him. That's just the kind of guy Spencer is.

Or, was.

The darkness that brews in Prison, the violent hatred, the anger seems to have followed Spencer to freedom. It has made a home in his chest, and while you're not worried about Spencer flying off the deep end and shooting an innocent, the anger reveals itself in much more subtle ways. It's in the way he clenches his jaw when he can't figure something out, or the blanching of his knuckles as he grips the steering wheel with a crushing force, it's the agitation in his eyes when he watches Alvez's knuckles brush against your lower back for the 3rd time since you two had arrived at the office this morning. The anger has adapted to civilian life like Spencer has, it's learned. It's subtle. Unfortunately you know Spencer almost better then he knows himself, you can tell when something is bothering him.

You slide your hands over his shoulders, and much to your surprise you feel him tense.

"You okay?" You know it's a stupid question, but you have to ask.

"Yeah, fine." Spencer's tone is clipped, shoulders rigid, back straight. Something is definitely bothering him. You squeeze his shoulders and begin to work at the tightened muscles, slowly easing them to relax. The tension flows out of him as he relaxes back in his desk chair, the frustration ebbing away slightly when his eyes catch your wedding ring. The object that binds you to him.

"Don't shut me out." You whisper, a soft plea in your voice. Spencer's heart wretches when he hears the fear in your tone, and one of his hands comes up to catch yours. He presses a chaste kiss to one of your knuckles before swiveling around to face you. You always find a way to soothe the violent, raging beast inside of him. Spencer's hands find your hips as he turns his gaze up to look at you.

"You're right I'm sorry. Just tense today." He says softly, and while there is a little lie to his words, his statement remains mostly the truth. He just leaves out the part where he pictures enacting varying forms of violence on Luke Alvez. The man who keeps unnecessarily touching his wife. You lean down to press a kiss to his forehead, your head snapping up when Garcia calls from the conference room.

"Got a case folks, and it's an ugly one." Her nose scrunches up into a frown before she turns into the room. You pull away from Spencer, yanking him to his feet by his hand. Luke sends you a playful wink as he trots up the stairs, and while you don't necessarily react to it, it still puts Spencer on edge. Deep down Spencer always knew you were way out of his league, but that never became clearer then when you came to visit him in Prison.

┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

You were trembling as you lowered yourself into the chair. Dried tears were on your cheeks, and you haven't even seen Spencer yet. The last time you saw him was a few weeks prior after he first got back from Mexico. Seeing his wrists bound in those metal handcuffs had broken your heart in a way you never anticipated. You wrung your hands together, luckily when Penelope had made the visitation Chart she scheduled you as the first person to come see him. The plastic chair was uncomfortable, but what was worse was the plastic guard separating you from Spencer. The clock ticked loudly, it was clearly mocking you. Reminding you of the seconds you were losing with Spencer, reminding you of all the seconds he was spending in Prison.

When you hear the buzzer scream loudly, you nearly come out of your seat you're so excited to see him. You and Spencer got married back in 2005, and you've never been separated from him for longer then a week. It's been over a month now, and each day he's not with you leaves a bigger hole in your chest. You watch him follow the other prisoners out, and the handcuffs around his wrists breaks your heart. His eyes light up the second he sees you, he nearly shoves the other guy over to get to you faster. There are tears in your eyes as Spencer's wrists are released from the cuffs from the guard standing nearby.

"Hey baby." Spencer says softly as he takes his seat across from you. All you want is to reach across the stupid barrier and touch him, hold his hand, anything. But you know the guards will punish him if he does, but being this close to him without being able to hold him is absolutely killing you. You try to blink the tears out of your eyes so that Spencer won't see, but it's all too much. Seeing him in a jumpsuit, with cuff bruises around his wrists, having to sleep in the same building as murderers. The first tear falls and you immediately look away from him.

"Please don't cry." Spencer begs softly. "I'm okay, really."

You wipe your tears before you look back up at him, digging around in your bag for a gift from Henry. You smile when you see the happiness cross onto his face as you pull the piece of paper out.

"Henry drew this for you, it's from when you guys went to the park." You hold it up for him to see and you try to fight another onslaught of tears when you see his eyes misting.

"You know, when I get out of here we should have one." Spencer says it so casually, you almost miss it. Your eyes nearly pop out of your head as you carefully lower the drawing.

"You want to try for a baby?" You can't hide the smile, and you see Spencer's eyes shine for the first time since he's been in here.

"Yeah, I want to have a baby with you." You and Spencer had a brief conversation about kids a few years ago, and you knew Spencer wasn't ready for it back then. His Father ran out on him and Diana when Spencer was just a kid, it made Spencer insecure about the type of Father he would end up being. In Spencer's mind, a fatherless man would never make a good Father. But it seems he's changed his mind. You had no issues agreeing to wait before you had kids until he was ready, you always knew Spencer would be a fantastic Father.

Suddenly from Spencer's right you hear a low wolf whistle. The tenderness that was on Spencer's face is instantly wiped away. His expression tenses, his jaw clenching as he turns his gaze to a large burly looking man covered in tattoos. The man sitting across from him, the one who was visiting, looked similar. Both of the biker looking men were eyeing me hungrily, it made my skin crawl.

"Something I can help you with?" Spencer asks, his voice tense. The tension in the room grows tenfold, and you fight the instinct to try and scoot closer to Spencer. The Biker looks Spencer in the eyes, a taunting smile on his face.

"That your sister?"

"Wife." Spencer snaps instantly.

"Your wife?" The Biker says incrediously, Spencer raises a brow, daring him to continue. "There's no way a woman with an ass that tight would marry a man as scrawny as you."

You expected to see insecurity flash in Spencer's eyes, instead all you saw was rage. Unbridled, violent rage.

"Choose your next words carefully." Spencer's voice was low, and as sharp as the edge of a blade. You almost didn't recognize him. The Biker leaned forward, fueled only by the knowledge that he was getting under Spencer's skin.

"She as tight as she looks? If I wasn't locked up, I'd fuck her so good she wouldn't even remember what your little pecker feels like."

Spencer's jaw clenches, and his fists curl tightly. The Biker is about 2 words away from a broken nose.

"Baby just let it go." You plead, and normally you don't really use pet names in public but right now you needed to show him that you're his.

"I'll tell you what Klein, I'll fuck her for you and tell you how it felt." The other man says, the man visiting. Upon hearing the words come out of his mouth, Spencer is shoving up from the chair but almost instantly a guard is tightly gripping Spencer's shirt and shoving him back into the chair. Spencer is fuming, and there's nothing you can do to calm him down.

"If you so much as lay a finger on her, your friend here will be dead before you can have another visit." Spencer hisses, and the two large men chuckle.

Spencer instantly took you off the visitors list, and while that felt like a blow to your heart you understood why. You didn't want to stress him out by visiting him.

┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

So, yeah, Spencer knew you were out of his league and when Luke pulled your chair out for you at the table before he had the chance to, it made his blood boil. Why is Luke trying to take care of you? Doesn't he know that Spencer has been released from Prison? You don't need anybody else to take care of you, your husband is more than capable of doing it himself. When Spencer sat down in the chair next to you, he rested one hand on your thigh. You're only slightly surprised, normally Spencer isn't this 'handsy' in public, but in recent weeks he's been more assertive around other men.

"The body of 23 year old Cassandra Richardson was found 2 weeks ago in Lincoln, Nebraska. Her body was mutilated and showed signs of sexual assault. Yesterday another body, 20 year old Francesca Williams was found around the same warehouse district with similar wounds to the first victim." Penelope rushes the words out, almost as though saying them pains her. Various images show on the screen of the two victims, both bloodied and battered.

"Other than similar injuries, what makes the local police think it's the same unsub?" Luke asks, his eyes flickering towards you for the briefest second. While Spencer was locked away, Luke became a shoulder to cry on. Normally when you were upset and Spencer wasn't around, you'd talk to Derek. But since he's been gone you've felt more isolated then you normally do. Luke had found you crying one morning before you had taken off, and ever since he's had an "older brother" protection over you.

"A tattoo on both of the victims thighs, the words 'temerata virginem' which is Latin for 'desecrated virgin'." With the click of a button on her remote, Penelope pulls up a photo of the tattoos. The lines are shaky, although they stay mostly straight.

"It almost looks professional, except the lines aren't perfectly straight. A professional would make the line work perfect." JJ says, examining the photo closer in the folder each of you received. You turn your gaze to Spencer when you feel his hand leave your thigh to examine the photo closer. You could practically see the gears turning in that beautiful mind of his.

"It's possible an outside source is causing a tremble in the unsubs hands, if he is a professional tattoo artist." Spencer mumbles, almost to himself. Sometimes when he's in deep concentration, he nearly forgets other people are in the room with him.

"Could be drugs-" Luke starts but is sharply cut off.

"Actually it's more likely to be alcohol, withdraw from other drugs would be too severe to operate the tattoo machine." Spencer snaps, causing a few heads to turn and look at him. Maybe under other circumstances someone would say something to him, but since Spencer got released from Prison only a few weeks ago, nobody says anything. Luke's eyebrows furrow together as he shoots Spencer a confused look, one Spencer chooses to ignore as his hand returns to your thigh. Spencer knows he's acting like a jerk but he can't help it, Luke needs to know who you belong to. Spencer had everything taken from him in Prison, he won't let anyone take you from him too.

"We've been personally asked by the local police to assist, so wheels up in 30." Emily concludes, shooting one more look at Spencer before everybody rises.

┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

The tension on the jet is thick, you're absolutely sure everybody can feel it. Hardly anyone has interacted with Spencer, except to ask him a question about the case. You sit back against the couch, Luke sitting in one of the chairs at the table, and Spencer sitting on the arm of the chair next to you. In your hand was a nearly empty cup of coffee, and just as you move to refill, Luke rises with his own empty cup.

"Need a refill?" He asks, offering you a friendly smile.

"Yeah actually-"

"I got it." Spencer says abruptly, standing from where he was sitting. His eyes meet Luke's, silently challenging him. You try to be understanding, but you can't help but feel annoyed at Spencer. If he was acting like this to some random guy then that's one thing, but this is Luke. He's your friend, he's Spencer's friend. Luke, and the rest of the team, put everything on the line to free Spencer from Prison.

"It's cool man, I can do it-" Luke offers again, but Spencer isn't having it.

"I said I got it." Spencer reaches his hand out for your mug, which you instantly give to him. His eyes don't leave Luke's until he turns around and heads to the back of the jet to refill your coffee. Luke pauses for a few seconds, his eyes meeting yours and mirroring the same look of concern before he heads for the coffee pot as well. Luke isn't even upset by how Spencer is treating him, he- like everyone else, is worried about Spencer's psyche.

"What is going on with Spencer?" JJ whispers once she's sure Spencer is out of earshot. You shrug, your worried eyes landing on your husband. His posture is tense, almost defensive.

"Well can you blame him? In Prison, everything that's yours can and will be stolen by the other male inmates. Now that he's free, Spencer is being protective of his wife, someone that is his and can be taken by other men." Rossi says, always naturally a tad protective of Spencer.

"There isn't a man on this planet that would make me leave Spencer." You say defensively, although you know Rossi didn't mean anything by what he said.

"That might be obvious to you, but not to Spencer." JJ says, eyeing Spencer standing back near the coffee machine.

"Doing okay man?" Luke asks hesitantly as he moves to stand next to Spencer.

"Yep." Spencer says shortly, waiting for the pot to brew. Luke feels the tension rolling off Spencer in waves, and it's all being directed at him and he's not sure why.

"Look, if I've done something to upset you, just talk to me about it Reid." Luke's voice is gentle, understanding. Spencer's jaw clenches again as the pot finishes brewing and he refreshes your cup before reaching for the creamer.

"I'm fine Alvez. Really." Spencer says again, but Luke isn't willing to let this go yet.

"No Reid, you're not-"

"Stop flirting with my wife." Spencer's tone is firm, and the look in his eyes tells Luke just how on edge Spencer is.

"You got it." Luke agrees instantly, even though he was never flirting with you. But he knows that right now arguing with Spencer will only make things worse. Seemingly satisfied with Luke's answer, Spencer carries your cup back you, slinging an arm around you.

┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

Spencer twists his wedding ring around his ring finger, something he does when he's stressed out or tense. You're currently sat in the interrogation room with the male suspect, a tattoo artist attending AA meetings, the tattoo on the first victim was the shakiest because he had just quit drinking. The other, more recent, victims tattoo's were more steady. The longer he stayed sober, the more his trembling faded. In Spencer's other palm is your wedding ring, you fit the physical preference of this killer perfectly, but he only went after single women. Emily thought sending somebody in fitting his victimology would throw him off enough to say something incriminating. In order for the rouse to work, you needed to appear single- meaning the wedding ring had to come off. The thought didn't settle well in Spencer's gut.

"You have to relax." JJ said suddenly from Spencer's right. He nearly ignored her but his frayed nerves were beginning to eat at him.

"I can't. Do you see the way he's looking at her?" Spencer was pacing back and forth in front of the one way glass like a caged animal, unable to take his eyes off of the train wreck happening in front of him.

"She can handle herself Spence." JJ insists gently, almost using a motherly tone to talk to him.

"She's mine!" And suddenly the crux of the issue comes to light, and Spencer pinches the bridge of his nose, releasing a heavy breath. JJ thinks about her words carefully, trying to find something to say that will calm him at least a little.

"Yeah, and nothing is going to change that Spencer. You need to relax, and you have to trust her. You're not in Prison anymore, nobody is going to take her from you." JJ says, looking him in the eyes. Suddenly the sound of metal screeching across a concrete floor sounds from behind Spencer and when he turns around, his blood boils hot in his veins. The suspect, Alan Baker, has shoved out of his chair and has started towards you.

"Spencer-" JJ's voice is distant, and comes too late. Spencer isn't listening to her anymore when his fist curls around the door handle and he nearly rips it off its hinges.

"You need to step back." Spencer snaps, reaching for his gun as Alan Baker backs you into the corner of the interrogation room. You weren't ever truly afraid, you could have handled Alan. Slowly, Alan backs away from you and Spencer instantly reaches for you. He leads you out of the room with a gentle but firm hand on your back. Once you're out of the interrogation room you turn to Spencer.

"What the hell? I could have dealt with him!" You insist, frustration laced in your tone. At this point JJ silently slips out of the room, giving you and Spencer some much needed privacy. Spencer crosses his arms as he leans back against the one way mirror.

"You didn't need to, I did." Spencer huffs and you seriously resist the urge to throw something at him.

"What is your problem today? You could have compromised my entire interrogation, he's never going to tell me anything now!" You snap, anger pinching at your features.

"Good! Now you have no reason to talk to him again." Spencer snaps back, can't you see that he's just protecting what's his?

"Spencer we're trying to save somebody! You're being selfish!" You say to him angrily, trying your best not to start yelling at him. Spencer's selfish possessiveness over you could have just ruined your entire investigation.

"This is why the Bureau was hesitant to reinstate you. They were scared you wouldn't be able to control yourself." You snap at him, crossing your arms.

"Are you saying they made a mistake?" Spencer asks incrediously, suddenly becoming defensive.

"Maybe they did. Because you're acting like an asshole right now. You've been a jerk to Luke the entire day when he busted his ass to help get you out of Prison and back to me! Since when have you not trusted me during an interrogation? What did you think was going to happen? That I was going to let him touch me? I thought you trusted me." You cry out, tears filling your eyes now. Spencer didn't say anything as you turned for the door, anger still laced in his features.

"This has nothing to do with me not trusting you-"

"If you don't trust me, then maybe you should just hold onto my wedding ring for a while. I don't want it." You snap quietly, and you regret the words the second they leave your lips. No matter how mad he makes you, you'd never leave Spencer. You watch Spencer's expression shift from anger to...hurt. He watches silently as you slam the door behind you. Prison has turned him into somebody he isn't, and Spencer doesn't know how to turn off this part of his brain. The part telling him that you belong to him, and that he needs to protect what's his.

Rossi catches the sight of your tear stained cheeks as you move back towards the kitchen in the precinct. You wipe your tears as he comes to stand beside you, and the look on his face tells you that he overheard your fight with Spencer. Rossi bumps you with his elbow gently, a small smile on his face.

"You don't look okay." He says softly and you let out a self-depreciating laugh.

"I'm not. I don't know how to help Spencer, he doesn't trust me." You say sadly, your heart breaking in your chest.

"It's not you he doesn't trust, it's other men." Rossi clarifies, although it does little to ease the pain. You reach up to brush your hair behind your ear when Rossi catches your hand, examining your ring finger.

"Where's your wedding ring?"

"Told Spencer I didn't want it." The words are laced with heavy regret, and when you remember the look on his face when you said it you almost start to cry again. Rossi wraps an arm around you, and you lean your head on his shoulder.

"Deep down, he knows you didn't mean it." He tries to reassure you.

"That's the problem, he probably thinks I meant it."

┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

Normally it only takes you and Spencer a few hours to smooth things over after a fight. But this time, it's been nearly 3 hours and you haven't spoken a word to each other. You're both working on searching through Alan Baker's financial records without speaking at all. Neither of you have said anything, and Spencer still has your wedding ring. You desperately want it back, but you don't know how to start that conversation. You're angry about how he's been treating everybody, and you feel like asking for your ring is accepting defeat. You're not ready to accept defeat. When Emily comes into the room, her eyes settle on the two of you.

"Okay, what's going on with you guys?" Her arms are crossed.

"Nothing." The word comes from both yours and Spencer's mouths at the same time, and you say it far too quickly. Emily raises one brow at the two of you before closing the door behind her.

"Alright I'm going to have to be a boss now. We are not going to lock this guy away if the two of you are fighting. We need everybody on their A-game. Fix it. Now, and I mean right now." She says, leaving the room but closing the door behind her. There's a suffocating silence that fills the room, both you and Spencer too stubborn to speak first. But you can't take it, you hate it when he's mad at you. You hate it when you guys fight, which isn't often but it does happen occasionally.

"I didn't mean it." You whisper, leaning on the table, facing away from him. Spencer doesn't say anything but you know he's listening.

"I didn't mean it Spencer, I want my ring." He'd be lying if he said he wasn't relieved to hear you say that, his entire world crashed down around him the second you told him to keep the ring. The irrational part of his brain told him you were going to divorce him.

"Can I please have it back?" You ask, barely turning your head to look at him. With a huff Spencer pushes away from the table to move in front of you. His eyes are focused on your hand, he has yet to look at you. Spencer fishes around in his pocket before he finds your ring and gently slides it onto your ring finger.

"You have to stop glaring at any man that gets to close to me, especially Luke." You tell him, but he continues to look away from you. Spencer pushes past you to stand near the windows, his back facing you. The thing about Spencer is that he's stubborn, really stubborn. You take a few steps towards him, nibbling on your lower lip.

"I love you Spencer, I'm sorry. I was an ass, but you acted like an ass too." You tell him, but Spencer only turns his head further away from you. You move to stand in front of him, but his eyes turn to the ground and his arms are crossed tightly. Seriously?

"Please talk to me Spencer, tell me what's going on." You can see the frustration laced in his features, there's something on the tip of his tongue that he needs to say.

"Spencer."

"After you left from your visit, do you know why I didn't let you come back?" Spencer snaps, his hands finding your shoulders to yank your body against his. Your chest collides with his and suddenly you feel a dampness building between your legs. You instantly turn to putty in his hands.

"I didn't let you come back because that asshole told everybody about you. Told everybody what a tight little body you have. Soon the entire cell block was fantasizing about my 'sexy wife'. Do you have any idea what it's like to listen to men constantly talk about fucking your wife?" Spencer's voice is tense, but you can see it. The lust building behind his eyes, the frustration, and the fear of losing you simmering underneath it all.

"N-No." Your voice is breathy, and your eyes are lidded as Spencer's hands slide up your arms to your shoulders.

"It's fucking hell Y/N. Every time I see any man look at you I want to rip his eyes out, and I can't turn it off. I've tried, and the way that Alvez looks at you- it drives me fucking crazy." Spencer snaps, the anger building by the second. Your entire body begins to hum with an intense need, and Spencer can see it in your eyes. Spencer releases you then and he turns for the door, at first you're afraid he's going to leave but instead he locks the door. Luckily it's late, so the police station is more deserted then it is during the day. Turning back to you, Spencer reaches for the blinds next and you can't help but follow his every movement with your eyes.

"Get on your knees." Spencer says suddenly, and you freeze in shock. Did he just say...?

"Get. On. Your. Knees." Spencer says again through clenched teeth, leaning back against the table, heat simmering in his eyes. His hands grip the edge of the table and you feel a throb from between your legs. Quickly you scramble onto your knees in front of him, your hands reaching up to undo his belt. Once the belt is unfastened, you're quickly unbuttoning his dress slacks, your eagerness making your hands a bit clumsy. Spencer has never been this dominant during sex, but you have no complaints. He has your knees weak and he hasn't even touched you. You quickly dip your hand into his boxers to pull his hardening cock out. As soon as his cock is freed, your lips are wrapping around the head. Spencer's head tosses back in ecstasy.

"Your lips look so pretty stretched around my cock. Those bastards could only imagine having you on your knees for them." Spencer snaps, his hand weaving into the hair at the back of your head. You moan softly around him at his crude words, slowly sliding down his cock. Spencer groans when he feels your tongue laving the underside of his cock, along the vein that runs from base to tip. Apparently feeling impatient, Spencer pushes your head further down his cock. He feels his tip right at the entrance of your throat, and with one gentle thrust he breaches your throat and his cock slides all the way into your mouth.

"Fuck," Spencer hisses, and Spencer does not curse often. So the fact that you have been able to draw curses from his mouth is nothing short of a miracle. Spencer's chest heaves slightly as you gag lightly around him, drawing another deep groan from his chest. You feel nearly desperate to please him, you need to make him cum. You want him to fucking pound you, you want him to use your body for his pleasure. You want him to release all of his frustration out on you, you want to be sore when he's done.

"You're mine. This is my body to touch and admire, my tight pussy to stretch open, mine." Spencer growls, thrusting gently to meet your hasty movements. You whimper around his cock, gagging slightly again as spit dribbles down your chin. Your eyes are wide and watery as you look up at him, and the sight of you nearly causes him to blow his load. You just look so fucking beautiful on your knees in front of him, drool on your chin and your mouth full of cock. It's a sight he will never forget. You move your head faster, keeping your eyes locked on his. Spencer squeezes the edge of the table, his head tossing back when his orgasm hits him. You feel his cum shooting in spurts to the back of your throat and you swallow every drop. Once you pull off him, Spencer is grabbing your elbows to pull you to stand.

Spencer's hands are reaching for the button of your dress slacks as his mouth presses messily to yours. Spencer's tongue pushes into your mouth, his hands pushing your pants down and you kick them off. Instantly, Spencer's fingers are sliding into your panties and through your slick folds. You whine loudly against his mouth, your eyes fluttering shut as his palm roughly cradles the back of your head.

"Need to make sure you know who you belong to." Spencer snaps as he pulls away from you, quickly pushing two long fingers into your dripping hole. You cry out before Spencer is slapping a hand over your mouth, your back pressed against the wall. Spencer's slender frame is leaning against you, effectively trapping you against the wall and his body. Your eyes are rolling when Spencer's finger crook inside of you while roughly thrusting into you.

"Gotta be quiet, wouldn't want Luke to catch us now would we?" Spencer breathes in the shell of your ear, sending goosebumps spreading over your skin. You are completely at Spencer's mercy and you wouldn't have it any other way. The pleasure shooting through you goes rocketing up your spine when Spencer scissors his fingers inside of you. You're mumbling incoherently against his palm, desperate pleas not to stop, to please let you cum. Your entire body is flushed, and you feel sweat on your skin like a sheen layer over you. Spencer feels you begin to squeeze around his fingers and he replaces his palm with his mouth, swallowing all of your moans and desperate cries.

Your back is arching as your high approaches, and you climb higher and higher to meet it. Spencer never lets up, his fingers steadily pumping into you and his lips muffling all of your cries of pleasure. The sounds you make are music to his ears, they tell him that you will always be his, no matter what childish fears he has. Your hands come up to unbutton the buttons on Spencer's dress shirt, you need to feel more of him. Before you can finish undressing your husband, his fingers nudge your cervix and you instantly clamp around his fingers, your body convulsing.

"You look so beautiful when you cum." Spencer praises, his cock rock hard again. He needs to be inside of you as soon as humanely possible. Spencer pulls away from you to grasp the base of his cock, no need to bother with protection. The two of you already agreed that you want to try for a baby anyway.

"Please baby, please get inside me. How could you think I'd ever leave you? I love you, and nobody could make me cum like you can." You moan desperately, turning to bend over the table. Spencer's hand runs up your spine, enjoying the way you wriggle your hips in search of his cock. There are butterflies squirming in your stomach as you spread your legs apart wider for him, but he still doesn't bring his cock closer to you.

"Oh c'mon Spence don't do this please. Baby, fuck me." You plead, nearly sobbing as you shamlessly beg. He presses his tip against your soaked entrance and you whine. You hear fabric rustling around and you turn your head just in time to see him pull his tie from around his neck.

"I needed to hear you beg for me, and this is to keep you quiet. As much as I love the sounds you make when I'm inside you, I can't let anyone else hear you." Spencer says, his voice low and rumbling from his chest. You open your mouth to let him tie the silk fabric in your mouth. You try to whimper but you gag around the tie in your mouth, and you see a pleased smile cross onto Spencer's face. Your fingers grasp at the edge of the table as you impatiently wait for Spencer to push into you. You feel his glorious cock nestled at your entrance, the tip barely nudging in. You feel another wave of slick gush out of you and Spencer is running his tip through your already drenched folds. Such a tease.

You whine softly, trying to push back against him. Spencer chuckles darkly before his hands grasp your hips to hold you steady. With one firm thrust, Spencer is breaching your folds and sliding deep inside you. You feel heat searing through you, your head dropping to the table as you whimper through the burn. The stretch burns more then you anticipated, and you hear Spencer groaning softly, which sends another wave of liquid heat rushing through you.

"God you feel so good baby, you take my cock so fucking well." Spencer praises, gently pulling out to slowly thrust back in. His eyes are locked on the place where you two connect, watching with hooded eyes as his cock disappears inside you.

"I wish you could see this baby, I love watching you take my cock." He praises through a soft moan, and you drink up every sound he makes. Spencer needed this so bad and you love the fact that you can give him a type of relief nobody else on the planet can give him. Spencer steadily thrusts into you when you both hear footsteps slowly passing outside the room. You expect Spencer to stop, to pull out of you and start redressing but he doesn't. He slows his pace considerably, but he still slowly thrusts into you.

"Shh, I would hate for whoever that is to see my cock buried in your pretty pussy." Spencer whispers as he leans forward to whisper in your ear. You struggle to contain the whimpers, but somehow you remain completely silent as Spencer gently thrusts into you. Once whoever it is passes by, Spencer resumes his quicker thrusts. His pelvis hits your ass with enough force to send you lurching across the table and your fingers scramble to find purchase against the smooth surface.

"This is my pussy, you're my wife, you're mine. Not Luke's, not that dick from the Prison. Mine." Spencer says, punctuating the words with a sharp thrust into you. You wished you could answer him, that you could cry to the heavens that you belong to Spencer Reid- that you never want to belong to anybody else. You settle for squeezing his cock whenever it returns to your velvety warmth, chanting the same word in your head over and over.

Yours yours yours yours yours.

Your forehead presses against the table, muffled and strangled cries escaping your lips every time Spencer hits deep inside you. His cock stretches you perfectly, and always hits places deep inside you. Places you didn't know existed. Soon you feel your orgasm creeping up on you, and you feel lightheaded so you reach up to yank the tie away from your mouth.

"Please make me cum Spence, I'm so close baby please don't stop." You beg, muffling your moans with your palm as he drives his cock into you. You feel sweat covering your entire body and Spencer holds your hips with a bruising force. You feel that coil winding tighter and tighter, and you release a high pitched whine when Spencer's hand snakes around your body to thumb your clit.

"Oh Spencer your cock feels so good, soo good baby. Always feels so good, fuck baby I love you," You're not sure what you're saying at this point, an incoherent mess of praises for the man above you. Spencer loves when he reduces you to this, speaking in a jumble of words and disconnected statements because you can't think with his cock inside you.

"I, shit, I love you-" Spencer gasps, slamming his cock inside you and rolling your clit before you're squeezing around him tightly, your mouth falling open in a silent scream. You cum in hot gushes around him and Spencer can only offer a few more stuttering thrusts before he's cumming with a loud growl, coating your walls in his hot cum. Spencer keeps his cock inside you, ensuring his cum stays inside you. He wants to get you pregnant. His palms gently hold your hips, and all the frustration he's felt all day has completely disappeared. His chest is heaving from the exertion but he feels more relaxed then he has all day. There's a smile on your face and your eyes are closed as your legs finally give out and you collapse against the table.

"You okay?" You hear Spencer's voice, and you can't help but smile when you hear that he's panting slightly. You hum with a smile on your face.

"I'm amazing." You mumble back, feeling Spencer begin to gently massage your back. You love enjoying the afterglow with him, even if you're laying on a table. Slowly Spencer pulls out, but he groans softly when he sees his cum inside your pussy. He reaches to the floor to pull your panties and dress slacks back up your legs and he quickly tucks himself back into his pants. He buttons the 4 buttons you managed to open on his shirt before he's gently pulling you to stand.

"You sure you're alright?" Spencer asks, concern in his eyes. You nod with a smile, but when he releases his hold on your shoulders, you feel your legs tremble and give out underneath you. Spencer immediately catches you and sets you down on the table. You laugh softly.

"Guess you fucked me good."

"Sorry." Spencer says sheepishly, but you press a chaste kiss to his lips.

"Don't be, that had to have been the best sex we've had in a long time." You mumble against his lips and Spencer hums in agreement. Reaching for his tie, Spencer shoves it in his pocket before he pokes his head out of the room you guys just defiled.

"Spencer, I'm so sorry about what I said. I love you so much, I didn't mean what I said about my ring-" You blubber suddenly, drawing Spencer's attention to you. He cradles your head against his chest, pressing kisses to your forehead.

"I know baby, it's okay. I love you." Spencer answers quietly, holding you to him tightly.

"I'm sorry I was a jerk today. I'm just so protective of you. I can't let anything steal you from me." Spencer admits softly and you cup his cheeks to make him look at you. There is a sadness in his eyes that you want to obliterate, you can't stand it when he's sad. It breaks your heart.

"Nothing could steal me from you. I only want you Spencer." You say quietly and you see tears misting his eyes. He presses his lips desperately against yours, and you feel tears cascading down yours and his cheeks. The kiss is wet, but it's passionate and you throw every ounce of love you have for this man into it. When you and Spencer part, your foreheads are pressed together.

"Hey Spence? How am I gonna get to the hotel. I can't walk." You say softly with a giggle and Spencer smiles mischievously.

"I guess I'll have to carry you." He scoops you bridal style into his arms then and you blush deeply when he carries you out of the room and towards the front entrance.

"Spencer! Everybody is going to know!" You whisper into his ear and he chuckles.

"Good."

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer x y/n #spencer x you #post prison spencer #jealousy #possessive #criminal minds #smut #spencer reid x you #spencer x reader #jealous smut

4K notes · View notes

the-bau-quinjet · 3 years

Text

Secret's Out

Summary: Request! Reid and Y/N are secretly dating, but their business doesn't stay their business for long.

Warnings: Criminal Minds level violence

Word Count: 2974

a/n: Thank you for the request! I hope you like it :)

Sorry this took forever! It took me a while to think of case details that I liked and then I kept rewriting parts. I think I'm finally happy with it though!

Masterlist

"Spencer!" You pushed him away. "The doors could open at any moment! How are we supposed to keep this a secret if Morgan walks in on us kissing in the elevator?" You raised a brow at him.

"On average, elevators travel at a speed of 200 ft/min or about 4 seconds per floor. Being on the fifth floor means we have about 20 seconds to ourselves." He smiled triumphantly.

"Yeah, until someone surprises us on floor 3." You rolled your eyes, stepping out of the doors once they opened.

"I can't help it. I'm just... really happy with you." He whispered softly.

"I'm really happy too." You smiled at him. You were about to lean in when the elevator doors opened once again to reveal JJ and Emily.

"Hey guys, ready for another case?" Emily glanced between you suspiciously, but thankfully didn't ask any prying questions.

"Yep, let's go!" You turned quickly, walking into the round table room without so much as a glance back at the three agents by the elevator.

"What's with her?" JJ questioned.

"Said she didn't sleep well last night. Must be all the caffeine." He held his own cup off coffee up in solidarity before also walking to the round table room.

"Alright, we've got 3 dead in Billings, Montana. All three were law enforcement, and all three were found this morning around the city." You listened as Penelope introduced the details of the case.

"Could be someone who feels the police didn't do a good enough job protecting a loved one?" You threw out a theory.

"Or someone who feels wronged by the criminal justice system as a whole." Rossi added on.

"Either way, they likely won't stop until we catch them. Wheels up in 20." Hotch rose from his seat as he spoke, wasting no time in preparing for take off.

You all dispersed briefly to grab your go bags, meeting back at the SUVs to head to the jet.

Once boarded, it didn't take long for the conversation to start up again.

"When we land, L/N go to the morgue. Dave, Prentiss take the first and second crime scenes, they're only a mile apart. Morgan and Reid, check out the third scene. I'll head to the precinct with JJ."

With Hotch's instructions set, you took what little time you had left on the flight to go over the causes of death.

"Anything stand out to you on the bodies?" You asked the ME after going over the blunt force trauma and bullet wounds.

"There's tape residue and bruising on the wrists and ankles. Based on the state of bruising, they were likely held for about 3 days before they were killed."

"Thank you for your help." You shook hands, pulling out your phone to call Hotch.

"Hotchner."

"Hotch, they were held for days before they were killed. How did nobody notice they were missing?" There was nothing in the reports that indicated the victims were reported missing prior to being found.

"We just found the same pattern. They all used vacation days for various reasons in the days leading up to their deaths. Meet us back at the precinct and Reid can explain the whole pattern."

"Okay, I'm leaving now." You hung up just as you reached the SUV. Throughout the drive, you couldn't stop thinking that something wasn't adding up.

The victims were taken in the same day. It didn't make sense for the unsub not to escalate. So, why aren't any officers unaccounted for?

Suddenly, a truck crashed into your SUV, sending you flying off the road. A figure dressed in black opened the door and dragged you from the car.

"Agent L/N, it's so good to see you again." A male voice spoke, but you couldn't place it.

He hit you over the head with a handgun before dragging you to his own vehicle.

"Where's L/N?" Emily questioned when her and Rossi returned from the second dumpsite.

"On her way back from the ME." Hotch answered. "Did you find anything useful?"

"They truly are dumpsites. Both bodies were found by dumpsters, sending a pretty clear message." Dave replied.

"Same for the third site." Derek added on.

"All three victims were single and took time off leading up to their death. Nobody would've notice that they were missing until it was too late." Reid supplied the final bit of information gathered.

Hotch's phone rang before anyone else could comment. The frantic sound of Garcia's nails clicking against her keyboard echoed through the phone. She was talking before anyone could greet her.

"You need to see this, check your tablets."

Confused glances were exchanged as everyone, barring Reid, opened their tablets. Reid glanced over Morgan's shoulder to observe as well.

A seemingly live video that Garcia received a link to was streaming to the tablets.

A single woman sitting in a chair could be seen in the frame. Her wrists and ankles were bound to the chair with thick, gray tape and a bag was over her head.

"Garcia, what is this?" Hotch asked almost immediately.

"I was emailed the link just now. It's not streaming anywhere else online." Her reply came quickly, the sound of typing still filling in the silence.

"Can you trace it?" Rossi questioned.

"I'm trying, but it's being routed through multiple proxy servers."

"Did the email say anything?" Emily chimed in.

"No, it was just the link- Wait. I just got another email." She paused as the new email loaded. "It's addressed to Reid."

Every set of eyes in the room turned to Reid.

"What does it say?" He felt the nerves beginning to grow waiting for Garcia to read the words aloud.

"Dr. Reid,

I hope you remember me. What am I saying, of course you do. I've got something of yours that you might want back. You see Dr. Reid, you and your team ruined me. My family, my career, all of it, just gone. I thought I'd return the favor. A person's phone can be so informative. Tell me, does your team know about your girlfriend? I've so enjoyed getting reacquainted with her.

Happy hunting."

Spencer's face went white as he looked at Morgan's tablet again. His thoughts were racing. How did he not recognize you before? Even with the bag over your head, he should've known it was you.

"It's her." His words were barely a whisper.

"This is your girlfriend?" Morgan gestured to the screen again. Spencer could only nod in reply, his mind unable to focus on anything except you.

"Reid, listen to me. You've got to tell us everything you know about her. We'll have to split up. You can go back to Quantico with Emily and Morgan, the rest of us will stay here to work on our current case." Hotch was already devising a strategy to work both cases.

"There's no need." His words made sense to him, but sounded cryptic to the rest of the team.

"Kid, of course there is. We'll help you get her back." Morgan placed a hand on his shoulder, effectively shocking him back to the present situation.

"There's no need to split up because she's here. She's in Montana." Before he could continue, everyone was asking questions.

"Give me a phone number and I'll get you a location." Garcia was already typing away again.

"Are you sure she's here?" JJ's brows furrowed. She did her best to hide the hurt of her best friend hiding his girlfriend from her, again.

"Why would she be here?" Rossi added.

"How did she get here? Maybe we can track the transportation and figure out means of abduction." Emily was the only one thinking about the case.

Like ripping off a bandaid, Spencer blurted out the truth.

"It's Y/N."

He was met with silence in the room as everyone absorbed the information.

Garcia caught up first, a sudden gasp sounding through the phone.

"So, then that's Y/N... in the video..." Her voice wavered.

As if a switch was flipped, the team was back on the case.

"Garcia, get me a list of anyone who would have a grievance with the team." Hotch ordered.

"Go through anyone who was falsely accused. Start with cases in or around Montana. He would want to keep this close to home." Rossi specified.

"We've only had one case in Montana since Y/N joined the team." Reid supplied the knowledge as it came to him. "A name, I need a name." He muttered to himself, pulling his hair as he roughly ran his hands through it and over his face. "Garcia, look into Jameson Braddock."

"Got it." She immediately began a background check, searching through case files and news articles for additional information. "i'll get back to you with locations." With that, she hung up.

"Fill us in, kid. Who is Jameson Braddock." Morgan lead Reid to a chair, gently easing him into it.

"Our last case in Montana, Emily and I went to interview a witness." Emily nodded, the memories slowly coming back to her.

"He wasn't very forthcoming, and then he tried to run." She added on.

"Exactly, except he didn't make it very fair. We arrested him, but it turned out he was only guilty of selling alcohol to minors. When word of his arrest got out, the whole town thought it was for the serial rapes and murders we were investigating even though it was never confirmed."

"By the time we corrected the media, it was too late." JJ supplied, also remembering the man.

"So, he killed three officers just to draw us out back out here?" Morgan refocused the conversation on the current case.

"It looks that way now. The media knew we were coming, so he must have as well." Emily theororized. "If he followed us from the airport, he would've seen Y/N leave by herself."

"He likely didn't know about your relationship until he abducted her and went through her phone." Hotch paced the room.

"He's flaunting his power over us." Rossi chimed in just as Hotch's phone rang again.

"Garcia, what've you got?"

"Three addresses in Billings, Montana. Jameson Braddock has been on a downward spiral since your last trip there. His entire life fell apart, like he said. Divorced, his wife moved to Nebraska with their two kids. He lost his job at the high school, and was evicted from his house when he could no longer pay the bills." She listed the information quickly.

"He has ties to three addresses. Nobody has moved into his previous house, so it's vacant. He's got a small apartment in the northern part of the city which he pays for through working odd hours at Taco Bell. Finally, he briefly worked security at a now abandoned warehouse."

"An apartment wouldn't be enough space to hold her without the chance of someone hearing. She's not there." Rossi eliminated the location as an option.

"We'll split up to cover the warehouse and the house-" Hotch began, but Reid cut him off.

"No, we shouldn't split up. She's got to be at the house. The warehouse has no connection to his previous life. He wants revenge for our perceived wrongdoing, he wouldn't make his last stand at a new location." Reid was already putting on a bullet proof vest. Despite how his mind was racing, he refused to show how afraid he was.

"You're sure?" Morgan asked, on the fence about committing to one location.

"Absolutely." With that, Reid was out the door heading for the SUVs.

"Rossi, Emily head around back. I'll take the front with Reid. JJ and Morgan, the side door." Hotch instructed the team to split up upon arrival at the house.

Reid wasted no time in approaching the house. He was confident you were inside, but he didn't know what was happening to you.

The main floor was cleared quickly. Again, the team split up to cover the upper level and the basement.

Knowing you were likely downstairs, Reid immediately started that direction, JJ and Hotch following him.

It wasn't hard for him to find you. You were still tied to the chair in the middle of the room, bag over your head.

Before anyone could stop him, Reid lowered his gun and ran to you. He gently maneuvered the bag off your head, stopping his movements only when he felt something press into his back.

"Dr. Reid. So kind of you to join us." Braddock spoke maniacally, pressing the gun against Reid's head.

"Drop your weapon." Hotch commanded, but the man only cackled in response.

'Y/N... Y/N." Reid gently shook you in an attempt to wake you up.

"She can't hear you." Braddock singsonged.

"What did you do?" Reid tried to turn to him only to feel the gun press further into his head.

"Like I said in my email, you people ruined my life. They took everything from me, so I thought I'd try to return the favor." During his short speech, Braddock shifted just enough for JJ to get a clean shot.

He fell to the ground, gun clattering across the floor.

Reid moved quickly to remove the tape binding you to the chair while Hotch called for a medic in the basement.

The entire team watched as you were wheeled into the ambulance, still unconscious, none more scared than Spencer.

"She's going to be fine, Spence." JJ tried to reassure him, nonetheless his pacing continued.

"You don't know that. We don't even know what he did to her." He had one hand anxiously running through his hair, the other pinching the bridge of his nose in distress.

Just then, a doctor emerged from behind closed doors.

"F/N L/N." She called into the waiting room, slightly taken aback when the group of agents rushed to her.

"It was touch and go for a while, but she got here just in time." It was visible to even the least qualified profiler how relieved the team felt. Their previously tense shoulders relaxed, frowns turned to small smiles, wide eyes and raised brows pinched together with joy.

"What happened?" Emily posed the question everyone was thinking.

"In short, she was drugged. It's not clear what exactly was used, but it was likely a mix of drugs that attempted to stop her heart."

"Can we see her?" Morgan spoke next, cautiously eyeing Reid.

"You may, follow me." The doctor lead them through a series of hallways to your room. "She should be waking up soon."

With that the doctor left, allowing the team to file into the room. You looked strangely peaceful for someone who almost died.

"So..." JJ glanced between you and Spencer. "Girlfriend, huh?"

His eyes went wide. Instinctively, he turned to you for help, but you were still asleep. He opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out.

"Relax, kid." Morgan grinned. "We're happy as long as you two are happy."

Spencer smiled gratefully, looking at you with an adoring gaze. "We are happy."

"How long?' Emily gestured to your joined hands. Just before Spencer could answer, you groaned.

"I want to hear your guesses first." Your voice was raspy, but there was a clear smile on your face. "Also, what happened?"

The quickly explained the email Garcia received and the events that followed.

"Now that that's cleared up, do tell us how long you think we've been together. I know you've got a bet going." You narrowed your eyes, playfully glaring at each team member.

"4 months." Hotch begrudgingly admitted. JJ followed with 3 months, Derek and Rossi both betting 10 weeks, and Emily going with 6 weeks.

"Ha, you're all wrong." You smiled triumphantly, leaning closer to Spencer.

"Wait, we haven't heard from Garcia." Derek smirked as he rung her on speaker phone.

"Oh, my beautiful crime fighters. Y/N, are you okay?" Your smile widened at the concern in her voice.

"I am indeed, but I have a very important question for you." You glanced as Spencer briefly before continuing. "How long do you think Spence and I have been together?"

"Oh, I know this one!" Her excitement caught everyone but you off guard. "7 months, 2 weeks, and 3 days."

Spencer's jaw dropped as he stuttered out, "that's exactly right..."

"How'd you figure it out?" The group of profilers wore matching expressions of surprise as Penelope explained.

"Well, we had just finished testifying in the Bigelow trial. The whole team went out for drinks, and I could just see it in Y/N's eyes the next day that something wonderful happened. At first I just thought that she got some, but then I saw her and the good doctor in the kitchen getting coffee and I knew." Penelope's voice held a mixture of smugness and pure excitement.

"Babygirl, you didn't tell me?" Derek sounded genuinely offended.

"Y/N asked me not to." Even though you couldn't see her, you knew she punctuated the statement with a shrug.

"You knew, she knew?" Spencer turned to you in shock.

You nodded. "I could see it on her face the second I walked out of the kitchen. But she promised not to tell, so I didn't either."

"The two of you, thick as thieves." Rossi lamented.

"I love you so much." Spencer whispered into your ear as he pulled you in for a hug.

"I love you too." You whispered right back.

"Honestly, I'm glad the secret's out." You smiled at Spencer before looking at the rest of the team. "Although, I wish I didn't have to be kidnapped to tell you."

You spent a few more hours in the hospital before being cleared to go back to the hotel.

The next morning, you smiled to yourself as you were finally able to cuddle with Spencer during the flight home.

Permanent taglist:

@averyhotchner

@jesuswasnotawhiteman

@strawberryspence

@sebastnstn

Criminal Minds taglist:

@mac99martin

@goldeng1rl8

@measure-in-pain

#spencer reid x reaader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fic #spencer reid one shot #criminal minds fic

505 notes · View notes

bitimdrake · 2 years

Note

Weird question to ask this late, but in a far off universe where Tim somehow ends up being the Robin to get murdered by the Joker instead of Jason, what are the affects afterwards and how is Back-To-Life Tim different from Back-To-Life Jason? I like your blog by the way.

This is a very interesting question!!

My first thought is that Tim and Jason have fundamentally different principles. Jason’s return as the Red Hood was a new direction for the character, but it drew from characterization established back when he was Robin--his growing anger towards the criminals he found most heinous, his righteous fury whenever they seemed to “get off the hook,” his questioning of Batman’s code in general.

But Tim doesn’t have that. He believes in the no-kill code. We’ve seen him, like everyone, tread up to that line, but it always comes from an outburst of emotion he regrets later, not a decision of principle. And specifically, every time I can think of comes from him reacting to someone he loves getting hurt.

On top of that, Tim is someone who is really really aware of and intent on Batman and Robin as Symbols. Symbols of hope for Gotham, of unstoppable justice for criminals. Batman is more than what he individually accomplishes to Tim; he’s also what he represents.

Basically: I don’t think a back-to-life Tim would ever try to get Bruce to kill for him. Because Batman is a symbol that shouldn’t be tarnished.

The flip side of this is that being violently murdered, abruptly brought back to life, collapsing into a coma, and then waking up in a Lazarus Pit is, yknow, pretty traumatic. Bound to effect a kid. And for the sake of this parallel, I think we should also assume here that the Lazarus Pit effects our hypothetical Tim the same way it effects Jason in canon--by dulling his empathy, blunting his compassion, making him colder and more single-focused. (And not, as in popular fanon, by giving him random bursts of ‘pit rage’.)

The personal side may change depending on what the backstory of this is--if Jason survives in this verse is he on good terms with Tim? Does Dick still become reintegrated with the family and close with Tim? Is this a total reversal where Tim instead has Damian for a predecessor--and in that case, does he still know Cass and/or Steph before his death? Young Justice? There are a lot of details that can shift.

BUT no matter what, I assume he has Bruce and Alfred at the very least, and a relationship to them that isn’t totally changed from comics. Which means Tim deeply cares about them and considers them family (and if his dad dies before his own death in this verse, they literally are family), and is grateful to them for giving him that.

If we’re following roughly with Tim’s usual perspective on Robin, he started the whole thing assuming it would be a temporary stint and he would move on (either being replaced, or just knowing Batman was okay without a Robin now). But he ended up embracing and loving the role, before landing in a headspace where he expected to be Robin for a long time, maybe forever.

WHICH MEANS when he comes back and sees a new Robin, there is still surely sadness and anger and resentment and all the things you would expect from a kid would died and found someone new in their place...but I also think that would be far more tempered than it was for Jason.

So my ultimate question is this: given these circumstances, what does a Tim Drake who is a little less empathetic and compassionate do? And I look to comics and say: He takes on the same traits from his lowest times as Robin and Red Robin: neglecting every facet of life except for The Mission, trying to control every single factor, trying to control an entire city, trying to plan for every outcome. When he’s furious at someone for hurting a loved one, he doesn’t care enough to stop from killing them. Even as he loves people, he’s controlling or condescending, certain he knows what’s best for them without bothering to ask them. He doesn’t stop believing in Batman and Robin, he doesn’t stop loving his family/friends, but he no longer knows how to be a part of it. He knows how to protect them from threats, but puts less focus on protecting their emotional states--ironically, losing the very reason he became Robin in the first place.

My pitch for back-to-life Tim is that he doesn’t have any flashy entrance or name. He’s in the field as much as he’s behind a screen, trying to manipulate from afar. He doesn’t kill because he thinks killing is right--he kills to protect the people he still cares about in the back of his mind. Sometimes he kills to protect them from killing. He’s convinced he’s right, and they just can’t see that he’s doing what’s best for them. He’s helping! He’s ensuring that Batman and Robin can never be hurt or fall.

If he does go after the new Robin, it’s not to lash out and prove he’s better (a la Jason). It’s a game, it’s training, it’s to ensure the new kid will be good enough to uphold the mantle and help Batman--and nudge him along if he’s not there yet.

He’s the guardian angel they don’t want, the scalpel he thinks Gotham needs. And he won’t go home, because he’s decided he’s more useful away...and scared he won’t fit anymore.

(additional considerations under the cut)

I think Tim still might go after the Joker for killing him, but he’d tell himself it’s to ensure Batman will never be pushed into doing it himself.

I also think, opposite of Jason, Tim would avoid confrontation with the family. Again, he’d tell himself that it’s because he’s most effective away from them, or that they might get in the way because they don’t understand, or that it’s just better. But I think he’d really just be scared of it.

SEPARATE THOUGHT. If Jason doesn’t die here, that means we have a Tim who became Robin without the specter of a dead predecessor around every corner. I still don’t see Tim throwing caution to the wind, but I think he’d be a little less careful than he was in his early days of canon. He could have fun with the role from day one. He’s still aware, technically, that this is dangerous...but he’s not aware aware of it, like canon Tim is at every moment.

Which means this hypothetical Tim could very well get the same "he was too reckless" retroactive treatment after his death. When Bruce is doing his self-blame grief thing (perhaps, like Jason, not knowing the full circumstances that led to Tim's death), "I should have made him be more careful" is an easy thing to latch onto.

ALSO. I think Talia’s actions and motives remain largely the same here--she finds her beloved’s undead protege, tries to take care of him both for the sake of the hurt kid, and with the idea she might get back into Bruce’s good graces. But things could be totally different after Tim wakes up. There’s nothing I can think of in comics that gives Tim and Talia any kind of positive relationship--but on the other hand, her love for Jason sprang up through taking care of him while catatonic, and the same could easily be true for Tim. And in this version I’ve proposed, Tim wants to help Bruce instead of hurting him, which is inverted from Jason.

So Talia is less concerned at first, because, great, that’s what she wants too! Only, like with Jason, it becomes quickly clear to her that things have gone very wrong with Tim. He’s cold, callous, focused on one mission. And, despite his motives, Tim doesn’t want to just go home and talk to Bruce, in a way that would make Talia look good. So maybe she delays him too, just like Jason, hoping all this work on how to guard Batman and Robin will get through to him and turn him back into a kid she can present to Bruce all “look, I brought your son home!”

And then Death and the Maidens, and Talia flips from loving Bruce to wanting to hurt him, and Tim is not on board with that, so. Probably a serious falling out.

Alternately and/or in conjunction. Ra’s! In canon, he thought Talia was ridiculous for maintaining hope in a catatonic Jason and was later furious about Jason being thrown in his Pit, but he also had some interest in Tim. Which one wins out here? Is he on board with Talia’s pet project because he thinks Tim can be useful--and therefore probably plays a significant role in Tim’s second life, maybe eclipsing all the Talia stuff above? Or does he still consider a catatonic Detective’s son useless, and still hold extreme possessiveness over the Lazarus Pit?

LASTLY. Tim as Robin had a lot more connections and friends than Jason as Robin--Steph and Cass in Gotham, a closer relationship with Dick, tight friendships with a team of his own, etc. (And maybe also Jason as a brother in this ‘verse.) Which means there are a whole lot more people personally effected by his return and intent on kicking some sense into him and/or bringing him home.

And that support system could make a really big difference once they realize he’s back.

#i'm also answering this late so maybe i'll just pretend it's still the day you sent this :P #this au is my guilt pleasure. i love thinking about how things would change with flipped kids #thanks for the ask :3 #dc #tim drake #*#*dc #dc meta #ask #anon #dc idea tag

96 notes · View notes

lexpressobean · 3 years

Text

I've been thinking about these 3 alot...

... and how much they seem to really respect Shino. I know it's a filler, but, like... Why does it seem like Shino has a knack for finding children who have wondered off away from school? Like, he's just taking a walk, making his way around the village or surrounding forest, and then there they are. Kids playing hooky or some shit. And Shino just takes it upon himself to approach them and steer them back to where they should be, while getting them attached to him somehow in the process??

But honestly. If this was just one of many times this had happened, I'd say Shino does this not out of his knack for teaching or having a way with kids. Rather, he developed a way with kids and easily applies that to his teaching because he has a strong desire to simply protect children. And it's not even from some paternal instinct as much as survival, because I think it stems from the developing trauma of losing Torune to Danzo. And I don't think it's all subconscious either.

Like I know the novel and anime frames his desicion to teach as a sort of a new goal in life as the war has ended for a couple years already and a noticable Peace has been achieved by the Blank Period and well... He's an Aburame.

Like, the Aburame are literal living, breathing, walking bioweapons. With no fight to utilize that, what else is there? Well, much like the Nara have the Nara forest and Pharmacology specifically, The Aburame most likely have a historical stake in the area of Konoha, perhaps it was simply in their Ancestral Home. Idk, but they're here to stay, they ain't budging. They're Clan Culture is very Martial and I'd argue Spartan in nature, but otherwise, they do other things too. I think they'd do well as major players in the conservation and research of native species of animals and plants, but definitely insects too. I bet they play a huge part in the general area's ecosystem, especially due to the fact that the Kamizuru clan attacked with a whole clan's worth of non-native Hymenoptera that could very well have become and still are an irritatingly and consistent problem as invasive species tend to be. And as a far as goods go, why not put some of them to use and handle an apiary? Honey is a great good to sell. All of this is great as a clan that no longer needs to fight. But, what about individual members in general, and so Shino?

Well Shino is the Heir of this clan. This Noble Clan. This "ready to throw hands at any moment" clan. It's future is in his hands, so to speak. So I doubt Shino would completely sever his connection to Shinobi life all together. And so, teaching at the Academy would be a great way to keep that connection. Teachers have to know their stuff, after all.

But what if in order to ensure teaching was his calling, Shino did his absolute best to make Jounin ASAP so he could take on a Genin Team. And. And by chance, it ended up being these three?? And they are absolutely STOKED!!! And they also pass Shino's genin test, which... would probably be a feat in it's own right. But they already know Shino, and Shino has bestowed upon them some wisdom they actually took to heart! Yeah, well, in reality they might be just a tad too old to be Shino's first official genin squad, but they were still his squad one point in a sense, right?

Kon Nohara, Tano Ikemoto, and Aoki Kobayashi

I even gave them names help Imagine these three are already chuunin at least and decide they want to pay Shino a visit and even volunteer to help Shino during class time on a collective day off because they admire him so much (T~T)

But even then if not these three kiddos, maybe these three li'l shits lol

Even in times of Peace, Shino's special set of skills seem too useful to waste, and being a Jounin teacher would definitely have been a way he could still go on missions, but also definitely commit to becoming a Sensei at the academy once he was 100% sure and got older. Kurenai became a Jounin/Genin Squad Leader in her late twenties, but in comparison I see Shino doing that more mid-20s. (He needs some time to travel and find his big bug friend and generally live a little?)

Kurenai was a Genjutsu Specialist who manned a Tracker/Sensing based team. This sounds like it was a highly beneficial combination, even if she ended up being somewhat sadistic lol. Asuma was bound to Team 10 by Tradition as InoShikaCho and Sarutobi have that Pact together. Kakashi's team was literally Cherry Picked for him specifically by the 3rd Hokage. And Gai, a Taijutsu Specialist, had a team that Specialized in Taijutsu and Physical Offense.

Of all four teams, Kurenai and Gai were very suited to their teams, Gai in a complimentary way and Kurenai in a Challenging way. In that same vein, I think Shino would imitate Gai. Shino as a Shinobi himself has a general set of skills, but the way he goes about them are very niche. But, he was always very stealthy, and could sneak up on nearly anyone. Gags aside, he could go unnoticed as long as he wanted too, and by the time he was noticed or was ready to attack, he has you quite literally surrounded. Honestly I can see why Search and Destroy would be an Aburame's forte, but when there's no need, a person with a personal skill of high quality stealth could probably man a team with an emphasis on Reconnaissance and/or Surveillance, even Bodyguarding. I feel like Shino would probably put an emphasis on Stealth and Tracking too, utilizing his insects as sort of assistants that keep tabs on his students (Stealth Test) as well as to encourage just enough fear during too much down time in his students to inspire quality training opportunities, so maybe Kurenai rubbed off on Shino more than they all realized haha

(Plus I'm sure his students would be be smart and thoughtful enough to eventually understand what Shino and his bugs are: a complete unit. They realize just how strong and dedicated Sensei really is to be the way he is, and they all learn more in depth about Kikaichu and it's like WOW SENSEI YOU REALLY ARE RISKING BEING EATEN ALIVE EVERY SINGLE DAY, AREN'T YOU? But he's still here, because THAT'S how strong he's become over the years and the confidence to manipulate the Kikaichu while having to think of current chakra level, the most efficient use at any given time, how many he actually needs, how long usage will last, ect. They are high maintenance, man!)

Shino would no doubt produce highly skilled Bodyguards and Masters of Stealth. Maybe the type that would end up being in high demand for the eventual Celebrities that start to pop up as times change, but still very much needed when it comes to Criminal Activity, like in Sora-Ku?

But as time passes and he decided to teach at the Academy, he'd feel very at ease to do so. He'd be happy to be put in charge of all these children, because he would be able to help teach them things they need to know to defend themselves and others in a world where adults like Danzo had and will continue to exist. Maybe while he's at it, he'd use his stance as a Noble Clan Heir and accomplished Shinobi to push for changes in government with Sai's help and with Naruto and Shikamaru's cooperation? Like, the truth does come out, everyone on the Council were actually horrible and had too much power. So HERE are some ideas and REASONS why these ideas should be implemented because Shino's not going to let his brother's life and death be in vain!? HELL no, we WILL make some changes around here. Shino sees his students and just wants a future where no kid ever has to live in fear of being completely taken advantage of by the very system that was supposed to keep them safe and they pledged allegiance to.

I cannot help but think of the quiet but absolute fear little Shino was harboring for the years to come after Torune was taken by that strange man and Father Shibi didn't even attempt to stop him. His own father didn't dare beat the shit out of this strange man who came looking for him, and the only solution for Shino to stay was for Torune to make himself look more desirable as an asset and be taken instead. I bet there was a lot of misplaced resentment there for a while, and talks that just didn't happen. Maybe a classmate doesn't show up to class one day and Shino is IMMEDIATELY stressed out and just... takes it upon himself to look for them after class. And he's relieved when he see they're simply at home with a fever. Shit like that just fucks with Shino, because theres people taking kids and no one is doing anything about it?? And then as Shino grew older he realized exactly what happened and how slimy the machine of Konoha really is and it was never completely Shibi's fault that Torune had to leave. He grows mentally at a faster rate than most of his classmates, and knows more than a kid really needs to know.

Shino doesn't want that for any other child. Shino is the kind of person who hears kids screaming outside of his house and he can't tell if they're playing or being murdered and it's stressful to the point he'll check through his window and he sees them for himself. He get stressed out seeing a kid in public unattended and WANTS to approach them to help if need be but also maybe he's overthinking it and the parents are there somewhere and he'd just end up looking suspicious. Like, that's what I kind of figure for Shino. He's so hyperaware of the power dynamic between kids and adults and seeing a kid so ready to fall victim to that makes Shino feel ill the more he thinks of what could happen. And he wonders if watching the kid in the market until they finally reunite with their parent so he could move on with the rest of his day causes him even a fraction of the the utterly disgusting flurry of nerves and fear that Shibi must have felt all those years ago. It goes along with his desire to spare every single little insect's life he can. It goes a long with the fact he only gets violent unless absolutely necessary. Like he wants to be strong but he doesn't want to go mad with power either, less he becomes the very thing that hurt him and his family in the first place.

Originally Shino wanted to become strong to be able to defend himself because at a very young age adults failed him and Torune. But then that changes to defend not only himself, but others as he grows on a team, and realizes trust is important. And then he figured if there must be adults out there that would hurt a child, it's only logical that he should become one that would only nurture and teach one to be strong as well.

Anyway, yeah. Had some feelings. Thanks for coming to my TED talk.

#anime: naruto #aburame shino #shino aburame #tis i #i wish we could've seen jounin-sensei Shino #imagine he's consistently given a team of -bad kids-#but by the next chuunin they're an absolute unit in sync #people think he's the -scare them straight- sensei #in reality he's the -im not mad im just dissapointed- sensei #its super effective lol #being such a positive figure in the open as an Aburame would definately make the clan look good too #because I have a suspicion that Aburame were very often taken into ANBU and ROOT and while good for Shinobi life #its not seen as the best for public relations #anyway don't mind me im just rambling

142 notes · View notes

imagine-all-the-imagines · 3 years

Text

Casey Novak x F!Reader - Reader is being “protected” by the mafia and when the SVU tries to get her to work with them, the mafia lashes out.

Warnings: Violence, Financial troubles, break ins, threats, blood.

I hope you enjoy!

That morning started like any other. You got up and started breakfast, only to be interrupted by the patter of little feet running towards you. You smiled and turned to see the smiling face of your two-year-old bounding at your legs. Crouching down, you caught the laughing child and spun her around before balancing her on your hip while you continued to scramble the eggs in the pan.

“What do you think, baby? Eggs and pancakes for breakfast?” You asked the little one in your arms.

The girl in your arms giggled again and nodded her head as you set to work getting breakfast finished. When everything was cooked, you set your daughter down in her chair and got the plates together. As you sat down by her and got ready to help her cut up her pancakes, there was a knock at the door. You kissed your daughter’s forehead and went to the door, checking the peephole before cautiously opening the door.

“Hello ma’am, my name is Olivia Benson and I’m with the Special Victims Unit. Were you aware that there’s been a series of break ins in your neighborhood?” The woman in front of you spoke with an official voice.

You were taken aback, “Break ins? Is everyone ok?”

The woman gave you a sympathetic look, “Unfortunately no, there have been a few attacks.”

Shock jolted through you. You had moved to the neighborhood for the safety that it provided. You hadn’t had the best of luck in your past, but this was supposed to be a fresh start.

“I’m sorry, I had no idea. I haven’t noticed anything unusual.” You managed to sputter out.

At that moment, your daughter let out a cry and you gave the officer a guilty look. “I’m so sorry, I have to get my daughter, you caught us in the middle of breakfast.”

Olivia gave you a nod, “That’s fine, go take care of her. But ma’am, if you think of anything, or see anything, please don’t hesitate to call,” she produced a business card and handed it to you.

You nodded and took the card, as you headed back into your house.

As you closed the door, you turned the card over in your hands before placing it on the table by the door and heading back to feed your daughter.

You had only just cut the pancake into a few more pieces when your phone pinged.

Boss: Who was that at your door?

Y/N: The cops, apparently there’s been some break ins around the neighborhood and a couple of people have been attacked. They were asking if I had seen anything.

Boss: I see. Have you seen anything?

You suddenly felt a pit in your stomach. Something didn’t feel right as you typed out your response.

Y/N: Honestly, no. I didn’t know that anything had been happening.

There was a long pause before your phone pinged again.

Boss: Good. I’m glad you haven’t had any issues.

Boss: I need you to come in for a meeting later today. 1:00, at the diner.

Y/N: I’ll see you there.

You turned back to your daughter and gave her a tight-lipped smile as you tried not to show her you were nervous. As you both finished breakfast, you got your daughter out of her chair and placed her in her playroom where she immediately went for the stuffed animals in the corner. While she created her own world with her stuffed animals, you sat in the rocking chair and tried not to think about what was to come that afternoon.

While you were trying not to think of your day, other thoughts started to intrude. Memories of how you met this man started to creep in.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

It was about three years ago; you had just been kicked out of your apartment due to not being able to pay your bills, and you were struggling. Your parents lived out of the country, and you couldn’t stay with them. Then you found out you were pregnant. That was your breaking point.

He found you when you came into a diner, looking for a cup of tea and maybe something to eat. You needed to warm up, the weather in New York could be unforgiving, and you had to keep yourself going, not just for yourself, but for the little bean growing inside you.

You had gone up to the counter and ordered, pulling out loose change and some crumpled bills to pay the waitress. You enjoyed the warmth of the diner as you waited for your food, unaware of the man in the corner booth watching you.

When your meal came out, you started eating. When you were about halfway done, you felt the presence of a someone sit next to you. You slowly looked up and saw that a man was looking down at you.

“Can I help you?” You asked as you wiped your mouth off with a napkin.

The man gave a short laugh, “Actually dear, I think it is I that can help you. You look like you’re in need of a place to stay, maybe a shower, and a few hot meals.”

You couldn’t deny that sounded nice, but you were hesitant. How could you trust this man, he could be trying to lure you away to cut you up and dump your remains in the river.

The man must have seen the hesitation in your face because he gave a boisterous laugh and smiled at you, “Trust me child, I mean you no harm, I just want to help you in these trying times.”

You rolled your eyes, “My momma always said, ‘Never trust anyone who says, “Trust me.”’ What makes you any different?”

The man looked you in the eye, suddenly very serious. “I never go back on my word. It’s very important to be a man of my word.”

You looked at him and you knew he was telling the truth. You were still hesitant, but you nodded. “I need help. Everything that could go wrong, went wrong. I lost my apartment, which led to me losing my job. I didn’t have anywhere to go, so I’ve been living out of my car. And to top it all off I’m having a kid. I’ve been lucky enough to go to a free clinic to keep myself health, but I can’t do that forever.”

You found yourself telling this man everything. You couldn’t control it, it was basically word vomit, but when you were done, you looked up at him. He was nodding slightly and giving you a sympathetic look.

You suddenly didn’t have an appetite and pushed the plate away. The man reached into his pocket and pulled out money, putting it by your plate. He gently put his arm around you and led you out of the diner and into a very nice car that was waiting at the curb.

The man’s name turned out to be David, and he explained that he was the leader of an underground organization. You later learned this was code for he the leader of the mafia in Manhattan, that fact should have scared you away, but you were being taken care of. You knew that there was illegal activity happening, but you had been promised that so long as you stayed quiet, you’d be taken care of. This meant that you had the best medical attention, you had been able to move into a house, and you were able to raise your beautiful daughter in peace.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

And now you were being called back in by The Boss.

As the meeting time drew closer, you called your daughter’s babysitter and got everything set up for her to come over to watch her while you stepped out.

The knock on your door startled you. There was still time before your meeting, so you knew it wasn’t your babysitter.

Opening your door, you saw the same detective as before, but this time she was joined by a tall, muscular man.

“Sorry ma’am, we were just in the neighborhood recanvasing, and we just wanted to see if you had remembered anything from the past few days.” The man spoke this time, and his voice was comforting, but there was a sense of urgency about it.

Dread hit you like a ton of bricks, and you shook your head quickly. “I’m sorry, I haven’t remembered anything. Now, please, I have to get ready for a meeting.”

You backed away and shut the door in their faces, turning quickly and going to your daughter. You made sure that she had everything that she would need for her time with the babysitter.

Eventually it was time to go to the diner. You kissed your daughter’s face and said your goodbyes, pausing by the door and slipping the detectives card in your pocket before you headed to your car and left for the diner.

After a short drive, you arrived at the diner and pulled into the lot. Climbing out of your car, you headed inside. The diner was eerily quiet and almost completely empty, minus a few staff and David in the corner booth with a large henchman standing beside the booth. David gestured to the other side of the booth, and you slid in. Taking your place in front of him, you looked him in the eyes and tried to not let your fear be too apparent.

David nodded at you. “I wanted to talk to you about some things that are going on around you. As you are now aware, your neighborhood has become a bit of a hotbed for criminal activity. I want you to know that you are completely safe. No harm will come to you. Some of the boys are just tying up some loose ends, but again, you have nothing to worry about. But, understandably, we’d appreciate it if you could keep it hush hush, you understand right?”

You looked at the man in front of you and gulped, slowly nodding. “I understand. But, why are you telling me this? I didn’t know anything about it.”

David grinned at you, a grin that gave you the heebie jeebies, “Think of this as a test. If you keep the secret, everything will continue to be fine. If you squeal,” he paused, “well, hopefully, you don’t have to find out what happens if you squeal.”

You felt all the color drain out of your face and you nodded again. “Of course. I can keep the secret. My daughter and I, we owe you our lives.”

David gave you a short nod, “That’s what I hoped to hear. You can go but remember what I said.”

You gave David a weak smile and all but bolted out of the booth and out to your car. Frantically, you pulled out of the parking lot and headed to one of your favorite bars, needing a drink after what you had just gone through.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

As you sat at the bar, you looked at the drink in front of you, trying to process what you had just been told. It all was just too much, and you were having trouble processing it. One of your hands rested by the glass while the other fiddled with the detective’s card in your pocket. Knowing what you should do, you found yourself pulling out the card and studying the letters and numbers intently.

Finally, you built up the courage and pulled out your phone, stepping away from the bar you typed in the phone number. After a few moments on the phone, you nodded and headed back to the bar, paying for your drink and leaving the building.

When you arrived at the Manhattan SVU precinct, your eyes immediately found Olivia and you went over to her. She ushered you into a room with another woman sitting at the table.

“Hello, Y/N, my name is Casey, Olivia has already told me a bit about what is going on, but, I’d like to go over it again with you.”

You nodded and sat at the table with Olivia and Casey. Taking a deep breath before telling them everything. By the time you finished telling them what was happening, you were in tears.

Casey reached across the table and gave your hand a squeeze. “With your help, we’re going to catch these bastards, and they’re going to go away for a long time. Olivia and I have already talked about it, and you’ll be getting police protection until this is done.”

You gave her a slight smile and squeezed her hand slightly. “Thank you, I just want this to be over with.”

The two women walked with you to the entrance of the precinct and you thanked them both again.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

The last thing you remembered after leaving the SVU was heading back to your apartment. You had been looking forward to seeing your daughter after being away from her all day. You had told the babysitter that you would be home late, but you assured her you would be able to cover her extra time. You opened the door to your house to see nothing but darkness. Calling out the babysitter’s and your daughter’s name with no answer. Grabbing your key and pulling out your phone, you started to dial Casey’s number, then it all went black.

When you awoke, you found yourself in a dark room with your hands and feet bound to a chair in the middle of a room. There was a table in front of you and a large man in an ill—fitting suit sitting across from you.

“So, Miss Y/L/N, my boss was under the impression that we had an understanding. You keep your mouth shut and we keep you and your daughter safe. Imagine how upset our boss was to find out that you were talking to that lady ADA. Tell me, what did you talk to her with?” The man in front of you let out a sickening grin.

“I promise,” you pleaded with the man, “I didn’t say anything about you, they were curious about a string of break ins. Nothing to do with your organization at all. Please, where is my daughter, she and her babysitter were gone. I need to know they’re safe, please.”

The man looked at you, unfazed, as your pleas fell on deaf ears.

“Believe me, miss. Everything will turn up the way it is supposed to be in the end. Just you wait.” The man got up from the table and walked out the door as you struggled against your bindings, pleading for your daughter and her babysitter.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

When Casey got the phone call from you, she was confused. You had just left the building and you couldn’t have made it very far, so why not just come back inside? She quickly understood why when she answered the phone. She heard you struggling in the background and immediately got Olivia.

The two women quickly rallied the troops and explained the situation. Thankfully, you had given them a list of places that David and his goons liked to do their business, so the team split up to check them all.

Casey followed Liv to her car and got in without saying a word. She needed to help find you. There was something about you that made Casey need to make sure you were ok.

As the Liv and Casey made it to the diner, Casey noticed a torn piece of fabric on a branch around the side of the building. Liv called in for backup and then followed the worn path to the back of the building where the door of a storm shelter sat, unlocked with a rock propping the door open.

Casey heard another car pull in and within moments, Elliot was there beside his partner. Olivia motioned for Casey to wait outside while they ventured into the shelter.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

You sat there in the chair, head lolling from the force of so many punches. You could feel the blood dripping from the multiple lacerations to your face. You were certain that your hand was broken, and the clothes you had been wearing were sliced and torn till there was nothing left.

You tried to tell the men that you hadn’t done anything wrong, that all you wanted was your daughter, but somehow, they knew. They had followed you to the bar and then when you went in to talk to Olivia and Casey. They told you that they had bugged your phone, so they heard everything when you had called to schedule a meeting with them.

As another painful round of punches hit your flesh, you swore that you could hear the sounds of someone entering the room before everything went dark.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

When you woke up, you were blinded by the brightness of the room that you were in. After a few moments, the sounds of the machines in the hospital became more apparent. Blinking your eyes, you looked around the room. You nearly burst into flames when you saw your precious child curled up in Casey's lap.

You cleared your throat and spoke quietly, “Sorry about her, she can nap anywhere.”

Casey looked startled and then smiled, “That’s perfectly fine, she didn’t want to leave her mother.”

You gave a small chuckle, “That sounds like my girl. Is she ok? They didn’t do anything, did they?”

Casey shook her head softly, “She’s fine, so is the babysitter. They had them locked in the utility closet upstairs.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, “And David?”

Casey gave you a bigger smile, “Locked up. He won’t be coming out for a long while. Even with all that money.”

You grinned, “Thank goodness, I’m glad I don’t have to look over my shoulder. We need to move forward instead of staying in the past.”

Casey reached over and grabbed your hand. “I think that sounds like a fantastic idea.”

And that’s how Olivia found the two of you when she came to check in on you, holding hands and whispering to each other. As Olivia slowly backed out of the room to avoid being noticed, a smile began to grow on her face. Who knows what will come of that, but Olivia sure wasn’t about to ruin a beautiful moment.

#request #casey x reader #casey novak x reader #casey novak #law and order svu imagines #svu imagine #svu #svu imagines #law and order svu #law and order svu imagine #casey novak imagine #casey novak imagines

115 notes · View notes