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evielmostdefinitely · 6 months

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Pls do something with peacekeeper!Coriolanus I have yet to see anyone do that trope + I feel like he’s more mean and protective in that era

mastermind |peacekeeper!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader|

prompt: based off above prompt, but wanted to tweak it a teeny tiny bit so this is how coriolanus meets capitol!reader. the plot of the original film is altered a little to fit this.

contains: tw- violence, guns, shooting. dark, protective, manipulative coriolanus. not super heavy, but there are some kinda darkish themes so read at your own discretion.

“Snow,” Commander Hoff’s gruff voice rang through the doorway, hitting Coriolanous head on, his heart lurching with fear. They found out about Lucy Gray, that she’d escaped after Mayfair and Billy’s death. Or maybe worse, maybe she hadn’t headed north, maybe she’d told them.

His mind raced as he took a step forward, helmet in hand respectfully, hoping Hoff wouldn’t see the way his hands trembled. “Commander, Sir.” Snow held his head high. If this was to be the end, he wouldn’t go out crying. Not like Sejanus- no, Corio would have pride.

Hoff set the papers down on his desk with a huff, head jerking back for Coriolanus to come towards him. “Snow, I need you to escort Miss Duke to the Mayor’s office.” He nodded towards the corner. “I guess with the recent tragedy of his daughter, Mayor Mayfield’s mind has been elsewhere. He didn’t get his quarterly tesserae count turned in. The Capitol sent Miss Duke to get them, so make sure she gets there.”

Coriolanus’ eyes wandered to you, standing in the corner properly, hands clasped elegantly in front of you. A shining beacon in the dark skies of the coal country, a glimmering ray of good after all the bad Corio had. He could tell you were from The Capitol, though you tried to dress more humbly for the visit to the district, he supposed.

You gave him a smile, and for a moment, Corio’s heart leapt with excitement. That familiar rush of heat returning, coursing through his chest. “Private Snow will take you there, Miss Duke. He’s one of our best. On his way to officer training in Two. You’re in good hands.” Commander Hoff nodded.

You thanked him quietly, kitten heels clicking across the hardwood floors. Coriolanus followed you, trying to keep his stoic expression, though his eyes wandered to the swell of your ass, hugged perfectly in your dress.

“Snow,” Commander Hoff called before he left. “A word?”

The icy chill of fear flooded back into Corio’s system, gripping the knob. You didn’t seem to notice, nodding politely, shutting the door behind you.

“Sir?” Coriolanus swallowed the lump in his throat, approaching the desk slowly.

Hoff leaned back in his chair. “You know who that is, right?”

Coriolanus blinked. His mind had been so occupied with his impending doom, his fate had seemed to turn and tread on the worst sides of things, he was so sure it would continue. “Miss Duke?”

Hoff blinked at him, laughing softly. “Yeah, Duke, Snow.” He pressed. Coriolanus felt dumb, small like he did when he talked to Highbottom. “Snow, does the name Atticus Duke mean anything to you?”

Coriolanus' eyes widened lightly, turning towards the door in surprise. “Atticus Duke? The-”

“-The man who owns half of Panem?” Hoff snorted lightly. “Yeah, that’s his youngest out there. Only girl, alright?”

Coriolanus felt his curiosity peek. He’d been wallowing in the loss of Lucy Gray, he didn’t even put it together. Thinking you were just another Capitol girl. Not the Duke Heiress.

“Yes, sir. I-I see that now.” Corio nodded dumbly.

“Good. So you know that her father paid for the destruction of the rebellion? That he funded the Capitol? And that if these people see her, those fucking Rebels are likely to want to hurt her?” Hoff pressed, his eyes narrowed in seriousness. “And that if something happens to her, our entire platoon will be hanging from that tree- or worse?”

It shouldn’t have made Coriolanus as excited as he was. The thought of having that much power. He could easily have that level of control, have people quaking with fear- even the powerful ones, trembling at his feet the way Atticus Duke did. Oh, how he envied it. How he craved it.

“Yes, sir.” Coriolanus nodded.

“Snow, listen to me.” Hoff sat up straight, leaning over the desk. “If any of them get close to her, no mercy- do you understand?”

Coriolanus nodded again, spine straightening with authority. “I have others trailing and leading the both of you- crowd control, but I wanted her to feel safe. Feel welcome. So I stuck her with you. Figured a familiar face from the Capitol would put her at some ease. Keep her from telling her father something that would have him questioning my rank and order around here.”

“I understand, Commander.” Coriolanus said firmly. “I’ll keep her safe.”

“Wow,” You muttered, looking around the cobbled street. The Peacekeepers ahead of you barking orders, scaring off any pedestrians wandering about. “Is it always like this?”

Corio blinked, his gun cradled in his hand, finger on the trigger- ready. “Always like what?”

“This,” You waved around you. “It’s very…”

“Depressing?” Corio muttered, a grumble, eyes scanning the perimeter in front of him over the gray skies and smog filled air.

“Yeah.” You smiled softly. “I pictured it… prettier?”

“It’s the coal district, Miss Duke.” Coriolanus said, the barrel of his gun pointed for backup at a scurrying coal miner.

“So that’s what makes it so sad?” You challenged, brow raised.

Corio didn’t answer. He knew what you were implying, and he wouldn’t humor it. Instead, his eyes scanned the street. “May I ask why you’re here?” You asked, tilting your head to the side.

“What?” Corio snapped, harsher than he meant to.

“Why you’re here?” You repeated. “I, uh, I don’t want to sound rude. I just- I saw you on the games. You were the mentor who won. I just, I figured you would be at University with the others.”

“I made an enemy. A powerful one.” Corio quipped shortly, jaw set. He couldn’t let his mind race and spiral, not now. He needed to stay focused.

“Oh,” You muttered, looking down at the wet, broken road. “I’m sorry.”

Corio’s heart skipped, maybe with joy, maybe with fear. “May I ask you why you’re here?” Coriolanus asked, eyes cutting down towards you.

“I have to get the count for the tesserae.” You motioned towards the Mayor’s office before you. “I have to take them back to The Capitol.”

“Yes, but,” Corio paused, scanning the area. “You’re- Surely, you don’t need to do that, Miss Duke.” He muttered, voice dropping to a low octave.

You blushed, sheepishly looking towards your shoes, ruined from the muck in the road. “So, Commander Hoff briefed you on me?” You grinned.

Coriolanus didn’t answer. “I already knew.” He lied easily, eyes cutting to you. “We’ve met before. In passing. I was Sejanus’ friend.”

“Oh,” Your face fell. “Right. I-I am so sorry for your loss. It was-”

“-Yes.” Corio nodded, the bile rising in his throat. “We-We met at the Academy’s Ball two springs ago.”

You turned, looking at him fully for the first time. He tried not to blush, icy eyes meeting your own for a moment. “That’s right.” You grinned. “You-You had longer hair. Tigris’ cousin?”

“Yes.” Coriolanus nodded.

“She was apprenticing for my aunt.” You smiled softly.

Corio looked at you, his rigid posture slacking just for a moment, relaxing in your presence. “Why aren’t you doing something like that?” He asked, brows furrowing for a moment. “Or in University, yourself. Surely that would be… more appropriate than this.”

You bit back a smile, chin ducking down. “Maybe.” You shrugged. “I like this job, though. I get to see the Districts.”

“Why would you ever want to do that?” Corio snarled lightly. “I can’t wait to get out of them. Get away from these people.” He muttered bitterly.

You blinked at him, eyes narrowing lightly, stopping before the steps of the Mayor’s building. “You seemed quite fond of that song bird you helped win.” You countered. “And she was among these people.”

Coriolanus was stunned, mouth opening stupidly, before swallowing his jumbled words. Instead, he offered you his arm politely for you to steady yourself on while you climbed the steps to the Mayor’s office.

Coriolanus waited outside the office at attention while you collected the tesseraes for the quarter from a distraught, and clearly drunken, Mayor Mayfield. His slurred speech, pores sweating out whiskey soaked odor.

You took the envelope, thanking him before quickly slipping out. Coriolanus stood beside you, falling back into step with you, the other Peacekeepers joining around the two of you.

“You’re returning to The Capitol today?” Corio asked, though his eyes stayed straight ahead.

“They asked me to stay the night.” You answered simply. “Something about a train leaving in the morning?” You looked at him carefully. You knew he was to join you with the others. You’d given the orders from Dr. Gaul to Commander Hoff that morning.

Coriolanus frowned, turning to you curiously. “Tomorrow? Why would they make you-”

The ravenous bark of Peacekeepers in front of you made you jump, a deranged looking man, covered in soot from the mines, charging at you with a vengeful pace. You froze, clutching the envelope in front of you like a shield, glued to the concrete in pure fear.

“Gimme that envelope, you stupid bitch!” The man roared, mere feet away from you. “Get my daughter’s name outta there! Take it out!”

You flinched, bracing for the impact of him hitting you, his body hurling towards yours. It never came. Instead, a shot behind you had a gasp tearing from your lungs. The bullet so close to your own head, you heard it whizzing past you like the June Bugs that flew in the fields in the countryside of the district.

The man grunted, a bloody gurgle, a crimson patch seeping through his stomach. The other Peacekeepers seized him, shouting and grabbing at him, hauling him away roughly. Your hand trembled, pressing to your lips. Coriolanus stood behind you, gun lowering, finger still on the trigger.

His face was hard, stoic, eyes narrowed dangerously- furiously. “Come on.” Coriolanus muttered, a hand gently on your back, guiding you forwards. The crowds were peering, poking around at the sound of gunshots, the groans and screams of the man. “We need to get you to the Commander’s Quarters.”

“Snow, hey, look we-we didn’t see him-” One Peacekeeper jogged frantically, hands trembling in fear. “He just- He came out of nowhere. I’m so sorry, Miss.”

“It’s alrig-”

“-Come on.” Coriolanus hissed, cutting your apology off short. “We need to get her back quickly. Can you manage that?” He snapped at the other boy.

The other boy faltered for a moment, scrambling back into line. You were still shaking, pushed into Corio’s side far closer than what would be appropriate for two strangers. “He-He was just saying sorry.” You muttered, your own eyes scanning around you.

“He nearly got you killed.” Coriolanus snapped, his eyes hard but they never met your gaze, scanning around you protectively. “His carelessness nearly cost you your life.” Cost us all our lives, Corio thought.

You didn’t respond, only stepping with his quickened pace.

“Are you alright?” You asked Coriolanus, peeking around the corner of the train station towards him.

He was surprised to see you, though he supposed he shouldn’t have been. He assumed the ‘Princess of Panem’ would have her own private carriage on the train, not subjected to riding with him.

“I think I’m supposed to ask you that.” Corio gave a half smile, a tone much lighter than it was before.

You blushed, looking down. “I’m alright.” You sighed lightly. “I told your Commander that. I promise I don’t need an escort back to The Capitol.”

Coriolanus looked down at his bags. “I’m not- I’m returning to The Capitol as well.” He said, chest boasting at the words.

“Oh?” You lifted a brow. “No District Two?”

“No,” Corio shook his head. “I’ve been asked to return.” It was vague, and he knew it- knew it piqued your interest.

“Well, congratulations. I’m sure your family will be excited.” You smiled politely, lifting your own overnight bag when the train doors opened.

“Here,” Coriolanus stopped you, reaching for the strap of the bags. Your hands brushed in the smallest way. Overlapping as he took the bag politely, a surge of electricity jolted between both of you, rapid sparks that would crescendo in the days, weeks, years to come.

You blushed, turning your head to hide the way it flustered you. It was so embarrassingly juvenile, his eyes sparkling, lips tugging in a grin when he looked at you, pinky grazing over your knuckle just for a moment before he held the bag.

“Allow me.” Coriolanus was smug, proud, pulling the bag up. He let you on first, placing the bags away, eyes cutting towards you. You were stealing a glance at him, turning after being caught sheepishly.

You had the window seat, looking out at the smoggy station. “Is this seat taken?” Corio asked, hand resting on the arm of the seat next to you.

You shook your head, moving your hands to your lap. You were so poised, Corio knew it had been drilled into your head since you were young, just as it was to him. His mind raced with excitement, the idea of getting you to be so improper, defile you.

“Do you know your orders once you return?” You asked, looking at him carefully. The trains whistle trilling in the background.

“I’m not sure.” It was a complete lie, he only knew a fraction of what awaited him when he returned. All the more reason he needed an ally, a powerful one at that.

“Why?” Corio pressed, leaning forward to look at you. His dog tags hung loosely around his neck, draping over his underclothes of his uniform. It made your heart race.

“I was just curious.” You shrugged, swallowing gently.

“You were wanting to see me again?” Corio pressed, boldly. His heart skipped when you whipped around, staring at him with a wide eyed expression.

“W-What?” You choked out, trying to remain calm, composed, but your heart was beating so fastly you were sure it would burst.

“Were you wanting to see me again?” Coriolanus hummed, shifting in his seat to turn towards you. You were pressed against the glass, pinned by his gaze. “Because I was hoping to see you again. If you’d have me.”

“You would?” You squeaked, sure that your fluster was apparent all over your face.

“If you’d let me.” Corio purred smoothly. “I’d like to take you out sometime. Get to know you better. I’m very,” His fingers brushed over your own hand, satisfied at how you shuddered. “Interested in getting to know you.”

You swallowed. No man had ever been so direct with you. He’d saved you the night before, so effortlessly. The feeling of his bicep around you, shielding you away, strong and steady. It had you sneaking your fingers between your thighs later that night shamefully at the thought.

“I-I would like that.” You nodded, mind screaming when his hand held your, cradled with such care, you almost forgot how brutal he was yesterday.

“Tomorrow?” Coriolanus asked, head tilting to the side. He wanted to set the date before you forgot, before you had time to ask around about him or think too much about his actions before.

“That-That would be lovely.” You nodded, tongue swelling thickly in your mouth, heart hammering as he pushed closer and closer.

His hand cradled your jaw softly, thumb stroking over your cheek bone. “May I?” Corio hummed, eyes lustful.

You nodded. You weren’t quite sure why, you’d certainly never done something like this before. But then his lips were on you, hand cradling your jaw, moving to the back of your head gently. He migrated into your chair, somewhere between the Districts, hands on your back, pulling you in closer and closer. He kissed you like a man starved, possessively and passionately all at once- it made your head spin.

It dawned on Coriolanus, what Dr. Gaul was talking about. Sacrifice, while brutal, was necessary. Losing Lucy Gray, Sejanus, without that would it have ever brought you to him? He would be in the woods, starving with a girl who nearly used him to survive, or hanging from a tree next to Sejanus. Certainly not sitting side by side in the train car, stealing small smiles and gentle kisses with you. His fate had turned, re-routed and he could see it now- his future, his empire with you.

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stargirlfics · 6 months

Text

The Gentleman Chapter Six: Tremble

Alfred Pennyworth x Black Dancer!Reader

Summary: Scarecrow threatens to bring Gotham to its knees while you and those you love find yourself caught in the middle

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, canon typical violence, mentions of chemical weapons, anxiety and hallucinations, mild angst and hurt/comfort, competency kink, alfred being a soft dom, smut: soft spanking tw, body worship, oral (reader receiving)

Word Count: 12.0k

This chapter is finally here and I actually cannot believe the journey it has been from when I started working on this, having months of difficulty writing and then I just write this massive chapter! I’m really happy to be sharing it and I hope it’s well worth the wait. I really appreciate and cherish all your comments and love and patience especially on this series, it means so much 🤎

[series masterlist] [series playlist]

At the mercy of impending catastrophe, an entire city was holding its breath in sick anticipation.

News of Scarecrow and his fear toxin was everywhere one went, anxiety climbing with every hushed discussion and passing day without answers.

His motives were still unclear and everyone was trying to decipher the severity of the message he had left: This is Gotham’s only warning. Fear the Scarecrow.

What was to come next? And would you be ready?

Trust in Gotham’s institutions was few and far between for most, though you did feel a little more hopeful with Mayor Bella Reál’s steady presence in public lately—even still, people were bracing themselves.

For you that meant dance rehearsals were still being held so stage time was abundant, the exotic performances and the allure of the Iceberg Lounge were quickly becoming a good means of escape for many in the city.

You wanted to dazzle the audience, satisfied when you could suspend their belief that this was just a dance and convince them nymphs and sirens were real and alive in front of them instead.

It was easy to throw yourself into the work if you thought about it; counting steps and turns while the band played their hearts out.

There was no other competition, the shimmer and sparkle of the costumes, the lingerie underneath even more dazzling, opal pearls and diamonds adorning your lush bodies caught every single eye.

Five, six, seven…a spotlight shines down upon you, such a pretty beacon of desire, of the passion flowering so strongly in your own heart until there’s nothing but you and the music.

You left nothing on that stage at the end of the night.

Especially not when Alfred was in the crowd watching you with an ever growing adoration.

He made the effort to catch a show when he could, waiting with roses for you afterwards and no compliment or praise spared from your ears if he could help it.

It was amazing how much things could shift, how nervous you had been the first time you knew he would be watching and now you welcomed it, relished in his promise to show up for you simply because he thought your talent and love for your artform was worth it, that you were worth it.

And of course how could you forget his handwritten letter with such neat and elegantly written words, the very letter that sat on your nightstand since your date in the bookstore when he presented it to you and made it all official.

You read over it in the late night hours and in the morning when you woke up wishing he was next to you, until you could recite every word he had written by heart. Weeks ago you would have felt anxious about entering a relationship, not wanting to go through heartbreak if your feelings weren’t the same but now you understood Alfred would never let you stand on unsteady ground.

He hadn’t since the first moment your paths collided, the memory of it still so vivid you could practically hear the echo of your pounding footsteps on the concrete hurrying to reach him, taking a chance on a stranger and embracing him out of fear only to come away from it with your pulse racing for an entirely different reason instead.

Something solid and gentle had formed here and you wanted to be cocooned inside of it forever.

Your friends definitely didn’t hide their excitement that you were “basically dating a member of the Wayne family!” as Roxie had put it.

She was the first to tell you she wouldn’t mind at all if you slipped Bruce her number. Bambi was already ride or die for the relationship, as was Amber and then Kiera’s encouragement of all things romance on top of it all certainly made this a fanclub if you’d ever seen one.

Truthfully though their reassurances kept you from letting the tendency to overthink get in the way, making sure you knew that the way Alfred treated you was everything you deserved.

Grateful felt like too simple a word but it’s perhaps the best word to summarize the way you felt about each of them. Elated in how they celebrated this with you, a sing-song chorus of excitement when you told them about his letter in the chat or how everything went after he spent the night at your place for the first time.

It kept you hopeful, appreciating everything you had just a little extra.

Fresh snow dusted the windowsills of The Magpie where you were counting down the time until you’d have your evening free to spend with Alfred.

You would see him in just a few short minutes anyways, with Bruce in tow for a meeting with the mayor and her team but knowing you’d still have some time before you truly got him to yourself left you feeling a little antsy.

The bar had already been wiped down twice and you just checked on the handful of people sitting around for brunch, most of them talking and finishing off their drinks for the time being.

So you settled on people-watching, polishing the crystal whiskey glasses while you did, arranging them in a stacked pyramid and you were almost done with the menial task when Bruce Wayne sidled up to the bar.

“Oh, hey! Can I get you anything, Mr. Wayne?” you greeted him with a smile, doing your best not to make it obvious you were also looking to see if Alfred was nearby.

“Please just call me Bruce, you don’t have to keep it so formal, really I insist. And just coffee if you can.”

“Sorry, habit. I can get you some coffee, any sugar or cream?” you were laughing to yourself a little, forgetting that you didn’t have to address him so properly every time.

You still did that with Alfred sometimes, a ‘Mr. Pennyworth’ at the tip of your tongue on occasion which always came with a playful scolding.

“No thanks, I’ll take it as is,” Bruce corrected, thanking you again when you set the steaming mug down in front of him. “Oh, before I forget. He may have told you this already but when time allows it Alfred likes to try and get Dory and I together for a proper Sunday dinner and if you’re able to this coming weekend, I wanted to try and surprise him.”

Oh, how thoughtful! Quickly realizing he was inviting you to join them in this tradition of theirs made your heart swell and you hastened to accept.

“That sounds so nice! Of course I can be there. Should I bring anything, dessert maybe?”

“Yes, that would be perfect actually. It’ll be nice to have you there..uh, I know we haven’t had much time to speak but thank you, it’s good to see him happy lately and that’s because of you.”

Bruce’s usual shy, reserved tone was more open, a little softer and you felt relief knowing that you had his approval in a way, maybe not wanting to admit to yourself that it had been a quiet worry all this time.

His and Alfred’s relationship was on better working ground now and you didn’t want to complicate that or make it any more difficult for them to connect in the way they needed and it was very clear from the start that they did need each other and cared for one another fiercely.

This was good, really good.

“I’m glad and that’s okay by the way there’s been a lot going on you’re probably just as busy as he is, if not more, I figured we’d get to talk at some point. I really do just want to make him happy and I hope you know he is because of you too, he’s so proud of you.”

Your last few words saw the very rare edge of a smile before he took a sip from the mug, face turning stoic again.

Speaking of Alfred, he walked in the very next moment, as effortlessly handsome as usual. His suit was a crisp charcoal gray, a black tie tucked perfectly into that pristine waistcoat you knew felt smooth under your hands, the familiar gold accents of his wristwatch and cane pulling it all together.

He always looked incredible but god did he have you weak from halfway across the room today, those kind, blue eyes finding you with ease.

Waving him over to the bar, you started making his usual cup of Earl Grey, sharing a sheepish smile when you greeted each other.

“Good to see you, darling. I hope you’ve had an easy morning.” The depth and lull of his voice and that accent sent warmth spreading across your cheeks, distracted from hearing the affection in his tone.

“I have, thank you,” setting his cup of tea down on the bar counter, you leave the milk out for him to pour how he likes, “Hope the meeting goes well, you’re gonna kill it!”

“That’s very nice of you. I imagine it will, what we’re proposing will benefit the city and they seem receptive to Bruce’s ideas, which is all we can ask for.”

Beaming at him you nodded encouragingly, giving yourself a few more moments to talk with the two men before the mayor arrived and they were whisked off to a more private table.

Kiera came in not long after that, you were really just working the morning to fill in for her until she could get here but your plans to leave with Alfred right after his meeting lined up with the timing anyways.

An hour passed ever so slowly, the meeting finally finishing with what looked like good spirits from everyone and before long you were saying your goodbye’s to Bruce since he had to head out while Alfred lagged behind to take a phone call from his office.

Bundled up in your coat, you waited by the hostess stand content to watch the snow flurries begin to fall outside, such a stark contrast to the warm, crimson interior.

Not sure how long you were lost admiring the view, a warm hand slides across your lower back drawing your attention in a gentle caress you’re sure you’d know anywhere.

“Ready to leave?” Alfred held his hand out for you and kissed your knuckles when you fit your palm against his.

The eager nod of your head and the accompanying excited giggle gave you away but you didn’t care to hide how much you’d been looking forward to this evening with him.

“Ready.”

Outside the air was chilly, coats zipped up a little higher while you discussed what the plans were for the rest of the day.

It was still fairly quiet out on the streets, the business sector in this part of the city always a bit more empty than the bustling traffic of downtown that you were used to, at least before dinner rush anyway.

Nothing out of the ordinary piqued your attention until Alfred was pausing mid-sentence, asking if you heard what he had heard.

“No, what-” but no sooner than you had opened your mouth, the faintest recognition of what sounded like a scream could be heard. You flicked your eyes up to him in concern.

Had it really been a scream? Or was the frigid wind playing tricks on you, whistling through the air?

The same sound rang out again somewhere in the distance, only this time you both were able to hear a distinct shout of “HELP!” following it.

The mood had suddenly turned urgent but it was as if you could only move in slow motion until you realized that at this very moment, the other shoe had indeed dropped.

Chaos was the only way to describe it, more shouts piercing the air but nothing prepared you for the wave of people running out into the street in every direction.

You can’t be sure exactly what’s going on or what everyone was running from but the gears were already spinning in your mind and you don’t hesitate to move when Alfred hurriedly nudged you to follow him, clutching onto his jacket as he guided you to cross the street where his car was parked around the corner.

But you wouldn’t make it more than a few steps off the curb.

The flow of the crowd was too dense, too panicked and you were jostled as you tried to keep your feet steady on slick, snowy pavement.

A gasp was knocked loose from your throat when someone shoved past you, upsetting your balance in the process, the impact forcing you to let go of Alfred’s hand.

Fingers flailed but it was no use, you couldn’t move fast enough and soon more people pushed themselves between you on all sides which meant he couldn’t reach you either. You were quickly losing sight of him, legs feeling like lead as you tried to follow the sound of his voice shouting your name but there’s too much noise to filter out.

No, no! Where is he? I can’t see him anymore.

Your heart sank realizing you’d lost him in the crowd, even as frantically as you were searching for him there were so many people dashing past as you also tried to keep moving that you knew it would be impossible to find him like this.

You were separated and on your own.

Now it felt like your sense of direction was off, not sure if you were still headed in the right direction towards his car anymore, the whole world feeling like it was swallowing you up.

Deep breaths, just take a deep breath. Keep moving.

You had to repeat it to yourself in order to stay calm, trying to reassure yourself that somehow you could make it out of whatever this was but a pang of worry for Alfred made you feel nauseous.

Unwelcome thoughts of something happening to him threatened to take root amidst your struggle to think. Hands moving on their own volition, you reached into your bag to fumble for your phone; maybe you could could get a hold of him by calling, sending a text, could find where he was and try and make your way to him in the event you ended up making it to the car and he wasn’t there.

Seconds later, up ahead of you, a truck swerved to avoid a group of people rushing into the intersection which sent everyone scrambling to move aside, inadvertently knocking you off balance again.

Stinging pain prickled in the meat of your shins, rattling all the way up to your temple when you collided with the cold concrete, eyes going wide knowing it wasn’t safe to be on the ground like this.

But it didn’t matter because had you not been knocked to the ground you weren’t sure you would have noticed it: the shiny silver canister nestled in a pile of snow not six feet away.

Something didn’t feel right about this. It felt like you were being herded to this point.

Under the noise of so many footsteps and all the commotion you heard it click, a slow whistling hiss coming after. The sound grew louder but you were already scrambling backwards trying to put distance between you and the cloudy plume of gas extinguishing from the cylinder.

This had to be the fear toxin, this had to be him.

Fresh screams dotted the blood rushing to your brain through your ears, dread forming a hard lump in your throat as you watched the gas diffuse again and mix with the falling snow.

Loosening your scarf you folded it over your nose and mouth hoping it would buy you some time if you weren’t breathing as much of it in, you couldn’t be sure you hadn’t already.

Your heart was hammering in your ribs when you finally found your footing and could stand, ignoring the strain in your muscles or how your skin felt raw from where your tights had snagged and torn from crawling on the pavement.

Now that you were on your feet again your surroundings were more familiar.

It’s how you spotted the mouth of an alleyway to your right, knowing exactly where it would lead, recognizing the rust red fire escape peeking out from the side of the building. You hadn’t realized you traveled back this far but you’d take it, at least you’d be off the street this way.

The disadvantage of this was that you were working against the flow of bodies but you tried to keep your stance wide and square out your shoulders so you couldn’t be pushed quite as easily, and there was something else…a noticeable difference in how people were acting.

It wasn’t just panic in their eyes, pupils glazed over and blown wide, this was an erratic look of fright. This toxin was confirmed to cause hallucinations which could only mean there had to be dozen’s on this street alone who’d come in contact with it.

You could only imagine what awful things they were seeing, your voice ricocheting against the clamor of sounds trying to warn whoever you could.

Just then, the quickest flash of gold appears in your peripheral and you hear your name again turning in time to see him, Alfred, shouldering his way through the crowd.

You stared in awe, questioning for a split second if you were starting to see things too but he was really there fighting and pushing his way through the packed street to get to you.

The small relief when he reached you, both of his arms locking around you this time before ushering you the rest of the way. Slipping into the alleyway was easy after that.

“Are you hurt? Darling, look at me please! Are you hurt?” His voice is chalked with concern, a clipped edge to his tone that echoed against the brick wall you had slumped against to catch your breath.

He’s already looking you up and down in careful assessment.

“I’m fine! I’m okay..I think, but wait, Alfred! This was intentional, the gas it-” the words come tumbling out but you fall short at the nod he gave you. Of course he had pieced it together. You’re gulping before noticing his cane is missing. “What about you? I was so worried when we-” the words died in your throat for a second time remembering how you got separated in the crowd.

You didn’t trust yourself not to cry.

“Me too, sweet girl but I am alright. I was far more worried about you.” and it’s the tenderness in his voice that makes you sniffle.

Screaming cuts through the brief moment of rest and you both agree you need to get out of here, deciding to stay off the main streets. If you could cut through a few alleyways you’d be able to get to his car.

His hand is once again steady in yours, thumb passing over your skin trying to soothe you while your own fingers return pressure here and there, beyond relieved to be next to him again even with a million more worries arising.

The damage had already been done though, time beginning to move slowly, buildings looming high above feeling suffocating, as if maybe you’d never find your way out, every muffled cry or scream from the streets a terrible chorus.

A loud squeal and the creaking of metal a few feet ahead halted your steps again, Alfred’s arm thrown back to push you behind him.

Four men filed out of a side door, the hoods of their jackets pulled up so they were shrouded in shadows, both of you just barely avoiding being seen.

Alfred had hastened to backtrack and slip behind an empty delivery truck in the alley that provided some cover without close inspection but was still too close for any sort of comfort.

Everything in you went quiet and still, clammy fingers gripping Alfred’s bicep a little tighter, grateful you were wedged between the side of the truck and his body. You don’t want to look their way again but your anxiety rises at the thought of not knowing how far away they were so you risk a peek over his shoulder.

Your blood goes cold almost instantly, breath sucked from your lungs when a fifth man stepped forth.

Dead eyes pierced through a ripped burlap hood covering the man’s head, its crooked stitching reminding you of an old scarecrow only the rest of him was clad in a suit. All you felt was dread.

“Keep your eyes peeled.” a distorted command came from behind the decrepit hood.

There was something terrifying about the way this man moved, it was creepy and sinister, your suspicions confirmed when you spotted more of those silver canisters peeking out from his suit jacket just before he was slinking away, moving out onto the street ahead flanked by those four men, each with a weapon in hand.

Tentative relief came seeing the distance increase between your position and theirs but you weren’t out of the woods yet by any means with one more street to go.

Counting shallow breaths one by one, you waited until the crunch of their footsteps on the snow faded enough to move ahead safely.

Alfred squeezed your fingers to get your attention, motioning for you to follow him from out behind the truck carefully. It was best not to stay idle here too long.

In the midst of trying to process what just occurred you didn’t notice Alfred pull out a small blade until you saw it clenched in his left hand, noting the way he kept it tucked in towards his palm so that outwardly no one could see it was there.

His other hand gripped your arm, keeping you from being able to move from behind his back as you crept forward together, a defensiveness in his movements that made it seem like this was just muscle memory for him.

Here he was, protecting you, keeping you calm this whole time and though it wasn’t surprising anymore you were still a little struck by just how much he cared for you, your wellbeing. It bled through into every part of him and that had your heart clenching.

When you finally made it out of the alley fresh worry spiked like ice inside your chest, attention drawn to every direction trying to make sure nothing would catch either of you off guard now that you were no longer under the cover of the city’s alleyways but at last, after what felt like an eternity, you had arrived.

Unlocking the car and seeing to it that you were safely tucked inside, Alfred was skillfully weaving the sleek vehicle through the streets in no time.

—

Everything felt like it was turned upside down.

Sirens and police cars whizzed past, headed in the direction you’d just left behind and you could only watch as the weather turned dreary.

Alfred checked in every so often, comforting you with reassuring glances, a soft squeeze to your knee which you returned with a weak smile. You were sure he had noticed you shivering as well and felt appreciative of the warm air circulating through the vents.

Remembering your phone after a moment you fished it out of your bag, replying to a string of texts from Kiera who was worried sick and thankfully still safe inside where you last saw her.

Scrolling through the rest of your messages and missed phone calls that kept pinging in your notifications you let each of them know you were safe until it hit you that something was missing, a sudden gasp catching Alfred’s attention.

“Do-do you think Bruce is okay? He left a few minutes before us. Maybe he managed to miss all that.”

“I’m sure he made it through, but he’s not been answering his phone. We’ll be at the Tower soon and we can check.”

It sounds hopeful but the crease of worry between his brows makes you wonder.

Trying to cling to the more hopeful outcome, you attempt to keep bad thoughts at bay with the idea that you’d see that swath of dark hair emerging from the staircase as soon as you step into the foyer. He just had to be there.

The rest of the drive was fairly quiet but the noise in your head made up for it.

You couldn’t stop thinking about what you’d seen—Scarecrow. How close you’d gotten to the fear toxin but so luckily managed to avoid it, a sick feeling in your stomach seeing what it did to the people around you.

Whatever his big plans were for the people of Gotham, you were sure they were horrifying.

Anxiety drips from your shoulders when the car finally comes to a stop, limbs heavy again as you soar up to the penthouse floors from the parking garage elevator and it’s only when the low hum of the lift stops that you let go of Alfred’s hand, the doors opening to a suspended silence.

It only took a few minutes and a quick search to see that it was evident Bruce wasn’t here.

Your stomach was twisted into knots again waiting patiently while Alfred tried his cell phone one more time. Each trilling of the dial tone felt longer than the last and your heart sank once it went to voicemail.

“If he has his location on, I’m sure I’ll be able to find him.” He takes a deep breath, pacing the floor trying to think, to come up with answers.

Wringing your hands wasn’t doing much to ease the tension in your body so you forced yourself to lean against the solid wood table of the main room.

Touching something solid seemed to help and you wanted to be helpful to Alfred right now, at the very least supportive in the effort to find Bruce, hoping anxiety wouldn’t take over everything.

Mentally you were running through a list of possible places near the incident that he could be, fingers flying to your phone to search news updates, find out if Bruce’s name had been mentioned anywhere.

“Christ, I’ve found him! His phone is at the GCPD building. He can’t have been there for very long yet.”

“Okay, that’s good. He’s probably okay then if he’s there of all places, right?” your question is tinged with a cautious optimism as is Alfred’s responding agreement but you still feel unsure.

“I’m going to head there regardless, surely he’s fine but I don’t want to take any chances. I wish he would answer his bloody phone, though.”

He sounded like such a dad in that moment you might have laughed if the circumstances were different.

“Maybe he’s there with the mayor too, they walked out together before us, it was probably the first place he would think to go especially if they saw something related to what we saw.” you offer a little reassurance and reach out to squeeze his shoulder.

“Smart girl. I’m sure you are right.” Alfred sighed and closed his eyes for a brief moment.

Fngers pinching the bridge of his nose before he slips his glasses from his breast pocket and puts them on, focused in on what needed to be done once again, typing out a few messages to Bruce in the meantime.

“I can come with you, just in case he’s in trouble or, or.” you don’t want to go any further with possibilities and you aren’t sure how to articulate your uneasiness at him going back out there on his own even if he could handle himself.

It upset you to think you wouldn’t be there, wouldn’t know if something else were to happen.

“Oh my love, I appreciate that. You’ve been so brave through all this and I do want you with me but more importantly I need you safe and staying here will ensure that. I don’t want you in harm's way.” he’s setting down his phone to cup your cheeks, moving in close so his nose brushes yours gently.

You want to protest but understand that he’s right, the lump in your throat returning as you look at him.

He was being strong, for you, keeping it together just to make sure you weren’t any more frightened than you needed to be but you could see the stress in his features and knew you needed to be strong for him too.

“I don’t like it but I understand,” you relented with a whisper, leaning into him a little more, unconsciously trying to hold on. “I’ll stay here but just please be careful okay?”

Alfred moved back a bit so you’d look him in the eyes, a determination in them that takes away some unsettled nerves.

“I promise I will be. I’ll keep in touch as well, as soon as I find out anything you’ll get a call.” His soft murmur came in between the gentle press of his lips against your forehead.

His kisses were effective in calming you even if it didn’t help the reluctance to part from him, you know he has to go and don’t want to delay him any longer.

A new wave of emotion crests at the way he fusses over you before departing; making sure you were okay to be here alone for a bit, reminding you to eat something soon and that there was a change of clothes still in his room if you wanted to shower and take off your torn tights and snow dampened sweater.

The anxious shake of your hands was better even as you kissed him goodbye, returning his thoughtfulness by making sure he had a pair of gloves and another cane from his collection in hand before hurrying off, your feet lingering for a moment longer after the elevator doors close behind him.

Now…the waiting began.

—

Barely twenty minutes have gone by but you’re restless and there’s a sharp tension in your shoulders all the way down to your hamstrings that won’t ease up even when you try to relax.

Wayne Tower was quiet and far too empty, the methodic tick of the old grandfather clock in the foyer and your footsteps all the sound she’d bestow.

Sitting still has proved to be impossible so you wander the halls, count the steps each staircase you go up, try to roll out the stiffness in your neck little by little.

It’s only afternoon but the skies are gray and dark, some heavy kind of shadow cast over every corner that could be touched and there wasn’t a single thing you could do about it but have patience.

News updates are slow meaning no one knows anything concrete yet, just that nearby hospitals were starting to get an influx of people affected by the fear toxin and police were all over the scene of the incident and surrounding areas. You’re just glad it seemed to be isolated to the few blocks you had navigated around earlier, nothing else occurring elsewhere in the city.

That certainly didn’t mean these incidents weren’t going to spread, you were fully prepared to hear of more fear toxin attacks in the near future with so much mystery still surrounding Scarecrow.

This whole thing felt deeper than what you could see at the surface but all you could come up with were questions and more questions.

But there’s no use in giving yourself a headache, not now at least, your phone ringing abruptly and Alfred’s name illuminating the screen. You’re answering before the second ring, taking a deep breath the moment he tells you everything is alright.

Bruce was indeed at GCPD headquarters when Alfred got there and the pair were in the process of giving statements about what they saw related to the attack so it was looking like they were going to be there for a while yet.

You don’t get to speak to Alfred for long before you hear him being summoned and you’re wrapping things up, wishing him well before he leaves you with a promise that he’ll update you as things go.

Your body felt much lighter now that you knew they were safe, the tightness in your chest dissipating as you finally allowed yourself to unwind a little.

Stomach still too tense to try and eat anything yet, you opt to take a shower instead, the change of clothes and the hot steam of the water would do you good.

Finding the familiar path to Alfred’s bedroom was easy, his space inviting, kept as tidy as ever but you still see all of him in it.

The faded bookmark sticking out of the novel on his bedside table, his nighttime reading glasses that lay folded on a stack of books to the left, and the tie and cufflinks atop his dresser still there from when he was getting ready this morning you imagined.

You’re comforted knowing you’re surrounded by his things and you’re further softened seeing your clothing items amongst his from when you stayed the night for the first time, everything neatly folded in the way you’ve learned he liked to fold.

Thoughts of him lingered as you retreated into the warmth of the shower, adrenaline slowly leached from your body, swirling down the drain with the soapy water.

You didn’t realize how exhausted you were from the last hour and a half until your eyes started to feel heavy but you don’t want to get out just yet.

It feels safe here and you’re already too far gone indulging in daydreams of your boyfriend, the thrill of being able to call him that now—the same one who practically bouldered his way through a crowd of people to reach you.

In the moment there hadn’t been time to really think about it but now that you were alone with your thoughts, it’s all you could replay.

Or maybe it’s all you wanted to think about but either way you wanted to drown in whatever strength and steadfast skill Alfred possessed, heart fluttering thinking of how every movement was intentional, the way his entire body pivoted to shield you, keep you safe as you moved through the streets, the switchblade he so effortlessly and quietly had ready and the expert flourish of his wrist when he pocketed it in the car.

Yes you knew he had been a soldier, had seen combat and was skilled in more areas than you could count, you could only imagine all the technical and psychological training he had from his days as an intelligence agent and though you took those parts of him seriously, you also couldn’t help but find it all deeply attractive.

Where words could not be applied, he showed you.

Refreshed and in more comfortable clothes, your mind felt a little clearer even if having to wait was still difficult but you try and be patient for another update, checking in with your friends in the meantime.

Alfred’s bedroom was warm from the steam still escaping from the connecting bathroom and you felt far too cozy here to venture back downstairs so you climb into the large bed and curl up on his side, comforted by the fact that his pillows smell like him.

No longer restless from the quiet aura in the air, fatigue rolled in, the energy to worry had faded quickly. Instead you began to drift off, the allure of resting pulling you under so easily.

Your phone is still clutched in your hand as you oscillate between worlds, thinking of Alfred and that “oh my love” that had left his lips so tenderly, understanding now why your breath caught in your chest after, why you’d been persuaded to listen.

He refused to let you dismiss your own wellbeing when thinking of others, your importance to him was too great to let you follow him into the unknown even if he’d feel much better having you by his side.

Nothing was going to happen to you if he had anything to do about it.

You hadn’t ever been shown this much adoration before and so fiercely and consistently at that and you slip into a light slumber thinking that this must be what falling in love felt like. To know perhaps, somewhere etched deep within you that it was exactly that. Love.

An unending flame, a sewn red string, so viscerally real it had you swearing to nurture it always. Even in sleep you know you’d never dream of stopping.

—

Winter sun had just begun to set when you were woken up by the sharp buzzing of your phone. A text message.

On the way back now, Bruce is with me. Hope you’re doing alright, I’ll see you soon, lovely x Alfred

Smiling at the good news you rub the grogginess from your eyes and reply back before tucking your face back into the pillow for a few more minutes.

Your nap had lasted an hour or so and afternoon was quickly spilling into evening as you blink the last remnants of sleep away and check the time. Anticipation and the rumbling in your tummy finally get you up.

Taking a few moments to fix where your curls had flattened to your head from laying on your side, you fluffed out the small coils until it looked the way you wanted, padding down the old staircases and into the kitchen soon after.

You wanted to try and make something quick to eat for when they got back, you were sure if you were hungry they must be too especially after everything that had happened, all the extra energy spent.

A quick browse through the fridge and pantry had you grabbing ingredients for sandwiches, absentmindedly putting everything together and you’d just stacked the last one on the plate when you heard the elevator chime and you didn't bother to put anything away, rushing out to the foyer right away.

You don’t care that you’re running, feet carrying you forward with their own motivation, you’ve waited long enough and it’s a complete and total relief when Alfred and Bruce step inside.

Alfred saw you first, a grunt that turns into a chuckle resounding through his chest when you all but crash into him, arms wrapped around his shoulders in a hug that he returns immediately, his own arms sliding across your torso to pull you in close.

Not a second more apart, that is all you wished out of the rest of this day.

“I’m so happy you guys are back. What’s going on out there?” you compose yourself after a moment.

“Half the city is shut down right now, people are scared and staying inside judging by how empty the streets are.” Bruce runs a hand through his hair while he explains.

You almost don’t notice that his fingers are smudged in some sort of dark ink or paint, the color reminding you of motor oil, thoughts racing as to what could have happened, what he might have seen.

“Are you guys doing okay?” you’re asking quietly as you all walk into the main room, hoping you hadn’t pressed too much too soon, just worried by what their faces won’t yield.

Alfred shrugs off his coat and rubs your shoulders to comfort you.

“We’re both alright, darling, don’t worry.” He's reassuring you, steady and measured voice calming you enough to where you begin to let yourself focus on how delighted you are to see them.

Bruce is the first to head to the kitchen when you mention you made sandwiches if anyone was hungry, his thanks echoing down the hall.

You take a moment then to greet Alfred properly, kissing him soundly, spine tingling when he returned the kiss with a sweet pressure that gave away how much he missed you.

“I’m so sorry it’s been hours, their investigation is a big operation and nearly everyone needed to speak to us. Are you doing alright? I’ve been thinking of you all afternoon." He's looking over your frame again, almost like he can’t help but check for himself one more time

“I’m okay, I promise! Actually doing a lot better now that you’re here. It was hard not to be a nervous wreck for a second there but I took a shower and ended up sleeping for an hour and that really helped.” you’re sighing contently against his shoulder.

“That’s my girl. I am so proud of you for how you’ve handled all this today, I really am. That’s great!”

His words were so full of praise and affection it flusters your thoughts and you’re glad he can’t fully see your face lest he notice how much you’re affected, how much that just made you want him, but you reasoned it wasn’t the right time for romantic feelings and desires to take hold yet.

Not when there were still so many questions and things to be talked about, so you stow away those thoughts for the moment, already sure the tension would be palpable when you were able to be alone.

Maybe it would only be a little longer left till then.

Eventually the two of you joined Bruce in the kitchen, everyone feeling a little more settled after eating, able to process and debrief about what madness you’d found yourselves in today.

Surreal didn’t even begin to describe how it felt but it’s all you could manage to say, not quite sure how you were able to make it out of the chaos in the streets unscathed save for a few bruises, it all felt like a bad dream come to life and everyone feared that the worst was still yet to come, that sick feeling in your gut returning with the thought that they were probably right.

Dusky colors peeked over the horizon as the three of you tuned into the five o’clock evening news hour, wary faces glued to the TV as the first solid pictures of Scarecrow flashed across the screen. Your knees bounced nervously where you were sitting on an old loveseat, the reminder of his hooded face making you shiver.

An eerie cell phone video showed him moving down a street with his henchmen, people screaming and writhing on the ground from the toxin.

It seemed like he enjoyed what he had caused, a maniacal glint to his eyes, in the way he moved his face under that hood you swore had to be fused to his skin by the way it looked on him. You had to look away after the third loop of the video, an attempt to keep any nightmares about him later at bay.

Some information was given about the initial incident that sent everyone running; the toxin had been released inside the vents at the City Hall building near The Magpie, gas canisters later found in the ducts like the ones you’d seen in the commotion, lying in the snow so coincidentally.

Having confirmation that it had been planned like you thought only produced more confusion with the sudden wish to have been very wrong about what was going on.

Premeditation like this could only mean this man was cunning and careful, that he’d only been caught on video and surveillance footage because he intended to be seen and that terrified you to realize.

When you dared to peek at the TV again you immediately had to do a double take, up close photos of the men flanking Scarecrow in the video popping up, showing you what the men you saw in the alley really looked like out of the shadows.

You wanted to throw up. You knew for sure that you recognized one of them.

The same man who had been following you when you ran into Alfred that morning you met completely by chance.

It couldn’t be, you didn’t want it to be, as if you could kid yourself into believing you’d forgotten his face no matter how hard you had tried since that day, but it was him and a shudder rolled down your spine at how much of an awful turn this was.

Your small gasp of surprise caught Bruce’s attention and you noticed his careful gaze shift from the screen to your face in a question, figuring out what you’re stuck on trying to explain before you can get any words out.

“You know one of them?” there’s something in Bruce’s tone you can’t discern right away.

“I..yes I recognize him,” your sigh was heavy, followed by the point of your finger when the man’s picture was shown one more time. “Don’t know his name or anything but I do know he works for Oz, I’ve seen him around the Iceberg Lounge pretty recently.”

You took a deep breath before turning your attention to Alfred who was also listening curiously.

“I should also mention that I found out he was the man who was stalking me the morning we met. Oz sometimes uses his men to intimidate the dancers who get out of line with him and I may or may not have injured his pride the night before. I’m sorry I haven’t told you sooner I just didn’t want to upset you with it.”

You cringe inwardly, anxiety rushing in all over again now that you’d said it out loud.

That incident had been something you tried not to give too much thought to, you’d been careful, always were and hadn’t had any more issues with being followed, even got back in Cobblepot’s good graces lately as well but seeing that photo brought it all back.

“Hey, you have nothing to apologize for, darling. That’s quite alright and more than understandable, I think you know either way I’d always be upset knowing he sent that man to stalk you but I would never be angry with you about that.” Alfred spoke gently.

You’re relieved he isn’t mad at you even if the guilt that lingered made you worry.

Maybe you’d make a point to bring it up again when you were alone and able to discuss it in the full context of your relationship, you were sure he wouldn’t mind giving you a little extra reassurance about it.

“Thank you. I don’t know what to make of this but I am a bit shocked Oz would be connected. He’s looking for opportunities to climb up in the crime world, all of us know that and he can be sleazy and he has a reputation for a reason but for him to be part of something like this if he really is involved is extreme.” you chew the inside of your cheek, pondering if your boss had made a deal with the devil in his search for power in Gotham.

Men like him were all smoke and mirrors with a penchant for easily bruised egos but these revelations had you questioning things. It wasn’t a good thing to know too much in this situation and right now, you were making one too many connections for your liking.

You would just have to be more vigilant now, especially around him.

The investigation into today’s fear toxin attack was still ongoing and every news outlet was clamoring for updates and solid information that was nonexistent right now, Bruce finally turning off the TV after a while.

There would be a press conference tomorrow, maybe the city would know more by then but for now it was no use to any of you to rewatch the events you’d already experienced firsthand today.

Bruce announced he was going to shower and call it a night and wished you well if he didn’t see you again, adding that you were welcome to stay any time if you didn’t feel safe going home and he was glad you weren’t hurt after everything.

It brought about a smile to your face again to know he didn’t think any differently of you and made sure you felt welcome.

You were remembering his offer to surprise Alfred with a proper dinner this weekend and though what happened today seemed to put a huge damper on things, you hoped that could still happen.

Closeness and company was what you all needed right now.

After helping Alfred tidy up the kitchen a bit he offers to drive you home and your face must have indicated your disappointment because he was quick to explain he had every intention of spending the rest of the night with you, just thought you’d want to be in your own space after such a taxing day.

He was right, as comfortable as you felt here at Wayne Tower you did miss your apartment and your bed and the familiarity of being in your space but you were also relieved to know that he was still looking forward to making the most out of things this evening.

Of course he’d never leave you wanting or wishing.

Trying to hide your eagerness was a challenge, a new kind of adrenaline in your system as you watched Alfred gather some things to take with him because he said he’d be staying the night too which meant you’d get to have him to yourself after all, putting excitement back in your veins after you’d been quietly hoping to be able to wake up next to him in the morning.

When you finally left the Tower, the streets were just as barren and quiet as Bruce had said, it was eerie not seeing any of the usual traffic.

The only semblance of relief came from seeing that familiar bat signal lit up in the sky, a few hopeful beams cutting through the gloom in the air.

Nothing was going to be the same moving forward and most of the city had been bracing for this since the first threat. It was only a matter of time but tonight, you wanted to forget for a little while and just take all the comfort and quality time with Alfred that you could.

He was as protective as ever walking up to your building and doesn’t fully drop his guard until you’re both inside and the door is locked.

Home at last!

Falling back onto more recent patterns, the space by the door is filled in with Alfred’s shoes, his coat hanging up next to yours, his presence in your apartment making it feel the most complete it’s ever been.

He insisted that you let him make an evening cup of tea for both of you while you sank into the couch cushions, browsing through movies to watch together before you agree on something comedic and lighthearted.

Eventually he joined you and somewhere in between laying your head against his shoulder and the middle of the movie, you finished your mug of chamomile tea and Alfred had pulled you into his lap.

And somewhere between then and the end of the movie you fit yourselves together so you could be cuddled against his side, your leg draped over his to make space.

He’s so solid and warm that you’re helpless to sink into his hold, unable to explain why his arms made you feel so sweetly held, so comforted that the feeling radiated through just the mere mention of his name.

Maybe it’s why the tears eventually came, when you knew you were completely safe and able to feel all your emotions fully after hours of having to push through.

It didn’t take Alfred long to notice your quiet sniffles though, catching the moment some of those tears spill over in silence.

“Ohh sweetheart, it’s alright you’re okay. I’m right here, can you tell me what’s on your mind?” His words are soft and patient and spoken so gently you feel more tears come.

“Today was just a lot…like I keep thinking of when we got separated in the street. I don’t think I’ve ever been as scared as I was at that moment. It’s probably all hitting me now I think,” the waver in your voice could have broken his heart.

“It was a lot and you’ve done such a good job getting through it, you know that was a brilliant idea to use your scarf as a mask? You have no idea how proud I am of you! But you are right, that was terrifying, I was so worried you were hurt or trampled or worse, can’t imagine how caught off guard and disoriented you must have felt and I am so sorry for that, darling.”

Alfred kissed your temple, fingers careful when he began to wipe away the salty streaks left behind on your cheeks and nose.

You wiggle yourself a little closer and nod against his shoulder, “You found me though, you made sure I wouldn’t be hurt even if you did almost give me a heart attack thinking I’d never be able to find you again.”

This time there’s a genuine, shy laugh at the end of your words.

“I’d always find you, you know that right?” his tone shifted to a slight seriousness, still comforting but there’s a weight to his words that steals your breath. “There isn’t a time, a place or a world in which I wouldn’t come find you, wouldn’t do everything in my power to keep you safe, you mean far too much to me.”

You cried a bit more when all of that sentiment sank in because you trusted Alfred so much you knew he spoke truthfully, it wasn’t just to ease your emotions he meant every word and in turn, you’d felt every word.

“I know, I don’t doubt that one bit. I know we talked about this earlier but I do want you to know I didn’t intend to keep that information about Oz sending someone to stalk me a secret from you. I promise I’m going to be a lot more careful around him now too.”

He wiped away the dampness from your lashes before simply shaking his head at you and leaned in to kiss your forehead.

“That would definitely be wise going forward especially since we don’t know how deep his involvement goes but I also don’t want you worrying about how I feel, sweet girl. That was always yours to tell if and when you felt ready and it meant something greater that you trusted me with that knowledge, that I can be a place of confidence for you.”

When would he ever stop rendering you speechless?!

You began to think the answer was never and that was just fine honestly, your heart so taken with his patience and diligence to validate your feelings whenever it was needed, no shame or dismissal involved.

“Sometimes I think I just need a little extra reminding but you’re right I do know I can trust you with anything that’s going on, with anything I’m feeling.”

“Good, that makes me happy. I may have been thinking about putting you over my knee for thinking such silly thoughts that I would be upset, but there’s not a single thing you have to apologize for.”

Oh.

You forgot how to breathe after hearing that, something lighting up inside you imagining yourself over his knee, accompanying thoughts of being toyed with, spanked, squirming and helpless under the grip of those strong hands of his followed swiftly.

He’d figured it out now, reading the change of your expression for what it was, latent desires rising to the surface.

You untangled yourself from his embrace to sit up for a moment, further distracted when he clasped his hands behind his head, shirt pulling taut over his biceps.

“Thanks for reassuring me, if I ask again feel free to do that though, think I might actually get it through my head then,” you teased shyly, “I guess I am being silly, you did after all muscle your way through a wall of people to get to me, which by the way was very impressive.”

He laughed at your compliment, the sound low and gravelly to your ears, pulling you in.

“Mm used to be a boxer, love. I’m flattered you think so.”

Oh wow. Again your interest in his skills had been piqued and he must have seen the flicker of an urge to ask further in your eyes because he continued after a second.

“Well, field medics like to have fun too and it was the army so we were all trained in hand-to-hand combat; boxing kept us in shape and gave the lads something to do, to focus on. I still try to keep up with the training, Bruce and I spar a lot of the time, we have since he was old enough to throw a punch.” Alfred tilted his head at you a little, reminiscence on his features for but a moment.

A stray image of potentially watching him spar one day landed right in your lap and it was incredibly hard not to involuntarily scoot your leg further up from where it was draped over his thigh.

He was so damn attractive it wasn’t fair. It made sense, the boxing, connecting why his shoulders were so defined, the tone in the muscles of his back, the power you knew he had behind those thick hands and even thicker thighs.

So sturdy and agile, age and old injuries just a reminder that every move was calculated for a reason.

“That’s so cool. I bet it’s a good way to let off some steam too,” you rest your chin on the plush pillows of the sofa. Something had begun to shift, a slowly simmering tension working its way between your bodies.

“Oh I can think of other things that would do that better.”

The look on his face sends a wave of heat through you, straight to your core.

“Like putting me over your knee?”

It slipped from your lips on a whim but he was ready for it and you realized he’d been enticing you this whole time.

“If that’s what you’d like then of course. Have you ever been spanked before, darling?”

You took a shallow breath, “Maybe once or twice it’s happened in the moment but no, not really, not properly like that. I-I think I’d actually enjoy it, um have you ever spanked anyone before?”

“I have.”

He unclasped his hands to sit up next to you, eyes never leaving your face, keeping the intensity up, lighting every little flame inside you by the second. He knew exactly what he was doing and you were going to let every spark catch.

“Also impressive and yes, Alfred. I want your hands on me,” you sighed a soft plea.

“C’mere then, I’ve got you.” He tugs you gently into a kiss and your fingers slide down over his wrists when they moved in to cup your face, touching you the way you wanted, so sure and thorough until he grasps for your hips, hungrier than you’d anticipated.

He doesn’t waste time, your surprised little squeal making him smile when he moves to stand up and lifts you slightly by your hips, tipping you so you’d fall into him before he was transferring your weight so you were hauled over his shoulders, centered with such ease so that you felt balanced and stable now that you were off the ground.

Your pulse thuds in your chest as you cling to him, those nervous giggles muffled against his back while he carries you to bed.

—

The short walk down the hall made you feel jittery in the best way, a nervous excitement bubbling inside you knowing he was experienced with this, that he was going to show you and make it feel so good. You were sure he would.

It’s almost crazy to be back in your room after all that’s happened today, how tense all the minutes bleeding into hours had been.

But it could all be pushed to the background for a while, your attention locked into the moment as Alfred sat down on your bed, bringing you with him, your body positioned across his lap so prettily, angled so your legs were spread just slightly with the length of his left thigh keeping you supported.

You stretched out your upper half on the duvet, propped up on your elbows to look back at him, watching as he pushed your leggings down, throwing them somewhere behind him on the bed before warm hands were caressing up your shins, over your thighs and up to the swell of your ass.

His palm kneaded your flesh, strong fingers applying a teasing amount of pressure while you squirmed and arched back into his touch.

“I’ll start slow, is that alright? Nothing too hard, just a few spanks to see what you can tolerate. If you don’t like it or aren’t sure, we don’t have to continue.” His hand moves in soothing circles across your skin and he leans in to press a kiss to your shoulder.

“Yes, I’m okay with that.” you try and breathe.

“Good, I want you to say the word red if you need to stop, yellow if you need to slow down and green to continue if I stop to check in. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

There’s a little authority in his voice and it made you squirm again, aroused by his establishment of cues and a safeword right away, how in charge he felt right now, you wanted this so badly it caught you by surprise. You hadn’t expected to be so needy for this.

Remembering that he was waiting for a reply you squeak out a yes and have to bite your lip to keep from gasping when he pulls his hand back and swats the center of your ass, more sound behind the movement than there was force but it still made you jolt forward.

You groaned at the dull sting that prickled your skin after and glanced at Alfred who was already studying your reaction.

“Well done, how did that feel?” he cooed praise at you and this time you don’t try to stop the sound you make in response.

“Felt good, like what I was expecting but also different but I liked it, I want more.” your legs flexed when his hands smooth over your skin one more time, his pleased smirk at your declaration making heat pool in your lower back.

You wished he would slip off your underwear too, so then he’d be able to see just how soaked you were from all this but you knew you had to be patient and the reward would be everything.

You do take a second, however, to wiggle out of your sweater, starting to feel warm under the fleece lined fabric, and when you glanced back Alfred was admiring just as you thought he might be.

No bra, nothing underneath but soft, brown skin for him to feel and just to entice him a little more, you arch your hips, making your ass jiggle, just enough to pull his steely gaze down your backside.

The next spank is firmer than the first, more heaviness to his hand that made you whimper, your mind feeling a little hazy in the best way, the kind of haze that felt like a release, a soft bed to lay down on and surrender some control because you knew you’d be taken care of.

Thwap!

Whimpers and moaned out gasps mark the smack of his palm on each of your asscheeks, only a slight increase in the amount of force so that the sting just bordered on stealing your breath.

“Christ, you’re so gorgeous like this, baby.”

His accent was deeper, that gruff voice sending tingles rippling across your spine, going down smooth like whiskey and followed by his left hand sliding over your back to rest on your right hip, making sure you couldn’t squirm away.

He made each spank hurt in the most delightful way, alternating between right and left and then across both cheeks, spreading out the sensation, giving you a feel for which areas were more sensitive, which areas you liked being spanked at.

“Oh, fuck!” breathy curses left your lips when he kept at it, precise hands giving you just the right amount of impact.

“Good girl, you are doing so well. I think it’s time we take these off, hm?” he coaxes your hips up slightly so he can hook his fingers under the waistband of your panties and you’re all but begging him to.

Nevermind if he felt like tearing them in two, you would have let him, but he’s polite in how he strips you despite the way you feel him stirring, hardening beneath where you lay. God, you wanted him so badly.

“Please touch me, oh please,” you don’t even realize the words are coming from you.

In barely audible little pleas muffled by where your face is flush with the bed but Alfred doesn’t miss anything and he’s grinning in your peripheral.

“You should see how soaked you are, love. Need my fingers there, is that right?” his fingers were already inching towards where you ached the most, his right hand circling, distracting you from being able to speak while preparing you for another spank.

“Yes! Please, Alfred, I want it so much!” your whimper leaves both of you aching.

A tremble in your thighs had spread down to your pointed toes with the way he swirled the pads of his index and middle fingers over the slick mess between your thighs.

Slow and sweet as he slid them over your folds and circled over your clit, waiting and then rewarded with the eventual roll and arch of your hips, his free hand drawing back and then coming down on heated skin.

You gave a strangled cry, the sound turning into a moan when his fingers continued to circle your clit, responding to the way your body reacted, only taking his eyes off you for a moment when he finally put aside his self control to watch your pretty pussy swallow his thick fingers.

He worked you open gently, remembering how you liked him to move, where those sensitive spots were even at this new angle.

Giving you something to clench around with his next spank, coaxing you to rock into his touch like he could see you wanted to do, the gorgeous sway of your hips trying to meet the plunge of his fingers, undeniably needy for him.

You knew he could hear it in the way you cried out his name, how sensitive your entire body was now, the broken, pleading edge to the way you praise him in return, telling him how good it felt, how much you’d been needing this.

The pleasure built higher as did Alfred’s movements, a hiss at the edge of your words at each searing swat of his hands that mixed with the scissoring of his fingers, both working in careful, measured tandem.

“That’s my girl, come on, that’s it!” he grits out when you push up onto your elbows again and grind your hips back.

The passion and possession in the way he called you his merged with the curving of his fingers and you both know you’re there, tender walls fluttering as you come, thighs aching, your whole body tingling, trembling with the steady roll of his wrist keeping the pleasure drawn out, filling your entire body.

You’re not embarrassed by the tears that prick your eyes or the sob in your throat that follow when he finally flips you over, laying you back because you’d begged for him to and who was he to refuse you, an angel.

If you wanted his face between your thighs, eating your dripping pussy until you were too sensitive to take it, that’s exactly what he’d give you and it’s why you weren’t shy, not in this moment, not when you knew he wanted it just as much as you.

Soft hands disturb the careful style of Alfred’s hair, unable to help it when his tongue licks you and the salt and pepper scruff scratches achingly over your inner thighs, daring you to try and close them.

Not like you’d want to, able to see how his shoulders curved and bulged with the stretch of his shirt as he kept your legs parted with his body.

This was everything you had wanted, moaning at the way he consumed you so lovingly, a weight in his touch and in his encouraging, filthy words that told you he wasn’t holding back now, you were his girl, he could show you the more true depth of his desire now.

And you were safe to do the same, you craved it actually, always wanting this and you reason you have this entire time, craving this level of care and need, even obsession with each other, so much trust and feelings at the center of it.

“So good, baby. Just like that, please…” you barely get the words out, lungs losing air from the focus he gave to your words even before you finished speaking.

His hands didn’t stay idle, the grip of his hands over your body like he wanted to memorize the feel of you, the way you dipped and curved and stretched and it drove you wild, the wet suction of his mouth the only thing your mind could focus on.

It’s a wonder you can even move when he finally withdraws his mouth from your puffy lips, turning his still hungry and devoted gaze towards your chest, those stiff peaks he’d been neglecting through all this, but no longer.

You squirmed into the flick of his tongue, the way he kissed your skin and praised and nipped and got his lips on every inch of skin that he could while you just laid back and relaxed, recovered from the orgasm still twitching in the muscles of your arms, your thighs, your tummy.

“Just look at you. Fuck, I am so lucky,” he rumbles against your collar and you wrap your arms around him, curled against him.

“I feel exactly the same way.”

His soft huff of breath against your neck tickled and you snake your legs around him, hoping to keep him close, just wanting to be in his arms and under his body for as long as you could.

You’d take forever, and that was all you needed to know.

The Shoreline Lofts

November 27

12:00 a.m.

The Batman was watching. Unblinking and focused, planted in place but ready for anything that might come. Folding himself into the inky cloak of the midnight hour.

The Iceberg Lounge was directly beneath the loft space but that wasn’t why Bruce had come tonight.

No, he was far more interested in what Penguin got up to in private, without guests and dancers and clients around, what secrets or clues might be yielded if he just sat and watched, surveilled for a while.

He was curious why the man you had recognized from the news was connected to Scarecrow and he didn’t believe for a moment that Oz wasn’t keeping tabs on what his men were doing, he had to have known the attack was going to happen.

Motives were unclear but pieces of this horrid puzzle were starting to come together so Bruce wouldn’t rest until he could see the grand picture for what it was.

He tipped the binoculars back up to the blackened edges of his cowl, zeroing in again on where Oz was playing pool, unaware a shadow sat spying through the skylight.

The building’s layout was already scoped out, every entry point found, tested, and memorized. Now Bruce would wait and watch until Penguin left the loft to slip in and see what he could find.

Gordon needed intel, something to go on after grasping for dead end’s, there was no time to sit on things, not after what he’d seen today.

Not after you and Alfred were almost hurt and especially not after he’d seen what the toxin did to people, recognizing the look of anguish in their eyes like his own reflection.

A waking nightmare was no stranger to Bruce so he’d make sure of this, Scarecrow would be made to answer.

A/N: It’s been so long and I have missed writing for Alfred and I’m really surprised and proud of what I wrote here! Went through a lot of emotions trying to get this on the page and there was a lot of self doubt and anxiety and unfairly beating myself up about things not coming together but here we are and I just really love that I pushed through and had fun putting this all together in the end 💕 We stan protective Alfred! Like if that’s not a whole husband right there!

Thanks for giving this a read!

no pressure tags! 💌 @flamingdisputes @saradika @ozarkthedog @tarabyte3 @tarrenterror25 @the-eyes-of-andyserkis @communism-bitches @xnodamsel @glitterjuju @mariahthelioness29 @ayoarticulate @fluffyprettykitty @unrefinedmusings @xoxovivafics @peachyteabuck

#amalia writes #alfred pennyworth x reader #alfred pennyworth x black reader #alfred pennyworth x woc #the batman!alfred pennyworth #alfred pennyworth smut #alfred pennyworth x you #alfred pennyworth fanfiction #alfred pennyworth fanfic #andy serkis

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lesinquietes · 7 months

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Ok but what about Bandit Leader Shigaraki, who guides his league of villains from village to village with the intent to plunder, but he decides to take you as a war prize

Tw; hinted noncon, violence, yandere

—

He hates the world so much. That’s why he learned how to fight and swindle and take what he wants, because no one else is going to give him a fucking break, are they? No. He paved his own path. And now, the world is going to pay for how it treats the underdogs.

His league camps out on the border of defenseless villages. He makes the mayor hike taxes and collect other funds for the purpose of paying Shigaraki and his crew a security deposit. In exchange, they don’t wreak havoc or destroy the village. It’s only when the income ceases flowing that there becomes an issue.

He attacks your village when your mayor doesn’t follow through with the security payment. He’s happy to do it, just as he’s been happy to do it various times in the past in other locations; there’s a high that comes from the process of plundering that he can’t describe. He’s even made it into a game, of sorts. Old people are worth fifty points. Young people are worth ten — twenty if they’re annoying. Babies and children don’t count. It’s a simple mindset that keeps him amused.

But when he aims his gun at you, having slaughtered your family already, he finds his trigger finger hesitating. There you are, hands over your head, quivering and whimpering in the corner. You’re in a silk nightdress that accents your frame beautifully. Your hair is messy and loose. The tears streaming down your face only add to your appeal. Your image — albeit the portrait of a frightened soul — is captivating.

He stands there for a few minutes before lowering the pistol. He can’t shoot you; there’s something obliging him to do otherwise. He thinks you might have a better use than being dead.

“You’d be a waste as a corpse.” He snickers cruelly. “I think I have an idea of how you can pull your weight around camp, though.”

As he grabs a fistful of your locks and drags you out of your burning family home, he grins maliciously. One second, you’re screaming about him hurting you; the next, you’re begging him to let you go. You’re already proving to put up a fun little fruitless fight.

Shigaraki tows you over to his league, who lie in the centre of your ravaged village. They leer at you with hunger in their depraved eyes. Lately, his bed has been cold at night, without anyone to warm it. He realizes his men must feel the same way.

“Hope you’re ready to show us how much you want to keep your life.”

#tw noncon #minors dni #reader is wearing a dress #shigaraki x reader #lov x reader #league of villains x reader #Tomura x reader

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dwobbitfromtheshire · 3 months

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From Hell to Home to Back Again

Summary: At the talent show, Chrissy Cunningham is so hungry that she nearly collapses. When she's found by Hopper, her parents ended up losing custody of her. She ends up being placed in the care of the Hendersons, and she finally finds the family she so desperately needed. She also ends up falling in love. What other changes are made in this alternate universe?

A/N: The catwalk scene is from FOI, I wrote from Chrissy's perspective. Tw: Child abuse.

Prologue

January 1980

Chrissy really hadn't wanted to do the Talent Show. No, that was all for her mother, who was always looking for a reason to humiliate her. Nothing Chrissy ever did was good enough for her, including the routine she has just done that was created entirely by Laura. The only reason she had messed up was because she had been so hungry, and she nearly fainted. Chrissy had managed to escape up to the catwalk to avoid being criticized by her own mother only to find that she hadn't been the only one to think of it. A boy only a couple of years older than her was sitting up there, looking down at the audience. He was wearing a flannel shirt, and he had holes in pants. His head was buzzed, and she could tell that his big brown eyes were searching for someone. He was kind of cute. Knowing her mother would disapprove, Chrissy sat down next to the boy. Chrissy fought back the smile when he jumped.

"Are you looking for someone?" She asked.

Chrissy could see the doubt in his eyes. Why would a girl like her talk to a guy like him? She gave him what she hoped was an encouraging smile, and he snapped out of it.

"My dad," the boy replied.

"Where is he?" She asked and started looking for him as if she knew what he looked like, but the boy just shrugged. "He didn't come?"

Chrissy felt envious for a moment, wishing her mother hadn't come at all. She knew that not everyone's parents were like hers.

"He's just running late," he replied.

She didn't know why she did it, but she wound up lying to the boy. How could she possibly tell him that she was hiding from her own mom like a coward?

"I came up here to look for my mom," she replied.

"She's running late, too?" He asked.

"I wish. She's right there," Chrissy said wrinkling her nose and pointing her out in the ground.

"I'm sorry," he said and Chrissy smiled.

"Me too," she whispered.

"My band's up next," he said. "Uh."

"Break a leg," Chrissy told him. "And - "

"Eddie."

"Eddie, if your dad gets held up, I'll cheer for you," Chrissy said as she shook her arms about.

"Right back atcha," Eddie said, wincing, and Chrissy giggled.

Chrissy, unfortunately, had to face the music like Eddie was going to. She went down to the audience to watch Eddie, and she couldn't help but be amazed at the sight of him. He was so passionate. . .so free. . .she wished she could be like him in that moment. When he found her eyes in the crowd, she stood on her chair and cheered for him when he finished. Laura hadn't liked that and dragged her to the lobby to lay into her about her behavior.

"I only messed up because I was so hungry," Chrissy cried.

"Nonsense, you had lunch," Laura said.

"Not enough, mom," Chrissy replied.

"You have an eating problem, Chrissy," Laura said. "I'm only trying to help you. You don't want to be a little piggy forever, do you?"

Laura pinched her cheek, and Chrissy scowled before biting down on her hand.

"You're my problem!" Chrissy shrieked, and then she ran off, hiding in the coat closet.

She thought for sure that no one was going to find her until she heard the sound of footsteps and voices.

"I spoke too soon when I told the mayor that I didn't need to be here," the familiar voice of Chief Hopper sighed. "Now, we've got a missing kid."

The door opened, and she saw the Chief reaching for his coat. He grabbed it, revealing her face.

"Don't tell my parents I'm here," Chrissy sniffled. "Please."

"Why don't you want me to call your parents?" Hopper asked, kneeling down.

"My mom won't let me eat! The only reason I messed up my routine was because I was so hungry and I got sleepy, so I tripped!" Chrissy sobbed. "And when I told mom that I was hungry, she pinched my cheek and called me a piggy."

"Is that where she pinched you?" Hopper asked, pointing to her cheek, and she nodded.

"She always does it too hard," Chrissy sniffled as her stomach growled loudly. "I got tired of it, so I bit her. Are you going to arrest me?"

"If I'm going to arrest anyone, it's probably going to be your mom," Hopper said. "Let's get you something to eat."

Hopper held out his hand, and she looked at him for a moment before slipping her hand into his. She grabbed her coat and let him help her into it.

"CHRISTINE CUNNINGHAM!" Laura's voice shrieked as she moved through the lobby.

Laura went to grab Chrissy, but Hopper pulled her gently behind him. Her mother looked affronted at his audacity, and Chrissy couldn't help but smirk.

"I think you and your husband need to go down to the station to answer a few questions," Hopper said. "I'm going to get some food for your daughter."

"I don't know what she's been telling you, but she's lying. Kids say the darndest things for attention," Laura said.

"So, you haven't been starving or hurting her?" Hopper asked.

"She had a big lunch. She doesn't need to eat," Laura said.

Just then, Chrissy's stomach growled loudly, proving Laura wrong. Chrissy wanted to look at anywhere else, but at her mother, who glanced down at her in anger. She peaked out from behind Hopper to find Eddie staring at her.

"I'm sorry," he mouthed.

Another officer ended up dragging Chrissy's screaming mother off to another car with her dad following behind her. Philip didn't even bother looking at Chrissy. She stared at them for a moment before climbing into Hopper's car. The entire car ride was silent as he drove her to Benny's diner. They ordered and sat down in a booth.

"What's going to happen?" Chrissy asked.

"That depends on what we find out. We're going to have to set you up with a doctor so we have evidence of what your mother's been doing. I mean, we're definitely going to have to contact social services. Depending on how bad they determine your home life is, they might take you out of the home," Hopper said, and Chrissy tried to stop the smile from forming. "It's okay to be happy about that, kid."

"What if I end up somewhere worse?" Chrissy asked.

"I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure that it doesn't happen," Hopper said with a sigh. "But I also can't make you any promises."

"Thank you for being honest," Chrissy said and paused after Benny delivered their food. "She wasn't always like this, you know."

"No?" Hopper asked as bit into his own burger.

"My brother died, and I think her sadness consumed her. She didn't know how to control it, so it controlled her, and then she controlled me. What she did wasn't okay, but I get it and hope one day soon, I'll be able to forgive her. She's still my mom and I love her," Chrissy said.

"You have a big heart, kid. Don't ever lose that," Hopper said, wrapping his knuckles on the table.

Chrissy smiled and bit into her burger. She was starting to feel full for the first time in a while. Hopper, even though he seemed scary, was the kindest man she ever met along with his friend Benny. He was funny, and he even gave her a free milkshake. She knew it was a pity shake, but she accepted it nonetheless. After that, social services were quick to get her out of the home when they discovered that there were locks on the fridge, and the doctor told them Chrissy definitely needed to eat more. Now, the Chief was standing with her in front of the house, her things in his car.

"Claudia's the nicest woman you'll ever meet, trust me," Hopper said.

"I do," Chrissy said.

The minute she stepped into the Hendersons' she felt the difference between her house and this one. Her house had been cold and frightening but this house was nothing but warmth. Claudia greeted her with a sweet smile and kindness in her eyes that Chrissy's own mother never had. Beside her was an eight year old boy with curly brown hair.

"Hi, I'm Claudia, and this is my son Dustin," she said. "Do you prefer Christine or Chrissy?"

"Chrissy," she smiled shyly.

"That works out perfectly. I always call Dustin 'Dusty'," Claudia smiled.

"I like your hair. It's red and blond at the same time," Dustin said.

"It's called strawberry blonde," Chrissy said in amusement.

"Oh, cool. I love strawberries," Dustin said.

"Well, unfortunately, my hair doesn't taste like them," Chrissy said and Dustin snorted. "Ooh, kitty cat!"

An orange cat brushed up against her leg, and she knelt down to pet the cat.

"Oh, that's Mews," Dustin said. "She's mom's cat, really. Mom loves cats."

"I love cats, too! Mom never let me have one, though," Chrissy said as she pet the cat.

"You're going to fit in just fine here," Claudia beamed and put her arm around her. "Do you want something to eat or drink?"

As Claudia kept a comforting arm around Chrissy, she realized that she never wanted to leave.

Chapter One

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amorhedera6 · 6 months

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((this turned out longer and more in depth then i meant for it to go, tw for abusive families, suicidal ideation, mentions of death, grief, and dismembering of a body))

headcannon that steph and max were best friends as kids. his dads an important man, one that solomon wanted on his side. so he pushed steph to spend time with his son. max was a super happy kid, very exciteable, loved musicals. they were on their own a lot, since neither of their parents really gave a shit, so they’d spend a lot of time at starlight theatre, watching all the different shows and things going on. max would tell her about how shitty his dad was and she’d do the same in return.

when they got to the 7th grade, steph got really depressed and pushed max and everyone else away. and max was little, they both didn’t really know what was going on. after that, they weren’t ever really close like that again. she got on the middle school football team and was deemed a prodigy, got popular, started getting all these friends that would do whatever he said. things with his dad got worse, and without steph to help him he started bullying to corral his emotions. steph knew what he was doing, but also knew it wasn’t serious. he pushed a few people around a little, that’s all. she didn’t think she had to be worried about her friend and now that he was super popular, she needed other people to spend her time with.

she also became cool, just because he said hi to her in the hallways, so she found herself in with his group. but she never truly felt she fit in, skirting along the edges. in high school, her friends all joined the cheer squad as she joined the smoke club and stop giving a shit about school. she never made sense in the “popular kid” crowd, but she assumed they kept her around bc she was the mayor’s daughter and pushing her out wouldn’t fly. it was actually max, making sure she got an invite to every party.

steph sort of floats through high school disassociatedly, in the my-home-life-is-terrible-and-isn’t-gonna-get-better-until-college-so-i-don’t-give-a-shit way, so she doesn’t see the escalation of max knowing no one will stop him doing anything, getting a total god complex, and ruling the school with violence, until pete. she’s probably the only person in hatchetfield high that doesn’t know, but it surprised her so much. bc max? the boy who would geek out over tech production of the musicals? the kid who let her be the captain when they were pirates bc he thought it was more fun to be the first mate? who’d stay up late with her when she had a bad day to read the books their moms were had promised to read to them? that boy is this horrible bully, and she didn’t even know it? it just doesn’t make sense.

she says she’ll go to the principal bc that’s the first instinct one has about this shit, but people started doing that in 8th grade, and all that happens is max has to go to an anti bullying thing every few months. she wants to talk him down, figure out what made him go this far, but she already knows it’s his dad. he wants to be the big impressive football star that his dad wants him to be, so maybe he’ll actually give a shit. he wants his dad to notice and tell him to stop, because then it would mean he was paying attention to what he did. daddy issues recognize daddy issues, and steph sees it in max, even if she did have prior knowledge. she goes along with grace’s plan bc she thinks it’ll be a good ego check to bring him down, but then. then.

she goes home and cries herself to sleep, feeling responsible for the death of her first real friend. she gets sick for weeks with flashes of her dismembering his body with the others, and while every one else’s seems to think the school’s getting better, all stephanie can think is “did no one else fucking care about him? even a little?” all his friends, the football guys, even her friends on the cheer squad, seem to not care about max’s disappearance as much as they care about his missing spot on the field. she starts to skip more until she decides to hang out with pete instead. he must be guilty too, be haunted by these images, but then he says “everything is objectively better.”

which she gets. people are free from his torment, they can do what they want, talk to who they want, etc. the hallways are brighter, people are happier, whatever. but max was still a person. steph wonders if the plan had gone right, maybe he would’ve come back down from his god complex and been more like she remembered him. if he would’ve done the spring musical like he’d always wanted to do but never felt like he could. if he would’ve hated her for it forever. she’d rather he hate her forever than her have helped kill him.

when they have to start talking about what happened, she tries to call him jägerman, tries to disconnect her friend from what happened, because he truly was drastically different, but it was hard. after richie and ruth, shut goes crazy and max is back, but he’s not really max. she feels like the worst friend in the world when she think “he looks like his dad”

because mr jägerman has always been a being full of rage and anger, not one to hide in his own home. she’d seen him scream and yell at max for being a regular little kid, not special at all. not the perfect son he wanted. max, this weird spector of max, is all rage, no heart. even when max was at his worst, he had some heart. he kept her in the “cool group” even though she made no sense there, let grace go unbullied bc he had a crush on her. this wasn’t max. this was a personification of his dying moments, the only thing the waylon place did was preserve, and maybe further his anger.

she wants to beg pete to kill her the way he begs her to kill him. she started all this, even if she denied it at beanies, it’s true, and she is probably the only one who could have helped max stay a regular guy instead of the egomaniac ruler of the school he became. but she can’t get the words off her tongue. so long she’s been thinking about how easier everyone’s lives would be if she just killed herself, and now she can’t even do this. he gets on his knees in the football field, she raises the gun from twenty yards away, and thinks about how many people this thing that isn’t really max has killed.

she forces herself to pull the trigger.

max stops the bullet.

grace fucks the ghost, and all is well. except she’s met gods who seem like they want to eat her, and now her father’s dead too. he was an asshole, he never really cared about her, but she sobs for hours n the big empty house on pinebrook, and wishes desperately that she had made pete do it.

she and pete check on each other, because he also lost two people important to him, and they hold each other up. get each other through it. help each other mourn. she meets his older brother, he helps her clean out her father’s office. they go to funerals together and hold hands, and don’t talk about it.

it takes her a little while to realize his homecoming offer is still up, since things are technically different now. she buys a dress and tells him only the color, and he wears a matching bow tie. it’s such a ridiculously peter thing to do, and it makes her laugh for the first time in a while. they laugh together a lot that night, and she helps him breathe through a panic attack in the bathroom when ruth’s favorite song comes on.

she tells him about the images she can’t get out of her head, maxs body in pieces, the blood everywhere, that she burned the clothes she wore that day bc she couldn’t get the smell of blood and bleach out no matter how often she washed it. he tells her that he’s having flashbacks like that too, and that he wishes he could talk to his therapist about it without being sent to jail or a mental hospital.

she talks to detective shapiro and gets her to send a letter to peters therapist that he’s not gonna be arrested so pete can talk his shit out. at least the non-ghost and demon stuff. the dismembering a guy stuff, though, he can talk about.

it gets her thinking about therapy and getting some. she’s 18, she’s got more money than is necessary from her father, and she thinks she’s going crazy. she looks into it and finds one, starts going once a week. he tells steph he things she has adhd, sends her to a psychiatrist who confirms the diagnosis. she gets some drugs to take, and she feels weird about taking them. she’s done drugs, but like the cool ones. she knows not to do drugs you’re unfamiliar with when your alone, and she feels like she’s a lot of that.

homecoming was fun, but she and pete still haven’t out any label in their relationship. they haven’t said i love you, even though everything that went down means the both know it. she wants to be his girlfriend, but she doesn’t want to ask. wants him to ask. she tells her therapist as much, and then complains that she’s paying him bc she’s got daddy issues and trauma, not to hear about her high school drama.

but miraculously, he does ask her to be his gf. and then they’re dating, and it’s great. she spends more time at his apartment with his brother, less time alone in the big empty house just thinking about max and her hand in who he became. he and her therapist together convince her to start taking the meds, and it helps with some of her problems, but not all of them.

she forces herself to keep living, even when she doesn’t want to, because that’s what max (her best friend, the kid who was too scared tontry out for the musical, the asshole, the boy she knew better than herself, the adult she apparently hardly knew, the spector she could only half recognize) would want from her.

#max jagerman deserved a redemption arc #so im giving it to him #post mortem #bc this is cannon compliant im afraid #steph and max were best friends ik it #nerdy prudes must die #npmd #steph lauter #stephanie lauter #max jagerman #peter spankoffski #brief lautski bc i have no control #starkid #hatchetfield #The Rambles

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blueberry-bubbles130 · 9 months

Text

The disappointment of the characterisation of the Bourgeois family in Miraculous Ladybug.

This essay/post will be talking about my feelings regarding the characterisation of Bourgeois family, as I'm doing a rewrite fanfiction of Miraculous and the Bourgeois family plays an extremely important part in my rewrite.

Trigger Warnings include:

TW: Child abuse

Child neglect

Verbal abuse

Emotional abuse

Domestic Violence

If I have forgotten to add any trigger warnings in the post please comment and I'll add them as soon as I can.

Getting this out of the way with now because I don't want to focus on her in this post, and because she won't be in my rewrite at all, I don't like Zoe. In the canon of the show all she serves as is a replacement for Chloe and a wielder of the Bee Miraculous. Unfortunately in the canon show, she is tied to the miraculous and Chloe in such a way that she cannot be talked about with bringing Chloe salt/bashing into the discussion, and has no true character of her own out of just being nice. There are others in the show who already could've filled the role much better. Zoe is far better written in fanon and fanfiction. But I don't want to be beating a long dead horse so there are other posts you can read to see Zoe's poor implementation in the show, and absolutely great fanfictions you can read that gives her a developed character if you like her. With that being said lets get onto the main essay.

Who are the Bourgeois family?

In the show the Bourgeois family are an upper class family that are said to hold a lot of influence. The family consists of Andre Bourgeois; the patriarch of the family who owns a hotel, and is also the mayor of Paris. Audrey Bourgeois; the matriarch of the family and a famous fashion critic. And Chloe Bourgeois; the child of the family and the temporary bee miraculous holder. The Bourgeois family can be considered a large secondary example of Miraculous's wasted potential, and it's inability to truly give a satisfying conclusion to any concept they've tried to execute during it's run. And some will say this is just the end of an arc and season 6 will continue and deliver. But it won't, especially considering Miraculous' record with delivering on expected plotlines it isn't promising in the slightest and I do not hold hope for season 6. Despite this, I'm rather interested in the Bourgeois family, and they are my favourite part of Miraculous making it even more disappointing to see the outcome of the plotline involving them.

Audrey Bourgeois-

I'm doing Audrey Bourgeois first because despite having a lot to say about all the family members, I have the least to say about Audrey.

Audrey is characterised as a harsh fashion critic who has nothing kind to say about anyone around her. Her kind words are only reserved for someone who can truly impress her, examples being Marinette and Gabriel. Marinette being shown to the audience and Gabriel being told to the audience. She is responsible for launching Gabriel into fame as a fashion designer. Audrey isn't even remotely nice to her own family. She abandons them mostly and seems to return only when work arises in Paris. And even then she belittles both her husband and Chloe constantly.

Something I find interesting in fanfiction for Miraculous Ladybug is that before we got any glimpse of who Audrey is. Everyone assumed she'd died and they either called her Simone or Julia, Julie or Juliette. And this gave depth to both Chloe, and Andre. This will be discussed again later.

Audrey's character has at least stayed consistent throughout Miraculous' ever-increasing run, which is a miracle considering Miraculous issues with characterisation, among other issues. However at the same time it's quite odd considering unlike Andre who got more developed regarding his past and what he wants, Audrey remains quite flat character-wise with only glimpses of there possibly something else to her. I think that Audrey despite staying consistent and explaining a lot about Chloe and Andre, she's still wasted potential. In one of the episodes characters such as Gabriel, Natalie and and I think maybe Tomoe are shown watching important story information on a tv. This would seemingly hint that Audrey had something to do with Gabriel. Which is believable considering Audrey's personality and previous appearances with Gabriel. However as of season 5 this has not been expanded upon in anyway whatsoever and like I keep saying I doubt it will be in season 6 or future seasons if they get anymore. This makes me believe that Audrey should've been expanded upon as a villain, she could've stolen a miraculous and possibly became a main villain. She's close to Gabriel, she's got the perfect personality for it; the only thing she needed to be a good villain was a decent motivation and I easily could've believed her becoming a villain if she'd been given decent motivation. She's already controlling and demanding, so Zoe could've never been introduced and you could've had it so she wants ultimate control over Andre and Chloe while placing herself as some sort of evil Queen. And that's all I really have to say about Audrey. Hell! I've already seen a few posts where people state that Audrey should've taken over as mayor after Andre, which makes a hell of a lot more sense then Chloe doing it. It's not exactly the same because she's the stepmother, but something I think Audrey should've been a bit like but far more toned down for the child audience is like Julia Cotton from Hellraiser. She's just so perfect as a example of someone willing to go to extremes in order to achieve their desires. Hell it's already there in her akuma, Style Queen! Just make her an evil queen, it wouldn't have been that hard and then we wouldn't have to deal with that mess we got with them attempting to make Gabriel sympathetic but then being shown him horribly abusing his son with glee at every opportunity he gets. You could keep Gabriel and Natalie sympathetic and make Audrey even more despicable than she is.

Also Audrey is clearly abusive, and in 2023 we should not need to have debates over whether she is because some people say she's just cruel. No she's abusive, it's clearly abuse.

Chloe Bourgeois-

Chloe is definitely my favourite character out of the Bourgeois family and Miraculous as a whole, and while her characterisation post season 3 does sadden and disappoint me, it doesn't anger me like what the writers did with Andre.

Chloe starts the series as nothing more than an obnoxious bully who torments her classmates. When we get to season 2 we get to see Chloe receive more depth as a character and see how her parents helped her in becoming the person she is today. Then season 3 happened and we see Miracle Queen. Now I don't think Miracle Queen is completely horrid, It makes sense that Chloe may begin to regress or backslide into her unhealthy habits. And I've even seen people still redeem her with miracle queen being in their stories. What pisses me off about Miracle Queen, especially when people online talk about it, is that they just seem to forget about Gabriel akumatising Audrey and Andre to use as blackmail against Chloe. Like yes at the end of the day, Chloe still makes the decision to become Miracle Queen and do what she did. But you cannot deny that a fully grown man who should know better, put the two people she presumably cared about the most at this point in danger in order to blackmail her. He cornered her on the balcony and essentially railroaded her into making that decision. Like what was she going to do if she said no, she can't fight Hawkmoth without a miraculous and even if she'd tried he might've legitimately hurt her or her parents to win. Here again we see fanfics just knock the show out of the water, with many people deciding to make Chloe trick Hawkmoth into giving her the miraculous and then she just runs away to get help. Also Marinette shouldn't have gotten involved in Chloe's family drama, like why did she think it was a good idea to do what she did in Queen wasp. Just why?

Something else regarding Chloe's character arc that just genuinely confuses me is that during season 2 it's obvious in episodes like Zombizou, Style Queen, Queen Wasp and Malediktator is that they're written by other writers who have differing opinions on Chloe to Thomas Astruc. And now I think Thomas was busy on a different project while this was was being written, which is fine. But what confuses me is that surely Thomas could've looked over the episode script and maybe said to change it. Instead of just letting a character he clearly does not like get development he also didn't like and then arguing with Chloe fans and Miraculous fans who may not like Chloe but understand her character arc was butchered as well as others, on twitter over it.

As well as this is season 5, I think it's revealed season 1-5 of Miraculous takes place over 1 school year. In France the average school year is about 10 months long lasting from September to late June early July. This means each season could technically take place over about 2 months. This gives Chloe 2-4 months at most to redeem herself. Which is just too much to expect of her to try and completely redeem herself and undo a lifetime of unhealthy behaviours in that short of a timespan. No wonder Miracle Queen happened, she hasn't had the proper support to try and unlearn those behaviours or redeem herself. And it makes Andre giving her over to her mother even more saddening/rage enducing, because Zoe has been around for the same time Chloe was given to try and unlearn her healthy behaviours. So Andre has abandoned his daughter who's he risen for her entire 13-14 year life for some child he's known for about 3 months at best.

Then season 4 and 5 begin the endless parade of Chloe Salt/Bashing in order to prop up Zoe. As well as the butchering of other characters, to continue hammering in that point, such as Andre, but we'll get to him later. Now I'm not saying I'm completely against the idea of evil Chloe, there are some brilliant fanfics out there with Chloe just either hamming it up as an evil villain or treated as a tragic villain, who's fall from grace is a pure tradegy. And I love it both because it treats Chloe with the seriousness she deserves, the majority of fanfics treat the abuse she's suffered with seriousness and not as some joke like the serious does. You want a absolutely brilliant Chloe Bourgeois fanfic read "Float like a Butterfly, Sting like a Bee" on ao3 it's just so good and I can't recommend it enough.

Also on the topic of redemptions Sabrina, Felix, Natalie and especially Gabriel shouldn't gotten redemptions. Gabriel, Sabrina and Felix don't show any remorse for their actions, in fact they all show glee in their actions apart from Natalie. But even then none of them truly face any punishments for their actions and sure Gabriel doesn't get to enjoy Emilie being back alive, but he still gets away with his numerous crimes.

As a final note on Chloe's development, it's been said by some people before it's quite harmful that Chloe doesn't get treated with the seriousness that she deserves and is one of the only villains not given a redemption as well as not being what is considered a "perfect" or "idealised" victim of abuse like Adrien is. And as someone who has lashed out at others due to issues with authoritive figures in the past (not to the extent Chloe has thought, especially with the bullying and wealth, I'm also not French) I do relate to Chloe in a small way. And this makes it harder for me personally, and it really is just harmful because it might give kids who have lashed out like her due to similar or the same issues the same idea that they don't deserve love or a guardian who can actually care for them in the way they need, as children.

I'm not saying give Chloe a redemption, she just should've been treat with the seriousness she needed.

Gettting back on track lets talk about the final member of the Bourgeois family.

Andre Bourgeois-

Oh Andre, where do I begin with him, in canon.

For seasons 1 to 3 he's mainly Chloe's nervous father and enabler. Then we get a bit of depth in season 4 and 5 about him wanting to be a director but not getting to due to Audrey and politics. Then in season 5 he lets Audrey take Chloe.

A deleted part of the script was revealed in which originally he gave Chloe to Audrey which in itself is horrific because he knows how Audrey is. Not only has she subjected Chloe to verbal abuse but him as well. This would be changed in the series to him just letting Audrey take Chloe, which is just as worse. These are just as bad because either way he's trying to absolve himself of any responsibility of what happened with Chloe which he is equally responsible for as he is Chloe's main enabler. And you know I actually had some hope for him in canon that he'd realise it was time to as someone else brilliantly put it "ditch the bitch" and forge a better relationship with Chloe, but that never happened. I guess that's what I get for having hope for Miraculous's canon.

It legitimately pisses me off so fucking much than in canon he gets to wash his hands clean of the whole problem with Chloe.

Now fanon Andre is so much better than his Canon counterpart and thinking about it now, Fanon Andre has always been better than his canon counterpart.

Bringing back up the whole thing about fanfics that pre-date Audrey is that it gives not only Chloe but Andre more depth. These fanfics typically paint the picture that Andre is a man that closed off not only by politics but the death of his wife and because he's not in tune with his own emotions, he can't help Chloe so instead of ignoring her grief like her father, Chloe is lashing out instead.

Even fanon versions of Andre that are more far more closed off, corrupt, and evil are much more enjoyable to read about than canon Andre, and have more depth. Something about Canon Andre just makes him even more loathsome and detestable then his many often better fanon versions. And when he does get redeemed in fanon it's just so good, because the people writing him, understand what makes his character have actual depth to him and make him realise his faults in a satisfying way that gives him a good redemption.

Maybe it was just me projecting the fanon versions of Andre onto the Canon version that made my disappointment and anger so much worse. But either way his overall canon characterisation is disappointing.

Again if you want to a fanfic that has Andre be a good antagonist, read "Chloe and the Bee" by @anxresi it isn't complete but what is there is just brilliant. And If you'd prefer to read a fanfiction where Andre is trying his best to be a good parent to Chloe read "Float like a Butterfly....Sting like a Bee" by Bookmonkey on ao3. They're both such amazing fanfics.

Conclusion-

Overall the characterisation of the Bourgeois family within the canon of the actual show is just a neatly packaged example of Miraculous' many issues such as bad writing, poor pacing, inconsistent characterisation and either attempting to poorly redeem abusers who should know better or just letting them get away without any consequences whatsoever.

I'd like to say thank you for listening to my long feral rambles about the Bourgeois family.

#miraculous ladybug #chloe bourgeois #audrey bourgeois #andre bourgeois #zoe lee #ml salt #miraculous salt #ml critical #ml analysis #mlb chloe #andré bourgeois #marinette salt #ml fandom salt #this just has a little fandom salt though not a lot

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the-martyrfication-of-the-matron · 5 months

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Soooooo got any angst ideas about the destroyer is your rewrite ? Like him having nightmares or just being trapped in the nether wondering what happen to Irene ? Or his hatred towards the divine warriors even though he actually rightfully mad ?

I greatly appreciate the erasure of Shad's name when talking to me, its a dumbass name

anyways

TW, mentions of violence, using a slightly gory/graphic description to describe physical sensation, typical Shad-convo stuff

What is he if not my angsty boy? My angsty wife, that's what.

Anyways, so my baby, right, he's not got himself a physical form in the nether/the Shadow Abyss (it's just 'the abyss' in LR for aesthetic reasons, the girlies that get it, get it), due to him being like violently murdered to the point his physical body was no longer suitable for life. However, regardless of this, he experiences near-constant phantom pains from every injury he ever sustained, healed or otherwise. Also, being only his own shadow is a very... vulnerable-feeling experience. It would be equivalent to walking around without your skin on, all of your nerves and muscles exposed. Pain. Which provides one very good motivation for someone to, idk, try and gain a physical form to try and stop the agony of your existence. which could lead him to redemption in a very 'i did what i had to in order to survive, just like everyone else' way, but.... idk, i dont know if i want to redeem him. I like how not-a-good-person he is.

Judgement (suprisingly a canon name for him, his actual name in my rewrite, because he's the OG edgelord) is plagued near-constantly with visions. Every Divine has visions of some sort, whether they're clairvoyant, or prophecies, or something. Judge's specifically are of... like... destruction. End of days, mass murders, wars, etc. it's his domain but it doesn't make it any easier to see them. It also means he dreams of his own death on a frequent basis. not fun for him.

Also, he's pretty sure he knows what happened to Irene, he was married to her for a very long time, he knew the kind of person she was. She banished him under the guise of ending all evil, and left to keep up that ruse instead of doing her duty to stay and protect people. He does think about it often, very very annoyed about it. It's another thing that leads him to do what he does. He's wondering just how many people have to die before she's willing to set aside her pride and face him. He never self-reflects on how many people have to die before he's willing to set aside his hatred.

He's spiteful towards the other divine, but he doesn't hate them, not like he hates Irene. I mean he does hate them... just kind of not as much as Irene. The others he expected to turn against him eventually, because his nature was always unfavourable, but she was meant to be his equal, they were both equally as destructive as each other (ironically).

A lot of his existence is more physically painful, he's able to cope with the visions and the bad memories, and the thoughts of 'what if' in his mind by channelling it all into anger, but things start slowly derailing upon him and Aphmau/Avra's first contact, and he doesn't understand why until he realises who she is. From there, he is the mayor of Angst town, population however-many-mcd-characters-exist.

#aphmau #aphverse #rewrite #aphblr #minecraft diaries #mcd #ranthredo #lycoris radiata/ranthredo #shad the pussy destroyer #i really should retire that tag... anyway

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rat-that-writes · 2 years

Text

cuddly affectionate hcs

a/n: what is up my crunky crew. i wanted a hug so i wrote this

tw: mention of horniness w/ illi, very very slight angst (mention of a fear w/ yancy), swearing + use of the word whore (not in a negative way)

🖤 Dark 🖤

this man acts like an actual housecat

he acts all uninterested about affection at first and probably teases you a little if you ask him for hugs

but as soon as you actually do hug or cuddle him? oh my god hes so touch starved he is not letting you go

he didn’t realise just how much he needed soft and romantic affection, it had been years

once he knows how much he actually likes hugs, he will just find you during the day and hold you

even if you’re busy, hes still gonna hold you

but only in private; he doesn’t like pda unless its hand holding or just a quick kiss

but as soon as you’re alone? it’s cuddle time babeyyyy

he likes resting his chin on your head or shoulders, especially with you in his lap

he will start subconsciously stroking your arms or waist if you’re laying down with him

he might purr…. if you get him relaxed enough

but be sure to never bring it up because he’ll try to conceal it next time

poor boy is embarrassed, bless him

💙 Damien 💙

he absolutely NEEDS cuddles when hes tired

you can easily get him to stop working and come to bed by just texting him “come cuddle?” he will be there in seconds

he loves to lay on you while you play with his hair

he will fall asleep in 5 minutes if you pet him honestly

is also like a huge cuddly house cat that constantly needs affection (Dark gets it from him)

he loves to hold hands

the size difference, the touch of your skin, just the image of your hand in his gives him butterflies

if your hands are ever remotely cold he is just !!! darling !! i must warm your hands up :))

he does like pda, but it’s best to keep things appropriate since he’s mayor and all

but he still can’t stop himself from holding your hand no matter who’s around

❤️ Actor ❤️

this man is so needyyyy

you often wake up with him half way on top of you fast asleep

he has cuddling stages during the night

usually you’ll go to sleep spooning or with your head on his chest

then if you wake up during the night he’ll be clinging to you like a koala (good luck trying to get up to pee if you need to)

and in the morning hes laying sideways over your torso like a beefy blanket

or hes just ,. on the floor. idk either man he just be like that sometimes

and if you can’t lift him up and put him back in bed, just join him on the floor

hell think its sososo endearing but is more concerned about your comfort

whenever you cuddle it will probably lead to making out

hes just so thirsty honestly

he loves spooning you and holding you tight

his favourite cuddle time is when he comes back from a day on set and you’re both sleepy and you fall asleep on the couch in each other’s arms

then benjamin wakes you and you both shuffle away to bed giggling

pda? oh baby! hes all about it

he does not care what anybody thinks he just wants kisses

but he will definitely adhere to your own boundaries

🤍 Yancy 🤍

you are this mans teddy bear

he hates sleeping without you now

if he’s on parole and you two live together/hes staying over, even if hes about to pass out on the floor he will not go to bed unless you do as well

hed rather fall asleep in an uncomfortable spot than get into bed alone

he holds you against his chest and kisses your head and neck so softly

he never holds you too tightly

he has a fear of accidentally hurting people, especially you, because hes so big and strong and rough but hes just a gentle giant once you get to know him

so he holds you so gently and sweetly as if you would break if he held on any tighter

pda he likes is kisses on the cheek and hand holding, not much more

he prefers keeping affection private, unless someone is trying to hit on you

he will literally just walk up to you and kiss you and smile at whoever was flirting with you

hes protective and doesn’t want someone taking you away from him

hell probably blush a little afterwards lol

💛 Illinois 💛

he makes a great pillow, honestly

his chest is comfy and warm and he puts his hand on your head if you sleep on him

is secretly a fan of sleeping with his head on your chest or stomach

he will never admit it but you have woken up to it multiple times

snuggling to keep warm on adventures is his favourite thing

hes pretty used to the cold, but if you’re not then he will gladly wrap you up in as many blankets as possible and hold you tight

he loves to fluster your and make you hide your face in his chest

he thinks it’s the cutest thing in the world

hes good with pda as long as you are

spooning often results in him getting hard oops

what can i say hes a horny guy

🚀 Engineer Mark 🚀

he needs cuddles so bad

hes stressed and works too hard and just needs some good love !!!!

he always peppers your face and neck and shoulders with kisses when you’re alone together

he wouldn’t mind a little pda but it’s all up to you really

he likes to let people know you’re together, with you being so strikingly beautiful and handsome and gorgeous

sometimes you have to remind him to keep it professional oops

“baby!! UM. I MEAN- CAPTAIN!”

“hey yn- AH, hey captain,”

“honey could you- CELCI GET OUT OF MY ROOM”

he doesn’t mean to be like that on purpose, he just loves you so muchhhh it makes him a little silly sometimes

🔪 Murdock 🔪

you would be surprised how much this man likes cuddling

cuddles and hugs make him feel like he’s protecting you and keeping you safe

he is secretly a little bit of a shy man with affection

he doesn’t do pda unless someone is flirting with you or making you uncomfortable

even then it’s just an arm around your shoulders or waist and a glare at whoever is speaking to you

in private he pretends he doesn’t need or even like affection, but when you do touch him he just melts immediately

he likes cuddling in bed facing each other, kissing softly every now and just being comfy and relaxed

he likes to shower with you; it’s not always sexual he just likes the vulnerability and warmth

he likes to go to sleep spooning you

he holds you pretty tight, not uncomfortably, but noticeably tight

you’re his teddy bear

🌌 God of Night 🌌

he ALWAYS wants you in his lap so he can kiss your neck and touch your thighs and waist

will show you off to the other gods every chance he gets and if there is no chance he will make one

expect cheek kisses every 4 seconds

if you’re a mortal, he would l o v e to spoil you and amaze you with all the wonders accessible to him

if you’re a higher being like him, he will constantly be ‘subtly’ showing off to you

(its not subtle AT ALL)

this bitch is the type to run up to you and spin you around and dip you down to kiss you in front of everyone

he is so smug too

hes like “everyone look at me. look at me and my SEXY ASS PARTNER. YEAH YOU WISH YOU WERE US. WE ARE SO HOT. FUCK YOU.”

is not afraid to stick his tongue in your mouth in public

an absolute whore honestly

he is all over you when you’re alone

just constant “darlingggg.. cuddle me…:(((“ he is silly

in conclusion: in public? mans is kissing you touching you showing you off and praising you. alone? DARLINGGG I NEED A HUG !!!!!

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luciel-anciel · 11 months

Text

Chains

(Yandere Mayor x Macaque)

TW: Mentions of Night Terrors, Toxic Mindset, Toxic Relationship, Kidnapping, Stalking and Unhealthy Love

°°°°°°°°°°°°

Withering from his hand, the dark-furred monkey wanted to cry out in pure agony, yet not a single sound could escape his throat, not even a single squeak nor groan.

His lamp, shattered and on the ground.

The black wooden interiors of it, became nothing more than broken pieces,

Reflecting how his just a shattered soul, the lamp fragment scattered around the ground, now he was a, shell of his former self.

"I'm all alone" His lips moved—but still nobody could hear his silent scream

The bright glow of blue, looming from the corner sting his nocturnal eyes.

Even late at night, or at day, Macaque woke up clutching the sheets of his bed. The demon was trembling badly due to the recent nightmares.

He looked like a hot mess, absolutely ugly with red sore eyes and how snot dripped down nostrils.

Macaque, felt alone. Tears pricked at the corner of his eyes— a single eye, the left one was useless, basically blind from that side and served no purpose other than to remind him, of what he lost in the past.

Even with his heightened sense. He could feel there was secretly a presence lingering near, but was too tired to even care anymore.

It was pitiful, how lonely he was, to the point where he didn't mind the stalker's attention, as that was the closet thing to a decent and intimate interaction, he'd ever had.

It was even more pitiful, that he fought to keep his life for centuries and had to be a henchman for some bone demon, to try and continue to live.

Everyone has the right to live, Yet for him.

It was more of a privilege.

It was difficult to keep his life intact, nor to live blissfully

Here he was now, sleeping in the 'comfort' of his own home, and so close to throw away all his hard work, by running away.

He, wrapped his arms around himself, trying to imagine, that someone was holding him and couldn't admit it but desperately clinged, on the thought of wanting to be embrace by someone comforting touch.

He wanted to be given whole hearted attention.

He wished, for someone to love him.

Macaque, stood up from his bed, his coarse hands grasped tightly on the edge of the desk, feeling impelled to stand properly despite knees shaking from the displeasing sensation that washed over him like a gust of strong wind.

Alas, Macaque dropped down on the marble floor like a raggedy ann doll, no longer having any strength to support himself nor call anyone to help, his insecurities knew no one would come for him.

Training, with the constant mindset that asking for help, was a weakness, became troubling at times, or always since it etched deep in is

His breath hitched, now taking sharp breaths before trying to stand up from the ground, but abruptly, a sudden glow of neon blue chains, attacked him.

The chains, restraining him, causing him to him paralysed upon impact.

Similarly in his dreams, bight neon blue eyes loomed over him in the sheer darkness.

"Even when my lady, has no use for you" The chains neared closer to the monkey's neck, as the voice cooed at him, with a sickening intent.

"You, are useful to me" The dark figure whispered, his knuckles caressing the monkey's jawline, the glow of the chains, illuminated his more prominent features, showcasing his sharp smile.

The grin growing wider and wider as he tugged on the chains, pulling Macaque closer

"I hope my lady, will accept this" Just by words alone, It was finally clear to him who this trespasser was.

"I've been such a obedient servant towards her, surely she'll accept, us being bound together!"

Macaque, choked at his words.

When he asked for some company

He didn't mean this.

The chains, moved around his body, like snakes, slithering around his skin.

Almost suffocating him.

It took a toll on him and lost himself to the state on unconscious. The last thing he witness was dark blobs clouded his vision before letting slumber take over him

"She might even call it, destiny?" The masculine figure, giggled like a child that was given their precious treats— their precious hard cold treats.

"Could you image that?" Muttering, the bone demon's voice was tinted with joy and swiftly took the overly long coat from his own body, then dropped it loosely around his beloved's shoulder

His bright eyes peered at Macaque's sleeping figure for a single moment, expressing regret due to the dried tears, on their cheeks, but he had a hint of impenitence swirled onto it. One would find it possibly difficult to explain the contradicting emotions in his eyes.

Despite how pitiful Macaque's expression was, the Mayor still found a bit of enjoyment to it, instead.

To find someone, so melancholy like the colours of their fur, was difficult.

To find someone, that experienced the same thing as the fiend's past, was close to none.

The bone demon's taste, when it comes to— partners, was unusual and certainly unique, to try and find someone so broken, that would desperately cling at the small ounce of attention.

So easy to wrap his chains around.

Chronically Ill people, online was a common way to find someone close to his distinctive taste, but they all end up, disapointing him, due to their 'vulgar' ways.

But someone like Macaque, that was close to perfect, he was so deprived of affection and he! This town's mayor would give him the affection he needs, little by little.

Lifting him up the ground, the methallic restrains clinking against each other, accompanied by a faint screeching sound.

He carried, him away from the doju, the wide doors open wide, by the gust of harsh wind.

The demonic figure could only hum, a joyous tune— to signify what he'd accomplished.

He shown no sense of morality, nor guilt for his actions, just pure joy! Knowing, that Macaque was finally in his arms, after months, long grueling months of stalking them around the corner.

It was a hush hush secret, but the Mayor, Oh! He was the one that caused the monkey to constantly be in a nightmare lucid state.

Just to make him vulnerable.

"Imagine, You and Me! Intertwined by destiny."

#lego monkie kid #lego monkie king #jttw #mayor lmk #lmk mayor #yandere lego monkie kid #yandere macaque #monkie kid macaque #macaque #mayor x macaque #yandere mayor

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beauleifu · 2 years

Note

could I ask for a mayor x fem reader fluff for a oneshot?

Sure! Roughly 2k word count, hope you like it!

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MAYOR X READER

Lego Monkie Kid

Context: Takes place after Season 3 of LMK, 'cause we never get to see what happened to the Mayor after being captured and shit. You're just a normal person tryna take care of your idiot man <3

TW: Blood cause we cleaning his wounds. Very light mentions tho, and slight language

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

You live a peaceful life.

That being said, there is nothing peaceful about how you're suddenly woken up. The awful crash makes you sit up straight in your bed, staring around with wide eyes. What the hell was that?!

It sounds like it came from the kitchen.

However, that makes no sense, seeing as you live alone and you didn't invite anyone over. No guests, no friends staying the night to escape the chaos of their own lives. It's just you, the city (Megapolis), and your home. Besides, a swift glance at your alarm clock reveals that it's two in the morning, so you conclude that it's a thief who has definitely broken into your house.

No doubt about it.

You're not ready, though!

All your defenses are slipping through your fingers as you hastily - yet quietly - get out of bed, grab your phone, and shuffle towards the door. Heart beating a mile a minute, you crack it open.

The noise definitely came from the kitchen. You hear something again, and this time a cup must've fallen in the sink. A low, muffled curse reaches your ears, and you bite your lip against the panic. If the intruder is in the kitchen, they have access to all the available weapons you own. One wrong move on your part, and you could scare them and incite an unwanted and deadly confrontation.

Should you go back to sleep? Pretend you didn't notice and let the burglar get away with it? It's not like you have any valuables out in the open screaming steal me! I hate it here!

On the other hand, you're not a coward. You live here; it's your responsibility to defend it - and yourself.

Sighing, you stay as quiet as possible and peek into the kitchen. There are no lights to supply you with any view, but turning on your flashlight would only alert the intruder to your presence.

They're literally in the next room over.

Suddenly, you feel like the intruder; creeping up on someone unknowingly. Not a fun feeling.

Crouching by the corner that separates the kitchen from the next room, you watch the person make their way blindly around, swinging open cabinets, tugging drawers open, all in search of something. It's difficult to make out their frame from the shadows, but from their movements it looks like they're limping. You could be wrong, though.

"Damn. . . . Now where did she say the rags were . . ?"

A honeyed, baritone voice reaches your ears, a soft mumble that should've provoked some sort of panic, but you recognize it almost immediately.

The Mayor.

He's here? Is that really him??

Fumbling for your phone, you straighten and turn the flashlight on, beaming it onto the figure in the kitchen. oh, gosh.

Tall, battered, and bleeding - but definitely your Mayor. His attire is torn in some places, the pinstripe suit giving way to a light blue undershirt. His collar is undone and his hunched frame is decorated with cuts and bruises - too many to count, and too many to keep you from worrying.

The Mayor spins around, wobbling as he attempts to right himself, one hand tightly gripping the counter. "Wha- . . . Ah. Did I wake you?"

You stare, open-mouthed. This is probably the weirdest thing you've witness all year. Your idiot, the high-and-mighty henchman to the one and only Lady Bone Demon, has deemed it perfectly fine to be in your kitchen unannounced at 2 a.m., looking like absolute shit, and all he does is ask if he woke you up?

The hell??

"What the fuck are you doing here?!" "You whisper-yell.

There's something in the bone demon's grip; he suddenly holds it up in one bloodied hand for emphasis, revealing white bandages. "I'm assessing my wounds. Do you keep any rags in your kitchen, by chance?"

Holy shit. One hand goes to grip your head while other still maintains a rather shaky grip on your phone. "Uh . . . yeah . . ? Yeah. Gimme a second," you say, clearing your throat. There's no reasoning with this lunatic, however much he's grown on you. Sauntering up to one of the kitchen drawers, you pull it open and take out a random towel and continue; "You don't have to use a rag, y'know. I'm not an expert, but I'm sure it would only make it worse . . ?"

Perhaps it wouldn't, though. Considering how your idiot is a demon and probably heals in unnatural ways.

"Thank you," the Mayor says, half sighing.

Spinning on heel, you wield the towel like a weapon. "Okay. Now tell me what the fuck is going on. Why are you here??"

He simply stares at you with a somewhat strained grin. It's not the one you're used to; peaceful, bright, wide. Sometimes he'd smile softly, and that's what makes the butterflies erupt within you. But this smile is different. It's forced, and you can't understand why the Mayor is still trying to smile despite being in pain.

With a sigh, you shake your head. "All right, forget the questions. Just . . . are you okay?"

The demon blinks slowly at you, eyes white and blank. "Yes."

"Oh. Gotcha. Um, you wanna take care of all . . . this-" You gesture halfheartedly you the Mayor's wounds, then point to the kitchen table; "somewhere more comfortable?"

"That would be preferable."

Okay.

All right.

You can do this. As you mentally harden yourself, the Mayor takes a seat on one of the chairs, unrolling a bit of the bandages in preparation. The numerous cuts on his body is alarming, and your hands tremble slightly as you wet the towel. Without another word, you drop the item on the table and step back, awkwardly shoving your hands into your pockets. The Mayor's smile softens a tad as be begins addressing his wounds, seemingly too focused to offer his usual.

There's no more need for you, apparently.

You can go right back to bed.

But your feet are glued to the floor, anchored by a feeling you've been desperately trying to suppress the second you realized the entity in your kitchen was someone you know and trust.

So now, you just look stupid standing awkwardly in your pajamas.

The Mayor's white eyes glance up at you, curiosity glowing in their depths. You've come to recognize the faint glimmers of emotions your idiot expresses over time, but it wasn't easy at first. The Mayor was a blank slate until you came to know him better.

A fond and knowing smile lights his face. "I assume you wish you assist, my dear?"

Butterflies.

You nod hurriedly, taking a seat beside the Mayor. "I-I'm no expert, but if there's something you can't reach I can totally help."

"That would be lovely," the Mayor hums, shifting to face you and offering you the damp towel. Amusement enters his voice. "Why don't we make a deal? You help me take care of my little dilemma, and I shall answer any questions you may have."

"Did you assume I have questions, or are you just a sucker for storytelling?" You deadpan.

Your friend merely smiles. With a huff, you take the towel and gently take his arm in your hands. Trying to be as methodic as possible, you clear his arm of all the dried blood, grimacing at all the bruises and cuts. Whenever you catch the Mayor flinch the tiniest bit you're apologizing so fast it should be added to the book of world records. However, he always reassures you with a kind smile and a soft voice that pain is inevitable when treating wounds. That you're doing a wonderful job helping him, and he's very thankful you've taken his unexpected and sudden visit so well.

Eyes on the task at hand, you mumble out your question. "So . . . so what fresh hell did you crawl out of before breaking into my kitchen?"

"I had an unfortunate quarrel with an enemy of my mistress," the Mayor answers smoothly, eyes on you instead of his arm. "The Monkey King made an attempt to sway her from her destiny, and it was my mission to deter him."

Interesting.

There's something harsh and full of venom in the way he says Monkey King. You ignore it. "And you lost, didn't you?"

He catches the slight tease in your voice, and his suspicion only increases when you look up with a mischievous grin. The Mayor snorts, casting his gaze to the side, but he's unable to hold back a grudging smile. "Hmm. What makes you think that, my dear?"

"Oh, I dunno," you say, taking the bandages and wrapping his arm. "Maybe because you snuck into my home with your tail between your legs."

"I possess no tail whatsoever."

"You're a demon, so why not? And I was just relating what you did to a scared puppy."

The Mayor lets out a long, thoughtful hum, but perhaps he only did so to make you stop talking. You laugh, grinning stupidly at him as he rests his chin on the back of his hand. As you take his other arm for a proper check-up, his lips curl into a smirk, eyebrows high and eyes half-lidded. Damnit, you know that look very well. "I advise you to choose your next words very carefully, love."

"I'm just saying!" You say, chuckling. With one hand, you brush his unkept hair to the side and out of his eyes. "Old Monkey Man must've rocked you up pretty hard, huh? You look like shit."

He grimaces. "Yeees, I'd much rather have visited in something more presentable, though. My apologies."

You blink. What.

A dangerous entity, slave to an even more powerful bone demon, is apologizing to you - you, of all people. What a sight. Smiling softly, you lock eyes with him and hum. "D'awww, you feel bad for looking like hell on earth in front of me? I'm honored."

"So you are," the Mayor says sneakily, glancing at your fingers in his hair.

Quickly, you drop your hand - only for him to seize it gently and bring it to his lips, where he presses a small kiss to the back of your hand. Your eyes go wide, butterflies erupting in your stomach.

Uh.

Damnit.

He's adorable.

"I-Is this how you normally thank people?" You stutter.

His eyes flick up as he lets go of you, a smirk twisting his mouth when he leans back. "You're a special case, sweetheart."

"Huh. Okay. Are you, um . . ." You avert your gaze, hyper-focused on patching a cut on his cheek. There's just one question you're dying to ask, but all the possible answers are dreadfully scary. Clearing your throat, you decide to get it over with. "You wanna stay the night?"

A beat. The Mayor's expression is fond. "Is this how you normally help people?"

"Ha!" Since your hands are already working on his face, you decide to pinch his cheek lightly. The demon's smirk merely widens, a deep, rumbling chuckle sounding from his chest. You snort, trying to maintain any sort of dignity. "Yes or no, idiot."

One of his hands goes to rest over yours on his face. His eyes are glazed over, smile once again relaxed and sappy. "Of course, my lady."

Anyone would say the Mayor looks absolutely lovestruck.

Unfortunately, you don't realize it until you're buried in the coolness of his arms, swathed in blankets on your bed as you listen to his breathing slow. He doesn't require sleep, but is happy to help you to do so, and after you'd finished bandaging him up, he'd finished telling his tale of woe, and you did exactly the things he liked; played with his hair, offered to sleep in your bed, and begged him to disassociate himself with LBD.

Hopefully this time around, he'll listen.

He's a keeper.

#lmk #lego monkie kid #lmk story #lmk mayor #Mayor x reader #fluff #blood/injury #yes your honor they're in love #oneshot #2 am talks #so much fluff #mayor is a sappy poet who doesnt write poety he just stares at you #like he thinks he's communicated but no #he just comes off as creepy #but we love him #thanks for the ask!#not me staying up til 2am to write this lol

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melodyschaos · 1 year

Note

😍😍😍

I read the last polyweb, I want to order more of this scrubdilishys meal (specifically the reader talking about trauma like it's normal) of course, only if you want to and have time THANK YOU!!

TW: Trauma Discussions (Light to Medium), Some Angst, Gore Mention, Mention of Parental Abuse, Death Mention A/N: I am so glad you guys love the Sapphire Polyweb! I hope this becomes like The Thing for my blog I would love that- anyways we're trying color fonts now I'm feelin' creative

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Another day, another sleepover in Y/N's house. Things had gone better than expected, Huntsman hadn't even bitten Syntax, even when he got hit with three red shells in a row during Mario Kart! Everyone had changed into their sleep-wear (which was very weird to see the Mayor in, though he only wore a very basic set of dark blue flannel pajamas. They were all stuck in that space where they ought to be sleeping but were talking instead. Syntax had lifted his phone to check something but let out a disgruntled huff before shoving it back in his pant pocket. Y/N rolled over from their spot on the floor of their massive pillow fort and asked what's wrong.

"Father's Day approaches and annoying e-mails are barraging me about buying a set of tools. If I had a father I am certain he would not care for a tool belt."

Y/N rolled on their stomach and propped themselves up on an elbow. "What do you mean? Don't...you don't know your dad?"

In the darkness Syntax sighed. "Let me put it in simple terms: as far as anyone in the world is concerned, I am an orphan, for I have no worthy father."

He felt Y/N's hand slip into his own. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be, it's a thing of the past. I prefer to try and forget, but...it's rather difficult during the holidays."

They sat there holding hands before Y/N spoke again to the oddly quiet others, "Hey...come to think of it, Hunter, Goliath, Queenie, do you guys have moms or dads?"

The Spider Queen answered first after a sizeable silence. "Let's just say a Queen has no need for parents. I had sisters, though. Seven. But...let's just say they went the way of the birds."

"What?? I never heard about this, Queenie, why didn't you tell me?" Y/N was sitting up now and had turned on the lamp that had been placed in the floor of the fort.

The Spider Queen looked oddly grim-faced. Her silky black hair was down, and she wore a rather fancy black nightrobe over a long nightgown. "I don't like talkin' about it."

"Wait-" Now Goliath was sitting up (though he was hunched a bit so as not to disrupt the blanket roof of the fort. "My Queen, if you have sisters, why aren't they here?"

Huntsman was up now too, though he used a fist to hit the side of Goliath's arm. It obviously didn't hurt him but the intent was still there. "She just said she doesn't like talking about it, pea brain."

Ignoring the bickering, Y/N released Syntax's hand and scooted over to the Queen. "You can tell me, Queenie, if you want to."

The Spider Queen looked even more uncomfortable as she glanced at her three spider underlings. Owing to her pride, she never liked feeling vulnerable normally...but she exhaled through her nose. "Just this once. When I was a spiderling I was the youngest of my sisters. Born the last. I wanted to go out there, to make somethin' of myself instead of sittin' around trappin' random passerby. So one day when I was sixteen I packed up a few things and set out to get real-world experience. A few years passed, and I was gainin' myself some new infernal powers. I'd even begun to further transform." She gestured to her purple skin and green eyes. The Queen looked distressed as if she didn't want to continue...

But in an surprising move, Huntsman went to sit next to her and took one of her hands. He wasn't looking at her as if wanting to let her have the privacy of tears threatening to spill over her lime eyes. The gentle move from her most rambunctious subject seemed to help as the Queen continued, "I...I came home to find them all...pulverized. I- I couldn't tell which was which-" Here she stopped, covering her face with her free hand, allowing a few sobs to escape.

Syntax had fully sat up now. He and Goliath looked at each other, at a loss until Y/N moved to hug their Queen, placing their arms around her shoulders. Slowly, Goliath moved behind the Queen to gently hug her as well. Syntax made his way over to her unoccupied side. Emotions were never his strong suit, much less comforting someone with such a heavy subject. After hesitating, he put his hand on the Queen's shoulder.

After a few minutes she took a deep breath and lifted her head, clearing away the tears. She reached out her arms to hug both Syntax and Huntsman to her sides and rested her head back on Goliath's massive chest as a pillow. They sat there, comforting one another in an odd way.

They all jumped a mile when the Mayor suddenly lifted the blanket that hung over the fort's entrance. No one had heard him arrive, but this time his ever-present smile seemed more...sympathetic, somehow. He crawled in and set down a box of soft brownies. "I did not want to interrupt, but something told me we could use these."

With nerves calmed, the group eventually dug in. It occurred to Y/N to ask Goliath and Huntsman about their fathers, but Huntsman only shrugged and said, "Technically Syntax is our father. He used the Queen's venom and artificial masculine DNA to basically speed-grow us. Kinda like plants."

Goliath, who had five brownies in one large hand, huffed. "He won't let me call him dad, though."

Syntax scowled at him. "That is because I am not your father, if I were I would have had to use my own DNA. Since I did not I prefer to think of myself as your manufacturer or engineer."

Huntsman let out a cough that sounded suspiciously like "Doofus"

Anticipating the question, the Mayor spoke to Y/N as they turned their head to him. "A decent enough man as fathers go, and my mother as well. We were never too close, but we were happy. Now then..." He stood and began gathering the garbage to throw out. "As it is well past 3 AM I suggest we all head to sleep."

When he returned, the light was out and everyone was curled up together this time with the Spider Queen in the center, as if she were the center of their spider web of cuddles. There was an odd feeling as they all dozed off...a renewed closeness born from revealing (even if only by mention) secret pains of the heart and being met with comfort and companionship.

#tw trauma #lmk #legomonkiekid #lmk sapphire polyweb x reader #lmk sapphire polyweb #lmk x reader #lmk x reader polygamous #lmk spider queen x reader #lmk huntsman x reader #lmk syntax x reader #lmk goliath x reader #lmk mayor x reader #tw angst #tw gore mention #tw death mention #tw parental abuse

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real-sun-wukong-fan01 · 1 year

Text

Handing random headcanons (tw: it's just about wukong at this point)

- wukong is not a full monkey. His body and behaviors tells him yes, but his anatomy says no. (Stone monkey.)

- he can develop behaviors that are outside from the ones he should have.

- he, over the years, developed different types of behaviors from different types of spieces. He mainly has human behavior, but he also got dragon,pig and fish behavior because of his companions, even if minor.

- he gets petting aggression.

He does get that hormone that makes him aggressive when he sees something cute to balance things out, but he also bites when he gets stroked too many times like sometimes cats do.

- he has no collarbone, just like cats. He has no bones, he's a rock! He can pass through spaces if his head fits. His body is mostly fur anyway.

- he's just, bigger. He's big. He's a big boy.

He's bigger than monkeys, they can fit in his palm even though he's considered small between demons.

- talking about demons, macaque is one.

In fact, he used to be bigger and taller than wukong, as demons are generally just big sized, but then things switched up when macaque died. Because one grew and the other didn't of course.

- Wukong often mimics sounds he hears, like a vocal stim. That's why he started doing "mrrp" sounds and more.

- he hates water because he knows he's weak with it, he can't swim. And plus it makes him even more heavy, he hates wet fur.

- demons comes in all colors and shapes, anything considered unique and out of the norm, is a demon. Stone monkeys are demons.

- the mayor was once a human who served the lady bone demon, but as a human, death comes. And quickly too.

The lady bone demon didn't wanna loose such loyal follower, so she brought him back alive. turning him into a real puppet, guiding his own dead body.

- monkeys are both predators and preys, they are considered both (just nature facts.)

- wukong is biologically female, he identifies as whatever people perceive him, mostly as male. But he's kinda every gender at once.

- he doesn't have a "real voice", his voice changes all the time. A small effect of him shapeshifting a lot during jttw.

- whenever wukong gets angry, but really angry, his hair and tail become fire, sometimes his hair explode, burning everything around him (to about 13 feet = 3-4 meters.).

- if it wasn't for his wonderful vision (and true vision), he would have needed glasses since the furnace.

- wukong likes to eat anything, and can eat anything, just with a limit.

Too much sugar makes him sick (unlike monkeys that directly gives them diabetes.)

Too much meat makes him sick (can't eat it.) But it only counts on meat like pork, steak, not small things. (Like birds, anything out of the monkey diet.)

The only thing he can eat generally is fruits and vegetables, as it's around monkeys diets.

But too much food in general consists in him getting sleepy or weak because his body cannot digest it immediately like he normally does (he works like a machine, with tar and magic, he does not have organs.)

- wukong started eating a lot because of bajie (he missed bajie, so to remember him he started doing some bajie did a lot : eat.), Turning into his days go from eat and sleep until he started hibernating. (This went one for 500 years.)

It is not unhealthy, just annoying for such an energetic monkey like wukong, he likes moving but can't because he's tired.

Did he stop? No, still does it.

Depressione saldy helped a lot in this behavior.

- wukong is super flexible, with no bones he can do whatever with his body, even detach parts.

- he needs tar and magic to survive. If one of the two are missing, he'll break in pieces like a statue and die.

- he doesn't necessarily need to breathe, but he needs to get the smoke, that gets created after eating, out somehow. (The tar burns the food, creating energy, like a machine.)

- if he smoked it wouldn't really change a thing, it would just build more smoke in his body. Which he needs to get out.

- his cloud can represent his emotions, if he's sad and on his cloud, he would make his cloud rain and so on. ( @astronnova << headcanon I'm stealing from <33)

- he's probably as big as mandrills. ( The biggest type of monkeys )

- he hates hot tea. Anything hot. But he loves the cold counterparts. Cold tea? Iced coffee? His favorite thing.

- if it wasn't for the fact he's the son of the sun (who has firey hair.), He would look like a Siamese. But because of his parents, his fur changed to be unique and strange.

(golden fur, turns into fire, changes color depending on health ect.)

[ MASTER SWAP AU ONLY. ]

- wukong started trying to kill macaque as revenge, but now does it for fun only. It's thrilling. (He's gone insane y'all, forgive him.)

#lego monkie kid headcanon #stone monkeys headcanons #sun wukong #lego monkie kid #monkey king #journey to the west #jttw #monkie kid #lego sun wukong #sun wukong lmk #lmk monkey king #lmk sun wukong #jttw sun wukong #jttw monkey king #the mayor and macaque are mentioned!!#prepared this #this morning

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steam-powered-chaos · 8 months

Text

Chapter 5 (Evil! The Jon au)

[This fic is a collaborative effort between myself and @p2ii! Go give them some love!]

[Tw for death, murder, trauma and other nasties]

The rest of the bots has figured it out, arming themselves to find their siblings and get whatever was corrputing The Jon, because clearly he was too sweet to harm anyone of his own accord, to leave, and they headed to Biscuit Town in a makeshift portal, where The Puppeteer was practicing with his newest, and best puppet yet as Hatchworth begged for mercy, as his joints were flicked and stretched much further than how they were supposed to go. His body snapped and cracked under the pressure.

Hatchworth danced, slowly making him more and more dizzy with each spin, until the double doors of the mayors office were slammed open. The Puppeteer spun on his heel and grinned at the horrified expressions on his former siblings’ faces. He snapped his fingers and Hatchworth slumped, his face a mask of terror. Rabbit started forwards, frying pan raised to strike her brother, and The Puppeteer slipped away nimbly, stepping aside and made an attempt to slip her leg out from under her. He failed miserably, due to the fact that robots are much stronger than humans. His arms were seized by Rabbit and Upgrade, whilst Zer0 and The Spine got to work on setting Hatchworth free.

He took his chance, tying a ribbon around one of Rabbit’s arms, all control being lost in her right side and she half slumped, struggling to stand. Upgrade quickly let go to help her. And then The Puppeteer was silenced, hit over the head hard enough to send him into stasis. Hatchworth made a portal back home, and they dragged him with them, relieved it was finally, relatively over, leaving the corpses abandoned to be cleaned up later.

#spg #steam powered giraffe #the jon #hatchworth #rabbit spg #the spine #upgrade spg #evil! The Jon au #The Puppeteer #Tw violence #Tw torture

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mothgodofchaos · 2 years

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Could be angsty Imagine request for Darkiplier and the reader being stuck inside due to a raging snowstorm outside reader's place? Maybe they has a lil camping stove for hot drinks and food and plenty of blankets and things should be fine ( but Dark keeps getting flashes of the DA as reader does things that they did one time Damien and the DA were stuck in the office due to a snowstorm and angst! or maybe it just strikes a fond cord in Dark and it's cute and fluffy. Completely up to you! )

Stranded

I really like this request! Certainly took it in more of a fluffy direction than I intended, but I think people will still enjoy it.

Darkiplier x GN!Reader, TW: mention of death, fire Words: 1076

It was cold in your cabin, but you insisted to Dark that a vacation away from the manor would be good for both of you, but especially him. You wanted him to actually enjoy his vacation, and apparently the snowstorm outside was insistent on the both of you staying. Dark wasn’t in his normal suit, instead opting for more of a layered sweater look, a collared shirt underneath his dark blue crewneck. You could tell he didn’t wear this kind of look often, but he looked, almost softer? The edge that he normally looks like he’s on is gone, like he’s finally allowing himself to be comfortable. His posture has also changed, shoulders more relaxed, and his smile seems a bit more genuine.

To him, he viewed you as his entire world. As much as he knew he would have to get done when he got back to the manor, a weekend away in the woods would do him some good. What he wasn’t expecting was to be reminded of your past life so much. When he had pulled you from that mirror, you were different, and it took much repairing on both of your parts to come back to the place you started. His eyes followed you as you put a kettle on top of the wood fire stove that he was keeping up. The glow of the fire flickered across the cabin, casting moving shadows that almost made it look like the two of you were dancing.

He had brought the record player, setting it in the corner. For now, the only background noise remained to be the crackle of the fire, but his heart sung as he watched you move. When you both had been younger, different people, yet still the same, you would come up to his cabin in the winter time. He looked forward to it, just the two of you, the one vacation he always made sure to take time off for ahead of time. At first when you created the tradition, you tried to plan things like skiing and snowboarding, but you both soon came to realize that you simply just enjoyed each others’ company, and began just staying in the cabin for the majority of it.

Bright winter mornings on the front porch over peppermint tea, cuddling on the couch by the fire, watching a movie on the projector that he always brought, watching him chop wood out back while you prepped dinner. It was homey, domestic, something that you both equally craved, but couldn’t have due to the nature of your jobs.

You had both joked about quitting your jobs and dropping off the face of the Earth just to hide up in the cabin, but neither of you had the heart to leave the city in disrepair and possible turmoil if you did. And then that fateful night, full of death, betrayal, and heartbreak. You both left anyways, but not of your own accord. Both victims of the circumstances that left you both hurting each other in the process. The ring you now wear is a testament to that time, when he had planned on surprising you on that fateful night. There was supposed to be a beautiful sky that evening, not that he would’ve been looking anywhere but at you.

Now you’re both shells of the people you once used to be, the mayor and district attorney long forgotten to the obituaries column of a hundred year old newspaper. His aura glowed blue, his sister finally resting. It was calm, the ringing that normally followed him calmed, adding into the ambiance of the setting if it was even there at all. The creaking of snow on the roof outside, the crackling of the wood, the near silent hum of the song you were singing to yourself. It was a perfect orchestration just for him, just here, just with you.

But nothing could bring back those days at the old cabin, nothing could bring back the way things had been, nothing could bring back your friends and loved ones that you lost on that night. So you had both promised each other that you’d make new memories. Above the mantel hung photographs, the original ones that he had held onto, rescued from that manor. Repaired, restored, the smiling faces looking back at you. His sister’s wedding day, his election day, William’s promotion to colonel, Mark’s premiere for his breakout role. You were all there, supportive, loving.

That manor drove you all apart. Slowly corrupting Mark, and eventually the rest of you. Wilford knew not of his previous life, Damien and Celine forced to cohabitate for the rest of their lives, your skin cracked like the mirror you were left in. Where Mark was, you didn’t even know anymore. You hoped that the friend and confidant you once knew is still in there, the one who you knew never wanted to hurt any of you in the first place. You knew what the entity could do to all of you, and you were all living examples of the frankenstein ways of this dark force.

The kettle finished and you pulled out the tea cups. A light blue one with a white rose for him, and a gold one with a red rose for you. Although the colors were more up Mark’s alley, something about it felt right. You had always been the more loud and fanciful of the two of you, even with his previous job being the mayor. Sure he had to go to these parties, but you were the one that kept him from getting bored and weary. He looked forward to making you laugh as he spoke in circles with donors and backers, that smile was all he ever wanted to see.

You snuggled in next to him as you blew on your tea, him waiting for his to cool on the coffee table as the record player started up. You rested your head on his shoulder, his hand rubbing your arm as it wrapped around your shoulders. Your previous life ended one hundred years ago, your second life was those hundred years of waiting apart. But this new life that you were creating together, that would surely last a lifetime. His other hand held your free one, matching rings shining in the firelight together as you got cozy under the blanket.

Life is ours to choose, and your choice was each other. Forever.

#darkiplier #dark #markiplier egos #wkm darkiplier #wkm dark #darkiplier x reader #dark x reader #wkm darkiplier x reader #wkm dark x reader #gn!reader #chaoswrites #TW: death mention #TW: fire #chaosanswers #midnight mint

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whatbecomesofthebrokenheartedfic · 7 months

Text

What Becomes of the Brokenhearted

Fandom: Fallout 4

Rating: Mature

Relationships: Female Sole Survivor/Nick Valentine, Sole Survivor & Piper Wright, Nick Valentine & Piper Wright

Additional tags: friends to lovers, slow burn, found family, canon divergence

Summary: Nora wakes up two hundred years in the future after losing her husband, her family, her whole world. In Diamond City, she thinks she may have found the one man in the wasteland who can help save her son, the only part of her life before the war she has left.

TW: discussion and representation of depression, anxiety, and suicidal ideation. Eventual gore and body horror. Eventual smut.

00. Blue Prelude [1/2]

[> Next] [read on AO3]

Once they were back inside Diamond City Security’s patrol perimeter, Nick pulled his matchbook and cigarette pack from his pocket. They could afford to be a little distracted now that they were relatively safe—and he’d been anticipating that for the last three days, ever since he’d smoked the pack down to the last cig.

“You mind?” he asked with a sidelong glance at Piper, tucking the filter between his lips. She never did, but he always asked anyway.

She waved his words away as he struck a match against the palm of his right hand and cupped the delicate little flame at the end against the cold, humid breeze that whistled down Lansdowne Street. It was looking like rain, and had been since the two of them had crawled out of a manhole on the other side of the Commons an hour ago. Hopefully the weather’d have the decency to let them get back inside the city before dumping something acidic or radioactive on their heads, but Nick wasn’t willing to bet on it.

Piper cocked her head at him as he returned the matchbook and now-empty pack to his pocket. “You’re not gonna share, huh?”

“Not while you’ve got lungs to ruin,” Nick replied.

She scoffed halfheartedly at him. “I should have left you locked up in that office.”

Nick chuckled. God, but it was good to be headed home. “Anything new around here since I’ve been gone?” Nick asked, waving to the guard with his free hand as they rounded the corner onto Brookline and came within sight of the next security checkpoint. Unless the guard at the post was brand new, Nick would be recognized—he was hard to mistake for anybody else, even at a distance. Sometimes, like now, it wasn’t a bad thing—couldn’t complain about not being taken for a raider and shot at.

Piper was easily recognizable too, for that matter, in her bright red coat. Heh. Diamond City’s own dynamic duo of fashion disasters.

Piper’s response to his question was just a hair too slow, and he caught the edge of a grimace as he looked at her again. She made a noncommittal noise, which in Piper-speak translated to a “Yes, but I’m not going to talk about it right now,” maybe with a side order of “Yes, and you’re not going to like it.”

Well, damn. A guy gets locked in an office for two weeks and the world has the nerve to go on without him. Piper did that thing with her hands where she twisted the fingers of one in the palm of the other and then switched. That side order might actually be a full entrée. Whatever it was, it had her in knots. Silence from Piper was just as loud as anything she shouted at the mayor about.

“Alright, hold up,” the checkpoint guard said as they approached the blockade, holding up a hand, and then— “Wait a second. Nicky Valentine?”

“The one and only,” Nick said without a hint of irony.

“Damn,” the guard said, drawing the word out like he was genuinely a little surprised. Nick didn’t know his name; maybe if he saw the man’s face, but the umpire helmet obscured any distinguishing features except for his voice, which Nick didn’t recognize. “Word around town was you were dead. Or, uh—you know, whatever.”

A fair portion of his good mood curled up and died right there on the cracked pavement. Yeah, whatever, because things that aren’t really alive can’t really die now, can they? Nick sighed—or rather, he made a noise that sounded like a sigh even though he didn’t have lungs, or functioning vocal cords, and in the end what the hell difference did it make?

Really was no place like Diamond City.

“Not yet,” Nick replied, smiling thinly.

“Are we good to go, then?” Piper cocked her hip, and her head, and an eyebrow to boot, and Nick’s smile twitched towards genuine. Never missed a change in tone, that one.

The guard stared at her for a heartbeat, and then turned deliberately back towards the corner they’d just come around, every bit a dismissal as his next words. “Yeah, go on.”

“Much obliged,” Nick said, touching the brim of his hat. “Stay safe out here.”

He didn’t get a response, and Piper wasted no time rolling her eyes and stalking around the barricade. Nick had to jog three strides to catch up with her, and he kept his mouth shut as she sighed through gritted teeth, as the guard’s radio crackled with static, and Boston’s old metal bones groaned around them.

As they turned onto Jersey, Nick cast another look at Piper out of the corner of his eye. Her lips were pursed, her brow furrowed. “Not the warmest welcome I’ve ever had,” he said lightly.

Piper blew out another sigh, tired instead of irritated this time, and the hard line of her shoulders eased just a bit. “Well, that’s whatcha get for hanging around with Diamond City’s own social pariah.”

“Couldn’t ask for better company,” Nick said with feeling.

She cringed, freckled nose wrinkling. Not ready yet, then. That was alright. They’d have time now that he wasn’t stuck going stir crazy in the vault Overseer’s office. No need to push the issue.

Nick flicked ash from the end of his cigarette. “How’s Ellie been holding up?”

“About as well as you’d expect,” Piper said. “Last time I saw her she was holding one of your ties and crying into a photo album.”

Now there was a heartbreaking mental image. He’d have to find a way to make it up to her. Again. “Poor gal. Not gonna let me leave town again for a month, is she?”

“I’m not either,” Piper said. “In fact—”

A single loud clang of metal—distinct from the ever-present, bassline groan of skyscrapers, and instantly recognizable to any resident of Diamond City—sent a flock of large black birds erupting from the top of the Wall and wheeling across the cloud-bruised sky. The sound was followed by the rapid click-click-click of a chain unwinding.

Shit. Nick looked at Piper, snuffed the cigarette in the palm of his right hand, and tucked the butt in his pocket.

“That’s the gate,” Piper said as he drew his revolver. “It’s not even—oh, hell.”

Nick bolted toward the Wall, Piper at his heels, and jumped and then ducked below the low barricade that ran along the sidewalk parallel to it. Piper swore quietly from behind him and leather scraped as her coat caught on something, but then she was right there beside him, her own pistol in hand and her shoulder pressed up against his.

“Jeez, could you not sprint straight toward danger?” She elbowed him, but not hard. “This is exactly the sort of thing that got you whacked unconscious by a crazy broad with a baseball bat,” she hissed.

“See anything?” he asked, checking the way they’d been walking, but the street was just as empty as it had been a moment ago. He craned his neck to see past Piper, who was looking down her sights the way they’d come, but there was no sign of anything out of the ordinary there, either.

“Nothing,” she said.

A deep boom echoed through the streets as the city gate finished its descent. A dog barked from somewhere in the direction of the courtyard. The wind sighed softly, Piper panted beside him, and his coolant pump thumped in his chest.

But, other than that, nothing. No gunfire, no shouting. What the hell?

Piper was peering at him, brow scrunched in the same way his was. Nick gestured for her to follow and crouch-walked his way further south along the barrier, towards the security checkpoint that spanned the last few feet of Jersey before the courtyard.

Nick recognized the broad build of the guard standing—standing, casually, like there was nothing wrong—atop the barricade, and he frowned.

“Hey, Hank!” he called, waving and leaning around the end of the barrier. The guard jumped at the sudden sound. “Where’s the trouble?”

Hank hesitated for just a second, evidently processing—Nick Valentine, we thought you were dead, or whatever—and then lowered his half-raised rifle, shoulders relaxing marginally along with it.

“You can put the piece away, Nicky,” Hank said, nodding toward the two of them. “The trouble’s standing right next to you.”

Confusion wrinkled Piper’s nose, followed up almost immediately by fury. She stood straight up out of cover, one fist balled at her side and the other squeezed around her pistol’s grip.

“That rat bastard,” she ground out.

“Pipes—” Nick stood, reaching out to take her arm, but she was already shoving her pistol back in its holster and stepping past him.

“I’ve had it this time, Nicky!” she snapped, taking long strides that turned into a run as she passed under the checkpoint. Nick hurried to follow her.

The courtyard looked the way it always did on an average day in Diamond City, except for the gate being down before it got too dark to see, and the edge of anticipation in the air. Wagons and pack brahmin ringed the weathered old statue in the center of the open space, and caravanners shifted nervously around them, weapons at the ready. There was Cricket, with her distinct yellow headscarf and pink eyeshadow Nick could see even from here, one of the Vault 81 runners, a handful of dogs, and even one of those ghoul horses from out west past the Glowing Sea.

Piper ignored it all, striding straight up to the intercom and slapping the call button with more force than was strictly necessary. “Danny Sullivan, you open this gate right now!”

Danny’s voice, crackling over the speaker, was strained. “I got orders not to let you in, Ms Piper.”

“Oh, screw your orders!”

“Mayor McDonough’s really steamed this time. I’m sorry; I’m just doing my job.”

“Just doing your job?” Piper laughed, high and shaky.

The mayor, huh? No doubt the rat bastard in question, and no wonder Piper was so upset. She’d been pressuring McDonough about security’s refusal to investigate missing persons for nearly a year now, and—

Oh god. Hopefully things hadn’t come to a head since he’d been missing, though that would be one hell of a coincidence—

“Protecting Diamond City means keeping me out, is that it?” Nick leaned back to dodge one of the hands she waved for emphasis. Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of the crowd that had been milling around the courtyard beginning to coalesce into a half-circle a few feet behind where he and Piper stood, no doubt drawn by her volume.

“Oh, look, it’s the scary reporter! Boo!”

“Piper,” Nick said lowly.

“Ms Wright,” Hank said from her other side. He’d come down the checkpoint steps by the intercom, and moved to put a hand on Piper’s shoulder, but she swatted it away.

“I live here! You can’t just—” She curled her hands, like she had them on Danny’s shoulders and she was shaking him. “—lock me out!”

Nick stepped forward, up beside her, and leaned into the intercom. “Hey there, Danny,” he said. “What seems to be the trouble?”

“Is that Detective Valentine? Jeez, what happened to you? It’s been weeks.”

“Ran into some trouble on a case outside of Goodneighbor,” Nick replied. Though it was more like trouble ran into him, multiple times, at high velocity, and was made from hickory. Darla would’ve made Moe Cronin proud with that swing of hers. “Piper here pulled me out of it. Woulda been scrap metal without her help. You mind filling me in on what’s going on?”

“She didn’t tell you?”

Piper hissed a sigh through clenched teeth and met Nick’s eyes, shaking her head subtly. Whatever it was, they could talk about it later. Right now they needed to convince Danny to open the gate.

“Well, we’ve been a little occupied trying to get back to the city in one piece,” Nick said neutrally. “So we haven’t had too much time to chat about any new goings on.” He found an angle and went with it: “But it sure looks like things have been busy around here. Lotsa caravans parked out front today. Simon handing out free chems in there, or what?”

“We’re all just standing out here in the open,” Piper snapped, picking up on it immediately. “Not really a great way to bring in business! Do you want to be the one explaining to Crazy Myrna why she’s missing out on all this stock?”

From behind them, there was a chorus of murmured agreement from the caravanners. For once it sounded like the two of them might be on the side of the popular opinion.

Danny exhaled a drawn-out, staticky sigh. “Okay, listen, the whole city’s—”

Piper wasn’t having it. She leaned closer to the speaker, voice dropping in pitch and trembling with pent-up emotion. “This is wrong and you know it, Danny!”

“Jeez, alright!” There was a beat of silence on the other end of the speaker. “Alright. No need to make it personal. Give me a minute.”

Some mechanism powered up within the Wall, and the winding chain began clicking again. The crowd that had gathered behind them began to shuffle back to life.

Piper’s hands trembled the same way her voice did. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes damp with angry tears. “Thank you.”

Hank started to lift his hand like he was going to put it on Piper’s shoulder, and then thought better of it. “Ms Wright, listen—”

Piper pointed a finger in his face. “Fuck off.”

Hank held his hands up in surrender, grumbling under his breath as he turned and headed back to his post on top of the barricade. Piper closed her eyes, clasped her hands behind her head, and blew out a long breath.

Crisis averted—for now. The matter of what new beef was going on between Pipes and the mayor would be something he’d have to dig into, but it could wait until after they’d gotten settled. He owed Ellie—well, he owed Ellie a lot, but after the last two weeks he owed her more than usual. If cases hadn’t been piling up in his absence, maybe the three of them and Nat could take the day to do something relaxing.

Piper let her hands fall back to her side, and Nick reached out to touch her arm briefly. She managed a small smile. Whatever had gone down while he was away was clearly bad—but nothing they couldn’t handle together. Hopefully.

Something cold and damp touched the seam on the outside of his left hand and Nick nearly jumped out of what skin he had left.

He looked down to see a German Shepherd staring up at him with big brown eyes. Its tail wagged, its tongue lolled, and it shifted from paw to paw in doggy excitement.

“Dogmeat,” Nick said, kneeling to scratch behind his ears. Dogmeat woofed in recognition of his name. “Well hey there, fella. Where’d you come from?”

“He’s with me,” a contralto voice said from somewhere over Dogmeat’s head, and Nick looked up to see dirty leather hiking boots and long legs clad in Vault-Tec blue standing about six feet away—it was the runner he’d noticed when he and Piper came into the courtyard.

Yeah, definitely a runner, if the muscular curves of her calves and thighs were any indication. He didn’t let his gaze linger, pulling it up past her charcoal winter coat and dirty fur collar to her coppery, angular face, framed by glossy black fringe. She was looking him over warily, dark eyes narrowed, one hand resting on the barrel of a laser rifle slung on her back, ready to pull it into position. He didn’t take it personally; the folks in 81—at least the ones he knew—were nice enough, but their surface workers tended to be jumpy.

Except now that he was paying attention to her, he could see the number on her collar wasn’t an 81, but a 111.

Huh.

Alright. He knew 81—everyone around here did; it was hard not to know the people supplying you with clean water and real coffee—and he’d had too much time to get familiar with the Overseer’s office of 114. There was a 95 down past Suffolk this side of the Glowing Sea, a 75 in Malden, and that business down in the other DC involved some kid from 101. Maybe 111 was outside of the Commonwealth and that’s why he’d never heard of it, or maybe it just opened up to the surface. 81 had only opened up, what, a decade ago now?

The woman inclined her head at Dogmeat, keeping her gaze just shy of Nick’s. “Do you two know each other?” Her voice was something out of an old pre-War movie, lacking the accent that had two centuries to evolve after the bombs fell. Her teeth were white and almost perfectly straight—not wasteland dental work, for sure. Were freckles normal for a vaultie? He was no expert on human biology, but didn’t you get those from the sun, or could they be genetic?

“Sure, we’ve worked together a time or two,” Nick said, looking back at Dogmeat so he didn’t have to look at her anymore. This was going to be something—he could feel it churning away in his nonexistent gut already. He glanced down at her hands; the right still squeezing the barrel of her rifle, and the left hooked deceptively calmly in her coat pocket. Her short nails were painted with chipped green polish and she had an honest-to-god gold wedding band on her left ring finger.

Hand-me-down, maybe? Who did that anymore?

“I see,” she said, like that was the answer she expected and not a completely absurd exchange. She drummed her fingers on the barrel of the rifle, and then squared her feet like she’d come to a decision. Nick scratched under Dogmeat’s chin, and leaned back as Dogmeat lunged to lick his face.

Then, before he could formulate a reply for her:

“You’re Nick Valentine, yes? The detective?”

Nick paused before looking back up, but she still flinched at the motion—because he was a synth, because she didn’t know him, because this was the surface and he could imagine how frightening that would be to a vault dweller, some combination of the three?

“That’s right,” he said lightly.

She looked at Piper. “And you’re…?”

“Piper Wright, Publick Occurrences,” Piper replied, every bit the professional reporter sniffing out a scoop. No doubt she’d noticed the vault number by now, too.

Recognition raised the woman’s eyebrows slightly. “You work for the newspaper.”

“I run the newspaper,” Piper corrected. “We’re the hard look at the truth. You got a story for me, Blue?”

The woman moved her mouth like she was going to say something, then closed it again and started over. “I—maybe. I’m sorry if this is a bad time,” she said quickly, and then took a steadying breath, and looked Nick right in the eyes. “But I need your help. I’m trying to find a missing person.”

Ah.

Nick gave Dogmeat one last scritch behind the ears, and then stood slowly. The woman didn’t flinch this time, but every tense line of her body said she wanted to step away from him, even though she didn’t follow through. Probably, she’d never seen a synth this close before—or maybe she had. Wasn’t like any other rust bucket wearing this face was the conversational sort. Anyway, he got it—she was a slight gal and he was pretty sure intimidatingly tall was part of the older models’ build specs. No offense taken.

“Well, you came to the right people,” Nick said gently. “If not the right place.” He inclined his head at the gate. “If you want to talk right now, we can head to my office.”

“So soon?” she asked, voice ticking up, brimming with carefully concealed desperation, and Nick’s heart broke for her.

“Sure,” he replied. “I’ve been away for a while so I’ll have to get settled, but that shouldn’t take long.” Ellie wouldn’t be happy, but she knew him. “We’re headed there now. You can walk with us if you like.”

Tears welled in her eyes, but didn’t fall, and her neutral expression didn’t shift. “Thank you,” she said breathlessly.

Nick gave her a brief smile. “Bit early for that, but the pleasure’s mine,” he said.

“You mind if I tag along?” Piper asked. “I’ve been reporting on disappearances across the Commonwealth. Unfortunately, yours is far from the only one.”

“Piper’ll be able to help you just as much as I can,” Nick said. “For a case like yours, we typically work together.”

“Yes, that’s fine,” the woman said. She shifted from one foot to the other, and her fingers flexed as she squeezed the rifle barrel. “I… I’m a little out of my depth, here. I’d appreciate any help you’re willing to give.”

Nick nodded. “We’ll do what we can, Missus…?”

Her expression did change, then—she blinked back her tears and pressed her lips into a thin line. His mistake—missing person, wedding ring—

“It’s Nora,” she said, voice rasping. She cleared her throat. “Just… Nora.”

A picture he didn’t care for but that was far too common out here started to form in his head. Nick nodded once. “Alright, Nora. I can’t promise anything, but we’ll have you break down the whole story and then see what we can do, alright?”

She nodded, unwilling or unable to speak.

Nick stepped toward the gate, and Piper moved to fall into step beside him. “Office is on the other side of town, so it’s a bit of a walk,” he said over his shoulder. “Ever been to Diamond City before?”

Nora hesitated fractionally before answering. “Not—no. No, I haven’t.”

Huh. The missus thing, he could infer a lot from, but it was weird that that one tripped her up—maybe that was how she knew who he was. She hadn’t been a client in the past, had she? No, he’d remember a woman that looked like her. And he’d definitely remember the unusual vault number.

Piper caught his eye. One-eleven, she mouthed, and Nick tipped his head forward in a subtle nod.

“Piper!”

Nick stopped dead in his tracks just past the turnstiles as McDonough, flanked by a pair of guards that trailed reluctantly behind him, stalked down the stairs that led into the city proper. His face was red, mouth twisted into a furious snarl under his moustache. In one hand, he clutched a bundle of papers hard enough to crumple them.

Piper squared her shoulders and gritted her teeth. “Time for round two,” she muttered.

“Pipes…” Nick said pleadingly. A second round of whatever pissed the mayor off badly enough that Piper didn’t even want to talk about it might get them 86’d—permanently.

McDonough shook the handful of papers at her as he moved closer. “Who let you back inside? You devious, rabble-rousing—”

“Oh, we’re gonna start with the name calling today, huh?”

“—slanderer!”

Nick glanced over his shoulder at Nora, who was frowning and leaning to see around him at what all the commotion was. He held his bad hand by his side and lifted one finger—one second—and pretended not to notice the way she stared at it.

“The level of dishonesty in that paper of yours! I’ll have that printer scrapped for parts!”

“Ooh, is that a statement, McDonough?” Piper spread her hands wide. “What a headline! ‘Tyrant mayor shuts down the press!’ How about this one? ‘Tyrant mayor throws free speech in the dumpster!’”

“Enough!”

“Oh, you’ve had enough?” Piper leaned in. “What about the people of Diamond City? Do you think they haven’t had enough? How long are you going to let the disappearances of your citizens go uninvestigated?”

“I have already told you—”

“That security doesn’t have the time to help?” Piper cut in. “That’s a load of crap, McDonough, and you know it. I want the truth. What’s the real reason security never investigates any kidnappings?”

Behind him, Nick sensed Nora shift closer.

“Isn’t it because you order them not to?” Piper asked, in a tone that said she didn’t need an answer. “Got a justification for that one? I’d love a quote.”

“Enough!” McDonough bellowed. “I told Sullivan to keep that gate shut because I’ve had enough of your disgusting conduct! From now on, consider you and that little sister of yours on notice. This is your final warning.”

“You have no right—” Piper started, just as Nick said “Now hold on—”

McDonough whirled on him, every ounce of vitriol redirecting in a split second, and stuck a finger in Nick’s face.

“And you, Mister Valentine, can consider yourself under the same warning. Longtime resident or not, condoning this blatant scaremongering will not be tolerated.” His eyes narrowed and he wagged his finger like he was scolding a child and not a synth a foot taller than him and nearly twice his age. “You are here only due to the goodwill of the people of Diamond City, and I can assure you that allying yourself with this muckraker is rapidly wearing that thin.”

Piper somehow bulled up even more and took a deep breath, no doubt about to lay into the mayor again, but Nick caught her wrist and held it there, and met her eye with a significant look when she turned to tell him off, too.

Let McDonough win this round. They sure as hell couldn’t—the best they could get was this, right here: getting to walk away without being tossed without any time to tell Nat or Ellie what was happening.

McDonough stood there for a second, looking between the two of them, face flushed, and then turned on his heel and stalked toward the ticket booth, guards slouching along behind him. No doubt poor Danny Sullivan was about to be on the receiving end of a similar tirade.

“Oh, god,” Piper said through gritted teeth. “Natalie.”

She bolted forward, footfalls echoing sharply as she dodged around a trader and out of sight up the stairs.

Nick sighed as the mayor lit into Danny, as the hubbub of traders going about their business picked up again in the courtyard, as the city moved on around him. He caught Nora’s eye over his shoulder, and she subtly raised one brow at him.

“We better get going,” he said, moving toward the stairs.

“Do I need to check in with the gate guard?”

“Think he’s gonna be tied up for a bit.”

“I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

Well, he did appreciate that. “Ah, we’re already in it.” He waved a hand—the good one this time, and stuffed the bad one in his pocket with his forgotten cigarette. “I’ll let ’em know you’re a client later. They don’t usually ask too many questions about that.”

“Alright.”

As they passed through the interior gate, he carefully didn’t see the sign hanging on the chain link fence beside it: HUMANS ONLY—NO MUTANTS, NO GHOULS, NO SYNTHS. But he wasn’t a synth, he was the synth, Diamond City’s own local curiosity, only here because of the goodwill of a man thirty years dead and his own obvious nonhuman nature. Nick was the one synth that couldn’t pretend to be anything but.

Nora would almost certainly notice it too, and she’d have questions. They always did. With any luck she’d save them until after he’d gotten the opportunity to ask his own and the details of her missing person sorted out.

In the few minutes they’d been caught up just past the turnstiles with the mayor, a gentle rain had started to fall. Neon and stadium lights turned the city into a lightshow bright enough to rival the Glowing Sea’s corona of radiation. Merchant stalls ringing the infield still buzzed with activity, and would continue to do so for a few hours yet.

For all its flaws—and boy, it sure had them—it beat the hell out of anywhere else in the Commonwealth. Guilt and gratitude warred in the back of Nick’s mind, like they always did when he returned from a case and saw the city like this, and for once gratitude managed to win out. It definitely beat the inside of the overseer’s office.

Off to the left, halfway down the stairs, Piper was already standing over Nat on their front porch, saying something quietly. Nat wouldn’t be happy about being pulled away from hawking papers, which was almost certainly what Piper was doing.

Nick glanced back; Nora was looking out over the city with an expression he couldn’t quite pin down. If he had to describe it, pained would be a good synonym. Her lips were pursed just slightly, her brow quirked in some repressed emotion, her eyes narrowed critically. Dogmeat whined and pressed against her leg, looking up at her face, but she didn’t acknowledge him.

“Quite a sight, isn’t it?” he asked, and the corners of her mouth twitched downward slightly.

“Yes, it is,” she murmured.

Well. It might not be much compared to a vault, but it was still—for better or for worse—the safest place in the Commonwealth.

“If you don’t mind a detour, we’ll be picking up Piper’s sister from her office,” Nick said, pointing. “It’s just right down there.”

Nora stared for a heartbeat. “Yes, that’s alright.” She dragged her gaze away from the sisters to meet his eyes briefly before looking away again.

“Something to ask?”

Nora hesitated, and then—so unexpectedly he almost moved away—took a step toward him and lowered her voice. “Would the mayor really have them both kicked out of the city?”

Huh. “You know, before today, I woulda said probably not,” he replied honestly. “Not really something he has the authority to do anyway, but after that business out there, I wouldn’t put leaning on the city council past him.”

Nora frowned. “I see.”

“Nicky!”

Nick turned at the shout to see Nat glaring up at him from Piper’s porch. She stomped her foot, squared her shoulders, and planted her fists on her hips.

“Where have you been?”

“On a case, kid,” he called back. He motioned for Nora to join him as he sauntered down the stairs. “Where else?”

“You’re never out on a case that long,” she shot back.

“Well I was this time,” he said, and ruffled her hair with his good hand. “Sorry I worried ya.”

She swatted at him. “I wasn’t worried,” she said defensively.

“Sure, sure. You coming with us to the office?”

“Yes,” Piper said.

“Yeah, but I don’t know why,” Nat groused. “Are you guys gonna tell me what’s going on or not?”

“I already said later.” Piper squared her shoulders and looked at Nick, determined. Her earlier fury and worry looked to have cooled into calm now that she’d verified Nat was safe, but it was the sort of calm that carried an undertone of wariness. “Let’s get to it.”

“Alright then,” Nick said.

He led them the rest of the way down into the infield, and then made a sharp left at the base of the stairs, and then a right onto Third Street, unwilling to cut through the market this time of day. Going past the security building and school was typically faster, and he caught less stares from people who thought there shouldn’t be an exception to the no synths rule. And he was not in the mood to deal with Myrna screaming at him from across the square. Not today.

The Wright gals trailed a little way behind him; Nat still haranguing her sister to tell her what was going on and Piper staunchly refusing, and Nora followed behind them, looking around at everything like she was seeing it for the first time. Maybe she was. He’d find out eventually.

It was dark under the upper walkways, and only got darker as they hung another right onto Second Street. The only light on was the one bolted to the wall beside Arturo’s door, halfway down the road.

His sign was off. Ellie really did think he was dead, huh.

Boy. It looked like guilt might win out after all.

Nick picked up his pace, ducking under the corner of the tattered red awning that had come loose again and into the alcove that housed the door to his office.

“You coming, Blue?” Piper said. Nick glanced back; she stood under the edge of the awning looking back down the street.

Nora’s response was distant in more ways than one. “…Yes, I… yes.”

Well, he’d be hesitant to follow three complete strangers down a dark alley, too. Especially if he knew one of them was Natalie Wright.

Nick pushed the door open to find his office dark. “Ellie?” he called. “You here?”

There was a crash from up in the loft, a surprised “Nick?” and then bare footsteps hurrying down the stairs. Nick stepped fully into the office, and Piper and Nat followed him. Nora must have at least been under the awning by now, but he didn’t look back to check as Ellie burst around the corner, loose hair making a frizzy halo around her head.

“Oh my god, it’s you,” she said. Her eyes were wide and red and wet, and Nick’s heart broke for her exactly the way he knew it was going to.

“Hard to mistake this mug for anybody else,” he said, holding out his arms for her.

She threw her arms around his neck and he squeezed her tightly, lifting her to her tiptoes. She took a shuddering breath, and he rubbed her back up and down with his good hand, trying to soothe two weeks of hurt as best he could.

They stood there like that for a solid minute, Ellie breathing tremulously, Nick swaying her gently. He’d have gladly stood there all night if that woulda made her feel better, but…

Guilt was definitely winning this round.

“I got a client with me, Ellie,” he said lowly.

She sniffled against his shirt. “Of course you do.” She said it gently and he knew she’d understand, but he couldn’t pretend that one didn’t sting a little. She leaned back, wiping her eyes with the back of one hand and leaving the other on his shoulder. “Give me just a minute?”

“Take your time, sweetheart,” he said. She nodded, took a handful of calming breaths, and then gave him a one second gesture and stepped past the curtain into the other room.

Nick straightened, and glanced aside at Piper and Nat, standing quietly in the doorway, and beyond them under the awning, Nora, staring down at the ground.

He cleared his throat. “Ma’am—” her head jerked up at the sound of his voice, “—if you want to have a seat here at the desk, we’ll get started in a moment.”

He moved further into the office, switching the lights on and stepping around his desk. It looked like Ellie had been sitting here earlier—there were photographs of the two of them and the Wright gals spread across the desk, one of his ties, a handkerchief, all the detritus of someone crying over a loved one.

Over her employer. He wasn’t that good a boss. Poor gal probably needed a vacation now more than ever, and here he was opening up another case before he’d even had time to tell her he wasn’t dead. Or whatever.

Piper made a beeline to Ellie’s desk. “You guys mind if I borrow a notebook?” she asked, not bothering to get a response before opening one of the drawers. That was alright; she knew where they were for a reason. At least she brought her own pens.

Nat stared down Nora in the doorway for a second, and then darted past Piper—who thwacked her with a notebook—to sit on Ellie’s desk. “I’m not making us any money if I’m not selling papers, you know,” she said loudly.

Nick smiled to himself; there it was.

“We can afford to cool the engines for one afternoon, kiddo,” Piper said.

“That’s not what you were saying yesterday,” Nat countered. Piper stuck her tongue out at her.

Nick settled in his own chair, on the side of the desk opposite the door, and made his body relax, trying to appear as unintimidating and open as possible.

Nora stepped into the room and looked around warily, like she was expecting some sort of trap. Or maybe she was just curious. The tiny little office, with its cramped layout, and filing cabinets and boxes literally overflowing with case files, was no doubt a far cry from whatever facilities they had in a vault. How people living literally underground had more square footage than Nick and Ellie did, he’d never understood. Diamond City real estate went for a premium.

Every line of Nora’s body was tense as she sat at the literal edge of her seat so that big laser rifle had enough room between her back and the back of the chair. Dogmeat flopped down at her feet, tongue lolling, the only one in the room totally at ease.

“You want something to drink?” Nick asked her. “We got a couple different teas, purified water, maybe a soda or two?”

“Do you have coffee?” She sounded hopeful—like a vault dweller wishing for a comfort from home.

“We might have a few packs left. Pipes, we got any coffee over there?”

“Uh, you’ve got chicory tea,” she said, rifling through the little box of beverage components they kept on top of the minifridge by Ellie’s desk.

Nora actually smiled, very faintly. “Chicory tea sounds lovely.”

“One chicory tea comin’ up,” Piper said, and sauntered out of the room to fill the pitcher.

“I’d like a cola!” Nat called after her sister.

“Get it yourself!” Piper said from the next room.

“So, listen,” Nick said gently, without leaning forward. “I’m sure you’re eager to get started, but the way I like to handle these things is to take it a little slow during the interview. You’re gonna remember more details if you’re relaxed and have space to think, alright? So we’ll take it easy for a couple of minutes while you get comfortable and then we’ll get down to brass tacks.”

“I understand,” Nora said. “But I don’t have much to go on.”

“That’s alright too,” he reassured. “We’ll see what I can do with what you’ve got, alright?”

“Alright.”

Piper swept back in the room, followed by Ellie, who was a little red in the face still but otherwise put together. She’d done her hair up in a French twist; it was much less frizzy now.

“I’m sorry about that, honey,” she said to Nora. “It’s been a rough couple of weeks with Nick gone. I’m Ellie Perkins, detective’s secretary.”

“Nora,” Nora said. “Um. Client, I suppose.”

“Missing person, El,” Nick said softly.

Ellie mouthed oh. “I’m so sorry,” she said, full of feeling. “But you’re in the best place in the Commonwealth for it, now. Nick’s specialty is finding people. We’ll do whatever we can to help you, alright?”

Nora’s shoulders somehow tensed further at that. “Thank you,” she said stiffly.

She looked like a woman on the edge of a panic attack. Her back was straight, her heart was beating quickly and her breathing was shallow, her hands were balled into fists resting on her thighs.

He got it. The office was small, and the number of people trying to share its square footage was a little high right now. He didn’t care for crowds, either.

“You know, in a case like yours, the devil is in the details,” Nick said. “I’m gonna be asking you a lot of questions, so we may be here a while. You’re welcome to take your coat off and settle in.”

She sighed a little. “Right.”

Nick turned in his seat to give her some semblance of privacy, but kept her in his peripheral vision as he started clearing off the desk. Nora leaned forward and ducked out of the strap for the laser rifle, then held it in her lap for a moment, staring as if she didn’t know what to do with it. Very carefully, like it was a wild animal that might bite her if she moved too fast, she leaned it barrel-up against the wall beside the chair.

Unused to carrying a weapon, maybe, or unfamiliar with that particular kind.

“Where’s that photo box?” Nick asked, hands full of the photographs Ellie had spread across the desk.

“Here!” Nat said, and stretched forward to hand it to him. Her arms were too short to reach, and before he could scoot the chair back Ellie had the box in hand and was holding it out to him.

Nora winced as she leaned forward and pulled her arms from her coat. Was she injured? Surely her first stop in Diamond City would be to see the doctor if she was. But if she was desperate and had never been here before… Alright, that was one more thing for him to pay attention to.

“Thanks very much,” Nick said, dropping the pictures in. Ellie passed the box back to Nat.

Nora hung the coat neatly on the back of the chair, but didn’t lean back. Well, alright, he’d take a marginal settling over none at all. Sometimes people had a hard time relaxing. Far from the first time he’d seen it.

And then she swept a hand behind her head and pulled a long braid of hair over her shoulder. Had to reach her hips, at least. Then, at last, she sat back in the chair and folded her hands in her lap. Still not at ease, but doing better.

“Tea,” Piper said, leaning around Ellie to hold a steaming mug out to Nora.

“Thank you,” she said again, a little less stiff than last time, accepting the mug.

“I dunno how strong you take it, so it’s pretty potent,” Piper said. “I figure you can water I down if it’s too much. Or—Ellie, do we have—”

“Cream and sweetener?” Ellie asked.

“No, thank you,” Nora said. She gestured to Piper with the mug. “This is perfect, actually.”

“Couldn’t be me,” Piper said. “I like a sweet drink.” She grabbed a cola from the minifridge and rolled up her sleeve to twist the cap off with her forearm. Then she flicked the cap with her thumb and Nick caught it with his good hand.

“You’ll rot your teeth right outta your head drinking that crap,” he told her. He swiveled his chair and dropped the cap in the rainy-day fund mason jar they kept on the bookshelf behind the desk.

“Hey, I brush,” Piper said, and smiled at him.

“Detective,” Nora said quietly.

Well, alright, then, she was done waiting. Nick caught Piper’s eye and gave her a significant look, and Piper nodded and turned to her little sister.

“Hey, Nat,” Piper said. “Why don’t you go hang out in the loft for a bit, maybe get some schoolwork done?”

“Why?” Nat asked suspiciously, dragging out the word.

“Because we’re about to have a long conversation, and I don’t want you to get bored.”

Nat stared at her. “Bullshit.”

“Natalie, language!” Piper barked, and Ellie turned away so the two sisters couldn’t see her stifle a snort.

“I’m almost thirteen! That’s old enough to sit in on cases!”

“It’s really not,” Piper said.

“You were only sixteen when you started the newspaper!”

“So you’ve still got four years to go, kiddo.”

“Piper!” Nat said pleadingly, and turned to Nick. “I’m not a little kid anymore. I can handle this stuff if you guys would just let me.”

“Maybe next time, alright? Just not right now,” Nick said gently.

Nat scoffed and kicked her feet, and looked from Nick, to Ellie, to Nora, and finally back to her sister. Then she seemed to deflate.

“Fine, whatever. Can I at least sit out on the deck?”

“If you take the umbrella,” Piper said. “And come back inside if you see any angry politicians.”

Nat sighed loudly, but didn’t protest further as she slid off the desk and slouched out of the room, cola in hand and bag slung over her shoulder. She plucked her sister’s umbrella from her hand as she passed. There was a long moment of anticipatory stillness that stretched between the four of them that remained as her footsteps thumped up the stairs, across the loft above the desk, and as the door onto the deck opened and then closed again.

There was a beat of silence as Nora’s gaze traveled back to rest just shy of his. Waiting.

“Alright,” he said. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Her voice was flat. “Where would you like me to start?”

“Why not with who it is we’re looking for?”

Nora nodded, taking a deep breath. “My son. He’s four—” She closed her eyes, swallowed hard. “No. Five weeks old, now.”

Jesus. Wasn’t the first missing kid he’d been asked to track down, though this one was on the younger side for sure. Typically, in the aftermath of a breakup, one parent decided any kids would be better off with them rather than their former partner—but sometimes it was something else. Raider ransom, or worse. He got the feeling this case wasn’t going to be typical.

“His name is Shaun.” Nora’s voice broke over the name, but she didn’t stop. “He’s—he’s got his dad’s blue eyes, and my freckles, and black hair, and skin a little lighter than mine. He…” She held up a hand, lips quivering, trying not to cry.

“It’s okay, honey,” Ellie said, gentle as always. “You don’t have to say anything more.”

Nora nodded once, exhaled shakily. Nick pulled a clean handkerchief out of the desk drawer and held it out to her.

She hesitated a little, but still took it. “Thank you,” she said, sounding sincere.

Nick nodded, and gave her a second to dab at her eyes.

“Now, I know this might seem like an impertinent question,” Nick said after a moment. “But it’s important to get a complete picture of what we’re dealing with, here.”

“I understand,” Nora said again.

“Is your boy’s father still in the picture, or is it just you?”

The tears that welled in her eyes were answer enough, but she blinked them away, or tried to, and dabbed again at her face when they ran down her cheeks. It looked like his earlier prediction was spot-on, unfortunately. Nora was alone.

“It’s—just me,” she ground out. “The—the people who took Shaun, they—they killed him.”

She couldn’t hold the tears back, then. She pressed her fingers to her lips to stifle a sob, and then covered her eyes with her hand. Bent forward to rest her elbow on her knees, cradling her head. Tears rolled down her cheeks and dripped onto the bright blue fabric of her vault suit.

He shouldn’t feel envious of that, of crying. But he did.

Setting her notebook and pen down, Piper stepped forward, brow creased and lips downturned in concern, and reached out to lay a hand on Nora’s shoulder. “Hey, Blue…”

Nora nearly jumped out of the chair when Piper made contact, jerking away and sucking a breath through her teeth. Her eyes were wide, like a cornered animal.

Cringing, Piper yanked her hand back. “Sorry!”

“No, no—” Nora shook her head, holding her hands up placatingly. She was breathing hard. “I’m—I’m sorry, you just—you startled me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s—it’s fine.”

He understood Piper’s impulse. This was… difficult was too mild a word. This had never gotten easier to watch. This was a wound open and weeping along with her in the back of his own head. He wanted to reach across the desk and take her hand, to provide the anchor he would have liked himself, but that clearly wasn’t how she operated. That was fine.

“I’m so sorry,” Nick said softly. Nora nodded. It wasn’t enough. It was never enough. But it was damn near all he had to offer. Sometimes there was no comfort and you just had to go through the motions.

“Where were you when this happened?” he asked, after Nora’s breathing had steadied somewhat.

She closed her eyes and twisted the handkerchief in her lap. “I was there. I…” She looked from Nick, to Piper, to Ellie, and back again. “This is going to sound unbelievable,” she said.

“Don’t worry. We’ve handled some pretty strange cases before,” he reassured. “Just tell us what details you remember.”

“We were in a vault when it happened,” she said. “It—was an experiment, I guess. The vault, I mean. It was some sort of… cryogenic facility.” She huffed. “The—we thought when we went in we’d be put into apartments or barracks or something, but—”

What?

“—they put us in these pods instead, and the doctor said it was some kind of decontamination before we moved into the living quarters, but then—”

“Wait,” Piper cut in, beating Nick to it. “What do you mean when you went in?”

Nora looked at her blankly, and suddenly everything clicked into place—the wedding band, the perfect teeth, the accent. A vault that was actually cryo storage. The bottom dropped out of Nick’s world and time slid to a stop—except it didn’t, according to his chronometer; the moments kept ticking by like they always had. It was just some strange trick of perception that made the second and a half following Piper’s question seem to last a lifetime.

Funny thing, that. You go your whole life thinking there’s no one else that can relate to your specific situation and then, with no warning at all, someone does, and she walks straight into your office and tells you about it.

“When the bombs fell,” Nora said flatly.

“She’s pre-War, Pipes,” Nick said.

Nora’s dark eyes flicked over, actually met his, briefly. “That’s right,” she whispered. “I—I know it sounds—insane, or—”

“It doesn’t,” Nick reassured. “No, it doesn’t. In fact, folks being around from before the War is a lot more common than you might think. You met any ghouls yet?”

She mouthed ghouls like she was trying to remember what it meant. “No. I mean—not the ones that are people,” she clarified. “The… other ones, yes. I came across the river from Cambridge to get here. The guard said they were bad up there.”

Piper whistled lowly, and Nick nodded. “Ferals. Yeah, they’re pretty thick the other side of the Charles. The uh, ghouls that are people, though, they stop aging once they change, so there are a few of ’em that were around before the War.”

“Really?”

“That’s right,” “So, this vault you were in—one-eleven?”

“Yes.”

“Has it been opened to the surface before?” Just because he hadn’t heard of it didn’t mean other folks hadn’t.

“I don’t know.”

“Where’s it at?”

“The Concord suburbs,” she said. “Just north of the river. The Concord River, not the Charles. A place called Sanctuary Hills.”

“Concord’s quite a walk,” Nick said mildly. “You come all that way yourself?”

“I had Dogmeat,” she said. His ears perked up and his tail thumped against the ground at the sound of his name, and Nora absently stroked the top of his head. “And some other help besides.” Her jaw clenched. “It’s still taken a week to get here.”

“Hey, now, that’s no mean feat. The Commonwealth’s a dangerous place.”

“It used to be a thirty-minute drive.”

Nick blinked. “Alright, that’s fair. But still, don’t put yourself down.”

She ducked her head, pursing her lips tight. Bucking against it.

“Now, I know this will be painful,” he started, and she held very still, like a radstag in a spotlight. “But I’m gonna need you to share everything you can remember about that day. You take as much time as you need, alright? And just say so if you need a break.”

She nodded.

“So—you enter the vault, and what happened next?”

“We were told to get in line at the bottom of the elevator,” she said. “There were already workers in the vault, I suppose. They gave us these suits—” she gestured to herself, “—and told us to change. Dana was holding Shaun, so I changed first, and then held Shaun while Dana changed. That was the last time that I…”

She trailed off, staring into space, and tears rolled down her cheeks. No doubt she’d worked that one over in her head a dozen times by now. If he hadn’t taken the baby back, her husband would still be alive, but she might not be.

Nick took a stab at it. “You can’t blame yourself for something like that,” he said, gently as he could. “You had no way of knowing.”

“I’m his mother,” she snapped.

“And Dana was his father,” Nick countered. She clenched her jaw at that one. “Was there another reason you weren’t carrying him?”

Nora dried her face with Nick’s handkerchief, preparing herself. Off to his side, Ellie shifted her feet, and Piper’s pen scratched across her notebook.

“I had a c-section,” Nora said. She frowned slightly, eyes flicking across the three of them in turn. “Are…”

“Some doctors still do them,” Ellie said softly, and Nick nodded.

“Okay. I was told I couldn’t carry anything heavier than my baby for six weeks, but when the warning sirens started going off, we had to run, and so Dana—” She took another deep breath. “Dana insisted.”

“You’re still recovering, then?” Nick asked. That’d explain the wince when she took off her coat earlier.

Nora hesitated. “Yes.”

“Jeez, Blue,” Piper muttered.

How much did that rifle weigh, compared to an infant? Maybe it was comparable; maybe she just didn’t care, and getting here to get help finding her baby was more important to her than her own health. He’d be willing to bet on that, actually. Maybe he could convince her to talk to Doc Sun, just to make sure she was really healing alright.

“So you change, Dana takes the baby, and then what?”

“Like I said earlier. The doctor told us we were going to go through a decontamination procedure before being brought deeper into the vault. He had us climb in these pods, and then it felt like the air was being sucked out—I could hardly breathe, and…

“It felt like…” She stared past him, into the middle distance, and then closed her eyes. “It was like when you’ve fallen asleep, but don’t realize it, and come back to consciousness all at once. Except instead of it being suddenly daytime, it was dark and cold, and I thought I was dreaming…”

Two hundred years in the blink of an eye. Damn. “What made you realize you weren’t?” Nick asked.

She swallowed thickly. “I heard voices. One was a man’s; it was deep, and rough. I couldn’t tell if the other was a man or a woman—I didn’t hear them at first. It was only once the man said something else I realized he must be speaking to someone.”

“What were they talking about?”

“I couldn’t tell. It was muffled. I tried to clear away the frost on the pod window so I could see them, but it was so thick, and my breath kept fogging it up. Then—”

She choked up suddenly, and pressed her fingertips to her lips to stifle a sob.

“Then I heard a baby cry, and Dana’s voice. I don’t—I don’t know what he said, either. But he sounded panicked.” She shuddered. “I started trying to get the door open, but there was no latch on the inside that I could find, so I rubbed the glass with my sleeve to see what was happening.

“It was dark, but I could see there was a man holding something up at Dana? I didn’t realize at first what it was, because the other person was trying to take Shaun, and Dana wouldn’t let them have him, and then there was a sound like another bomb going off and—

“I think I screamed. And the man turned and walked towards me, and I thought he was going to—” She gaped for a moment. “He leaned right up to the glass and looked at me. And then he said something, but I don’t know what. I still couldn’t hear him well, but when he started talking I tried to read his lips.”

She shook her head. “And then they just—walked away. Shaun was crying and Dana wasn’t moving and I kept trying to find the latch but—” She waved her hand, unable to speak, and Nick’s gaze fell again on her torn nails. She’d tried to claw her way out.

She sobbed again, but then held up a hand. Set her jaw. She was shoving it down.

“I’m s-sorry,” she started, and Nick shook his head.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” he said. “Now, you said this man came right up to you—so did you get a good look at him?”

She nodded.

“That’s good,” Nick said encouragingly. “We’ll circle back to that in a minute. Now what about the other person?”

“No. They were wearing some kind of—it looked like a clean room suit. It was all white, and covered their face, I think. I didn’t see it, anyway. There was a tube running to something on their back.”

“And this is the person who took Shaun? Which way’d they go?”

“Back toward the elevator,” she whispered.

“Did you see anybody else?”

“No, only those two.”

“And after that?”

She stared past him. “I… don’t remember.” She swallowed. “I don’t know if I blacked out, or if the pod was reactivated. I was trying to get out, and then I was falling out.” She shrugged, but the line of her shoulders was tense, clearly ill at ease with the idea. “Then I left the vault and made my way here.”

She was leaving something out—someone must’ve pointed her this way, because no way was Fenway Park a pre-War person’s first destination after waking up after the apocalypse. His gut told him it wasn’t relevant, at least not now—she had said she’d had other help.

But her supposed blackout… that might complicate things. If the cryostasis had been reactivated, they’d have no way of verifying the timeline…

They needed to focus on what they could verify. “Alright.” Nick leaned forward in his seat. “Now, this man. You think you can describe him for me?”

“Yes.” She met his gaze and managed to hold it. “Where do you want me to start?”

“How about his outfit? Was he in a suit, too?”

“No. He was dressed like a—raider?”

Nick nodded.

“Like a raider. At the time I thought he was dressed strangely, but now I think it was patchwork armor. I don’t know for sure.”

“That’s alright. Do you remember anything else about what he was wearing?”

“No, just that his clothes were dark.”

So—patchwork armor, possibly a raider, more likely a mercenary—maybe one of the Gunners? They didn’t work solo, but Nora might not have seen the whole team. Whether the vault was broken into or was already open to the surface would tip his opinion about it being one of the smaller gangs or not. He doubted it, but there was no way to know for sure.

There was still the question of the person in the environment suit, if that’s indeed what it was. Those were a valuable piece of tech, and hard to come by, especially if they were pre-War. He knew Becky Fallon made one, once, but she was a professional seamstress and the customer had paid an arm and a leg for it. How well it worked he didn’t know, but it still looked homemade—a far cry from the sterile white Nora described. Regardless, it was likely not something small-timers would have access to or the caps for.

“Now, how about his physical appearance?” Nick asked. “Skin, hair, approximate age, distinguishing features. That sorta thing?”

She twisted the handkerchief again, closing her eyes. “He was white, bald or balding, with a beard. I think he was middle aged—he looked like he was on the older side, anyway. Or like he’d been out in the sun a lot. He seemed weathered.”

“That’s a good start,” Nick said. He redirected a portion of his processing power to running through faces and descriptions they had on file—from cases closed and otherwise. Filtered out the little gangs, prioritized Gunners, independent mercs, and the big-time raider gangs. It wasn’t guaranteed that he’d come up with anything, but he liked to think he was on top of the names and news going around the Commonwealth. If he didn’t come up with anything, he’d change his focus—at that point, anything would be worth a shot. And he’d been wrong before.

“Now, distinguishing features? Anything stand out about his appearance?”

Nora frowned. “He had a… slash across his face. This side.” She pointed to her forehead, just above her left brow, and drew a line down over her eye and cheek, stopping beside the corner of her mouth. “I remember because it was still stitched up.”

Now that was a solid detail. A wound like that was noticeable, and would almost certainly leave a prominent, depending on how long it’d been. Nick added that criteria to his search, and—

—got a hit almost immediately.

Nick held up his good hand. “Hold on a minute. Would you recognize this fella if you saw him again?”

Nora took a breath, and then nodded. “Yes.”

“You’re sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“Ellie,” he said, turning to look up at her. “What have we got on Conrad Kellogg?”

She turned on her heel toward the many boxes of documents stacked in the corner of the room. “Let me find the file.”

Nora sat forward, frowning. “Who’s Conrad Kellogg?”

“Local mercenary,” Piper said, clicking her pen. “Real scary guy.”

Nick turned to Nora. “Now, let me be clear: I don’t know if this is your man, so let’s not make any assumptions. But Piper got a pretty good look at him, and an alright photo, so we’ll have you look at that and see if you recognize him, alright?”

“Okay.”

“Now, to answer your question—this fella’s a merc, and allegedly a damn good one, or at least a well-supplied one. Swept into town a couple months ago, started throwing money around—chems, weapons, real estate, you name it. But nobody knows who he works for; just that he just disappears for days at a time. Nobody in Diamond City has the sorta caps that he does, except the upper stands folks, and last I checked, my contact there said he’d never seen the guy before.”

“Found it,” Ellie said, and reappeared at Nick’s shoulder holding a stack of documents held together by a paperclip. On the top of the stack, there was a photo—taken from below and to the left, pointed upwards at a man leaning against a balcony railing and smoking a cigar. The angle wasn’t ideal for identification, but it did show one thing very clearly: a scar, running from above the man’s left brow and down over his cheek.

“Take a look at this,” Nick said, sliding the photo out from beneath the paperclip and passing it across the desk to Nora. She took it, frowning deeply.

She stared at the photograph for a long moment, holding it with both hands.

She looked for a long time. The air in the office seemed to still, as Nick, Ellie, and Piper watched Nora, waiting. Her hands trembled, making the photograph quiver.

“What sort of person would do this?” she whispered. “And—why?”

Wasn’t that always the question? “Don’t think that’s something we can know, at least not yet,” Nick said gently. “Not until we find who we’re looking for.”

“This is him.” She looked up at him sharply. Her teary eyes were narrowed in determination. “I’m sure of it.”

“Easy,” Nick said. “He’s not the only one I want you to have a look at, alright?” His internal search hadn’t pinged anyone else yet, but jumping to conclusions wouldn’t help.

Nora set her jaw, unhappy but hopefully willing to cooperate. She didn’t protest, at least.

Nick flicked through the stack of papers, didn’t find what he was searching for, and looked up at Piper. “Didja get anything on the kid while I was gone?”

In the corner of his vision, Nora sat forward. “What kid?”

“Hold on a minute,” Nick said.

Piper and Ellie glanced at each other, which answered his question well enough.

“Nick, we dropped it. We’ve been looking for you,” Piper said.

Right, of course. He nodded, worked his jaw. Right now wasn’t the time to deal with whatever it was that made him feel; he pushed it back and focused on the matter at hand. He’d smoke it off later. “Alright. How long since we’ve had eyes on him?”

Piper counted on her fingers. “Nine days, I think?” She looked to Ellie for confirmation; Ellie nodded.

“We don’t have anything new, Nick,” she said.

“Wait. Why are you investigating this man in the first place?” Nora asked. “And what was that back at the gate about a rash of kidnappings the mayor won’t let anyone investigate? Are they related? And what kid?”

All good questions. Alright. “Well, that’s sorta what we’re trying to find out,” Nick said, leaning back in his chair. “You wanna take this one, Pipes?”

Piper clicked her pen and cocked her hip, fixing Nora with a serious look. All professional reporter again. “Have you ever heard of an organization called the Institute?”

Nora’s hesitation lasted only a fraction of a second—but that was enough.

“No,” she said.

Boy, did she have one hell of a poker face. Not a single tell but the hesitation, at least not that he caught. Piper launched into her “boogeymen of the Commonwealth” spiel and Nick turned it over in his head. So: sometime in the last week she’d had a run-in with the Institute, or, more likely, someone who knew about them and told her. Doubtful she’d still be alive if she’d encountered one of their scavenger teams. Not many folks could say they walked away from that.

She said she’d crossed the river at Cambridge… and she was toting that fancy laser rifle. It wasn’t the sleek red and white of Institute firearms; maybe she’d ran into that Brotherhood of Steel squad that holed up in the police station. She had said she’d had other help besides the dog.

He’d been avoiding the area—and the soldiers themselves, whenever they came into town to resupply. In an ideal world he’d have more than secondhand knowledge about what they were up to in the Commonwealth, but it wasn’t like he could stroll up and ask. He could only imagine what their precious Codex said about synths, especially since the alleged reason they’d rolled into town was to search out the Institute.

Could only imagine what they’d told her about synths, but at least she hadn’t called him any names yet. Still—there was a difference between being polite because you were a polite person and not being overtly hostile because the synth was the only one who could help you and you didn’t want to piss it off. He was either a good detective and folks pretended they didn’t notice the synth bit or he was a crime against nature and needed to be put down. God forbid he be just some guy.

Here was the most important question, though: why would she lie about it?

He could think of at least one very good reason, and it was sitting across the desk from her.

Didn’t matter right now, anyway, on any count. He and Piper’d figure it all out eventually, one way or another. So she didn’t trust him; he couldn’t exactly blame her for it. She still needed help.

“You think Kellogg works for them,” Nora was saying.

Piper made a finger gun at her. “Bingo.”

“Where does the kid come in?”

“A little less than three weeks ago now, Kellogg shows back up for the first time in weeks with a little boy in tow,” Nick started. “Not an infant,” he added before Nora could start to look hopeful. “Kid looked to be Nat’s age.”

“What’s unusual about that?” Nora asked.

“To be fair, not much,” Nick said, shrugging. “Could be he’s just settling into town with his son.”

“What was unusual is how secluded he kept the kid,” Piper said. “I asked Nat; he never showed up in class, always got hustled around by Kellogg when he was out and about, which wasn’t often. We were already looking into Kellogg; might as well look into the kid too, just in case it was something else.”

“We’re not sure if they’re still in town or not,” Ellie added, tapping Nick’s shoulder. “Like we said, we stopped surveillance when you went missing.”

“What did he look like?” Nora asked.

“Uh, dark skin, dark hair,” Piper said. “That’s all we got. I don’t think any of us saw him up close.”

“Huh. Do you know anybody who did?” Nora asked absently. She was staring into the middle distance again, and she had one hand twisted in the end of that long braid of hers. Nick could practically see the gears turning in her mind.

Before he could ask what she was thinking, something thumped against the ceiling above Nick’s desk. A moment later, the floorboards creaked, and then slow footsteps plodded down the stairs. Nat pushed the curtain aside to see all four adults staring at her as she stepped back into the office, and, true to form, she didn’t look intimidated in the slightest. No wonder Piper was worried about her following in her sister’s footsteps.

“Natalie,” Piper sighed. “You haven’t been on the deck at all, have you?”

“Like you wouldn’t do the same thing,” Nat shot back.

Piper scowled.

“Good thing I wasn’t, too.” Nat looked at Nick. “I talked to that kid. I can describe him.”

“No kidding,” Nick said.

“Nuh-uh. It was just the once but I remember it ’cause it was weird. The press jammed that morning and Piper had just fixed it so I went to pick up noodles to celebrate, and he was leaned over the bar trying to have a conversation with Takahashi.” She looked at Nora. “Newbie mistake. And he didn’t know how to use chopsticks. Obviously he hadn’t been in Diamond City very long.”

Nat shrugged. “So I asked him where he came from and he got really weird and said mister somebody told him not to talk to strangers. So I said Takahashi was a stranger and he said robots didn’t count, and anyway Tak wouldn’t talk to him except for saying what he always says. So I asked why I’d never seen him at school before and he said he didn’t go to school in Diamond City, but when I asked where he went he got really weird again and said he wasn’t allowed to say, and I said that sounded like bullcrap, and then that scary guy showed up out of nowhere and led him off towards the west stands.”

“What did he look like, Nat?” Nick asked patiently.

“Like her,” Nat said, pointing to Nora. “Like a little kid version, with the same nose and freckles and everything. But with blue eyes. And a boy.”

“How little?”

“I dunno, like, ten?” She shrugged again. “He was shorter than me, anyway.”

“That was him,” Nora said, sounding distant.

“Hold on a minute,” Nick started.

Nora whipped to face him, making full eye contact this time, shoulders tense, leaning forward in her seat. “Cryostasis—”

“Whoa,” Nick said, holding up a placating hand. “Now, let’s not—”

“I don’t know how long I was asleep the second time,” she insisted. “I don’t even know how or why I woke up at all! It could have been ten minutes; it could have been ten years. The amount of time that already passed, I—” Her eyes welled again. “Please,” she said. “Can we just—follow up on this? Just to be sure?”

Desperation colored her tone, made her voice crack, and the way she looked at him was—

Hell, how could he say no?

“We will,” he said, hopefully sounding reassuring. “We will, I promise. Okay?”

She stared at him, and if he hadn’t been watching for it, he probably wouldn’t have noticed the twitch in her lower eyelids. She didn’t believe him.

“Okay,” she said anyway.

“Okay,” Nick repeated. “Got another question for ya. Do you know if we’d be able to get back into the vault? It might do us good to have a look around, and the computer system may have dated logs that we can use to find out how long you were out for.”

Nora somehow tensed further. “I didn’t—fuck,” she said vehemently. “I should have thought of that.”

“You were dealing with a lot.”

“That’s not a fucking excuse,” she snapped, and then immediately clapped a hand over her mouth, looking mortified. “God, I’m sorry,” she said into the ensuing silence. “I didn’t mean—I’m sorry. That was inappropriate.”

Nick empathized, but let her sit with it for a moment anyway. Then he said, “You’re still dealing with a lot.”

Whatever retort she had for that—and she had one, judging by the way her jaw clenched again—she didn’t voice. She looked down at her hands in her lap, twisted the ring on her finger, inhaled and exhaled. “Right,” she muttered.

“So—the vault?”

“Right,” she repeated. “I think I could get back in with my Pip-Boy,” she said, holding up her left arm and her vaultie-standard portable computer. “I don’t know for sure.” She took a deep breath. “Obviously there’s some way in, right?”

“That’s the way to think about it,” Nick said, nodding. “So—here’s how I think we should go about this. We start by checking out Kellogg, and any other folks who match your description. If that doesn’t turn anything up, we can head up to Concord and check out the vault. How does that sound?”

Nora nodded.

“Alright.” They needed to wrap this up. Nora was clearly in no state to continue, even though she seemed to be chomping at the bit to get going. Whether it was stress, or the late hour, or exhaustion, or something else, target fixation and beating herself up wouldn’t help them in the slightest. She’d have a clearer head in the morning.

“I think it’s about time we called it a night,” Nick said. “We can pick this up again in the morning, if that’s alright with you.”

Nora looked up at him sharply. “Morning?”

“I’d like a little time to go through our other files, see if we have anyone else who fits your guy’s description. Like I said earlier—I can’t say for sure that Kellogg is the man we’re looking for, just that he fits the bill.” Nick softened his tone. “So, yeah, morning. The gate’ll be down by now, so nobody’s getting in the city, and we can get an early start tomorrow, be up before it opens, if you like, to make sure Kellogg doesn’t leave if he’s here. That sound good?”

Nora hesitated. Obviously, it didn’t sound good. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Nick said. He’d have to keep an eye out tonight in case she decided to take matters into her own hands. If everything else she’d gone through hadn’t slowed her down, he doubted his reassurance would. Leaning back in his chair, he looked at Piper. “Would you mind walking her to the Dugout on your way home? Tell Vadim she’s on my tab.”

“Sure thing, Nicky.”

“Seven work for you?” he asked Nora. “’Bout a half-hour before the sun’s up.”

“Yes, that’s fine,” she said. “Detective, about payment—”

Nick waved her off before she could get started. “We can talk about that when we find your boy,” he said.

She stared at him. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he said. “I don’t take any fees until after a job’s done, and I haven’t even started working. For now, let’s focus on finding out what we can. Alright?”

She hesitated, then nodded quickly. “Thank you.”

“No problem.”

Piper ruffled her sister’s hair affectionately. “C’mon, Gnat, let’s get hit the road.” She gave him a little two-fingered salute over Nora’s head. “See ya in the morning, Nicky, Ellie. C’mon, Blue, what’re you waiting for?” Then she was out the door.

Nora stood up suddenly, and ducked her head. “Thank you both again,” she said quietly, and followed Piper.

Nat was the last to leave, sliding off Ellie’s desk and dragging her feet, and then, when the door was swinging shut behind Nora, she turned a sharp one-eighty and launched herself toward Nick, giving him only a second to prepare himself before she flung her arms around his neck and buried her face in his coat.

Nick hugged her back, patting her between the shoulder blades, and shook his head at Ellie as she mouthed “Aww.”

“I’m glad you’re not dead,” Nat muttered into his shoulder.

“Me too.”

She pulled back and pointed at him—a Piper move. “Stay out of trouble,” she said sternly.

Nick smiled. “You too, kiddo.”

With that, she left, too, sprinting out the door to catch up with her sister.

The office was felt larger than it was with just the two of them that were left. He’d only gotten back a little while ago, but somehow, it felt like he’d never left. It coulda been any other night after seeing off a client; Ellie’d work quietly for a little while yet before heading to bed, and Nick would be burning the candle at both ends, just like always.

Ellie smiled ruefully. “It just never stops, does it?”

“Sure doesn’t,” he agreed.

She sighed heavily, and leaned up against the desk. “How did your other case shake out?” she asked. “Or is that a silly question, considering I haven’t seen you in two weeks?”

“It went better than you’d expect,” he said. “Turns out, our runaway wasn’t an unwilling participant after all.” Nick shrugged. “Decided she’d have a better life as some gang boss’ gun moll than doing whatever daddy had planned for his little girl here in DC.”

Ellie blew out a sigh. “And she decided to abide by that decision…?”

“Eh, not exactly. Shoulda seen Piper. Two minutes and she had the gal convinced her new beau was all talk and no action. Made the poor fella cry when she walked out.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Ah, well, it was Skinny Malone, if you can believe that, and he’s a soft touch. That’s why I’m still kicking; he got all sentimental about the old times and threw me in an office instead of just shooting me. Guess the guy’s only real friends are his enemies.” He rubbed the back of his head. “The dame sure wasn’t, though. Got me good with a swatter. A couple of times.”

Ellie pinched the bridge of her nose between her index fingers. “You are unreasonably lucky sometimes, you know that?”

“Hey now, I like to think some of it’s just good old-fashioned charm.”

“If you keep laughing at death, one day death’s gonna laugh back,” she countered. “God, Nick, you need someone to watch your back. What if Piper hadn’t been able to track you down?”

“I’da figured something out.” He would have; in another day or two he was sure he coulda convinced some of Malone’s boys to turn on their boss.

“You need a new partner,” Ellie said firmly. “And not another Marty; someone reliable.”

“I know, I know,” he said. “You find me one of those, you let me know.”

Ellie pursed her lips. “Believe me, I will.” She sighed heavily. “But—not tonight. I am cried out and exhausted, and I am going to bed.” She stepped forward, into his space, and then leaned down to kiss his cheek. “Goodnight, Nick.”

Nick smiled after her. “Night, El.”

She was right, of course. She usually was. But it wasn’t something he had time to worry about. They had a case to solve. He needed to review the Kellogg file, and dig through others for anything similar to Nora’s missing kid—while he had the time.

Nick sat back in his chair, fished his half-smoked cigarette out of his coat pocket, and lit it again, watching the smoke curl upwards toward the rafters. Rain drummed distantly against the roof. The neon sign outside hummed. Up above him, Ellie breathed softly.

He’d give it until the rain stopped, if that long. The night wasn’t over yet.

#my beta can't stop me from posting this because she's not here #will be up on ao3 once we're finished with the rest of the chapter #nick valentine #fallout 4 #piper wright #sole survivor #nick x sole #fallout fic #fallout oc

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