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ridiculousn3sswrites · 3 years

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Pressing Issues

*Dick Grayson x Reader

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

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

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

Tip Jar

**********

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

“Care to elaborate?”

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

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

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

**********

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

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

“You got a visitor.”

“God, don’t tell me…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

**********

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“As a matter of fact, yes.”

“Okay, good talk then.”

**********

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“For fuck’s sake-”

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

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

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

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

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

**********

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you want?”

“Why are you even here?��

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You annoy the hell out of me.”

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

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

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

“You’re the one who kissed me!”

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

**********

Dress Inspiration

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sleekervae · 3 years

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The Neighbour [2.1]

Masterlist

A/N: OH MY GOD I LIVE!!!! Also, spoiler ahead for The Bastards graphic novel; not so much plot-wise but there are a few lines from the book. Indented paragraph is credited to Emerson Barrett and XoBillie.

“I have loved you from the moment you first smiled at me,

Giddy, mischievous, not ever looking for trouble yet somehow

Trouble has a way of always finding you.”

Remington stared wistfully at the view from Eva’s balcony, knowing how self-conscious she was when he watched her as she read a piece. In his lap sat Pluto, satisfied to have his ears stroked while he took his afternoon nap.

He couldn’t explain it, but somehow Remington found he was always transported to a new dimension when he heard Eva’s poetry. It was so soft and delicate, he could appreciate it the same way one does the petals of the first flowers of spring. Everything about her writing was so soothing, now a familiar notion that he never wanted to let go of.

“You’ve ignited a fire in my belly with embers sparking and popping

Under the intense pressure of your dark eyes

And the bubbling pearls of your laugh.

I loved you when I first ran into your open arms and marvelled

“My God, you feel just like home”

And with a few simple touches the open sores on my skin

Recede and heal, and their pain is a faint memory in comparison

To the electricity your fingertips carry.

I loved you when we were flying over the streets,

Vibrant yellow, orange and purple coating my eyes and

Painting you into Monet’s Twilight, Venice.

You’re a renaissance masterpiece that has been imprinted

Into the soft folds of my brain...”

Eva set her book down having finished the incomplete piece, watching her boyfriend with a dazed smile on his face as the echo of her prose sunk in. She simpered to herself with giddy.

“You know, I always have mixed feelings about reading you my poetry,” she said.

“Why’s that?” Remington asked, “It’s very good,”

“I know that. And you know that,” she smirked, “And I know that you know that I’m low-key inflating your ego with this shit,”

Remington chuckled, reaching out across the small table to take her smaller hand in his, “Would it put you at ease if I told you my ego is too far gone?”

Eva rolled her eyes and snapped her notebook shut, “Maybe I should start writing poems about the things you do I find annoying?”

“You say that like it’s bad,” Remington shrugged, giddy when she shook her head in dismay at his teasing.

Pluto continued to lie motionless in Remington’s lap, assuming the sphinx position as he had his ears rubbed. However, the tabby’s eyes sprung open when a guttural vibration shook through the small wooden table, disturbing the peaceful afternoon.

Eva glanced at the familiar glare of ‘Blocked Caller ID’ appearing, refraining from showing little disdain as she declined the call. Remington however was curious; for the past few months he’d seen Eva decline calls like that over and over again. The first few times he figured it was telemarketers, or scam calls. However, he noticed how they came frequently in the weeks; more prominent on Wednesdays and Thursdays.

“Who is that?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Eva shrugged, “It’s blocked for a reason,”

“But if you blocked the caller... then you have to know who it is so you could block them,” he reasoned, “Right?”

Eva responded in silence, taking her phone and quickly tucking it beneath her thigh. Remington stared at her pointedly.

“Eva, you get these calls nearly every day,” he said, “If it’s something bad... you know you can trust me with anything,”

“I know...” Eva nodded slowly, exhaling, “It’s my mom,”

Eva had been exceptionally non-forth coming when it came to her life back in Seattle, only remembering hearing about her friends and family once or twice. He respected her privacy, though he couldn’t help but be a tad curious. She fit the overall profile as someone who was running away from her problems.

“You blocked your mom?” he asked, somewhat in disbelief though from what he understood of their relationship he shouldn’t have been surprised.

Eva nodded, “Yep. Either she can’t take a hint or she’s way more stubborn than I am,”

Remington looked across the street to his own house, the gentle breeze billowing through the sheer curtain in the living room he remembered his mom helping him and Emerson pick out.

“Why don’t you speak to her?”

“Why don’t you speak to your dad?”

“I told you already,”

Pluto then leapt off of Remington’s lap and landed on the table, crossing over to his owner and staring at her with his big, soulful eyes. Eva smiled and gently scratched his ears.

“She showed up to my graduation, which would have been fine... but she showed up with her new husband and a kid,” she admitted.

Remington raised his eyebrows, “Her own kid?”

“Yeah. She got married to her co-pilot and they have a ten-year-old son together. She abandoned our family and started a new one,” Eva shook her head, “I guess being married to a chem teacher wasn’t as exciting for her,”

“What did your dad do?” he asked.

“That’s the best part. He knew about it and chose not to tell me. I just couldn’t believe it,” she replied, “But the fact that she just... she disappeared for years and then showed up again with a new family -- at my college graduation! How could I possibly celebrate after seeing that?”

“And you haven’t spoken to her since?” he asked tentatively.

“No. The way I saw it, she walked out of my life with no qualms. So... I walked out of hers. And it doesn’t matter how much she phones me; I don’t have time for disingenuine people,”

Remington reached over to take her hand that was resting on the table, stroking gently over the bumps of her knuckles, “Did you... did you meet her son?”

It was then Eva looked truly bummed out, “I think that’s the part I regret most. I mean -- he’s a kid. It’s not his fault his mom is a flake,”

Remington nodded, “Do you still love your mom?”

“I don’t know,” Eva shrugged, “Call me a coward, but avoidance is just easier to deal with,”

“You’re not a coward,” Remington assured, “I get it. But... speaking from experience, you can only avoid your issues for so long. As hard as it may be, you might want to address these problems sooner rather than later. I promise you won’t regret it,”

“Rem --”

“She’s your mom. And obviously the fact that she’s still blowing up your phone should tell you something,”

Eva sat quietly, letting his words sink in. She knew Remington was right; knowing what she knew about him she also knew that he wasn’t just talking out of his ass. She appreciated that he understood where she was coming from, she just wished that his solution could be as easy as it sounded.

“I will call her back... eventually. My dad wants me to come home for Christmas, I guess I have to,” she chuckled sheepishly, warranting a sympathetic smile on his part, “Just... not today,”

“That’s okay,” Remington said, gently squeezing her hand, “It’s all gonna’ work out, Eva,”

“You can’t promise that,” she pointed out.

He shrugged, “Let’s not call it a promise, then. Let’s call is a whim,”

July had faded into August, as did pandemic fatigue. The streets were becoming busier, the business’ were seeing more intake in revenue, and people were slowly coming back out to try and enjoy was little of a summer was left.

And while most people were doing their best to social distance and keep safe, the cases continued to grow. Safe in the confines of the house, Eva sat at the table and read over the final print draft of the band’s graphic novel. Eva was blown away, completely immersed from the plot line to the artwork. She was supposed to be working with Emerson on his latest project, yet afforded herself a small break.

Across from her, Emerson was reading through Eva’s Tumblr blog, blown away at the amount of work she had posted since mid-June. Every prose and line was so vivid, painting a clear picture of her emotions. On the one hand, he couldn't help but be a little uncomfortable, knowing the sensual poems he was reading was about his older brother. On the other hand, everything was so poised and punctual -- he figured he may borrow some stuff to try on Shy some time.

Eva turned to a new page littered with more text than it was visuals, but on the edge of the left page was a stunning, very accurate sketch of Remington. His hair looked so different in the form of a basic sketch, yet those eyes, that face still captured all the majesty and curiosity within. She was unable to help that her fingers glossed over the lines that made up his torso with all his tattoos visible, tracing down the length of his arm to the vanity beside him and back up again. The cold paper singed her fingertips as she read the prose beside the sketch, a small smile creeping onto her lips with every word that echoed in her brain.

“...Emerson thought that if hell and heaven had a bastard son, that it would be Remington. His brother had an angelic-looking face with big almond-shaped eyes. His eyes were brown but could shift into black, and melt into the iris. It was a look that Emerson though the angel of hell would be proud of. But then, in the right light, those dark eyes changed and came to glimmer like the purest of gold - a look angels would swarm for. Apart from the eyes, his face was the feature of him that seemed to never change no matter how brutal this world was to him...”

Eva had to give credit to Emerson for his writing, capturing his brother in such a way that she herself would have. And like the flip of a switch, the memory of Remington’s eyes flashed through her mind, shining of gold and beauty the way the words had echoed to her.

In another blink his eyes turned into the eerie shadow of black, flashing a look he’d throw her way when his lust for her consumed him. In one paragraph, Remington had been portrayed as a killer from hell, offering flowers to his peers instead of knives.

Though, all romanticism was put aside as Eva read the paragraph again, noting the last line she had skimmed over quickly:

“...his face was the feature of him that seemed to never change no matter how brutal this world was to him. The rest of him was not...”

There as no denying how cruel the world had been to Remington and his brothers, though the more she pondered the more she realized she had never seen the type of dejection in his face the way Emerson had described. He always appeared -- not happy, per say -- but content with his life.

Emerson looked up from his tablet, noticing the way Eva’s eyes were glued to her own reading, her hand placed protectively over the sketch of Remington.

“You okay, Eva?” he asked.

She glanced at the youngest brother, shaken by the break in silence. But she smiled reassuringly and flipped the page, despite not having finished reading the last.

“Oh, yeah,” she nodded, “It’s absolutely beautiful. I did make note of a couple grammatical errors... I hope you don’t mind,”

“It’s fine,” he grinned, “Deadline for rewrites is on Friday,”

“If you'd like, I could go through the rest for you. I’m in between articles right now,” she said.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. Promise I won’t post spoilers for fans,”

“Might have to get you an NDA,” he giggled merrily, “I’ll send the file over. You ever work with InDesign?”

“A few times, yeah...” she trailed off, a new train of thought lingering in the back of her mind, “Emerson... can I ask you something sorta’ personal?”

Emerson raised an eyebrow, “How personal?” he asked.

She breathed out carefully, “Remington had told me about your dad --”

“What did he say?” Emerson asked quickly, his cheerful demeanour quickly souring.

“Just that he hadn’t been in the picture for a while,” she said assuringly, “Nothing else,”

Emerson began to relax a little, “Okay. What’s your question, Eva?”

“Say he out of the blue started making an effort to get back in touch with you... would you take that offer?” she asked.

“Nope,” he replied shortly, “Because if he wanted back in our lives, it would be for his own gain,”

Eva stayed silent, his quick answer all she needed to know that she shouldn’t push the envelope. Emerson saw the fall in her face, feeling a tad bad for being so short with Eva.

“Sorry...” he grimaced, “I just... I don’t like to talk about my dad,”

“I understand,” Eva nodded, “I’m sorry I brought it up,”

“... Why did you?” Emerson asked curiously.

Eva exhaled, her fingers picking at the edge of the glossy page, “Just getting room different perspectives. My mom and I don’t exactly have a Gilmore Girls kind of relationship. I’ve just been thinking ‘cause she’s been trying to get a hold of me for so long,”

“Was she nice to you? When you were younger?” he asked.

“I don’t really remember,” Eva replied truthfully, “She was -- superficial. There but not really there,”

He cocked his head, his wispy black hair falling over his eyes, “So... you’re trying to figure out if you want a relationship with your mom?”

Before she could reply, they both turned when they heard footsteps echoing in the hall towards them. Michael had appeared, panning his camera around for new footage for the band’s Youtube channel. Eva was unsure whether she pay attention or turn back to the book and pretend not to see.

“What’re you two working on?” he asked, focusing the lens on Emerson so Eva was just out of the shot. Michael respected that Eva was a touch camera shy.

“Top secret,” Emerson replied promptly, “And if we told you, we’d have to kill you,”

“I won’t unleash that wrath,” Michael chuckled, “Don’t have too much fun!”

“We’ll try,” Emerson muttered as he sauntered into the next room.

Eva closed the book and pushed it aside, sighing to herself as she pulled back her laptop and opened Emerson’s project. The youngest brother watched her unabashedly, picking off the air of uncertainty swirling around her.

“Does Remington know your mom keeps calling you?” he asked.

“He was kind of curious as to why I kept getting all these blocked calls,” she replied.

“What did he say?”

“That everything was going to be okay,” she nodded slowly, “You don’t know how many times I’ve heard that in my life and... it’s not. So, I’m super inclined to believe him,”

Emerson swallowed, “My brother has a tendency to want to take care of everybody. And it’s not a bad quality. But he also doesn’t know how he can make it better,” he said.

“It’s not up to him to make it better,” Eva declared.

“But he loves you,” Emerson stated, “And just because of that, he’ll want to help you find your way out of this. When Remington commits to someone, he tends to go one-hundred-percent all in,”

Eva simpered to herself, “I appreciate him. He’s -- definitely been a plot twist,”

“Good or bad plot twist?”

“Very good,”

Emerson smiled as she started to type on her keyboard, some of Eva’s vexations visibly released when the topic had changed to Remington. As she appreciated Remington, Emerson appreciated Eva for all that she’d done for him. He had this gut intuition, a simmering notion that Eva was going to be sticking around for a long time. And he had absolutely no problem with that.

“Can I ask you a serious question, though?” he asked.

“Of course,” Eva nodded.

“Do you like his blue hair...?” he asked with a drawling disdain.

The young brunette turned her head in the direction of the distant chatter of the boys.

“I take it by your tone you’re not a fan,” she said.

Emerson scoffed, “He’s taking me back to the Kool-Aid dye trend,”

“Oh, Emerson,”

#palaye royale #palaye royale imagine #palaye fanart #palaye positivity #Palaye Royale fic #remington leith #Remington Leith imagine #Remington Leith fic #emerson barrett #sebastian danzig #band blog #band imagines #band imagine blog #poetry #domesticity #original series #original story #original female character

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secretsniper3 · 3 years

Text

Part 3: Well Hung

My Master was right to lock my pussy behind a wall of steel, I constantly woke up to find my hands caressing the fluid that would run around the belt, my need evident and throbbing clear to me but in my belt there was nothing I could do but roll over and go back to sleep. 8am, my usual routine is stopped right out the gate by my belt, clearly meant to skip it Im greeted by my Master in the doorway, I stand completely naked save the belt locked to my hips. He steps towards me and tell me to not bother getting dressed, and puts a latex hood over my head, my hair black now (did he dye my hair overnight?) pushing through the hood to form my ponytail as he laces me into my latex face. Arms placed behind my back im cuffed in place and a posture collar locked around my neck with a leash attached. Following the leash im led into the main hall of my Masters home and I see something new, something that wasnt there last night. My Master clearly worked through the night to complete this device, largest device Iv ever seen he takes me into the middle and unleashes me. Locking a chain to my posture collar more restraints are added all over my body, my upper and lower arms get binders locked on with chains, wrists too, Waist gets 1 and thighs, shins and ankles for their own. unlocking my hands from behind my back my Master steps back, marvelling at his work.

Holding a large remote he presses a button and all the slack in my chains vanish, held tight by the chains my actions are clearly not mine to decide. Spinning a dial Im lifted into the air 3 feet, and pivot forward, my arms move behind my back and meet elbow to elbow as my knees bend back and my feet meet my hands and Im amazing this device can pull you so smoothly. Stepping towards me and raising me up to meet his gaze my Master places his hand on my cheek and with a smile moves to remove my chastity belt, with my wet sex exposed to him, fluid running faster and harder with each passing second he takes a deep breath, savouring my scent as I try meekly to move my hands a little lower to cup my pussy. My Master simply puts a finger on my labia to draw a instant reaction from my body, a gasp and a moan follow as he rubs up and down my lips carefully with a smile on his face. My focus is broken by a knock at the door, my Master going to answer I see a woman standing there talking to my Master. She is a tall woman, the high heels helping with that, a long, black latex dress drapes down her slender thighs as she gazes over at me. Ruby red lips and beautiful blue hair running freely down her back, closing the door my Master leads the woman to me and says aloud, “this is the Slave i was telling you about.” the woman's eyes widen, her red lips part and my eyes are drawn to them as she speaks, “for how long can i play?” “how long are you in town for?” my Master responds with a chuckle.

Licking her lips making them shine flawlessly as my Master takes a seat infront of me, the woman circles around, like a bird of prey having found its next meal she scans my entire body with a hunger in her eyes that sends a shiver down my spine. A touch of her finger ends the shiver before it reaches my sex, all my focus is on that 1 finger, tracing its way over my limbs, seemingly scaring my flesh with its burning hot touch Im sure to melt no matter what this woman does, eyes flying to my Master as he sits with a drink in hand with his eyes glued to mine. My pussy making its need known to all in the room as the puddle that was small moments ago grows larger by the second as the finger moves down my waist and over my smooth, firm ass and down my thigh. Clit throbbing as my pussy spasms at the sensory overload at just a mere finger I hear my Master say aloud “im keeping her in denial for now, think you can make her pussy even hotter than it already is, you be my guest.” All I hear behind me is the hum of a hungry animal as the finger loops over my thigh and scratches up the inside, drawing a line in my skin leading right to my puffy lips. Right there, just a little bit further!

Pain strikes my pussy as her hand comes down on my lips, a shriek of surprise and pain bursts from my lips as my pussy shakes in the aftermath. Finger still moving, painfully slow Im met with another wet slap to my pussy, and then just as suddenly a finger dives deep into my pussy. My gasp of pain elevates into a gasp of joy and bliss, my drooling pussy is getting action and I cant believe it! The finger withdraws with a wet pop as I hear her laughter behind me.

“Come now my dear, youd think id really let you cum when your Master wants your pussy denied of such pleasures?” thrusting a finger inside again for a moment before removing it a second time I know she is, quite literally pushing my buttons as her finger presses the only button that counts. The button that stands out, big and red and throbbing with need, a simple glancing touch is all it took to get my body right to the very tip of the edge a simple breeze would push me over, my eyes shooting into my skull as my brain tries desperately to comprehend what I just experienced. She waits till I have calmed down enough then repeats the glancing brush, sending me back to the peak. Looking ahead my Masters chair is empty, looking around for him I hear him laugh behind me as I hear him give the succubus something, what could he have given her. I am greeted with a smile on his face as he looks at me on his way back to his seat.

“Enjoy the ride, Slave.” is all Master says as my urethra is jabbed with something long and hard, my juices serving to lubricate it so it slides in easily as she proceeds to sound me. The pain quickly being overtaken by pleasure as Im fucked in a hole I never considered fucking before, but shes watching me. Pulling it out before I crest the ridge of pleasure Im left to moan and beg for release, my Master stands and grabs a blindfold and a spider gag, taking away my vision and ability to speak he takes great pleasure in my loss of senses. I dont need eyes to know hes hard, and hell probably use me sooner or later.

My clit still throbbing dangerously close to the edge the woman starts to caress it with, what is that sensation? oh god no! its a brush, she circles around my inner labia with the bristles of the thin brush and I cant stop her at all, she eases the head of the brush against my clits hood and it slips between them, rubbing my clit at its very core removing it the second before I would otherwise cum hard! This torture would carry on for some time of painfully hard denials at the last second before my Master pushes a button and flips me over in the air.

My breasts now facing the roof and the device that holds me begins to pull my neck up, rising to meet the demand my mouth presses into the woman's pussy. She is done playing with my cunt, now Im to play with hers, and she isnt forbidden to cum so within minutes of my talented tongues assault on her my face is glazed with her juices but she still holds strong. Clearly seeking more from my mouth she presses down and my tongue dives in deep, tasting the woman's pussy as her cum drools into my mouth and down my throat. Her warm folds locked around my mouth as she grinds my face into her pussy, cumming again and again.

“shes very talented with her tongue, and her pussy wont stop shaking, i can see her clit from here!” she says with orgasmic bliss in her voice

“i know how to break a slave” My Master replies, and he isnt wrong. Im broken, his plaything to do with what he wants.

The woman stops grinding into my open mouth and my face is coated in a thick layer of her juices, I start to think its over as my Master takes my mouth for his own use. Driving his hard cock down my throat my tongue naturally wraps around the shaft as I accept my Masters meat in my throat, thrust after thrust Im rewarded with a hot burst that flows quickly down my throat. Removing my blindfold Im treated to a sight I havent seen in a long time, my Masters cock inside a pussy. pumping in and out, oh how I wish it was my cunt he was plowing as he thrusts harder into the woman and her back arches in erotic bliss, my Masters hand gripping her blue hair as he continues to fuck her to orgasm. Im treated to a first class show as my Master and the woman continue thrusting into eachother, orgasm after orgasm they wont stop taunting me. The woman constantly bragging about how good it feels to cum knowing my pussy is denied and having my clit throb making it all the worse!

So there I hang, fixed in the middle of the room watching my Master and the woman fuck to orgasm over and over again, I cant even look away, their moans, their screams, flooding my ears and my pussy with need! They finally stop their exhibition match at my expense and my Master reveals my new belt, it has a long slick metal dildo where my asshole would sit, and another thinner pole for my urethra, nothing for my needy box though. I moan helplessly as they both set to lock my body back in its cage. Flipping me over and standing me upright, the woman gives me a deep kiss, tasting her own juices on my lips as her tongue fucks mine with gusto and my Master escorts her to the door. I manage to make out “we should do this again soon” as they kiss on the cheek and she leaves me to my denial with my Master.

Locking my feet in ballet heels before removing my restraints I am left to wobble on jelly legs as my arms are locked in a strict reverse prayer binder with elbows meeting in the small of my back, he says this is just beginning and at that thought my pussy clenches a little. A corset around my waist to make breathing more difficult when combined with my latex mask and posture collar, blindfolded once more Im left in the dark as my neck gets yanked and I lurch forward in my toe crushing boots. Stepping forward a few paces Im forced to my knees as Im pulled over and down, my Masters got a hard cock again and its my life's mission to sate its lust as I take it in my mouth and down my throat. My Master not even helping me as my latex coated head bobs up and down on his member and he cums down my throat. Pulling me back he takes in my appearance. “you look amazing if i do say so myself.” he says with a smile, I can hear his joy in his words as he stands me back up and turns me around and with another yank, Im walking again.

Hard to focus on where hes leading me to, he keeps rearranging things while I sleep and my inserts are only adding to my frustration. The pain in my feet far from over as the inserts inside me are fixed to the belt, every step making them sway side to side inside me, though not enough to make me cum, I cant cum from anal or he wouldn't have put 1 in my ass. Continuing to lead me into a room he fixes me in place and pushes a tube in my mouth, unscrewing my urethra and pushing a tube up into my bladder. Pressing a few buttons Im forced to walk forward as he laughs beside me. Its a treadmill! With no way to get off as Im completely secure and forced to march on in silent obedience. Unable to draw breath through the tube my nose is uncovered and fluid pours down the tube and into my mouth, Im hesitant at first but my Master commands me to drink and so I do it since it is “your lunch after all” he said as he turns and leaves me to your walk. the fluid running into my mouth periodically consists of oatmeal, vitamins and minerals and 3 types of aphrodisiacs. Every step hurts my poor enslaved feet and legs but what could I do besides walk on the path my Master has set for me?

2 hours later my breathing is ragged and hoarse as my Master returns to stop my walking, unhooking me and leading me back to the lounge he lays me down and frees my toes from their prison. I moan as the boots slide off. Removing my belt from my waist he sits me down in the bathroom and tells me to relieve myself. following his command I do as Im told and he cleans up after me, reapplying my belt with little resistance as Im exhausted now and very tired from my walk, he leads me back to my room and lays me down, releasing my arms and removing my corset and latex hood he rolls me over and with a kiss on my forehead I drop straight to sleep. He pats my ass knowing that my pussy is safe behind that wall of cold steel and goes to set up the house for the party tomorrow, knowing I will be asleep the rest of the day and through the night. My Master always knows how to put me to sleep.

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secretsniper2 · 3 years

Text

Part 3: Well Hung

Holding a large remote he presses a button and all the slack in my chains vanish, held tight by the chains my actions are clearly not mine to decide. Spinning a dial Im lifted into the air 3 feet, and pivot forward, my arms move behind my back and meet elbow to elbow as my knees bend back and my feet meet my hands and Im amazing this device can pull you so smoothly. Stepping towards me and raising me up to meet his gaze my Master places his hand on my cheek and with a smile moves to remove my chastity belt, with my wet sex exposed to him, fluid running faster and harder with each passing second he takes a deep breath, savouring my scent as I try meekly to move my hands a little lower to cup my pussy. My Master simply puts a finger on my labia to draw a instant reaction from my body, a gasp and a moan follow as he rubs up and down my lips carefully with a smile on his face. My focus is broken by a knock at the door, my Master going to answer I see a woman standing there talking to my Master. She is a tall woman, the high heels helping with that, a long, black latex dress drapes down her slender thighs as she gazes over at me. Ruby red lips and beautiful blue hair running freely down her back, closing the door my Master leads the woman to me and says aloud, “this is the Slave i was telling you about.” the womans eyes widen, her red lips part and my eyes are drawn to them as she speaks, “for how long can i play?” “how long are you in town for?” my Master responds with a chuckle.

“Enjoy the ride, Slave.” is all Master says as my urethra is jabbed with something long and hard, my juices serving to lubricate it so it slides in easily as she proceeds to sound me. The pain quickly being overtaken by pleasure as Im fucked in a hole I never considered fucking before, but shes watching me. Pulling it out before I crest the ridge of pleasure Im left to moan and beg for release, my Master stands and grabs a blindfold and a spider gag, taking away my vision and ability to speak he takes great pleasure in my loss of senses. I don't need eyes to know hes hard, and hell probably use me sooner or later.

My breasts now facing the roof and the device that holds me begins to pull my neck up, rising to meet the demand my mouth presses into the womans pussy. She is done playing with my cunt, now Im to play with hers, and she isnt forbidden to cum so within minutes of my talented tongues assault on her my face is glazed with her juices but she still holds strong. Clearly seeking more from my mouth she presses down and my tongue dives in deep, tasting the womans pussy as her cum drools into my mouth and down my throat. Her warm folds locked around my mouth as she grinds my face into her pussy, cumming again and again.

“shes very talented with her tongue, and her pussy wont stop shaking, i can see her clit from here!” she says with orgasmic bliss in her voice

“i know how to break a slave” My Master replies, and he isnt wrong. Im broken, his plaything to do with what he wants.

The woman stops grinding into my open mouth and my face is coated in a thick layer of her juices, I start to think its over as my Master takes my mouth for his own use. Driving his hard cock down my throat my tongue naturally wraps around the shaft as I accept my Masters meat in my throat, thrust after thrust Im rewarded with a hot burst that flows quickly down my throat. Removing my blindfold Im treated to a sight I haven't seen in a long time, my Masters cock inside a pussy. pumping in and out, oh how I wish it was my cunt he was plowing as he thrusts harder into the woman and her back arches in erotic bliss, my Masters hand gripping her blue hair as he continues to fuck her to orgasm. Im treated to a first class show as my Master and the woman continue thrusting into each other, orgasm after orgasm they wont stop taunting me. The woman constantly bragging about how good it feels to cum knowing my pussy is denied and having my clit throb making it all the worse!

Hard to focus on where hes leading me to, he keeps rearranging things while I sleep and my inserts are only adding to my frustration. The pain in my feet far from over as the inserts inside me are fixed to the belt, every step making them sway side to side inside me, though not enough to make me cum, I cant cum from anal or he wouldn't have put 1 in my ass. Continuing to lead me into a room he fixes me in place and pushes a tube in my mouth, unscrewing my urethra and pushing a tube up into my bladder. Pressing a few buttons Im forced to walk forward as he laughs beside me. Its a treadmill! With no way to get off as Im completely secure and forced to march on in silent obedience. Unable to draw breath through the tube my nose is uncovered and fluid pours down the tube and into my mouth, Im hesitant at first but my Master commands me to drink and so I do it since it is “your lunch after all” he said as he turns and leaves me to your walk. the fluid running into my mouth periodically consists of oatmeat, vitamins and minerals and 3 types of aphrodisiacs. Every step hurts my poor enslaved feet and legs but what could I do besides walk on the path my Master has set for me?

#Stories #Custom

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johannstutt413 · 3 years

Text

(requested by mathmaticalknight; continuing a series)

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

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

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

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

Texas rolled her eyes. “Funny.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-----------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You didn’t have to ask them twice.

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

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

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

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vegetacide · 3 years

Text

TaG: Bloodlines (Part 6)

Veg • notables: Little something for Fluffember .. works for several prompts... Brothers, warmth and together...

Any errors in this are strictly my own

Ty to @gumnut-logic and @scribbles97 for the brainstorming help and the encouragement.

Previous: Part 1 | Part 2 Bit 1 & Bit 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Rating and General warning: Mature content head. If you are not a fan of medical issues of a female nature in relation to pregnancy please proceed with caution.

Characters: Virgil, Kayo, (V/K) Scott, Alan, John, Gordon and Grandma.

Location: TaG-verse AU | Tracy Island

E N J O Y

8-8-8

Part 6 - Keluarga

The flight home was thankfully an uneventful affair.

Kayo had fallen asleep almost as soon as the jet’s door had been closed and Virgil had been by her side holding her hand the whole way back to their island.

When the island finally came into sight there was a collective sigh of relief. The stress of everything having sucked the energy right out of all of them and home meant safety, comfort and more importantly; sleep.

Tucking Kayo safely back into their marital bed saw Virgil relaxing for the first time since… well since he’d woken up that morning..God, had it only been twelve hours ago? It felt like a lifetime and the exhaustion weighed on him furiously.

Not that he would be able to get much sleep tonight.

Leaning over his sleeping wife, he adjusted the sheets and brushed her forehead with a kiss. She stirred slightly and turned into him, always one to seek his heat even on a tropical island and her eyes blinked open myopically.

“Shhh, it’s okay. We’re home. Go back to sleep.”

Kayo snuggled further under the covers and quiet ‘Love you’ drifted his way as he emptied his pockets of his ID, wallet and personal communication.

A light knock on their door, had him turning and he toed off his boots to muffle his movements before he traversed the short distance. Opening it he was only mildly surprised to find his brothers on the other side.. All of them.

Holding up a finger he glanced back into the room to make sure everything was in order and that Kayo would have everything she needed. Not that it looked like she would be rising anytime soon. The whole affair of the day had done her in.

Truthfully, he was happy she was finally getting some rest even if it was ordered and dismantling Shadow had been in his back pocket as a way to convenience her.

Surprisingly though after going through all the details with his family when they were discharged, Kayo looked like she wasn’t in the mood for any more lecturing so the Shadow card hadn’t needed to be played.

She’d barely moved since they’d left the hospital except when he’d move her. He’d woken her up long enough to pour a drink of electrolytes down her throat and a protein bar into her belly and she’d been out again barely after swallowing the lot.

An uncomfortable trip to the bathroom later which his Grandmother had seen to though he had been hovering just outside the door in case he was needed. A change of clothes and into bed she went. Out like a light again before her head even hit the pillow.

He was done in himself but his brain was running in circles which didn’t look like it would be giving up anything time soon. So the company just outside the door was a welcome distraction.

Satisfied that his wife would be alright. He set his comms to alert him if she woke up and carefully crept out the door.

“Hey Virg,” Alan whispered, stepping up to his brother and giving him a hug. “How’s Kay? She gonna be alright?”

Virgil hugged his brother back, taking the opportunity to ruffle his hair while he was at it.

Alan grumbled at the action and wiggled away. Smoothing his hair back into place as soon as he was free and Virgil couldn’t help the smile that upturned his lips at the disgruntled look his littlest brother shot him.

“Hey Space Case. She’s sleeping but Doc said she’ll be alright. She just needs to get some rest.”

“Looks like you could use some yourself.” Gordon observed and moved in for a hug as well.

“Thanks, Squid. Glad you noticed.”

“Well someone has to keep you honest and Kayo..” His eyes did a sweep of him from head to toe. “Well, she’s blinded by all that muscle."

The swat Virgil sent the aquanau's way as easily dodged as he danced out of reach.

Laughing as he used Alan as a human shield who protested loudly at being manhandled, he tossed out “All that bulk is slowing you down, you should lay off the protein shakes.”

Virgil just rolled his eyes. Trust Gordon to do whatever he could to lighten the mood with whatever tomfoolery he had at his disposal.

It was at that point that he noticed John standing in the back of the crowd of brotherly forms. “John, when did you get here?’

John just shrugged, “Not long ago. I came as soon as I could but that storm system off the coast made taking the elevator down impossible.

“It’s good to see ya in the flesh.” Virgil smiled, stepping forward enveloping the communications expert in a hug. John’s hugs were rare but the returned squeeze was given freely, a testament to the support system his brothers were offering.

“You too, brother mine.”

Scott stepped up next, though he’d been at the hospital with the couple. “Anything you need, let us know.” He offered and the round of hugging continued.

“I know and I appreciate it.”

He could always count on his family when the chips were down, there was no doubt about that.

Scott released him, one hand giving his shoulder a squeeze and tipped his head towards the door at Virgil’s back. “Doc’s made arrangements to come out in a couple weeks' time. Just had the call come through with the details. Shouldn’t be a problem getting him out here for it. Between us and Aunt Val we have plenty of pilots who can give him a lift.”

“Great, I’m sure Kay will be thrilled.” The hand on his shoulder squeezed again and Scott gave him a knowing look.

“She’s a fighter. Hates being benched just as badly if not more so than we do.”

“That’s what I’m worried about..”

“Meh don’t worry about it. With the Great Doctor Sally Tracy with her sights set on her, Kayo doesn’t stand a chance.” Gordon piped up. “Trust me on that one. She’ll be lucky if she can manage to wiggle a toe without Grandma noticing.”

“Well she had to be super vigilant with you, Gordo. We still have no clue how you managed to change the electronic audio to Spanish from the couch.”

Gordon stood up taller, primped in all his mastery of everything prankster. “Trade secret. If I tell you, I would have to kill you.”

This time there was no dodging the swats directed at his head from three older siblings though Alan yet again shrieked in protest as he was tossed about like a sac of meat.

Sally was a practical woman with simple tastes and simple pleasures. A night of bridge with the girls at the local social club, bocce ball every other Tuesday with fellow medical alumni and curling once a month with her bereavement group who had become like an extended family to her after her husband had passed.

Simple things, never extravagant.

She grew up with the mentality that to get what you wanted took hard work and determination. Blood, sweat and tears was her motto through her years of medical training and her intern placement in one of the busiest hospitals in the U.S.

She’d worked hard to get where she was today despite the trials and tribulations of being widowed, dealing with her own grief and that of her son’s and taking charge of his young brood while he wallowed in his pain.

She didn’t fault Jeff for his actions, she understood them intimately. She’d lost herself in taking care of the boys to help keep the pain at bay. Oftentimes pushing them just as hard as she did herself. In the end though despite the odds, she thought everything had turned out all right.

Was the road easy? No. Far from it. Was there things she wished she had handled differently? Of course. Her son disappearing into a bottle of despair being one of them. But the boys had been raised well by their dear mother even if only for a short time.

The eldest who remembered her memory took that care, love and devotion their mother had been known for and poured it into the younger two. Doing everything within the power of their shattered world to keep the family in one cohesive piece even when their father was absent both mentally and physically.

They’d survived and come out the other end stronger than anything she could have imagined and she wasn’t afraid to admit it and how proud she was of every single one of them.

And true form when one of the brothers stumbled the other four were right there to steady him and get him back on his feet. Providing whatever support that was needed in their own individual ways.

When others would bolt, her boys rallied. Diving in head first to shore up whoever was in need. It’s what made them great at what they did. That core strength of love and support radiated out of everything they touched and because of that they’d helped more than she could count.

Here she was, coming to check on her adoptive granddaughter and her loving boys where right were she expecting them to be. Standing as a unit outside Virgil’s door. Surrounding him and holding him up with hugs, pats on the back and caring words.

She stopped and kept back a few paces, letting them have their moment and watching all the love. They deserved this moment cause they were few and so far in between.

Rescuing the world didn’t leave much time for brotherly interaction and these precious moments needed to be cherished.

Leaning against the wall, she allowed a soft smile to grace her lips. Something in her movement must have alerted her boys though because no sooner had she settled than one by one they turned her way. Not surprised in the least to find her there.

She looked at them, taking in the details of the men they had grown into and she locked the details away for safekeeping.

Scott with the little licks of grey at his temple a sign of the stress the last years had put on them all but his eyes sporting the beginnings of laugh lines.

Virgil, his quiet nature and artist spirit. Steadfast even with his wife just feet away resting with their babe growing in her belly. As worried as he was for he felt things more deeply than all of them he put on a brave face. Not wanting youngest brothers to see him waver even though she knew he was.

His eyes spoke volumes. She could see the exhaustion and fear in them but even so he graced her with a small smile in return.;

John, her star baby. When had he come down? Shocked, she frowned slightly as she took in his uniform. He’d need to wear that for a while until he acclimated to Earth’s gravity again.. A downside to living in the stars so far away. How he managed the isolations, she had no idea. He’d grown up in a house so full of life until there hadn’t been but he’d silently held on. Striving to be the best at what he did.

Next was the vivacious Gordon. Beams of sunshine in his hair and mischief in his eyes. He’s seen and done a lot in his short life. Days so dark with despair as his broken body healed. She’s spent many an hour sitting with him in the VA hospital watching and keeping him company as his body painfully knit itself back together again after every surgery but for all of it. He never complained with the exception of food. Just grinned and bared it though she could see the cracks. He'd come through it all, scarred and sporting a motley collection of surgical steel plates and bolts and kept on smiling.

And lastly her baby boy, Alan. Her rocket man. He’d missed so much in life. A normal childhood, school, friends and typical boyhood misadventures. First date, prom, graduation but he’d still done the family proud and held his head up high. He flew the stars and was living a dream most kids his age could only dream about. A tender age but the top of his field and he got to fly a rocket ship. What kid wouldn’t love that?

Her boys. No, her men. Through diversity and trauma they all stood tall and together.

Pushing away from the wall she went to them and was lost in a sea of hugs.

8-8-8

TBC

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfict #fanfiction #fanfic #TaG Bloodlines #vegetacide #flufflember #Virgil Tracy #kayo kyrano #virgil/kayo #Virgil X Kayo #Scott Tracy #Alan Tracy #Gordon Tracy #John Tracy #Grandma Tracy

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thenootshoot · 4 years

Text

Professor (Sigma x Reader) Chapter 4

Triggers include:

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

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

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

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

Why was he so damn nice to you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

More smoke.

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

"Go away..."

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

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

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

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

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

Bzzz bzzz

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

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

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

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

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

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

What is wrong with me?

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

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

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

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

And he hung up.

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

"Why me?"

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

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

"Hello? Is everything alright?"

You hadn't realized you pressed the call option.

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

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

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

_______________

"Then stay with me."

Those words played over and over again in your mind.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why are you so nice to me?

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

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

The bell then rang.

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

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

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

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

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hjemne · 3 years

Text

i just wish there was more media about the trauma of leaving a religion. the trauma of having to relearn who you are and what you stand for and being separated from your family and community that raised you. i was so so vulnerable as a teenager, partly because i had absolutely zero references in media for what i was going through. i felt completely isolated because my church encouraged us to isolate ourselves from non-christians and yet i felt so so uncomfortable at church (partly because of harassment which i was told to pray about because ‘maybe its gods plan for you to be together’) so i had basically no one to turn to. i watched Johnny Harris’ video about leaving the mormon church recently and was in tears because it was the very first time id heard someone talk about how painful but necessary it can be to leave your religion. i just wish i’d seen that sort of thing sooner because i was left as a teenager to figure morality out for myself, with the church pushing me in one direction and tumblr and my online circles in another, and goddamn let me tell you, that fucks you up

#goddamn it felt so vindicating to talk to my therapist about growing up in the church and her telling me 'you know this is abusive #right???'#and i hadnt even realised that #id always defended my church and its leaders because i thought they genuinely wanted the best for the congregation #but no its still abusive #and FUCK i was so so paranoid that my thoughts were never private #and i never dared think certain things #because i had real paranoia and fear that i was being watched all the time #by god #and holy shit that does something to a kid #let me tell you #and i was SO vulnerabl #like it is a small miracle that i wasnt taken advantage of more #rural religious life fucked me up permanently #rambles

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r4tjam · 3 years

Note

here is my sin 😔✌

adam sat upon the flower, observing the people around him. humans were so fucking stupid, honestly. like who the fuck would think that it was a good idea to put peanut butter and jelly in a sandwich together, when honey would compliment the jelly so much better? idiots. watching as a mother slathered her child with what seemed like way too much suncream, adam could not help but ponder how barry fell for one of these disgusting creatures. and one who looks like theresa may, none the less! barry had bad taste in the bitches if he did say so himself. although that was hippocritical for the bee who was in love with the bee who was in love with a human who looked like fiona from shrek in a human au. wait no, thats unfair on fiona, shes waaaaaayy better looking than that dumpster fire, bitch ass, boris johnson looking hoe with her short ass hair and stupid name. vanessa. ugh- even saying it made adam throw up in his mouth. vanes-augh. [wait can bees even throw up? eh, probably. what would they do if they accidentally ate a bit of a mARMITE otherwise,? that shit be nasty.] cant barry just requite his love and fuck him already? like, this isnt some angsty, 270k+, friends to lovers to enemies to lovers to friends to enemies to lovers fanfiction trope. it isnt 2004 people! sighing, adam ran a hand through his //moist// fuzz and thought about just jumping off of the flower and ending it all. after all, it was a rose, his brother's girlfriends step sister's son was killed by one of those. eh, whats he got to lose? like an alpha male, he triple flipped off of the rose, his small body getting closer to the thorns as every second passed, waiting for them to penetrate him. (ha, shame itd be the roses doing that and not barry, eh? ;))) until they didnt. what the fuck? he was meant to be dead and no longer have to face his unrequited love for his best friend and the fact that his mother was making him go on a vegan diet. (apparently cannabalism 'isnt good for his mental health.' well look where my mental health has gotten me now kAREN.) adams musings were interrupted by a voice. "jesus christ adam what the hell were you thinking?"

barry? barry had saved him? oh. well of course he had, barry was so fucking perfect with his black and yellow stripes and his sexy voice. goddamit, why did he have to have a nice personality too? why couldnt he just be an asshole fuck boy? "adam, can you hear me there buddy?"

buddy? ugh. i just got r/friendzoned.

"ugh yeah barry-buddy- i can hear you"

"great. now wHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING ADAM? YOU COULDVE DIED. DIED! YOU WOULD BE DEAD AND ID NEVER BE ABLE TO TELL YOU HOW MUCH I-" barry broke down into sobs as adam patted his back gently, wondering what barry wanted to tell him.

"barry, its okay- you saved me. im here now and you can say whatever you wish."

"adam i- i- fuck."

"take your time, love. its okay"

barry looked at adam strangely as he realised what he had just said. LOVE? SHIT. WHAT THE FUCK WAS HE THINKING?

"adam i love you."

adam waited; and waited; and waited. this had to be a joke. a cruel friendzoning or a shout of no homo afterwards. but barry was silent, looking everywhere but at him.

"-and" barry continued, finally locking his eyes with his sunlight struck orbs of amber.

"i know you love me too."

adam stared at barry, transfixed on the bee in front of him, the bee that he loved. how did barry know? apart from the slip up a second ago, he had done a pretty good job at keeping his emotions hidden. he was just a dude chilling in a honey tub, five feet away from barry because he wasnt gay. then it hit him, like a truck hitting a fox.

"sonofabitch you read my dream journal."

barry looked at him sheepishly, with guilt ridden eyes.

"well you left your diary at my house. and i read those pages, you really love me baby..."

adam coughed, trying to hide a splutter at the fact that barry had just called him baby. this bee was going to be the death of him.

"ha, yes-well. i- it is true. i do love you barry."

barrys face immediately broke out into a grin as he brought adam into a tight hug, clinging onto adam as if he were going to discintegrate, like voldemort in the deathly hallows movie despite the fact that in the books he just died like a normal fucking person. thanks hollywood. anyway, adam buried his face in barrys fuzz, finally at peace.

"waIT!" he screamed suddenly, pulling away.

"what?" barry answered, looking slightly scared for his life.

"what about vanessa?"

last time hed seen barry hed been infatuated with the she-demon, wtf happened? was barry fucking with him. he didnt want that. barry should be fucking him not fucking with him. what if-

"oh her? yeah she poured milk before her cereal. crazy bitch" barry stated, wrapping his fingers in adams fuzz.

adam giggled, relieved that this wasnt just a joke.

"yeah, i always got those kinda vibes from her."

he turned to see barry smiling softly up at him.

"yeah, i should have realised sooner."

and with that he was back in barrys arms, never wanting to leave.

OMFG THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR SHARING YOUR OWN BEE MOVIE FANFIC IM-

this is legendary i’m crying laughing oh my god 😂😭😭

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katehuntington · 4 years

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Read part nine here

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currentfandomkick · 4 years

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Bio! Dad Strange Part 10, Mr. J finds Robin

Realized it might be easier to add titles so people know whats going on in these

Marinette was glad she had red hoodie, er, Jay back. He helped her escape her overprotective rouges, and aas the only one she could rant to about JL members without worrying about secret identities.

They may also be plotting to get their Hero Stalker out of the batfam—apparently Dick was a dick to Jason and chances of him changing with Tim were slim.

Speaking of, he didnt pick up lastnight and there havent been Robin sightings lately. Though, she is a but distracted trying to manage Jay’s murder rampages. Zsasz was helping with those and the Sirens pointed him to targets that deserved it, mostly traffickers and cartels.

The Council said that at this rate, he’d be her bodyguard or a new member. She didnt know what that meant for him besides staying beside her, when she worked as ‘Harley’s Niece’ (thank you puzzles for that) but otherwise she was kept away as Pixie Pop (too easy to id her) and Jill was just her father’s daughter taking to his patients and keeping certain Rogues from plotting mass murder (Uncle Jerome, Penguin, Riddler) or terrorist attacks (mostly Scarecrow but sometimes Ivy, Dent and Mr. Freeze)

But it bugged her, Robin being missing. She mentioned it to Rose, who said her flowers hadn’t seen him at all. As Tim or Robin.

She sent out a rouge and RKC search city-wide. Jay helps, as Red Hood (helmet was better but no, hood. Even though he isnt wearing one and is still in the awful outfit they met in).

Red Hood has managed to get a following on the streets and made a no kids rule for everything. All kids found were given to Uncle Oswald or his ‘son’ Marteen (late twenties) for recovery phsycially. Mentall Harley had her own picks for help on therapy, social and psychological sides.

The RKC was thriving since that system was installed.

But Robin was missing two days in. Mr. J was still back and too quiet and damnit!

Marinette skipped her treatments. Gotham is loud and she knows it but she has to do something. Jay is in his gear and she puts on her knock-Harley outfit and stocks up on knives, stungun, bolas and rubber bullet guns on her hips or legs.

She doesnt think about the fact that the red and black makes it look like her and Red Hood are trying to match with the the different red and black he’s wearing. Her makeup covers her face again—done up like a mime with a few contour tricks now.

She sneaks out and patrols on the rooftop, one of Robin’s usual routes. Maybe they just need to talk in person.

Then she catches something that sounds like her Hero Stalker when he was frustrated and tired and oh god that was screaming in there.

She moved. hit Rose’s tracker flower hard enough to leave a distress trail as she ran.

Jay ran after her, following her twists and turns.

She wished she skipped her treatments sooner. Could fly off to help but she hadnt and she cursed herself for this.

At 10 she found Mr. J torturing her friend in a warehouse.

“Stalker,” she whispered. Becuase that’s who he was first, the hero stalker that loved Batman and Robin (Robin-Jay, a small voice corrected her) for helping his city and were kind and caring and nice when his home was cold.

Robin and Mr. J didn’t hear. She knew that words were being said but she couldnt process them. Shock, Harley talked about that a lot after last summer.

A camera was recording. The sick fuck, he wanted to show this to someone.

She grabbed her bolas and threw them at Mr. J’s head.

He went down, hard. Jay handled him, but Marinette only cared about getting her friend off that table.

There was an oversized ray gun lointed at them while she fiddled witht he restraints, picking the locks.

She heard the whirling in it and kicked it in another direction.

It threw lightning. What the hell. What the hell—where was Batman. Why wasnt he keeping her friend safe. Why did he fail to keep Jay safe. Why—why does he get to put kids in danger?

Marinette felt sick. She got an exhausted Tim out and carried him.

She felt Harley run a hand through her hair as she refused to let her friend go.

She didnt know when the others got there, but they were.

Never alone, never go in alone. Always call the family and they will show. Never fight alone—the Council drilled this into her for years. Why was Hero Stalker-Robin alone? Did Batman forget how dangerous Gotham can be?

Zsasz was there with Jay, something Jay being “too nice” about needing to kill him painfully and permanently this time—“properly put him down this time.”

Her mind was a mess. She went to her Father on autopilot, carrying Tim over the rooftops. He clung to her. She’s ten and he’s twelve clinging to her as support. Where’s his team, his backup. Where’s Batman or Batgirl or Nightwing or the newb—Spoiler?

Why was Tim clinging to her and her team when his should be there. When his fights hers. Why were his enemies there and Batman—no, Bruce, his dad. Why wasn’t his Dad there for him. Why?

Father’s assisant helped fix Tim, their ability is to augment healing after Father puts them back together. Any attempt to move his mask was met by her breaking their wrist.

He had enough to worry about. No identity reveals on top of this nightmare, not on her watch.

She didn’t leave him that night. Refused to sleep too.

When he came to the next day, Jay was with a despondent Marinette.

“Going Kronos route,” Jay. Jay was tlaking about that monster. “He said I didnt have to see that.” Jayw as looking at her weird.

Marinette nodded, hoping it was the last time for real Jerimah would die. She lost track of how many times he’d been killed.

“Dad, he’s gotta be worried...” Tim, why the hell aren’t you thinking for yourself? Marinette wants to shake him, to keep him there and never let Bruce see him again.

Jay is debating it too, she can feel it. “I don’t know, he replaced me pretty quick.”

She wants to hit her brother. Becuase she knows he’s hurting but Jay can you chill for a but—he knew Hero Stalker befor ehe became Robin. He kenw what Tim’s life was like before Bruce. And Tim has been through enough, especially for now, hasn’t he?

“I, Ja—” so his first name started with a J. He was Jason Todd Wayne. Red Hoodie was Jason Todd Wayne and Robin and now James Smith. A lot of o’s until now, she noted (distract to aviod processing an overwhelming situation.)

“Its Red Hood. That kid died.”

“Hoodie...” she wanted to hug him or hit him or something. She doesn’t know. It hurts and doesnt at once.

Jay put an hand on her shoulder.

She knew he meant it. That Robin was killed by negilence from what he’d told her and she could peice together. The batfam picked Dick who left over him—a new Robin with no idea what was going on and how to Wayne and was being bullied by the rich kids and teachers in the ways that Jason couldn’t fight against. And when he finally lashed out—started being abit more violent—they put distance and then he went to find someone that might want him, his birth mother. That person sold him out to Mr. J. He died trying to protect his birth mom who wanted him dead.

She wanted cry but her eyes weren’t working. Still in shock then.

“I’m taking you back home if you want, but you have to stop being Robin like this. You can still do detective stuff but you need backup when you patrol or do a bust ir anything. You’re thirteen, not twenty.”

Tim didn’t make eyecontact. “I, he needs me.”

Marinette wanted to throttle Bruce. Badly.

“I get that.”

Harley only got better when Ivy stepped in. Jerome only recovers as long as Marinette keeps talking to him, the Sirens are slowly adopting him so she has more free time. Zsasz does what she says, and when she said no more taking hits unless they broke an RKC rule—attacking kids, abuse (any kind), murder that isn’t justifiable (see Dent for clarification), and active enablers of systematic abuse (dirty cops and their ‘albi’ partner, the false alibi givers too—Rose and Ivy’s plants were happy to testify the truth of anyone’s lcoation at any time).

Hell, if it wasnt for Frost and Ghoul and Puzzles, she doubted their fathers would even be considering backing off of crime. As it stands, Riddler is now running a youtube let’s play and working on game design as her and puzzles constant request. The other two were slowly moving off of crime and more into science again.

Her father would still be.. she didnt want to know how he’d escalate. But there were rumors of an alter around... she’d handle that tomorrow. Today was making sure Tim understood boundaries.

“But that doesnt mean you die for him. Do you hear me?”

Tim wasn’t looking at her then, looking at Jay instead.

“How are you even...”

“I dont talk about it.”

Tim nodded, slowly turning back to Marinette. “I, uh...”

Jay shook his head. “He wont get it pixie.”

“I,” Marinette sighed. Everything in her hurt and she didn’t know why. She wasnt injured. “He can try. Just, please Jay?”

Jay ruffled her hair. “Talk to him then you’re getting some z’s got it?”

Marinette nodded, feeling Jay leave. Probably to talk to Father about this. Maybe the Council.

“T—Robin.” He turned to her then. “Please, don’t die. If its life or death situation, please dont be the one to die. Don’t pull an idiot move and martyr yourself fighting a war. Focus on the causes, find the root issue and kick its butt. If anyone can, its you.”

Tim blinked slowly at her.

Marinette sighed. “Get some rest. Everyone knows if the touch your mask Jay’s got free reign.”

She went home and let Harley gove her Ivy’s knockout tea.

“Hun, how...”

“He doesn’t even realize how screwed up it is. I, he can’t becuase he came from such shit parents and...”

Harley raised an eyebrow at her word choice, and decided certain people would get a talk. Lter, when her neice didnt look like she couls blow up at any minute.

Marinette wanted to scream and kick and fight but thst won’t help her friend.

“...how bad.”

“His birth parents left him alone enough for him to stalk vilgantes and rogues and get pics. They didnt even notice.”

Harley took a deep breath. “I’m giving him a burner. If he’s in deep, he can message us. I can talk to him but we both know that not how Waynes work.”

Marinette rubbed her temples. She suspected Harley knew but... “Do they know?”

“Only me, Selina and Jerome for now. Ivy suspects. Want it to stay our secret?”

Marinette nodded.

Harley patted her head. “Get some sleep. You have a Bat to chew out tonight.”

—

Marinette walked Tim to Batman, escorted by Jerome and Harley.

Jerome was pissed, she noted.

“Batsy, care to explain why my neice and us were the ones to find your bird?”

Batman didn’t look good. His skin was tired. Hopefully from searching for his son, right?

Batman was silent.

Tim ran into his arms, crying.

Marinette could feel Jerome ready to punch Batman. She held him back.

“Give him a minute, please.”

Jerome narrowed his eyes, but nodded.

Batman idly noted the interaction. Apparently this girl... clown-mime? She had sway over Joker and Harley. And found his son.

He didnt know how to thank them, or what to do with that.

“Er, Mr. Batman?” The girl sounded different then. More than a tonal shift.

“I, you need to fix your team. This is the second time this happened to one of your sons.”

Batman tensed at that.

“It was Mr. J again. I, one of my uncles and my brother are handling him. This is the third summer he’s tried killing a kid.”

That had both looking at her. “He,” Marinette was smaller then, almost... scared.

Batman seemed to catch what she was trying to say.

“He kidnapped my girl here with hatter, killed Hatter infront kf her, and held her for a week while deciding how to kill her until she escaped and called us.”

Batman stared at Marinette then, something clicking enough to make him pale.

“He targets kids. The, the RKC are claiming jurisdiction on him and claiming his body to prevent future revivals,” Marinette got out, shaking slightly. She hated thinking about that week. It took day with the green crystals and week after to recover phsyically.

Batman didnt say anything, waiting for her to talk. Not the adults—he put together she’s incharge.

It was unnerving.

Tim was looking ar her too. They both knew she knew a lot. He wanted to see what she’d do with that knowledge.

She hated to dissapoint him, but Oswald and Marteen and Fish told her to make sure negotations go her way by any means necessary.

“I, Robin is either to be supervised or partnered during all patrols, put on a team somewhere else where he gets that support or be removed from fieldwork and he needs a new alias for his safety.”

Robin, not Tim, stiffened. “You’re not the boss of me!”

“If these conditions aren’t met, then i...”

Harley stepped forward then. “Then me or Jokes will blab about who’s under the mask. If its bad enough, then my mini-me will let out four other leaguer’s identities and their sidekicks. She’s pretty smart, even panicked when she found out i knew how much she knew.”

Marinette was paler under the makeup. She knew

This was the best plan for sucess but it made her feel sick.

Batman put Tim behind him.

“How does she—”

Marinette winced at the tone.

Batman froze at her reaction. He didnt like it when kids were scared of him.

She was shaking when she spoke. “Paterns and friends with their obsessions and me with mine and a few photoshop jokes and it just...” she trailed off, curling in in herself and eyes on the ground.

Bad move but she, she cant look at people right now. Maybe Jay but not the man who pushed her brother into a palce where he was vulenerable, not one who failed to get two of his sons away from Mr. J.

“You, you should have a meeting or something on secret identities becuase i have to keep a lot of them now. Becuase, becuase you guys are bad at them and blocking JL news did nothing to stop figuring out Arrow with his archery style and Superman’s only works with general disbelief and acting and Wonderwoman should vary how she carries herself or something and uh, yeah, Flash was more a senses thing and uh, i just...”

She was fiddling. With her ropes. When did she start doing that?

“I’ll talk to the league.” Batman was watching her carefully. Too carefully.

“Just, just think things through, okay? Tag team patrols if he stays and new costume—i made him by knowing him before... maybe a different role on the team? I, i don’t know just...”

Marientte squeezed the rope. Oh, those were tears starting up. “please keep him safe.”

She didnt see their reactions. She heard Jay coming over, in his helmet.

“Pixie, time to go.” It was Jay that lifted her up. She was lighter then? Did her worry screw with her treatment processing again? She didnt know. Or maybe she was just light to him?

She let him take her the long way, to the RKC.

She cried with Rose’s plants growing over her and Jay into him. Rose kept Ghoul from going to kill someone by getting him to help her make crepes for Marinette.

It was an absymal attempt. But it got her to laugh.

Frost gave her an ice sculpture and told them he’d be taking her to his summer classes in Central for a few.

—

The JL have a meeting. No one likes what Batman tells them.

“You’re telling us Harley Quinn—who took you down on her own twice—she has a neice that knows not only your team’s identities, but mine, Supes, Wonder Woman and Flash’s?” Arrow summized.

Batman sighed. “Yes.”

The League was silent for a moment.

Flash was the one to break it. “You wouldnt happen to have any pictures of Harley in casual clothing would you?”

Everyone turned to him, various looks of confusion, rage and disgust.

Batman put a picture of Harley with the Sirens up, one where she forgot her make-up during a ‘shopping spree’ in the Sirens early days.

“Yeah, i think she’s this girl, Jill i think, her aunt. The kid was wicked smart when i met her at the Flash muesum last year, and knew more than she should about acfive police cases. I think she’s our mystery girl, Pixie.”

“That’s what Red Hood was calling her before taking her away.”

The league burst into chaos then.

“We need to find her”

“Get the security feeds from the Flash muesum last summer.”

“Theyre deleted already.”

“Databases for american girls named variations of Jill born between XXXX and XXXX”

“Wait, alias, maybe?”

“Damnit!”

—

The Flash was patroling his city when she spotted her. Pixie. At central city university.

“Hey there kiddo.”

The girl jumped a bit, turning to see him. Earplugs. sensory issues?

“Uh, hello?” Th girl looked around, like she was expecting someone else. “Are you looking for someone?”

“Kind of. Maybe you can help?”

That got the girl’s attention, sitting up straighter and her eyes sharper. Definately the girl Batman said she was. He put his league comm on, hoping the others would hear.

“There’s this case I’m working on, but the lead scientist is stuck on. I heard from a certain reporter you’re pretty good at forensic science, think you can help with a bit of bio?”

Marinette blinked a few times, but nodded. “Kind of. Im not allowed in labs yet so i mostly just look at data and figure out what patterns fit it best. My father doesnt want me to get too involved with biology or medicine since mom has a science ban.”

Red flag. Restrictive learning is a red flag. Possible abusive or toxic home. Procede with caution.

“Well that’s good. Give me one sec, the lead on this isnt getting it done.”

flash came back in less than a second, holding a file. “Can you look this over and tell me what happened?”

“The kid was moved through multiple locations while injured. He, he couldnt fight back since there’s no defensive wounds, but restraint bruising, looks like metal since its uniform... i, mr. flash, they have a lot of injuries, but some are old and defensive so in bad fighting situations a lot too.”

Marinette handed him back the file.

“Thank you. The forensic guy is taking forever.”

That had the girl, Jill? Looking at him again, this time curious. He hoped the league turned on his camera to see her reactions. Get her into their database.

“Who is it?”

“Barry Allen.”

Marinette couldnt help it, Barry (not flash, Barry who is hiding being a meta and still speaking out) is her personal hero. Him and Harley, but still. “He’s really cool!”

Okay, she can’t hide her fangirl side.

Flash raised an eyebrow. “Not really. Always late, sloppy attire, testimonies are eh.”

Marinette was mad then—why cant Flash let his alter be amazing!

“He’s late becuase he’s known to stay up late working on other cases when he isnt paid to and doesnt have to. And appearances and organizational skills arent what matters—his expertise is and he’s one of best with getting everyone what they need in time for case-building. So what if his reports are hard to read sometimes? He explains it in personso everyone gets what happened, which is very important and a lot of people are super bad at. And—and he advocates for meta rights and for their ability and circumstances taken into consideration during sentencing—none of the others even try to remind people of that and that a lot of metas dont chose their powers and it gets overwhelming and scary and then one instictive reaction later and people get hurt when you didnt want to react at all.”

Flash felt something kick him in the chest then. The girl is meta. Ear plugs. Possibly hurt somone by accident.

“If its okay, can i ask what your ability is?”

Marinette froze. “I. If anyone finds out, I lose Maman and Papa and Father and everyone.”

Flash froze at that. “What do you mean you lose everyone.”

“I, I’m visiting family for the summer. I live in France.” She didnt want to say more than that for location. “Being meta there is bad. Automatic life sentence with no trial bad.”

Flash sat down, putting an arm around her. This, this was not what he was expecting.

“My powers get worse in the summer. If I slip here, most of my family can handle it. Nothing bad happens. If i slip at home with Maman and Papa, i... if anyone knew then i’d be taken away whether they wanted it or not.”

“Where would you end up?” He had to know how bad it was.

“Living zombie in correction centers. Then jail-jail when you’re 18 until you die... no trial. Being meta is a crime there. And, and mr. Allen doesnt think that way at all. He keep saying you need to contextualize power and abilities and intents and if you defend yourself and you’re meta you go jail...”

Flash stayed silent, letting her continue.

“Maman screamed a lot when i hit this stalker in france. He was following me and other kids from school with a bat, saying he’d teach us all lessons. We got away but he kept trying to get us. I snapped one time and he was mostly fine, nothing permanent but Maman was so angry at me for almost getting caught becuase it was on tape and i was a little kid and little kids run, they dont fight.

“My powers didnt show though—Father made a treatment to keep them from that. No one suspects stickers... but she’s still scared its enough for a rep to come and check me for meta abilities and that she’ll lose me again.

“Again?”

Marinette twisted at that. “I, uh, probably would be dead if Father didnt find a treatment for me as a baby. Its how i got my abilities, but if theyre ever neutralized completely, i’d be dead. So we have to curb them... Maman forgets i need them and almost threw out my supply once. She forgets that i’m not normal until things like a student stalker happen and i hit the guy with his bat and then she remembers and gets scared i’ll be taken and its just...”

Flash decided he was adopting her, somehow. Smart and powered and in need of help.

There would be an intervention in France soon.

“Sounds like a lot of pressure, especially for someone your age.”

Marinette didnt make eye contact. “I have to. If i dont then there’s a dot in the open and thats a possible pattern and someone might connect it to the ones i couldnt stop. And Father and me are good at connecting dots and finding possibilities.”

Flash wanted to scream at the League then, he ahd a feeling they only added to her stress.

“He, he says we’re hardwired to find patterns and possibilities. But i shouldnt catch as many as i do. My teachers keep saying i need to slow down and dial it back and stop catching on so fast and blurting things out but i just...”

Marinette was fiddling with her hair then, it was down enough to.

“Sounds like you’re a real smart kid.”

“Smart kids don’t get caught.” She needed to be smarter, untraceable.

Flash thought she meant the Justice League wasn’t smart. And if the girl was reluctant to let him bring them in just yet...

“Do you at least have someone you can talk to about this?”

“My Auntie Quinn and Rose. Rose doesnt like you though.”

“Oh? Who made her mad at us? Was is Arrow?” He already knew but he wanted to know why.

“Batman. He, uh gave her to someone who, and i quote, ‘should never be allowed to have a sentiment child that is not a plant’ when she was found by him. She’s younger than me but she looks older, and isnt allowed outside of her house.”

Flash heard a low thump from his comm. oh, Batman knew who it was alright.

“I, uh, do you need help with another case?”

Flash smiled at her. She needed a distraction from what she just said.

“Back in a flash!” Once he was back in starr labs he turned on his audio. “Who was it?”

“Poison Ivy’s daughter. Cadmus, not Ivy, created her apparently.”

Flash swore as he grabbed a differnt file. Potential speedster case he hadn’t gotten around to.

“Here ya go kiddo,” Flash grinned at her.

Marinette nodded her head and looked over the file.

“Something doesn’t add up... there!” She pointed at one of the photographs. “See?”

Flash leaned in to get a better look.

“It looks like the speedster marks but that would only work if the speedster was messing with spacetime continum! But there’s no evidence of that so Occam’s razor, its a lightning meta!”

Flash looked over the picture and it did add up. Especially the lack of certain streaking patterns.

“They were probably teleporting since theres no drag or streaks, just one epicenter,” Marinette continued.

Flash decided that the League would be visiting Paris, and he’d be personally fixing the meta policies. And that the girl, Jill, she’d be in the League. She lectured Batman and Robin on safety and seemed to be focused on helping them in their weaker spots as heroes... mainly identity maintenance. And she likes science and is good at it—perfect to add a science-centric member to the League as she grows up.

—

That’s the end of this summer. Next time we do marinette meeting Tikki and becoming Ladybug. That should take a few posts until we get back to gotham.

Let me know if you want a JL handling looking for Marinette as Princess (the kiddie kyptonian) and Jill (who Flash found and is presumed to be Harley’s neice). Im happy to if there’s interest.

Reminder, there will be many a miraculous swap and the Ladybug parts will diverge from cannon as 1) i changed a lot of characters, 2) charater dynamics are altered too and 3) i’m changing when students came in and how Adiren ended up in school.

Also, see my kwami posts for how the kwami are in this AU as they are not the same as cannon and it will be a bit obvious.

@dast218 @ilovefluffbutsmutisalsogreat @weird-pale-blonde-person @emeraldpuffguide @mystery-5-5

#maribat #maribat au #ml au #my au #bio!dad strange #bio! dad au #bio!dad au #marinette strange dupain cheng #marientte strange dupain cheng part 10 #tim survives mr j #marinette is under too much pressure #and blackmailing the justice league #marinette needs a hug #all the hugs really

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