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calaofnoldor · 3 years

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Sixth Time’s the Charm [4]

(GIF credit: @teamfreewill-imagine)

Characters: Sam x F!Reader, Dean

Words: 6,107

Series Summary: All the times Dean has tried to get Sam to admit his feelings for you. (Each chapter can be read as a stand-alone.)

Chapter Summary: You offer yourself as bait for a shapeshifter hunt. Things do not go as planned.

Warnings: canon level violence, language, idiots in love, mutual pining, huffy!sam, protective!sam, slight angst?, slow burn, fluff

A/N: i am SO sorry for the wait (story of my life) but to make up for it, look, 6k words! (yeah i’m sorry about that too, i don’t know what happened there.) written for @tvdspngirl314‘s birthday writing event with the prompt “You ever feel like that? Like you were just destined for someone?” which is bolded in the fic. this also fills a square for @spnfluffbingo!

Square Filled: Rescue Mission

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The fourth time was all you. Dean barely had to lift a finger. The result, however, was far more traumatic than he had planned and rather emphatically revealed the magnitude of his brother’s feelings toward you.

Much like the previous attempts, there was a case: a shapeshifter going after women who conveniently happened to fit your description. The strategy was obvious, and you’d leaped at the opportunity to both make yourself useful and hopefully take the place of what would have otherwise been the next innocent civilian victim. But of course, Sam resisted at first.

“No. Absolutely not! We don’t know enough about this guy for you to just jump into his waiting arms, Y/N!” The fervent indignation in his tone and body language was palpable. Sam was rarely one to raise his voice or sport much of a temper at all really, but lately these heated outbursts seemed to be occurring more frequently, and frankly you were getting sick of it. The false hope they momentarily granted you through the notion that perhaps he cared about you as more than a friend was one thing. What’s more, the way his voice lowered half an octave combined with the sight of his flared nostrils, puffed chest, and straining jaw always seemed to have a sideways effect on you, in that it was impossible to keep your attention on his words alone. But boy did you try.

“Sam, how many times do we have to go through this? I’m a big girl; I can take care of myself. And your wrist is still healing so it’s not like you can call the shots on this one anyway. Besides, I’m not going in alone. You and Dean will be there for backup the whole time, right?”

“’Course we will, eh Sammy?” In a strange turn of events, Dean often appeared to be the one with a more jovial outlook recently.

Sam merely nodded and continued his heavy breathing. He glared down at his bandaged left wrist, the result of skirmish with a couple of wraiths, as if it were the root of all his problems. Then he looked up and through densely drawn brows, those magnetizing multicolored eyes pierced yours, his countenance bearing a charged and sullen expression of pensive exasperation as his jaw visibly tightened. You swallowed and could not for the life of you find the will to look away.

“So it’s settled then,” Dean proclaimed jubilantly, “Unless… you’ve got another reason you don’t want Y/N playing bait, hmm Sam? Maybe something you wanna share with the class? Or, you know, I could leave…”

“Dean, stop it. You’re not helping,” you quickly admonished before steadying your gaze back on the taller Winchester, “Look, Sam, have I ever let you down?”

“No. Never.”

“And do you still trust me?”

“Of course,” he responded immediately in a ‘what-kind-of-a-question-is-that’ tone, at which you simply raised your eyebrow to send him a reciprocating ‘then-what’s-the-problem?’ look.

“OK fine,” Sam huffed out a big breath, “But you’re not taking any risks! Anything seems off at all, just… promise me you’ll wait for me and Dean and keep us in the loop?”

His pleading eyes were so earnest and you’d truly never been able to say no to the giant puppy before, so you offered him a little smile and said, “Cross my heart.”

Sighing, Sam rubbed his face, looking lost in thought for a moment until he spoke up again, much more reserved and hesitant this time, “Do you still have that uh… ring from… that time?” Dean muffled a snort at his brother’s expense but you both ignored him, completely accustomed to his nonsensical teasing by now.

“Uh yeah, I- I think so.” The uncertainty in your voice was a lie. Of course you still had the ring you’d once used to pretend to be married to Sam Winchester. You may or may not have tucked it away in a special place for safekeeping.

“Good,” Sam nodded curtly, “I want you to wear it. It’s silver. I’ll wear mine too and Dean already has his. That’s how we’ll know that we’re still… ourselves.”

“OK, yeah that’s a good idea,” you agreed, trying your hardest not to linger on the memories.

“Well look at you two! Getting hitched again so soon-“

“Shut up, Dean,” you and Sam cut him off together.

When the meeting was adjourned and you were about to part ways to prepare for the upcoming hunt, something inside you forced you to call out his name, “Oh and Sam!” He turned around at once, questioning gaze somewhat urgently searching yours for a sign of what might come next. You stuttered though, feeling suddenly self conscious, so the next words you uttered were not much louder than a whisper, “Be careful with your wrist.”

Sam smiled, his dimples making your fingers twitch with the need to caress them. “I’ll be fine. You just look out for yourself. Remember, we’ll be right behind you.”

Somehow you both didn’t hear the groan Dean emitted as he rolled his eyes to the ceiling and prayed to whoever was listening, ‘Good lord, someone give me the strength to survive another day with these imbeciles.’

There was only one diner in the tiny Pennsylvanian town, and seeing as you were starving by the time you got there, the three of you were forced to make do with soggy fries and questionable milkshakes. As you ate, you went through your game plan once more, which essentially consisted of waiting until nightfall to visit the bar from where the previous girls had gone missing, while Sam and Dean shadowed you covertly.

Before you left, you took a quick trip to the loo and when you returned, Sam was stood outside alone, a broad smile upon his face.

“Where’s Dean?” you asked as you began to walk out the diner, expecting to find the older brother waiting impatiently in the parking lot by his precious car, but the Impala was gone.

“He went back to the motel, said he had something to take care of and that we should go scope the place out first.”

“But I thought we agreed to-“

“Yeah, well change of plans, you know how it is,” Sam replied casually with a shrug.

Little red flags started fluttering in your head, urging your eyes downward to locate the silver band on his finger. You frowned when you found it there untouched on his right hand; Sam almost never interrupted you, not even when he was absorbed in the foulest of moods.

Apparently sensing your hesitation, he added, “I mean, he made a good point. Maybe if you familiarize yourself with the surroundings first, you’ll be able to take the guy out faster.”

Sam was still smiling at you, but it felt all wrong. You couldn’t explain it, but there was something missing from his rainbow eyes. The colors were all there, but they lacked luster and warmth, a delicate twinkle that you’d learned to associate with the beautiful, heroic yet self-doubting giant of a man. Never had you seen that breathtaking magic replicated elsewhere, nor had you ever seen Sam without it, which was why you were almost completely certain that the man before you was not the real Sam Winchester.

But weaving within you was a thread of doubt, insisting that you couldn’t just pull a gun on your best friend because of something as trivial as… a feeling? No, you needed to test your theory. And so, bracing yourself with a deep breath, you slowly reached out your silver-equipped hand to do something you’d grown accustomed to resentfully abstaining from: touching Sam’s bare skin. You aimed for the large target of his hand, deeming it the most inconspicuous of places (given that he was wearing his hunters’ uniform and the only other visible option would’ve been his face or neck), but Sam was faster. Just before you were able to graze his skin with your ring, he caught your wrist in his much bigger hand and pulled it away, twisting your arm until it was locked painfully behind you.

“You think you’re smart, huh?” the shifter snarled with a flash of its eyes, moving in real close as he used Sam’s immense size and his own superhuman strength to easily constrain you.

Even so, you stared up at him defiantly, unafraid, “Sam and Dean will be back.”

“That’s the plan.”

Sam’s sneering face and threatening voice were the last things you saw or heard.

You had no way of determining how much time had passed when you unceremoniously came to in what looked and smelled to be an underground sewer. As your senses sharpened and your muddled brain began to size up your current plight, you nearly scoffed at the clichéd style of your captor. Sat on a peeling wooden chair, manila rope bound your wrists together behind your back and tethered your ankles securely to each of the seat’s front legs.

Ignoring the ache in your head, you set about strategically testing the knots and the integrity of the wood. If only you could reach the silver blade in your boot. But your attempts were interrupted by the reappearance of the shifter, whose shoe hit something as he stepped before you. A metallic clang echoed through the confined space as a result and you followed the sound to find your coveted knife on the ground, far beyond your reach.

“Fucking hunters, always think they’re so clever, always one step ahead because it’s their game. Sure, we might be the monsters but you’re the predators! So let’s see how you like being the prey for once.” Shifter Sam’s upper lip curled up in a way that seemed so foreign to you as he leaned forward to rest his hands on either arm of your chair, caging you in.

The malicious glint in his eye left you with no qualms about affronting this being who, for all intents and purposes, appeared identical to the man you’d recently discovered you were in love with. Lifting your chin, you glared up at him brazenly, “If you’re so keen on being the predator then why am I still alive? What are you waiting for?”

“Why your knight in shining armor of course!” he exclaimed, backing up as he stood to his full height and gestured to himself with both hands. “You think it was a coincidence that all those women looked like you?”

The shifter’s narrowed eyes were alight with amusement and a ripple of fear surged through your body. You were in much deeper than you or the boys had anticipated, though years of practice helped you keep your voice steady and bold, “What did you do to them?”

“Oh, I gave them a fairly painless death, don’t you worry. They were just stepping stones on my way to you. See, the Winchesters owe me a girlfriend, so I figured I’d take the closest thing to theirs. But imagine my joyous surprise when I got into this big lug’s head and discovered that he’s in love with you! No, actually it’s more than that. He’s obsessed with you; you never leave his brain! Every other thought and memory is about you... Well, it’s either you or his brother, but oh, it’s gonna kill him to see you die before his eyes. I might’ve been able to replace my dead girlfriend, but I don’t think Sam here will ever come back from losing you.”

Stunned into silence, the stupid influx of misguided hormones pumping through your veins forced you to focus on maintaining a neutral expression as he rattled on.

“And you feel the same way, don’t you? So this really will be a double kill. It’s OK, you can let it all out. I might be a monster but I’m not one to deny the dying their chance for some last words. Besides, you can say it all while looking into the eyes of the man you love.”

“Fuck you,” were the only words you could trust yourself to spit out at him.

‘Sam’ laughed, but it was nothing like the laughs you normally pulled from him. It didn’t radiate like sunshine or replenish your soul with glee. Rather, it was chilling and conniving and despite the mimicry of Sam’s beautiful voice, you immediately decided that you never wanted to hear it again.

“Not feeling too talkative, huh? Or maybe you’d rather wait until he gets here in the flesh to make that anticlimactic confession of love? That’s alright, I can just tell you more about this dumbass’s feelings for you.” The shifter chuckled with delight, as if every word brought him nothing but pure joy. “Man, he loves you so much, it’s insane. I’ve never been inside the skin of someone so in love. And I thought I really loved my ex. Afterall, this whole revenge thing is for her. But I gotta tell ya, I’ve got nothing on Sam Winchester. Did you know he thinks you were made specifically for him? You ever feel like that? Like you were just destined for someone? Cause Sam does. That’s how he feels about you.”

“Why should I believe you?” you challenged, growing tired of the inadvertent response his words were eliciting. Your heart was pounding in your neck, core trembling at the mere possibility of Sam genuinely feeling the way he’d described. But you knew better than to trust a monster, and one who was in pursuit of maximal vengeance no less. Still, those rose-colored thoughts resonated within you, and you stumbled to dismiss them as they bubbled up, one after another like a game of emotional whack-a-mole.

Shifter Sam smirked, “Yeah, you’re a cynical one, aren’t you? You know everything he said in that marriage counseling session was true. You kinda hurt his feelings when you just brushed it all off. Even big brother Dean’s been trying to get him to confess his love for you. You must’ve heard them arguing about it at some point? They weren’t exactly being discreet.”

Choosing not to respond, you simply scowled at him.

“No? Still in denial? Perhaps you need details… You ever notice how he always sits across from you whenever you’re doing research? It’s because he thinks you’re gorgeous when you’re focused, and it gives him an opportunity to admire you without getting caught. And why do you think he lets you call him Sammy, huh? Yeah, he might not let it on but he fucking loves it when you do, makes him feel all tingly inside. And you remember that cop who hit on you? Captain Anderson, was it? Sam wanted to break the guy’s nose just for touching you. Oh and why do you think he asked you to move into the bedroom closest to his? It’s so he can keep track of your nightmares. He likes to keep you close because it makes him feel like he can protect you better when you need it.”

By now, your ‘neutral expression’ must have surely mutated to betray your shock, and you couldn’t have answered if you tried. The shifter didn’t seem to mind either way. In fact, he appeared to be having the time of his life.

“And it’s not all pure thoughts, let me tell you! Oh man, buddy boy here has dreamed up plenty of X-rated scenes with you, ranging from obnoxiously romantic to just plain obscene. You name a position and he’s imagined it, in high-definition detail,” he embellished, tapping an index finger against his temple, “His mind is like a library of pornos starring the two of you, although he’ll never get to live out any of his fantasies, will he? It’s a shame really; some of these are really hot... Ooh, I’ll have to borrow that one,” he said with closed eyes, as if a figment of Sam’s imagination was playing through his head in that very moment, “Maybe my girl and I can re-enact it while we’re still in your skins-”

“Shut up, just shut up!” you finally bellowed in protest.

Sam watched the bathroom door attentively after you’d disappeared through it, unable to contain the upward jerk of his lips when he saw you walking back out of it. Heartwarming relief had become his body’s intrinsic response to seeing you safe and sound.

“You ready?” he questioned when you made it to his side.

“Yeah, I’m good.” God, even the sound of your voice made him happy.

Once you got back to the motel, Dean plopped down onto one of the full-size beds, exhausted from the drive. Within a matter of seconds, snores began to fill the room, and Sam chuckled under his breath as he sat down around a wobbly table with you to continue your research on the shifter’s victims, hoping to find something else that linked them together or a clue as to where they might’ve been taken.

It wasn’t long before you inhaled a revelatory gasp and abruptly clutched Sam’s wrist to show him what you’d found. But your grip was harsh, causing him to hiss in pain and do something he’d never before done: recoil from your touch.

“Oh, I’m sorry, does it still hurt?” you asked nonchalantly, smiling up at him innocently.

Worse than the pain in his fractured wrist was what felt like sirens blaring in his head. You were always hyper-cognizant of his injuries and exceedingly careful around them, sometimes even more so than himself. Sam looked you over subtly, eyes landing on the silver ring still upon your finger. Perhaps his mind had been playing tricks on him and all that tender attention he thought you’d shown him was simply a mirage of his own wishful thinking?

“It’s fine, I just wasn’t expecting it.” Sam sent you a tight smile, to which you responded with a dazzling one of your own. It was beautiful but something about it felt off. In the past, you apologized profusely if ever you found yourself the accidental cause of his discomfort, no matter how indirect or insignificant the case, but right now there wasn’t a single speck of concern in your eyes. Indeed, the more he looked into them, the more he struggled to recognize the person staring back at him.

In a flash, Sam had you up against the wall, a silver blade held against your neck. He looked down to see the metal sizzling there, burning your flesh, and cursed himself for failing to notice sooner.

The noise woke Dean from his slumber and what he saw when he opened his eyes was equal parts shocking and amusing. “Whoa! At least wait till I’m out of the room! And isn’t that a little kinky for your first time?”

“Dean, it’s not her. She’s not Y/N,” Sam grit out, “She’s wearing the ring but she’s not Y/N.”

His brother’s brows knit together as he rubbed the sleep from his emerald greens. “Wha- How did you know?”

“She was acting… weird.”

Dean scrambled off the bed, making a quick call on his phone to ensure you really were missing. He paled when a robotic voice over the line told him the number he was trying to reach was no longer in service.

It was then the shifter decided to speak up, “You know, the real Y/N would have liked this, you pressing her up against a wall?” she murmured suggestively.

“Shut up. Where is she?!” Sam slammed her body against the flimsy motel wall once more and dug the knife in a little deeper. In his panic-stricken state, he barely registered her remark, being driven entirely by a one-track mind at present.

Shifter Y/N grimaced slightly, glancing down at the knife, “Maybe if you stop cutting into me with that, I might consider telling you.”

“How did you get the ring?”

“Oh, this little thing? You like it? It’s imitation silver, but otherwise nearly identical to the one on the real Y/N’s finger. You see, we’ve been following you for a while now.”

“Who’s we? Where did you take Y/N?!” he demanded incessantly.

“My boyfriend’s got her, but don’t worry, he looks just like you so I’m sure she’ll find her accommodations to her liking,” she retorted with a smirk.

Sam’s heart lunged in his chest and his mind began whirring with endless possibilities of escalating dread. Had you been deceived and captured by a shifter pretending to be him? Were you being hurt or tortured by someone who looked exactly like him? How would you ever be able to look at him the same way again? Of course, you’d know it wasn’t Sam but the damage would still be done. You would forever remember his face as that of someone who once hurt you, who tried to kill you. That is, if Sam could make it to you in time.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get to see her one last time. That’s actually why I’m here, to take you to her when the time is right,” the shifter added casually.

“I will end your miserable fucking life! Tell me where she is right now!” Sam roared before pressing the blade further into her neck, the veins in his forearms ready to burst through his skin.

“Hey, hey! Sammy, ease up! We need her alive, alright?” Dean bounded over to his brother and after quite the struggle, managed to assuage him enough to release his vice grip and replace it with silver chains that shackled her to a chair.

“Sam, maybe we should also be asking ‘why’,” Dean mused as he fastened the end of a chain against one of the beds.

With a shake of his head, Sam avowed through grinding teeth, “I don’t fucking care. I have to get to her.”

“And what if it’s a trap?”

“Then I’ll find her myself.”

Dean scoffed in disbelief as he turned to his usually wise and level-headed little brother, “Oh yeah, and how’re you gonna do that? Where would you even start?”

“I don’t know!” Sam exclaimed in exasperation. Then, after a pause of desperate deliberation alleged, “Shifters like to make their lairs in sewers, right?”

Taking a step closer, Dean maintained his challenging tone, “So what are you gonna do, just wade through the entire town’s shit and piss until you find her?!”

“If that's what it takes, then yes!” Sam looked like he was about to eat his brother alive.

“Aww, that’s so sweet,” shifter Y/N interfered from her seated position before them, raising her chin to meet Sam’s eyes, “Don’t worry, handsome, I can tell you she feels the same way. But unfortunately, by the time you get to her, I don’t think she’ll be able to tell you herself. In fact, you’ll probably hardly recognize her anymore… so you might want to keep me around, if only as a souvenir of your soon-to-be-dead girlfriend.”

Sam couldn’t contain himself anymore. Despite looking like a carbon copy of you, the evil gleam in the shifter’s eyes made her easily differentiable, and so Sam held back nothing when he lunged across the distance, knife in hand ready to do some real damage. However, Dean pounced with him, having predicted his brother’s violent eruption and felt his shaking wrath, knowing a little too well just how rash he could be when it came to you. Still, it took all of Dean’s strength to pull Sam back, sending him a stern but knowing look once he did.

“Sam, stop!” His low voice rumbled as he went into authoritative big brother mode, “Listen to me, you wanna save Y/N? Well so do I, but this is not how we do it! Now I know it’s hard, but I need you to calm down, alright?”

Sam’s massive chest was practically at his chin as he heaved ginormous breaths. Though his body language was still offensive, his hazel eyes were filled with fear and devastation when they looked toward his brother, “Dean, if I don't get to her in time, I’ll...” Clenching his jaw, Sam made a fruitless attempt to calm his tremoring frame and quell his tumultuous emotions. What would he do? Sam wasn’t even sure himself. All he knew was that every cell in his being was currently screaming at him to get to you, to make sure you were safe and soothe away any of your pain. There was nothing he wouldn’t give in that moment to simply know you were alright and to hold you in his arms. He knew you could look after yourself, but for once he had a terrifying feeling that even you were in over your head, that you might actually need him this time, and he’d be fucking damned if he let you down.

“Woah! Hey, hey! Sammy, look at me! That ain’t gonna happen, alright? We’re gonna find Y/N and we’re gonna bring her home in one piece, you hear me? We’re the Winchesters, man! We’ve faced the end of the world. What’s a couple of shifters got on us?”

‘You,’ Sam thought, ‘They’ve got you.’ But he appreciated Dean’s pep talk nonetheless and nodded in response as a fresh surge of determination swelled within him.

“Alright then,” Dean nodded as well, “Why don’t you let me give her a go?”

As Dean’s silver blade cut into the detained shapeshifter, Sam flinched with every moan and howl of agony. He knew it wasn’t you, but she still had your voice and your perfect face. Yet not a second was wasted on the feeling of relief when they finally managed to get a location out of her. Sam nearly tripped over himself in his haste as he snatched the Impala’s keys and his gun before flying out of the room with a jumbled order for Dean to stay with the monster.

“Well, if you’re not gonna admit your feelings for the giant lumberjack, I guess you’re right. Maybe I should stop yapping and get to prettying you up for that first and last date of yours, huh?” Shifter Sam prodded your cheek with a switchblade.

You said nothing. At this point, you had a sneaking suspicion that physical pain might be more bearable than the psychological torment your imprisoner had been so keen on. It was one thing for you to torture yourself by entertaining the slim possibility that Sam might return your feelings for him, but to hear such outrageous perceptions from a creature who could read the inside of his mind like a paperback novel, and conveyed with such tantalizing conviction… well, it just about broke you.

And knowing that the shifter was yearning to coax a confession out of you simply to cause Sam as much anguish as possible made you more resolute about your refusal to submit, beyond the need to protect your own sanity.

One shiner and a slash to the thigh later, however, you heard a loud clash. Shifter Sam paused his handiwork and began to turn around, “Could your knight be here ahead of schedule?”

‘Dammit,’ you thought. The Winchesters were usually capable of being stealthy when necessary but in case it really was the sound of them making a blunder or encountering some other form of resistance, you figured you’d buy them a distraction.

“Wait, wait! You’re right, OK? Maybe I do feel something for Sam, but even if I told him, I think you’re forgetting… This is Sam fucking Winchester we’re talking about here. He’s been tortured by the devil himself. You really think killing me is going do much damage?”

Your abductor had now given you his full attention, leering at you with a sly smile, so you continued, “Besides, you picked a fight with the Winchesters; don't expect to live to see tomorrow.”

Right on cue, a hulking blur of hair and plaid came barreling in, growling ferally as he grabbed the shifter and threw more than one brutal punch against what appeared to be his own face. The silver ring on Sam’s hand made contact with skin and his shifter counterpart groaned in pain.

You nearly forgot about your ceaseless work of untying the rope that cuffed your wrists together as your looked on in shock. Why Sam hadn’t just shot him with a silver bullet was beyond you. He was smarter than this. There was no need to drag out a monster’s death if a more efficient option existed. But as he continued to engage his clone in hand-to-hand combat, it appeared almost as if he was venting his frustrations on the shifter, as if he drank up every ounce of hurt he was able to inflict. But his high only lasted so long and shifter Sam soon regained his balance, making use of his supernatural invulnerability and superior strength.

“Sam!” you screamed as the shifter threw him across the room.

He tumbled up just in time as the shifter meandered over, “So nice of you to join us, Sam. You know, Y/N here was just telling me about-“

Sam didn’t wait for him to finish, choosing instead to tackle him to the floor with a loud grunt. While they wrestled on the ground, you worked furiously at the knots behind you, wincing with every hit Sam took though it was becoming hard to tell them apart.

When Sam finally drew his gun, the shifter was able to divert its barrel and a shot rang out futilely. Catching a subsequent elbow to the ribs had Sam falling to his knees and you watched in horror as shifter Sam once again gained the upper hand, sending the gun flying out of Sam’s grasp. The binding around your wrists was just about undone when Sam seized a stray rusty pipe and swung it against his counterfeit. Shifter Sam was incapacitated for a brief instant but quickly returned to form with some vicious hooks and a couple of well-placed knees.

With your hands finally free of their restraints, you staggered over to the gun, the chair still attached at your ankles. As you took aim, you shouted, “Sam, get down!” before you shot his mirror image through the heart.

Sighing, you slumped to your hands and knees whilst the real Sam sat up with his back against a wall, gaping at you with a look of awe. Yet before he even caught his breath, he was up and gliding toward you, cradling his left wrist at an awkward angle.

“Sam, your wrist!”

“It’s fine, are you OK?” he swiftly dismissed your concern, cupping your face with his good hand as he examined the darkening bruise around your eye.

You ignored the palpitations in your chest and placed a hand upon his wrist, “Yeah, I’m fine. He wasted more time playing mind games than anything. You know villains and their monologues,” you joked, trying to ease his tension and the deluded self-imposed guilt you knew he must’ve been brewing in.

As if to prove your point, Sam lamented, “God, I’m so sorry. I should have known. I should have gotten here sooner.”

“What? No! They were miles ahead of us, Sam. The whole thing was a set up; this was their hunt. How could you have known?”

Rather than replying, he released a breath and busied himself trying to help you out of your binding.

Back at the motel, after icing your eye and stitching up your thigh, you insisted on re-wrapping Sam’s wrist while Dean took care of shifter Y/N’s remains. But when the older Winchester returned and spied you and his brother sitting together on a bed through a crack in the door, he couldn’t resist the chance to exercise his espionage skills.

“How did you know she wasn’t me anyway?” you asked as you gently wound the ace bandage around Sam’s swollen forearm.

“I just…” He looked down at your nimble fingers upon his skin and smiled unwittingly at their tender touch, “had a feeling.”

Sam’s sunflower gaze locked onto yours for a frozen instant and something about his soft expression made you forget what words were, until he cleared his throat, “Did you um- did you know he wasn’t me?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, smiling for some strange reason. Perhaps you were just glad to see his trademark twinkle return to those otherworldly eyes. “Pretty soon after actually. I… had a feeling too.”

Sam’s dimples made every ache in your body disappear as that twinkle glistened in full force, “And how’d you know which one to shoot?”

Well, that dampened your mood and brought you back to the task at hand, “Oh, I don’t know, maybe because you kept grimacing every time you used your left wrist?” Although your words had a bitter force behind them, the pressure beneath your fingertips never increased and Sam had almost completely forgotten about his pain.

You, on the other hand, were reminded of your struggle to reconcile with what had happened since his question prompted a restored and growing frustration.

It had been bugging you the whole time and you felt compelled to confront him about it because storming in alone with a bad wrist, ready to throw hands with an out-of-his-league monster was really not Sam’s style. Something must’ve gotten into him and with everything the shifter had told you, you couldn’t help but wonder. Nevertheless, you were a little afraid of how he might answer, so Dean had to lean in closer to hear your next words.

“Why didn’t you just shoot him?”

“W-what do you mean?” Sam stammered out after a pause.

“Sam, you have a broken wrist, but instead of sending Dean or using your gun from the get-go, you came in like a madman and went after him with your fists!” Your voice was full of incredulity though it also carried an undertone of anger.

As Sam picked up on that reproachful tone, you could almost feel the telltale signs of his puppy dog eyes coming on. “He used my face to deceive you, to hurt you. They manipulated us. I had to- ...I mean, he killed those women just to get us here. He had it coming!”

Your hopes plummeted. Of course, Sam was ever the righteous man. Why would you assume his brashness had been purely born out of a need to avenge you? Though regardless of his reason, you were still upset about his self-destructing behavior, “Yeah, but you had to have realized you were in no position to be the one to give it to him, right? I mean, you might’ve looked the same but he was juiced up on monster superpowers, Sam… which meant he was stronger and faster, not to mention uninjured, in his own territory, and apparently the only one with a sound plan.”

A breath of laughter left Sam’s lips though there was no smile on his face. Here he’d been on a mission to save you, but you were the one who’d ended up saving him, again. You must’ve thought he was comically stupid and pathetically useless. How could he possibly think he was worthy of you? “I guess I should thank you for saving my ass again, huh?”

“What?! No! That’s not what I mean. Sam, you’re the one who saved me! And I’m beyond grateful for it, really I am. I just wish you didn’t hurt yourself more in the process.” You finally finished up with his wrist wrap, securing the final ends with a clip, and letting your hands linger on his for longer than necessary, momentarily distracted by the disparity of size between them. Sam didn’t appear uncomfortable though, as his fingers twitched closer to yours and he made no move to pull away.

He couldn’t help but smile again when he noticed the sincere concern in your eyes that was previously absent in the shifter’s. “Yeah well, what was it you once said to me? ‘Your ass will always be worth it’?”

“And if I remember correctly, you once told me you don’t do things on hunts that make your injuries worse,” you quoted him back with an arched brow.

“Yeah well, I guess this is payback. Now you know how I felt.” A playful grin made his dimples deepen and you clenched your jaw to refrain from gushing over the ridiculous cuteness of this ‘giant lumberjack’.

“You’re an idiot.”

“As long as you’re OK,” Sam answered assuredly, and you nearly melted when his free hand caressed your cheek for the second time that day, big thumb tracing a feather-light path below the purpled skin.

‘You’re both fucking idiots,’ Dean groaned internally from the other side of the door. He knew he had no choice but to up his game.

thanks so much for reading! feedback is greatly appreciated!

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tcsauaskblog · 3 years

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OH MAN I GUESS IT’S TIME NOW HUH???? THEN HERE WE GO KIDS

So Abner is one of the older cousins (about 7 years older than Fethry). He’s not much bigger or taller then other kids his age, but he’s built like a brick wall and stronger than he looks FOR SURE. He’s a rowdy kid, often getting into lighthearted trouble and roughhousing with other boys in the school yard, but all in all, he really is a good kid.

He helps his dad out with the chores on his gran’s ranch without complaint, does the nitty gritty jobs so that his gran doesn’t have to, and isn't afraid to give his mom a hug and a kiss in front of the other school boys (even if they’ll make fun of him later for it, which he’ll then get into a tussle about, but more for the sake of principle than actually denying that he’s a momma’s boy and is embarrassed by her affection.) He really is, truly, a good kid. Just a bit rough around the edges is all.

He’s not good around kids though. He never really payed much attention to his younger cousins till they were old enough to actually hang around with. Donald was always a little too feisty and eager to prove himself, which Abner could respect, and he was fun to wrestle with once he was actually able to hold his own. Della talked a lot, but momma said that was just a girl thing, despite her being just as eager to wrestle and get down and dirty with the boys. Gladstone showed off too much, but sometimes his luck would get them free ice cream down at the shops on Sunday afternoons, so he wasn’t too annoying to hang out with. And it helped that Gus was around his age, and able to help him round up the little gang of hooligans when it got a little too much for Abner to deal with sometimes.

And then Fethry came around.

And he was small. Smaller than the others had been, almost tiny in comparison, and Abner felt his heart flinch every time someone asked him to hold his baby brother. (Either for a family pic for granny or to help momma out sometimes when she was busy)

It wasn’t like Abner didn’t like Fethry. He was a relatively easy baby. Hardly ever cried, compared to what Abner remembered of his cousins as babies, and usually was content just to be held and giggle. Abner just didn’t know what to DO with the kid.

He was just. So. Little. little enough that one wrong move from Abner and his baby brother would break into a million pieces. Not to mention the kid was so adored by everyone around him and was the complete opposite of Abner in every way. Abner didn’t think he could stomach the idea of being the reason this little kid, who was all smiles and stars in his wide brown eyes, cried or got hurt.

So Abner did was any kid his age could do in his situation and just sort of,,, avoided Fethry. Not to be mean or difficult, but just to be safe. Just until Fethry was a little older, a little less breakable.

As the years went by though, it became harder and harder to break this avoiding game they were playing, despite Fethry’s BEST efforts. Because the kid LOVED his cool and distant older brother. He’d follow Abner everywhere he went, would try to copy some of Abner’s poorer choice habits (which horrified Abner to no end, thus furthering his efforts to keep away from Fethry so as not to taint the kid) And even though Fethry got older and wasn’t the baby he used to be, he somehow got even more fragile, even more precious before Abner’s eyes. The kid was as pure hearted as could be, while Abner, entering his early teen years, became more and more rambunctious with his shenanigans and got into a lot more trouble than he was probably worth. He became to hard to be near the kid, a shining beacon of everything good in the world, where Abner was bordering on the darker side of that shadow the beacon cast.

Abner didn’t really mean to get into as many arguments about his estrangement with his kid brother with his folks, mostly his dad. But it was hard to explain himself. Abner was a little too much like his father, where words were hard to come by and actions always did the job of conveying his thoughts anyway. His mother, a kind hearted and gentle spirit, was always able to see through his rough exterior and understand him perfectly, but even she was having difficultly understanding his hesitance to be around Fethry. Abner wished he could be a little bit more like Fethry, the spitting image of his mother’s kind soul, But alas, he was too much like Eider, and that made the two butt heads more often than not.

It was Gladstone’s 7th birthday when the incident occurred.

The party was being held at granny’s ranch, and it was a big family todo, (family events always were) and Abner was getting a little too smothered with all the constant chatter and loud music. He had only stepped away just to catch his breath, to be able to breathe a little easier without all the commotion. He had taken a walk down to the little pond at the bottom of the hill.

He didn’t really like water all that much. He wasn’t a very good swimmer, and after the summer he broke into the movie theatre with some friends to see an R-rated horror film about a sea monster when he was 9, he’d never really been able to look at a body of water the same again. But he had half an egg sandwich he swiped from the buffet table in his hoodie jacket, and feeding the bluegills was always something that calmed him down, so standing on the little dock didn’t seem too scary.

Abner didn’t realize Fethry had followed him down to the pond. He should have. Of course he should have known the kid would. Fethry followed him everywhere, like a little duckling would. Abner should have realized Fethry would have trailed along right behind him.

But he didn’t. He was too stuck in his own head, trying to calm himself down from getting too overstimulated from the party. He didn’t realize Fethry was right behind him.

He didn’t mean to jerk as hard as he did, when Fethry has reached out towards him, he really, honestly, didn’t. The kid had startled him, and Abner was acting on school yard protective reflexes faster than he could stop himself.

To this day he doesn’t really know if he actually pushed Fethry in or not. It hurts to think about. All he knows for sure is two things.

That Fethry fell into the water.

And that Abner didn’t jump in to save him.

Someone did though, Donald a few seconds later. Where he had come from, Abner couldn’t bother to ponder about. Donald had always been a little too protective over Fethry, acting on those big brother instincts far better than Abner ever did. He must have followed after Fethry when he noticed the little 4 year old duckling toddle away from any adult eyes. He had jumped in the water immediately to save Fethry.

Abner wasn’t even sure if the Donald could swim. It didn’t matter if he could though. That wasn’t the point. The point was that Abner didn’t jump in, regardless of whatever excuse he could come up with.

And he tried, for years. Abner spent countless hours trying to wrap his head around why he never jumped in. Why he couldn’t move. Why is heart felt like it broke the second Fethry’s signature, stupidly big hat, disappeared under the water. Why it didn’t feel better when both he and Donald broke the surface again, whole seconds later.

The coming days would be a blur after that. A hazy blur that Abner didn’t like thinking too hard about.

The adults had come to the rescue a few minutes later, Gladstone and Della must have ran to get them after Donald had jumped into the water after Fethry. Fethry ended up ok, if not a little water logged and shaken, understandably. They had demanded to know what had happened.

And Abner couldn’t speak. Couldn’t even make eye contact. Just stared at his own feet, his hands clenching in his hoodie pockets hard enough to leave bruising as he willed the pain in his chest to go away. Donald had no such reservations, and told the story as he saw it.

That Abner has pushed Fethry into the lake.

Abner couldn’t very well refute it, no matter how much he wanted to. He didn’t mean to push Fethry if he did, he didn’t mean to not jump in after him. He didn’t mean to hurt Fethry. He never did. Fethry was the last person on the earth that Abner wanted to hurt. But that didn’t change the fact that he did hurt Fethry, and that he didn’t do anything to change that.

He was sent away to a boarding school the following week. A school for lost and wayward boys. Boys who had caused so much havoc in their lives, that their parents didn’t know what to do with them or how to help them anymore. It was, for a lot of cases, a last ditch effort to save some reckless boys from causing any more damage to themselves and the people around them. Abner was one of those cases.

He didn’t want to go. Had begged and pleaded and fought tooth and nail not to go. Momma, the sweet soul that she was, didn’t seem like she wanted to send him away either. But Fethry had almost drowned, and neither of them could deny that Abner was the cause of it, and had said nothing to his defense against it. But Pa’s word was final, and Abner couldn’t do anything about it.

The school was strict, but it had never met a challenger quite like Abner Duck. Stubbornness was something tangible, flowing in his veins like the rest of the spitfire Duck traits he inherited, and Abner proved himself to be quite the problem child that everyone had always painted him out to be.

It was about a year later, that Abner got the letter from his gran that his mother had fallen ill. She died the following spring.

Abner felt out of sorts in his suit that didn’t fit him quite right as he stood in the spring rain at his mother’s grave spot. It was under the little oak tree on the hill overlooking gran’s ranch. The pond Fethry had almost drowned in was just a little bit away, in viewing distance at the bottom of the hill. Fethry was on the other side of his father. Abner felt bile creep up in his throat whenever Fethry would peek over at Abner with wide brown eyes that reminded Abner too much of their mother, and try to give him a smile. Abner tried not to hate him in that moment. It wasn’t Fethry’s fault. He was only 5. He didn’t understand what was going on. Didn’t realize the weight of momma’s death. Still didn’t really understand why Abner hadn’t been around the past few months, but still. There was a pit of anger burning itself into Abner’s stomach that he didn’t know what to do with.

He hadn’t seen his mother in almost a year, and now he’ll never get to see her. Never get to hold her hands or give her hugs or eat her brown sugar cookies that was the only thing she could bake without burning. The last memory he has of her alive is when she hugged him goodbye before the boarding school bus took him away. Abner was too upset and angry that he didn’t hug her back. If he had known that was going to be his last moments of her, he would have turned around in his bus seat, to at least see her wave him off, with little Fethry, not understanding the situation at all, waving good bye too.

Abner was incredibly heartbroken, but more than that, he was furious. Furious that his father had sent him away in the first place. Away from his mother, the only person who really saw him for his worth. They had gotten into another fight that night, screaming at each other so loudly that they neighbors dogs, a whole acre away, could hear them and started barking in turn. Abner doesn’t remember a whole lot of the fight. Just that they were both raw from grief and heartbreak, and that Abner knew, that without his mom, he couldn’t stay in that house. Not with a dad who was a little too much like him, and a baby brother who couldn’t have been more different. Abner left for the school again the next morning. He hated being in the school, but it was the only place that was familiar enough to return to, without feeling like it was a home.

Abner got the news that his father died half a year later. Abner didn’t bother going to the funeral, no matter how devastated he was about the news. The only person left from their broken little family, the only person who would, undoubtedly, be waiting for him, was Fethry. And Abner couldn’t see him. Not now. He didn’t know when, but certainly not now. Not after everything that had happened between them.

Abner decided it was best to keep the distance between himself and Fethry. Nothing good came from them being near each other, and this way, Abner knew that at the very least, Fethry would be safer without him around. Fethry had granny to take care of him, and Donald and Della and Gladstone to keep him company. He didn’t need Abner.

Fethry would be better off without him.

#tcs ask #TCS au #Teenage Cousin Shenanigans #abner duck #boy sorry this was long #had a lot of thoughts about the boy #but there you go #that's why abner wasn't in fethry's life growing up #the long awaited abner story #the abner fic would have started out after this all happened #with fethry trying to reconnect with abner because he doesn't remember why abner left and no one would tell him the truth

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alicepink-me · 4 years

Text

The New Guardian

Story Summary: Marinette Dupain-Cheng is an adult in the real world, guarding the Miracle Box in Master Fu's place. She's in love with Chat Noir, but refuses to tell him her feelings. New holders appear to fight the duo and shake up their lives. Marinette makes a tough decision about her future as Ladybug.

Chapter 22: The Cube Part 2

"Marinette!" Alya whisper shouted as she ran into the room, holding a blue cat. Adrien, Nino, and Juleka followed behind her and closed the door.

"Alya?" Marinette slid off of Luka's bed. "What's the . . . a cat? Why do you-"

"Shhh!" Alya hushed, setting the cat down. She ran over to Marinette and grabbed her hand, moving her across the room, away from everyone else. "There's an akuma outside, so we have to hide. I knew you'd be in Luka's room, so we came to "look" for you while we searched for a good place."

Marinette blushed. "But where's Luka? He went to get something about a minute ago." Alya's eyes shifted to the small cat on the floor. "No." Marinette's eyes widened and her mouth gaped open. "There's no way." She crouched down next to the feline. "Luck really isn't on my side of relationships." She pouted.

"We have ourselves a cat." Alya shrugged, turned to her friend. "And not just one. There are tens in the streets and probably more by now."

"An akuma?"

"Of course." Alya said, crossing her arms. "There's a cat woman turning the people of Paris into cats and we thought she'd be afraid of water, but sadly, she chased us anyway."

"Why would someone want to turn us into cats?" Marinette asked.

"I heard her earlier." Nino started, leaning against the wall. "When she was threatening Luka, she said that she had a few stray cats by her house, but her parents wouldn't let her take them in. She fed them everyday anyway and took care of them, but she witnessed two strangers abuse them. In a fit of rage, she was akumatized to turn everyone into her pets." He sighed. "It's a really strange solution."

"Then she turned Luka." Adrien added. "We tricked her for a moment after and bolted with the new blue cat."

"Poor Luka." Marinette patted his fluffy head.

Adrien stared. "So uh . . . Marinette, what were you . . . doing in here?"

"Oh u-um." Marinette gulped. "I was . . . looking for the bathroom!"

"The bathroom?" Alya squinted, obviously not believing it.

"Yeah, I had to go." Marinette said, backing towards another door on the other side of the room. "And since you guys barged in before I found it, I should probably keep looking." She turned around.

"Wait!" Alya said, Marinette taking a deep breath as she turned back. "Aren't you forgetting that Luka has one?" Alya moved to one corner and tapped her knuckles on the wooden door. "Right here." She said, looking at her friend strangely.

"Oh, I must have forgotten." Marinette's eyes widened as she smiled awkwardly. Everyone stared at her as she moved across the room. Alya would probably have questions later, but for now, there was an akuma and she had to do her job. This wouldn't be the first time for awkward situations and lame excuses anyway. "Thanks." Marinette's hand touched the door.

"We'll talk later." Alya whispered. "Look, I know you were trying to get close to Luka earlier, so your thoughts aren't gonna be entirely clear, but when you're done in there, we must focus on the akuma, even if two boys you've been interested in are in the same room, one being a cat at the moment."

"I get it, Alya." Marinette smiled, turning the knob. "I'm just overthinking a lot of things right now and my emotions are everywhere after talking to Luka earlier." Marinette tried to think of something that wasn't too random. She opened the bathroom door and slid inside.

Juleka picked up her cat brother and sat on the bed. "So what are we gonna do about the akuma?" Juleka mumbled.

"Ladybug should be here soon." Nino replied.

"Yeah, we can always count on her." Adrien smiled, feeling slightly guilty at his own heroic absence.

Marinette leaned her head against the bathroom wall. There were no windows and a zero chance for her to slip away. How could she possibly be Ladybug when Marinette was needed here? She couldn't talk to Tikki because Alya was probably still on the other side of that door. She could mutter her transformation discretely and maybe a lucky charm, but nothing more. Ladybug could never leave this tiny space to fight.

"Spots On . . . " Marinette whispered, closing her eyes. Without an escape, there weren't many options, but she needed something. Ladybug pressed her ear against the door, listening in on the other side.

"Uh-my dad just messaged me." Adrien blurted. "He cancelled my photoshoot because of the attack, but he wants me home immediately."

"But there's an akuma." Alya scrunched her eyebrows.

Adrien panicked. "I-I know, but he . . . needs me for something."

"Come on, man." Nino hit his shoulder. "You could get hurt if you leave and Ladybug and Chat Noir will have things handled in no time. There's no harm in staying."

"Okay." Adrien sighed.

Ladybug could tell by their voices that none of them were right next to the door. She took a step back in the small space. "Lucky Charm." She swung her yo-yo up, trying to be as quiet as possible. If she were any taller, it would clank off of the ceiling and shock them all, revealing her identity in the end, or maybe she was only overthinking. A small spotted mouse and controller fell into her hands, luckily unpackaged. Neither were bigger than three inches.

The villain was a cat, so this could come in handy and if she knew anything from her partner, cats can be fooled or easily distracted. But the hardest part now would be doing her job without her suit.

"Spots off." She mumbled, her transformation releasing. Marinette looked down at the mouse and controller before shoving them in the microscopic front pocket of her jeans. She took a deep breath and unlocked the door, slipping out. Everyone stared at her as if she was hiding something. I mean, she was, but they weren't supposed to know. "Why are you all looking at me like that?" Her eyes moved between them nervously.

"What was that light?" Alya tilted her head.

"What light?" Marinette froze. Adrien looked at her strangely.

"There was a flash of light." Alya stepped closer. "We saw it shine under the door."

"Yeah, it looked sort of like an alien abduction." Nino added.

"So what was it?" Alya asked again.

"M-My phone." Marinette pulled it out of her purse to show them the screen. "I saw a report . . . about Ladybug. She uh-just arrived at the scene to fight." Marinette made up. "It shouldn't be too long now."

"Really? There's already a report?" Alya whipped out her phone and moved back toward the boys. "I have to share a link to my blog imm-"

Suddenly, the cat woman burst through the door, debris flying everywhere. She shot a strange pink band at Alya that pushed her back, binding her wrist to the wall.

The band imbedded in the wall as Alya tried yanking on it. "A collar?" She inspected, turning to the enemy.

Marinette wouldn't laugh, but the enemy resembled herself when she was Ladynoir a few years ago. The only difference with this enemy was the giant canon like gun she carried, her red pixie cut and the brown color to her suit. Otherwise, she could easily be the female Chat Noir without puns. Hopefully there's no puns.

Adrien and Nino moved to attack the villain, but she shot them both with collars, one around Adrien's arm and one around Nino's neck. Adrien was bound to another wall by his elbow and Nino was turned into a cat with a green spot on his head.

"You guys will be the perfect additions to my litter." She grinned, hoisting her gun on her shoulder. Her eyes scanned the room. "I'm in need of two miraculous, but it seems Ladybug and Chat Noir haven't showed up yet, so . . . " Her smirk widened. "Maybe if I had a few hostages . . . they'd run to the rescue."

"They would come either way because you're turning everyone into cats." Juleka mumbled.

The woman took her gun and launched a collar that wrapped around Juleka's neck, transforming her into a black and violet, longhaired cat. "Maybe so." She replied. "But they may come faster if a few citizens cry for help in eminent danger."

"Hostages? So you won't turn us into cats?" Adrien questioned. He could feeling Plagg laughing inside his jacket.

"Don't worry, I will." She moved around the room. "But not until I get what I want."

"Which is?" Alya asked.

"Power." The villain stopped. "After I've handled my boss and given him what he demands, I can finally get my revenge."

Marinette had to play her cards right. Either as a cat or imprisoned, and if she maneuvered right, maybe she could do this right. Maybe this enemy hadn't noticed her yet, or she had just bypassed zapping her with the others. Marinette looked down at her hands. She needed to be in two places at once, but she had a plan. Marinette ran forward and stopped, holding her hands in front of her with her wrists together. "Wait, wait! You don't have to do this!" She shouted.

The cat woman immediately launched a red collar at Marinette, binding her wrists together. She internally sighed, thankful that she wasn't turned into a cat. "What do you want?" The woman asked. "If you're going to fight me, I'll just turn you now."

"No, wait!" She held her hands up. "I just want to . . . hear your side." Marinette said, dropping to the floor as if she was defeated. "If you are going to turn us into cats, we should at least know why."

"Marinette!" Alya shouted. "Don't charge the enemy like you have a death wish."

"I'm sorry, Alya." Marinette's hand inched to her front jean pocket. "I must not have been thinking." She watched the enemy as she slowly pulled out the tiny controller. Part of her plan included dropping the mouse back where she was standing outside the bathroom, so now, Marinette was one step ahead.

"Girl, you need to be careful." Alya sighed. "This is an enemy, not Ms. Bustier's classroom."

"Quit talking!" The woman pointed the gun to Alya before back to Marinette. "But since you're interested, I might as well tell you while we wait." Marinette smiled. "Recently, my pet was abused by a couple of strangers and I needed to take revenge. Maybe if everyone in this city had to live as felines, they wouldn't mistreats such animals. They'd actually understand. Maybe they'd think twice and respect all lives. It could be different. I could change things."

"They shouldn't have done that to your pet." Marinette agreed.

"I know, right?!" She yelled. "I mean, who does that? How sick of a person can you be?" She took a deep breath. "See that's my point in this. I deserve justice. You all need awareness and punishment."

"But why us?" Adrien asked. The woman rolled her eyes over to him. "Why not just punish the ones who committed the crime? We haven't done anything wrong."

"Are you questioning my methods?" She hissed.

"No-"

"Why aren't you listening?" She asked, stalking towards him. "That girl over there asked for an explanation and it's quite rude of you to interrupt my story."

"I just wanted to understand why we have to suffer for someone else's crime." Adrien reasoned.

"You still continue to keep me from finishing my story!" Her fingers tightened around her gun. "You know I should just get it over with and blast you all!" She rose her weapon, aiming at Adrien. "I wouldn't have to listen to you babble on. I could start my terror without your pathetic heroes. Wouldn't they have shown up by now if they were coming for you?" She grinned.

A small squeak was barely heard. The cat woman's ears perked up, twitching at the sound. Her eyes darted near Alya to see the tiny rodent toy crawling around. Her pupils widened. The mouse began to move towards her and her brown tail lifted.

'Please go after it. Please go after it.' Marinette hoped. The woman's eyes follow the toy.

"Look at the spots." Alya said.

"Ladybug." Adrien's eyes widened. "She must be nearby."

"Where is that stupid bug?" The villain asked, her eyes not leaving the mouse. Her gun dropped to the floor with a bang as her hands began to shake. "Maybe she's drawing me to her." The mouse hit the tip of her steal toed boot, striking a nerve as she closed her eyes. "What is she thinking?"

Marinette began to sweat. Her lucky charm couldn't have been wrong, but maybe she misused it. 'I really hope this works.' Marinette thought. 'I don't have many options without revealing myself.'

Suddenly, the cat woman dropped to the floor, her pupils expanding. Marinette quickly moved the mouse across the room, the villain chasing it. Alya and Adrien's eyes widened in surprise. Maybe she used it right.

For about a minute, everyone's eyes followed the tiny rodent as their enemy mindlessly followed it. By now, the woman was almost hypnotized and entranced with it. Marinette directed it towards the door, leading her out. The three looked to each other.

"Marinette." Alya whispered, motioning to her arm. "Try to get these collars off of us while that cat is distracted."

Marinette slyly slipped the controller back in her pocket as she stood up. She dashed over to Alya and tried yanking on the collar, her wrists still bound. "They're too strong." Marinette analyzed, pulling harder. She inhaled. "Maybe I should go look for something to cut them."

"Don't be dumb, Marinette." Alya said. "You'd walk right into a trap if you leave."

"Marinette can do it, Alya." Adrien spoke. "The enemy went the other way and Marinette only has to find something sharp enough. And besides, Ladybug's here now."

"Yeah . . . " Marinette agreed. "I mean not here here! Ladybug's not here! On the boat, but definitely not in this room! No! Why would-she's . . . I'm gonna go look for something to help." Marinette rambled before quickly exited through the other door and shutting it behind her. She sighed, leaning against it. Marinette looked around. She was in a red kitchen and dining room. While scanning the room, she set the small controller on a cabinet next to her. "Spots on." She whispered. Tikki zapped into her earrings and Marinette transformed again, grabbing the controller.

There was a wall of windows and glass doors at the end of the granite counter top. Ladybug tiptoed over and slowly turned the handle, wincing at the quiet shriek as she pushed it open and closed. Once outside, Ladybug jumped to the roof of the boat, creeping towards the front. She peered over the edge to see the woman suspiciously picking up the motionless mouse. Ladybug pressed on the joypad of her controller, reanimating the rodent. The enemy began chasing it again.

Ladybug watched from above, leaning on her fist as she thought. She'd spent the last minute trying to figure out where the akuma is, how to beat her, and where Chat Noir could possibly be. Besides the enemy at hand, Chat Noir should have been here by now. Maybe he got held up like she almost was. They are almost adults now, so their routines are a lot harder to accomplish. Ladybug really hoped he'd show up soon. She hadn't seen him in a few days. She smiled.

"Ladybug, where are you!" Cat woman shouted, dashing towards the rodent. Ladybug's smile dropped. "Show yourself!"

Ladybug squinted. 'Could the akuma be in a shoe? There's not many accessories on her suit.' She thought. Her eyes focused on the brown belt on her brown suit. 'A bag?' A small pouch, nearly unnoticeable, was tied to the villain's belt. 'It has to be there. That's too random to be a coincidence, especially since she hasn't used it yet. It could be a power, but that's highly unlikely.'

Ladybug stopped moving the mouse in circles, and directed it towards Luka's keyboard in the corner. The woman swatted at the mouse as it weaved around the legs and cords. Ladybug leaped down, standing over her with one leg on each side. She reached down and ripped the pouch off of her belt and tore it apart.

"Catnip." Ladybug analyzed, noticing the scattered bits as the black butterfly flew out. "No more evil doing for you little akuma. Time to deevilize!" Ladybug swung her yo-yo, snatching the insect. "Gotcha! Bye, bye little butterfly." The now white bug fluttered away as she waved. "Miraculous Ladybug!" Ladybug launched her remote in the air. The mouse disappeared as everything fixed itself.

As soon as their collars disappeared, Alya and Adrien rushed out of Luka's room with the now human again Nino, Juleka, and Luka. Ladybug jumped to the roof, out of sight in time, and sprinted back to the kitchen area. She passed a window garden box and slid, backing up to it. Perfectly timed and somehow impossible, a pair of small garden shears laid inside in the dirt. Ladybug snatched them and ran inside.

"Spots off." She uttered, pushing through Luka's bedroom door. Marinette tripped over her feet in the doorway and faceplanted on the floor just as her friends returned.

"Marinette?" Alya questioned, walking closer. "Where were you before and why are you on the floor? I guess Ladybug beat the akuma while you were gone."

"I . . . I went to get something to cut your collars, remember?" Marinette breathed, pulling herself off the ground and waving the shears in the air. "But you know me, I'm clumsy."

"Were you running with scissors, Marinette?" Adrien chuckled.

"Not my best idea." Marinette admitted. "But at least I wasn't turned into a cat."

#miraculous ladybug #MIRACULOUS: TALES OF LADYBUG AND CHAT NOIR #alice pink #alicepink-me #ladybug #chatnoir #adrien agreste #miraculous #the new guardian #marinette dupain cheng #romance #fanfiction

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yodawgiherd · 5 years

Text

Resolution

>>>Read on AO3<<<

Rating: M

Hey guys, back here with the (slow as fuck) update, but hey, it's here! Also filling the prompt on some JxH action, if you know what I mean. So yea. Enjoy!

“We can find him.“

She said.

“I’ll help you.“

She said.

How hard can it be to find a single guy, in 2k19, the age of the internet, huh? Welp, as it turned out, pretty fucking hard indeed. There are about two and a half boatloads of Marcos in the states and finding the right one among them was basically like finding the proverbial needle in a haystack. Hah. There is a certain thing called protection of personal data and online privacy, and no matter how nicely they asked, the internet just refused to breach laws for them. The bitch. It surely didn’t help that neither Hitch nor Jean was any kind of hacker-men, so skirting alongside IPs and whatnot to find their goal was out of the question, unfortunately. All these things combined, they were in quite a bind, and Hitch for all her initial bravado was slowly but surely losing steam.

“You know what?”, leaning back, she rubbed her tired eyes, groaning as every muscle in her body protested against the sudden movement, “Fuck this.”

Jean, who wasn’t faring much better, looked up from the laptop with a weak smile.

“We giving up?”

“Nah. Just a change of pace. We’ve been going at it from the wrong angle.”

“Oh? You got a different one then?”

“Sure do.”, leaning back forward, Hitch fixed him with an intense stare, one that used to be much more intense when she wasn’t this dog-tired, “We have to start at the source, as our online methods have apparently failed us.”

“What’s the source then.”

“That’s obvious, isn’t it?”, she pointed at him, “You.”

Jean stared at her for a minute, then scratched the back of his head. Awkwardly.

“Yea… I’m lost.”

“Look, we can’t find shit in these files, so, all have left is tracing back the physical source. You.”

“….. okay?”

Jean might have been completely dumbfounded by what Hitch was saying, and not really following, at all that was, but hey, as long as she seemed to have an idea what she was doing, he was more than okay to just sit back and let her take the lead.

“What are we doing then?”

“You said that you don’t remember where he ended up, right?”

“Correct.”

“But if you were a good friend of him as a teenager, then I’d say that your mother was in the least acquainted with his mom. Parents tend to do that.”, Hitch snapped her fingers, smug, as if she had just cracked the case, “You have to call your mom.”

Oof.

“Hey, mom… Yeah it’s me… I’m okay, okay… Listen, I just need to ask you something.”, Jean shot a look at Hitch, who gave him a supportive thumbs-up, “You remember Marco? The kid I used to hang out with? Yea, that one. Yes…. Okay, and do you recall what happened to the family, after his brother… you know… Oh?”, Jean blinked a few times, “Really? Okay, thanks. Yea, love you too, talk soon!”

With that, he hung up, finally turning to Hitch who was quite literally sitting at the edge of her seat.

“So? What did she say?”

“They moved.”

“Where?”

“Not that far away actually,” turning back towards the laptop, Jean clicked his tongue, “a few hours drive, seems like.”

Unlike Jean, who seemed to be brooding more and more with every passing second, Hitch couldn’t help but feel excited as their goal finally seemed to draw near. Well, near-er, at least.

“Time for a road trip then.”, she exclaimed, grinning, already planning how to clear her schedule for about two days, that should give them enough time.

“Road trip..”, Jean repeated mindlessly after her, a part of him dreading the now apparently unavoidable meeting.

The drive was a bit more than a few hours, and when they reached their destination the day has steadily progressed into an evening already. Finding a city was nice and all, but still, if it was a big one, their search was just about as dead as it was before. Okay, maybe a bit rejuvenated, but far from being happily finished. Yet, as fate willed it, they finally hit a tiny vein of gold in their series of unfortunate events, and the town where Marco was living in now, if the information was accurate, was a small one, making the good old strategy of going door to door, like a pair of carolers, a viable one. A bit of searching later, with Hitch growing progressively more excited and Jean more stiff by the second, they found it. A house, plain-looking one, with the Bott family name innocently sitting on the mailbox, making Jean feel like he was young again, going to ask Marco’s mother if her son can go and play outside. Hitch all but dragged him to the door, knocking while almost bouncing on the spot with excitement.

“Maybe they aren’t home..”, he suggested weakly, when no one opened for a few seconds, but Hitch wouldn’t be so easily rebutted, and shaking her head, she knocked again, louder.

The door opened.

Marco’s mother, miss Bott, has grown old over the years, as human beings tend to do. Her welcoming smile turned into a surprised expression when she saw Jean standing there awkwardly, the years apparently not proving enough of a distraction to make her not recognize him.

“Jean?”, she asked, voice shaky, “Is that you?”

He wanted to answer, he really did, but somehow his throat was insanely dry all of a sudden, and he couldn’t get a word out. Luckily, Hitch was there, ready for a rescue mission.

“Hi!”, she got the attention of the elderly woman, “I’m so sorry that we are intruding, but we’ve been wondering, could we talk to Marco? We’ve been told that he lives here.”

“Marco? Marco…”, she took a shuddering breath, the years weighing on her shoulders hard, just from that single word. She looked up, over Hitch’s shoulder, on the taller person behind her, eyes shimmering. “Jean, I thought you knew…”

He could get words out if he tried hard enough.

“Knew what?”, he croaked.

“Marco… Marco is gone… Dead. A car accident, years ago…”

And they say that God has no sense of humor.

Miss Bott must have sensed the dramatic shift In his mood, because she took a step back inside the house, giving space.

“Why don’t you come in, and we can…”

“No.”

Jean surprised himself with how cold his voice sounded, but now that he said it, he was adamant about the decision.

“I’m sorry that we barged in like this, but we really have to go now.”, robotic, machine-like words sprouting from between his lips, like a prepared speech, but the thought of getting away, right now, was the only thing that he could focus himself on. No more memories. No more painful surprises.

With an awkward half-bow, his body even stiffer than it was before, Jean made his way back to the car, only half-mindedly hearing the quick-worded apology Hitch was saying to the old lady. Sitting into the driver’s seat, heavily, he reached out to start the car, only to be stopped by the gentle and surprisingly firm grip of Hitch’s hand.

“You’re in no condition to drive.”, she whispered, “Let me.”

Not seeing her point, but in no mood to argue, he obeyed, changing seats and handing the keys over. Then he was left to stare out of the window, into the falling darkness, wondering what the hell was this whole grand tour for. Nothing, that was the logical conclusion. Just a waste of time.

He didn’t even notice that they stopped at some motel, or when the hell Hitch even got the room for them, but now he was sitting on a bed, staring at a wall, with rain thundering outside the windows. When did that happen?

“Looks like a small storm.”, Hitch said, entering, shaking the raindrops from her hair, “I thought it would be better to just spend the night here, and go back in the morning. What do you think?”

“Whatever.”, Jean muttered, honestly not giving a fuck right now.

“So… Uh..”, taking off her wet coat, she sat down on the other bed, facing the brooding man.

“Want to talk about what happened?”

“No.”

“Jean you should…”

“No.”

“It’s really better to…”

“No.”

“Just listen to me!”, a bit pissed off with how he was cutting her off, Hitch raised her voice, but all that she got from Jean in response was an arched eyebrow, “I’m a professional, I’ve been dealing with things like these on daily basis! Just let me…”

“No.”

Other people would just probably say fuck it, and leave him to sulk, wouldn’t probe anymore, as Jean didn’t want any help. Hitch was not like other people.

The slap was hard, stinging, setting his cheek aflame. Jean’s eyes immediately lit up, his body ready for the fight or flight response, and he was not in the mood for flight. Yet as quickly as he tensed up, he relaxed, when he realized who was the one that hit him.

“Now are you going to listen?”, she asked, nonchalantly, ignoring the way he stared at her.

Jean worked his jaw, snorted, and shook his head.

“No.”

She slapped him again, even harder, making Jean wonder where the strength was coming from.

“Now?”, again, such a calm voice, a sharp counter to the heated actions. But he wouldn’t budge.

“No.”

When Hitch tried slapping him for the third time, he caught her hand, restraining her effortlessly.

“No more…”, he began, but Hitch was resourceful, enough to hit him with her other hand, forcing him to restrain it too.

“No more unnecessary violence.”, he said, cheeks burning.

“Unnecessary? I disagree, it is necessary, as it is the only thing you seem to react to at all.”

He shook his head.

“I don’t need your council or your help. I’m fine.”

“I never said anything about helping you. Maybe it’s me that needs to talk.”, she countered, “But if you’re putting yourself so readily in the victim position, maybe you do need my help, huh?”

“No.”, again retreating to that word, as it was the only thing that seemed solid right now, Jean did his best to push back against her offers, to handle it on his own, but Hitch wouldn’t back down.

“I don’t want to talk.”, he whispered.

“Then don’t.”, she offered, and pushed forward, using the last possible assault, now that he was holding her hands.

She kissed him.

Jean was surprised by her attack, taken aback enough to allow himself to be pushed on his back, the hold he had on her hands dissolving and suddenly Hitch was the one holding his considerably larger arms hostage, pressing them into the cheap motel mattress above his head.

“Is this a part of your normal therapy?”, he managed to breathe in-between the kisses.

“Nah,”, she grinned against his lips, “You’re getting special treatment.”

The room was getting hotter, so Hitch sat back to remove her shirt, a feat which Jean gladly assisted her with. She could clearly feel that for all his apathy and cold attitude, he was certainly getting excited now, the unmistakable pressure against her thighs obvious.

“I still want to talk.”, she hissed, making Jean stop in his efforts to weasel out of his own shirt.

“Now?”, he asked, quite uncertain of what to do in his situation.

He looked so funny, with his handsome face all twisted in surprise, frozen with his shirt open and half-out of it, so much that Hitch couldn’t hold it back and began to laugh, shaking her head.

“No, not now. After.”, but to show that she’s serious, she poked him in the middle of his chiseled chest, “But I won’t forget about it.”

“Oh?”, expression darkening, Jean reached out to pull her closer, flipping their position so she was under him now, squirming beneath his broad-shouldered frame.

“We’ll see about that.”, the words were full of promise, and Jean quickly followed them up with a string of kisses down Hitch’s neck, the heat in her spiking above safe figures.

“Maybe I’ll just…”, his hands were now busy downstairs, unbuckling Hitch’s belt and helping her slide out of her jeans, with her avid assistance, and with their combined efforts she was soon bare to him, allowing Jean to slide a finger into her heat, “…fill your head with different thoughts.”

Desperate to get the situation back into her control, as much as she could, Hitch grabbed a fistful of Jean’s hair, yanking him back up, to face her, and when he did she felt a shudder running down her spine. His eyes were empty, save for a burning desire, dark orbs with the fire smoldering on the inside.

“I need you.”, he said, and there was not any question about what she should answer him.

“You have me.”

Spreading her legs in an invitation, Hitch tilted her hips up, allowing her lover to slide himself in, the sensation making her gasp. Jean was usually gentler, but the events of today seemed to burn it all away, and he didn’t hold back when his hips began moving, the dance they both knew so well. Whatever her dedication was before, it was being chipped away at, with every thrust, and all Hitch could do was hold onto Jean’s back for dear life, gasping for air. She couldn’t even see his face, as Jean had it hidden in the cook of her neck, his hot breath fanning over her sweaty skin. Yet it ended as quickly as it began, with him pulling out, much to Hitch’s disappointment.

“Need you to turn around.”, he grunted, his tone allowing no discussion right now, but then again, it wasn’t as if Hitch was looking for one. With his rough help, she turned, getting on her hands and knees. Thankfully, Jean didn’t let her hang for long, covering her body again and using the different position to push in even deeper than before, filling her completely. And again, same as before, he didn’t start up slow, but set a powerful pace, driven by some primal need that Hitch didn’t really understand, but was more than willing to help him to come to terms with it. The small room was full of her moans, and the sounds of skin meeting skin, but Jean remained quiet, muting whatever pleasure he was feeling himself. Fingers, intertwining with her hair, this time it was Jean who yanked her head back, exposing Hitch’s neck to his teeth, vulnerability he immediately took advantage of, marking her skin with fervor. Her pleasure peaking, Hitch reached back behind her, grasping blindly, until she found one of Jean’s hands, guiding it between her trembling thighs. He knew what she wanted him to do. Spreading her open and dipping two fingertips in, Jean began to attend to her clit, rubbing her until she was squirming underneath him, even harder than before, moaning loudly, not caring about the poor neighbors behind the paper-thin walls of the motel in the slightest. Seconds later, her orgasm wrecked Hitch’s body, much to Jean’s pleasure, enough to push him over his own edge. Soon, the room went quiet, with only two sets of breaths slowly calming back to normal.

“Ready to talk now?”, she wanted to know, when the rush of sex was done with, making her lover chuckle.

“You didn’t forget? Damn.”

“I never forget.”

“I’m not sure what you want me to talk about..”, Jean grunted, reaching over to rub a soothing circle over her hipbone, defined beneath the skin, marked with red where he gripped her during their earlier activities. “He’s gone, so any closure I could have gotten is gone with him.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way. I was thinking…”, intertwining her fingers with his, Hitch looked up, “what if we go to Marco’s grave? You could talk to him, say that you’re sorry, see if you don’t feel better afterward.”

Bringing their connected hands to his lips, Jean pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

“As we are staying the night anyway, I’d say it’s worth a shot.”

Wearing a huge satisfied grin, Hitch leaned over to kiss him properly, happy that Jean was properly out of his shell, and that while the initial plan didn’t really work out, there was still a chance to salvage the situation. And don’t even dare to say that she’s not the damn best therapist that there is, albeit her methods can be…. strange, at times.

#fanfic #snk #aot #jean kirstein #hitch dreyse #smut #;)

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craftyshipper · 5 years

Text

Wounded

"Shit. Shit. Shit." Inasa muttered curses to himself as he navigated the swirling blizzard around him, his companion tucked tightly in his arms.

There was so much blood. The red liquid staining his hero costume but he couldn't give a damn, not when his partner was bleeding to death.

"I should have known it was a trap!" He gritted his teeth. "How did they fool us?!"

__________

”I don’t like this Shouto.” The fire and ice hero heard the wind user over their communicator, his voice filled with unease.

“Me either.” Shouto pressed the button on his ear piece as he stared out a window at the snow that was falling. “This place is deserted.”

This was supposed to be an easy in and out raid. There was only supposed to be a few villains hold up at this location. But there wasn’t anyone here.

“Was our Intel wrong?”

Shouto opened another door, and he wold regret it as the bright red numbers flashing down to zero filled his vision. “Shit!”

“What’s wrong?”

There was a no response from his partner, only the sound of an explosion as the building around him shook on it’s foundation. The ground below him vibrated before smoke filled the hallways.

“Shouto!”

Not wasting another moment, Inasa headed to his friend’s location. Upon his arrival, the rubble around him sent a chill down his spine as fear settled in the pit of his stomach.

“Shouto! where are you?!”

Before he could take another step, he spotted a familiar head of red and white hair, but what terrified him most was the blood.

No....

_________

Stepping through the snow, his heavy boots leaving large indents in the powder only for the fresh snow to cover his tracks immediately. Using his quirk, he managed to take control of the air currents to keep them from knocking them down. The flashlight in his right hand fumbled aimlessly for shelter.

About to lose hope, he finally spotted a cave tucked away against the mountainside. Giving a sigh of relief, he charged forward, running into the small area. Hopefully a wild animal hadn't made this its home yet.

He set his partner on the ground and with shaky hands and immediately set about searching for some sticks or dry brush to create a fire. Thanking his luck he found some twigs and pulled a lighter from one of his pockets.

The fire ignited instantly, but Inasa knew the small amount of wood he found wouldn't last long.

Moving to his friend, he unzipped the blue blood stained jacket, praying it wasn't as bad as he thought.

"Fuck." Inasa began panicking at the sight of the still bleeding wound. "Fuck! What do I do?!"

He placed his hands on the sides of his head as tears threatened to escape his eyes.

"Dammit Inasa! Think!"

_________

"I keep several different first aid supplies in these capsules.” Shouto explained as he pointed at his belt when Inasa had asked about them.

“You know first aid?” Inasa inquired and smiled at Shouto’s nod of confirmation.

“I took a few classes, some ranging from simple wounds to more complex ones depending in the supplies I carry." Todoroki stated with ease. “I could teach you too if you’d like.”

“That’d be great!” Inasa bellowed. “It’d be useful for my pro hero career.”

Shouto smiled softly. “Alright, want to start now?”

“Absolutely!”

________

Inasa reached for the belt that was around his partner’s waist and removed each of the capsules, before reaching for his own stash of medical supplies. Opening the first capsule, he found a decent amount of gauze and some medical tape. He moved onto the next one, which was filled with antiseptic wipes and painkillers. The last two held more gauze in one and water in the other.

His own pouch held bandages and stitching supplies. Being partners with Shouto, assured him he wouldn't always need to have everything.

Inasa frowned and grabbed up some of the gauze to immediately place it against Shouto’s wound.

“Apply pressure.” Inasa muttered to himself as he remembered what his friend had taught him.

Shouto’s form was so still he feared that he had stopped breathing, but the shaky breath Shouto suddenly released, caused a big sigh of relief to escape Inasa.

Feeling his hands grow wet, he flinched at the sight of the blood already soaking through the gauze. Shaking his head he grabbed more gauze and applied even more pressure, forcing a gasp to escape the ice and flame hero.

"I-Inasa." His painful raspy voice was music to the wind users ears.

"Shit, Shouto, I thought you were going to die on me." His heart beat quickened. "I may have to stitch this up, but um..."

Shouto knew what Inasa was saying. It was going to hurt. Even if he took the painkillers right now, they wouldn't take effect in time to help with the pain. "Do it."

Inasa clenched his teeth. "But what-"

Shouto gasped out a breath. "Just do it."

Cleaning his hands as best he could, Inasa pulled out the stitching kit and prepared himself for what was to come. Once he removed his cloak, he set it underneath Shouto's head and brought one of the ends to the red and white haired users mouth.

"Bite it if you have to, this is going to hurt."

In the dimly lit light of the cave, Inasa made the first puncture, the muffled yells made him flinch as tears spilled down his cheeks.

"I'm sorry." He muttered under his breath. "Dammit Shouto I'm so sorry."

__________

Night settled in, after the wind user tried and failed to get their communicators working, probably due to the weather, he managed to build a wall of snow to block the entrance to keep the cold air out. The fire had grown to a dull ember, barely enough to see Shouto's face. He was weak, his skin was pale and he hadn't stayed awake for long. His body was shivering and that worried Inasa, Shouto couldn't activate his quirk to warm himself and Inasa cloak isn't enough.

"Shared body heat would work."

Carefully moving to Shouto's side, he picked up the smaller male and tucked him tightly to his chest. He grabbed his cloak and moved to lean back against the wall before covering himself and Shouto in the fabric.

"Come on Shouto." He whispered in the darkening cave. "I need you to survive for me, there's so much I have to tell you."

Inasa knew several years ago that his feelings for the fire and ice hero had developed into something more than friends. But he had been hesitant to take the chance and confess to him despite Midoriya and Yaoyorozu urging him to do so.

Now...the one person he felt a growing love for, could die and he never told him. The late night chats over the phone whenever Shouto had a nightmare, the coffee meet ups, the movies, falling asleep against each other after a tiring rescue or raid.

“Shouto I... I think I might be in love with you.” He whispered into the dark, his hold on his friend tightening.

“Took you long enough.” The weak voice cut through the taller man’s thoughts, causing him to jump in surprise.

“Shouto.” He murmured. “You knew?”

The guilty look on the red and white haired users face made Inasa frown. “Why didn't you say anything?”

“Because,” He paused for a breath, “You seemed unsure of your feelings, like you weren't ready."

Inasa smiled softly. "I feel like an idiot."

Shouto coughed out a laugh. "No you're not."

"Wait, does that mean you...?" The questioned weighed heavily in the air.

It took Shouto a few seconds to respond, but the confirmation lit a spark of hope within Inasa's heart.

"Yeah."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I wasn't ready." The reason went without saying. Despite the slowly improving relationship with his father, there was still doubts lingering in Shouto's mind about his own relationships with his friends or even potential romantic interests.

"And now?"

"I-" he coughed, a trickle of blood slipping past his lips and Inasa hurriedly wiped it away.

"Hey, you okay?!"

"Inasa...I don't feel very well..." He trailed off, his body going limp causing Inasa to panic.

"H-hey! No! No! No!" He moved to lay him down and leaned over his mouth, his breathing was slowing, each breath was strained and that made the situation worse. "Come on Shouto. Hang on please." Inasa pressed his hand to the fire and ice hero's forehead. "Please-"

The sound of static caught his ears and he turned to where his communicator lay.

"G-ale." The voice was broken up, but Inasa knew who it was. "Come in-"

The wind user snatched up the device and walked over to the cave entrance, knocking the snow away to step outside. He hadn't even realized the storm had stopped, the pitch black of outside sent a chill down his spine.

"Midoriya!" He pressed the button on the com link.

"Gale!" Came the relieved voice of their friend. "We've been trying to contact you guys ever since the bomb went off out there."

Inasa felt his heart leap at the thought of getting Shouto medical attention.

"Are you guys okay? Where is Shouto?"

"I need medical evacuation. We're up on the mountainside near a cave, I'm not sure where exactly, we were trapped in a storm."

"Who's hurt?"

"Shouto, he's...he's in bad shape."

"Shit, how bad?" He heard the hero curse, his voice cracking with emotion.

"Bad. His breathing is slowing and he has a fever, possible hypothermia or an infection."

"Try to keep the communicator in an area we can get signal, I'm going to get someone who can track the GPS."

"Please hurry."

"We will."

Inasa set the communicator on a tiny ledge on the mountainside, hopefully it would be enough, before be sprinted back inside to check on his companion.

"Shouto, they are coming for us, they-"

Upon reaching his friend, he noticed there wasn't a rise and fall to his chest like before and the bandages were soaked with blood.

"Shouto." His heart felt like it stopped and he slid to his knees at the wounded man's side. He leaned down and felt for a pulse, it was barely there but he wasn't breathing.

Inasa positioned his head back and began chest compressions, cringing each time he did so. Moving back to Shouto's head, Inasa placed his hand over his friend’s forehead before leaning down and pressed his mouth over Shouto’s to perform CPR.

Inasa repeated this until a gasp came from his companion, he didn't wake but he was breathing again allowing Inasa to release a relieved sigh. His heart was beating erratically from the fear that gripped his heart.

"He won't last much longer."

The sound of helicopter blades cut through the mountain, the sounds echoing and reverberating in his ears. With wide eyes, he stumbled out of the cave and made a show of waving his arms when the helicopters spotlight landed on him.

With it not being able to land due to the snow covered ground, two people propelled themselves down from the machine, followed by a stretched that would be used to lift Shouto into the helicopter.

“Where is he?” One of the medics asked.

“Follow me.”

Everything passed in a blur for Inasa as he watched the medical team lift and secure Shouto to the stretcher. An oxygen mask was placed over his face as well as several IVs and a few blankets. His mind too focused on whether or not he would be okay, he didn’t notice someone hand him the end of a ladder so he could climb up as well.

“You alright Gale?” The male asked with a brow raised.

“Yeah, just thinking.”

“Well come on, you can space out once we have you secured alongside Todoroki.”

“Right.” Inasa quickly climbed the rope ladder and settled himself into one of the seats, his larger frame preventing anyone from sitting too close to him.

His dark eyes landed on his wounded friend, the medics changing his bandages and cleaning the wound.

“Shouto.” He murmured, not taking his eyes of him the entire ride back as he prayed for him to survive.

_________

Shouto came awake to a brightly lit room, forcing him to blink his eyes rapidly to clear his vision. He sat up slowly, his side aching from the pressure he put on it from getting into an upright position.

One look around the room had him softly smiling. Inasa was sitting up right on the chair next to the window, snoring quietly with his head against the wall and his arms crossed.

“He hasn’t moved from that spot in three days.”

The red and white haired male turned to see Izuku and Momo as they walked stealthily into the room, each holding a bouquet of flowers.

“You had us worried.” Momo reprimanded as she set the flowers on his bedside table and then moved to wrap her arms around his shoulders for a hug.

“How bad was it?”

“An infection settled into your wound, but they caught it just in time.” Momo explained as she let him go and Izuku stepped up.

“If Inasa hadn’t answered that call on the communicator, you may not have survived.” Izuku’s voice cracked as he hugged Shouto tightly. “Don’t ever scare us like that again.”

“I don’t plan on it.”

“Shouto.”

The loud voice he was normally used to, called him in such a gentle tone it caught him off guard. Shouto turned to see Inasa staring at them with shock on his face.

“We’ll leave you two alone.” Momo winked at them before she grabbed Izuku’s arm and dragged him out of the room.

Once the two left the room, Inasa stood up and walked over to the male on the bed. He couldn’t help but stare at the lips that he touched with his own when he performed CPR a few days ago. And now, all he wanted to do was kiss him senseless, to feel the warmth of his mouth on his instead of the cold ones he felt before, to assure himself he was alive.

“Inasa?”

Shouto could feel his face heating up with a blush the longer the wind user stared at him like he was stalking his next meal.

“Did you mean what you said?” Inasa asked. “Back in the cave?”

He had to process everything that happened, since most of it was a hazy memory. But he remembered their talk clearly, and what exactly Inasa was asking.

“It’s okay, if you don’t.” Inasa took a few steps back and Shouto didn’t hesitate when he stood up, glad that he was wearing a pair of sweatpants and not the hospital gown. His chest was bare, exposing the white bandage around his side and he had to hide a wince from the movement.

“No, that’s not...” Shouto sighed and placed his hand on the bandage. “I meant everything I said Inasa. And I wouldn’t take it back for anything.”

Inasa’s eyes widened before he stepped forward again unsure of himself.

“But, part of me is hesitant with all of this, what if I screw it up?”

“You won’t.” Inasa assured as he came to stand directly in front of Shouto. “And I’ll make sure of it.” He whispered before he leaned down to capture Shouto’s lips with his own.

He could have lived a thousand years, but nothing could have ever prepared him for the tingling sensations he felt as Inasa’s lips moved against his. And when he felt Inasa’s tongue gently tracing over his sealed mouth, an unspoken question for entrance to which Shouto obliged immediately, he felt a rush of heat come over him.

Inasa was the first to pull away, their breaths mingling together as they stared into each others eyes.

Shouto reached out to place his hand against Inasa’s cheek. “Thank you for saving me.”

The wind user sighed and placed his own hand against the cold one on his cheek.

“And you know I’d do it again.”He stated huskily before capturing his partner in another breathtaking kiss.

#inatodo #todoroki x yoarashi #shouto x inasa #craftyshipper fanfiction

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hale-of-stiles-heart · 7 years

Note

Superman!Derek here we go. Okay stiles is nothing like lois like Noah fence to her but naaa. So Scott has somehow managed to get into life threatening danger that Derek use just used to having to save him but THIS TIME Scott has a hot friend who doesn't. need. this. And so superman is a little baffled and like almost forgets to save them bc liek have you seen stiles? So then stiles is salty abt being the damsel in distress bc GOD KNOWS he can defend himself he's a sheriff's son. (1)

So, this is officially my first Super!Derek work! (also on ao3!)

Derek was painfully used to having to save Scott McCall's life.

The reporter was still green, a new hire at Argent Enterprises who had only been working for a few months. He was practically right out of journalism school, still wide-eyed and awestruck by Metropolis.

Derek didn't mind Scott at that much, especially since he was more tolerable than most of the other reporters that flocked to crime scenes hoping to get a glimpse of him. Unlike most, Scott was content to simply report on the stories he was given, rather than go chasing after an interview with Superman.

Objectively, Derek understood why so many reporters and photographers wanted five minutes with him, understood the intrigue of having a living, breathing superhero flying around the city. He understood the need to know more and ferret out the answers to incredible mysteries.

But, personally, he hated the way reporters buzzed around like flies on a slab of dead meat, like blood sucking parasites wanting a picture or soundbite of Superman to launch their career and fill their pockets. He hated the way that half the time he had to split his attention between saving the day and saving the overzealous reporters trying to get some footage of the action.

Fortunately, Derek never had to save Scott from those kinds of incidents. Unfortunately, he had to save Scott from other incidents.

The first time Derek had to save Scott it was because the reporter had gotten lost and inadvertently wound up in a rather rough neighborhood. He had gotten shot at by some white guys who lived and breathed the Second Amendment as he tried to get somewhere safe.

He wound up getting lost even deeper in the neighborhood, apparently having no sense of direction whatsoever. Derek found him cowering behind a dumpster when the sound of gunshots drew him to the scene.

Deflecting more gunshots from the ignorant city rednecks, Derek led Scott out of the neighborhood by the back of his shirt like a disapproving father who had caught his son smoking. After ensuring that Scott wasn't hurt in any way, suffering no gunshot wounds or other injuries, Derek had escorted him back to Argent Enterprises' main office, instructing him to stay out of trouble.

A few weeks later, Derek had to save him again.

Somehow Scott had gotten caught up in the middle of a scuffle between two super villains who had apparently gotten into an argument in a local Starbucks. One of them had reportedly cut in front of the other in line, incensing them enough to throw a punch that had the other guy flying through the wall.

Scott had gotten clipped by the punch as well, making him spill all of the coffee he had been picking up for his co-workers. But that was the least of his worries as he wound up as a hostage inside the coffee shop, shaking like a leaf under a small table.

After hauling off the villains to jail, Derek had hurried back to the Starbucks to make sure that everyone was alright. He had cocked a curious brow when he noticed Scott amongst those taken hostage, wincing when he saw the coffee stains on his t-shirt.

A pattern had formed after that, one that consisted of Scott inexplicably getting into trouble and Derek saving him. It had quickly become an almost daily occurrence.

Scott had an uncanny ability to attract danger though he insisted that his friend, whose name he claimed was Stiles, was the real lightning rod for trouble. And lucky Derek got to pull him out of burning buildings and yank him away from more superpowered fights in the middle of the city.

So, when Derek overheard a police radio call detailing that a couple of reporters had somehow gotten themselves trapped on the roof by yet another super villain that called Metropolis home, he immediately knew that one of them must be Scott.

With a quick glance around the office to make sure no one would notice him leave, Derek discreetly gathered his things in his suitcase and rushed to the elevator. Five minutes later, his suitcase was safely tucked away in his apartment and he was soaring over the skies of Metropolis. Super speed definitely had its perks.

He followed the sound of police sirens and fire engines to the scene of the crime where Livewire was hurling balls of concentrated electricity at the first responders. The air crackled with static as currents of electricity raced through her body, sparking blue at her fingertips.

Her ghostly white skin seemed to glow in the bright sunlight of the late morning, making it look even more unnatural than it already was. In stark contrast to her skin, her neon blue hair stood straight up from her scalp, almost resembling a mohawk.

She was barely recognizable, looking nothing like she had when she spent her days hosting her vitriolic radio talk show where she had ranted and raved about everything from abortions to Superman being an illegal immigrant. She could have given Tori Lahren a run for her money.

And there, on the roof an apartment building that had been left vacant for renovations was none other than Scott, looking terrified as he gawked at the electricity bending woman. He had a microphone clutched tightly in his hand as though he had been on the roof when the villainess attacked.

Derek had hoped to spare a few moments analyzing the situation before acting but his plans were spoiled by one of the first responders. One of the police officers had pointed him out and joyously called, "Look! It's Superman."

Despite wanting to roll his eyes at the fact that the officer had just informed Livewire to his presence, Derek launched into action. He dove at Livewire who snarled at him indignantly, flicking a few strikes of electricity at him as he rushed at her.

Fortunately, the electricity didn't do much other than annoy him a bit, sending a few tiny jolts through him. That is, until she intensified the strength of the current, hurling a huge bolt at him that resembled a strike of lightning.

It struck him in the chest, shocking him into a halt and a premature fall to the concrete roof of the apartment building with a loud crack. He heard a few startled gasps from Scott on the other side of the roof as he pushed himself to his feet and shook himself.

He took another minute to reassess the situation as his fingers twitched with the aftershocks of the assault, glancing around the rooftop. The first thing he noticed was that the stone of the roof was crumbling, the second thing he noticed was that Scott wasn't alone.

There was another man on the roof with him, tall and lean in a red plaid shirt and khakis that looked more skintight than Derek's own outfit. His brown hair was artfully disheveled, dark in contrast to the pale white of his mole dotted skin that immediately reminded Derek of a marble statue.

His big brown eyes were alight with a fierce fire of determination as he watched Livewire, his brows furrowed in concentration. Derek noticed that his plush pink lips were moving rapidly as he frantically whispered something to Scott, squeezing the other reporter's shoulder.

Derek was captivated. The man was so gorgeous, the mere sight of him drowned out everything else.

Everything else including Livewire getting ready to zap him with an even stronger hit of electricity, tendrils of blue sparks coiling around her hands to form a large ball. She stalked closer silently, a wide smirk stretching across her dark lips, making her look almost demonic.

Derek never would have even noticed if it hadn't been for the other reporter with Scott. Standing up taller, he cupped his hands around his mouth and called to Derek, "Dude, watch out!"

Derek turned just in time to see Livewire standing over him, a twisted grin on her face as she prepared to shock him. But before she could, Derek swiped her legs out from under her, making her topple to the ground with a banshee-like screech.

They grappled for a few moments, Livewire forgoing using any of her superhuman abilities in the heat of the moment, instead favoring clawing at Derek's face while shrieking. Derek didn't even bother using all of his own preternatural strength to subdue her, able to pin her arms behind her without it.

He secured her wrists with one of the reinforced zip ties his good friend Batman had given him, reminding Derek to send him a fruit basket. Her powers neutralized, Livewire kicked and screamed as Derek carried her down to the street to the army of police officers who took her into custody and Mirandized her.

With Livewire in the backseat of a police cruiser, Derek hurried back to the roof to rescue the two reporters, worried that the roof might cave in. He hovered over the roof as he made his way to Scott and his friend who was grumbling something so quietly that even Derek couldn't hear him.

"Superman!" Scott called out in relief, visibly sagging as he sighed. He looked exhausted, like the slightest breeze might knock him over.

His friend, on the other hand, looked furious. He had his arms crossed over his chest as he glared at Derek, making him hesitate for a moment in fear that the unknown reporter was one of the people who hated Superman.

"Are you two, alright?" Derek asked as he approached them, lighting down on the roof a few feet away from them. He was a bit wary, not sure how the unknown man might react.

"We're fine," the other reporter growled snappishly, giving Derek an unimpressed once over. He sauntered over to Derek, poking him in the chest with every word, "I didn't need you saving me, y'know. My buddy here might be a little helpless, no offense, Scotty, but I can take care of myself."

Derek bit down on a smile, ducking his head at the indignant tone. He could hear fond exasperation underscoring every word so he didn't take any offense, instead pressing his luck and inquiring, "Is there anything I can do to make it up to, Mr..."

"Stilinski," the man answered immediately, a small smirk curling up the corner of his lip. The smirk growing, he tacked on, "And you could start by going to dinner with me this Saturday. Eight o'clock at the diner on Fourth and Kent."

"I'll be there," Derek grinned widely. He had grown used to saving Scott so it was only fitting that Scott's friend saved him from yet another Saturday night alone.

#super!derek #superman!derek #reporter!stiles #superman au #derek saves stiles #incompetent!scott #getting together #first meetings #Anonymous

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roobierubyroobieruby · 7 years

Text

How The Story Ends

Pairing: Credence Barebone x Reader (platonic)

Word Count: 5,454 (not sorry)

Warnings: physical abuse, angst, broken Credence, magic attack

Summary: You had met Credence in the same home when you were young, having lost touch when he was adopted by Mary-Lou Barebone. Years later in New York, you meet him once again, but how long until he’s taken from you once more?

A/N: So I wrote this for @bewithme-forevermore‘s birthday!! Happy Birthday you wonderful Hufflepuff-ian human - I look forward to continue being lame with you :P (sorry this is late - I wanted it to be perfect before posting)

Also, I am writing this and alternating the story (does that count as AU?) a tiny bit, so it’s assumed knowledge that Credence is aware of his magic, also reader’s, and is aware of the important parts of the wizarding world. I still tried to honour the characters as they are with the changes, so feedback is immensely appreciated.

I used the song “Rescue Me” by Kerrie Roberts as inspiration for our precious cinnamon bun Credence.

While sitting around the apartment with Queenie one day, Tina had come bursting through the door. Immediately Queenie had begun racing around the apartment after her, having read Tina’s mind the minute she’d been close enough.

“Tina, please, calm down. We will think of something.”

Queenie’s soft voice cut through Tina’s chaotic reverie, her pacing paused.

“There is nothing else Queenie, I need to go there and help him!” Her voice was high with distress, her words breaking her out of her thoughts and springing her into action.

“Will someone explain what’s going on?” You felt like your voice was lost in the action, but it had a calming effect on the sisters who stopped and finally looked at you - remembering you were still there.

“It’s Credence.” Queenie stared at you, knowing how you’d react, torn between calming you or her sister.

“What’s wrong with him?! I have to help him if he’s in trouble!” You ran towards the front door, ripping your coat from the rack as Tina moved to follow you.

“It’s his adoptive mother, she’s beating him.” Tina’s voice was small, something you weren’t used to hearing from her.

You felt your stomach drop and your chest tighten as you pictured that sweet little boy frightened under the hateful hand of her.

You had met Credence in the same home, having both been found alone and without parents. He had been adopted by a vile woman - Mary Lou Barebone - whose name you couldn’t speak without having to fight back bile in your throat. You on the other hand were adopted by Tina and Queenie’s aunt and uncle, having been close in age to the girls so you were raised alongside each other, although you were still the youngest.

You had been close with Credence before he was adopted, and at the time you had opted to call him James since that’s what he wanted to be called until she changed it. You couldn’t maintain contact outside of the home and he quickly became a fond memory - one you couldn’t shake. When you moved to New York to live with the girls, you had become engrossed in the fast pace of the city, and all of the possibilities that were now before you, but every so often your mind would drift back to the sweet, little boy with the kind eyes and gentle heart.

One day, while walking through the bustling morning crowds, you noticed a parting around a young man, clad in black clothes with a short bowl cut, who seemed to be mumbling something about ‘New Salem’. As you got closer, your chest constricted at the sight of your childhood friend, who now seemed small and defeated, as if he himself had been shrunken.

“James?” Your voice sounded small, unsure, but he froze in place and slowly turned his head up to look at you. Recognition flashed across his eyes, but happiness was nowhere to be found. As fast as it was there, it was gone, and for a moment you thought you might’ve gotten the wrong person. Then you remembered the name she’d uttered the day she adopted him.

“Credence?” At that, he glanced up at you again, and you knew you had found him.

“(Y/N), how are you?”

He could barely look you in the eyes, constantly averting them to his surroundings, or more often his feet. You could see the hard lines of his cheeks and jaw, the dark shadows resting under his eyes, and you could faintly make out harsh red lines crossing across his palm. As if he felt your gaze, he closed his hand around the pamphlets, hiding his marks from view.

“I’m doing well actually, I live here with my cousins Queenie and Tina in a small apartment not too far from here, and I have a good job too. Hey, did you want to go and get a drink?”

You moved to reach out and touch his elbow, hoping to relax some of the tension and discomfort he appeared to be feeling, but as you got closer, you saw him flinch, shrinking into himself as if he were scared of you.

You pulled your hand away, letting it drop to your side, trying to not let the sting of rejection hit too hard. He doesn’t know you anymore, you were children a long time ago, so it wasn’t fair of you to assume you could be that familiar with him anymore.

“Or if you’re busy that’s ok, we can catch up another time.” You let your voice drop as you took a step back, putting some distance between the two of you.

“Um, well I guess if you’re ever available and want to catch up then you can come and see me at MACUSA, just ask for (Y/F/N) (Y/L/N). It’s in the Woolworth Building downtown.”

He still hadn’t made a move to look at you, or give much of an indication that he had an interest in reconnecting, but something didn’t seem right either.

“Credence?”

He looked up again, his shoulders hunched and tense, “can I come by tomorrow?”

A smile broke out across your face, excitement causing your stomach to feel like it was doing flips.

“Of course! Anytime you want, I’ll be at my desk. I look forward to seeing you Credence, it’s been too long.”

Although part of you hoped he would show, his behaviour hadn’t gone unnoticed and your rational self feared he wouldn’t. Come the end of your day, you were beginning to pack up your things, when one of the administrators strode up to your desk.

“Excuse me Miss (YN), there’s a Mr Credence Barebone here to see you? Do you want me to send him through?”

You put down your things on your desk, “Oh yes of course! Thank you so much for telling me Linda.” You smiled at her as you sat down, your hands fidgeting and straightening your already neat desk.

He’d approached your desk slowly, cautiously glancing around before standing by the spare chair in front of you, his hands nervously shuffling a hat.

“Hi Credence, I’m so happy to see you! Please feel free to sit down.” You stood at your desk, gesturing to the empty chair, smiling at him as he inched his way over to the chair and sitting rather stiffly.

As you moved to sit back down in your chair, your excitement over seeing your childhood friend caused you to miss your seat, and you desperately grasped at your desk as you fell. Your backside hit the ground with a thud as your chair slid backwards with a loud screech.

You heard a small giggle, barely audible so you thought it was imagined, yet as you pulled yourself up by your desk, while pulling your chair in to rest your sore behind on, you looked over at Credence and saw the hint of a smile on his face.

He had a small flecks of red splashed across his cheeks, and when he saw you looking, the smile was gone and he averted his eyes to the floor, but it warmed your heart. He had laughed. You didn’t feel any soreness anymore, and you felt your own laughter bubbling up as you broke out in a fit. You covered your mouth, to control the hyena sounds coming out, but it only made you laugh harder.

In hearing your laughter, Credence looked up and you could see him fighting a smile, but he lost - and it was beautiful. The way he smiled, as if happiness were radiating from his face for the first time in God knows how long, and you didn’t want it to stop.

Soon, you were laughing together, more you than he, and any unease either of you had felt before this moment melted away. After that moment, you were talking non-stop talking about life - he wanted to listen more so than talk - and you began to see behind the wall he had meticulously constructed around himself. He was still the sweet boy you had met in the group home, but too soon he said he had to get back to his home before his mother started asking where he was. The uneasiness crept back into his form - his shoulders tensing up, his fidgeting returned - and you moved around your desk to stand in front of him. Here, he was still taller than you but when you hugged him, your head fit comfortably on his shoulder. You held him tight, sensing he needed the assurance, as you felt his arm snake around your back and his head rest against the crook of your neck.

“I’m here for you Credence. I’ll give you my address and I want you to come and see me here or at home whenever you need me ok?”

You heard him mumble a quiet thank you before he pulled away, giving you a tight smile, then he walked back the way he had come in. You watched his retreating form, a sense of sadness invading your mind and heart as you felt helpless for one of the first times in your life.

Credence made it a point to visit you often, although he explained that he couldn’t visit every day lest he raise his mother’s suspicions, and soon you considered him your best friend, the two of you easing into a comfortable routine.

You had run out of the apartment after Tina, fear and adrenaline coursing through you as she used her magic to transport the both of you to the street closest to the Barebone house without getting spotted. Your lungs felt like they were on fire, with the urge to bite your nails strong as you thought over what you might find inside the house.

Tina had entered first as you both trekked silently through the house, when you finally got to the scene that replayed in your mind in your nightmares. Credence cowering beneath her, the belt in her hand swinging, the angry red welts across his pale skin. You had just about lost all remnants of self-control, and yet it was Tina who reacted first - with magic. The shock of her actions snapped you out of your angry thoughts, not even sparing a glance at his mother, as you ran to his side. Tina got to him at the same time, her hand slowly reaching out to comfort his shaking form.

“Credence? Are you ok? Talk to me, please?” your voice sounded small, pleading with him to look at you or give you any kind of indication as to where his mind was.

“James?”

It had worked barely once before, you foolishly hoped it might be enough to draw him into you, to take him back to a simpler time where he was safe.

Almost as if it were magic itself, he leaned into you, his head resting against your chest as his hand curled around your arm. His violent shuddering remained, sobs racking his entire body, and you felt your heart breaking. You smoothed down his hair, moving yourself so you could cradle him against you and run your hand up and down his back, making quiet shushing noises.

Seeing him react to you like this, Tina nodded at you glumly as she stood up to meet the MACUSA who were already here to assess the situation. You had hoped that they would see this for what it was, but you also knew the way the MACUSA mind worked and you had been right. They obliviated all witnesses before demoting Tina - to her distress - but seeing as you had not committed any form of magic in the presence of the No-Maj, you were cleared of serious repercussions. You were instead placed on temporary suspension for aiding Tina, which you gladly accepted as it meant that Credence was safe, he was here with you.

The events of that night replayed in your mind almost constantly, wondering if you could have done anything differently to change his mind about staying there with her. He was persistent that he couldn’t leave, and whenever you brought it up, he withdrew into himself a little more, beginning to unravel the progress you’d made in getting through his walls. So you stopped asking, instead just accepting the fact he knew you were there for him and hoped it would be enough some day.

He still visited you as regularly as possible, but that began to dwindle over time with no explanation, and when he did visit he kept them short and he seemed distant, as if his mind were somewhere else. You feared the worst, that the abuse had become more violent, but he insisted that wasn’t happening and he was just caught up in the New Salemer’s work.

Eventually, he stopped coming altogether.

Your worry only grew over time, unable to believe that Credence was busy with the work of the New Salemer’s, which left you with only one option - follow him. It wasn’t your greatest plan, but you felt it was the only way you would be able to see for yourself if it was really as innocent as he claimed, or whether some of your nightmares were coming to fruition.

You told your boss you felt ill, and you were careful to appear slow and laboured in your movements to those who were around you as you left MACUSA, to be sure you wouldn’t be stopped on the way. Out on the busy streets, you had no trouble in navigating the crowds as you headed towards the New Salem house, sure that you would either see Credence on the way there or you would see him leave.

Sure enough, you watched his form exit down the steps of the New Salem house, his shoulders hunched over in a familiar fashion you had come to recognize and despise, and you began to follow him as he made his way down the street. You were careful, almost paranoid, that you yourself were being followed or that you would be seen, but you didn’t have long to wait before he turned down into an alley. As you got closer, you saw one of the MACUSA bigwigs, Percival Graves, appear, causing a barrage of questions to rack your brain.

You considered the possibility of getting closer to overhear the conversation, but a man like Graves doesn’t get to the top of MACUSA for being stupid - he would most likely have some form of shield around the area to ward off the curious or block the conversation altogether. With a frustrated sigh, you opted to walk away. There was nothing you could do here, no reason to confront Credence and definitely no reason to demand answers from a man like Graves.

As you walked home, you were thinking of possible reasons that Graves would be interested in talking to Credence in private. First and foremost, you were hoping that Graves had investigated the incident involving you and Tina and had realized the seriousness of it, causing him to want to help. Of course he would have to gain Credence’s trust and have him divulge the information he needed in order to shut down the operation, or even just to get him out. But why hadn’t Graves sought you or Tina out to help? It was obvious you already had an established connection with Credence, so it would be more efficient to have you on board. Unless Graves didn’t want your involvement to taint the case. Tina wasn’t allowed near the Second Salemer’s at all, so it would make sense to keep her out of it, for her sake and for Credence’s.

Your mind raced in circles, so much so that you didn’t even realize that you had already arrived at your building and were trudging up the stairs to see an anxious Queenie waiting by the open door.

“I could hear you from the street, you’re so loud. Come inside and let’s get you warmed up.”

The days turned to weeks, and you had a lot of things to balance in your life - namely the quirky British man, and the No-Maj, who Tina had brought home one night. You and Queenie were shocked, more so that Tina had broken the rules than anything else. The other thing was that MACUSA was on high alert due to the strange occurrences all over New York. They were guessing some form of magical attack - possibly Grindelwald - but Graves was hesitant to agree and seem more inclined to believe it was some sort of beast. Time spent with Newt allowed you to quickly and confidently dismiss this theory.

After the attack on Senator Henry Shaw Jr., MACUSA went into a full melt down - all hands on deck. Although you weren’t an Auror, you were still required to take on extra tasks until the culprit - or culprits - were brought to justice.

Working furiously at your desk one afternoon, Queenie came rushing to you and grabbed at your arm discretely, to avoid attention.

“We gotta go. Tina and Newt are about to be executed and I’ve got Jacob.”

With a nod, you moved around your desk, grabbing only the essentials, and briskly exited the floor.

After many near misses, you finally had Tina and Newt and you all climbed into his case to make your escape from MACUSA. You thought the hard part might have been over, but unfortunately you still had one more of Newt’s beasts to find, and the help you needed was available from one of Tina’s old informants. Reluctantly, you tagged along, the idea of going to a bar where the patrons sell whatever they can for the highest price making your skin prickle with anxiety. By now you would all be wanted by MACUSA, with lovely prices for information, but Newt needed to find his beast and you wanted to help keep them all safe. You were all in this together.

Seeing both a Demiguise and an Occamy inside the Macy’s roof was something you never thought you’d ever see, or say, and then you had to catch them both which was certainly an adventure if you ever thought of one. It was something else entirely to see all of Newt’s creatures inside the case, and you felt a sense of overwhelming peace watching him and Jacob tend to these creatures with such love and care that you questioned why you ever believed the idea that all magical creatures were deadly. Lost in your thoughts, you were jolted back to reality when Newt’s Thunderbird Frank sensed danger, squawking and causing a storm - literally - in his warning.

Racing outside and teleporting to the rooftop, you bore witness to an Obscurus flying rampant through New York and leaving a trail of destruction in its wake. Watching both Newt and Tina take off after it, you turned to Queenie and gave her a small smirk before you stepped off the edge and followed after them, leaving Queenie and Jacob to watch Newt’s case. You never were one for missing out on the action.

Arriving at the intersection where the Obscurus stopped, you slid next to Tina as you watched Graves appear in front of the Obscurus, his stance relaxed as he spoke to it.

“Credence -”

You heard Graves say his name, as your heart stopped inside your chest and your lungs froze. You couldn’t hear anything as you peered out from behind your safety to stare at the Obscurus. This couldn’t possibly be the sweet boy you had known as a child, not James. You felt Tina grab your arm, obviously in an attempt to break you out of your trance, but it was no use. You felt sick to your core at the idea that your beautiful, sweet James was so abused - so broken by his mother - that he became an Obscurial. You fought back tears and pressed your nails into your palms, letting the biting pain draw you back to reality as you hear Tina tell New to save him before stepping out to fend off Graves.

“I’m coming with you.”

You gave Newt no time to argue, stepping next to him and grabbing his arm as he teleported the both of you after Credence.

As you stepped inside the subway station, you had to stop yourself from running to the black mass against the wall and begging Credence to come with you. Newt held you back, asking you to stay back out of harm’s way in case the obscurus lashed out, but you were sure Credence wouldn’t intentionally hurt you, he wouldn’t let the obscurus hurt you. Rather than overwhelm him, you let Newt do what he does best - calm a beast. Even though Credence was as far from a beast as possible, the obscurus was another matter.

You held your breath as Newt coaxed Credence out, calming him enough that the obscurus disappeared, and your heart plummeted in your chest as you saw his shaking form appear on the tracks. Your hands gripped the wall as you stepped towards the tracks, but you were thrown back by a spell. You heard Newt grunting as he fended off the attacker, but you were left scrambling trying to stop the room from spinning. You hadn’t heard anyone coming, nor seen anyone, but you had been so focused on Credence that it was highly likely you hadn’t even been paying attention to your surroundings.

You heard Graves’s voice ring out through the tunnel as your hand wrapped around your wand, but Credence was nowhere to be found. Your eyes frantically searched the surroundings from your position on the ground, rolling over and forcing yourself up to lean against the wall, before black cloud exploded from further in the tunnel. Newt teleported to you, grabbing you as he expertly weaved through the tunnel to avoid the obscurus’s attack.

Your brain was scrambling trying to understand what happened while you were on the ground whilst denying that this was even Credence to begin with. Even though you’d heard and seen enough, you still could not believe that this was Credence lashing out to hurt anyone who was close enough. Not the sweet boy who sat with you at your desk and laughed. Not the boy who came to visit you and gradually began to open himself up to you. Not the boy who cried into your chest after you saved him from his mother. Not this boy. Not your Credence.

When the obscurus had ceased the attack, you heard a crowd of footsteps approaching as you practically ran from Newt towards Credence. You could save him, you were sure of it. This couldn’t be how his story ends. You tried to say something, anything, to him but no words would form. You heard Tina come up behind you, gently touching your arm as she spoke to him. You could hear her voice cracking as she tightened her grip on you, using you to keep herself together. You felt wet tracks down your cheeks, the ache in your chest feeling as though it was going to crush you, and yet all you could think was “save him, save Credence”.

As the obscurus began to fade, you heard Madam Picquery give the order to fire, and you felt yourself fighting Tina to run to him. You struggled, throwing yourself forward in a weak attempt to break free. You felt your muscles burning as you used every ounce of energy you had to try and get to Credence but Tina, and now Newt, held strong.

As the spells made contact, you heard Credence scream. You felt it tear into your skull and rip through your body as you fell to your knees - your own scream blending with his. Tina fell with you, supporting you while she silently cried. Your tears streamed down hot and heavy, the weight of the world on your shoulders as you shook violently from your sobs. You could hear yourself crying, loudly calling out for the boy who wasn’t there anymore, in the silence that followed. You couldn’t feel anything anymore, nor could you hear anything.

When you finally opened your eyes, flakes of black cloud were floating around the tunnel, tearing new holes in your broken heart as you finally saw what was left of your Credence. No. What was left of your James. Your tears fell silently now, having no energy to scream out. You questioned whether you had the energy to breathe anymore.

You took in the scene in front of you: Graves fending off Aurors, Newt and Tina now standing in defense. You felt fear for Newt and Tina, but seeing them disarm Graves eased the worry only for it to replaced with more grief. You felt like it was consuming you alive.

Upon seeing Graves disarmed, you realized that none of this would have happened if Graves hadn’t of sought Credence out. Your grief swelled to anger as you rose and drew out your wand. You felt like you were ready to kill him, you didn’t care what the cost was. Before you could act, Tina snatched your wand and pulled you into her chest, whispering, “Credence wouldn’t want this.”

You tried to hold onto your anger, revelling in the idea of seeking justice for your James - the boy who never got to be truly happy - but you knew Tina was right. This was no way to honour him.

While thoughts of your encounters with James flashed through your mind, the ache of grief once again settling itself into your heart, you saw Newt approach Graves who was suddenly changing right in front of your eyes. His dark, greying hair suddenly becoming stark white, his face widening, and you realized the face you were staring at was the same one posted on every wanted poster around the wizarding world - Grindelwald.

Grindelwald.

Grindelwald was right in front of you. He was the reason your friend was gone. You gripped Tina’s arm tightly, a fury of emotions waging war inside your head as you struggled to move, to breathe. You felt a small sense of satisfaction when the Aurors scooped him up to take him away, and you watched as Madam Picquery approached the three of you.

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

You barely registered her words, your eyes stuck now focusing on what was left of him. James. You didn’t save him. You didn’t get to change his story. It ended here, in a dark tunnel surrounded by strangers where he was killed without question, without remorse. Killed as if he were a wild beast. Pain ripped through you again as you felt Queenie wrap her arms around you, knowing she was hearing the storm of emotions running through you.

Without another word, you teleported yourself back home, just wanting to be somewhere safe where you could grieve in peace without a horde of eyes watching you crumble into yourself.

You collapsed against your door as soon as you shut it, cries racking your body as you struggled to take in every breath. He was gone. It was all that would repeat in your head as you replayed his screams over and over. In his death, you died too, you could feel it. You don’t know how long you sat there, but soon the afternoon light faded into darkness, and you could make no move to illuminate the room. You had no need. He was gone, and you couldn’t save him.

You heard a small knock on the door, recognizing it as Queenie, and you inched away as she slowly slid it open. Without a word, she helped you up into bed, placing a hot cocoa on the nightstand and cracking open the window the let fresh air through. With a light kiss on the cheek, she exited the room, leaving you to your grieving solitude.

It felt like it wouldn’t end, but soon enough you had exhausted yourself to the point you slept. Your dreams were filled with his screams - him begging you to save him but you being too late - as you watched him disappear from the tunnel. You had to relive that moment over and over before finally sleep relinquished its hold.

You snapped open your eyes, feeling clammy from the cool air against your sweat-drenched skin. As you moved to turn onto your side, you noticed a black figure crouched in the corner of your room. Panic set in as you reached for your wand, ready to attack if need be. As your eyes adjusted to the moonlight streaming in, you felt your heart burst as you took in the familiar sharp cheek bones and jaw line, the dark shadows under the eyes, and the familiar hunched shoulders.

“James?”

As if in response, his head shot up from his arms, his body shaking.

Your body moved on autopilot, leaping from your bed as you ran to him, you threw yourself at him and pulled him into your arms.

You saw him disintegrate, or die, or whatever happened. You saw it. You felt his arms snake around your back, pulling you closer to him as you both cried on each other’s shoulders. You noted the way he felt curled against you, the way he sounded. You couldn’t hold him tight enough, and you were scared to let go lest this was in your head.

“Are you real?”

You felt him nod against you, a new wave of tears flooding down your face.

His slim frame, you realized, was bare, so you removed your own shirt for him to put on as you raced to your closet for a replacement.

“I’m going to go and find you some pants, but we will get you into bed first ok?”

He nodded again, your eyes averting as he stood and climbed into your bed. You could barely get yourself to leave the room, scared he would disappear while you were gone, but you found some old mens pants that used to be your father’s in one of the old boxes kept lying around the apartment. You ran back to your room, scared to find the bed empty, instead feeling relief flood through you as you took in Credence’s form curled up under the blanket.

You held out the pants to him as he slid them on before he held up the blanket in a silent invitation for you to join him. Without hesitation, you slid in next to him as he put his arm under the pillow to rest under your head, the other snaking over your side to pull you close into his chest. You did the same, breathing him in out of both fear and relief - fear this wasn’t real, and relief that it was.

“You saved me.”

He was so quiet, you thought you had imagined it.

“I didn’t do anything Credence, I didn’t do anything and it’s all my fault.”

You felt yourself break down again, reliving the moment you thought he had died, as you looked up at his face. Seeing his own tears, you brought your hand up to wipe them away, softly touching his face to make doubly sure this wasn’t a dream.

You heard him sigh, “you saved me because you gave me hope that I could be free. You gave me something to hold onto.”

With that, he tightened his grip around you, as if scared you were going to leave, and you did the same. He was back. James was back. He was here and you were never going to leave him again.

You felt unconsciousness pull you back under, except this time your dreams were filled with images of him coming back to you, never having died in the first place.

The following morning, listening in to your thoughts from the other side of the door, Queenie saw colours floating through your dreams as you dreamt of Credence. Even though you relived his death over and over again, he never died. Instead he survived and came back to you every time. She felt another mind in the room, causing her alarm as she quietly slid the door open to check on you. As she looked over to your bed, she saw your small frame curled up against Credence himself, the both of you intertwined every which way possible. Her heart fluttered, feeling your peace radiate through your brain and into your dreams. She would get the details later, but for now you needed rest and she had a No-Maj to visit.

TAG LIST @bewithme-forevermore @palaiasaurus64

#credence barebone #credence x reader #fantastic beasts and where to find them #fbawtft #harry potter #credence barebone x reader #credence barebone x y/n #credence x y/n #harry potter fanfic #fantastic beasts and where to find them fanfic #fantastic beasts and where to find them fanfiction #credence barebone fanfic #credence barebone fanfiction

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gerxrdwxy · 7 years

Text

Without You Is How I Disappear - Frerard - Chapter 2

Read it on ao3

By PagebyPaige

Summary: I read an amazing fic that I thought was a mcr reunion fic that ended up being heart-shattering angst. Long story short, I decided I would rewrite the fic myself and end it the way I wished it had ended.

Word Count: 2706 Chapters: 2/? Language: English

•Fandoms: My Chemical Romance •Rating: Teen and Up Audiences •Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply •Categories: M/M •Characters: Frank Iero, Gerard Way, Bandit Way, Ray Toro, Lindsey Way - mention, Mikey Way •Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way, Frerard - relationship •Additional Tags: (Abbreviated version) Angst, Fluff, Angst with Fluff, mcr reunion, Resolved Angst, tagging is hard

Frank wobbled where he stood, his legs shaking and his feet trembling against the side of the bridge. He was so unsteady that he promptly fell backwards, his intent for the bridge struck from his mind when he saw the person he least expected to see walking towards him. He fell through the arms that tried to catch him, promptly on to the pavement. He must’ve spent a lot more time walking than he thought, considering who he saw.

Gerard gingerly lifted the smaller man up by his arms, pulling him into a tight hug. Silently, Gerard walked him back, past his car. Confused, Frank looked up. How he could’ve missed it, he had no idea, but the bridge couldn’t have been more than a couple hundred yards from Gerard’s house.

—

All Gerard saw as they walked back was Frank careening forward, tumbling over the side of the bridge. He couldn’t believe he had let it come to this. What was he even doing, living alone with Bandit in the middle of California? He should’ve been in Jersey, making music with his favorite people in the world. Gerard didn’t find happiness away from the band. He felt just as he did back in 2001, hopeless and alone. He needed his band just as much now as he did then. And he knew Frank did too.

Frank. He needed Frank. He missed the tiny man’s smile, his never-ending energy when they played. He missed sharing a tiny bunk because neither of them could sleep, Mikey grumbling when the vocalist was woken up next to his rhythm guitarist. Gerard missed the crowds, his songs, his friends, and Frank. Gerard missed everything about MCR, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to admit it.

—

They reached Gerard’s house, both men were crying, and Gerard kicking at the ground as they walked. Without even a discussion, Gerard booked tickets for three back to New Jersey. Gerard called his brother, arranging for him, Frank, and Bandit to stay with Mikey for now. Until then, Frank would stay with Gerard and Bandit.

“Why?” Frank broke the heavy silence, his voice cracking under the weight of the word.

“Why what?” Gerard tried his best not to snap back, but his voice was still strung taut.

“Why are you coming?”

“Frank, I hope you realize that I need it just as much as you do. I talked to Mikey about it a while ago, and he’s all for it. Ray will of course be on board, and obviously we need you. Plus, I need to go back to Jersey too.”

Frank was blown completely away by how well Gerard read him. To his surprise, Gerard wrapped an arm securely around his shoulders.

“Frankie,” Frank’s cheeks were tinted rose just from the nickname. “I need you. It’s been six years, and I can’t do this anymore. If you’re up for it, I want to try again.”

“W-with the band, or…” Frank trailed off, too afraid of hoping to utter the remainder of his question.

“Both.” Gerard answered, giving Frank everything he had been needing for six years in one word.

Frank flipped around to where he faced Gerard and locked his arms tightly behind the taller man’s head. Gerard’s slipped easily around Frank’s back, pulling him close. Frank raised himself up on his tiptoes and kissed Gerard, just as easily as it was twelve years earlier. His fingers knotted themselves in Gerard’s hair, and he pulled back to breathe.

“Keep your hair long?”

“Only if you lose the mustache.”

Frank smiled against Gerard’s lips as the two kissed once again.

“So, the new album.” Frank loved the words against his lips. “Is there a theme? A hair color?” Gerard giggled and Frank felt it as his body shook gently.

“I don’t know yet, but at least I’ll be doing it with you.” Frank now had his face buried in Gerard’s chest (because at 5'6" he was the perfect chest-burying height) and Gerard could feel his smile.

At that moment Bandit came running in. The ten-year-old looked so different from when Frank had last seen her at age four.

“Dad?” She cocked her head at Gerard, whose arms were still around Frank.

“Bandit, this is Frank. You remember him, right?” To Frank’s surprise, Bandit’s eyes lit up with recognition.

She turned to point at Frank. “You let me play your guitar!”

“Yeah, I did.”

“But why are you here?” Bandit was of course confused as to why he was in her house, wrapped around her father.

“I-” Frank was at a loss for words. Gerard came to his rescue.

“Bandit, Frank is my best friend and I really missed him so he came back. In fact, we’re going to take a trip with him in just a couple days! Until then, he’s gonna stay with us, okay?” Bandit nodded her understanding and then proceeded to shock everyone in the room with spontaneity present only in the inexplicable mind of a ten-year-old.

“Do you love him?” Both Gerard and Frank’s jaws dropped.

“Do I- do I love him?” Gerard was obviously caught off guard, and the room was dead silent. Then Frank felt Gerard’s grip tighten around him as he said, “Yes, I think I do.”

“Good.” Bandit seemed satisfied with herself and went back to wherever she had come from.

Frank looked up at Gerard.

“Really?” He asked the taller man tentatively.

“Yes. Frank Iero, I love you.” By then, Frank was smiling so much that he could barely respond when Gerard kissed him once again.

—

Frank helped Gerard make dinner, clean up, put Bandit to bed, and even hummed softly in the background as Gerard sang her to sleep. He noticed immediately with a grin what the “lullaby” was. Demolition Lovers. Of course Gerard would sing to his ten-year-old daughter his own song which was by now almost double her age. Wow, Frank thought, that song is 18 years old. Holy shit.

After making sure she was soundly sleeping, Frank and Gerard shuffled slowly together towards Gerard’s bedroom. At the door, Frank started to turn back, to sleep on the couch. Gerard grabbed his shoulder, steering Frank into his bedroom. As soon as they crossed the threshold, Gerard wrapped his arms around Frank’s neck, pulling him close.

“I don’t know what I was thinking, earlier.” Gerard sounds so completely done with himself. He looks at the floor in shame. Frank hooks a finger under his chin and tilts his head back up, even though now he can’t look Gerard in the eye anymore.

“Gerard… I wish I could say it’s okay, but I don’t really know what you were thinking either. To be fair, though, I’m sorry too.”

“No, Frank, I’ve been there. I know how it feels to be that desperate. I never should have let things go this far, I shouldn’t have pushed you away.”

“Why did you then?” Frank’s question was nearly absorbed into the soft material of Gerard’s t-shirt. He thought at first that Gerard didn’t even hear it when from above his head came the almost mumbled reply.

“I couldn’t let myself love you.” Certainly not the response Frank was expecting.

“Why’s that?”

“I convinced myself it was just rebound, after my split with Lindsey.” Gerard sighed, preparing himself for what he would say next. “Truth be told, I couldn’t admit it but Lindsey was rebound for you.” Frank blushed gently against Gerard’s chest. “I didn’t know how to function after we broke up, so I got with a girl. Then, I felt guilty when I married her and all I could think about was how much I wished it was you. I couldn’t look at you anymore without thinking about that, so I split up the band. That just hurt me and you even more, and by then I was an emotional wreck. Lindsey and I weren’t working out, so we ended it. The only good thing about life was Bandit. After all that, it seemed like you wanting to come back into my life was just life playing a cruel joke on me, when I obviously forgot that you never intended to leave it in the first place-” Frank interrupted Gerard’s monologue by crashing their lips together again. When they pulled apart, Frank said his piece.

“Gerard, it’s okay. We’ve both been through some tough shit in the past few years. What I know is that you saved my life today. What I also know is that MCR saved all of our lives, and I think it has the potential to do that again. Lastly, I’ve waited almost ten years to kiss you again, and I’m not letting that go to waste. I never wanted to leave in the first place, and I’m sure as hell not leaving now.” Frank grabs his hand and drags them both to Gerard’s bed. “Gerard, I joined MCR because I loved it and I loved you. Both of those things are still true today, so let’s go back to Jersey and fix what never should’ve been broken in the first place.” Frank finished his speech, looking rather proud of himself. Gerard laughed.

“Okay, well if we’re done giving novel-worthy speeches, I’d like to get back to kissing you.” Frank lay in the bed of his (ex)ex-boyfriend, the two of them curled around each other, the happiest they’d both been in probably six years.

http://archiveofourown.org/works/10169528/chapters/22590992

#my fic #fanfic #ao3 #frerard #mcr #my chemical romance #angst #fluff #my writing #chapter 2

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amoretheiwa · 7 years

Text

The Dark Knight and the Boy Scout

On time! For once! Here’s the end of my pre-written stuff so hopefully, I can get back ahead before next week. Enjoy!

Read on AO3

Breanna Wayne is turning 23 years old. It has been 4 months since Batman fought the Joker. While getting to know someone new at her birthday party, the contraption the media has taken to calling the Batsignal (thanks a lot, Gordon) lights up the sky. In the name of safety, Breanna sends her guests home and dons the cowl—only to run into the Man of Steel himself just a few hours after taking care of the situation. It turns out they’re both looking for the same thing, and Breanna reluctantly agrees to work with him for just this case.

Chapter 2: Enter Last Son of Krypton B

Close to two hours later and they walked out into the hallway, just 30 minutes before the gala was supposed to start. One of the people working for Ms. Iverson had directed a very shocked delivery boy to the upstairs at one point when the two women had ordered pizza. Even though there was going to be food at the party, it was considered rude to eat too much and it was not uncommon for guests to eat a small meal on their own beforehand.

Now, however, there was no reconciliation image of the two women messily eating pizza in sweats and t-shirts just an hour or so ago. Lois was wearing a dark red gown with no fancy beadwork or design on it. The neckline was cut close to the base of her neck, and instead of a regular sleeveless cut where the fabric would just end at her shoulders, it came in with a sharp point accentuating her shoulders. It was a little longer than floor-length and her shimmery gold heels peeked out with every other step that revealed toenails that matched the color of her dress. Her black hair was pinned back, the ends gently curled.

Breanna’s dress was a lighter fabric but just as dark but a blue rather than red. There was a slit that showed some cleavage and from the front that seemed to be it but the back was a rather sizeable cutout that stopped just above her hips. Her hair, with its natural curl, was pinned in a half-up-half-down look that showed plenty of her back’s skin. Her dress was the same length as Lois’ but with her extra two inches on the woman, her silver heels were visible with every step. Her toenails, like Lois’, matched the color her dress.

Where Lois wore a simple sparkling silver chain on her left wrist and a pair of gold and diamond earrings, Breanna had a thick, dull, silver bangle on both arms. A set of slim silver rings—just individual bands—on a few fingers added to the look, and her earrings were like a sheet of glowing silver that hung to just above her shoulders.

Their makeup was simple, the most attention paid to their sharp eyeliner and false eyelashes that had been placed masterfully. They were giggling, whispering to each other as they walked into the foyer. The door was open, and the event planner stopped her conversation with the head of security to stare at them for a moment. She excused herself quickly and caught them before they walked into the ballroom.

“Miss Wayne! Miss Lane!”

They both stopped, waiting for her.

“If I may say, you both look gorgeous tonight,” she began with a rushed breath. Breanna smiled, and Lois thanked her.

“Before you two enter the ballroom and truly finish preparing for tonight, I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday Miss Wayne.”

Breanna smiled again and put a hand on the woman’s shoulder.

“Thank you, Racheal. This wouldn’t have been the same without you. Remember, once all the guests have arrived, you are more than welcome to join us. You look stunning yourself.”

Breanna gave the woman a once-over with her eyes and ignored the light blush that it brought forth on her dark cheeks.

Lois made a face at Breanna as they turned and walked into the ballroom. Breanna ignored her as well and waved at the quartet who were warming up. They would be performing throughout the night, and Breanna was finally feeling herself get excited. She had not allowed herself to celebrate her birthday in many years, and when she had it was more for others than for her own enjoyment.

Less than an hour later and everyone was there, even those with a tendency to show up fashionably late. Breanna greeted all of her guests with the courtesy her parents had instilled in her before their passing, and it was with a twinge in her heart that she made small talk with a few old family friends. It was with partial relief that she noticed a tall blonde man stumbled his way in her direction.

“Excuse me, if you will Mr. and Mrs. Hendrickson. I have a friend to see,” she said with a smile. It was with a forced air of joviality that Breanna greeted Oliver Queen. He for once did not ignore her hand as it was stuck out in a handshake, and they both squeezed a little tighter than necessary.

“Ollie, good to see you well!” She said.

“Not as good as it is to see you, Bre.”

“How are things in Star City? Business going well?”

He nodded, eyes sweeping behind her.

“Things are pretty swell, even with Queen Consolidated. What about here, in Gotham? How’s Wayne Inc going?”

Breanna pulled her hand back, making a show of rubbing it on her dress.

“Gotham is Gotham, as always, and we’re about to change it to Wayne Enterprises soon.”

His eyebrows shot up as he redirected his attention back to her.

“Really? That’s an odd change.”

Breanna shrugged, grabbing two flutes of champagne as a server walked back. She handed on to him and took a sip before replying.

“It was time for a change.”

Before either could say something else, Lois appeared, towing someone as tall as Oliver over behind her. She grinned at Breanna and more or less pushed her into space next to Ollie. He had hair just as dark as Lois’ or Breanna’s, and blue eyes as well, but his face was smooth and handsome in ways Oliver’s was roguish. He wore a pair of glasses that Breanna immediately saw as fake, but as he nervously pushed them back up on his nose she recognized him as Clark Kent, a writer for the Daily Planet. Or, as Lois often referred to him, Smallville.

“Breanna, Mr. Queen, this is Clark Kent.”

As Oliver shook Lois’ offered hand, Breanna couldn’t tear her eyes away from Clark’s. He smiled at her and cleared his throat. When they shook hands, it wasn’t like when Oliver had tried to squeeze the life out of hers. His grip was gentle, and his hands were barely calloused. It took an extra second to fully pull her hand back but she swallowed before speaking.

“Wonderful to finally meet you, Clark.”

He flashed a smile that Breanna couldn’t help returning.

“Thank you for inviting me, Miss Wayne. Happy birthday, by the way.”

Breanna shook her head.

“Please, call me Breanna, and thank you.”

Oliver barked a laugh and Breanna turned to face him.

“That’s right! It’s your birthday, that’s why we’re here. Happy birthday, Bre! Maybe now that you’re older you’ll stop being so serious.”

Breanna closed her eyes and didn’t care that she was visibly losing her patience with the man. Lois’ suppressed laughter didn’t help and Breanna opened her eyes to see a waiting Oliver sharing a look with Clark.

“Tell me, Ollie, how long have you been back? Three months? Five?”

He narrowed his eyes at her and took his time answering.

“It’s been close to a year now.”

“Ah,” she said, raising a hand to brush against her chin. She turned to face Clark and Lois. “You see, Oliver here was presumed dead five years ago when his father’s ship was lost at sea. He was quite the party animal in his prime, but I never shared the same tastes.”

Oliver quirked his lips.

“Seems like you still don’t.”

He clapped his hands together.

“Well, with that, I think I’m going to find a different crowd to hang with. Ladies, Clark,” and with that he was gone. Breanna let loose a sigh and put a hand to her forehead.

Lois couldn’t stop herself anymore and let out a pealing laugh, and Clark looked back and forth between the two women.

“Am I missing something?” He asked, not unkindly. Breanna waved a hand at him.

“No, it’s no secret that Oliver and I have never gotten along. I’m sorry that you got somewhat involved in that, Clark.” He shook his head, pushing his glasses up on his nose again.

“No need to apologize.”

Lois glanced between the two and slung an arm around both of their shoulders, bringing the three of them awfully close—Clark was taller than Breanna and Breanna was taller than Lois.

“C’mon, let’s find somewhere better suited to talking.”

Ten minutes and three conversations later the trio finally found their way to the breakfast table in the Manor’s kitchen. It was a diner-like booth that curved so as to accommodate more people, while out of the main walkways of the rest of the kitchen. Breanna was sipping from a glass of almond milk, listening to Lois recount one of her funnier incidents that resulted in yet another rescue from Superman. Breanna laughed, moving her glass farther away from her face, and tried desperately not to snort. When they all calmed down and it was quiet, the heiress turned to face the newcomer.

“So, Clark, tell me—is Smallville really as small as Lois makes it sound?”

Clark glanced at his colleague with an exasperated expression. She just shrugged her shoulders and took a long drink from her glass of water.

“It probably isn’t if Lois has been exaggerating again. There’s a lot of farms so geographically wise it’s not so tiny but it’s the population that really makes the name match the place.”

Breanna nodded once and leaned forward.

“Did you grow up on a farm, then?”

Lois snorted and they looked at her.

“Bre, you’re looking at the most country boy you could hold to find this far north.”

Clark rolled his eyes and leaned back in his seat, swirling the water in his glass.

“I’ve adapted to city life fairly well,” he met Breanna’s eyes. “Mostly.”

“Mostly?” She asked, and he winced.

“There have been a few mishaps over the years,” he started. Lois chortled and sat forward.

“He just isn’t as lucky as me and doesn’t have Superman picking up after him.”

They all laughed, the conversation continued for another twenty minutes. It ranged from the differences between small town and big city life to the differences between Metropolis and Gotham. The topic had just turned to Batman and Superman when Alfred appeared behind Breanna.

“Miss Wayne, what is the point of hosting such an elaborate party if you yourself do not attend?”

Breanna leaned back, tilting her head so that she was looking at her surrogate father upside down. She grinned and he felt a twinge in his heart; it wasn’t often she was happy without some sort of regret or heavy air degrading the emotion.

“But Alfred, what’s the point of having a party if you can’t sneak away?”

He rolled his eyes and walked around the back of the booth, sliding in to sit next to his charge. She scooted over slightly, giving him more room, and he rested his hands on top of the table. Lois smiled at him.

“Alfred, this is Clark Kent. He works with me at the Daily Planet.”

Clark stood up just enough so that he could reach across the table and shake Alfred’s hand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Pennyworth.”

“The pleasure is all mine, and please, call me Alfred. I enjoy reading your articles, especially the culturally focused ones.”

Clark blushed a little, a light pink that dusted his entire face.

“Ah, thank you, sir. I never really got to travel as a kid and so when work sends me anywhere I’ve never been I try to learn about the culture, local and national, and end up writing an extra two articles.”

“Tell them about that time you almost ended up married to a chieftain’s daughter in the Amazon,” Lois elbowed him, grinning.

Clark groaned but Breanna didn’t let him get away with telling the story.

More time passed and eventually, Alfred nudged the three of them back out into the foyer, which had some people mingling but not nearly as many as were still in the ballroom. It was while they were there talking that Breanna noticed something that made her entire countenance shift. Lois noticed first and followed the young woman’s gaze through the windows over the door.

“Oh,” she said softly, and soon everyone in the foyer was also looking out at the Gotham skyline. The Batsignal was lit, throwing the shadow of a stylized bat against the permanent cloud cover. Breanna sighed and put a hand against her temple. Lois gave her a look, and she shook her head.

“I guess it’s time to send everyone home,” she said mournfully. Clark turned back to look at her, no longer as distracted as he had appeared the last few seconds.

“Why? If the Bat’s signal is up wouldn’t that mean it’d be safer to keep everyone here?”

Breanna shook her head, already turning towards the ballroom.

“The Batsignal goes up whenever the commissioner wants Batman’s help, and if could be something as little as information on a case or as big as the Joker showing up again. It’s better if my guests are safe at home than here, a potential target regardless of what is happening.”

Breanna took swift strides into the ballroom and it was obvious by the hushed chatter that the party goers had also noticed the light in the sky. She signaled the quartet and they paused their playing. It took almost a full minute but eventually, she had everyone’s attention. She took a deep breath and grinned, making sure to look at the entire room.

“Thank you, everyone, so much for coming and helping me celebrate my 23rd birthday. It has been wonderful chatting with each other and catching up with some amazing refreshments and spectacular music,” she nodded at the servers standing together and the quartet that was already packing up their instruments.

“I’m afraid, though, that in the interest of safety, it is time for everyone to go home. There’s no rush but I wouldn’t want anyone to get stuck here should something happen in the few minutes.” There was a polite scattering of laughter and the chattering picked up again. This time, the entire room had a lighter feel to it as the guests each began to shuffle their way towards the front doors.

Breanna turned to face Lois and Clark, sighing.

“Anyone out in the gardens will be found by security in the next few minutes and sent on their way as well. Can Lois and I walk you out, Clark?”

The man exchanged a quick look with his colleague before nodding.

“Of course, thank you again for inviting me.”

As they walked out, Breanna smiled up at him. The height difference wasn’t severe enough that she was craning her neck, but it was obvious enough that she was grateful for her heels.

“No, thank you for coming! I’ve heard so much about you and read enough of your articles that I knew that I had to meet you.”

Clark smiled, that light blush covering his face again.

They stood outside, on the brick roundabout that circles the foundation 30 yards away from the front door. Lois gave her coworker a quick hug and Breanna shook his hand and they said their goodbyes. He walked off towards the valets with a wave and the two women turned to go back inside. They had their arms looped together and were silent as they watched the rest of the guests file out.

As soon as the cleaning was started by Ms. Iverson’s people Breanna was heading towards her study. Lois followed her, not quite sure what she was supposed to do. As she followed her younger friend into the room, Breanna locked the door behind them. Alfred was already standing there, waiting by the tall grandfather clock. He nodded at them and reached up to rotate the hands into a specific arrangement—12:17—and pushed the center, and with a low rumbling the clock swung out, revealing an elevator. Lois knew her mouth was hanging open but she couldn’t help it.

Breanna smirked and put her hand on a scanner. When it flashed green the door to the elevator opened with a quiet hiss and she stepped inside. She gestured for her friend to follow, and Lois eagerly stepped inside.

“I will take care of Ms. Iverson and her people, Miss Wayne. Expect me on the comms as soon as I am done.”

Bre nodded and pushed the down button. The door closed and they began to go down. It was when they stopped that Breanna spoke again.

“Welcome to the Cave, Lois.”

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