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robinette-green · 13 days

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Late Night Day Dreams Chapter 11:

The Day After

You’re a Parts and Service Technician who’s been out for a week due to illness. An early morning phone call has you coming in at 6 am on your first day back instead of 10 pm like you had been planning on.

You just want to clock in, get set up and then seen your robot boys in the daycare but things don’t go as planned.

2,941 words

Princess Quest ending

Sun and Moon are 100% your boyfriends and it’s a secret but everyone knows

Punching my code into the keypad, I yawned, covering my mouth and squinting as my eyes watered.

6am was much, MUCH too early to be awake.

A phone call had startled me from sleep about 15 minutes ago. It was one of management’s automated voice messages, pre-recorded and riddled with breaks from a robotic AI voice.

“Hello, Faz Bear employee, NUMBER 13357. We are calling to inform you that you are needed to work MORNING SHIFT PARTS AND SERVICE TECHNICIAN. We apologize for any inconvenience and appreciate your cooperation. Please arrive on time for your SIX AM shift. Thank you and have a good day.”

I’d been out sick for a week and today was my first day back. It was just starting much, MUCH earlier than I thought it would.

Jeff must have called out. He was the normal morning tech. It was odd though because usually he’d shoot me a text to give me a heads up if he knew he wouldn’t be able to come in.

Well if he was sick he’d probably be sleeping in so I’d text him later to make sure he was alright.

The keypad beeped, light glowing green for a moment before the large metal door that split the parking garage from the lobby started to lift.

Adjusting my bag on my shoulder, I took a long sip of coffee while I waited for the door to rise enough to walk under.

Neon lights reflected off the polished floors of the lobby, large LED screens played ads of the band on the pillars and walls, and staff bots mopped the floors and did security rounds. Everything as normal at Freddy Fazbear’s Mega Pizza Plex.

Well until I made it to the turn styles and noticed that the gates for the lower gift shop and the customer service counter were both raised.

…

They should have been lowered last night and the night guard wouldn’t have needed to raise them.

…

Okay, well, whatever.

Maybe one of the animatronics opened them and forgot to close them again.

Ducking into one of the ticket booths, I booted up one of the computers and clocked in for my shift. The computer played a little fan fair with children cheering in the background as the punch went through and I rolled my eyes. I don’t know who programmed it to do that but I wanted to have a conversation with them. We were just going to talk.

Taking another sip of coffee, I adjusted my bag again and started through the lobby and up the stairs to the elevators.

The plan was to go down to parts and service first and get set up then I’d check on the main four before going to the daycare to see Sun and Moon. I needed to at least pretend to do my job before I could see my favorite boys and once we’d gotten through the hugs and catching up I’m sure they’d enjoy coming with me on my rounds of the -

…

The elevator doors had opened and I was distracted by the upper half of Monty clawing his way across the atrium floor. Not even sparing me a glance.

“… the fuck???”

It took another long moment before I could pull myself out of my surprise and shock.

“MONTY!” I shouted, trotting to catch up to the torso crawling across the floor.

“Dude! What the fuck?”

He didn’t respond, continuing on his merry way, a growl periodically coming from his voice box.

I dropped to a knee and set my coffee aside so I could rummage through my bag. Luckily, my Faz wrench, a large, orange, two-pronged tool, was near the top.

Faz wrench in hand, I ran to Monty and practically tackled him, placing a knee in his back to press him to the floor. As the bot growled and scrabbled at the floor, ripping up carpet and scooting us jerkily forward, I forced the service hatch on the upper part of his back open and slammed the prongs of the Faz wrench into the slot I’d uncovered. With a twist of the wrench, Monty slumped to the floor as he rebooted.

What the hell happened last night???

As Monty started to boot back on, I moved to sit next to him on the floor, closing his service hatch as I did.

Monty blinked a few times then groaned, clutching at his head with what was left of his hands. Now that I was really looking at him I could see that the shells of his hands were also gone.

Did someone break him for his upgrade?

Were the others okay??

“Wha?” Monty shifted to look down at himself and then at me.

“What, in the swampy bottom Faz fuck happened to my legs!?” He demanded in his gruff cajun accent.

“Language. If I knew, I’d tell you. I just got here. Walked through the doors and found you crawling your way through the plex. I was hoping you could tell me.”

“ Hypocrite. You spend too much time in that daycare” Monty grumbled.

“Is everyone else alright?”

“Again, just got here,” I repeated, ignoring his jab at my own use of cuss words, before getting to my knees and grabbing the gator under his arms.

“Come here you overgrown backpack. Let’s get moving and find out.”

With Monty’s help and a good bit of struggle, I managed to get Monty into my back and stood. Turns out that he was still extremely heavy when only part of an upper body.

“You’ll grumble but we’re going to the daycare first.”

Monty did grumble a little bit, tightening his grip on my shoulders.

“Na, I get it. Need to check on your boys.”

Lugging the large gator along, I went back to the elevator to go back to the lobby. This route would be faster than going through Kids Cove and I wouldn’t have to walk as far with a heavy passenger on my back.

“Hey kid, put me down. I’ll crawl” Monty could tell I was already flagging.

“No. This is faster and I can have Sun and Moon carry you once we find them.”

The music in the elevator cut out and the announcer told us a Faz fact that was very clearly untrue.

Bears aren't extinct yet and most certainly don't eat pizza in the wild.

Monty and I waited silently for it to finish and now that we weren’t talking I could really feel his weight pulling me down, compressing my body.

“…Though if I change my mind you’ll be the first to know.”

Monty chuckled and the elevator doors opened and we were able to continue on.

We made it to the daycare check-in before I had to set Monty down but we were close enough that it didn’t matter.

I practically fell down, getting Monty to the floor without dropping him and my body felt oddly light and floaty as I stumbled to the 'side into fun' slide that went down into the daycare proper.

“SUN!” I called down the colorful plastic tube.

I’d been out for a week, they should be anxious wrecks to see me again.

The sudden crashing of an animatronic scrambling up the slide startled me and when Sun shot out, his arms wrapping around me I fell over, his weight crushing me.

“OH DEWDROP! I’m so glad, glad, GLAD! You’re back! So many things have gone WRONG! They made us get an upgrade WITHOUT YOU! It was HORRIBLE! And, and now Moon won’t talk to me! And he’s HURT an EMPLOYEE!! And we’ve had complaints! I’m not allowed to turn the light OFF anymore!! and, and, and OH MY GOD WHAT’S HAPPENED TO MONTY!!!” Holding me tight to his chest, Sun scrambled away from the torso of the gator that was crawling towards us.

“Woah! Easy!” I took Sun’s face into my hands, trying to calm him some.

“It’s alright.”

The large sunny animatronic melted into my touch, curling further around me.

Next time I get sick I’m going to let Sun and Moon squirrel me away in their room and let them care for me like they wanted because clearly I couldn’t leave for a moment without things falling apart… literally.

Monty sighed, resting his head on his hands as he looked at us over his sunglasses.

“We don’t know what happened to 'em,” Monty grumbled.

“I woke up like this. Your little human says they found me crawling through the atrium like this and gave me a reboot.”

It took a little longer to calm Sun down and after some coaxing and more hugs, I finally got him to let me go.

We decided that the first thing we would do was get Monty down to parts and service. I didn’t know what condition the others would be in and I might need Sun and Moon to carry them. That would be easier if they weren’t also carrying the gator.

I also wanted to check on Moon. From what Sun had said I had a feeling that something had gone wrong with whatever upgrade they’d gotten and I needed to make sure Moon was okay.

Sun scooped Monty up and carried him with one arm then snagged my hand, squeezing for reassurance.

Giving him a smile, I squeezed back.

I was going to fix this.

It didn’t take long to get down to parts and service. We placed Monty on one of the work tables and let him go into rest mode then I gently talked Sun into the repair tube. He was nervously pulling at a ray, the rest pulled into his face plate with worry.

“A-are you sure this is a good idea? Y-you haven’t seen the state of our room. H-he’s been destroying staff bots! I don’t want you to get hurt! What if something’s really REALLY wrong and he- and he-!”

“It’ll be okay, Sunny bunny,” I murmured, patting Sun’s hand as he sat in the large dentist-looking chair.

“You and I both know that Moon would never do anything to hurt me. We’re going to find out what they did wrong during your upgrade and I’m going to fix it. Promise. It’ll be okay.”

The door closed, sealing us in as I sat on my rolling stool and hooked up my laptop to the port in the back of Sun’s head.

“I’ll do a check on you first, then we’ll turn out the lights,” I said, already distracted by code as I dug through Sun’s files, Sun giving me a nervous affirmative.

They’d given Sun and Moon a battery that could outlast any of the other animatronic’s batteries but when they’d done this they’d turned off Sun and Moon’s ability to enter rest mode.

I grumbled something unsavory to myself as I turned it back on. Not being able to rest for a week was probably part of the reason Sun was so high-strung right now. Not resting on top of everything else going on.

Luckily everything else seemed to be in order…

“We’re going to take a long nap once we get everything sorted. Looks like you both need a snuggle and some rest.”

Sun took one of my hands in his, tilting his head slightly so he could look up at me with his white eyes.

“Please?” He asked, his voice so small.

I leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“Absolutely.”

Now it was time to check on Moon.

Giving Sun’s hand a squeeze, I reached over and placed a finger on the light controls.

“Ready?” I asked softly and after a moment of hesitation, Sun nodded.

The lights in the repair tube went out and dimmed in the rest of Parts and Service. Sun’s body convulsed and he made a pained sound that had me lurching forward.

“SUN?!?” I called out but as soon as it had started, it stopped, Moon’s red eyes glowing in the dark.

“Are you alright!? That sounded like it hurt!” I ran my fingers along the edge of Moon’s face plate where Sun’s rays had retracted, looking to see if something was impeding the change there.

A hand grabbed my wrist and squeezed. Hard.

“Ahh,” I hissed, free hand instinctively going to Moon’s fingers to try and relieve some of the pressure as my eyes flew to Moon’s.

“Sssss-starlight?” Moon growled, voice glitching.

Suddenly, Moon jerked forward, gripping his face plate with a hand and crying out, his eyes flickering purple for a moment.

“Moon. Talk to me, buddy. What’s wrong?” I scrambled for my laptop, clicking away with my free hand through Moon’s coding, wincing as I tried to ignore the way my other wrist was being crushed.

“S-sommmmme-thing’ssss. Ii-t’sss in-n-n-n-n my head. Connn-t-trolling-” Moon managed to get out, doing his best to fight whatever was trying to rear its ugly head.

“Hold on honey, I got you,” I murmured, typing as fast as I could with one hand.

There was something in his code, probably the same thing that had been affecting Monty when I’d first found him. Moon needed a reboot, that should clear out the virus like it had with Monty.

Moon growled, the metal of his face plate creaking as his grip tightened down, the grip on my wrist just as tight.

“J-Just a little longer. Hold out for me if you can.” I managed to say through gritted teeth, trying to ignore the way my bones were creaking.

Grabbing my Faz wrench, I was just barely able to get the prongs into the slot on the back of Moon’s face plate. With a grunt, I turned the wrench and Moon suddenly went limp, eyes going dark.

I pulled my arm free from his grasp and cradled it to my chest. By some miracle, it was bruised but not broken.

Leaning closer, I tried to see what Moon’s optics were doing.

“Moon? How are you feeling sweetheart?”

Red eyes flickering back on, I had to sit back as their head did a spin and Sun’s rays joined Moon’s hat.

“Happy Birthday!” Eclipse gushed and I sighed, smiling down at the grinning robot.

If Eclipse was fronting then everything must be working smoothly. This part of the daycare attendant could only surface when Sun and Moon were working in harmony.

“Not my birthday, Eclipse. Did the reboot wipe the virus from your system?”

“Sure did! We’re in tip-top shape! And we’re able to communicate again just fine as you can see!” Eclipse gushed as he sat up, reaching out to pull me into a hug.

“Thank you, Star Shine!” He whispered into my hair. Then in a much smaller voice, he asked

“Is it… time for that cuddle?” He sounded so anxious and sad, I wanted to immediately agree but we still had work to do.

But then I would cuddle my poor boys for days and we’d have a week-long sleepover. They deserved it after what they’d been through.

After checking on Monty one more time, Sun, Moon, and I set out to find Roxy, Chica, and Freddy and check on DJ Music Man.

We found Roxy in her salon, sobbing uncontrollably as she tried to hide her face. Her eyes had been ripped from her head, wires hanging loose from the empty sockets. Her hair had been thoroughly messed up and it looked like her snout had been bent giving her a permanent snarl.

The shock from losing her eyes had forced an auto reboot, purging the virus but it had left Roxy a wreck, sobbing and raging about the boy that had taken her eyes from her.

Sun and I promised over and over that she was still the most beautiful and that I would easily be able to fix her. I even told her that we could add whatever she wanted to her shell. New hairstyle, new colors, different earrings, whatever she wanted. We’d make a spa day of it.

This seemed to calm her down some and Sun and I were able to get her to parts and service, letting her sit in a chair near Monty’s table as she whimpered softly.

So this Gregory had taken Monty’s hands and Roxy’s eyes. I had a feeling I knew what would be missing when we found Chica.

And I was right but it was worse than I’d thought.

She’d been smashed by the trash compactor but was somehow still mindlessly wandering around and shoving food into what was left of her mouth. Someone had pulled her voice box out and taken her beak with it leaving Chica with a large hole in her face. Her shell was cracked in serval places and she reeked of trash.

I ended up having to have Moon hold Chica down so I could open the service panel in her back and force a reboot with my Faz wrench.

Even once she was rebooted, Chica seemed dazed and confused. Moon was able to converse with her via sign language but, just like Monty, she had no memory of what had happened.

DJ Music Man seemed alright, all things considered. He seemed to have the robot equivalent of a headache, holding his head, lying sprawled out on his stage. DJ had a vague memory of a boy running about the arcade but couldn’t tell us more.

No matter how hard we looked, we couldn’t find any sign of Freddy. He appeared to have vanished along with the boy that had caused all this destruction.

If this is what happens when I leave for a week then I guess I can’t leave ever again.

Not that Sun or Moon would let me.

#maybe I’ll rewrite this at some point so the ending feels less rushed #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf moon #fnaf sun #dca fandom #fnaf sun and moon #sun and moon x reader #dca fanfic #fnaf security breach #fnaf fanfic #glitter rock #glitter rock writing

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tswaney17 · 14 days

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I Do Bad Things with You - Part 47

Hello my lovelies. 😍 The next part is here. Only 2 more and an epilogue to go!! 🎉

My fanfic account: @tswaney17fics

My ao3 account: tswaney17

Please let me know what you think about this update. I love getting your feedback. Constructive criticism is always welcome. 💕

Catch up here.

Credit to @featherymalignancy for Cassian’s nickname, Cash. 😘

Trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault , language, NSFW (minor descriptions)

Word Count: 6,988

Azriel reached across the center console to take his wife’s hand. At his touch, she turned her head and offered him the most brilliant smile.

They were on their way to look at the house Amren found, his stomach a tangle of knots and nerves. When they bought the house in the Summer District, it was more about convenience and nice haves. It wasn’t a house they would live in for long periods, so it didn’t matter if it lacked certain things—though there was very little he would change if he were being honest with himself.

But this house was to be their home. This would be where they lived for a good portion, if not, their entire lives. This would be where they raised their children. Unlike their vacation home, this house had some requirements. Okay, extensive requirements, but he couldn’t put a price on the happiness of his family or their safety.

“Are you nervous?” Elain asked, sweeping her thumb over the backside of his fingers.

He glanced at her before returning his eyes to the road. “A bit. I want this house to be perfect.”

She laughed a breathy sound that made him fall in love with her more and more every time he heard it. “I hate to break it to you, but I don’t think that the perfect house truly exists.”

“It can be updated to be perfect,” he told her, feeling her questioning gaze on his profile. “If we decide to buy this place, I need you to tell me about anything and everything you want to be changed or modified. I have a team on standby to make updates.”

Elain’s hand ran over her rounded belly. “I don’t think we’d even have time for that, get moved in and settled, build the nursery—”

“They could have it done in a matter of days, love.”

She looked at him then. “What if I wanted a wall taken out to open up the floor plan and an entirely new floor put in throughout the whole house?”

A grin turned up his lips. “It’ll be done within four to five days.”

He didn’t need to look at her to know her jaw was hanging open. “You have an atrocious amount of money,” she muttered.

At that, he chuckled, bringing her hand to his mouth to kiss the back of her knuckles. “We,” he corrected, “have an atrocious amount of money.” No matter how many times she’d call it his, Az would correct her immediately. Maybe one day she’d get out of that habit and remember that everything he owned, especially now that they were married, was hers too. Both mentally and legally. Frankly, Az started viewing the penthouse as her home the day she moved in with him before they were even together. But until that day, he would just continue to remind her that what was his was also hers.

Elain huffed in exasperation.

They drove out past the city limits where houses became few and far between. One of the things Azriel had requested was privacy and security. He wanted the home to not be in close range of neighbors. “Everybody is always in everybody’s business,” he had said and his wife agreed. Next was security. The home needed some defensible space and was fenced off in some manner. Security cameras could be added to monitor the yard, and a private entrance to even get onto the property was also necessary.

He pulled the car into the drive of a closed, rod iron gate, rolled down his window, and typed the code Amren had given him into the little keypad. Groaning, the metal doors slid open, allowing the car to pass through. The entire property was protected by a concrete, sound barrier, which did a lot to ease his anxiety about letting his kids run free in the yard.

“It’s beautiful,” Elain breathed, leaning forward to take in the massive trees that lined the driveway. Branches over-reached in the canopy, creating an arch-like effect leading up to the sprawling, two-story home.

She gazed at him in awe as they pulled out in front of the house, parking behind Amren’s sleek-black car. Their realtor stood at the bottom of the wrap-around porch; a small force of nature that very few barely five-foot people could obtain. Amren had a way about her that made even the scariest of men cower.

They climbed out of the car, Elain moving slower at six months pregnant, while he unclipped Kaden from his car seat, setting him on the ground and taking his small hand in his.

“Where are we, Azweel?” his son asked, looking up at the dark blue door and side windows. His big green and gold eyes glanced up at him like he was the most important thing in the world.

Azriel’s heart soared in his chest from that look alone. “We’re looking at this house to see if we want to live here.” He squeezed his small hand, hoping to send his excitement down to the little guy.

But Kaden took one look at Amren and immediately tucked himself into Az’s leg, his fingers clutching the denim of his jeans.

Chuckling at the dramatic effect Amren had on him, he lifted Kaden onto his hip, his son burying his face into his neck and wrapping his arms around him in a vice-like grip. He was much heavier now than when they first brought him home, having packed on some healthy weight. It brought him such joy to see Kaden eating like a growing child should, asking for seconds when he cleaned his plate of everything they put on it. He was turning into such a curious kid too, always questioning things. Azriel loved being his father, even if he still didn’t call him as such. However, something in his gut told him that he was close to blessing Az with a fatherly name.

Elain waddled up to his side and took his hand in hers, noting how their son was reverting to his old habits in Amren’s presence. It had been years since the two women had seen each other. Amren wasn’t always present during their get-togethers in high school and went off on some adventure after graduating. To this day, he still couldn’t tell you where she went, only that she wound up with a realtor’s license and had been owning the industry ever since.

She eyed his wife, from her make-up-free face to her rounded stomach. “Elain. Good to see you again.”

Elain smiled. “You as well.”

“Amren,” he greeted, having been ignored completely. “Pleasure as always.”

Those slit eyes finally settled on him. “Family life suits you, Azriel.”

The statement took him by surprise, but he nodded his head in thanks anyway.

“The house,” Amren waved her hand behind her, “was built in the 1950s. It’s your traditional, white-picket-fence home, perfect for growing families. It’s been with the same family since its establishment and has gone through extensive remodels in the last ten years, the most recent being just over a year ago. The inside is modernized but still has the touches of originality in a bit of the structure.” She began walking up the front porch steps, indicating that they should follow. “The security wall was completed last year, which provides ample privacy and protection, as per your request. While the gate is rod iron, it can be updated to something solid to prevent any prying eyes.”

Elain glanced at him. “I kind of liked the gate, myself. It gave it some old charm.”

“I agree,” he said, running a thumb over the back of her knuckles.

“Now,” Amren turned to unlock the front door, “inside has a grand entryway—”

“Pardon me, Amren,” Elain spoke, interrupting whatever their realtor was about to say. “I don’t mean to be rude, but do you think we could tour the house by ourselves? Kaden is a bit nervous around strangers and I’d like for him to be a part of this process.”

He saw the snipe on the tip of her tongue, but before she could voice it, he spoke her name, the warning clear in his tone.

Amren sighed. “Of course. I’ll be in the backyard when you’re ready to go over things.” She opened the door, disappearing inside.

Once they were alone again, Azriel slid Kaden back to his feet between them, each taking one of his hands. He leaned over to kiss Elain’s cheek. “Ready, wife?”

Her answering smile stopped and restarted his heart. Fuck, he loved that woman.

They entered a large open foyer. Gorgeous grey, wooden floors greeted them, extending throughout the house. The walls, white featuring wainscoting gave off that originality vibe that Amren had discussed and Az was sure the house had been built with it. Just off the entryway was the staircase, which separated the living areas with the kitchen, living room, and formal dining room on the right side of the house, and then the den, library, and game room on the left.

Elain stepped forward, taking him and Kaden with her. “It feels so open,” she murmured, looking up at the wooden banister that lined the second-floor landing and hallway.

“The half bath is under the staircase,” he indicated with a nod of his head. “The six bedrooms and three full baths are upstairs.”

They toured the first floor of the house, finding the pristine, white and blue kitchen with a full breakfast bar, and a nook for a round table that they would eat at as a family. A large fireplace dominated the living area, creating this cozy vibe that Azriel knew Elain loved. After making rounds through the other rooms it was decided that Az would take the den as his home office.

“I plan to be working more from home after I return from my paternity leave,” he had told her.

Elain couldn’t mask her surprise. “You want to remote?”

He nodded. “I know we’ve discussed extensively about getting a nanny to at least help watch the kids once we’re both fully back at work, rather than sticking them in daycare, and I think I’d be more comfortable being present even if they’re vetted to the fullest extent.”

She ran a hand over her pregnant belly. “I can’t say I’m surprised by that, truthfully. Or that I’m opposed. I’ll admit I’m a little nervous about letting someone else care for the kids, especially with the life we live.”

Az cradled her face in his palms. “Believe me when I say our children will never be left alone with somebody we did not fully trust. Any person who wants to be a part of our lives will go through various background checks, rounds of interviews, and be bound by a contract. Their safety is my utmost priority, my love.”

He meant it too. Azriel would burn the world to ashes when it came to his wife and children. He didn’t care who went down with it just as long as they were safe.

Like Elain could read his every thought, she tucked herself into his body, kissing him softly.

As they moved further along and up the stairs, Kaden began to get more comfortable, running into each of the bedrooms.

His wife smiled at their son. “Which bedroom do you want, sweetheart?”

He turned to look at them, tapping his chin in contemplation. And then promptly pointed to the double doors at the end of the hallway, proudly announcing, “That one!”

They both laughed, Elain reaching out to ruffle his unruly hair. “Sorry, sweetheart. That’s Momma and Daddy’s bedroom. What about one of these?” she asked, pointing to the other rooms that were not the master.

Little feet took off down the hallway, inspecting each of the smaller, though not small at all, bedrooms. And then he peeked out of the doorway from one of the rooms next to theirs. “Can I have this one?” His lower lip jutted out in that puppy-dog look that Azriel could not resist.

“Of course, you can, son,” he said earning a shout of glee before Kaden disappeared into the bedroom again.

Elain waddled over to the room across, glancing inside. “I think we could make this one the nursery. I was thinking it might be better to do one nursery for them both, separate cribs, of course, but then everything is centralized. I don’t want to have to go from one room to another to nurse them in the middle of the night.”

He wrapped his arms around her waist, palms spreading along the underneath side of her belly and gently lifted.

His wife moaned at the relief in her back, head falling against his shoulders. “Az.” Her breath turned heavy, the sounds she made making his cock hard in his pants. It should not turn him on, but Az knew Elain’s body ached a lot and when he did this for her, she turned into a mewling mess as if he was pleasuring her.

Pressing his lips into her neck, he began to slowly lower her pregnant stomach back down, but she gripped his arm, nails digging into the scarred flesh. “Just a few more seconds,” she whimpered, taking every ounce of relief she could get.

He kissed her sweetly, giving her what she wanted. “I got you, love,” Az whispered into the shell of her ear, delighting in the way goosebumps broke out across her soft skin.

When she finally gave him the okay, he carefully released her, his hands catching on the swells of her hips and squeezing. “I think a joint nursery is a wonderful idea. Then we can turn the next two rooms into their bedrooms once they’re toddlers and need their own space.”

She went languid in his arms, leaning heavily into his embrace. “We could put the cribs in either corner over there,” she pointed. “And then the changing table between them under the window. A rocking chair in that corner.” Elain twisted slightly, reaching out to brush her fingers along the wall. “And a dresser here.”

Azriel grazed his lips over the curve of her jaw. “And the color scheme?”

Elain was still looking at the blank wall where she indicated the dresser should go. “Actually, I was thinking perhaps Feyre could paint something for us. Maybe something forestry with cute animals peeking out behind the trees. At dusk, the sky shaded in beautiful blues, pinks, and oranges.

His smile pressed into her neck. “Like our wedding,” he said.

Her fingers ghosted over his arms, still wrapped around her. “I thought it might be a sweet testament to us in here too.”

“I love it. It’ll be perfect.” Turning her in his arms, Az brought her lips to his in a slow, sweet kiss. She melted into him, sighing into his mouth in bliss. It was tender and gentle and full of so much love, it felt as if his heart would beat its way out of his chest.

He could’ve spent the rest of the day standing there, kissing his perfect wife, but the sound of little feet followed by a “Momma!” pulled them apart, just in time to see Kaden dash into the room.

Elain tucked herself into his side, facing their son. “What is it, sweetheart?”

“Momma, there’s a pool!”

Her face morphed into astonishment. “There is? Well, let’s go see it.”

Az chuckled at his wife’s antics, taking her arm by the elbow and following their son down the hallway. “Kaden, can you swim?” he asked, genuinely curious. There hadn’t been an opportunity to determine that since his adoption.

The little guy turned on the step. “No.”

Elain glanced at him. “He’ll need to take swim lessons soon.”

But Azriel was already pulling his phone from his pocket, going to the notes section where he kept track of things and added a comment about swim school. He used it to monitor Kaden’s progress in school, already seeing a huge difference since he started class and working with his speech therapist. There were reminders for teacher conferences, and appointments, links to things he wanted to buy for his birthday that were more appropriate once they moved, and things he needed to look into.

Brown eyes peeked at his phone, the corner of her mouth lifting. “You’re an excellent father, Az,” Elain whispered, kissing his cheek once they reached the bottom of the stairs and made their way out to the backyard.

The words were still sometimes a shock to hear, both because he never thought he’d ever get to be a father, and that he’d be good at it. “Don’t get too close to the pool, Kaden,” he shouted when his son got near the edge.

Ever the good listener, he took a step back, peering closely at the turquoise waters.

“We’ll definitely need to get him into those lessons sooner rather than later,” Elain said quietly, watching how their curious son inspected the pool.

He grunted his agreement, taking in the entirety of the backyard. The back patio was covered by a structured overhang, large enough to house an entire patio set including outdoor couches and a full table. A huge yard awaited them down the single step from the patio deck. The pool was surrounded by concrete to fit multiple lounge chairs and featured a rock waterfall and diving board.

Carefully, Az guided Elain onto the grass to get a better view.

“We could put in a play structure over there,” Elain said with a point of her finger toward the small patch of grass on the other side of the pool. Her head twisted to look in the direction of the yard. “I know the kids will want to eventually put a treehouse up in that tree there. And a tire swing,” she smiled. “Oh, I think they’d love that.”

Azriel kissed the side of her head. “What else can you picture?”

Her eyes landed on the small shed. “That could be expanded a bit to become your working shed.” She looked up at him then. “I know you used to love tinkering around when you worked at the mechanic’s shop in high school. It’d be great for you.”

He huffed out a laugh. “Love, everything you just said was for either the kids or myself. What, out here, would you like for yourself?”

Elain’s head cocked to the side, her confusion shown in the furrow of her brows. “I have everything I could ever want right here.” The words were spoken so softly, that he almost missed them, but he understood her intent. Them—meaning him and the kids—were the only things that mattered to her.

And he just couldn’t accept that. “El, this is your home too. I want you to have a space just as much as the rest of us.” When he saw the rebuttal forming on her lips, he silenced her with a look, taking her hand, fingers lacing, and walked her through the yard towards the side of the house. “When we sat down together and discussed our needs and wants for the house, I was surprised that there was not something specific on the list for you. Something I truly expected to see. So, when we finished, before I sent the list to Amren, I added something for you.”

They reached a small gate, coming up to just below the chests. Az reached over to unlatch it, opening the door for her and escorting her into, well, it was a dirt patch with two raised planter boxes.

Elain gasped, hand reaching out to cover her mouth as she realized what he was showing her.

“In high school, you had always said you wanted a house with a garden that you could maintain. So, I made sure to add a gardening area to the list and brought it to the top as a requirement.”

“Az,” she breathed, looking at him with tears shining.

He guided her over to the large, concrete-built boxes. “I thought these could be used for growing vegetables, herbs, and spices,” he told her, having already imagined what she would build. “You could line the wall with roses. And perhaps a garden path in the back. There’s plenty of room for it. Even a water fountain of some sort if you’d like.” He turned to face her, cupping her cheek in his scarred palm; his thumb brushed away a stray tear. “I know we’ve got a lot going on right now, and that this may not be a project to tackle till after the twins are born, but this area will remain untouched until you decide what to do with it. As long as it’s for you. I don’t want you to try and expand the kids’ area here. They have plenty of room. This is solely for you. Whatever your heart desires, it’ll be yours, Elain.”

She was full-on sobbing now, clutching him as much as her protruding stomach would allow. “Azriel, I love it,” she cried. “I love this house. I love the property. But most of all, I love you, for even thinking about me like this. For gifting this to me.”

His grip on her face tightened. “You have given me everything, Elain. You, and Kaden, and the twins,” he laid his hand on her belly, just in time to feel one of the babies kick, “you’re my everything. And I want this to be our home where we raise our children.”

Elain was already nodding, a grin overtaking her beautiful features. “I want that too, Az.”

He smiled softly at her, bringing her mouth to his for a sweet kiss. “Then let’s go put in an offer.”

~~~~~

Two, short weeks later, they got the keys to the house. Since the day they put in an offer, everything had been a whirlwind. Amren had told them the owners already received three offers prior to their showing, so Azriel being Azriel, swooped in with one at fifty thousand more than the asking price. Elain still had whiplash with how quickly he placed it on the table, not even having determined what the other bids were for.

“My wife wants this house,” he had said to their realtor. “We’re going to get it.” And that had been the end of it.

The sale closed and they were moving in. Or had been the last few days. Since their offer was accepted, she and Azriel had been non-stop packing at the penthouse, going through things that they could get rid of, and determining what they needed to purchase.

The kitchen in the house now featured brand-new state-of-the-art appliances. They ditched the leather couch in favor of something more family-friendly and comfortable, especially with Elain now seven months pregnant. Azriel would do anything to make sure she was as comfortable as possible, which was difficult since she was a beached whale with legs.

They unpacked essential rooms first, the kitchen, Kaden’s, and then their own. While they hired an official moving company for the furniture, the unboxing was up to them.

Moving was such a chore, but moving while heavily pregnant, well, Elain was over it hence why she was “taking a break” in the grey rocking chair, per her husband’s request while he worked on putting together the few things they had purchased for the nursery.

She ran a hand over her protruding belly as she watched Azriel attempt to build the first crib. He was sitting on the floor, his tool kit spread around him, looking so out of character that she couldn’t help but giggle.

The noise had him glancing up at her. “What’s so funny?” he asked, cocking a curious brow at her.

She grinned. “You look so out of sorts right now. I’ve never seen you so disorganized.”

He huffed a laugh. “I’m pretty sure these directions are in a different language.”

“I’m sure Cassian could’ve helped you. He put together Sutton’s crib and it was fairly similar, if not the same, as these two.”

Azriel glared at her affectionately. “I don’t need Cassian’s help. I’m perfectly capable of putting together the cribs for my children.”

Elain rolled her eyes, muttering “stubborn man” under her breath.

“I heard that,” he said, not bothering to look up from the document in his hand.

“I wasn’t trying to be subtle,” she admitted, pushing herself up from the rocker. The world swayed and Elain felt her knees start to give out on her.

Azriel dropped the screwdriver from his fingers, jumped to his feet to grab her by the elbow, and drew her into the safety of his arms. A swear word passed his lips, attracting the attention of their son who had been driving his little trucks on the floor, oblivious to the world.

“El, love, are you all right?” Worried, hazel-colored eyes, flecked with strands of green and gold, peered down at her.

Azriel’s level of fussiness since she had gotten pregnant amplified ten-fold. And while it normally made her huff in annoyance—she was carrying two babies, not an invalid—this time, she was grateful for it, knowing she would’ve hit the ground if he didn’t have the reflexes he possessed. “Just got a little lightheaded is all.”

His eyes flicked over her face. “Maybe you should lie down for a bit.”

It wasn’t a question.

“I’m fine, Az,” she told him, attempting to pull herself from his embrace, but he refused to let go.

“If the doctor thought you were fine, she wouldn’t have ordered you off work and recommended bed rest already. This doesn’t look like bed rest.”

Elain sighed in frustration, knowing he would’ve used that against her. Her blood pressure had risen too high and her OBGYN was concerned about preeclampsia, which, all right, was a valid concern. But it didn’t negate how much they still had to do before the babies’ arrival. Not to mention the baby shower coming up next month.

“Azriel, there’s too much to do,” she all but whined. “There’s still nursery furniture to put together, and then determine what else I will need to purchase tomorrow at the baby store. I have two boxes of baby things that need to get unloaded in the dresser once it’s finished.” She had begun nesting over the last two weeks, buying an assortment of items for the twins already. “Kaden has a box of summer clothes that need to be put away. I’ve got two boxes in the kitchen still waiting for me. And—”

“All of which,” he interrupted, “I can take care of. The furniture shouldn’t take me too much longer, then I’ll start unboxing things while you nap.” Az brushed his thumb across her cheek. “I know you want it to be finished, love. I get that. But rushing to do it this instant isn’t going to help with your blood pressure.” He leaned in for a soft kiss, effectively melting away her desire to rebuttal. “Everything will be done before their arrival. I promise you.”

Elain knew he was right, but it was that motherly instinct growing inside of her that wanted to get things taken care of now.

Before she could voice her insistence, Azriel said, “I’m not asking you, Elain. I’m telling you.”

Her gaze narrowed at the command, hating that he knew she’d comply when he used that tone with her. She huffed out an exasperated breath. “Fine! You win. Only for an hour though.”

His grin turned infectious and it took all her willpower to resist its charm. “Of course. Only an hour,” he repeated unconvincingly as he guided her from the nursery and toward their bedroom.

“I mean it, Azriel. One hour. Singular. I want you to wake me up after.”

“Promise.” The glint in his eye told her he was lying and she muttered some curse words under her breath knowing there was no chance in hell that he’d be waking her after an hour if she was still soundly sleeping. He pulled the sheets back, tucking them over her once Elain climbed into their bed, curling up on her side. “Sleep well, my love.”

But she was already gone; the raging storm outside pulling her into a blissful slumber.

~~~~~

Azriel was finishing up getting ready for bed, his wife already lying down and waiting for him. He spent the majority of the day building the nursery and unpacking the kitchen so they could eat a proper meal. Despite how much their son loved eating pizza the last two nights, he knew his wife and the children she carried needed proper nutrition.

A smile turned up the corner of his lips at the thought of how Kaden had been so concerned over his mother earlier that day. Bless his heart. He followed them into their bedroom when Elain went to lie down for a nap, concern shining in his green and gold eyes. “Is momma sick?” he’d asked him as Azriel lifted him into his arms and carried him from the room.

“No, bud. Momma’s just tired. She’s growing your brother and sister in her tummy and it makes her sleepy.” He kissed his dark hair, dropping him off in his bedroom to play while he finished up his work.

When Az went to check on his wife later, he found their son curled up against her chest, sound asleep.

Rain crashed heavily against the windows, lights flickering in response.

“The storm is getting worse,” Elain mentioned as he entered their bedroom. Her eyes were on the balcony doors, lightning flashing across the sky. “I hope it passes by morning so I can get to the baby store. I want to finish the nursery by this weekend.”

Winter was in full effect if this storm was anything to go by. “I wish I could go with you guys tomorrow.” Azriel had a check-in with Tarquin and a planning session with his executives tomorrow that he was unfortunately unable to get out of. The Moonbeam twins would be escorting Elain and Kaden to Hewn City so she could purchase the last of the nursery items, and he hated the fact that he could not be there with them, especially with them going into Hewn City territory.

She turned to look at him, hearing the unspoken thoughts running through his head. He was worried, of course, he was. His wife was seven months pregnant for fucks sake and Kaden was going with her without his protection. It put him on edge. She reached out a hand for him. “C’mere, my love.”

He went willingly, crawling over her body and kissing her first on her belly, and then again on her lips. Az had taken to kissing all his babies goodnight recently, including his wife. “You need to be safe tomorrow. Anything you feel is off, come straight home.”

Elain’s lips quirked up. “You’re so fussy,” she teased, kissing the corner of his mouth. “We’ll be fine. Fen and Con are both nearly as protective as you over me and Kaden. Nothing’s going to happen, but I promise you we will come home if anything feels off.”

“Nobody is as protective of you two as me, but that does make me feel a smidge better,” he said, making her chuckle. Az attached his mouth to the junction where her neck and shoulder met, letting his tongue swipe over her sensitive skin. As predicted, her body shuddered, a delicate moan slipping past her sweet lips. “Fuck, you sound so pretty when you make little noises like that,” he groaned, nipping at her throat.

Her fingers traced up the swirling ink of his biceps.

They had only been able to christen the new house a handful of times since they moved in, Elain being far too tired in the evenings for anything other than sleeping. But it seemed that her nap earlier that day abated her need for sleep that evening as she arched her body into his.

“Azriel,” she sighed when he licked the sensitive spot behind her ear. She slid her hands into his hair, mussing the dark locks at his nape.

Slipping his shirt from her body—they’d become a staple for her to wear at night this late in her pregnancy—Az used his mouth to map her pale flesh, dutifully avoiding her breasts and nipples knowing they were extra sensitive now and typically caused more pain than pleasure.

He kissed his way down the valley of her breasts, over the swell of her stomach, growing with life, until he reached just above her slit, groomed to her liking with his help. And just when he was about to taste the sweet wetness between her thighs, they heard it.

The sound of Kaden’s door opening and his little feet padding quickly to their bedroom door.

Azriel glanced up at his wife with his mouth hovering over her just as their doorhandle jiggled—thank god he locked the door before crawling into bed.

“Daddy!” Kaden called out.

Az was pretty sure his heart stopped at the name. Kaden just called him Daddy.

Elain was staring at him with tears glistening in her eyes.

Stunned, it took Kaden’s next cry to snap him into action. Because that was a cry of distress. “Daddy!”

Shoving himself off the bed, Azriel grabbed Elain’s t-shirt and tossed it to her. “I’m coming, buddy,” he called out.

“Hurry!”

Panic flooded his blood, filling him with an overwhelming need to remove whatever had terrified his son. He quickly made his way to the bedroom door in his boxers, unlocking and throwing it open.

His son crashed into his legs, face wet with tears. “He tried to grab me!” he burst out, clinging to Az’s knee.

He wasted no time in sweeping him into his arms, shutting the door, and relocking it. “You’re okay, Kaden,” he cooed, patting his back. “You’re safe.” He met his wife’s fearful gaze, carrying their son onto their bed. “What happened Bubba?” he asked, voice soft.

Kaden sniffled, burying his face into the crook of Azriel’s neck, his tears dampening his bare skin. “He tried to grab me,” his son repeated, terrified.

“Who, Kaden?” Elain asked, reaching out to rub his back.

He shook his head. “I don’t know. I saw his hand.” His head tipped back and he peeked up at his father’s face. “Don’t let him take me,” he cried, lower lip wobbling.

Lightning cracked outside illuminating their bedroom and causing Kaden to whimper in fear, tucking himself further into Azriel’s embrace. He hugged his son, comforting him and whispering words of encouragement into his hair. “Nobody is going to take you away from us, buddy. I promise you, you’re safe here.”

Azriel had no desire to step away right then, knowing that his son needed him and his presence, but he needed to confirm there wasn’t anyone in the house. He looked at Elain who nodded in understanding and reached out to take their son from his arms.

“Come here, sweetheart.”

Kaden went willingly into her embrace, Elain shuffling him in her lap so his head was faced away from Azriel while he opened his nightstand drawer, tapped his four-digit code into the small gun safe he kept there, and pulled out his nine-mil, clipping in the magazine.

“I’m going to sweep the house,” he said, grabbing the bedroom key and making his way to the door, gripping the handle. “Stay here.”

Azriel started in Kaden’s room, checking every nook and cranny for anything amiss, but found nothing. The window was shut tight and locked, the closet empty of everything but clothing and boxes, nothing under his bed but a stray toy or two. Then he moved to the nursery, followed by the other bedrooms that were currently being used as storage and the bathrooms.

He made his way downstairs, sweeping the entirety of it. Az knew nobody had slipped out through a door or window, all of them were set to chime if opened and he would’ve heard that. Confused, he slipped the gun into the back of his boxers, returning to his son’s bedroom to determine what, exactly, had set him off. He stood for a few minutes, listening to the rain crash outside, and just as he was about to leave, he heard it.

The branch from the tree outside smacked into the window from a gust of wind, scraping against the glass. Lightning flashed, lighting up the room and he caught the shadow of the branch on the wall above Kaden’s bed. It looked like a disfigured hand reaching out. Realization dawned on him at what had terrified his son.

Slipping back into their bedroom, he found Elain still cradling Kaden to her chest.

She looked up at him with worried eyes and he shook her head, easing her concerns. Casually, she placed her hand on the side of Kaden’s face, covering it while Az removed the clip from his gun and replaced it in the safe.

They both agreed that if he kept a gun in the house, which, they needed given the threats they still faced, it had to be unloaded and locked away somewhere where the kids would never be able to get into. Azriel had picked a random set of numbers as the combination and verbally spoke them to Elain should she ever need to open the box. They had gone back and forth on the location of the small safe, but ended up deciding closer access to the bed was likely more ideal in an urgent situation.

“I promise you that he will never see it unless we’re under some sort of attack and I have to defend this family.” He cupped her face between his palms, letting his touch soothe her anxieties. “But I will do everything in my power to make sure that Kaden, and the rest of our children, will not be exposed to the violence my life brings. That is my promise to you.”

“There’s nobody in the house,” he said, closing the drawer of his night table. Padding his way around the bed, Az lifted Kaden into his arms, kissing his temple. “I want to show you something,” he murmured, carrying his son out of the room and back to his.

Kaden’s hold tightened around his neck and shoulders.

“You’re safe, son,” he breathed, tucking him closer to his chest as he made his way to the window. “Do you see the tree outside?” he asked, tipping his head down to confirm whether his son was listening.

Those green and gold eyes, still wet with tears, were looking at the swaying tree just outside the glass panes.

“The branch scratched the glass. And then when the lightning flashed, it illuminated the shadow of the tree branch to look like a hand reaching out for you.” He ran a hand down his back. “Nobody was trying to get you, bud. It was just the storm playing tricks.”

Not a second after he finished speaking, lightning flashed and a gust of wind sent the branch raking down the glass.

Kaden shrieked in fright, throwing his arms around Az’s neck and burying his face into his warm chest.

He carried him back to the master bedroom, repeating that he was safe and that nobody was going to hurt him.

Elain was leaning up against the headboard when they returned, a knowing smirk on her face letting him know she knew their son was going to be coming back to sleep with them. “What was it?” she asked as he settled onto the bed, sliding Kaden down his chest to lay more comfortably on top of him.

“The branch outside his window. I’ll call somebody to come remove it in the morning.” Grabbing his phone, he armed the motion sensors in the house, just in case. They typically kept them off, worried Kaden would creep downstairs in the middle of the night for some unknown reason and set it off. But with him in their room for the night, he decided it would be okay to leave them on.

Dropping his device on the table beside the bed, Azriel flicked the light off, tugging a pliant Elain closer to his side. “I’m sorry about earlier,” he whispered into the darkness.

Even without being able to see her, Az could feel her gaze on him, assessing his words. “Why are you sorry?”

He sighed. “Because I wanted to make you feel good and I didn’t get to finish. I know we haven’t really gotten to take advantage since the move and I just wanted to show you my appreciation.”

She huffed a laugh, feeling her reach out to thread her fingers into their son’s hair—the boy already sleeping peacefully to his father’s beating heart. “Az, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but our life will be nothing but constant interruptions from now on. Please don’t apologize for having to step away and be a father. Because that’s what you were doing tonight. Being a father and taking care of our child who needed you. I will never begrudge an interruption like that.”

Azriel snagged her fingers, bringing her hand to his mouth to kiss her knuckles. “It’ll take some getting used to not being able to enjoy ourselves like that whenever and wherever we want.”

Her palm spread across his cheek. “We’ll figure it out like everything else.” Elain let her thumb swoop across his stubbled skin. “I love you, Azriel.”

Wrapping an arm around Kaden and cradling the back of his head, Az leaned over to kiss her softly, tucking her against his side so that her swollen belly rested on him. “I love you more, El.”

Az fell asleep that night with his family wrapped around him and dreamt of the future he couldn’t wait to see come to life.

~~~~~

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drabblesandimagines · 1 year

Text

Kitty (part 12)

Parts 1-11 here. Rei x (afab) reader

Kyu remains silent for the rest of the drive. Rei’s words circle around your head.

“You need to go, Kitty. It’ll be all right.”

Kazuki had said that too – why did you need to go? It didn’t make any sense. They’d said you could stay there as long as you wanted, what’s theirs is yours, you’re part of the family… so why had they changed their mind now? Had something happened? Had Misaki said something about you being around Miri? Had you done something wrong? But that didn’t make sense either, Rei had held you in his arms all night. Surely if you’d done something wrong or upset him, he wouldn’t have done that, he would’ve been mad or distant or angry… It doesn’t make sense. You felt settled and safe for the first time in years and now the carpet has been pulled out from under you. Stupid, stupid girl. His voice had been getting quieter in your head, but now it’s back with a vengeance.

You’re not sure how much time has passed or even what city you’re in now when Kyu begins to slow the car to a stop in a suburban street.

“We’re here.” He pulls on the handbrake, switches the engine off and undoes his seatbelt. He looks over his shoulder. “Before we go in, I’ve told them I’m a social worker who’s been assigned to you after you were rescued.”

You nod, though you know it’s not a question as such but a statement. Kyu exits the car. He goes to the trunk first, retrieving the duffel bag, before he opens your door and steps back, waiting.

You undo your own seatbelt before stepping out of the car – there isn’t much alternative. You feel horrendously sick. You’re surprised it didn’t hit you earlier. Breakfast had been Kazuki’s rich French toast – laden with syrup – and now it’s all swirling around your stomach as you take in your surroundings.

It’s a large, unassuming building peeking out over a large concrete wall. There’s an iron bar gate with a buzzer besides it and Kyu presses it confidently. You assume this must be the entrance.

“Hello?” The voice is robotic through the speaker.

“It’s Kyu Kugi. I have an appointment.”

“Can you present your identification to the camera, sir?”

Kyu digs in his pocket and pulls out a card – a fake ID, you guess - holding it towards the lens as requested.

There’s a pause for a moment. “Thank you. Come in.” The gate pops open as a loud buzz emits. You wonder if this is the last time you’ll be this side of it. The other side of the gate is completely different though, opening out into a garden, which you imagine would be pretty in the spring sunshine but is a little gloomy in the grey of December. There’s a water fountain in the middle of it, trickling gently. Opposite the fountain is a few stairs leading up to a double set of metal doors, where a kind-faced middle-aged woman with a blonde bob is standing. She’s dressed in a soft pink cardigan over a white shirt and slacks, her hands clasped in front of her and a warm smile on her face.

“Kyu, I presume.” She nods in greeting, before her eyes turn to you. “And you must be Kitty. I’m Hikoti. It’s lovely to meet you both.”

You stare at the woman for a moment before dropping your eyes to the stairs. Your stomach is still swirling violently and this is all becoming far too real.

“Are you feeling all right, Kitty?”

“It’s been a stressful morning,” Kyo replies on your behalf.

“That’s understandable. Come inside, I’ll get you a glass of water and we can talk, okay?”

She leads the two of you up the stairs into what is a small reception area. Another woman is sat behind the desk, typing away. There’s another set of heavy double doors, this time with a keypad and card scanner to the side. Hikoti presses her staff card against it and the door gives a thud as the lock releases.

“I know it might seem intimidating with all these locks, Kitty, but it’s to keep unwanted people out, not to keep you in.” Hikoti holds the door open and waves you and Kyu through. You want to believe her, but you can’t quite bring yourself to – why else would she bring attention to it? The woman leads you through to what you assume is her office – a spacious room with a desk, a sofa and a coffee table with a couple of low chairs.

“Take a seat, please, get comfortable, and I’ll go grab some water.” You sit on the sofa. It’s firmer than the one at ho… You stop the thought, you don’t want to cry in front of the two of them. Kyu takes the other end of the sofa, keeping distance between the two of you.

Hikoti returns a few moments later, holding a tray with three glasses and a pitcher filled with ice-cold water. She pours the three of you each a glass before she sits down opposite you in one of the chairs, hands once again clasped in her lap. You nod, slightly, taking a sip of the water and hoping it’ll settle your stomach before carefully placing it back down.

“I know it’s a little overwhelming here, Kitty. So I’ll introduce myself again, okay? I’m Hikoti and I run this centre. It’s my job to make sure everyone remains safe and well, and help you adjust after what’s happened to you.” She speaks softly, slowly, as if to a child. You continue staring at the glass of water.

“Kitty?” Kyu asks. You realise they want acknowledgement, so you nod, meeting the woman’s eyes briefly. “Sorry, she’s usually a little more talkative. As I said, it was a stressful morning…”

“That’s okay. Kitty, I know it must be a bit scary to be here but I promise you, this is a safe place where no-one can hurt you anymore.” She leaves a pause in case you speak, but you don’t, opting to dig your nails into your palms instead. You know she sees.

“Kyu’s shared your history with us. I understand this is be a big adjustment after all those years, but we’re going to try our best to make it as easy as possible.”

You wonder how much he told them. He could have only got his information from Kazuki, surely. Was it all in preparation for this?

“I’ll tell you a little bit more about our centre. Don’t worry if you forget – I know it’s a lot to take in. I’ve got a welcome pack you can keep in your room to refer to, or you can speak to any of the staff and they can explain it all. Our aim is to help women escape harmful situations, rebuild their confidence and abilities, and readapt to the world. We have an in-house medical team, consisting of doctors, nurses and therapists who you’ll see regularly, if need be. We’ll do workshops and life-building skills. You’ll have free time too, of course, and you can leave the premises to do whatever you wish. For now, though, whilst you settle in and become comfortable, we’d like you to stay within the grounds. I’m sure it won’t be for long and it is to keep you safe.”

You’re very aware that ‘we’d like you to stay within the ground’ means you aren’t leaving the grounds.

“Sounds good.” Kyu responds for you.

“We cater for ten women here, so you’ll have some company. We can introduce you to them later on, though. I know this must be overwhelming enough already. Is there anything you’d like to ask me, Kitty?”

You look up at her then and she smiles, kindly, genuinely. But you shake your head. You can’t say what you want to – there’s no point – so what’s the use of saying anything at all?

“Well, my door is always open if anything comes to mind later. How about we show you to you to your room? I’m afraid you missed lunch, but we kept aside some sandwiches so I can send those up for you two whilst you get settled.”

“That’s very kind of you. I’m afraid I can’t stay for long, but I’m sure Kitty would appreciate that.” Kyu replies. You dutifully get to your feet as they do and follow the woman along the corridor, past a few doors where you can hear some muted chat behind. She leads you up a set of stairs to a long corridor – ten identical doors, five a side, and whiteboards on them, each displaying a woman’s name. Halfway down she stops at a door – ‘Kitty’ is written in black marker pen in a cursive hand.

“This’ll be your room whilst you’re with us, okay? I’ll let you and Kyu have a look around and I’ll go see about that lunch.” Hikoti opens the door for the two of you and steps back, gesturing you in. You step inside as Kyu thanks the woman, and swiftly steps in behind you, shutting the door as you hear her footsteps retreat down the hall.

“Seems all right here, huh?” He places the duffel bag down on the floor, looking around the room. There’s a single bed, a desk, a chair and a dresser. There’s another door within the room that’s open, leading to an en-suite. It feels sterile to you after being in Rei’s room. “It’ll be good for you in the long-run, Kitty.”

There it is again – why does everyone else get to decide what’s good for you? You were doing well, you were happy, why is everyone suddenly acting as if you weren’t?

You sit down heavily on the bed and stare at your feet. Kyu sighs before he crouches down in front of you, trying to get in your line of sight.

“Okay, I admit Kazuki could’ve handled it better, but surely you’ve got to understand that you don’t belong in their world, especially after what you’ve already been through. I don’t know what they were thinking. And I’m taking some of the blame here because I let it go on too long, but I’m making it right now, okay? For you and Miri.”

The mention of the little girl breaks your silence. “M-Miri?”

Kyu nods. “She’s going to go and live with her mother – where she should be.”

“B-b-but…”

“I promise you – give it time,” he cuts across your protests, “you’ll realize this is where you should be and you’ll have forgotten all about them.”

Forgotten? You want to say that it’s impossible, that you could never forget any of them, how could he think that? How could you forget Kazuki’s joy when he was cooking, Miri’s squeal when she was excited, Rei’s shy smiles, the way you felt when you held hands, or how safe you felt within his arms…? But, the bitter thought wins over, you’d forgotten your own name – stupid girl - so why not them too?

There’s a knock on the door. Kyu answers and it’s Hikoti, bringing in the promised sandwiches – a plate covered in clingfilm - along with the welcome pack and a bag of what she calls ‘essentials’. She places it all down on the desk, says you’re welcome to wander around the centre, of course you are, but she understands if you just wanted to take the day to settle. You don’t want to settle, you want to go home.

She asks Kyu to pop by her office before he leaves and then she’s gone again, leaving the two of you alone in the room.

“T-take me h-h-home.” You’re trying not to cry. “Please.”

“Kitty,” he crouches down in front of you again. “I can’t do that. Besides, that wasn’t your home.”

“I d-don’t un-understand. D-d-did I do s-something w-wrong?” Your breath catches in your throat again.

“No, but Kazuki and Rei did. I don’t disagree with them taking you out of Aktomi’s place, but they should’ve taken you to a hospital or a place like this straightaway. I don’t know how they’ve looked after Miri for so long, but you need proper help.”

“They w-were help-helping m-me.” The tears are burning your eyes now, but you’re trying your best to hold them in.

“I know you think that but, Kitty, come on,” he lowers his voice now, “they’re assassins, a part of the underworld that abducted you. What help could they really be? Surely you want away from all that.”

“I w-w-was away f-from it.” You stress back.

“No, you weren’t.” He sighs. “Look, they didn’t tell you this because they didn’t want to scare you, but maybe this is the only way. Being associated with them makes you vulnerable – it put a target on yours and Miri’s backs. Rei’s father was asking questions and, trust me, you don’t want him being interested in you. This keeps both you and them safe, understand?”

“Rei’s f-father?”

“He expects Rei to inherit the Organization and he has no qualms in eliminating anything he deems as a distraction. I’ve seen how you and Rei are around each other, and I’ve also seen what happens to those who don’t uphold what the Boss deems the values of the Organization. As his son and heir, Rei’s held to an even higher standard. Trust me – this is the only way.”

You’re silent at that – would the Boss really hurt Rei over you? You’d seen the scars on his chest, you thought they’d been from some of his jobs, but was it possible some were from his own father…?

Kyu continues. “You’ll also understand why I think it’s best if you don’t talk about Rei, Kazuki or Miri anymore, okay?”

You swallow – hard. “O-okay.”

“Good. The refuge is going to let me know how you’re getting on, but I don’t intend to come back – a clean slate for everyone, huh?” He gets to his feet, slips his hands in his pockets. “I do wish you all the best, though, Kitty.”

He closes the door behind you, but you keep staring at the floor where he used to be.

Hours pass – the conversation with Kyu swirling around your head. Is it true? Is that really why they sent you away? Was whatever this connection you had with Rei really putting lives in danger? Hikoti visits again at 6pm, takes you down for dinner, introduces you to the other women there but their names all go over your head. You pick at some food, your appetite still eluding you. The woman besides you says something about how she was also too nervous to eat when she arrived and that you’ll get there. You nod, politely.

In the bag Hikoti brought earlier, you find brand-new toiletries and some sets of clothes to wear. A lot of other women came here in different circumstances than you, with nothing at all. The black duffel bag still sits in the corner, untouched since Kyu placed it down hours ago. You assume it’s full of the clothes they’d bought you and you don’t know whether you can face wearing or seeing any of them again – won’t it hurt too much?

The tears burn at your eyes again. You push the duffel bag into the corner and you take out pyjamas from the bag of clothes the refuge provided, swallowing down the lump in your throat.

Kazuki and Rei had picked up Miri together that afternoon – silently noting it was the last time they would. They hadn’t spoken much since that morning. Kazuki busied himself with chores whilst Rei retreated to the tub, saying he wanted to catch up on some sleep. He felt beyond tired though, and found himself staring at the ceiling. The look on your face when he’d shut Kyu’s car door was burnt into his brain. It wasn’t how he wanted to remember you, but it was all he could think about. They were doing the right thing, though, weren’t they? He knew how serious his father was about what was expected of him, of what his father had done to those who disobeyed his will. Again, the image of his instructor’s wife flashes in his brain.

He's done the right thing. Maybe that’s why it hurts so much.

Miri was delighted to see her papas both there – clearly she’d forgotten her foul mood from this morning – but on the arrival back at the apartment, she noticed your absence.

“Papa Rei, where’s Kitty?”

It was inevitable they’d have to tell Miri – of course she’d ask – but Rei’s frozen as the little girl looks up at him, her head tilted in confusion. Kazuki comes to his rescue.

“Miri,” The blonde knelt down, tugging her around to face him, “Remember Kitty’s voice was poorly and she couldn’t remember her name when we first met her?”

“Yeah, but her voice got better.”

“Yeah, that’s right. Well, Kitty’s gone somewhere to help her to continue to get better. She’s sorry she didn’t get to say goodbye, but the place is really far away and she had to leave straight away…”

“Oh. Won’t she come back when she’s better?”

“I’m not sure, Miri. We don’t know how long it’s going to take Kitty to feel better. It might be a long time.”

Miri frowns for a moment, before taking it all on her chin and giving a brave little nod. She looks back to Rei, standing to the side, and leans in to whisper in Kazuki’s ear. “Is Papa Rei sad?”

“Yeah, I think he is.”

Miri nods, solemnly, before running over and hugging his legs. “It’s okay, Papa Rei. Kitty wouldn’t want you to be sad. She likes it when you smile, remember?”

Rei ruffles her hair, forces a smile. “Yeah, she does.”

Days pass.

You miss them.

You have a thorough check-up with a doctor, who seems to have notes in front of her in Kazuki’s handwriting. He must’ve written it all down when you got back that night. The doctor’s nice enough, agrees with what was said at the cash-in-hand clinic. The refuge has a full-time kitchen staff, a laundress and cleaning staff, they just want you to take the time to adjust, heal and overcome. Let us look after you, they stress. You’re given a schedule of workshops and activities – in a group and solo – and you listen and try and engage, fill out the worksheets as directed, try and face some of the unhealthy thinking habits you’d developed. The therapist is nice – she seems to know what you’re thinking before you even say it and, slowly, you begin to open up again about what happened in the house, what he did, what he said… and his voice quietens down again. You miss them, but you don’t talk about them.

Four days after you had arrived there, you place the duffel bag on the bed and finally begin to unpack. You can tell Rei must’ve packed it – his folds aren’t as neat as Zuki’s but it’s clear he tried his best. You transfer each of the garments into the dresser drawers carefully until you reach the very bottom. There’s a shirt that’s not yours – a cartoon cat smiling up at you. It’s Rei’s – the one with the cat in a pocket back and front. You clutch it to your chest – he must’ve grabbed it from the laundry basket because it smells like him. Something crinkles as you hold it – tucked inside is a drawing of you, Miri, Kazuki and Rei in Miri’s cute style.

You slip the drawing under your clothes in the dresser and go to bed, cuddling the t-shirt.

You miss them, but they’re safe and that should suffice. Maybe tomorrow the hollow feeling in your stomach will pass.

The days all blur into one since Miri went home with Misaki. The last day with her had been difficult. Rei knew they were doing the right thing, but there were moments in the day he’d look over his shoulder for you wanting to see your reaction, the adorable look on your face when you were charmed by something, but then he’d remember.

He games all night, sleeps all day, emerges for food once in a while, which he and Kazuki eat in the dark – all instant stuff. If Kazuki has noticed the plush lion that is now always besides the tub with Miri’s rubber duck, he’s kind enough not to mention it. Nor the fact that his phone’s background is the photo of him and you at the zoo. He’ll delete it before he returns home.

He will, but not now.

You’ve been opening up more in the sessions recently. They seem surprised, commenting on how well you seem to be doing already. You realise it’s because they think you’re only weeks out of there. Kazuki, Rei and Miri have been some sort of therapy for you in another way, you supposed.

There’s a calendar in your room – void of any of the comments that were on the ones at home, of course, but Miri had drilled this particular date into your mind. It’s the day of her concert, when she’s going to be singing Silent Night with her class. You wonder if Misaki, Rei and Kazuki will all go together. Surely, even if Miri has gone to live with her, Kazuki and Rei would still be allowed to see that?

You try to push the thought to your back of your mind as you leave your room to head down for breakfast, but there’s a hub of activity at the end of the hallway. Hikoti is in whispered discussions with two other staff members.

“Good morning, Kitty.” Hikoti smiles when she sees you. “Do you mind popping by my office before you go for breakfast, please?”

“S-sure.” You nod and follow the woman down the stairs. She encourages you to take a seat on the too firm sofa.

“There was an incident this morning which I believe you should be aware of.”

“O-okay.” You don’t like the sound of that.

“I don’t say this to frighten you – it’s been dealt with, but it would help if we had some more information about the nature of it. Do you know a man called Rei Suwa?”

Your stomach flips. Is this a test from Kyu, to see if you would tell them about Kazuki and Rei? Or did Rei come for you? Could his father have changed his mind, somehow…? The possibility of seeing Rei again wins.

“Yes.”

“And is this him?” She slides over a photograph from what looks like the CCTV at the gate, but when you see the man in the grainy image, your stomach sinks.

“N-no, t-that’s n-not him.”

“Mm. Do you know who he is?”

It’s that man from Kyu’s café – weeks ago now. The one with the protruding eyes and the blank stare, the one who made you feel uneasy. You shake your head.

“I’ve s-seen h-h-him before, but I don’t know h-his n-name, though. S-sorry.”

“That’s okay,” Hikoti removes the photograph from your view. “He was at the gate early this morning asking for you by name. We didn’t confirm you were here – we don’t give out anyone’s names as a safety concern. He refused to leave, so we called the police. He finally left after he heard the sirens.”

You nod. Is this what they’d been trying to protect you from?

“I’m sorry if this has upset you too, but I wouldn’t worry about it, okay? You’re safe here. It looked to me like he was a journalist. He kept pulling out a notebook of sorts. Sadly, they go to horrible lengths to get a story.”

A horrible thought dawns on you - if he had come for you, would he try for them next? “C-can y-y-you let Kyu k-know, p-please?”

“Of course.”

Kyu hesitates before he says it. They haven’t told him their plans, but he can guess and what he’s about to say is probably just going to add fuel to the fire, but after the events of last night they should know. “Ogino was at the women’s refuge early this morning.”

“What?” Kazuki and Rei say in perfect unison.

Rei’s heart is in his mouth. “Is Kitty okay? What happened?”

“She’s fine.” He stresses. “He didn’t get anywhere near her. I told you, this place is good. He tried to get in by saying he was Rei Suwa, the idiot. He refused to leave, but when they called the police he scarpered. Probably regrouping.”

“Well, hopefully we’ll see him at our little chat, huh?” Kazuki nudges Rei.

“You need these to chat?” Kyu quips as he opens the trunk, handing over the case.

“You know what the Suwa family is like.”

“Rei…” Kazuki says cautiously. Miri’s asleep upstairs and the two men have been sitting in silence in the living room. Kazuki’s been watching trashy television whilst Rei’s been scrolling on his phone. They’ve been holed up in Kyu’s safe house a few days now, since after Miri’s Christmas concert. They didn’t really want to go back to the apartment funded by the Organization. Kazuki had hired a packing service to box things up from there and transfer them to a storage unit. He was waiting until after the holidays to try and find them a new apartment with the money Karin hadn’t taken – a smaller, more affordable apartment - but Kyu had said the house was theirs for as long as they needed it. He dropped off supplies and, thankfully, painkillers. They would need something closer to Miri’s daycare come January, though, but there was still some time.

“You know, Kyu said he can go take you to see her in the new year, if you like.”

“No.” It’s not the answer Rei’s heart gives, but he’s already been lucky enough escaping with Miri. He doesn’t want to chance it, he can’t risk it.

“Rei…” Kazuki sighs. He knows Rei is thrilled to have Miri back, he is too – it’s more than he could’ve ever dreamed of – but when Miri’s asleep, Rei seems to deflate. He thought at first it was due to his arm, but Rei had never been one to feel sorry for himself when injured or sick – it is what it is, he’d shrug off. He appeared to have already come to terms with the sacrifice he’d made. So there’s only one other explanation Kazuki can see and it’s one he knows - he’s lovesick.

“Kitty deserves better than me.”

“Don’t you think you should ask her what she wants? I mean, I’m pretty confident what her answer will be.”

“It’s like you said at the top of the Ferris wheel – I had more than my fair share.”

He goes back to his phone, signaling the conversation is over.

Kyu’s in the café, wiping down the counter when his phone rings. He sees the caller ID and answers, a little hesitant.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Kyu. It’s Hikoti. Are you free to talk?”

Kyu casts an eye over the empty café. “Of course – is everything okay?”

“Yes, sorry, I should’ve started with everything’s fine. Kitty’s doing incredibly well, to be honest with you – she’s continued to engage well in therapy, workshops, the activities. That’s why I’m calling - we review each woman’s progress bi-weekly and, well, we’re not sure how much more we can do for her here.”

“Already?” You’d only been there a few weeks, after all. Could it have been that whatever Kazuki and Rei had been doing with you had actually set you off on the right foot…?

“I know it seems quick but we are all of the same opinion. I want to stress that it’s never a decision the team take lightly and, of course, she’ll need to continue some of the things we’ve worked on independently, but I do think we should begin to look into what the next step for Kitty might look like.”

“Mm.”

“We wouldn’t ask her to leave or force her out until we knew she’d have a safe and stable place to go to, it’s just you’ll appreciate how our capacity is limited and there are others who need our help. Besides, it’s unfair on Kitty to hold her back, especially after she already lost so many years to those horrible circumstances.” Hikoti sighs.

“I don’t intend to put pressure on you, just to raise it. Ideally, this is when we’d recommend they return to live with family or a trusted friend, but I remember from our initial conversation you were having difficulty in locating any relatives for her.”

Kyu pulls open one of the drawers under the register without thinking, moving a couple of envelopes out of the way until he can see a photograph.

“Funnily enough, Hikoti, I think I might have a lead…”

You’re worried when you see Kyu sat in Hikoti’s office – she’d asked you to come by after breakfast. He said you wouldn’t hear from him again, so why is he here? Did something happen…?

“Hi, Kitty.” He smiles, though there’s something different. It’s a genuine one, rather than the sympathetic one from a few weeks ago. “You’re looking really well.”

“T-thank y-you.” You sit down, hesitantly, on the sofa.

Hikoti smiles, trying to sooth your nerves. “It’s okay, Kyu’s here with good news. Or at least we hope you’ll think of it as good news.”

It’s then you notice that Kyu’s holding a manilla file in his hand.

“I think I’ve found your family.”

Your eyes widen at that. Family? It had just been you and your father in your spotty memory. Is it some sort of relative - some great aunt or cousin twice-removed?

“I’ve spoken to them and, if you’re happy to, they’d like you to come stay with them for a bit.” He places down the file and slides it over. “The information’s all in there, if you want to take a look.”

You can’t stop your hand shaking as you pull it closer to you, flipping it open. There’s a document but your eyes focus solely on the photograph that’s clipped in front. It’s of three people – a little girl holding aloft a gold medal with a huge smile on her face, a blonde man to her right, beaming, and a dark-haired man to her left, a cute, but awkward smile on his face. You can’t stop the smile on your own before you look up to meet Kyu’s eyes.

“My family?” You repeat. “T-they w-want me?” You’re trying to contain yourself in front of Hikoti. You have so many questions.

Kyu nods, “If you’ll have them.”

Am I extremely cruel for making you all wait another chapter for a reunion?! Maybe... I hope this snippet-style across the days reads okay, I didn't want to rehash a lot of the stuff we already know! Comments, likes, reblogs all appreciated - thanks as ever for your wonderful support throughout this series. Part 13. Ghostdog x

#ghostdogwrites #buddy daddies #rei suwa x reader #buddy daddies fanfic #suwa rei x reader #miri unasaka #kazuki kurusu #buddy daddies x reader #rei suwa #rei suwa x you #suwa rei x you

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chronicallyonlinewriter · 4 days

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Bright Fire, if you please

Bright Fire is fun. I started writing it, but it just never ended up going anywhere. Basically, Ellie and Joel make it to Bill and Frank's compound, but Bill and Frank are still there. Not much has changed - Frank is still sick, but because they're still alive they (they = Frank) insist they stay for a night, and rest up before continuing out west.

Joel considers pawning Ellie off on Bill, but it's very apparent he won't leave Frank, who doesn't have a lot of time left. There is angst about Tess, of course, who was a friend to Bill, and a dear friend to Frank.

It pretty much means everything to Ellie, meeting two queer men happily in love at the end of the world.

Small snip:

“Stay there.”

For once, Ellie didn’t need to be told twice. Joel approached the fence alone, the DANGER: HIGH VOLTAGE sign zip-tied to the chain-link already enough of a warning to curb any spark of defiance. She could hear it, anyway; the low hum resonating through the air, audible over the breeze and the twills of birds in the nearby trees – and this was far from the first electric fence she’d been around, so she knew better than to get too close to it.

She watched, instead, a knot of apprehension tightening in her stomach; observed him shift on his feet slightly, hesitating for only a moment before he reached out, his hand still swollen, his knuckles scabbed and puffy. His thumb tapped a keypad quickly, six beeps stinging at her ears before a deeper hum groaned from the fence, a button on the keypad gleaming green. She didn’t miss the slight sigh of relief that pushed out of his lungs when the gate unlatched itself and swung open just a few inches, or the way he rounded his shoulders before he turned to face her again.

“Listen to me,” he said, and there was just enough gruffness in his voice to draw her gaze up to him. His jaw was set, his mouth a hard line. “You stay close. Don’t talk to ‘em, don’t answer any questions they ask you – I’ll handle everything. You keep that –” he gestured vaguely to her arm, neither her bite marks nor her bandages visible under her jacket sleeve, “covered the whole time. Y’hear me?”

“Sure thing,” she responded, somewhat dully. “You got a muzzle you want me to wear, while we’re at it?”

He didn’t answer; only huffed impatiently without bothering to rise to the bait, and she scowled even as he gestured for her to walk ahead of him. The gate groaned shut behind them, the latch snapping with a finality that severed the world outside, even if she could still see it between the metal links. That persistent hum immediately returned, prickling the hairs on Ellie's neck and setting her teeth on edge.

They walked together down a wide street now, her eyes sweeping across every building that they passed. She hadn’t known quite what to expect from Bill and Frank’s, but it certainly wasn’t this – what amounted to a whole town contained within electrified metal, the houses and other buildings comprised of peeling paint and sagging siding, but still whole, standing tall. Fall gnawed at the edges of summer here, and what the trees hadn’t managed to hold onto now blew across her feet, colorful leaves swirling in the wind and catching against the curbs. Ellie had never been in a place like this before; still filled with the remnants of Before, while so open, smelling of fresh air and crisp leaves. “How many people live here?” she asked, finally noticing that she’d begun to lag behind his much longer strides, and jogging to catch up.

“Just Bill and Frank,” he replied, though his mind seemed to be elsewhere, his gaze focused on a large white house looming on their left.

It was by far the largest one on the street, the paint a little less faded, the grass more neatly shorn. There were colorful flowers set into two large clay pots at either side of a white-painted wooden gate at the edge of the yard, and Ellie paused in front of one of them, bending down to sniff at the bright orange blossoms experimentally. “Don’t touch anything,” he called over his shoulder. Ellie, sure he wasn't looking, quickly squeezed a petal between her fingers. It gave away quickly, darkening and becoming slick against her skin, and she wiped her hand off against her jeans just as he paused, turning to look at her with an expectant expression. “C’mon.”

They didn’t even manage to make it halfway down the walkway before the door to the house burst open. “Oh, shit,” Ellie breathed, and it was instinct that made her duck behind Joel. A broad figure, his scruffy face contorted in a mask of fury, stormed down the porch steps, a shotgun clutched tight in his hands and the muzzle aimed right at them. She shot a panicked glance at Joel, expecting some decisive action, a whispered instruction, maybe even a mirror image of the weapon currently pointed at them. But he only grunted slightly, his fingers twisting over the pistol still holstered at his side but not drawing it free.

“Seriously?” he asked, clearly unimpressed.

“The hell you think you’re doing?” the man practically barked, his eyes still squinting down the barrel of his gun. “You just show up, don’t even radio ahead –”

“Didn’t have time, Bill,” said Joel impatiently. “Put the damn gun down.”

“Who is that?” Bill demanded, the shotgun dipping momentarily towards Ellie's direction as she peered around Joel’s back. Before she could react, Joel, with unexpected swiftness, moved a step sideways, placing himself squarely between her and the barrel of the gun – and this surprised her more than she would have liked it to. “Easy, there,” said Joel, his voice edged with warning. “We’re just passin’ through. Headin’ west, figured we’d stop here for supplies. You owe me after that last run, Bill –”

“I owe you – what, is this a damn joke–”

“Bill!” Another voice echoed from within the house, laced with exasperation. The shotgun dipped momentarily, Bill's jaw clenching like a vise. He didn't relax, eyes still narrowed at them, but his shoulders slumped, his righteous fury simmering down to a grudging suspicion. “For god’s sake, Bill, will you put that thing down?” The door to the house still stood wide open behind him, and there was a heavy thud from somewhere inside.

“Frank!” Bill turned on his heel, disappearing into the house without another glance at them. They could hear him inside of the house; more thumps following a string of muffled cursing.

“Dude.” Ellie took a step back from Joel. “What the fuck. I thought these were, like…friends of yours.”

“Just…stay here,” Joel huffed, shaking his head – and then he left her, too, disappearing into the house, his hand drifting away from his pistol with every step.

#the last of us #tlou #ao3 #fanfic #joel miller #fanfiction #Ellie

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alphabetboyluvr · 10 months

Text

bad decisions - jjk | six

Summer is spent in a technicolour haze of Purple Starfuckers, club lights, unorthodox gym routines, and enough glitter to open a craft shop. Jungkook doesn't quite know how, but he's always finding flecks of the metallic warpaint on his gym gear. Has a little laugh to himself whenever he does the laundry. Mutters, "Fucking Disco Ball." It's monsoon season by the time Hoseok and Danbi make their first appearance at the club without you. He texts you—boo, you whore—and waits in the backroom of the bar until he sees a reply come through. Busy tonight, your reply reads. It feels a little cold, but you don't mean for it to be. You're just a rush, and Jungkook nagging you is the last thing you need. JK: Busy doing what? You: none of your business x

Bad Decision #6 - Wishing

warnings: i like to call this a montage chapter - it's gets us through the entire summer :) gym trips! dionysus nights! jungkook being sexy in the gym! dynamic and friendship solidified!

soundtrack: c'est la vie - ethan surman; my type - brb.; happiness - the 1975

wc: 6k

bd total wc: 370k (on-going)

minors dni | wattpad | series masterlist |

The scowl on your face as you reach the gym prevails. You've a coffee in one hand—iced americano, double shot—and the hood of your sweater is bunching around your shoulders. You lift it over your head, and push the swing door of the gym open with your shoulder, wanting to avoid the unwanted eyes of Jiyeong, just in case she's working.

You don't look over to the reception, but the lobby is empty, regardless. It's quiet, always a little less busy in the morning than it is in the evening.

You make your way to the gate of the gym. Punch in the code. Get it wrong. Tell the keypad to 'stop being a prick'.

You try again, exhaling a weighty sigh as you do so.

There's a whir as it works this time, hinges clicking open for you. The metallic clang of gym equipment and grunts of burly men cloud the air, battling with the voice in your head for the title of most annoying sound. Always have to win, don't you? Couldn't just take a loss!

It's a flaw; one that you'll admit to, but one that you wouldn't change for the world. A little bit of drive is good, even if you do drive yourself up the wall more often than not.

Hood up, a pair of leggings and a sweater on, black high-tops tied in bows around your ankles, you look like death warmed up. You haven't showered yet, and there's still glitter caught in your lashline, but you've a point to prove.

And so, just shy of midday, your feet stomp heavily up the stairs, as thunderous as the look on your face.

It's not that you're actually mardy or moody at all—you're just hanging like an absolute bitch.

Whatever Jungkook puts in those tiny purple shots is lethal. Writes you off every single time.

Admittedly, you had gone a little harder last night knowing that you didn't have work the following day, but that's beyond the point. Normally your hangovers aren't so bad, especially not when you drink water throughout the night—which, thanks to Jungkook, you had been.

Jungkook doesn't notice your arrival until you roll down onto the bench behind him. You're on your side, legs tucked up, just like you had been in your bed when his message had arrived in your inbox.

He's in shorts—black, finishing midway down his thigh—and a big baggy t-shirt. On his feet, he's matching with you. Black Chucks. The only difference is that he ties his around the front. His bows are double knotted and little lopsided, the white trims on the soles scuffed and well worn. He's got history in his hi-tops, and you wonder how it compares to yours.

There's a girl in another city who matches him, and it isn't you. You don't have the tiny 'J' scrawled into the rubber of your soles like she does. He's scratched out her initial on his sole.

Takes a little longer to erase it from his other soul, mind you. It's still there. Only faintly, but enough to make him trip over himself from time to time. S'why he always double knots. Harder to fall, that way.

There's concentration on his face, features perplexed as the weight he lifts forces him to exert more energy than he's fully ready for. His teeth are bared, face tight, brows tied in a pretty knot between his eyes. You can see why Jiyeong is so territorial. He's not a bad-looking bloke. Quite handsome, actually.

He exhales as he brings the weight down, resting it on the ground, chest heaving ever so slightly before he turns to look at you. His brows are still furrowed, but his eyes are soft as his body gets more comfortable and settles into a state of rest.

A breathly laugh graces his lips as he reaches for the towel by your head. He pays no mind to the fact your crown is resting upon it, whipping it from beneath you to dab at the sweat gathering on the back of his neck.

"I said bright and early," he smirks, knowing that you must be hating everything about this interaction.

"It's before twelve," you mumble, eyes closed, knowing that watching his dimples form would only make your tummy feel all light and vomit-inducing. You're too hungover for anything other than neutral sensations. "It is bright and early."

"You're basically asleep."

"The bet was that I'd be here, Jeon," you remind him, voice a grumble as you shuffle deeper into your position. "Not that I'd be doing anything useful."

You've a point. It's not one that he can argue against, and so instead he just shrugs and picks his water bottle up from beside the bench. He tosses a little back into his mouth, the stream of water running from the plastic opening and into his mouth with such precision that you're sure he must be an asshole deep down.

You don't buy the nice guy front. Only assholes look that good doing the bare minimum. You'll get to the bottom of his assholeness eventually, but not now. Not when you're this grouchy, and everything feels a little biased.

"C'mon," he says as he knocks his head to the side. "Treadmill. Walk with me. You'll feel better for it."

"I think I'll die," you tell him with so much certainty he can't help but laugh at you.

Still, he stands in front of you and waits for you to join him. Knocks his knee against yours. Kicks your shoe with his own.

He's patient, his eyes soft as they look down at what a sorry state you are. There's something about the way his lips purse gently that makes him feel like a safe bet.

You've no regrets for tumbling out of bed and catching the subway to meet him at the gym. Your head is killing, granted, but it would have been killing you at home, too. At least this way you can feel like you've actually done something productive despite the hangover.

"Trust me," he insists, holding out his palm. "It really will help."

And so you take his hand, letting him pull you up. They warm, and a little clammy, but you don't mind.

When you're finally on your feet, your eyes are level with his chest. He's broad, chest well defined even beneath the shirt. You try not to think about the fact you've seen him shirtless, but you can smell the scent of his laundry detergent, and it adds a whole new element to the enigma the Jeon Jungkook is. Looking at him, you'd imagine a scent of musk - something woody, maybe. Instead, he smells like fresh blooms, sweet peas under summer sun.

You don't let yourself linger for too long, fearful of him reading into the way you can't seem to keep your eyes off him. He's just new. Something shiny. Fresh. Excitement amongst the mundane of a city you've grown tired of.

He reaches down to pick up your half-empty coffee and takes a sip as he begins to walk away. "Tastes like shit."

You pull it back from him, and nudge his side. "Feels like crack cocaine. The Purple Starfuckers, man... they actually kill me."

"You're welcome."

Small talk peppers the walk down the steps—How are your friends? Get home alright? How was Jimin feeling in the morning? How long do you have to stay after closing time?—and flitters around the pair of you as you set your inclines. His is noticeably higher than yours, but you're not here to work out. You're here to win a bet—of which he keeps reminding you that you lost, and that you are, in fact, a loser.

You just tell him to fuck offin return.

He never does. Just smiles, beams all wide, teeth on display, nose a little scrunched, and says, "Sounds like something a loser would say."

Jungkook is easy to be around. His company, his humour, the anecdotes he tells. They're delivered freely, revealed without pressure. No diamonds are being formed, but there's enough of them in your eyes when you laugh with him, regardless.

You reduce the ease of your interactions to your perceived lack of expectations he has of you.

There's security that comes with fucking someone's housemate. You're no longer a viable sexual conquest, and therefore you don't have to worry about an ulterior motive for your exchanges with Jungkook. Jimin's been there, done that.

For Jungkook to be hanging out with you, you think he must actually like your company. It's mutual. Reciprocal. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

There's a clear line drawn in the sand between the two of you, as you walk forward on separate treadmills. He matches your speed—slow and lethargic—despite his marginally higher incline, before offering you his water.

You hold up your coffee, but he shakes his head. "It'll dehydrate you."

You'd left in such a rush (and without any intent on actually working out) so had neglected to bring any water with you. Never mind the fact you stopped by the coffee place inside the subway station. Force of habit.

You're chronically dehydrated as it is. Danbi has to remind you that you need water, not just iced americanos to get you through the day. Sometimes you listen. More often than not, you don't.

"Sure?" you ask, aware that you don't really know each other well enough to be sharing drinks yet (despite the fact he'd already helped himself to your coffee) but he just nods. Doesn't really see it as a big deal.

"Don't backwash," he tells you as you're mid-sip, and it almost makes you choke the water straight back into the bottle. You refrain, swallowing it down, coughing slightly as you recover from your shock.

"Christ. Too late," you joke as you pass it back, before he makes some crude remark about how you've basically kissed now, and that 'you can't have your way' with both him and Jimin.

"Fuck off," you laugh. "For starters, Jimin and I aren't like, a thing. It was a one-time hook-up."

"Sure."

"Well, I mean, he tried last night," you shrug, looking up to the mirror ahead, finding Jungkook's dark eyes already on you.

He doesn't look away as he says, "he did?"

"You served us, Jungkook," you remind him. Your memories of last night are far clearer than they were of the night you'd actually hooked up with Jimin. "He wasn't getting me drinks just to be kind."

"You don't know that," Jungkook pouts, though he's not sure why. He knows Jimin. He was definitely trying to get laid, but he's also his best friend, so he says, "He's a good guy."

"I don't doubt that," you agree, not wanting it to appear as if you're being over-critical of Jimin. You're the one who fucked him, after all. He's incredibly attractive, and you know that many people would consider themselves lucky to end their night with him, but you've fucked handsome men before. It doesn't really couldn't for all that much.

A fuck is just a fuck.

What we do in the dark has no bearing on who we are in the light of day.

"Sounds like you do," he assesses, but you dismiss it.

"Sounds like you're reading into it a little too much," you banter back, slowly learning that Jungkook likes to do that. He overanalyses. You do quite the opposite.

Jimin could have a noble peace prize for all you care. Doesn't mean you've any interest in fucking him again.

The conversation dwindles on, you gradually upping the pace of your treadmill to the point where Jungkook might consider it a brisk walk (though you'd argue it's a jog).

He's kind in the way he takes a second to think before he speaks, conscious of letting you finish your sentences, and also wanting to be sure of the words he articulates. Thoughtful. Mild-mannered. Nice, but not in a way that boring. Nice, in a way that feels safe.

By the time your legs begin to ache, the treadmills have been running for over forty-five minutes.

You've been too busy guessing the conversations between other strangers in the gym. Who they are; where they're going after their sessions. What they'd had for breakfast (and for some reason, Jungkook would guess 'egg whites' without fail for every single person) and what they'd be having for dinner.

He mimics their voices, and you laugh along, adding a narrative. So many lives have been lived by the people around you, and not a single one you get even remotely correct.

There's a burly man, bearded and broad, with a petite girl hanging on every word he says towards the far corner, and you decide that they're a couple.

Jungkook thinks they're siblings.

Makes it a little awkward when the guy starts squeezing the girl's ass mid-squat.

"Yep, no, maybe you're right," he cringes, face scrunching up, lip ring almost disappearing into his mouth as he does so. Unfortunately, he does also then begin to debate the prospect of them maybe being stepsiblings, at which point you threaten to push him off his treadmill.

"You watch too much porn," you tell him, and he can't even argue against it.

It's been a little while since his last situationship ended, and he's been avoiding bedding anyone new like the plague. Been keeping girls he thinks he could grow to like at arm's length. Safer that way.

"I watch a perfectly healthy amount of porn," he scoffs, but then bunches his face up, clearly not proud of himself for making such a declaration. He chooses to not share the fact that he and Jimin split a VPN bill for that purpose exactly.

You laugh with him, the topic moving along to the PG shows he watches instead, the Netflix shows you're both hooked on, and what you'd each chosen for your Vecna song (which also leads to him helplessly defending all of his Spotify playlists from your gruelling judgement ( Justin Bieber defined a generation and I won't listen to you talk shit about him.... And fuck off, Mad at Disney is cute! Cute! I'm never showing you my Spotify ever again. EVER.))

He mirrors you as you slow the pace of your treadmill, looking over to you after checking the time on the clock - 58:23. Longer than he'd expected you'd last. "Done?"

"Done," you nod.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like death?"

"Still?"

"Still," you nod. "Need a Vita500 and a nap."

"There's CU round the corner," he notes. "I'm now about to leave anyways. I'll come with you. You can get your vitamins, I'm gonna grab something to eat."

You nod, not minding in the slightest—but he mentioned food, and your stomach begins to grumble like King Kong atop the Empire State.

"Would die for convenience store ramyeon," you sigh, musing over one of the finest delicacies in life. Nothing beats instant jjajangmyeon, not even a home-cooked meal.

"Wanna grab some?" Jungkook asks a little mindlessly, not thinking much of the offer. "I'll eat with you."

And so he does. The comfort born in the confines of the gym is nurtured over cheap food and even cheaper shots at one another in the form of banter. He's a lot of fun, you think. It's a shame he's always stuck behind the bar and never able to let loose with you in the club.

He texts you midweek to let you know he can put you on the club guest list, if you want. Save paying entry and queuing. You'd be mad to say no - and so you spend the next few days convincing your friends that another night out is a good idea.

It's not. Hoseok somehow ends the night without his shoes, and you wake up with an ache in your lower back from a guy who'd tried to be all sexy in his bedroom last night, failing miserably. Human bodies aren't supposed to bend in the way he insisted on positioning you in.

You ignore the slight burn as you head to the gym though, ready to pretend like Jungkook's the bane of your life once more.

A routine is forming.

What started as a bet becomes a weekend guarantee: you will get shitfaced at Dionysus on a Saturday, and then you will chat shit with Jungkook on the treadmills for the duration of your Sunday morning.

He never lets you off the machines until the scowl that you inevitably arrive with transforms into a subtle smile. Some weeks it's quicker than others, but one thing is for certain; your scowl will always fade.

By week three, he's already by the treadmills when you arrive.

"No napping today," he teases with a soft smile, making light of the way you always curl up on the bench behind him as he does his final few reps. He's already done with them. Got to the gym fifteen minutes early to make sure he would be.

"Kook," you groan, dragging your feet a little and yet still heading in his direction towards the cardio area.

The way his body swings around to look at you, a single brow raised, is like something out of a kid's cartoon. He's so animated and full of energy that it's hard to believe he was at work until five that morning. "What did you just call me?"

"Shut up," you mumble, crossing your legs and sitting down on the treadmill belt. It's quiet—this time of day is never busy—so you don't feel bad for hogging a machine that no one would be using regardless. "Everyone calls you that."

He hops up on his treadmill and sets an incline, while you let your body flop down on yours.

"You're not everyone."

"Be impossible to be everyone," you mumble, eyes closed, body shuffling into a more comfortable position - until the treadmill jolts, moving ever so slowly beneath you. The way you get up is akin to a cat being confronted with a cucumber, a small yelp leaving your lips. "Jesus, Jungkook!"

He's smirking, as if hadn't been tampering with the buttons, shrugging. "Started by itself."

"You could have killed me."

"What a shame that would have been." He grins at you like a kid who just found a stash of candy. "C'mon! Up you get. I've got places to be. A life to live."

You scoff as you begin to walk forward, lowering the incline that he'd set it to. "You? A life? Seems unlikely."

"You know, you're incredibly hard to like," he assures you. You catch the challenge of his gaze in the mirror and simply shrug.

"Yet here you are, still trying to be my friend."

"Can't shake you off."

"You force me to come."

"I do no such thing."

"Ohhhh, disco baaaaall," you begin to imitate him, bringing your clasped hands to your heart as if you really are begging. You sound nothing like him, but it's kind of deliberate. The more ridiculous you sound, the more he'll laugh. "Pwetty pwease come to the gym and keep me company."

"I don't talk like that," he laughs at how whiney you sound. "And fuck off, I've never said that."

"So you don't mind if I leave?"

His hand reaches over and hooks into the hood of your sweater, as if you're a dog on a leash. His grip is tight. Ain't no way you're going nowhere.

"No, you're not allowed," he says sternly, but there's a smile on his face, voice dulcet as the command rolls off his tongue and sinks into your ear. "I'll get bored."

"See!" You laugh, and pay no notice to the fact his hand stays with an iron grip on the fabric of your sweater even after the joke has been made. He keeps it there.

"It's either I have you keep me company, or Jimin keep me company," he says with a shrug. "I've always got a second choice."

"Aw, but I'm your first choice. How cute."

"My god, I hate you," he says as he finally drops his grip on your hoodie, nudging your shoulder as you walk. He busies his hand, tampering with his incline, trying to make it seem like the touch was casual. Nothing to read into.

It's a debate the pair of you are able to have for hours; who hates who more, who hated who first, who's gonna hate who for longer.

It's not flirting as such, but it is a ruse. You deflect the fact that you actually really enjoy each other's company, using hatred as a measure of just how much you like one another. It's all very juvenile.

He tells you he hates you when you steal half of the cheese he buys for his instant ramyeon after the gym, and you tell him that you hate him every single time you show up at the gym. It's a win-win.

By the time week four comes around, you're surprised to find yourself considering signing up for another month.

You rarely use your membership - once a week, to be precise, and only for about an hour at a time. It does give you a luxury of freedom, though. Chances are you'll be able to find Jungkook there, no matter what time of day it is.

You'd swung by one evening that week after work just to show him the painting someone did of breadfish, knowing that he'd be the only other person in the city who remembered something so ridiculous.

He'd been deadlifting at the time, a thick leather belt cinching the baggy shirt he'd been wearing, stopping you quite suddenly in your tracks.

Hands covered in paint, hair up, a pencil still tucked behind your ear, you're the most 'you' he thinks he's ever seen you.

Sure, he's seen you with your makeup all smudged after a night out, and he's seen you after far too many drinks deep, but he's never really had the luxury of a totally sober 'you'. The 'you' that other people get to indulge in.

The glitter on your lids is a little more subtle than he's used to—it's thinner, finer, a little pink in its hue—but still prettily in place. Sparkling under the harsh gym bulbs. It's nice to know you're a disco even in the daylight.

He finds himself holding the bar he's lifting for a little longer than expected. His eyes are on yours in the mirror. You've paused by the top of the stairs, eyes on his.

It had been the shock of how bloody tiny his waist is that had startled you first, the look in his eyes, second.

And it's that second surprise—a pleasant one—which stops you from doing anything else but staring. He's got car crash eyes, and you can't help but watch the disaster of the wreckage burn.

You can't even really take in the rest of his face, and it's a shame, for he's a sight to behold; lips ajar, the freckle beneath them covered by the shadow of his pout, brows furrowing together slowly.

The longer he looks at you, the more strained his expression becomes - until his eyes close, teeth clenching, body holding the weight until he can't support it for much longer. It drops, his body shaking as his chest heaves, the sound shattering the tension between the pair of you.

You feel bad for intruding; as if you've seen him in a way you were never supposed to. It's not like you walked in on him showering or anything as intimate as that, but it's been a while since a man has looked at you like, well, that.

Desire, passion? Sure, whatever. They'd looked at you with those in their eyes.

But Jungkook hadn't been looking at you with either of those wants. At least, not a want for you.

He'd been pushing himself. Proving himself.

And while he hadn't been proving himself to you, you're reminded why you don't fuck anyone face-to-face these days. Eye-contact. It's too much. Gets you all hot and bothered.

And so while his chest heaves, eyes looking you up and down, a little unsure of what the fuck just happened, you do the only thing you can: distract him.

Behind your back is the breadfish canvas, so you bring it around, hold it in the air and smile as brightly as you possibly can. "Please tell me you know what this is."

He takes a second. Tilts his head, and then realises exactly what it's meant to be - a loaf of bread with a fish head and tail tacked onto the end. He's not seen it since middle school. Was the only one of his friends who found it fucking hilarious - and the way you're beaming makes him think that you were probably just as strange as he was, growing up.

Your mutual childhood strangeness is proven right. Transcends in adulthood, apparently. He sends you voice notes of him singing the breadfish song on loop for three days straight. You block him on 4 separate occasions.

Doesn't stop him from making sure the DJ plays the song on Saturday night. He'll take the blocking if it means he gets to see your smile just as bright as your disco-ball eyes.

When Sunday comes, the look on Jungkook's face as you tell him your membership is due to expire is hard to read.

His eyes, for once, don't give much away.

He's forbearing as he says, "You can't use your memberships expiring as an excuse not to hang out anymore. I'll still force you on hangover walks."

His stoicism fades as he tries to hide a smile when you ask him to wait by the door of the gym lobby. You renew your membership. Just for another month. Just enough to keep him happy.

And so the routine continues. Saturday nights are reserved for Dionysus; Sunday mornings for the boy from behind the bar.

There's normally a gap of five or so hours between you saying goodbye at the club and hello at the gym.

Sometimes you go home from Dionysus with Hoseok and Danbi.

Other times, you end up in an apartment that's unfamiliar, with a man who's equally as unknown.

They're always nice enough.

Never nice enough to make you wanna stay the night.

On one occasion, you end up going home with another woman, instead. It's not unheard of, for you, just harder to come by. Your first experiences had been with women, and your dating history is littered with as many women as it is men. You don't subscribe to the idea of sexuality being a linear thing, far more content with just going with who feels right, not what feels right.

Naively, you'd put her on a pedestal, thinking you'd finally get a decent lay—but a drunk shag is a drunk shag. You still ended up leaving as soon as you could, orgasm not quite reached.

At this point, you figure it's a mental block. You never used to have this issue, but you also used to only fuck people you loved.

When the people you loved began to fuck you over, things changed.

You've too many rules now. Too many restrictions on yourself. You can never fully relax and actually enjoy sex for what it is.

The rules are never set in stone, but they always follow the same pattern.

Don't let yourself be vulnerable. Don't get fully naked. No kissing during sex. Absolutely no face-to-face fucking. Taken from behind, or not at all. You'll give oral, but the second some tries to reciprocate, you move it along.

How can you enjoy intimacy with another person when you won't let yourself be intimate?

There are just too many things that remind you still of him; things that will hurt your heart more than it already does when someone else takes his place.

And so sex isn't really sex anymore. It's a tool.

You use it to pretend like you're over everything that happened with your ex; as if you're in control of a situation that he created.

And so that's why Saturday nights are reserved for Dionysus: they're filling the space of date night. Sunday mornings in the gym? Filling the space of lazy morning fucks and brunch down by the lake near Hoseok's place.

Being busy with the gym stops you from making 11:11 wishes for him to show up at your door, and the nights in Dionysus stop you from looking for shooting stars to wish upon instead.

Instant noodles with a guy you barely know don't quite manage to make you forget about eggs benedict with the man you thought you might one day marry, but hey - it's something at least.

On the nights that Jungkook knows you don't go straight home, he checks up on you; will text when his shift is up, again when he gets home, and one final time when he wakes up. He doesn't care for the semantics that come with double messaging. He isn't trying to impress you.

He knows what you get up to in the dark. What you do is your prerogative. He's more concerned about the lack of trust and faith he has in the people you do it with. Despite this, not once does he berate you for it.

Even Hoseok's made a dumb remark here and there about the fact you're 'getting around', but if Jungkook's thought similar things, he doesn't let you know it. He's a good friend. One that you're lucky to have. Thank God you fucked his flatmate and not him, instead.

The illusion of you has slipped by this point, for Jungkook. He knows you too well to toy with what-ifs.

You feel secure in the fact he's not trying to get into your pants; a rarity for dudes these days.

Even Jimin took the hint after you turned him down, and has become a welcome addition to your nights out. He's fun to flirt with, but he knows nothing will happen, so he never pushes it too far - but is also happy to be your cover when another bloke is getting too touchy with you for your liking. He's been your 'boyfriend' a grand total of three times, now - only ever for a night.

You're not too familiar with Jungkook's other friends yet, but you sometimes get in on a round of shots with them. There are four usual suspects: Jimin, Taehyung, Namjoon and Yoongi. All handsome, all perfectly nice. None of them stick to you like glue, though. Not Jungkook did.

Hoseok and Danbi have followed your lead, and consider the boys casual acquaintances; drinking partners for when they happen to be at the bar at the same time.

A dog walker by profession, Danbi always finds herself flirting with Taehyung, who tries his hardest to get a discount on her services. She always refuses.

Jungkook and Yeonjun have a running bet going to see how long it takes until he's paying full price, just for an excuse to see her outside of a club setting. They've had to reset the bet twice, because Danbi might just be the most stubborn woman to have ever graced the planet.

Summer is spent in a technicolour haze of Purple Starfuckers, club lights, unorthodox gym routines and enough glitter to open a craft shop.

Jungkook doesn't quite know how, but he's always finding flecks of the metallic warpaint on his gym gear. Has a little laugh to himself whenever he does the laundry. Mutters, "Fucking Disco Ball."

It's monsoon season by the time Hoseok and Danbi make their first appearance at the club without you.

He texts you—boo, you whore—and waits in the backroom of the bar until he sees a reply come through.

Busy tonight, your reply reads. It feels a little cold, but you don't mean for it to be. You're just a rush, and Jungkook nagging you is the last thing you need.

JK: Busy doing what?

You: none of your business x

Despite the kiss you end your sentence with (he can hear the way you say 'mwah' the same way you do whenever you know you're being a little cheeky), it still feels... off.

JK: Oddly defensive.

You: i'm always defensive :)

You: lemme know when you get home safe

It's a simple role reversal, but Jungkook isn't sure what to make of it. He's normally the one making sure you get home safe. Not the other way around. It's not a 'what-if' scenario that he's run through in his head before. He doesn't like it.

He likes being depended on. Has gotten used to you depending on him.

Pushing it to the back of his mind, he makes orders without much thought, too busy letting himself indulge in what-ifs. It's been a while since he's thought of any regarding you, but he's consumed by them, now. Where you are, who you're with. Why Danbi and Hoseok won't give him a straight answer when he asks. They say it's not their business, but the way Danbi gives Hoseok a grimace whenever the topic is mentioned would suggest she doesn't approve.

It's probably why you haven't told him. He wonders how bad it must be. Secrets aren't something really kept between the pair of you.

There are things he hasn't told you - parts of his past he'd rather keep buried - but he doesn't actively hide himself from you. He thought you did the same.

Apparently not.

He arrives home with no new message from you. It's five thirty, and even though he's a little pissed with the sudden change in your attitude towards him, he can't bring himself to take it out on you.

JK: I'm home, asshole.

JK: Dionysus ain't the same without a disco ball.

Tossing his phone down onto his sheets, Jungkook stares up at his ceiling. There's never been a complicated weight to your friendship, but he's also never been in the dark before.

Above him, origami birds dance in the light breeze coming from his aircon unit.

There's a dozen strung up from his paper folding phase six months ago, when he was trying to get his mind off of the girl whose initial had been scratched out of the soles of his shoes. Thought that if she came back, she'd find the birds endearing.

Kept them up just in case. Now, he just keeps them up as a reminder: You've gotta let wild birds fly away. Can't keep them caged up.

And it's funny, cause the strings the birds hang from feel like a cage for his thoughts, now. They get tangled in the spokes, your name wrapping around the bars. He can't keep you in a cage, either.

Can't expect you to be as you always have been with him, just because it's the 'norm'. Can't expect you not to have a life without him.

You: does your apartment need one?

JK: A disco ball? Don't think so?

Truthfully, he thinks a little disco ball would be fitting strung up with all of his birds.

You: gaaawd, ur such a boy

You: i'm asking if i can come over :(

He tries not to read into the unhappy face, but it has him sitting up, replying just as quickly as his heart is beating. There's something amiss, and he doesn't like it.

JK: Oh. Now?

You: no, next week

You: yes now, doofus

JK: It's 5am?

He doesn't know why he's being like this. Difficult. Perhaps he is a bit bitter. Petty.

You: this isn't a booty call lmao, chill out

You: i'll be there in 15

JK: Do I get a choice?

He's smiling as he sends the message, and hopes you'll read it in the tone he intends. He's bantering, trying to deflect from the heaviness he can feel in your text thread.

He's relieved when you reply just how he hoped you would.

You: no x

JK: See you in 15, db x

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dreamcatcher92 · 7 months

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Coercion Chapter Two

So this is my second smut story that I have been working on. I am hoping you all enjoy!

It is a bit dark. Yes, Billy Russo is of course our main character aside from a girl named Cassidy. Who is completely made up and meant to be played by the reader. The other characters that are mentioned in this story are made up as well and not based on anyone in particular. I did this one differently than my first story, but I wanted to switch up my writing style a bit. So you may see more differences in other stories to come. Things that are bold and italicized are thoughts.

Now for some warnings for the entire story but necessarily in the current chapter you read: dark Billy for sure, non-con, dub-con, kidnapping, NSFW, 18+, smut, sex, rape, attempted rape, physical violence, abusive behavior, language. I think that covers it, but sorry if I missed something.

Read at your own risk.

Cassidy kept looking at the clock. Two and a half hours had passed and there was nothing around. Just darkness and thick masses of trees on both sides of the road. It was such an awkward drive. Neither one of them said a word.

“We’re almost there.” he said, breaking the silence.

Cassidy quickly looked over at him. He had a very serious look on his face. She could tell he was a no-nonsense kind of person. He was very intimidating and made her extremely nervous. Her heart was beating fast and the more she thought of different scenarios that could potentially happen, the worse she felt.

Moments later, the car pulled off the main road and onto a driveway that was tucked in the tree line. They drove down the path for a few minutes and that’s when she could see the clearing up ahead. As they came from the trees, Cassidy looked around. There was so much land, but it was all surrounded by a very tall fence. What is this place?

The car approached the gate in the fence. A bright light illuminated a keypad that was on a metal pillar located at the side of the driveway. Mr. Russo rolled down his window, typed in a code, and the gates began to open. Cassidy felt like her heart was going to pound right out of her chest.

She looked ahead and could see a house coming into view. The exterior had black concrete walls with several floor to ceiling windows. The entire area around the structure was glowing from the ground lights that shined brightly on the walls.

As the vehicle came to a stop, Cassidy let out a shaky breath. She was so on edge and all she wanted to do was run. Her mind began to race with ideas of how to escape. She began to whimper and couldn’t believe how her life had been completely turned upside down.

Mr. Russo shut off the engine and unbuckled his seatbelt. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cellphone. He began typing a message to someone, so Cassidy decided to unbuckle as well.

As soon as she pushed the button on the buckle, he grabbed her wrist tightly and raised her arm into the air away from the seat, “Did anyone tell you to move?!”

“N-no. I’m s-sorry. I ju-”

“You don’t move or do anything unless I say so. Do you understand me?”

“Yes! Yes, sir!”

He let go of her wrist and went back to typing on his phone as if nothing happened. Panic began setting in and Cassidy’s entire body began to tremble uncontrollably. After a few minutes of sitting in silence, Mr. Russo opens his door and gets out. He walks around the front of the car to the passenger side and opens the door.

“Get out of the car and stand next to it.” he said in a harsh tone.

Cassidy didn’t hesitate, she got out, stood with her back to the car, and did not move an inch. She watched as he grabbed three large suitcases from the trunk then slammed the lid shut.

“This one has clothes for you. We’re going to be staying here for a few months before going back to the city.” he said, looking down at her and placing a piece of luggage at her feet.

Cassidy was stuck in her thoughts and stared down at the gravel. Run! Run right now! You can make it!

“Hey!” Mr. Russo shouted as he snapped his fingers in front of her face.

She flinched and looked up at him, “I-I’m sorry.”

He glared at her for a few seconds, “Take your stuff up onto the porch. I have a few more things to grab. Wait for me there.”

“Y-yes Mr. Russo.” she said softly as she grabbed the handle to the suitcase and started walking toward the front porch.

As she walked away, he grabbed a large gym bag and computer bag from the backseat. Cassidy walked up the few stairs to stand next to the front door. She kept her eyes down and waited for him as he instructed. Just do what he says. Breathe.

Minutes later, he walked up beside her and sat the computer bag on the ground. He then flipped open a small metal lid that revealed a keypad on the wall. Cassidy watched as he disarmed the security system before they went inside. This felt like some sort of prison instead of a house.

“From this point on, I want you to call me by my first name, Billy.” he said before gesturing for her to walk inside.

Cassidy sheepishly nodded and walked in. She looked up to see that she was now standing on the entryway landing. The floorplan was very open. There were three stairs leading down on either side of the platform to walk into the living area or toward the kitchen. A giant glass chandelier was hanging from the ceiling directly above her.

The living room had a black leather sectional that surrounded a round glass coffee table. It faced the enormous black marble fireplace. All the walls were painted a light gray and the floors were white marble floors with a large plush black rug that covered most of the living room floor.

The kitchen and dining area was just as impressive. All stainless-steel appliances, a round glass table that had dark wooden criss cross supports and a beautiful tempered glass tabletop, and black marble countertops to accent the white cabinets. Cassidy stood and took everything in for a few moments.

Billy placed his hand on her back and guided her to walk with him. Leaving the luggage behind, he took her down the long hall that was tucked between the living room and kitchen. On both sides of the hall were the floor to ceiling windows. It was like she was walking through a glass tunnel.

She looked to her right and saw that there was an inground pool and hot tub in the backyard of the house. The crystal-clear water was glowing from the LED lights. She was staring so intensely that she didn’t realize she was slowing down to almost a complete stop while they walked down the hall. It was only when Billy turned and pulled her along that she came back to reality.

They came to the first door and stopped. Billy opened the door and flipped the light on. Inside was a polished wooden desk paired with a nice black leather desk chair, two dark brown leather couches, and a dark wooden coffee table that sat in between the couches. This was Billy’s office where he would do his work while they stayed here.

“This door is to always stay shut. If for some reason you need me while I’m working, knock first and wait for me to let you in. Understand?” he said as he turned the light out and pulled the door shut.

“Yes, Mr. Ru- uh Billy.” she said, nodding her head.

Next, a few feet away and across the hall, was another door.

Billy walked over and opened the door, “This will be your room when you’re not in my room with me.”

Cassidy felt her heart skip, “O-okay.”

This room consisted of a small twin sized mattress laying on the floor that had one pillow and a small throw blanket on it. There was one tall lamp that stood in the furthest corner of the room, and a white plush rug sat in the center of the room on the floor.

Finally, they reached the end of the hallway where there was one last door to go through. Billy swung it open and pulled her inside with him. This was Billy’s bedroom. He had a large walk-in closet and a bathroom connected to his room as well. His king size bed had several pillows and a white feather down comforter. It looked incredibly comfortable.

“This is my room. The closet is right over there. In the morning, I want you to unpack our bags and put everything away neatly. Through the door on the left is a bathroom. Questions?” Billy quickly explained as he walked around the room.

Cassidy was extremely overwhelmed and anxious, “Uh. N-no, I don’t think so.” Why is he talking so fast?

Billy nodded, “Alright, I’ll draw us a bath before bed.”

Cassidy froze. Us? She began to breathe heavily and felt like she was going to have a panic attack. Billy walked into the bathroom, leaving Cassidy standing in the center of his room. She heard the water start running and immediately felt a pit in her stomach. She looked over at the bedroom door and stared down the long hallway. RUN! Run now!

Cassidy bolted for the door, but as soon as she made it to the doorframe, she heard Billy clear his throat loudly behind her. She froze. She began to feel lightheaded from her nerves. She knew she fucked up and that he was going to be angry. Why did I just do that?!

“Turn. Around. Now.” Billy said in a firm and agitated voice.

Cassidy slowly turned around. She looked Billy in the eyes and could feel the tension rising in the room. Billy began walking up to her, but she couldn’t move. Every muscle was tensed up and she was frightened of what was about to occur.

Once he got close to her, she began to plead with him, “I’m so sorry! Please! It was a stupid mistake and I panicked! Please Billy!”

Billy said nothing, but grabbed a fist full of Cassidy’s hair. She cried out in pain as he pulled her from where she stood and took her into the bathroom. He twisted her around to face him and ripped off the yellow sundress that she was wearing.

Cassidy quickly tried to cover herself with her arms and hands. She was mortified. Billy grabbed her wrists and pulled her arms to her side.

“You’re going to have to get used to me seeing you naked sweetheart. Now, get in the damn bath.” Billy spoke in a deep, serious tone and kept direct eye contact with Cassidy.

Cassidy turned and stepped into the warm bath water. She sat down, and kept her head down. Billy knelt down beside the tub, grabbed the washcloth from the water, and started running it along Cassidy’s back to wet her skin.

“You know, what you did a few minutes ago was really fucking stupid, right?”

“Y-yes,” she whimpered.

He went silent for a few moments while continuing to trickle water onto Cassidy’s skin. Then, without warning, Billy grabs her by the throat and forces her head under the water. Cassidy kicks and grabs at Billy, but he continues holding her underwater for a few seconds longer. Finally, he lets her back up and she is gasping for air. She’s spitting water out and taking harsh, deep breaths to try and get air back into her lungs.

Billy cups her chin and turns her head to face him, “You gonna do that again?”

Stunned, she looks at him as she cries, “No! Please! I swear I won’t do it again Billy!”

Billy tilts his head back and stares at her with his dark eyes, “Good girl.”

#ben barnes #billy russo #billy russo smut #the punisher #ben barnes fanfiction #ben barnes smut #billy russo fanfic #fanfic #smut #smut fanfiction #dark!billy russo #dark billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo imagine #ben barnes x reader #benbarnesedit #fanfiction #fanfic writing

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plainviewwelcomesyou · 2 years

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When you and Cerebelle finally complete the roundabout to Trudy Tulse's abode, what strikes you immediately is the obtuse way it's built in. The whole thing reeks of sleek design, hyper-modern pseudo-brutalist architecture, white surfaces with tints of purple, and above it all - bigness. If a supervillain wanted to call this place their hideout, it'd certainly be fitting.

As with most houses in this town, barring you entry from the walkway is a giant gate. Not just any gate, though - this one looks ripped straight from a high-security defense bunker. And if you thought climbing it was a good idea, think again - looking closer, you notice that at the top of each piece of big, bulky fencing, metal rods conduct strengthy beams of flowing, purple electricity. Sparking and cracking, as if to directly warn you that the owner of this house doesn't take company lightly.

There looks to be an intercom system on the opening - you can tell it’s the opening by the engraved TulseTech logo on the front, as opposed to the blank slates beside it - complete with buttons and keypads and all. A camera with a glowing iris is pointed towards you. It follows your movements, even as you're just pulling up. A weary Cerebelle lays her bike to the side of the gate.

CEREBELLE RAGSDILL: Uh... How about you go first, Mr. Devlin?

(What do you do?)

#plainview

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borglocksblog · 2 years

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Borg Locks supplies and installs a range of gate locks and accessories designed to provide a durable, reliable and secure locking mechanism for residential, commercial and industrial applications all over the USA. We provide gate locks for homes and fencing.

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boxmorelover232 · 4 months

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B:TB&TB Episode Rewrite - Death Race to Oblivion!

Summary: Mongul forces heroes and villains alike to race against Steppenwolf for Earth's survival.

An AU where Clock King is in the race. This time around, however, things play out slightly differently from the Canon.

Cold Open

We open on a panning above-shot of Star City, scoping through the area before landing on a typical one-story house in a nice neighborhood. Switching in the house's interior, we pan through the residence, spotting numerous knickknacks and well-worn furniture before stopping in the master bedroom, its door opened ajar. Turning to the sliding closet, the door opens automatically and reveals the standard business suits seen on ordinary nine-to-five workers in shades of brown and black; there's one suit in a boring gray that stands out near the end of the closet. Its hanger is angled so the entire front is visible to the casual viewer.

A hand pushes the gray suit away, revealing a keypad with unknown symbols instead of numbers. The hand presses the buttons, each press eliciting a small beep, and displaying a strong familiarity with this routine. A small mic pops out of the keypad, and a computerized voice asks, "Bitte sagen Sie den Satz."

"Kleine Schwester," Came the response, the voice husky. The keypad lighting up a bright neon green signified it accepted the passcode. A few whirring sounds followed, and the floor just below the keypad extended up; railings were formed within seconds, creating a small box that assured safety for a maximum of one passenger. Perhaps two, if both participants were willing to squeeze in close.

The person opened the entrance gate and stepped inside, closing and locking the metal bars behind him. A stomp at the corner of the box was all it took before the person began descending down the floor. Once the figure had descended below the surface, the tiling extended outward and covered the secret entrance from prying eyes.

Underground, the person in the crafted elevator tapped his fingers on the metal handrails as he hummed a tune to himself. It was a little off-key, and the lyrics were different- made especially for his dear younger sister- but it was a melody he held dear to his heart. Hänschen klein, if he remembers right. His mother sang the original version to him during his youth; if he closed his eyes and focused, he could still faintly remember his mutti's singing. How he missed her...

Once the elevator jerked to a stop- he made a mental note to fix that- he unclasped the gate lock and stepped out into the wide-opened underground area. He smelled the air, letting it out in a breath; the air was stale, apart from the faint fragrances of vanilla and pine from the scented candles he used during last week's blackout.

"Anozer day, anozer tune-up," Running a hand through his combed-back locks, the man strode towards the locker perched between the haphazardly cut walls of the cavern and (one of many) thick wooden support beams keeping his home from sinking. His mind was already racing with thoughts of what he could perform while working on his motorbike: adjust the air pressure in the wheels, fine-tune the controls, maybe finally install that new tech-reading feature he'd finished just before his last "vacation", and so on and so forth.

Opening the locker door, a dark set of work clothes (overalls, gloves, a thick welder jacket, and dirty boots) greeted him. The overalls and gloves were well-worn, the former housing a few thick patches of mismatching cloth from areas wearing too thin, and the boots' tread was near-nonexistent, but they were the same working garb he'd worn for over a decade. The clothes's familiarity bestowed a sense of comfort to the man, who'd been waiting all day to close up shop for this. He thanked the heavens that it was his day job's half-day.

After changing from his work clothes into his working clothes, a gleam caught the man's eye, looking into the small mirror plastered on the inside of the locker door. Staring at the reflective surface, the man locked eyes with his reflection. For a long moment, the man absorbed his appearance, taking in every detail.

Short black hair with the exceptions of gray streaks that appeared not long after his parents' death (and had gotten worse after his sister passed) and the dyed tuft of brown hair he adopted after a night of heavy drinking, thick black eyebrows trimmed just this morning, a waxed black mustache resting below a wide nose, round cheekbones popping from the rest of his rounded head, and large light blue eyes gazed back at him. Worry lines decorated his face, most prominent between his eyebrows and under the corners of his lips, even when he wasn't emoting. If he furrowed his brows or smiled too wide, he could see Crow's Feet forming at his eyes's corners.

Taking another breath, the man continued staring at his reflection and repeated his personal mantra. It had been heavily altered from the Family Motto his father had stressed during his life, but it held a special place in his heart regardless.

"Time vaits for no vone," He gripped the side of his locker, glancing at an old photo of his family, just after they had come to the States and his baby sister had been born. "As time flows by, Im Laufe der Zeit, ve must all march on."

Closing the locker door, his voice was a mere whisper as he finished.

"Even I must move on, as Villiam Tockman und as ze Clock King."

Main Story

This is not how William wanted his day to go.

One minute, he had been changing into his Villain identity's threads and reviewing his plans to rob Star City's newest History of Clocks exhibit in the museum (specifically for that fancy clock made in Germany during the First World War), and the next thing William knew, he was standing in the middle of what he presumed to be a desert along with some of the best and worst of the Heroes and Villains. William was thankful he'd just put his helmet on before he was teleported away, otherwise, everyone would be getting a good look at his mused hair and sweaty face from hours of previous work. Glancing around, William did a headcount of who was there.

For the Heroes, there was Batman (of course), Green Arrow, the other Green Lantern, Huntress, Plastic Man, and a stout rotund man in desperate need of a wardrobe overhaul. Seriously, who in their right mind would wear a green shirt with black polka-dots and a wide-brimmed hat? The Villains, not including himself. had Black Manta, Catwoman, Gentleman Ghost, and the Joker.

Vhy? Vhy did zat insane Schweinhund have to be here? William seethed, before sighing. Ah, vell. At least Manta is here.

William was about to call out to the swimwear-clad man when he noticed everyone's vehicles teleporting directly behind them; William's own vehicle sat below Black Manta's ship. On instinct, he ran over to his clock-themed motorbike and inspected it for any sign of damage. In hindsight, it probably wasn't the smartest move since William didn't know what was going on, but he put all his heart and soul into crafting his ride and thought of it as his own kin.

His inspection was interrupted when a loud, booming voice caught everyone's attention. Looking up, William saw a well-built, yellow-skinned man clad in blue and red with spiked black bands appear before their eyes and float closer to them on his red podium. The man was at least thirty feet above them, talking about a race.

Zirty feet above ze ground... Running the numbers through his head, William determined that the yellow-skinned male's hover-stand was just within distance of his motorbike's newly installed tech scanner. Vell. I am dying to try zis baby out...

As the angry Green Lantern, Batman, and Mongul (as the man called himself) exchanged words (and a giant green hammer construct), William took the opportunity to turn on the essentials and activate his ride's newly installed feature. The German man isn't sure what compelled him to try it out now of all times, perhaps it was a combination of the elation that came with testing his new gear and the pettiness of wanting Mongul to pay for upheaving his plans for the evening, but William was already halfway done typing in the necessary data to scan Mongul's ride and copy its stored data onto his bike's hard drive by the time he had second thoughts. He might as well go through with it, right?

From the corner of his eye, William saw Black Manta looking over his shoulder at him. William angled his head so his clock face stared back while still seeing the screen clearly. The other man said nothing, turned his head back to the front of the crowd, and shuffled himself so he blocked Mongul's direct line of sight to the Clock-themed villain and his ride. It also unintentionally gave William a better shot at scanning Mongul's floating podium. William made a note to take him out for drinks after this, and if they somehow manage to avoid a lengthy stay at Iron Heights.

William was half-listened to Mongul explaining the game's rules as the German man finished typing everything and lined up his motorbike's new tech scanner with Mongul's stand. With a carefully timed rev of his bike's engine (William was glad he fixed that noise problem), Mongul's hover-podium was scanned and within seconds, he'd gotten all its information stored and downloaded into his bike. William smirked, quickly skimming through the newly collected files when one file in particular caught his attention.

Wacky Warmoon Race Plan

Curious, William clicked it open and scanned through its contents. By the time Mongul disbanded everyone to tweak their automobiles for the race, William had a bad feeling about this entire thing.

~~~

CK: I need you to talk me out of something

Black Manta paused in his welding, rereading the message in his helmet before switching his helmet's controls so his speech would be converted into text responses and no one would hear him talk. Once that was done, Manta continued welding like nothing occurred.

BM: Is something the matter, Tockman.

Black Manta pursed his lips, untangling the wires in his Manta Ship's leg. He really needed to get that issue sorted out. Perhaps after the race, once he's in control of that nifty Warmoon.

CK: Remember how you saw me typign on my Clock Bike's system earlier? And you made sure Mongul wouldn't see me doing it?

BM: Yes that happened less than ten minutes ago. Why do you ask.

It was a beat before Clock King responded, giving the swimwear-clad man enough time to move on to the next leg and inspect its wiring. Thankfully, it wasn't as tangled as the other; the leg joint, however, needed some oiling.

CK: Well CK: Remember the new tech I mentioned back in Iron Heights?

Black Manta paused, trying to recall the conversation Tockman was referring to.

BM: The one where you could watch those. BM: "Private films" while you worked your day job.

CK: Not THAT CONVERSATION!!1!!!1 CK: THE One where I was designing something to scann Green Arrow's stupid car!!!!

BM: Oh. BM: Sorry Tockman.

CK: You are so very lucky you're mein friend, Manta CK: Otherwise, I may just climb up your ship's legs and bash your helmet in

BM: Sorry. BM: Anyway, please continue.

CK: I finished installing it this afternoon and was planning on using it when Green Arrow came to stop me during my heist at the Star City Museum CK: Scan his car's data and store it to read after getting out of prison. See if there's anything I could use against him, yeah?

Black Manta hummed in thought, testing the joint's movement before moving on to the last leg of his Manta Ship.

BM: That does sound beneficial. BM: I take it you've already used it while he was distracted by Mongul earlier.

Another beat ensured. Black Manta had enough time to fuse together some worn wires before Clock King responded.

CK: DAMNIT!!!!1! CK: Why didn't I think of that!?! CK: That was the perfect time to do so!

The messages were deleted seconds after Manta finished reading.

CK: No, I used it on Mongul's lift

That caught Black Manta's attention.

BM: I'm guessing you found something disturbing.

CK: That's one way of putting it...

Black Manta paused in his motions, holding some newly fused wires together in his free hand. Concern gnawed at him, rereading the message multiple times before responding. Something told him that it wasn't anything beneficial to them.

BM: What did you find.

It was a full two minutes before Tockman replied. The long response time made Manta's stomach twist with unease. It took everything he had not to tug on his gloves until his message came through.

CK: It's better if you see for yourself

Attached to the message was a file labeled "Wacky Warmoon Race Plan," and with only a moment's hesitation dwelling on the name (Seriously, why would anyone, let alone an intergalactic threat, give their files such ridiculous titles?) Black Manta opened the file and read through its contents. He was glad he was a speed reader because, by the time he finished looking through the outline and final notes, Black Manta remained still for three minutes. When he was done, Manta sorted through the wires in his hands to pretend to look busy while he processed what he'd just read.

BM: Okay. I believe I know what you're talking about now. BM: But what did you mean earlier when you asked me to "talk you out of something."

Black Manta already had a feeling what it was, but it was better to hear it from Tockman himself. He closed up the leg's panel and moved to work on the tail of his ship. He had already reviewed the appendage this morning, but he needed to look busy to not raise suspicion; with any luck, Tockman was acting similarly. Once the main tail panel was opened, Manta received Tockman's reply.

CK: Well CK: I was thinking of maybe... CK: StoppingMonguls'plansbeforetheyhappened?///?

He's nervous. Black Manta realized. Lightly touching the cables, Black Manta waited for Tockman to continue; the German man usually rambled when he was nervous, regardless if it was verbal or written. Right on cue, his helmet received more messages from him.

CK: I know it's dumb and dangerous and we're villains we don't do that we're eveil and everythign but CK: Monguls not only screwing us over but he's also gonna destroy ALL OF THE EARTH!!111! CK: I have my misgivings about Star City, but I still want to live there damnit!!!11! CK: I already have a half-formed plan but Im not sure and you're the logical one and mein best friend here so CK: I just need unbiased and level-headed insight into this pls

Black Manta paused in his surface-level work when his helmet picked up on movement coming from behind. Quickly switching his speech settings back, Black Manta gently pulled on some wires and inspected them closely; there were faint black specks on the covers, but they were most likely dried grease stains from his morning inspection. Taking out a wipe, Black Manta gently scrubbed it down while he waited for whoever was behind him to speak.

"Cleaning the inside of your machine for the race?" Black Manta recognized the booming voice as Mongul's. Turning down the gain on his helmet, Manta faced the grinning alien as he switched to a different wire. "Rather tedious work, isn't it?"

"A clean start is always a great start, as the saying goes." Black Manta answered, carefully keeping his voice neutral. "Is there anything I can help you with, Mongul?"

The alien laughed, throwing his head back before staring at him with those blank, red eyes. "Can't an event organizer simply check on his participants before the race begins?"

Black Manta raised a brow, picking up on the mild amusement in Mongul's voice. Hesitating, Black Manta decided to take a risk. Inhaling deeply, steadying his nerves, Black Manta set down the wipe he was using and stretched his polishing hand.

"Well, since you're here," He began, carefully watching Mongul for any useful nonverbal hints. Flicking his wrist, his helmet began analyzing Mongul's facial movements and scanned for any tells. "I am rather curious about that Warmoon you have."

"Oh?" Mongul raised a thick brow, intrigued.

"Yes," Black Manta nodded, "I'm aware the Warmoon is capable of destroying the Earth, but exactly how much power does it generate? How can it generate that power at all?"

Mongul's grin widened, the alien elaborating on Warmoon's function and purpose. Black Manta continued asking questions, slowly squeezing out more details. Mongul seemed to not be onto Manta's plan, and his helmet was detecting no signs of suspicion, as the yellow-skinned alien answered each inquiry with excessive pride and vigor that could rival Aquaman's own. Regardless, Black Manta kept phrasing his questions in a manner that indicated pure curiosity only and kept his calm throughout the conversation. Can't get too careless, especially when you're playing with fire.

By the time Mongul had to move on- stopping Green Arrow and Batman, of all people, from throwing hands with each other- Black Manta knew what needed to be done. He just hoped Tockman hadn't already made up his mind.

~~~

Clock King - Black Manta Correspondence

BM: Sorry for the late response. Mongul came to check on me. CK: Not a problem! I saw the whole thing from my spot while working on my Clock Bike CK: The Schweinhund just passed without sparing a glance! >:( BM: Sorry to hear that. But I do have some news. CK: So do I! CK: I overheard Green Arrow and Batman arguing just now, and I think they already have a plan in motion! CK: Remember when they foiled my plot in Monte Carlo last year? BM: The Tick Tock Terror. CK: Yes!!! CK: Batman distracted me with a fight around town while Green Arrow destroyed my beautiful masterpiece... CK: Except, during the argument, Batman called it a "race," when it wasn't anything of the sort! CK: Maybe a race against time CK: Those two aren't dumb enough to make a mistake like that CK: SO! BM: So he and Green Arrow intend to execute a similar plan. CK: Exactly! CK: I think Huntress is in on it too, but I'm not sure. Either way, it seems I was worried for no reason! :) BM: Not necessarily. CK: What do you mean? BM: When Mongul came to check on me, I took the opportunity to learn more about the Warmoon and its functionality. He appeared excited to brag about its capabilities and didn't seem to sense anything suspicious. If Batman and Green Arrow's plan is identical to Monte Carlo's, what I learned from Mongul will negatively impact the Heroes' plan. CK: What is it? BM: Warmoon's energy core has a powerful forcefield protecting it, preventing trespassers from coming close. It can only be deactivated by accessing Mongul's personal shut-off switch in his podium and turning off the dual-lock system that can only be unlocked on the Warmoon. CK: Ach du liebe Zeit... BM: I'm afraid so, Tockman. BM: Even if Green Arrow were to be eliminated first, he lacks the expertise or knowledge to override the lock systems. BM: Even if he somehow breaks through it, there's still the matter of Mongul's personal control on his podium. Not to mention the time crunch he'll be under during the race. BM: In short, the Earth will be doomed. BM: Unless. CK: "Unless"? BM: Unless one of us deactivates the Warmoon's lock system and the other handles Mongul's personal switch. CK: Wait. CK: Are you saying what I think you're saying? BM: It'd be smarter to tell the Heroes all this, but I highly doubt they'll trust our word. They may also punish us with extra severe sentences in Iron Heights for all our technological creations. Or worse. Putting us to work at a horrendous sweatshop for the rest of our lives. BM: We have ten more minutes before the race begins. That's enough time for us to devise a strategy to aid Green Arrow and Batman without their knowledge. You don't have to help me, but I would greatly appreciate it. CK: I'm in. I'm not letting some Arsch from outer space decide whether to destroy this planet or not. CK: Besides, even if Green Arrow finds out, I doubt he wants the world to know that he and Batman needed the help of two of the best villains just to have their little plan succeed >:) BM: Glad to hear you're on board. :) CK: So, what did you have in mind, Manta?

~~~

And just like that, the race had begun.

The Manta Ship lagged behind, everyone else's vehicles crushing it in speed and taking a shot at grabbing the lead. That was alright, as Black Manta needed time to prepare some gear for his and Clock King's plan to work. So, Black Manta engaged the auto-pilot and set to work on putting the finishing touches on a creation he'd taken a break from a few months ago. He just hoped Mongul either didn't see him do so or didn't care enough to call him out on it...

Meanwhile, the Clock King's Clock Bike stayed in the middle of the conveyances, just behind Green Lantern's car projection and to the left of Huntress's motorbike. The Clock-themed villain witnessed Plastic Man and his sidekick(?) stretch over most of the other racers, Steppenwolf shooting at the duo and promptly eliminating them from the race. He caught sight of a bright flash from behind him, and Tockman had a feeling that's how the eliminated competitors got to Warmoon and watched the rest of the race play out.

I hope for Manta's sake zat teleportation isn't any more painful zan how ve got here in ze first place. Tockman scanned the area for Mongul, keeping track of his surroundings and fellow racers. No time for zat zinking- I need to stay in ze race and find a vindow of opportunity. Once it shows itself to me, I'll use ze deactivation code ve made on Mongul's podium und make it look natural. I just hope I can find him soon...

As the race progressed, Tockman still couldn't find an opportunity to use the deactivation code. The well-built alien was nowhere to be seen, and the racetrack didn't have any ramps he could go up; any elevated areas he did find were too low to the ground, and with Mongul's whereabouts unknown, there was no point in driving up them.

Well, apart from the rush of riding up them. Which Tockman may have given into...a few times.

What didn't help was more people getting eliminated, making the chances of Tockman being next go higher; it was stressful enough to keep his and Black Manta's aid discreet from everyone. Being eliminated was not what he needed right now. The Clock-themed villain was glad it happened to anyone else (except, at the moment, Batman) but him.

Still, it was sad to see the Cat-themed villainess go; sadder was seeing Catwoman be coldly ignored by Batman, which hit hard for Tockman since he knew the feeling of holding unrequited feelings for a rival. (It may have been part of his plan, but Tockman made a note to hit the Caped Crusader extra hard the next time they clash). Regardless, part of Tockman's current predicament was solved when he saw Huntress drive up Catwoman's Cat Car like a ramp. Maybe once he'd located Mongul, Tockman could drive up someone's vehicle as a makeshift ramp. Of course, it depends on who was left once Mongul was found.

Opening the Villain Chat App, Tockman messaged Manta for help.

CK: I can't find Mongul anywhere. You?

Texting while driving may have been tricky, not to mention risky given the circumstances, but it was nothing Tockman hadn't done before. The hard part was shielding his screen from the sunlight and Green Lantern, who decided now was a good time to pull up next to him and scream insults. Tockman rolled his eyes, putting a hand to his ear and asking, "What was zat? You'll have to speak up. I can't hear you over ze vind."

The car projection's window rolled down, Green Lantern sticking his head out and raising his gravelly voice. "I said, 'You better be ready to taste dust, King Clock!' Cuz that's what you're gonna be eating once you're outta here!"

Tockman felt his eye twitch, sneering at the annoying Lantern. "Mein name is 'Clock King,' not 'King Clock,' you second-best Lantern!"

The bowl-cut redhead barked out a sharp laugh. "Potato, potahto. Either way, Clock Face, you better get used to the taste of-"

Tockman didn't even give the mouthy Lantern a chance to finish as he revved his engine and sped away, leaving a giant dust cloud in his wake. The sounds of Guy Gardner coughing and angrily cursing were music to the Clock-themed villain's ears. He smirked to himself as he got a message from Black Manta.

BM: I scanned the surroundings, and it seems he's keeping up with us as we race. He's approximately 90 meters off the ground.

Vell, at least I know vhere he is, Tockman thought bitterly. Now it leaves ze question of how to get close to him without raising suspicion. Und more importantly- how to get up zat high.

Another message popped up on Tockman's console, temporarily dragging him out of his musings.

BM: Wish me luck. If I'm not dead by the end, I'll pay for our drinks at the No-Name Bar.

Tockman really, really hoped Manta knew what he was doing...

~~~

In hindsight, it wasn't a good idea to let the auto-pilot take control for so long. Black Manta partially regretted his decision, but as long as he was ready for the next phase, he was more than alright. And, Manta had to admit- climbing up the raceway's walls instead of taking the intended path was fun; it showed that he made the right call to add that new grip system last week. Plus, it was comical to see Green Arrow's car swerved out of the way of his Manta Ship dropping in. Black Manta almost wished he hacked into its dashcams to see the look on Green Arrow's face.

Hacking into the dashcams would've been better than taking a dive from Joker's giant whoopie cushion's air current and letting his crowning-glory engineering achievement crash into the bottom of the canyon. Still, it was necessary for his and Tockman's plan to succeed. And it wasn't like Manta couldn't repair his ship after the race concluded (assuming it would be recovered). A more thorough inspection was needed, but the damage seemed surface-level. The explosion would need to be looked into, but it was likely more flashy than damaging; the Manta Ship had reinforced plating, and the windshield was extra-strong after that Pelican-Whale thing crashed through it during the bank chase.

Giving himself a quick lookover, Black Manta met Catwoman's testing smirk and gaze. To her right was Gentleman Ghost, who dusted off imaginary dust from his suit. "Welcome to the 'Locked in a Cage Club,' Manta," Catwoman purred in her honeyed voice. Glancing around, Manta saw they were locked in a cage with energy-based bars keeping them prisoner. "Pay no mind to the other members across from us, deary."

Manta looks across them at the other energy cage holding Plastic Man and his associate captive. The stretchy man looked glum as he sat on the floor, while the other male grinned and waved nervously at them. Turning back to Catwoman, Black Manta pointed to the waving man and asked, "Another admirer of yours?"

"Sadly, yes." Catwoman sighed, sagging her shoulders as she walked to the other side of the cage. "Oh, poor me. I'm always the one getting the most unwanted attention from people. Not that I expect you boys to understand. Especially you, Ghost Boy."

Gentlemen Ghost took offense to the nickname, starting up an argument between the two. Black Manta turned away from them and bit his tongue, knowing it was useless to argue against Catwoman; her teasing tone clued in that she was dramatizing her woes, which was enough reason for Manta to not engage. Besides, Catwoman almost always won every argument she was in, and it seemed to be the case again if Gentleman Ghost's attire changing to black was any indication. (That only happened when he was angry, excited, or willed it to occur).

Checking that no one was paying attention to him, Black Manta tapped the side of his helmet and analyzed the rods ensnaring them. The results showed that the bars were immune to all physical attacks but could easily be repelled by an electromagnetic pulse. Tensing his fist, Manta's rayguns appeared. With some minor tinkering, he shot out a weak electromagnetic beam that gave him enough time to throw his newly-finished creations.

Manta gave it a moment, checking for anyone suspecting him of foul play. Plastic Man and his associate whispered something to each other, Catwoman looked smug, and Gentleman Ghost glared at her.

No one even noticed. He had mixed feelings about it, but Manta was glad he went unnoticed by everyone, especially the Heroes. (Could Plastic Man's friend be called that? He'll have to chat with the Calculator about that). Checking the screen, Black Manta saw something that had him switching his helmet back to speech-to-text and messaging Tockman in a heartbeat.

~~~

BM: Mongul's close. He'll be hovering above Batman for a few seconds.

Tockman's eyebrows raised at Manta's message, quickly scanning his surroundings to spot the well-built alien. Sure enough, Mongul had come down from his spot in the sky and hovered just above the Caped Crusader's Batmobile.

And would you look at that? Green Lantern's cruiser lined up perfectly with Mongul's general location.

Clock King smirked, preparing the deactivation code as he passed the Lantern's car. He ignored its driver cursing at him and made a sharp U-Turn as he floored it toward the hero's car. Revving up, Tockman pulled a wheelie as he launched into the air and passed by Mongul. Time seemed to slow down as he revved the engine, sending the deactivation code to Mongul's podium. As he passed by, Tockman put on his best flirtatious look as he opened his clock face, locked eyes with him, and winked at the alien. Tockman will cherish the image of Mongul's face turning a deeper shade of yellow for years to come.

Landing on the ground and ignoring Huntress's and Green Arrow's annoyed cries, Tockman quickly returned to his original spot behind Steppenwolf. He was close enough to the racer to hear Mongul's transmission over the pumping pistons and the wind in his ears.

"Better entertain me, Steppenwolf, or I may have found a new Champion. And perhaps, a new companion, as well."

Tockman felt his heart skip a beat, his cheeks flushing under his helmet. Mongul was interested in him? The Clock-themed villain had only done that to make his stunt seem less suspicious, but...

Huh.

Well, Tockman did have to admit the alien was easy on the eyes if one were to exclude his choice in colors-

Wait- are he and Steppenwolf an item!?

Nope. That was a deal-breaker.

William Tockman is a lot of things, but a homewrecker is not one of them! Never have been, and he never will be. Scrawny men were more his type, anyway.

Tockman barely noticed Green Lantern getting knocked around as he was alerted to Mongul's shut-off control being deactivated.

~~~

CK: Mongul's switch is down. You're up now, Manta.

Black Manta's lip twitched upward- his form of a confident grin- and turned around to face the wall. Placing his hands on his hips, Manta switched his helmet's speech settings to the newly installed system. With his helmet still in speech-to-text mode, and double-checking it was so, the swimwear-clad man had no unease about talking out loud.

"Scan for the Silver-F15H." Manta slowly moved his head, his helmet's built-in scanner picking up on various minuscule bug-like microbots crawling in the cracks on the floor. Once he had all of the Silver-F15H confirm their connection to his helmet, Manta continued.

"Attention all Silver-F15H," He began, "Your objective is to integrate into Warmoon's mainframe, find the dual-lock system protecting its energy core, and shut it down with great immediacy. This is to be your top priority, as well as keeping out of sight from anyone and everyone. Am I clear?" The resounding beeps from the various microbots made him wince- Black Manta made a note to adjust the volume- but knowing his latest creation (which was heavily inspired by the silverfish Aquaman seemed to have a strong bond with) was working made him smile.

"Good," Black Manta nodded his head, before turning it from side to side in an attempt to mask it as stretching his neck. "Silver-F15H, go forth!"

And just like that, the Silver-F15H tunneled into Warmoon's circuits and mainframe. Black Manta kept track of his creations's progress, deciphering and saving any interesting information for a later date. Black Manta faintly heard Guy Gardner's gravelly voice ring out, but he didn't say anything nor react to it.

No one commented on it; no one ever remarked on his silence.

Tockman's my friend. Black Manta reminded himself, opening the Villain Chat App and concocting up his message's composition. He's counting on me right now, and once this is over and we're not imprisoned, I'm paying for drinks and dinner, too.

~~~

BM: The Silver-F15H are digging into Warmoon's mainframe. I'll update you as things progress. Good luck and stay safe.

Tockman smiled warmly at the message, tearing his gaze from it when he heard an explosion ring out. Looking at the source of the eruption, the Clock-themed villain nearly gagged when he witnessed a large, lime-green, mushy blob emerge from the site. Thankfully, it was just Green Arrow and one of his trick arrows at work.

Not sure if I should be glad he's alive or disgusted by vhat I've just witnessed.

"Fire retardant-foam arrows," The archer stated, sounding rather smug with himself. "Never leave home without 'em." The hero quickly took out his bow, loaded an arrow, and aimed it at Mongul.

"Maybe you should rename zem to 'Snot Arrows,' Archer!" Clock King called out as he passed, hearing Mongul's bellowing laughter behind him. What could he say? Tockman had a reputation to maintain. Plus, those arrows did look rather gross.

Tockman faintly heard his rival get teleported away, although a glance at his Clock Bike's exposed gears showed that the Archer hero had launched at least one arrow in Mongul's face. Humming to himself, Tockman looked over his remaining opponents. Huntress and Batman were fine- since they, or at least Batman, were playing distraction for the well-built alien- but the Joker was definitely someone who needed to go, right away.

Not just because Tockman found him to be an irritating, unfunny, Schweinhund, but also because the "Clown Prince of Chaos" was currently living up to his self-given title. Tockman rolled his eyes at the Joker's classic and overused driving antics. Throwing one of his trademarked Joker Fish at Batman's car, eroding Huntress's motorbike with an acidic squirting flower, releasing rubber duck bombs from the trunk heading right for him-

"DER MIST!!!" Tockman swore loudly, swerving out of the way of the cute yellow rudder ducks. He barely managed to avoid a direct hit, but the force of the blast sent the Clock-themed villain spiraling out of control. Slamming on the brakes, Tockman pulled on the controls as hard as possible as he prayed to not be eliminated. Upon seeing he was heading straight for the edge of the track, Tockman's heart sank.

Vell. At least ze Heroes have a chance at saving ze Earth. Kinda sad Manta and I von't be getting zose drinks...

Tockman squeezed his eyes shut, giving the controls and brakes another hard push and shove as he leaned the other way. He didn't even care about the race or the Earth or the Heroes anymore- William Tockman was not going to go out just because a Depp Clown College washout threw some explody duck toys at him. Holding his breath, Tockman's ears filled with the terrible sound of his Clock Bike's tires continued to screech against the track, dust clouds swirling around him as he awaited his fate...

Silence.

Silence filled the air around Tockman as he cracked open his eyes, biting back another swear when he realized how close he was to the ledge. Leaning the other way, Tockman's motorbike settled on the ground beneath them. Tockman breathed deeply, panting from the rollercoaster of emotions he experienced in just a few short seconds. Inhaling deeply, Tockman slowly let it out, resting his head on the back of his motorbike and letting the silence wash over him- No, no, wait. There's ringing in his ears. His tinnitus is acting up again.

Scheiße...

Resting a hand against his head, Tockman barely glanced at the Joker bouncing up from over the edge and proclaimed his excitement before disappearing. He did spare a moment to mourn the loss of his Friday, knowing the Joker would have him rebuild his car after this race. Sighing to himself, Tockman revved up his engine and continued on his way; Steppenwolf was still in the lead, and Tockman wanted to get a few punches in before the race finished.

If he saw some movement out of the corner of his eye, he'd chalk it up to seeing spots in his vision.

~~~

When the Joker teleported in, Black Manta admitted to being rather nervous. Not just because one of the most mentally unstable and unpredictable criminals in the underworld, nor because his very presence was an assault to most senses, but due to his intelligence. It was a fairly overlooked aspect of the clown criminal, but it was a trait Manta was keenly aware of. The Harlequin of Hate, as he liked to be called, made sure to not let Manta forget about that often-forgotten detail, especially that night in Blackgate.

Suppressing the urge to shiver, Black Manta checked on his Silver-F15H's progress in an attempt to ignore the Joker. They had just located the energy core's dual-lock system when the Clown Prince had begun playing dirty against Batman, Huntress, and Tockman. Now, it seems they had hacked their way through the first lock and were currently working on the second.

The swimwear-clad man was dragged out of his thoughts when an explosion rang out. Turning his head towards the screen, Manta saw the tell-tale smoke cloud of an explosion linger in the air. He faintly heard the polka-dot shirt man mutter, "She...She didn't make it."

Something in Manta shifted in that instant.

It was minor, but he felt it. The sharpening of his senses, the details becoming clearer- The best Manta could describe it was his brain opening up, allowing information to pour into it and be analyzed with a passionate intensity. With almost no effort, Manta witnessed everything.

Guy Gardner's face is frozen somewhere between shock and dread. Plastic Man's head hung from his elongated neck, sadness written across his face. The polka-dot shirt man was simply crushed.

The Joker laughed, arms holding his sides. Catwoman hissed at him to be quiet, her nails drawn and ready to strike. Gentleman Ghost crossed his arms at the pair, presumably rolling his eyes.

Green Arrow pulled the heel off his boot, removing a three-piece device from the molds inside. (Clever placement, Manta will have to replicate that). He told them all to focus, to mourn for their loss later. Arrow stands up as he calls them all over; the Joker peers closer in an attempt to listen better. Guy Gardner tells the Joker to buzz off.

Glancing back to the screen, Black Manta searched it. What he's looking for exactly, he isn't sure. But he knows it's there.

His Silver-F15H were nearly halfway done with the second lock. Only a matter of minutes before they finished.

Black Manta leaned closer, squinting at the screen. Fire engulfed the vehicular remains, eating away any salvageable parts and permanently marring them as scrap. Tockman's Friday was going to be filled with crafting Joker a new car, and his own Friday would be occupied with creating new weapons for the clown; Manta can already hear Joker saying to put the fees on his Tab, despite never paying for any of Manta's hard work and treating it the same he treats everyone around him- Like garbage...

Mongul came into the screen, feigning sympathy for Huntress's supposed death. The act was quickly dropped when he made a comment about a Death Race needing a death in it. No one paid Mongul's comment any mind. The Joker merely quipped about Mongul being right before laughing at his own poor humor. Catwoman gave him a Look, which made the Clown quiet down, though he was still grinning.

On the lower right-hand side, Black Manta saw a few pixels pass by.

~~~

Tockman was starting to think Mongul and Steppenwolf really are an item. Or, at the very least, was.

The reason he thinks that? Well, getting shot at by the former's tank-like vehicle was a pretty big hint.

Perhaps flirting I should've taken my chances with the stunt, instead. Tockman made another series of sharp turns, weaving between blasts as he sped faster. Or perhaps I shouldn't have cut him off when I made a grab for ze lead.

"Would you mind not blasting at me?!" Tockman called over his shoulder, finding it harder to suppress his thick accent with his frustration rising. Steppenwolf glared at him, clenching his teeth as he began firing at the Clock-themed villain again. Tockman groaned, the wind keeping the sound from being carried over. "Zis is going to ruin my bike's handles und controls after zis."

Hopefully, Manta's little nanobots vill be done vith ze lock soon.

Tockman got his answer when he received a notification from his best friend. Opening it, he scanned the message and activated the sound-proof domes on his Clock Bike. The German man felt a strong force emanating from behind but merely heard muffled screeching. Breathing a sigh of relief, Tockman got another message from the aquatic villain.

BM: The Silver-F15H are through. The locks are down and the heroes are making a grab for escape. BM: I've taken a video to watch for entertainment later.

Tockman grinned, both at the news and the prospect of watching something the heroes have done. He went to message Black Manta about recalling the little things- something he was probably doing already- when an explosion brought Tockman out of his thoughts.

Sparing a brief glance at his bike's exposed gear's reflection, Tockman nearly felt his heart stop when he saw the Batmobile engulfed in a plume of smoke. The vehicle wasn't moving, and he didn't see a flash of light teleporting the masked vigilante inside it out. The feeling was disregarded as he caught Steppenwolf's manic grin and eyes that screamed "You're DEAD!!!!"

Der Mist...

The dread pooling in his stomach only lasted an agonizingly long second, as Tockman saw a familiar Bat-Motorcycle appear. Luck seemed to be on his side, as Steppenwolf switched focus to the racer behind him. The alien racer turned his vehicle around, firing everything he had at the motorized vehicle. Tockman glanced between him and the finish line, which was just coming into view. Tockman glanced down at the controls, contemplating his decisions.

Finish the race, or give the Batman a chance to win?

Weighing his options, Tockman sighed, lowering the sound-proof domes on either side of him and backing up.

If it gets Steppenvolf off mein back... That's what he told himself, at least.

Setting his Clock Bike on auto-pilot, Tockman exited his seat and jumped onto the back of Steppenwolf's tank. He slowly and carefully climbed up the raygun and held on for dear life as the speedy tank whirled around to face forward again. Thankfully, his ride was set to always follow his position and avoid obstacles, so it was perfectly intact. Tockman made his ascent again, standing on top of the stout ray and waiting for the perfect time to pounce. Tockman watched as Steppenwolf lined up his attack for Batman and muttered under his breath, "That's it, Batman. Just hold still a second longer."

Well, now that was just too good an opportunity to pass up.

Tockman tapped Steppenwolf on the shoulder, the yellow-skinned racer turning around in time to meet the German man's fist. Tockman rained punches on the alien, screaming insults at him and saying, "This is for trying to fry me earlier," and "This is for blasting at mein bike," to make it seem like a petty squabble taken too seriously. Steppenwolf fought back and Tockman had to give the guy credit- he knew how to throw and block a punch. Those blows were definitely going to be felt for a while after. Good thing Tockman was no slouch in combat; all that time imprisoned and training with Black Manta seemed to be paying off.

Unfortunately, that didn't stop Steppenwolf from pinning him against the ray gun's muzzle. Even with his helmet on, Tockman could smell the other male's breath and what has this man been eating??? Biting down on his tongue, Tockman suppressed the urge to quip about the man's poor dental hygiene as he laughed. The darkness it harbored sent chills down the Clock-themed villain's spine.

"Finally," Steppenwolf hissed, eyes wide with manic rage. "Once you're out of the way, Mongul will be mine once again." Tockman recognized the jealous undertone instantly and tried to placate the man.

"Relax, mein Feind. I'm not interested in your boyfriend. I'm a, how do you say, player vhen it comes to hearts. He's all yours." Tockman's words did nothing but make Steppenwolf bash his head against the muzzle's side, a large crack running down his helmet's clock face.

"Liar," Steppenwolf hissed, his voice low and threatening. The angered racer leaned in closer, Tockman's cracked helmet face making it look like there were two of him. "I saw you winking at him earlier, and I know that Mongul's been losing interest in me ever since I lost the title of War World Champion. He's had his eye on Bat-Meat ever since he bested me, and now you come along with your- your fake royal robes and- and y-your fake accent?!?" Steppenwolf's anger grew, his voice cracking and rising as he spoke. Although, Tockman saw the sadness and pain in his eyes.

Mongul's been losing interest in him? Scheiße, no vonder he's mad.

Tockman's attention was taken when he heard the sound of a vehicle fast approaching. Steppenwolf did too, as his eyes tore from the villain's prone form to-

"Ze Batmobile?" Tockman questioned, watching as it drove closer to Steppenwolf's tank.

Sensing what was about to happen, Tockman kicked Steppenwolf off of him and dove for his Clock Bike. Landing on its roof, the villain swung from the top and into his seat, settling into it as he switched back to manual controls. Backing away from the tank, Tockman swiveled around just in time to watch Steppenwolf crash unceremoniously into a rock.

"For ze record," Tockman called back to the eliminated racer, "My accent is real! I just sound like zis so people can understand me better!"

Tockman crossed the finish line, stopping just behind the Bat-Motorcycle. Climbing out of his seat, Tockman looked up in time to lock eyes with the Caped Crusader himself. The Clock-themed villain straightened up under his gaze, much like how he did whenever his mutti gave him the Look in his youth. Batman (thankfully) turned to face the Bat-Motorcylce's driver, who was revealed to be the not-dead Huntress!

"That was fuun," Huntress commented, standing from her seat. "Let's do it again."

"It was nice to race like zat again," Tockman muttered, his mind drifting to his wilder, youthful days. The heroes gave him a weird look, obviously having heard him.

"Bravo, and brava," Mongul boomed as he grew closer, slow-clapping as he continued. From here, Tockman could see the shiner on Mongul's right eye; it was turning into a nasty purple-ish color, and it looked painful to keep it open. "You ran a magnificent race, ruthless and cunning, all that I could've asked. One of you going above and beyond, even," Mongul gestured to Tockman, who had to suppress the disgusted noise from his throat. "And you certainly humiliated my champion and companion."

Tockman watched with a mix of revulsion and outrage as Mongul fired at Steppenwolf, knocking the man to the ground. "My ex-champion and companion, that is." Mongul corrected, smoking rising from his hover-podium's built-in laser. "Unfortunately, I really have no use for a troublesome, hero-laden world such as Earth. So I'm still gonna blow it up! However," Mongul hovered closer to the ground, stepping off his platform as he walked closer to Tockman.

The Clock-themed villain took a few steps back, not that it made a difference since Mongul's legs were longer. In a few steps, the yellow-skinned alien was standing in front of him. Leaning halfway down, Mongul reached out a hand toward Tockman, palm facing up.

"I am willing to take on a new companion, see as how my old one has proven to be...obsolete." Tockman's jaw dropped at Mongul's words. From the edges of his peripheral vision, Batman and Huntress felt the same. Mongul smirked at him as he continued, "Of course, since you've proven yourself capable of surviving an array of disasters, and shown decent fighting skills, I've decided you're more than qualified to be his replacement. What do you say?"

Wow, Tockman thought in disgust. The Clock-themed villain is very grateful Green Arrow had shot Mongul when he did. If that blackeye wasn't there, Tockman may have been tempted to say yes. But since his personality was slimy and he'd just said he'd only take William on as a replacement for Steppenwolf, well.

SMACK!

Batman gaped, Huntress gasped, and Mongul looked stunned. Tockman rubbed his head, seething at the alien before him. His shoulders shudder with each breath and his blood pressure rising, Tockman coldly and venomously spoke, enunciating each word.

"Hell. NO."

~~~

Batman had no idea what to do.

Well, no, that's not true. He has a few ideas of what to do, but he's not sure which one is the best route to take.

His knee-jerk reaction was to punch Mongul for not only asking the Clock King to be his partner but also for asking him in such a backhanded manner. The less emotional reaction was to get into his Batmobile, switch it to Exo-Suit mode, and unleash hell onto Mongul. Another, though less likely to work option, was to step in and stop the Clock-themed villain from screaming German insults at Mongul as the latter grew progressively more angered.

"Batman," The Caped Crusader snapped out of his thoughts, noting the worry in Huntress's voice. "Are you going to stop them before Mongul kills Clock King?"

Batman looked back to the scene, eyebrows shooting up as he saw Mongul grabbing the Clock King by the sash, hoisting him up a few feet off the ground. Whatever the Clock-themed Villain was saying, his words faltered as he was forced so close to the taller alien. Batman reached for a Batarang, and Huntress took out her crossbow and loaded it.

"Drop him, Mongul!" Batman called. Mongul turned to the Bat-themed hero, opening his mouth to say something when-

BOOM-BOOM!!!

Right. I'd nearly forgotten about that.

Batman smirked as he relished in Mongul's stunned expression, involuntarily releasing the Clock King from his grip. The Clock-themed villain bolted from the yellow-skinned alien, faster than Batman had ever seen before. What surprised him was that Clock King was heading towards Steppenwolf, helping him off the ground and talking to him.

Hmm...

~~~

"Are you okay?" William asked, watching Steppenwolf dust himself off. The German man vaguely heard Mongul cry out to his destroyed Warmoon, which satisfied and wiped away some of the ugly anger from earlier.

"I'm fine," Steppenwolf grumbled, crossing his arms and not meeting William's eyes. "Why do you care?"

"You vere shot by a laser and knocked back und into to ze ground," William flatly stated. "Of course, I vas worried! If that vere me, I could have died; it's a miracle zat you aren't."

"My armor more than protects me," The goateed male said, rolling his red-on-black eyes. "I'm not fragile, unlike you, Earth Meat."

"Hey, I'll have you know, I'm incredibly strong und resilient for a man my age. Most men vould be experiencing muscle and joint pains, as vell as losing zier muscles, but you don't see zat on me, right?" William held up his arms and flexed the very healthy strength his arms carried, grinning as he saw Steppenwolf's face turn a deeper shade of yellow and his eyes widen. Chuckling at the other man's expression, William continued, "But, I suppose more to ze point, I vanted to apologize for earlier. The whole, 'winking at Mongul' zing, I mean. I honestly didn't know he was taken; if I had, I wouldn't have- as the kids say- laid it on zick with the flirting."

Steppenwolf blinked, stunned at Tockman's words. Vaguely the sounds of Mongul threatening death on everyone and lasers firing rang, but they paid it no attention. The other man sighed, shoulders sagging with the motion.

"To be fair," Steppenwolf began, rubbing his arm, "I suppose I should've listened to you earlier when you said you were a partaker."

"Player," William corrected.

"Right, that." Steppenwolf sighed, growling as he continued to speak. "Regardless, this whole race has shown me that...perhaps it's time to...move on from the companionship I have with Mongul."

William hummed in agreement. "I'd say as much, yeah. Seriously, zat guy has some nerve. Who in ze hell breaks up with someone just because zey lost some title? Not to mention asking someone to be a 'replacement' for his ex. Honestly, I kind of regret not knocking out a tooth just for zat."

Steppenwolf chuckled, his lips turning upward. "...I am glad you slapped him, Clock Meat. And um. I apologize for damaging your headgear."

William smiled, resting a comforting hand on Steppenwolf's shoulder. "It's nozing to vorry about, Steppen. I can just replace the clock face once I'm back home. You know, give or take prison time."

"Ah, I see...'Steppen'?" The alien questioned, raising a brow.

"It's a shortened version of your full name, Steppenvolf," William explained. "We call zem nicknames, und zey're used between friends und families."

Steppenwolf's eyes widened at that, pointing between the two of them and asking, "We- We're friends??"

"Vell, unless you vant to be enemies again," William joked, before quickly adding, "Although, if we do, you von't be able to meet some of ze guys I know. There's a cute one in particular zat I zink you may be interested in~."

"...what is he like, exactly?" Steppen questioned, his curiosity piquing.

"Hey, you two!" William and Steppen were startled at the sudden voice calling them. Turning around, the Clock-themed villain spotted Green Arrow and Plastic Man heading towards them. The Archer held up his hands, "We're not here to start anything, alright?"

"What do you vant?" Clock King asked, gesturing between him and Steppen. "We were in the middle of a conversation."

"Well," Green Arrow began, crossing his arms. Plastic Man rubbed his neck nervously, his skin squeaking as he did so. "Bats and Black Manta were talking after knocking out Mongul-"

Ah, so zat's vhy it's so quiet. William thought with great satisfaction. Vish I could've seen it.

"-and since we all saw that sack of crap's proposition to you earlier," Green Arrow shifted his weight, discomfort etching onto his face. William doesn't blame him for feeling that way, nor Plastic Man for making the same (if exaggerated) facial expression. "They came to a compromise."

That caught William's attention. The Batman making a compromise? With a villain???? Wait, no. Arrow said it was Black Manta who talked him into it- it checks out. Manta could probably get all his shopping done for free if he tried. "What type of compromise?" Clock King asked, hesitant and suspicious.

"N-Nothing bad!" Plastic Man reassured, stretching his hands and neck closer to Tockman. "Well. Nothing that'll worsen your sentences, anyway, eheheh."

Ah, so ve are getting arrested after zis. "I'm listening," William said, Steppen nodding in agreement.

"Well, according to Guy, it's gonna be at least five minutes before a transport ship arrives to take Mongul and Steppenwolf to Oa." Green Arrow stated, loosely gesturing to the Green Lantern. "And he's already told the guys there Mongul's had the crap beaten out of him."

"Mongul doesn't look that bad," Clock King said, before clarifying, "I mean, aside from a black eye and my handprint on his face."

"Yeah," The Archer crossed his arms, smirking. "And it'd be pretty bad if Mongul didn't look the part, now would he?"

William's eyes widened, his mouth dropping open. Steppen seemed to have connected the dots as well, since he asked, "You're allowing us to beat the hell out of Mongul?!"

"Black Manta was the one who had the idea," Plastic Man answered, stretching his neck closer to the bearded man. "Bats was against it at first, but then Guy called the other Lanterns and told them that Mongul looked like someone who fell off a mountain, so he caved and allowed it. But only until the transport ship comes." Leaning closer, Plastic Man added in a lower volume, "Between you and me, I think Bats wants to get his fair share of licks in as well."

William blinked, shaking himself out of his daze. "Well, I have to say, that's fairly generous of you, heroes," Turning to his new friend, he asked, "Vell, what do you say, Steppen?"

"Of course!" The bearded man exclaimed, a mad smile crossing his face. "I have some...unresolved feelings towards my ex-companion I'd like to clear up."

"Don't get it twisted," Green Arrow warned, voice stern and eyes narrowed. "If any of you think you can take this chance to murder the guy, then you're wrong. We'll let you rain hell on him, but killing Mongul is not on the table. So much as make a move to do so, and we'll end it right then and there."

"Well then," Clock King smirked, propping a hand on his hip. "I suppose you'll have to keep an especially close eye on us then, Green Arrow."

The Archer's lip twitched upward, quickly smoothing his face into a stern look. "Yeah. You can count on that from all a' us."

"In that case," William began, stretching his arms over his head. "Vhat are we waiting for? Let's give Mongul what he deserves!"

Steppen cheered in agreement, following William as he strode back towards the gathered heroes and villains. The villains had already begun wailing on Mongul, with Green Gardner (and Plastic Man joining him) holding the hated alien down. Unsurprisingly, Huntress (who's well-known for her extreme methods) shot at the yellow-skinned alien's legs, eliciting a cry that had the German man wincing from the appearance alone. William handed Steppen his sword, telling the mildly confused man to press the small button on the hilt; he smiled at Steppen's look of awe as he ran towards the fray, Gentleman Ghost and Catwoman making space for the scorned ex.

William spared a glance at Black Manta, who was firing weak blasts at Mongul's bruised face. Manta looked at Clock King, side-stepped to make space, and went back to blasting Mongul's face. William smiled, heading to stand beside Manta and kicking the alien's head when Manta wasn't blasting at him. Which was nearly every five blasts with Tockman standing beside him; William kicked Mongul's head five times before letting Manta blast Mongul.

"Those drinks will have to wait a bit," Manta quipped.

William snorted, rolling his eyes fondly. "Vell, it wouldn't be ze first time, now would it."

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blankdblank · 1 year

Text

Poke Pt 1 - The Winter Soldier

@devilishminx328. @theincaprincess, @lilith15000, @jesevans, @jiminapickle

Hey guys, this is the rewrite of Poke! Chapter One and the fun continues! Hope you like the new way Bucky and Pluto interact compared to the original go around when they meet in the middle of the invasion. 25 chapters written so far and it's so much fun, can't wait for you all to see it as it grows. :)

As always let me know if you want on or off the tag list or what you think so far.

Camp Lehigh, New Jersey. Hours of operation for tours of Captain America’s training stomping grounds were posted on the front gate. Past that in the dark of the night a tactical gear clad group of nine passed armed to the gills and in search of a glowing Vigilante, Misique. Black and yellow armor styled after a yellow jacket, what the name translated to in Latin, supposedly she was the one who had targeted once known Jyllania Vladiskarskova, code named The White Dove, born Pluto Lagertha Pear. The child with a familiar face to the eldest Winter Soldier who had seen red at the word that his prized pupil was being targeted by the Vigilante while on her first solo mission.

This seclude place was where the team had located the target. Out here, not for the first time, but the third time this year so far. Hydra had a hidden hold here within a secret SHIELD backup of cold files from the birth of the organization. But as far as the team could tell there was no clue as to what the target ever came here for since their trip wires had never been touched to warn of her knowing of the secret hold here at all. An assumption was made her secret base was kept here to use the protection of both the notoriety of the Cap’s history here, SHIELD’s and Hydra’s to keep what they hid here safe within the overlap of protection.

Barrack buildings lined the pathway that led to a heat signature they were tracing with aims to ambush. Just a paintball like ball, unseen in the night air to the men wearing night vision visors, burst against the chest of the lead man. Colorful gas that exploded to a twenty foot diameter within a second dropped the dozen men around the Winter Soldier to the ground while the latter struggled to not succumb. Bent forward however inside the mist a familiar knock of a boot into the side of his was his last memory before the colorfully cloud hidden world went dark to the Winter Soldier.

“All yours,” you said gripping the arm of your former teacher. In a hunch you hoisted his body up over your shoulders to the pounce of Symbiotes in wait that devoured the others, and then did as they had planned to cough up the trackers in the oddest of places to send Hydra chasing their tails. Masked and blind you hastened for eleven feet back into clear night air. Left solely in the dark under watch of your cluster of hidden bees on patrol you removed the mask that slipped into the open tear in your jeans.

Up a set of steps you trotted with ease even with the 200lb over six foot body slumped across your shoulders to let yourself inside the munitions building you sealed behind you. Deeper inside the building a bookshelf was grabbed to slide aside revealing a hidden staircase down to a numerically locked door with a keypad. Back to the side you moved the shelves then turned to head down to the door that for you opened itself as you said, “Mark Antony, go for it.” Not since the blip had you been able to set this wildfire bee loose, and after being named the target of your former teacher, Pierce had broken the terms of his warning and would pay dearly. He tried to take your new life away for a second time and now permanently you would take his away.

Already you had a cot ready for the man you lowered onto it, taking his fleshy arm to cuff to a well anchored metal bar around a raised platform floor section, knowing what his initial response would be when he woke up after a gas attack. And before he could wake with a roll of tools laid out already the vibranium left arm he had was removed so you could disassemble it. Asking a bee to search into the shoulder mount and his collarbone destroyed the tracking device anchored on the latter.

Settled back onto a nest shaped chair the arm laid across your lap. The bee shaped communicator earpiece hidden inside a small tray within the red star painted on the arm was removed to be scanned by your bees for the usual damage it would receive from the cryo chamber. Trackers were negated by the field barrier inside this hidden space you used to cut off Hydra from what happened inside when you were here as SHIELD labeled it as practically fossilized for usefulness.

One twist of a tool and like chain mail snakes sections of the arm began to collapse into lengths that coiled in their falls to the floor around your feet. And out of your new tassled messenger bag you’d found in your favored second hand shop to replace the one the trip back to 1963 had ruined a trio of jars was brought out to open. And with the coiled linked parts of a new black vibranium arm for your teacher were expanded to fit together again closer in appearance to an arm from their snake like current shape.

At least it was somewhat warm a good deal underground. Just in a baggy sweater pinned by a secretly pocketed vest, wedge boots and torn jeans you dressed for an easy slip into crowds after this planned ambush. He was dressed warmly in layers with just the top half of his face and his metal shoulder joint so he didn’t need one of the blankets that were folded underneath his head to become a makeshift pillow.

Gradually his breathing had deepened and with eyes off the new arm his body flexing in a series of tests of his bodily control was your signal to lower the now completed arm to your side. Just barely the angle of his arm had his close eyed self shift to test his inability to move his arm then snap his eyes open.

“Hey Star Boy.” Right to you his eyes snapped as you said, “Had to take their tracker out of your collar bone too.” Still masked he kept his eyes fixed on you as you eased off the chair to crouch at his side. “Mind if I take off your mask?” He shook his head and lifted it a bit so you could ease hands around his head to remove the clip holding the mask over his nose and mouth. “Sorry about the gas, but I take it there’s a great deal you weren’t told when they sent you out here.”

“What is your mission, White Dove?”

And you grinned at him, “No mission. There’s a great deal they made you forget. Would you like to remember what they wanted you to forget?”

“Yes.” He said and you lit up settling a hand on the side of his face igniting his eyes in return. For a few moments the light lingered as all their work to trap his mind and keep what they forced him to do was gone while a warmer past stolen from him came flooding back and right away he knew just why he had taken to you as a child. “What’s your real name?”

“Pluto Lagertha Pear. Would you like me to uncuff you now Bucky so I can give you a new arm?”

Tears began to prickle into his eyes hearing his real nickname from his former life from you, “Yes please.”

“Now,” you said reaching over him to unlock the cuff from his wrist leaving the other end linked to the pole. “I suppose I should explain something,” as he sat up you settled the key at your side and said, “Okay, there was this AI with a crystal body but the mind of a clone of Hitler.” You said parting his lips. “Few Christmases back he snatched a group of people, me and Tony Stark included. I got sent back to 1938 and Tony to the middle of the Cold War.”

“So you’re Chickadee.”

And you smiled to his playful smirk, “I am, but SHIELD has taken the excuse she’s from an alternate dimension and just has my face and a similar past coming here to keep this version of her safe.” That had him chuckle and you rolled your eyes. “Which brings up the question, you did an interview for an article on me.”

Again he chuckled, getting lost in the feeling of having his emotions back and feeling actually safe and happy to be with you as he had felt in that first meeting with you so long ago before he was captured. “They paid $80, wanted a lovesick story. Helped my Ma out. You killed Hitler for me.”

“That is debatable, whether he was in that Nazi castle or not is debatable. History claims otherwise. If I made anything confusing-,”

“You were a kid who, you lit up dancing, you were not very good,” he said with a chuckle making you grin in embarrassment, “You caught on, but, even terrible you lit up like something else on that floor.” A seriousness flooded into his eyes painted with remorse, “All I could think was somebody hurt you so bad, to light up like that, and I hurt you.”

Catching his eyes you said, “You apologized, even when they had you drugged, you apologized.”

A tear broke down his cheek, “I wanted to tear you out of that tomb. I have never, heard anything, like that scream.”

Onto his shoulder above is missing arm your hand rose to rest, “I forgave you each time you apologized. You taught me how to fight, taught me to play the weaker one and my size to advantage, taught me to stop flinching. You taught me how to save myself when I knew even SHIELD was never going to, and if they hadn’t put you back on ice I could have taken you out then. I’m sorry James, it’s been four years since I left Russia.”

Just slightly he leaned in to seriously say, “You never, ever, apologize for saving yourself from them. I’m not the first they sent after you, am I?”

“Few people, Cooper was, last year,” you said making him smirk as you said, “He kicked Pierce through a wall when he tried to give the code words to him alone. They won’t work on you, neither will the gas, not anymore. Left a failsafe in your brain against them.”

“How is Cooper?”

“Good, with his family, niece was shadowing me a while before he was cut loose. Technically they were after tech called an Orca box, and he happened to cross my path. Aside from that it’s been the odd mercenary or a couple Widows.”

“He told you about Pierce?”

“Few months after I got out Pierce tried to gas me. I broke every bone in his body,” you said making him smirk, “Then I made him walk coated in bees right into SHIELD HQ as I blew up his properties and erased his life and that of his daughter’s and her son and his mistresses. Just enough trouble to remind him what I can take away if he came near me again. He steered clear since then, Cooper took me to a hospital where Pierce and Nick Fury came to check on the men who were there from the day, oh you’ve missed some fun stuff. There are creatures named Titans that box can speak to, they think it controls them but it just pisses them off, found out I can talk to them. And you should have seen his face when Project Insight failed, we call it the Blip. Three carrier ships hovering over the world Hydra wanted to use to obliterate any threat to their rule and I hacked it to wipe out criminals all over the planet in seconds. They couldn’t stop it and the world forced them to ground and destroy them. I kept making the videos, should help you catch up to the main fun things.”

“Four, so, eighteen?” You nodded as you turned to grab the arm you finished assembling and readied to attach it into his shoulder joint as he asked, “You in school?”

While you attached his arm basics of life so far were shared warming him up to how you had survived and built a mini family and group of allies were shared until you said, “Got a surprise for you. You need fresh clothes first.” Once on his feet he accepted the clothes he noticed were left on a desk and behind your back removed his leather top, gloves and pants to pull on the jeans, tank top, long sleeved shirt resting atop a cargo jacket. Smiling as he had taken hold of his earpiece your bees carried to his reach that inside a new hidden tray in his arm only able to be opened by him and you he secured it. Keeping that gift from you enabling him to translate your videos with ease and reply secretly in his own and be tracked by you in case he needed help.

“Done,” he said walking around to your front adjusting the sleeves of his long sleeved shirt to pull on his new jacket. After you stood he helped you to gather your things and his discarded rifle and mask to walk with you up to the shielding building not even stealing a look back at the jar of his old arm. Out in the night air he caught scent of the impending sunrise by subtle hints in the air and asked, “Your friends took the others somewhere secure to dump them?”

“They’re dumping the trackers, Symbiotes eat people.” You said making his brows lift in a glance your way making you giggle as he finally took notice of your height, even with heeled boots, and how tall you stood at his side compared to the last time he’d seen you in person.

“Had a growth spurt summer after the blip traveling with Eddie. Whole six inches.”

“Look at you,” he joked and chuckled to your giggle continuing to walk with you to wherever you wanted to take him. “Where’d you end up befriending cannibals again?”

“Technically they’re carnivores, they come from the planet Klyntar and latch onto humans for a Symbiotic relationship, link to the digestive system to help supply a steady stream of food as their bodies are designed to be linked to other creatures. They adopt their histories and culture and all of it. Eddie and Venom lived next door and then I met Venom’s kids while out on a forced lunch with Harry Osborn, they froze the whole building to pass through unseen. Try not to draw attention when they can help it, Venom’s the main one people have seen and they assume he’s a weird powered human.”

“Okay, question, why is this base giving tours?” he asked passing a tour gathering area sign he pointed at with his new black vibranium hand with faint golden seams he not so secretly adored the look of that you had gone for mimed after Kintsugi, your shared favorite style of pottery.

“Steve trained here.”

“Yes, but why are there tours?”

“Because partly SHIELD needs the tour location as a cover for the hidden former base of their organization and also, he’s still their number one propaganda man.”

“Still?”

“Oh ya, been trying to get him into art lessons, man needs a hobby. Big time, can’t sleep, clearly has trauma. Ooh, I booked you a slot with my therapist.”

“Now?”

“No, Thursday,” you said giving him an appointment card from your pocket he looked over and pocketed as you said, “They’ve helped me a great deal. Don’t think Steve is the talk it out type, more the suppress it till you snap and murder a room of children while trying to beat a single person to death who stepped on your boot type.”

Unable to help it he chuckled, “Ya, his old man did a number on him. Mine was no picnic but, apples to oranges, I had a family after I helped Ma kick Pops out.”

“Well, what did you want to be?”

Breathily he chuckled and said, “Used to like stories, never had time to write them down before they would leave my head. Boxing, was easy, used to getting hit and friends like Steve gave me ample practice to punch people between matches. I was training to be in real estate. I could give that a shot again.”

“I think you might need to be sitting down when you start to look at the average prices in New York now.”

“I did pick up some stories while under the gas, inflation’s a killer. There’ll always be a housing demand though, pretty steadfast profession. Study up, current situation and then go to get licensed again, or, for the first time but officially. Never actually tested last time around, enlisted.”

“At least you have a distraction beyond the gym. I do have a theory he won’t try to talk to me now that you’re out and about.” You said hopping over the bar welded gate to his hip that he sat on and swung his legs over for an easier move for his stature.

“What did he do?” he asked with a smirk and you looked up at him, “He did something I know that tone.”

“He’s rude, and self centered. Just uses talking to me to get hints on you. No hesitation back in the war to go save you but now, he’s just been sitting around waiting for me to give a green light x mark on a map for them to hit.”

And with a hint of amusement in his tone he said, “You doubt his loyalty. He’s just dumb,” he said making you giggle to yourself at his own chuckle. “Used to be small and stupid, now he’s big and stupid. I’ll get him to accept some help if I have to drag him along and tape him down.” After another glance your way he asked, “You have shell shock?”

“They call it Post Traumatic Stress Disorder now. PTSD, ya, bought a boat shaped bed from a play at the theater I work at during summers, so I wouldn’t have to sleep on the floor anymore and wouldn’t be afraid to wake up chained down to my bed.”

“Now that bed sounds adorable,” he said watching you unlock the restored bus he climbed inside as you did. “Does it get easier with therapy?”

“To an extent. The earpiece will help you sleep if you need it. Things still make me anxious and uncomfortable but there are tricks to help keep calm or even warning signs to isolate until the panic fades. Most literature on it shows it never fully goes away but it gets easier. For me confidence in starting over has helped.”

Through the dark you followed the road lit solely by the headlights for a time until the sky began to lighten the closer it got to sunrise. “Your gramps is really an Earl?”

“Ya, mainly runs a fishing boat company though. But they do dabble in racing boat teams.”

“That is wild.” He said, “And, you’re bonding with your family?”

“Spent the last two winter breaks and part of last summer in Norway and Sweden partly for that.”

“What’s the hardest part of being out?”

“Catching up, I would say. Nothing odder than a kid who doesn’t know how to bond with other kids over basic things that are so culturally well known. Most of it I can put off that I’m not from around here.”

“Hence the accent?” he asked playfully.

“It was easier to pretend I didn’t know English to avoid people. I’m not the most social of creatures.” You said making him chuckle. “Being Scandinavian is a big part of my life, learning who I came from to shape my family line from here.”

“Family line, I thought-,”

“I heard they were moving me to take my ovaries, that’s why I left. Tried to give me plastic surgery and even donate my organs to Widows, everything said the surgery wouldn’t take but they wanted to try anyways and I wasn’t going to risk it. They killed my parents and failed to kill me but I refuse to let them think they can end my bloodline.”

“What’s the surprise?”

“You’ll see.” You said making him chuckle and sit back chatting about what was on the way or even the music on the radio he turned up a bit as you hit the first bridge.

Morning had dawned and into a packed car lot for a cathedral terribly familiar to him in Brooklyn the pair of you climbed out and to your side he moved in a tangled internal maze between fear and confusion as to why you were here. All the same with you he went up the front steps and through the door you opened to hear the pre-Easter mass going on just beyond the entrance hall. At the bowl on the wall plainly out of habit he crossed himself and watched you ease the well oiled and less noisy door of the two closest into the hall of worship to slip inside. Popping on your bolero hat as you did.

Hushedly around the side of the back of the pews a seat was found with a glance of acknowledgement from the Priest, who at least noticed you on a couple occasions sneaking in that he took as a possible new member to the faith who now had company. He naturally gave a hint of a head nod in return for Bucky’s without breaking his sermon. A quiet welcome to the stranger now accompanying a slightly more recognizable stranger, though he did steal a few more glances in wonder to where he might have seen them before. At your side Bucky took his seat and stole a quick glance your way in the cross of your ankles when your legs were barely too short to reach the ground thanks to these deep pews they had in the back.

Lowly in Russian you whispered to him so no one in the actually occupied pews in front of you could hear, “Fifth row, two o’clock.” Ahead he looked with eyes following your direction and heavily his heart gave a thud recognizing, at least faintly who it was. Name by name of those you knew were whispered through the fall and ease of his metal hand atop yours to take hold of it, hold of something to ground him here. “And the one in purple behind them is Jamie with her friends. She’s a tray holder for blessing rings in weddings here. She’s also a terrible spy.” Unable to help it he teared up and took solace in your silence as he calmed down again with knowledge of why you’d brought him here.

Until mass let out after the sacrament you both remained seated for the pair of you were glued to the spot. Presumably for the Priest to wait to speak to him then until he watched you lead the larger figure who stepped out of the pew first up to the family who usually lingered so their child who participates in ceremonies here gets spare details. Right to the identical twin women who were nearly to their 80’s you led the way with his bulky self being led along by that same hold of his hand to the family who hadn’t yet noticed anyone was behind them.

He couldn’t speak so you did, “Miss Benjamina, Miss Bernadette Barnes.” That caused a silence for the duo who turned and over your head up at a ghost the pair of them stared with eyes matching his.

Sharing a gasp then both uttering in broken elation and shock, “James!” The lost brother the Priest knew of now clearly with the child who had known how to get in touch of him was engulfed into his family that kept the teen here against a try to slip away. Right back to the family home they kept up decades after he had gone to war and never come home. They led the way to share the usual meal and hear from the two guests how he had gotten back home and hopefully that he would choose to stay in his old room they updated but kept open for him just in case since learning he was alive.

“Okay, got your bag in the bus,” you said luring him with you when he had been told he could live there and take up his old room with his sisters and their grandkids who were in college.

“You got me a bag?” He asked in a sentimental tone taking hold of it to sling the strap over his shoulder.

“Why wouldn’t I? I know your measurements, color scheme weaknesses, and there’s a list of good food, second hand shops nearby, I mainly shop in Queens by my place. I do have an early shift at the book shop but I will be at the gym tonight if you’re up for it. Your old stomping grounds, Steve is usually there. Oh, and got you a phone.” You said handing him a sidekick like yours, “Linked to my network so it’s free and you get YouTube and all the social sites and internet. And one more thing,” you said making him chuckle at the card you handed him.

“You got me a library card. Thank you.”

“On the phone you can link to their rental network of films, shows and even old records.”

“Thank you, this will help me catch up. Can I drop by sometime?”

“Always, drop me a line I bounce around and I’ll let you know where I am. For now, enjoy family time.”

And he gave you a warm hug, “See you tonight, Pluto.”

“Have fun Lucky Duck,” you said making him chuckle at the use of the nickname you used for him while on mission when he didn’t like the name assigned to him.

You’d barely taken a step away and Jamie had blocked your way to squeeze you in a tight hug. Then promptly turned taking her uncle’s arm to guide him inside and help him to get his room ready so that she and her cousins could show him around town as she promised to see some of his old haunts and how they had changed. She wanted to show him off as did the rest of his family and now you’d done your part all he could do was hear the sound of the bus pulling off the drive to head back to Queens.

Atop your hand you had written the word ‘bus’ to not forget. An amusing word for people to pass by and take notice of, including your manager who chuckled as you said you’d driven here and didn’t want to forget the vehicle and head home on foot.

“Bus,” MJ said lifting your gaze from the shelf you were lifting the end of to help others scoot it onto a set of wheeled mounts to move to another area. She had just locked her end into place and you grinned.

“I drove here. Trying to not forget it.”

“You got a bus? Oh, the one from summer trips the old VW outside!” She said with a chuckle all her own.

To the other side of the shelves you moved to lift that end for Cindy to push her wheeled mount. “Yes, easier when we’re on a trip, out here I just forget even if I park it in front of the door.”

“Do you like fusion food?” She asked and you looked at her as the others readied to push the shelves to where it was going now the heavy beast was on wheels. “Peter and Ned said they’d come over for lunch but Peter dropped out saying he got a call to meet Tony Stark for some internship he got into last minute.”

“If I’m not allergic I’m always up for food. Ned drop out too?”

“No, he’s avoiding his Gran, keeps pestering him about being a dentist.”

Jokingly you told her, “You mean the young man who spends a suspiciously large amount of time at the dentist would not like to go into that profession?” Making her chuckle. “Told Peter once his appointments could be cover for a second life somewhere.”

“And he didn’t believe you,” she said with a nod, “How adorably naive of him.” Joking back for you both to giggle and turn to get the next set of shelves up on wheels. There she eyed the hand you had surgery on you squeezed the middle finger to pop the knuckle that still occasionally tried to be stubborn in popping. “Hand alright? I can give lifting a try.”

“Hand is good, just doesn’t like to pop on occasion just to spite me.”

“Any clue where that Doctor ran off to?”

“A monastery in Nepal not far from the one my uncle is at.”

A chuckle escaped her and she asked, “You have an uncle in a monastery? Like out in a mountaintop somewhere?”

“Ya, have another in the desert who eats cactus and has a opiate problem, neither of them are too letter friendly since it old them I wasn’t dead and all. Took dad’s disappearance badly, well, beyond badly. Did get an advertisement for a new truck though, think he was trying to hint at something,” you said chuckling again making her smirk your way. “But I’m a bit too short for a dual wheeled beast like that.” And pointing at her you added, “Always did want to drive a monster truck though.”

“Everyone wants to drive a monster truck. I grew up with Grave Digger posters in my wall.”

“Best way to do it, for myself one of those little Hot Wheels copies, only a buck but I love the little thing. That one and the dog one,”

She nodded as you lifted the end of the shelf for her to push the next platform under that end. “With the ears. You can tell monster truck drivers are just really tall kids.”

When that set was being moved she looked at you as you asked, “Team ready for Washington?”

“Ya,” and after a nod she said, “I gotta know, you said something to Flash. He’s actually been nice to Peter, for a solid stretch since you came to Pete’s with that pie.”

“Sometimes all we have left of our parents is the name we carry. Peter said it, his parents are legally dead like mine are.”

Widely she smirked at you, “You guilt tripped him. Found the cold codfish had a weak spot and you jabbed a pin in it.” Making you giggle.

“Clearly you haven’t been paying attention to the rumors about me at school.”

“Oh there’s a fairly big one on why the cheerleaders hate you so badly. Some girl tried to pick a fight with you and got kicked out.”

“Beverly did try to pick a fight, terrible at blackmail though. School didn’t make her leave her family did when the press got wind her dad was part of one of the purges.” You said dropping her jaw.

“What’d he do?”

“Used the family kid center to pick targets for abuse,”

“No way,” she whispered.

“Paid the families off to keep it from the press. Was generational he had other men in the family who did the same. She left now her friends keep bugging me imagining they bother me.”

“So they’re totally abuse apologist, that is so twisted.”

“Well they’re sticking by their friend, admirable, no matter how horrid the core of the spoiled brat born with a silver spoon and bushel of entitlement. Beverly really didn’t start bothering me till Harry came around and I pushed him off trying to buy my affections.”

“I never got that appeal in being bought. I get the comfort of all you could ever dream of, but I don’t think I could do that.”

“Suppose it comes down to nature vs nurture. Grew up seeing money solved everything, money is everything so anyone without it or scorning it must be weeded out.” You said making her smirk again. “I just want a Hobbit lifestyle, cozy home, seven meals a day and nice peaceful life to do small good things and then grow old and die.”

“Singing to the choir,” she said shaking her head. “Throw in that monster truck outside for the weekends and I am in the same town as you for retirement.” She said making you chuckle and check the diagram off a table nearby of how the new kids section was to be shaped and what was left to move to accomplish the ideal end product.

*.*.*

Remains, all that listed the contents of drums of evidence pulled from Pierce’s home. Unanswered calls and several hours of being unable to contact the man who neglected to come into work but was seen collecting his family and even nightly companions to come to this now blood painted house were being taken for testing to see what was what.

Seated speechless and staring blankly Pierce was found inside a room with just a number carved into the surfaces and his exposed torso on what he could reach, unexplained but an exact count of how many children he had ordered killed and tortured. Clearly he inflicted those wounds upon himself by the angle and lack of carvings where his now removed hands could have reached. Paired up to the lone clue of computer a printed spreadsheet of names, dates, locations, and series of numbers and dashes that kept printing off to make the paper stack grow that agents would rush to keep the supply of paper full until it was completed in its task of printing.

Those hand free arms were pulled by the agent who found him out of a bucket of acid he had also used on his feet. Even if he wanted to there were no words for why he had done what he did. All his money and properties by his own hands gone by flame or hasty donations. Everything taken and threatened from him years prior now gone by his own actions.

Silent, broken and unhelpful, the former brilliant agent left only with his life to spend in a cell for the rest of the time he was given would sit in reflection physically and mentally trapped. With only his memories to keep him on the cusp of death until naturally he could be claimed as he would find later even tries to end his suffering would be kept from him as well.

No one could uncover just what his message meant, although the group who had been watching him for years did a quick inventory on where Misique had been, and more importantly where Pluto was to ensure he hadn’t hurt and stashed her somewhere as well. All while the secretive backbone of Hydra inside the secretive organization subtly made a head count to see who was being promoted and learn their next set of orders in this abrupt turn of their cart and buggy.

“These are missing children’s cases,” the words that only had sentiment for the man all but shatter as to what was going on.

One number after reference to an old file was checked and Fury went himself to Queens with Nat piloting the jet seeing the missing person file for Pluto Lagertha Pear within that list. The female former child assassin Natasha herself shaken at having found her own name on that list only worsened the possibilities of what this meant.

Frantic for confirmation that his personal task of keeping watch over this young scarred prodigy was safe as much as now one confirmed of involvement in her abduction and possibly murder of her parents was not for nothing and she was still far from danger following the work schedule he knew her to have.

Pt 2

#Escaped Child Assassin #Bucky Barnes #Loki x oc #Barnes Clan #Dead Man #Secret Plots #MJ #Nick Fury #Natasha Romanoff #Found Family #Rewrite #Marvel

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