#I'm moving as soon as is feasible

[eepy-jazz-musicians]

'A Frenchman sheds tears of patriotic grief as flags of his country's lost regiments are exiled to Africa", according to the caption in the 3 March 1941 issue of Life magazine. Incorrectly captioned by NARA as "A Frenchman weeps as German soldiers march into the French capital, Paris, on June 14, 1940, after the Allied armies had been driven back across France."' - Wikimedia Commons

[pellucid-constellations]

Fable - Before

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Being in love with Azriel wasn’t hard; you’d been doing it for over 400 years. But things were changing, and soon, you would be changed. 

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Angst, pining

a/n: This is part of a mini-series but each part can be read on its own/out of order. I know I'm like attacking everyone with this random fic I just started but it's getting my writing muse going and it's exciting!! Enjoy :)

Series Masterlist (all parts ♡)

~~

“Do you think that’s the best idea, Az?” you promoted, cringing a bit as you hid your face in the racks of clothing along the store’s edge. “I mean, Rhys seemed pretty adamant that you… I don’t know—not pursue her?”

Azriel tsked, pressing his hand to the middle of your back as he passed behind you. You turned your wings in. “Rhys doesn’t understand. He only understands the pull of the mating bond and nothing else. But Elain doesn’t want Lucien, I’m sure of it.” 

Something twisted in your gut. “Okay, I believe you. But what if—” 

“Please, y/n, something else now. My failure of a love life must bore you.” 

You bit into your lip as you contemplated ignoring his request. He had done nothing but speak of Elain since you started your outing this evening, but the moment you questioned the feasibility of his plans, the topic was suddenly moot. 

“I was just going to ask,” you broached, turning from the clothes to face the shadowsinger. A necklace display enthralled him. “What if you found your mate? What then?” 

Azriel broke his gaze with the jewels. “That wouldn’t matter. This is different, y/n. You must see that. Three sisters for three brothers. It’s as if it’s a test of fate.” 

“Right,” you nodded, fighting off the urge to throw up or scream. “Destiny, maybe.” 

Azriel’s responding grin did little to soothe you. “Exactly. I knew you would understand. You’ve always understood me.” 

You offered a weak smile, biting the inside of your cheek as he ushered you out of the store with a gentle hand on your shoulder. 

This was getting more and more difficult to tamp down. 

When Azriel first became enamored by Elain, you thought it temporary. He had been chasing after Mor for so long; that wouldn’t be trumped by a woman he just met. And you were used to the way he pined for Mor. It hurt, but it was familiar. 

Azriel never seemed to think he had a real chance with her. 

But with Elain—with Elain, he figured he had a fighting chance. He saw the success of his brothers and felt that this was his chance at happiness. He never looked at you the way he looked at her, and he had had so many opportunities to do so. 

He never spoke of you the way he spoke of her. 

This hurt more than it did with Mor.

But still, Azriel was your family, so you pretended that it didn’t. You sat back and listened as he spoke of his grand plans to court her and sneak past Rhysand. You tried your best to provide good input and smiled when you were supposed to. 

You loved him from afar. 

He loved you differently. 

It wasn’t his fault.

“Did Rhys ever say what he wanted to talk to you about?” Azriel asked after a short stint of silence, the sounds of your steps along the streets of Velaris rhythmic and soothing. 

You blinked and focused your attention back on Azriel. “Oh, um, some mission at the camps I think.” 

“Anything big?” 

“I don’t think so. A little unrest but I think he just wants me to make sure the women are training.” 

“Need me to come?” 

“I would, but I leave tomorrow night. Isn’t that when you—you know…” 

Azriel sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Oh, that’s right.” He tilted his head to the side, weighing his internal conflict. “I could try to move some things around. Elain could—” 

“No, Az, it’s fine,” you interrupted, trying to forget about the times he would restructure his entire schedule to accommodate you. “You have to be diligent with the times you see her. I can see if Cass can come with me.” 

“Are you sure?�� he posed, the question twisting his brow. 

You looked up at him, examining each tell on his face. You’d known him so long you were sure you would never forget his face—never scrub your mind of the intricacies that told you of each emotion he felt. 

Many claimed that Azriel was hard to read. As a Spymaster, that was the goal. But you saw through it all. You’d seen him as a boy and you saw him now. 

There was something unfamiliar on his face as you looked at him now. 

“You really like her, don’t you?” The words hurt as they came out. 

Azriel breathed through a smile. 

“I like my chances this time.” He curled his finger beneath your chin in a playful tap. 

That sounded the same. 

~~

“You sure you don’t want me to come, sweetheart?” Cassian asked for the fourth time, the table between you filled with a plethora of distractions that you were all too grateful for. 

You darted your gaze to the side, eager to ensure that Azriel hadn’t heard the loudmouth in front of you. “Yes, Cass. Now quit it. I got it, okay?” 

Cassian sent the pair at the end of the table a perfunctory, almost irritated glance. “It’s a pretty hostile camp you’re headed into. I feel like you should bring backup.” 

“And I feel like you have four other camps to go to today. And a pregnant mate to tend to, no?” 

“Nesta would sooner bash me over the head with her books than let me coddle her. I’ve tried.”

“Well, just… linger around her, I don’t know. Just know that I’m fine and don’t need a babysitter.” 

From the other end of the table, Elain giggled, the sound light and airy. You snuck a glance out of the corner of your eye to find the shadows along the table retreating to the floor. A few had begun to creep towards you, but you shooed them away with a flick of your foot, wanting to keep the conversation away from Azriel’s ears. 

They listened to you—for the most part. 500 years of pestering them made them give a little. 

“Az can’t come?” Cassian asked, his mouth half filled with roasted potato. “He’s not on anything this week.” 

You raised your brow and stared back at the sheepish look the general offered, waiting for him to chew his breakfast before you replied. “He can’t. Spy business.” 

“Spy business.” Cassian deadpanned.

“Uh-huh.” 

Cassian’s skeptical look rivaled your chastising one. “This doesn’t need to go like this and you know that.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Right. I’ve only known you since we were twelve but I’m going to pretend that you aren’t covering for the one person you—” 

“Cassian.” 

“I don’t want to see you hurt.” 

“Why would she be getting hurt?” Azriel spoke up, his head finally turned from his near-permanent gaze on Elain. 

“I wouldn’t,” you cut in, speaking over the beginning of Cassian’s sentence. “You know how Cassian is, always worrying too much.”

“Is there something to worry about?” Elain asked, looking between the members of the table, her question sweet and ironic coming from her mouth. 

“No—” 

“Yes.” 

“No, there isn’t” you gritted out, throwing Cassian a look. The smile you sent to Elain took effort. “I’m just going on a routine mission, but you know how Illyrians are—overprotective to a fault.” 

Elain nodded and blushed with a soft gleam in her eye, and, Gods, you were reminded why you’d stopped eating breakfast at the House. You bit the inside of your cheek to fight the swell in your throat. 

“I thought Cassian was going to go with you,” Azriel questioned. “You said he could.” 

Cauldron, you really should have taken breakfast in your room. 

You tore your gaze from Elain’s shy expression and blinked at Azriel. He was sat up straighter, brows shot upwards in an accusatory fashion that made you feel that you were in trouble. When you took a moment to respond, he tilted his chin forward, ready to catch you in a lie. 

And you were an awful liar. 

When you were thirty, Azriel had to teach you how to lie to help stave away the men that came with emerging adulthood. That had been mortifying for many reasons, but mainly because he was having you lie about being his mate. Your feelings had become complicated around that time and Azriel did not seem to share the sentiment. 

But you could lie about this with ease. You had become a practiced liar over the years—when it came to hiding your feelings. 

“I-I got an update from Rhys. He said the camp is more settled. I’m only going to watch from afar. They won’t even know I’m there.” 

A lie—a fat lie. But Azriel should be happy. He should pursue Elain as he wanted. You shouldn't get in the way. You needed to get away from them, actually. 

You needed the space. 

You felt Cassian’s disappointed stare on the side of your face but ignored the hole it was burning into your skin. 

“He didn’t inform me of that,” Azriel muttered. He looked to Elain—sweet Elain with her soft eyes and gentle features—and contemplated his night once again. “I think I should come with you. Reports could be conflicting or fabricated.” 

And the way Elain deflated made you press your lips together in a line. Azriel sent her an apologetic, downturned smile and you gathered that he was apologizing for you. You would always be an apology for him, a responsibility. 

Your foot had been shaking under the table without you noticing it, but the moment Azriel’s eyes wandered to Elain, the motion abruptly stopped. You gathered your resolve, sent Cassian another warning glance, and looked back to the man who never saw you. 

“I don’t want you to come, Azriel. I’m bringing Lucien.” 

A low blow, but not one that was uncalled for. 

It had the effect you were hoping for, with both Azriel and Elain sending shocked expressions your way, the former affronted and the latter looking lost. 

“Lucien?” Azriel parroted. 

“Yes,”  you confirmed, taking a causal sip from the cup before you. “Rhys thought it would be good for him to see more than just Velaris and the mortal lands. I’m picking him up before I leave.” 

“And you think he would protect you if the Illyrians went rouge?” Azriel’s tone was bordering on aggressive, his question pointed towards Cassian. 

“The Illyrians are always rouge, Az. That’s kind of the point of all this,” you joked, but the joke didn’t land.

Tension at the table remained. Cassian wasn’t saying anything, his arms crossed and his eyes locked on yours. Your foot started shaking again. Elain, of all people, was the first one to speak. 

“Lucien would protect her,” she nodded, pushing her food around her plate. “He would. He’s… a good male.” 

That altered Azriel’s train of thought very evidently if one were able to pick apart the soft widening of his eyes and the slight twitch of his mouth. All things you caught so easily. 

All things that led him to agree that you should go with Lucien. All tells that made him refocus his attention on Elain and ignore the shallow breaths you let out when you lied.

Because you would be fine with Lucien. Maybe if you went with Lucien, one of Azriel’s suspected obstacles would be removed. Maybe Lucien would start to want you the same way he wanted Elain. 

Only, Lucien wasn’t going with you, and there would never be a time that a conversation like this would happen again. 

A different obstacle, for a different time. 

[roosterforme]

Aim for the Sky Part 9 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You were trying your best to enjoy the countdown to the arrival of the baby, but your emotions were all over the place. Even on your birthday, you couldn't tell if you were excited or anxious. Bradley planned to surprise you with something special, but he got a different kind of surprise instead.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, angst, swearing, injury while pregnant

Length: 4500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

Your parents' departure after Christmas left you antsy and anxious, and you knew Bradley could tell. All the talk about them potentially moving to California had you on edge, especially since everything was beginning to feel very real now. Your due date was creeping closer and closer, and you were starting to remember one solidly scary fact on an hourly basis now: neither you nor Bradley had any clue how to take care of a baby.

Your husband was so excited, it wasn't like you could feasibly bring up this topic of conversation. Every time you tried, he reminded you that he had watched dozens of Youtube videos. He told you that your parents were always just a call away. He assured you that if he was ever going to be successful at anything, it would be taking care of Rosie.

"I'm ready for the Nugget, Baby Girl," he told you as you got dressed to go out to the Hard Deck on New Year's Eve. He was already wearing the pink shirt you gave him for Christmas. The tiny matching one was tucked away in the closet in the nursery which brought a tear to your eye.

"I know you are," you sniffed, "but I'm still scared." You'd had a headache for the last few days, and food just hadn't sounded appealing to you. Your belly was getting enormous as your third trimester wore on, and everything was tender. "She'll be here so soon."

Bradley looked at your reflection in the bathroom mirror, his eyes lighting up as he smiled. "Eleven more weeks, but who's counting? Not me," he said, holding up his phone which had a 'Countdown to Rose' background on the screen. When you didn't even smile, he sighed and said, "I know you're nervous, Sweetheart. I get moments where I'm really nervous, too."

You pressed your lips together and tried to hold back the tears. You already knew how much he struggled with coming to terms with becoming a parent when he hadn't had either of his for such a long time. "The whole thing is going to hurt. And then we have to figure out what to do with an actual baby. Like this is going to be way different from nursing Tramp back to health. And I suddenly feel like I'm going to be terrible at this."

He had you in his arms immediately, and you were trying not to get your smeared makeup on his pink shirt. "It might hurt, but I'll be with you the whole time. And then I swear I'll take care of everything right afterwards so you don't have to. I'm planning on taking a few days off from work after Rosie gets here, and you can relax and be an amazing mom while I clean and take care of everything else."

You looked up at him as a tear slid down your cheek. "You're going to cook, Roo?" you asked, finally breaking into a smile.

His eyes went wide, and his lips parted wordlessly. You laughed at the worried look on his face even as you cried a little bit more. "Well, we can figure that part out. Or maybe you can freeze some dinners? I don't think I should be cooking."

"I agree," you hiccuped, wrapping your arms around him awkwardly with your belly in the way.

You were quiet for a bit before Bradley finally asked, "Would you rather stay home tonight?"

Of course you'd rather stay home. Nothing sounded as good as your bed these days. That was where he fucked you until you weren't horny anymore and then let you fall asleep in his arms while he read to you from the Nugget notebook. "No, I want to go out and see everyone," you told him, because you knew he wanted to go out. "We can sleep in tomorrow and do nothing."

He kissed the top of your head and murmured, "It'll be a relaxing week since we're going out for your birthday on Friday night."

"Are we?" you asked, suddenly feeling excited that he always remembered your day and made it special. "Where?"

"Hot sauce restaurant," he whispered. "And maybe a little something extra."

"A cake?" you gasped.

Bradley laughed as he wiped away your tears. "You want a cake? I'll get you a cake, Baby Girl. Anything you want."

-----------------------------

The Hard Deck was absolutely packed for New Year's Eve, and Bradley was getting worried that someone was going to bump into you. He tried to get you and your bottle of Gatorade tucked safely between his body and Nat's, but there were people shoving through the crowd in every direction.

"I've never seen it this crowded before," you said over the music. You'd just been talking to Jake about three feet away, but Bradley could only pay attention to anyone who looked drunk and unsteady on their feet while he sipped his own beer cautiously.

"Seriously," he replied. "Penny and Jimmy look panicked. That new bartender looks like she's going to cry."

You scanned the room, taking a small step away from him and Nat, and that's when you got bumped. "What the fuck, man?" Bradley shouted to some guy he'd never seen before when you stumbled back against him. "Watch where the fuck you're going."

"I'm fine, Roo," you assured him with your hand on his bicep, but Bradley glared daggers at him until he was out of your vicinity.

"You might be fine, but I want you to be safe and comfortable," he snarled, finally looking down at your pretty face as your straw rested on your lip. "I want you to feel as perfect as you look." Just then someone else bumped you into him, and his fingers curled into a fist.

You reached for his hand and shook it until his fingers uncurled and were laced with yours. "I want to tell you to stop, but you're seriously turning me on right now," you moaned, eyes glued to his face as your pupils grew wide. "Like a lot."

Bradley closed his eyes and took a deep breath as his body reacted to your words and the look you were giving him. His hand came to rest gently on your bump, stroking you through your shirt. You looked incredible right now, and you even tasted and smelled impossibly sweet to him. "It's way too early to leave," he rasped, glancing down your shirt as you took another sip of Gatorade. "But when we do, I promise you'll be well taken care of."

"Mmkay, Daddy," you replied, kissing his neck while Nat made an animated gagging face behind you.

"I was going to ask if either of you wanted to play darts with me, but not if you're going to start doing that all night," she said, but you were already bouncing with excitement. 

"I want to play!" you told her, shoving your drink into Bradley's free hand.

Nat grimaced but said, "Okay, fine. But only because you look happy, and the endorphins are probably good for the baby."

For the next forty-five minutes, Bradley acted as a human fence, trying to block anyone from jostling you while you and his best friends played darts. "You want to play, Roo?" you asked him at one point, holding up three darts in his direction.

"Who's going to guard you and Rosie if I play?" he asked, glaring at a woman who came tripping in your direction.

"She'll be fine," Nat told him, but he just shook his head and let you play. This was actually exhausting. He knew he'd be tired once the baby was born, but he hadn't been anticipating starting his protective duties this early. Soon he'd have his wife and his daughter to look after. Not that he minded. He was already living for it, but he didn't want to mess anything up. Your nerves were evident earlier as your hormones were constantly fluctuating, but he wasn't sure he had an excuse here.

"Are you listening?" you asked, patting his abs with the back of your hand. He could feel your engagement ring through his new shirt which made him smile unexpectedly. "It's almost midnight."

"Oh. Should we head home?" he asked, hoping he could get you out of here unscathed. The bar was getting a little wild now.

"Let's stay for the countdown and then head out. Get me a ginger ale?"

He grunted in response, looking for someone responsible to leave you with while he fought his way to the bar, but Bob was already gone on his deployment. Maria hadn't even come out tonight, and Cam was wasted. Bradley glanced at Jake and Cat who were looking quite cozy off in the corner, and he led you in that direction with his hands on your shoulders. "Stay with them," he told you, clearly interrupting the couple as you tried to dig your feet in.

"Hey, Angel," Jake said with a smirk. He had Cat's lipstick on his face and his arm around her waist, but he didn't seem too upset that Bradley dumped you there.

"Can you look after my wife while I get her something to drink? It's a little rough in here tonight. If anyone touches her, just punch them."

"I don't need a babysitter," you complained, but he kissed your forehead as Jake made room for you to stand against the wall.

"Yes, you do. I'll be right back."

Bradley fought his way up to the bar where everyone was reaching for the plastic champagne flutes that Jimmy was pouring. Penny saw him and immediately got him another beer, but he had to lean in and ask, "Can I get a ginger ale too, Pen?"

She shot him a little smile as she reached for the soda gun and a pint glass, and Bradley turned back to check on your current status. This time next year, you and he would be cozy at home with Rose, and there was nothing that could possibly make him want to be out for the night. A soft smile found his lips as he thought about coaxing his daughter to sleep and holding her against his chest while you and he watched New Year's Rockin' Eve on TV with Tramp on the area rug.

"Hey, handsome, you wanna buy me a drink?"

Bradley let his gaze shift down to the woman next to him, and he shook his head as she reached for his hand. "Absolutely not," he replied immediately, annoyed that someone was making his quest to get this drink and get back to you longer than it needed to be. He handed Penny ten dollars and grabbed your ginger ale before heading toward the back corner where you were waiting for him, safe and sound.

"Seriously, as soon as midnight hits, we're out of here, Sweetheart."

You sipped your soda and said, "Whatever you want."

-----------------------------

It turned out you and Bradley wanted the same thing. He had you both undressed by the time you got to your bedroom, and then the two of you stumbled into the bathroom, laughing between kisses. He tasted like beer, and his two day old stubble was rough, and you wanted him so badly you were aching for it. But he took the time to light two of the candles you left near the bathtub for when you wanted to take a relaxing bath, his hard cock bobbing as he walked. 

"I'm setting the mood," he whispered with a smile, the scars on his face intriguingly handsome in the candlelight.

"Bradley, I'm always in the mood at the moment," you reminded him. You could probably handle him four times a day right now if he could manage it.

"Just let me try to be romantic," he whined, pressing your butt against the edge of the vanity before spinning you around to face the mirror. "I want to romantically fuck the shit out of you."

Your giggles turned to moans as he guided himself deep into your pussy before stroking your clit with one sure fingertip and bracing his hand on the vanity next to yours. His abs were hard against your back, and his pelvic bones were sharp, digging into your rear end. He pulled out a few inches before thrusting deep once again with a delicious snap of his hips. His eyes looked impossibly dark reflecting in the mirror as he watched your breasts bounce as he repeated that same thrust once again.

"Look at you," he crooned softly, leaning in to kiss the shell of your ear as he fucked you a little faster. "Oh my god."

He dragged his big hand up from your clit to cup your belly softly, kissing along your neck as you already felt yourself pulsing around him. Those rough fingers soon found your nipple, and you gasped, "Bradley," which just seemed to egg him on.

He was sucking on your neck and murmuring sweetly incoherent nothings. "Baby Girl, these tits. Gonna love them. My fucking god. Massive."

Where you just saw stretch marks and oversized body parts, he saw something that made him go feral for you right now. Your boobs were so tender, but there was something about the way he was grabbing at you that made you just want more. His voice was deep as his teeth grazed your skin, fingers kneading into the side of your breast as you clenched around his cock which was once again shoved deep inside your pussy.

"Your nipples look fucking huge," he whined, his hips starting to stutter after each fluid movement. "Do you see this?" he asked, hand sliding up the valley between your breasts to grab your chin and aim your eyes upwards until you were studying yourself. Your lips were parted, and he was right, your breasts did look pretty incredible as the candle light flickered. And somehow your swollen belly looked almost cute as he slammed into you from behind and groaned your name. "I did this to you," he whispered, hand resting over your belly button. "But the rest of it is just how fucking sexy you are. I can't get enough."

When you met his wild gaze in the mirror, you let your head tip back to his shoulder, maintaining eye contact as you started to come. He held you tight to his body as his hips met your butt and his cock stroked you exactly how you needed him to. "Oh fuck," you gasped, legs starting to shake as you got closer.

"Good girl," he crooned next to your ear, his mustache prickling your skin as your eyes closed. He fucked you through your orgasm, voice mingling with yours, and before you know it, you were standing there panting while his cum dripped down your inner thighs.

You were a little dizzy, but he kept a firm hold on you as he kissed and tasted your neck, cheek and shoulder. His fingers were stroking your furled nipples, and your skin was on fire with pleasurable little aftershocks that you didn't want to stop. But you were so tired, you needed to get off your feet.

"Roo."

Maybe it was how you said it, or maybe it was the use of that pet name in general, but he seemed to know exactly what you needed with just that one word. He helped you to the toilet and cleaned up your legs while you used it. He brushed his teeth while you did yours, and then he waited for you to remove your contacts and wash your face before leading you to bed. When he climbed in next to you, he kissed your lips and let you get as comfortable as you could before whispering, "I love you both." You were asleep before he turned off his lamp.

----------------------------

Leading up to Friday, Bradley kept trying to sneak off to confirm the plans he made for your birthday. But when he tried to call the lounge in Del Mar first thing in the morning, nobody answered, and if he tried later in the day, there was always an interruption. And that interruption was usually you. On Thursday evening, he finally managed to sneak away to the garage where he planned on working out as soon as he made the phone call.

Once he verified that you were nowhere in sight or within earshot, he had his phone pressed to his ear. When someone answered, he quickly said, "Hi, this is Bradley Bradshaw. I just wanted to confirm my rental agreement for the rooftop space for tomorrow night. I have the hour-long private event planned."

"Yes, sir. The space and the DJ are all yours from nine to ten o'clock tomorrow night."

"Great," he replied, head still on a swivel even though he was pretty sure you were doing a load of laundry inside the house. That's when you came strolling into the garage with a snack in your hand, and he quickly ended the call after a muttered thank you. "Hey," he told you as he awkwardly tossed his phone onto the tool bench and picked up one of his dumbbells.

You stood there in one of his old, stretched out tee shirts and a pair of maternity shorts and chewed on an unsalted pretzel. "Who were you talking to?" you asked. He should have known he wasn't going to get away with you not noticing.

"Uh... nobody," he muttered, and you raised one eyebrow in response. He sighed. "I don't want to tell you, because it's a surprise for your birthday tomorrow, okay?"

You smiled and told him, "Okay, Roo. No worries." You bit into another pretzel, and Bradley realized how tired you looked.

"Did you finish eating dinner?"

"No," you replied softly. "I just want a few pretzels. I have like no appetite."

Your next appointment with Dr. Morris was coming up in a week, and he had been wondering if it was bad that you hadn't gained really any weight since before Christmas. Work had been very busy for you the past few days with the arrival of some sort of new scientific equipment that completely baffled him. You were exhausted after one round of sex now, which was definitely a change of pace from a month ago. He almost blushed when he thought about how the two of you spent your first wedding anniversary.

"I think you need to eat something with some substance or protein or something, Sweetheart."

"I can't," you snapped. "Everything else makes me feel awful. You should try being pregnant, Bradley. It kind of sucks."

He didn't know how to respond, because the last thing he wanted to do was piss you off the night before your birthday. "Okay. Well, will you let me know if I can get you anything?"

You nodded as you chewed up another pretzel before yawning. "I came out to watch you get all sweaty for a minute before I head to bed."

"In that case," he said, laying back on his bench, "let me get started, birthday girl."

You were smiling again as he unlocked his barbell and got to work.

----------------------------

You woke up on your birthday to the feel of Bradley's hand on your hip and his voice in your ear, slowly coaxing you from your dream. "Happy birthday, Sweetheart." You rolled over and were met with his brown eyes and his messy bed head, and he collected you in his arms. "It's my second favorite day of the year."

His body was warm, and the last thing you wanted to do was go to work today. "Pretty soon it will be your third favorite day of the year," you croaked. When his brow furrowed, you guided his hand to your belly and said, "Don't even try to tell me the Nugget's birthday won't surpass it."

Your husband shook his head. "It'll be a tie," he whispered, kissing your forehead as the baby thumped around. "Hey, Rosie is saying happy birthday, too!"

You moaned softly. "Rosie is hungry but doesn't seem to like any foods right now."

Bradley ran his fingers along your cheek before kissing that spot. "I'm hoping the hot sauce restaurant will hit the spot for you tonight. Plus I have a fun surprise for afterwards."

It was worth a try. Hot sauce was one of the only things that didn't sound disgusting to you at the moment. In fact, Bradley poured you a little bowl of your favorite kind for you to dip your granola bar into while he made some coffee, and you did feel a bit better. Your stomach gurgled as he plopped down onto the piano bench to play the birthday song and sing to you. 

As ridiculous as he looked sitting there in his boxer briefs with his hair still a mess, you knew you could never love someone the way you loved him. He was going to be such a good dad. He already built the playset and had the nursery almost ready. He had a countdown going on his phone. He picked out an outfit for the baby to wear home from the hospital. And he took care of you all the time.

"I love you, Roo," you promised, wrapping him up in a hug and kissing along the gray hairs at his temple. "I can't wait for dinner later."

As soon as you were dressed in your hideous maternity tent, Bradley drove both of you to work, and you found yourself stifling yawn after yawn. You were beginning to doubt that you could make it through work let alone a whole date night, but you didn't want to tell him that. Not when he was playing your favorite songs and holding your hand while he drove. Not when he had his arm draped over your shoulders as he walked you all the way up to your office and kissed you like his life depended on it.

"I love you," he murmured before dropping down to one knee to press a kiss to your bump. "Be extra nice to Mommy today, little Nugget." You could feel her squirm around as she seemed to recognize his voice. "She's got a busy day planned for her birthday."

Then he was back on his feet, zipping his flight suit up fully, and with one last kiss, he was heading toward the elevators.

After just an hour in the lab, it was evident that the granola bar and hot sauce had not been enough for breakfast. You desperately wanted to sneak back to your office and dig around in your snack reserve in your desk to take the edge off if you could. You were currently waging a war between being hungry and simultaneously appalled by food.

"Are you okay?" Cat asked, nudging your arm with her elbow as Bickel droned on about the equipment that was on loan from Lemoore's engineering department. He was hoping that in the next two months, you and the others would be able to help him build a more streamlined interface for the F/A-18s. It wasn't that you weren't interested, because you were. You just couldn't focus very well at the moment.

"I'm fine," you told Cat who gave you side eye but stood quietly next to you. It would have been beneficial to have taken your birthday off and spent it in bed, but it was too late for that.

After an indeterminate amount of time, Bickel finally stopped talking, but then he called your name. You met his gaze and realized he looked very excited.

"Yes, sir?" you asked him, taking a step forward. You felt awful. Even the sound of your boot squeaking on the floor set your teeth on edge. Your head had begun to pound at some point in the morning, and now it felt like your brain was attacking your skull.

"Come help me test it out," he said, his voice grating on your nerves in a way it never had before.

Your next step was a bit of a stumble, and you tried to reach for the edge of the counter. You were going to throw up. The urge to gag left you reeling, searching for something to hold onto. Cat was calling your name as Bickel's eyes went wide, but when you reached for him, your hand caught on the instrumentation instead. It hurt a lot, but it didn't hurt nearly as much as your knee connecting with the cabinet. You needed someone to reach you before you hit the floor, but you weren't that lucky. You wrapped your arm around your belly the best you could, but as soon as you hit the floor, you were met with blackness.

-----------------------------

Bradley didn't really need practice dogfighting, but it certainly was fun anyway. Especially when he was up against Jake late in the morning. The taunting was comical and getting more absurd by the minute.

"Hey, Hangman, why don't you hang it up, man. You're done," he said as he shot the other pilot down for the third time in a row.

"Lay an egg, birdman," came the response through his helmet that made him chuckle.

Bradley was just pulling up on his throttle to gain some altitude and go again when he heard Maverick's voice crackle through his helmet. 

"Wheels on the tarmac. Both of you. Rooster first, then Hangman." The tone of his voice left Bradley wondering what was going on. The weather was beautiful, and he was actually enjoying this exercise immensely. In a few hours, he'd be feeding you anything you wanted off the dinner menu at your favorite restaurant before indulging you in your very own, private silent disco.

But as soon as he touched down and started to taxi back toward the hangar, he saw Maverick and Nat running his way. Then he heard her voice through his helmet. "Open your canopy. You need to get out now. Your wife is in the emergency room."

A chill colder than ice shot through his body. Something was wrong with you or the baby, and he hadn't been there to help you. "What?" he gasped, saliva starting to pool at the back of his tongue, making it hard to swallow. "What happened?"

Nat didn't respond, but as soon as his jet came to a stop, she had his ladder ready for him. The rush of fresh air that hit him as his canopy opened did nothing to make him feel better as she shouted for him to climb down. Something happened to one of his girls. He hadn't been there. As soon as he was able to control his body, he climbed down as quickly as he could, skipping the last few rungs. When Nat reached for his hand, he could see the alarmed look in her eyes, and he started crying.

"What happened?" he asked again, but she just pulled her car keys from her pocket while she grasped his hand, and he ran with her to the parking garage.

--------------------------------

Omg, why am I doing this? I hope Nat can drive fast. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 10

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[strawberryblue-blog]

Can you write a pedri smut brothers bestfriend trope

Between us —Pedri Gonzalez.

summary: Request. Pedri x Ferran Torres' sister.

warnings: YES. smut. (unprotected sex, cursing, explicit sex)

words count: +2.5k

#SEXYNOTE: I hope you like sunshine 💝 Thank you very much for the support 💖. I know I'm not very active these days but I'll be back soon 💌

The alarm sounded repeatedly as the sun streamed through the window, alerting you that it was time to get up. An exhausted sigh escaped your lips as you sat up in your bed and carved your eyes.

You lazily slipped your feet off the bed and slipped on your teddy bear slippers, walking to the door and opening it. As you crossed the hallway you heard a noise from the bathroom and groaned as you noticed it was occupied. Your bladder was about to burst if you didn't empty it right now, you'd probably get an infection later and you couldn't hold on a second longer.

You slammed the door loudly feeling the shower on the other side. Shit, you couldn't take it anymore. You sighed trying to calm your need to pee.

"Pedro!" you yelled in desperation but were ignored. "Hurry up!"

"What!?" he shouted from the other side, not understanding you.

You crossed your legs and when you swore you were going to pee right there, you sighed again and again but with every movement you felt the urge to pee. Why was living with someone else so complicated? You needed to use the bathroom right now! So you opened the door without thinking and walked into the bathroom, concentrating on getting to the toilet. You quickly pulled down your panties and fell onto the toilet relieving your bladder when you were finally able to pee. A gasp escaped your lips when you felt your lower belly empty from the pressure you felt.

"It's not normally how I'd want to make a girl moan but I'll take it" an amused voice interrupted your quiet, startling you.

You looked to your side and remembered that Pedri was showering next to you. You rolled your eyes groaning as you quickly pulled the large t-shirt over you, covering as much of your body as possible. For a second you had forgotten him. Oh my God. Your cheeks flushed a soft red as you came to your senses and remembered he was still there, inside the shower, looking at you!

"Is that my shirt?" he opened the shower door suddenly not caring that he was naked.

"Pedro, what the fuck!" you squealed covering your eyes quickly after seeing him.

The image of his body was explicitly tattooed in your mind when you were surprised by him and you started to feel a heat in your body. This was so embarrassing and uncomfortable. At this point you were hating that you were living under the same roof. You heard a loud laugh from him and then grab the towel hanging on the wall. Since you still had your eyes closed, you could hear it come out of the shower.

"I didn't know it was yours, I took it from the washing machine" you excused yourself still covering your eyes.

"You look cute, little one, but next time make sure I'm not looking behind the glass" he whispered close to your face surprising you again.

When your eyes widened at his words, you saw the half naked body of your roommate pass in front of your eyes shamelessly. Damn.

Who would have thought that living with your brother and his best friend would be so difficult? It had been several months since he had come but you still couldn't get used to his presence. He acted like a child and always made bad jokes that embarrassed you.

How did you think accepting Pedro in the first place was feasible? You and Ferran used to move in together when you came to study and when Pedro needed a place to live in Barcelona, Ferran thought it was a good idea for you to share a roof. You didn't know him like Ferran knew him but you only lived together and you tried to get along as well as possible with him. However, there were days when it was impossible.

You couldn't stop think about Pedro though... damn it. Lately these days you had begun to feel particularly strange with his presence and sometimes it worried you. There were mornings you woke up after dreaming about him, sometimes when you heard his voice you felt curious, other times you stare at him for hours. But you tried to think that it was all because you were beginning to know each other and to live together. It had to be.

When you finished, you brushed your teeth and tried your hair, still embarrassed by the previous situation but totally willing to forget about it for your sake and that of your cohabitation. You quickly left the bathroom, trying to get back to your room as soon as possible but your body bumps into something and pushes you back. A whimper comes out of your mouth as you bolt but an arm grabs you and presses down, breaking your fall.

Your feet find balance as your hands rest on a hard chest and your gaze drifts to the surprised eyes of your roommate. You swallow saliva as you feel the pressure on your lower back and his soft skin under your fingers, you're so close to him you can feel his heat leave his body and reach yours.

"I'm sorry, I didn't see you" you apologize nervously.

"I didn't see you" he says looking at you and you shake your head shaking.

Your pulse races and as you bite your tongue nervously, you feel the pressure of his hand holding you.

It was the first time you had him so close to you and you felt a weird sensation, making you rethink all your ideas. What the fuck was going on today? You guys usually barely saw each other, when you woke up in the morning he was already gone and you didn't see each other again until dinner.

A small pout on his lips made you swallow a sigh at his closeness. His wet hair fell at his sides making him look so handsome and you could still smell the scent of his shampoo. Heat rushed through your belly and you almost gasped at how hot he looked, his bare chest, he was only wearing underwear and that made you sweat.

You didn't know if you were still asleep and this was a dream but when your eyes met his lips the urge to kiss him was uncontrollable.

Suddenly you couldn't to move, you were a mess under his hungry gaze as if he wanted to tell you something. You tried to move but he didn't let you, Pedri kept stopping you with his hands and you didn't want him to let you go.

Pedro's hands were around your back and you could feel his fingers pressing harder and harder, your heart was pounding and every second that passed your desire grew more and more.

He was your brother's fucking best friend! It was forbidden. Damn it.

But you couldn't stop thinking about one thing... kissing him.

You could feel your nipples bristle as one of his hands ran down your back, sliding upward. This was dangerous. His fingers crept up the back of your neck, circling it just enough to draw you to him.

And so he did.

The pressure on your neck caused your face to remain on his and his lips to aggressively take you. A sigh of relief left your mouth as your lips met, kissing and feeling each other. Your hands went around his shoulders and you held tight as his hands lifted you off the ground, making you wrap around his waist.

Alarm bells went off in your head as you remembered you were kissing your brother's best friend, his teammate, his buddy.

But you still didn't want to stop. You couldn't.

Your fingers tangled in his damp hair and you tugged at them as he began to take steps toward the bedroom. Gasps escaped your mouths as you touched, kissed, felt each other. It was like quenching a thirst they had been hiding for so long, they were out of control. Your hands caressed their chin and you could feel the fine hair under them, making you hotter.

You couldn't believe you were doing this.

"You can't wear my clothes just like that and pretend it won't have an effect on me, little girl" he murmured between kisses, pulling you away a little to speak.

A small giggle escapes your red lips.

"I didn't know it was yours" you lie innocently again. "I just took it."

It was partly true, you had taken it from the laundry room in a moment of haste without even noticing it was his but then when you realized it was Pedri's "because of its scent" you couldn't take it off and wore it every night to sleep. Maybe that's why you woke up in the mornings dreaming about him.

"It looks too good on you not to be yours" he mutter mockingly and you laugh.

"If you want it back, take it" you say panting and he looks at you lustfully.

His body was on top of yours and he looked so handsome like that, you just wanted to grab him from your face and kiss him until you were tired. When had he ever looked so handsome to you, how could you be feeling butterflies right now in your belly? You had a thousand doubts but you couldn't think now. You needed him.

You bit your lip as his eyes impacted yours, you could see the fire in them. He wanted this as much as you did and they weren't going to last long.

Ferran? You didn't even think him. And you really hoped whoever was upstairs wouldn't punish you for this later because you were about to commit a sin.

His hands settled on your-his- shirt caressing your skin with his fingertips making you bristle completely as you gasped his name in need. Pedri took your lips again, starting to lift it up a little at a time, helping himself with you to finish pulling it off. You could feel the grin on his face as he saw you without a bra, bringing his palms quickly to your breasts. The cool touch of his fingers made you shiver, moaning as you felt his caresses encircle your breasts and gently knead them.

The warmth in your legs was overwhelming and you could feel Pedro's bulge slap against your belly, the two of you needed each other, you were ready and prepared to have each other but he didn't want to rush things.

Your hands wiggled in his black hair, thrumming him as his caresses rose in pitch, squeezing your breast and squeezing it. His lips bit and sucked on yours and you couldn't have been more at ease with his aggressiveness. It didn't take long for your hands to go to his belly and caress his scarred abdomen, making you moan at the hardness of his muscles.

The process was easier than you thought, you were both almost naked, Pedro had taken a shower and hadn't dressed, while you had just woken up and hadn't managed to get dressed either. So you quickly found yourselves completely naked, caressing, kissing, touching each other.

You couldn't stop thinking about how dangerous this was but it was getting more and more exciting, you weren't afraid and you didn't want to stop. Pedro clearly felt the same way.

As his penis positioned itself at your entrance, you both gasped desperately, craving this moment more than ever. Your hands held his shoulders strong as his hands were around your body, holding himself above you.

His eyes searched for your approval when you were both ready and when your hands went up to his neck, he entered you completely. All your thoughts dispersed for a few seconds as you felt his hardness anchor itself in your center, making you cry out in pleasure.

Over seven months living in the same and you had never come across fucking him before, why had you waited so long? Damn it.

It was like a work of art, his tanned skin sweating all over you, his grimaces fractioning in your memory, the sound of his moans like music to your ears. Every stroke inside you was like seeing the stars, you felt satisfied and needy at the same time. You never wanted it to end, you wanted it to stay inside you for the rest of your life. You were going to go crazy.

His strokes begin to be erratic, irregular, his moans get louder and you begin to feel the pressure in your belly. You are in heaven itself, trying to hold on but you know you will explode. Your fingers sink into her back hard, you want to scream. You're fucking out of your mind, you're feeling Pedro in a different way and you were loving it.

Your breaths become exhausted as you try to feel as much as possible. The orgasm hits you in a matter of seconds making you scream and claw at his back, shaking from the feeling of release as you listen to Pedri's curses, climaxing as well.

Pedro falls limp next to you as you sigh trying to assimilate what just happened. You're supposed to be regretting sleeping with your brother's best friend now, yet you don't feel guilty. At least not now.

You turn your body a little to face him, Pedro looks at the ceiling and says nothing. Maybe he is regretting it, it must be important to Pedro his relationship with Ferran. But this doesn't mean anything, you are two adults who can sleep together and then move on with your lives. It was just a one-time thing, it's not a big deal. Ferran doesn't need to know about it, nor does anyone else.

"What's wrong?" you ask him in a whisper. Pedro turns his head and looks at you.

"Nothing" he simply says.

One of your hands rests on his cheek and you caress him.

"It was nothing" you say trying to shake off his guilt. "Ferran won't know, this stays between us."

He grimaces. "He will kill me" he sighs.

"It won't happen again, it was just a one time thing" you say again to believe it.

The boy next to you nods with a small smile.

"Then I should get out of your room" he mutters with a chuckle. You nod.

His body gets up and he reaches for the few clothes he had on when he came in the first place and puts them on, while you watch him still dumbfounded. His muscular back faces you as you watch him get dressed and a shiver runs down your spine at the thought of what you had done.

He gets out of bed and turns again to look at you, you don't know what his next move will be, so you smile at him to reassure him. He shyly approaches you again, lying on top of you with his head. His lips kiss yours deliciously and you receive him by holding his cheeks.

He is saying goodbye to you, to whatever it is you just did, whatever it is you have. The secret that will bind you together forever.

When you part from your kiss, Pedri smiles and you give him a smile in return, letting him go. His body disappears from the room and you sigh trying to erase all your lived memories so you can move on with your life.

This will not be easy.

[genericpuff]

LORE | REKINDLED EPISODE 12 - STOWAWAY

<<< Previous episode | Next episode >>>

We're back! And with an episode that nearly broke the 30 image limit! This is part of the issue with the whole "some panels are blurry" problem, while I try to upload each panel individually to make each one as clear as possible for y'all, I can't feasibly do that when the panel count goes above 30 😅 So often times that means having to group panels together into image uploads :' 0

I'm sure y'all can see why this episode ended up being as long as it did, I wanted to give our guy ✨ CHARON ✨ his much needed spotlight! (congrats to those who won in the poll, RIP to y'all Despoina lovers but hang in there, we might get around to her at some point 🙏💖)

All that aside, thank you all so much for your patience and support! This past month has been wild, both with IEX and the apartment move. We're still not done unpacking in the new place as I'm typing this (it's Thursday afternoon rn, hello from the past!) but should HOPEFULLY be done by the time this episode goes up :3 Streaming is resuming this weekend as well so if you're reading this as soon as it goes up, peek in and say hi while we work on the next episode! <3

We also have a Discord!

[moremaybank]

#14 from the prompt list with JJ in the Twinkie :)

“if i have to pull over, you’ll be walking funny for the next week.”

warnings 18+, oral sex (m. receiving), unprotected sex. creampie, choking, public/semi-public sex (i think ??? idk which one fits better so yeah), language, dom!jj

author's note kinda but not really proofread, oops

prompt list (requests closed) / jj masterlist

"I'm bored, J. How much longer 'til we get there?"

"About an hour. Just like I told you the last time you asked me — twenty seconds ago."

You let out a loud groan, sinking into your seat. The restlessness was getting to you. Your legs ache, and the full body stretch you crave isn't feasible thanks to the space you're confined in.

"I can't do this for two more hours. I hurt, J. And I'm bored."

"Take a nap. Promise we'll be there by the time you wake up."

You roll your eyes, "I'm not even tired."

JJ shakes his head, huffing a laugh. His right hand reaches over the middle console, landing on your thigh. He massages your flesh, and gives it a light squeeze as if to say, it's okay, baby.

The action, while you know is innocent, sends a shockwave of flutters into your stomach, which, coincidentally, also sends them to your core.

His hand returns to the wheel faster than you'd hoped, and you're left with unfulfilled need. It doesn't matter how simply or casually he touches you, his touch will never fail to make your head spin. He's too hypnotizing, his trace too exhilarating.

The more you watch him from your seat, the more handsome he seems to get. He's a concoction of messy blonde tufts of hair, pink lips, and a dimple you'd truthfully like to lick. His eyes are focused on the road, and all you can think about is how much you want his focus to be on you.

Slowly, you creep closer toward him, leaning over the console just as his hand had earlier, and you place a wet kiss to his prominent jawline.

"You're so gorgeous, baby. Have I told you that lately?"

You tell him daily. Hell, hourly.

Still, though, JJ eats it up every time.

"Yeah, but I wouldn't mind hearing it again," he smirks.

"Well, you are," you reiterate, voice all sultry. Your hand lands on his knee as your lips move onto the spot right under his ear. "It's making me crazy."

JJ gulps when he feels you creep your way closer and closer to his crotch. Your hand reaches his inner thigh, your nails lightly grazing over the crotch of his shorts.

"Princess."

"Mhm?" You hum, fully palming his slowly hardening cock.

"You're gonna wanna be real careful about what you do next."

"Yeah? Why's that?"

Your fingers undo the button swiftly, and they soon tug the zipper down. JJ practically hisses, and his cock twitches when you come into contact with it, still covered by his boxers.

"You're so hard, J. You sure you don't want me to take care of this?"

JJ remains silent, trying to keep his attention on driving. Of course, you don't make it easy on him. Where's the fun in that?

You retract your hand, spitting on your palm and lubing it up. You tug his cock out of his underwear, and start to stroke him. His jaw clenches, and you see him struggling to keep his eyes open.

He clears his throat, "If I have to pull over, you'll be walking funny for the next week."

You snicker at his response but ultimately ignore it, giving his length a light squeeze. You shift in your seat, allowing yourself to bring your head to his cock. You lick a stripe up from his balls to his tip, letting your tongue run over the pre-cum seeping out of his slit.

"Fuck," he grunts.

Don't react. Don't give her the attention she so desperately wants. Do not react.

You feel his body tense further, clearly trying to keep his cool. He loses it, though, when you bring all of him into your mouth and let him hit the back of your throat. Your fingers brush over his balls, and you suddenly feel the car swerve onto the side of the road.

JJ throws the car into park and shuts it off, before threading his hand through your hair and pulling you off of him and carelessly tugging his boxers over his cock. In a snap, he's out of the car, slamming the door behind him and making his way around the front and yanking yours wide open.

"Out of the car and turn around."

The pulse between your thighs intensifies, the slick from your core now soaking your skimpy panties. You're sure you're making heart eyes at him.

"I'm not asking. Out of the car. Now."

You obey him, sliding out of your seat and turning around. JJ's hand pushes on your back, bending you over as his other shoves your skirt up your hips and exposing your ass to him.

"J...someone could see."

"Too bad, pretty girl. You wanna act like a slut, you're gonna get fucked like one. Right here where everyone on this damn highway can watch."

He rips your panties, the fabric snapping against your flesh, eliciting a sharp gasp from your lips. Your reaction happens all too soon, though, because before you can even collect your bearings, you feel his cock jam against your cervix. JJ's hands pull you back toward him almost violently as he fucks you.

"Greedy goddamn pussy. Look how wet you get from sucking me off," he grits out as he slips in and out of your pussy with ease, thanks to your abundant arousal.

"More, need more."

"I don't care what you need. We aren't playing by your rules anymore, sweetheart."

One hand abandons your hip and grabs you by the hair. You feel the slight tinge of pain on your scalp as he uses your locks as leverage, and you throw your head back even more.

"You're lucky we're on this side of the car. Otherwise, everyone would see how much you like to be fucked like a goddamn whore."

JJ punctuates the end of his sentence with a harsh slap to your ass.

"Ah, fuck!"

"Who fucks you this good, baby? This dumb?"

"You!" You cry out. "Only you, J. No one else."

"I know. That's why you're always misbehaving. You want this pretty punished every second of everyday, right? Couldn't even wait an hour, could you?"

You shake your head no, "Needed you now, daddy."

"Oh, fuck."

JJ loses it when you call him that. He pulls out of you, quickly turning you to face him and plopping you back on the passenger seat. He spreads your legs and wastes no time reentering you. He practically splits you in half with his cock, this new angle allowing him to go even deeper than before.

You lean back against the middle console, letting your head fall back.

"J, I-I'm right fucking there. Don't stop," you beg.

One of his hands leaves your inner thighs, gripping your throat with force and pulling your head back up. His forehead smushes against yours once he draws you close enough.

"Beg me."

"I-I can't even fucking— Shit!"

You were struggling to breathe, let alone fucking speaking. But JJ doesn't give you a choice.

"Beg me to let you cum or I'll stop right now. I'll finish myself off and won't fuck you for the rest of the weekend."

"Let me cum. Let me cum," you whine.

"Let me cum, who?"

"Let me cum, daddy. Please. Pleasepleaseplease."

"There's my good fucking girl, finally showing her face. Cum for me."

JJ kisses you hard, his hand strengthening around your throat. His tongue pushes into your mouth as he fucks you through both of your orgasms. You cum with a squeal that JJ swallows, only fucking you harder and making you see the whole damn planet, not just the stars as he stuffs both your releases deeper and deeper inside you.

"I can't lie, princess," he pants after breaking away from the kiss, "I kinda love it when you're bratty."

You give him a hazy smirk, "I know you do, baby."

[a-twistedheartslonging]

For context: that kalim post about him getting affection/cuddle boner. affection boners. They happen and it can be from feeling affectionate or cuddling. Not necessarily even horny sometimes but yeah. Just bodily reaction to someone they like or love, often at random times. And all i can think is who would be most to least casual/insane if that happens to him

Ones who may or may not spiral or need to leave the room to "calm down":

Rollo: i think that for fic and drama value Rollo is the most flustered and most affected but in a angst filled "what's wrong with me" way?? Like he's going through it, he loves having the affection, I'm sure he has very black and white ideals of how cute cuddling is supposed to go. He's living his "Hellfire Dark fire" scene in his head but it's because he's repressed. He'll mellow out eventually but until then he might shift or leave the room to calm himself.

Azul and Idia feel like they will explode and die if they pop a hard-on from just being happy and next to you. Especially if they think you can feel it and they didn't plan for this. Probably were already nervous about intimacy and cuddling and now they are terrified that you think he's being gross in a nonsexual situation. Might panic that you think he's a perv or something.

Vil- his thing is that he's got an image, an image he has curated and set up. He's poised, he's elegant, he's got grace and he's always in control, unbothered. And now cool composed graceful Vil has got a hard on from kissing you and you being so sweet to him while asking about his day and how how outfit looks so lovely while looking at him with those sweet loving eyes... And now he has to figure out what to do because he likely has several photo shoots to do later as well as class and he wears SO many layers so he's not getting a handle on his situation anytime soon.... Basically vil is a bit embarrassed (very), he also is the one who will be least likely to address it and if he's trying to be subtle and not acknowledge his situation so no one notices then he also ends up being unable to feasibly get you to move along (he also doesn't want you to leave). He might leave the room randomly if he's got shoots later to prevent a photo scandal (he shudders at the thought of the field day the media would have)

Jamil- flustered but trying to keep a straight face. Much more unbothered if he's alone and with you but if he's out and about and he starts to feel something from you being so sweet, being helpful, giving him praise etc and he knows there's nothing beyond being affectionate and wanting to be sweet then he's hiding into his hoodie. Might power walk away to do some other tasks.

Riddle- it's incredible how red his face is considering where a fair amount of that blood is flowing. He might blurt out an apology, he might just become red and keep trying to shift so as not to let you know if you're hugging him etc. he will be extremely confused if it's brought on by you simply being in the room studying and sharing snacks together

Deuce- he's doing that lean forward arms folded pose and trying not to be obvious. He's red. He's apologetic and hoping he's not throwing you off. He will die of embarrassment

Cater- same as above but he's giggling nervously and he's doing his best to not draw attention but also how dare you look so lovable by existing. He's stressed and also doesn't know how to feel about it.

*Not embarrassed per se more wondering/worried about your reaction and will ignore what's going on with him but definitely flusters if you tease:*

Sebek (with caveats)- he loves you, he knows you, he's also aware of decorum and sensibilities and also doesn't want to get teased. So if he's with you and just you it's fine, he's a bit blushing but also he does want to make sure he's not weirding you out though likely he'll reposition and continue. If it's from afar and he just felt so down bad and in love for you while you were doing your thing then he's confused but commenting on his feelings for you (idk if he'll mention his hard-on but he might depending on if he feels the need to give a measure for what you do to him). If it's in public he's much more flustered and he's going insane. Won't leave and isn't embarrassed of the reaction per se but also it's overwhelming and doesn't want to get teased nor draw attention to you (he probably will by accident, he ain't subtle)

Ace (with caveats)- he doesn't want to address the fact that this isn't even brought on because he was horny, this was brought on because you were literally just being yourself and throwing your head back laughing and being dumb and he thinks he would want to see this forever and oh no now he's hard... Like he is down bad and now he's gotta deal with his own body but also he knows he's so ridiculously in love. Doesn't want to address that though so he is trying to not draw attention but also he will try to flip the tables and tease and joke. Help him fr

Jack- see this guy probably gets this A LOT. The thing is that- like his tail wagging- he won't mention it and won't acknowledge it unless he's unable to ignore or if he thinks it might bother you.

Ruggie-same as Ace except he's nervously giggling and might actually just leave the room if he even remotely thinks you're in a bad mood or just a tad too chill or serious. Trying to turn into jokes but will run off because he can't handle the idea of being so down bad that you folding laundry and petting his ears in a casual way has him like that.

Trey- trying to play it smooth. Trying not to even notice. Might get up and bake because that's a great distraction and also the apron might hide the "baguette" he has in his pocket. Will fluster and get quiet if you notice and tease but it's fairly blunt. Mostly just doesn't want you to feel off.

Doesn't give a fuck, will reposition if you need him to but genuinely unbothered.

Rook- need i explain. I think the only thing that would give him pause is needing to look put together. If it's from afar he's sending you a poem and letter about how your mere presence and existence affects him

Leona- doesn't care, will tease you if you notice. Mostly too busy in his feels to truly register an affection boner beyond the fact that you just doing your thing, being loving or just being silly can affect him like that.

Malleus- his multitudes of layers and cloaks and trenchcoats protect his dignity. He does this constantly. He gets it from just seeing you smile, from being unafraid of him and inviting him, from watching the night sky reflect in your eyes. Again affection boner list so he's not necessarily horny so much as his body went "you're feeling all the love feelings, you might need this" and so no he's got a reaction stiffy

Floyd- happens the most when you cuddle and wrestle and play. Couldn't give less of a fuck and honestly with how much chaos is happening and all the random shenanigans he drags you into you probably won't notice. Says something so blunt if you mention it "yeah? it's cause i love you??"

Lilia- considering how he hovers upside down and curled in etc you've probably seen it like right above your head (though maybe you were more focused on twink fae jumpscare lol). His thing is just your joy, laughter and expressions. Unbothered.

Silver- extremely unbothered, doesn't care, will only ask if you mind but otherwise is chilling. You cuddle on him for naps and it happens. Probably a lot.

Kalim- mentioned before but also unbothered. Goes with the flow.

I love all of these.

Oh, what about Jade? I think he might be a little embarrassed, but I feel it would mostly be because of him trying to keep up the whole gentlemen persona thing. Otherwise, he wouldn't care much since these eels don't seem to feel much in the way of shame.

I can imagine he gets one when you comfort him after he's told he can't go on that camping trip for that Varges thing. "Aww don't worry Senpai, how about you and I go on our own special trip. I bet we can have a bunch of fun with just us."

It hits him in the feels and now he needs to hide his eel.

I feel like poor Jack has to deal with affection boners and workout boners. Unlikely he'll ask for help even if you're dating cuz of his tsun condition. He is suffering.

It happening to guys like Vil and Jamil kills me, kinda hard to be all cool and calm now huh?

[tokiwarcube]

Can you do one where the boys react to their s/o who really likes spiders that has one as a pet?

Ooo, for sure!! I'm actually a spider enjoyer myself, so this was a fun one to work on! I desperately want one as well, but with how much I've been traveling for my job + education (and my concerted lack of fellow spider-lovers in my life), it just wouldn't be feasible. Wasn't sure what kind you've got, so it's pretty broad (although I'd love to hear about your little guy!) Regardless, below the cut -- enjoy! 🕸️🖤🕸️

Nathan Explosion

Brutal.

He’s not afraid of spiders, but he does have a very typical view of them. All long legs and venomous fangs, he thinks the fact that you keep them as pets is fucking awesome. Doesn’t matter if it’s a harmless little jumping spider or an OBT — he thinks your little guy is brutal.

He likes to watch them feed— it’s sweet, he does a little subconscious, congratulatory nod when they grab their snack. Nice.

Although despite his fascination with them, he’s not too likely to accept any offers hold them himself (assuming they’re of a size and temperament to be held). Hearing you talk about them and how fragile they actually are, he’s terrified of moving wrong and dropping them, or otherwise causing harm, you know? Big guy, little animal. But cup his hands with yours a bit as you guide them onto his hand, and he might ease into it a bit.

On the rare occasion he has to take care of them in your absence, he absolutely talks to them. And he totally sends you blurry, out of focus photos of your spider completely missing the insect he put in their enclosure, and God, you can feel his exasperation through the screen.

“Your child forgot how to eat.” “Our child, you mean.”

And let’s just say that your little one is quite the source of inspiration… Castratikron II came very naturally after learning about how they were first brought into the world. Tell him some more spider facts while you’re at it — if you get them to him at the right time, you might have an arachnid-themed album soon enough.

Pickles the Drummer

He doesn’t mind spiders — he’s pretty indifferent to them, honestly. His mother was terrified of them though — Calvert never cared enough to get up off his ass to help, and Seth seemed to follow suit, so Pickles was usually the one handling them when they would skitter into the house. (Not that this netted any bonus points with the family, mind you.) So when you tell him you've got your own little eight-legged friend, there’s a twinge of respect.

Although beyond that, he’s again, pretty indifferent. He’ll sit with you when you upkeep their enclosure and feed them, watching curiously — although I will admit, he flinches hard if they strike at your forceps, or run away unexpectedly. You can laugh at him, it’s okay.

He refuses to hold them though — doesn’t matter how handle-able they are. He knows he’s way too shaky just as a person, and with how fragile they are… Yeah, he’s not risking it.

Stresses hardcore if he ever has to take care of them in your absence, but that’s just because he has anxiety more than anything else. He 100% talks to them when he has to go into their enclosure to change water or leave food — it’s more pleading than anything else though. They seem to sense his anxiety, and like to give him a hard time because of it. And if he sees them in a molt? Panic. Expect a million and a half texts asking if he’s doing anything wrong. (He never is, they’re literally always fine —he’s just nervous. He knows you love them, and he wants to make sure he’s not fucking anything up.)

Skwisgaar Skwigelf

Listen — I say this as a devout spider lover AND Skwisgaar lover. But it does take him a little while to warm up to your little one. He’s not arachnophobic, mind you — it’s just such a cultural phenomenon, you know? Hard not to absorb those thoughts when they’re all you ever hear about an animal. But I think that with a bit of time and education, he could easily fall in love with them just as hard as you have! They’re very elegant creatures, no?

He looks at them with curiosity when you go in to upkeep their enclosure, and over time that look of disgust grows into something more fond. Eventually you catch him looking at them when you’re not around, just watching them exist. Their little legs, reaching forward to pull themselves along — precise. Calculated. And isn’t it fascinating, the way they exist in their own little world? So different from our own? Everything is connected in life, and yet, their little eyes only see so much.

This is all to say: He grows to like them quite a lot! He’ll take up your offer to hold the little guy eventually (assuming they’re handle-able,) keeping his hands steady and low to the table. He’s very careful with them, and after his first successful handling, he secretly becomes very eager for the next time you offer.

He still dogs on them though, as he would with any pet.

“Your idiot childs ams never going to makes it through the winters,” he says, watching them strike at their water bowl. “They could never survive in the wilds.”

You sigh. He isn’t wrong, unfortunately.

Arguably the most normal about things in the event that he has to take care of them in your absence. He does scold them for doing stupid shit as well. Truly, he fills the role of spider dad better than you could have ever hoped for.

Play your cards right, and you might find him looking for a little one of his own... I'm just saying, he would do well with a pretty little orb weaver of some sorts. Those delicate little movements and intricate webs just scream Skwis.

Toki Wartooth

Skwisgaar’s hesitance has unfortunately rubbed off on Toki, but once you start talking about how much you love them? He flips pretty quickly! The species doesn’t really matter to him — big or small, they’re all really cools! Although he is very partial to the little guys — jumping spiders of all kinds are favorites of Toki’s! Although he is also very enamored with little web-weavers, too.

He likes to watch them move around, just marveling at the way they exist. Can you imagine moving that many legs at once? Wowee! Or watching them groom? Drinking water? Cool! It’s honestly really cute how excited he gets when they come out into view. He gets a bit startled if he watches a bigger species rear up or strike, but it’s more reflexive than anything else — Brutal!

He also takes up the offer to hold your little one pretty quickly (assuming they’re handle-able). Although despite him being a bit closer to the little guys emotionally, he does better with handling the bigger ones. He’s less nervous about dropping or squishing them, since they’re so big and slow. He drops his voice real low as you coax them onto his cupped hands, remembering to stay low to the table, and whispers out a soft exclamation of excitement when they still.

His social media is flooded with photos of your little dude, taken any time they venture out into open view. You find that after he starts gushing about them online, the world becomes a bit more spider-friendly.

William Murderface

He thinks that your love for spiders is fucking badass, and will absolutely brag about you to others at any given moment. And perhaps he embellishes how cool they actually are (last time you checked they were not two feet long with an instantaneously lethal bite, but hey, you could double check that again), but you know that’s just his way of saying he loves you and the little dude. Secretly he is a bit nervous around them at first, but he will never tell you that. And over time he warms up until he starts to wonder why he was ever even scared in the first place!

He likes to listen to you talk about them — he honestly doesn’t know much about spiders as a whole, and thus will happily absorb information you have to offer.

He thinks any species you own is a cool one, but he’s most partial to the bigger ones — particularly tarantulas. And oddly enough, he likes the more “plain” looking spiders — shades of black, brown, and grey call to him the most. It’s less about their perceived danger and more about the fact that he likes the the fact that they don’t need to be shiny or pretty to be loved.

He talks big game, but he’s actually pretty to nervous to hold your little one. He’s not afraid of them, but he’s terrified of fucking something up.

He threatens your more spider-wary peers with your little dude often. Please smack him over the head, we’ve got too many arachnophobes as is, we don’t need to make things worse.

[mossyivy]

To whoever brought up breeding kink Chris…I love you. [NSFW warning!]

He’d definitely keep it on the low at first, but as you two got married and stuff, that’s when it really came out. That man would go FERAL. He wouldn’t let you leave until he practically made your mind all mush, mumbling and crying out random things.

Oh, but once you got pregnant and your belly got all full? The two of you would turn into rabbits. He just loved seeing your belly all big, and he especially loved seeing those perky tits of yours bounce up and down when you’d try to ride his dick. All swollen and full of milk. It was especially cute when you’d have to take little 5 seconds breaks once in a while, being pregnant and having sex was tiring, okay?

Let’s be honest—You’d be a pillow princess all your pregnancy, there were days your hormones would go crazy and you’d be soooooo horny, but you were just too tired and pregnancy to move around. This eventually led to Chris accommodating to your princess needs, fucking you as you laid on your side and let out little whimpers and moans. Prompting his hand to cover your mouth, trying to shush you to not wake up Ollie, he was asleep just right down the hall. Oh my goodness. How he’d grunt into your ear, and mumble ‘Fuck…’ under his breath…Butterflies in my tummy!!!

He’d also like fucking you while you laid on your back, that man would love seeing your face as he fucked you. Especially because he loved watching you slowly turn into a mess, begging him to stop because it just felt too good! Tears streaming down your face from all the pleasure and overstimulation, rambling on about how it felt so good, how you couldn’t take it anymore, but he knew you could. As soon as he filled you up and the two of you were satisfied, he’d pull out and watch his cum drip from your hole. How you’d try and catch your breath as he slowly pushed some dripping liquid back inside, not wanting to waste a single drop.

Of course he’d make sure you were okay. Asking you if he went too far, or if he hurt you in any way. But you’d just shake your head and snuggle up against him. Your breathing slowing down as he peppered you with love and kisses, like a good man does. He’d just look down to see you fast asleep against his chest, he’d smile, then doze off himself.

- Anon! 🎀

(I just finished cross posting a fic on a03 and come back to this!? I'M BLESSED!! Def adding onto this.)

CW: Praise Kink, dumbification, and daddy kink

(Everyday I stray further from God's light...)

Chris had no idea he had a daddy kink. Not until he started getting referred to as daddy. You'd obviously calling him that when talking to Ollie or to the baby but on occasion you'd slip up and call him daddy. Correcting yourself seconds later before he could even respond.

But dear Lord does it make his chest tight and brain/stomach do somersaults every time you say it.

But during sex at the moments you get tired and it's clear you're frustrated with yourself. You get tired so quickly from the baby but Daddy Chris comes to the rescue. Rubbing your hips gently as he sits up and pulls you closer to him. Usually he'd pull your back up to his chest and hold you in a full nelson. But with your bump that's not really feasible.

But now he lifts you up, shushing you gently as you start asking what he's doing. He'll simply answer with, "Let daddy take care of you," in a tone that makes your pussy throb and brain to mush.

Putting you on your side, making sure he has a firm grip on your thigh as he slides into you from behind. His hand snaking around your shoulders and holding your chin so he can whisper sweet praises into your ear about how good you're doing and how well you take his cock.

That's when your ramblings start.

"It's too much."

"Gonna break."

"Can't take it anymore."

But he just teases you after groaning a soft "fuck" in your ear, feeling your pussy clench around him as his warm breath hits your ear.

"You want me to stop? Sure feels like you don't want daddy to stop." You shake your head no. Not knowing left from right or yes from no at this point. His hand slides from your thigh to your clit. Circling it tightly as hand glides over your mouth to cover your desperate cries. His teeth gently sink into your shoulder as you milk him, buried deep, cumming inside you as you gush on his cock with a muffled cry. Eyes teary and body drenched in sweat.

He pants with a smirk, huffing out a chuckle as he kisses your shoulder and neck, moving his hand off your mouth.

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

Hello, it me :D

Idk how you want to structure this or how it's gonna sound when I try to type out what's in my brain rn, I do know that I want this to be a full hc tho

Ok. So. I've seen some art here & there of some of the M6 with their own children; mostly just babies but there are a couple older kids in the mix as well. This is where things in my head get weird so bear with me:

I'm thinking this ask could go three ways (I also don't know if Nadia & Portia will be able to fit in to this ask but it is what it is), and you can do just one of the options or all of them, I'll let you choose:

A. M6 reacting to MC telling them they're pregnant

B. M6 & MC mid-pregnancy preparing for the baby

Or C. M6 getting to hold their kid for the first time

Hopefully this makes sense I think it provides an opportunity for incredible wholesomeness whatever you decide :)

The Arcana HCs: M6 during MC's pregnancy

~ ohoho, now this, this is the kind of prompt that makes my heart sing! @themushroomgoesyeet I hope you're ready because I'm doing all three of those suggestions in here, just you wait >:3 - brainrot ~

Other baby-related hcs: M6 when someone hands them a baby

The M6 when the child they have with you is an exact carbon copy of them

-- for the purpose of these headcanons and because I write for a gender-neutral reader, MC is pregnant with a baby that is equal parts their and their LI's DNA. This could have happened the traditional way (depending on how you envision your MC or if you headcanon your LI as trans), or simply by magical means. For my fellow trans men, seahorse dads are still dads! And to my fellow AO3 readers, mpreg is possible. Always. O.O --

Julian

For the first time in his life, he was well and truly speechless

And delighted. In fact, his speechlessness was because of the unforeseen tidal wave of joy that crashed over him as soon as you told him and it knocked all the air out of his lungs

Pulling you into an embrace as soon as he can move again and trembling with excitement: "Really? You're going to have my baby? We're going to be parents? I'm going to be a father? Haha!"

If he was bad about hovering before he's terrible about it now

Detailed research on all potential issues (which leads to him having crippling spirals over all the ways this could go wrong)

Auntie Pasha and Great-Grandma Mazelinka are here for it and so overwhelmingly supportive. It's hard to resist Julian's regular suggestions of bed rest because they make it so feasible

Mazelinka's soup was heavenly for your morning sickness

Julian collected at least three different remedies for every single pregnancy symptom you had and filled multiple notebooks with doctor's observations. Even down to tracking your sleep cycle

He also called in several favors to make sure that at least two other doctors would be available leading up to your due date - one for you and one for the baby. (he still insisted on being the main one)

He managed the birth impressively well - years of medical expertise kicked in and he went full "doctor" mode, keeping a cool head and open communication and anticipating every need

Until he held his child for the first time and had to sit down because his knees gave out. He has a whole new reason to live well

Asra

You know that panicked blushy face they make? Yeah, that was it

You briefly mistook it for horror - you know he likes surprises, but this is something else - but it was really his own panic at suddenly being plunged into a whole new world of emotion and instincts

Their first motion was to reach out and place their hand over your heart to confirm it through your bond, if only because they couldn't get their words to work and they needed that grounding touch

Once he's collected himself, he's over the moon. Is it terrifying? Sure, but it's also going to be the adventure of a lifetime, and it means building a new future and family with you! As parents!

They want to tell Aisha and Salim about it as soon as you're comfortable because they've done this before, they can help. And also because they’re going to be grandparents

Covers you with enchantments to keep you and the baby safe and happy and keeps a growing list of the most unhinged baby names to make you laugh. Faust likes to gently squeeze your bump

Makes every pregnancy craving you have and tries it with you, no matter how weird. He's got three years of practice being your caregiver and his patience for the mood swings is unending

Spends an hour every night with an ear against your baby bump, listening to them grow and thrive

Offers you every type of pain relief they can find. If not for your sake, then for theirs, because seeing you hurt makes them panic

Holds you the whole way through childbirth, no matter how messy, and stays so reassuring and supportive

Scared to hold the baby at first because he's so shaky from emotions. Won't put it down once he does

Nadia

The news is so unexpected that she just can't believe it at first

As in, her brain is genuinely incapable of immediately processing what you've just told her, so she just finishes her task before running it through her head a second time before it sinks in

The loudest gasp you've ever heard, you see her drop her teacup as her hands fly to cover her mouth and she stares at you in surprise

So happy. So, so, so very happy

She was never going to pressure you into having children. Between her driven nature and her ongoing loneliness, she'd resigned herself to never being a mother after marrying Lucio

But oh my! What a wonderful surprise! There's so much to do, she's slightly worried that nine months isn't going to be enough time

She sends for multiple physicians and invites several of them to live in the Palace through the pregnancy, and begins the interview process for your baby's pediatrician as well. She wants you healthy

Has the time of her life decorating the baby's future room and ends up getting so emotional looking at all the tiny clothes and shoes

Refuses to let you sleep by yourself. She doesn't want you to feel limited on a day-to-day basis at all, but she doesn't like you being alone for too long, especially during such quiet and precious hours

Prefers to hold off on giving her family any news or updates until she's had at least a few days to let it sink it. Each update she does send provokes a tidal wave of letters and advice and offers, not to mention Grandpa Namar's tear-stained letters of excitement

Has to hide sobs when she holds her child and announces its name

Muriel

Straight up disassociates. Not due to any fault of yours, it's just a lot. Especially given his own context for parenting (or lack thereof)

"Muriel, I'm pregnant." soul gets yoinked through the stratosphere

You know him well enough to expect him to need a moment, so you're not surprised when he shakily nods, takes a deep breath, and tells you he'll be back before dark before walking off into the trees

Deeply apologetic once he gets back because in hindsight ghosting you might not have been the most appropriate response

He's happy, if not deeply anxious, but he gets more and more excited with every pregnancy update

He makes the baby's crib himself, seeking out the tree with the best wood, chopping it up, designing and cutting the pieces, carving and sanding and painting them with the utmost care

As your due date gets closer he starts reverting to an old habit of his, waking up several times through the night with a need to keep watch for any dangers or discomforts and make sure you're warm

You wake up to this sometimes, with him sitting quietly next to you in bed, one large hand resting protectively on your belly, a quiet smile on his face as he stares at the cradle on the other side of the room and counts every tiny kick the baby lands on his warm palm

He doesn't hesitate to tell Asra, Nadia, (and yes, Julian) about your pregnancy, because he knows they'll be able to help you in ways he can't. Watching you in pain during birth is almost traumatic for him

Doesn't say a word when you hand him his baby, just looks back and forth between you and them in delight and awestruck joy

Portia

Screams. Legitimate, jaw dropped, lung-deep screaming

Yes it's because she's excited!!! You're pregnant! That's amazing!!

Funnily enough, she doesn't bring up telling anybody else until several weeks have gone by or until you suggest it. She's used to keeping secrets and this is so special she's still finding words for it

She's also more familiar with what pregnancy can look like, and she doesn't want to make any big announcements with you too early

Borderline obsessive about making sure that you're properly fed and cared for. She keeps every snack stocked, gives you massages every night, asks you about any symptoms and offers relief

She ends up inviting everyone over for dinner so you two can break the news to them together, and if one Devorak wasn't loud and emotional enough, two of them are almost too much for the roof

Mazelinka is quick to offer her services, whether that be bringing soup, taking you two (three?!) to Nevivon so the grandmas can help, grabbing one of the grandmas and bringing them here, etc

Pepi develops a new habit of bringing you stolen fish at least once a day to make sure your growing kitten is properly nourished. the smell doesn't help your morning sickness but you appreciate it

Portia cries every time she sits down to work on another onesie or baby blanket or cloth diaper, which is several times a day

When it's time for you to give birth, she holds your hands as tightly as you hold hers and nearly knocks a doctor out of the way to catch the baby

Full-on happy sobbing when she holds them. Gets jealous anytime someone besides you gets to hold them longer than her

Lucio

Assumes you're joking until you tell him otherwise because what

It's not that he's against it, but realistically speaking he knows that one of him is already a lot to handle. And you're cooking another??

Once you convince him, his exuberant yells startle flocks of birds from the treetops in a half-mile radius. Speaking of trees ...

You two are journeymen. Where are you going to settle down?

You end up picking a spot close enough to Vesuvia for your old friends to be able to help, in a town where you know you'll have a fresh start. Buying a cottage is hard when you're used to a palace

Lucio occasionally remembers his mother's comments about how her pregnancy with him made the Red Plague seem like a summer cold, and then he panics about how much pain you must be in

Sits bolt-upright in bed four months in to your pregnancy in a cold sweat because it just hit him that your belly bump is actually an entire tiny human that's half him and half you and it's miraculous

Starts talking to your bump almost constantly after that

Everything from what the dogs are doing, to the right way to start a fire, to the best types of cookies - he's telling it all to the bump

Does he know, logically, that your baby isn't likely to be born missing an arm because of his amputation? Yes. Does he still have an irrational fear of that happening? Also yes.

Has such a hard time controlling his frustration during the birth when you're in pain and there's nothing he can do about it

Wraps his golden arm in a baby blanket and doesn't care about the mess the first time he holds them and presses a kiss to their head

[breelandwalker]

Hi Bree,

Something I've been wondering about since this past election...

In 2016 there was this really powerful movement to hex Trump. Do you remember? I think you were part of it. I certainly drew a lot of inspiration from it.

Now that he's coming back, are you seeing the same kind of magically offensive energy? Or do you think people are more focused on magically shielding those we know he will harm?

Regardless of how (or even if) you response, I'm grateful for your insight.

Honestly, I haven't seen much of a movement for it this time around. I think we're all still a little bit in shock. The people in my online and local circles have been much more focused on real-time practical measures to ensure that communities band together and that the people who may need information/services/resources that might be under threat next year have access to them NOW. It's been a lot more boots-on-the-ground. Like welp, we have some idea of what's coming, so we'll tackle the practical measures now and the magic will come later.

Personally, I think that's the smart move right now. Magic is all well and good and I know it will be happening sometime soon, if it isn't already. But we've got a pretty short window to prepare and networking and community building take longer than group spellcasting, so....

Will I be doing some magical work to shield myself and mine? Abso-fucking-lutely. Will I be extending similar work to my community where possible? Yes, if I can find feasible ways to do it.

Will I be engaging in hex work where I see fit, up to and including once again binding a motherfucker in brambles and sewage?

Oh yes. 😈

But practical measures and community organization first. Hexing later.

[hoiststowline]

everknown

hound x sick!reader

His stride moves with purpose, half on its volition as the remaining fragments slip to his processor, a single thought tugging happily free. This was the end of the strain, the final handful of strenuous moments he needed to push through, and the light at the end of the tunnel finally appeared within reach.

The radio silence was unforgiving, forced to suppress a squabble that brewed angrily in his throat. Asking him to do something mean-spirited and wounding was like a knife to the spark, recalling the small voice attempting to mask the waver on the other end of the line. "I think it’s probably just a cold.” The reassurance was appreciated, but he wasn’t entirely sure he believed you. “I'll be fine! You worry about what you need to do Hound, and I'll see you soon,"

An ex-vent, shaking his processor free of the idea that somehow things had gotten worse over the course of three days. He hadn’t wanted to leave you alone, forced to persist in such a situation without someone there to help you. But as it all dwindled down, he was strong armed into his responsibilities, and he would admit loudly that he wasn’t happy about it.

The walk to Prowl's office was done via muscle memory, exhausted frame rattling with a yearning, an urgency to leave the Ark as fast as feasibly possible. He hardly waited for the officer to reply to his wordless query, punching the button a little too forcefully, not entirely patient enough to let the panel slide over in full.

Prowl doesn't acknowledge him, lest at first, watching from the corner of fatigued optics as he tosses another data-pad to the ever-growing pile. Hound wastes no time, offering a hum of greeting before heading back towards the door, only stopping dead in his tracks as Prowl's voice pierces his audials.

"What's the hurry?" He huffs, spinning in the desk chair rather grimly. "You still owe me three other reports,"

"Cliff's got somethin' to add to 'em." He drawls, not turning to address him, fearful he'll sense the veiled lie. "Said he'd drop 'em off in a cycle or two,"

"I need you to sign off on them." Hound only relaxes when he hears the chair squeak, confirming he's turned back to his work. "You know that."

"Yeah, ah do." His shoulders slump forward, silently praying that Cliffjumper would hold up his end of the bargain. "Can't do anythin' 'bout it until he finishes."

"Will do." Prowl waves him off with two lazy swipes of his servo, never moving to address him in full once more. Taking that as dodging a very formidable bullet, he slips from the room and begins back down the hallway, careful to ensure a quiet exit with no other unwanted interruptions.

For having everyone avoid you for the better part of forty-eight hours, it seemed unrealistic for someone to want your company. Hound had shown up after a impromptu phone call, rattling off that he was on his way and left little room for argument. "I'm still sick-" You'd tried, but he promptly put that to bed, stating he was ten minutes out and to be ready for him.

Now, after a disorienting ride to the Ark, you stand with shoes glued to the icy metal of the floor, perplexed. A shiver runs up aching joints as uncertainty and delirium rattle a conflicted mind having slept most of the drive. Though, it was no wonder that most of this felt like a lingering dream, shifting warily on unsteady legs as glassy eyes nervously scanned Hound's shared berthroom. A cough rasps from a sore throat, a residual taste of medicine, and cough drops dampening heavily atop your taste buds.

At the sound, the mech steals a glance over his shoulder, an unfamiliar frown settled onto his face-plate. You appeared downright exhausted, looking somehow more knackered than when he'd seen you just three days prior. After fretting, rightfully so, you'd encouraged that it always gets worse before it gets better, but the worry never leaves his processor.

A nest of blankets and pillows had been removed from your room and tossed in his alt-modes back seat upon his insistence, feeling overly guilty for pulling you away from much-needed sleep, but hopefully doing so for good reason. He wanted to monitor your condition and be close enough that if anything happened, he could get you to a human medic without issue.

"Y'arlight?" He mumbles, keeping his volume at a minimum. "I mean, obviously not, but that don't sound so good,"

A sneeze, quickly followed by another, hastily stuffing a rosy nose into the crook of your elbow. "Mhm, I'm fine."

With such a defeated tone, it only prompts Hound to make cursory final adjustments before turning his attention in full your way. "C'mon, ya need your rest,"

Heels lift off the ground only to rock your weight to the tips of your toes, then back from where it initially dispersed. "I don't think this is a good idea, Hound." You wheeze, still unmoving.

"Why's that?" He lowers himself to a knee, expecting you to finish the remaining distance as always, but for the first time, you don't, only alarming him more. "Am I botherin' you?"

He's not going to point out the fluid that brims within your eyes just because he's uncertain if the blame is on the sickness or another ailment. It becomes apparent that you had been distant, but perhaps he'd been a bit too pushy in attempting to comfort such a worry.

"No, not at all! I don't wanna get you sick," You whisper, hushed enough that his audials hardly picks it up. "I'm still contagious, I think, and the medicine hasn't even kicked in, and-" Another sneeze and Hound waits patiently for you to finish the thought, but you just start to furl in on yourself.

"That's very kind of you, y/n, I appreciate that," He replies, optics dimming slightly as he reaches a servo your way, a wordless question you always know the answer to. "Don't think you could get me sick if ya tried. Ah feel bad yer sufferin' so bad,"

Your gaze bounces from his hand to his face, a small sympathetic smile twitching free. Somehow finding the strength, with great effort, you peel formerly stuck shoes free, languidly making the short distance to his call. "You sure?"

"Positive," Hound rumbles, relaxing once you approach. "Darlin', even if you could, nothin' was gonna keep you away from me any longer." Once within reach, he takes your hand between two digits, not liking how cool to the touch you are.

At Hound's natural body heat, you shuffle closer, almost pulled magnetically against his hold. Your shivers cease for the moment, beginning to lean forward as his unoccupied servo comes to your back, wordlessly asking permission to pick you up.

You sluggishly nod, a poor answer, but he understands all the same, carefully lowering you onto his awaiting palm. “If you ain’t better in a couple hours, I’m takin’ you to a medic.”

Almost violently, you shake your head, eyes fluttered shut as he slowly stands, painfully so as to not jostle you. “You’re so warm…”

“Y’just figured that out?” Hound chuckles, surveying you warily. “y/n, I’m bein’ serious about the medic, though.”

With the same unyielding caution, he moves onto the berth, yourself deposited on the pile of pillows he had created there, though still nestled in the crook of his arm. Your head lulled against his chassis as his hand rests on your knees, pulling a blanket over your form as you bundled deeper.

“Oh…okay.” You relent, cheek smushed as your fingers grasp at the fuzz of the blanket, completely delirious. “Love you,” It’s hushed and congested, bringing an air of relief as you teetered on the edge of sleep.

“And I, you darlin’. Sorry it took me so long to help ya,” His thumb runs over your lower legs, soothing like, guilt beginning to crawl back into his chest.

“S’okay,” You reply, nose wrinkling to suppress a sneeze. “I know you’ve got…stuff to do.” Even in your half-asleep state, Hound can easily find how genuine you are, insistent all the same.

“Yeah, but it ain’t fair.” He replies, voice soft. “Y’deserve a lot better. Someone who won’t disappear when…ya need…them…”

As he looks down, you’re entirely conked out, breath evened as he ex-vents soundlessly. “Right. Sleep.” He decides, voice barely audible.

About an hour had slinked by when the door panel slides over, Cliffjumper standing in the doorway with an armful of datapads. He goes to round off into a list of what Hound needs to sign or edit, but the green mech raises his free servo to his mouth-plate, pleading with him to remain quiet.

“You really took my next six patrols for this?” Cliff whispers, looking down at the figure cuddled against his side.

In response, he nods happily, moving through the datpads as Cliff waits. “They’re sick, Cliff. ‘N I had to make ‘em wait three rotations.” He’s being fairly lenient, scanning over the reports before handing them back to Cliffjumper.

Little does he know, or assumes even if he does, he doesn’t care- that patrols were a good thing. It was almost a laughable deal, one that he had to compose himself for when Cliffjumper had brought it up. Patrols are lengthy hours and are often the most boring part, but he finds himself looking forward to them, now that he has someone to do them with.

“Gross,” And he knows what that’s about, moreso that you’re ill and not that Hound’s a lovesick bot. “Do you want me to go get Ratchet?”

“Maybe in a bit. I’ll let ya know.” After the last document, Hound moves to get up, hopeful not to wake you, but a servo comes to his chest, gently pushing him back down.

“Gimme the last one,” Cliff ex-vents, feigning annoyance. “I’ll take them to Prowl. Doesn’t make any sense to get up now.”

“Thank you,” An easy smile finds its way to Hound’s faceplate.

“I’m sure they’ll just get sent back anyways. You always are missing something,” Cliff waves him off, moving back across the room to leave, only to pause at the door. “Tell y/n they’re stupid for getting sick. And then tell ‘em to feel better soon or whatever.”

And he’s gone, but not without a poorly stifled laugh from Hound.

[pruning-the-minds-garden]

Another one of Those Posts

Mental health and relationship stuff under the cut.

I was trying to be around here more consistently, but life got the better of me for both good and bad reasons. The good is a new job in a more friendly part of the country so I am preparing to move ~3000 miles to the PNW soon. The bad is... well, what we're about to allude to.

It came to a head last night. I was reading a book on female sexuality ("Come As You Are" by Emily Nagoski) and realized that much of what's in there could be of interest to my wife. I told her as much. That kicked off a spate of her yelling and crying at me.

Apparently, I am a villain for only caring about female sexuality now that I'm thinking about transition. That is not why I'm thinking thinking about it and in reality I asked my therapist for advice on the subject because of our issues in the relationship and wanting to address them, as well as heading any potential personal issues off at the pass because I have danced that dance before. I have asked prior therapists for similar and not gotten much of use, but this time was different. As soon as I knew it would be useful for her, I shared it with her. That I did not have that book years ago was apparently me intentionally withholding help from her and hurting her in the process. The reasons I did not provide more active support in that and instead gave her the space and resources to solve the problem herself, was three-fold: 1) I did not feel comfortable with interfering in her relationship with her body (i.e. her bodily autonomy) without an explicit say-so, which I never got; 2) She never game me any clear (or even unclear) direction on the kind of help she needed or wanted; and 3) The times I did take the lead, it got so mentally taxing after a while that I had to bow out for my own health. She knew that because I told her, but in her mind that was a conscious decision on my part to hang her out to dry. That speaks to a very... troubling... way she thinks of me in the corners of her mind.

Then she talked about my transition. With a face that twisted at times into what I can only call disgust, she said that she did not know "what she had" and whether I would be a husband, a wife, a spouse, a partner or something else and she wasn't sure she wanted some of those. Now, she has said that she is bisexual for years, and she has supported me in my transition thus far... so that she would reveal that those thoughts and feelings were in her head/heart is... troubling. She says she supports me and affirms my state regardless of what it is, that she loves Me, and says that's enough... but is that true? Does she love me, or does she love me when/if I present masculine and take care of all her needs?

Then, she talked about an incident between us. She'd said she buried the hatchet on that incident and we've talked it to death... but she referred to it in the unfair and reductive way she has in the past, calling it an affair when it was not. It was a consent violation, yes, and I have apologized for that as well as doing my best to make amends... but it was not an affair. Additionally, I don't know how she thinks she has a leg to stand on. She knows me and I am open about everything I do. As well, our relationship started as an affair she had on her ex fiance, without telling me that's what it was, and which happened due to a mismatch between their sex drives. Like, even if that's what it was (which it was not), she ought to understand the reason behind it and have a little forgiveness in her heart for the difficulty therein.

Obviously we need some counseling or something, and that's on the menu if feasible under my new insurance. I just... I don't know what to do with all this. She is treating this like it's my fault for opening the can of worms and everything she said was said in a state of heightened emotion and passion and so isn't really indicative of her thoughts... which, that's fair to an extent... but it also isn't an excuse. She said those things. Those words-as-actions are hers to own, and are her responsibility to deal with the fallout for. They hurt me, a lot. This is also not the first time. I have brought this up with her before, she said she would work on it and change for the better... and now, this.

She has also only gotten less capable of doing anything on her own. More and more chores are my responsibility because her neurodivergent brain just won't let her do them. More and more of her life is my responsibility - things like her student loans which are mine to handle, her prescriptions which I manage, and the bank account which she refuses to check before she makes purchases of things we don't need (but which are nice to have regardless, though doing so at the expense of having any financial cushion is a problem). These things used to not be an issue. I used to be able to trust that she'd take care of the car on her own, but she hasn't gotten the inspection sticker updated for two years nor taken it for an oil change in that time, nor fixed the crack in the windshield, not the headlights. I used to be able to trust that the cats were taken care of, but now I do 100% of the litter box cleaning and 2/3 of the feeding. Things like just maintaining the house, which has fallen apart. I work 40 hrs a week and make 100% of the income for the house... and now it feels like I am doing most of the housework as well. That isn't equitable, when what she does all day is paint-by-numbers, watch Youtube documentaries, and sew/knit/spin. When I get home - and yes, I have brought this up with her several times - she keeps doing those things, but gets mad at me if I don't Just Know which chores need to be done because she has not done them.

None of this feels right, and yet somehow I'M the villain of the tale. I don't think there IS a villain to this story - not me, not her - and that we're both just people... but I very much do not want to be fitted for that Black Hat in her mind, subconsciously or not.

Blah.

[aspecpplarebeautiful]

I have a certain frustration when I talk to my allo friends and family about my anxieties towards growing older. It's hard for everyone right now, I completely understand that. But as soon as I talk to my partnered friends about how they have the benefit of two incomes to afford their one bedroom, their brains shut off and perceive it as me being jealous that I'm single. And maybe I am, but that's besides the point I'm trying to make, and that's that financially the only person I have to rely on is me. Which in practice is good, because you don't want to be financially dependent on someone else. However, it sure would make the one bedroom apartment much more feasible with someone else around.

I have no interest in partnering. I don't want a QPR. I don't want to be forced to put out new roommate listings every time my old one moves out to live with their partners. I want to be just as self sufficient as my friends, but i don't have the same safety nets that they do, financially, socially. Im not trying to say that the experience of being single and struggling is exclusively an aroace one at all, but at the same time it's a uniquely different perspective than I usually see when the subject is talked about? Idk. I'm sure someone has said it better than I can, but it's frustrating!!!

There are a lot of economic advantages to being married that single people do not get. I remember listening to a CBC segment on it a while back, it's not even just things like rent/housing, it's how you're taxed, it's how multiple systems are set up assuming people are paired up, etc. It's a very legitimate issue to be talking about.

I'm with you, Anon. I don't want a partner in any way, and I don't like roommates, and things just keep getting more expensive. It's discouraging.

[kyouka-supremacy]

Very assorted - and probably disorganized - thoughts on Akutagawa's immediate reaction on the night Dazai left the pm, since it's taken a pretty delineate shape in my mind for some time now.

I didn't use to have many strong opinions on how Akutagawa acted when Dazai left (although “unknown” uses as a concept of its own. Akutagawa disappearing, and no one knows where he was or what he did– until he comes back, but as a different man). That is up until recently, when I found this fic that described Chuuya storming to Akutagawa's place and all but threatening him to come to work the day after, and for all the days to come– and thus, urged him not kill himself. And I didn't think much about it initially, yet the scene slowly, unconsciously got ingrained in the bsd canon I have in my mind. And although one could fairly think Chuuya was spiraling in his own depressive episode that night, I feel like it's feasible to believe he'd still look out for Akutagawa. Not because Chuuya cared about Akutagawa in particular (at that point of the story, I genuinely think he didn't experience any strong feeling of any kind for Akutagawa, much less had a general good impression of him), but simply because that's what Chuuya does: he looks out for his own. He's perceptive enough to grasp that Akutagawa was but a kid at serious risk in that moment, and he's compassionate enough to go out of his way to help him, even though they barely knew each other, even though Chuuya himself was hurting like crazy that night (and perhaps even because that's simply what he does to cope with great distress and impending grief: keeps himself busy, tries to think of others before himself).

And there was, indeed, a very real chance Akutagawa was going to kill himself that night. Maybe he wouldn't, for Gin; but I'm not even sure. Dazai was the man who told Akutagawa he would have found a reason to live in the mafia, and now he's gone, the man who himself had seemingly become his reason to live; what's left for him in life anymore, what's the point of going on?– is probably what he must have wondered.

In my mind, the Akutagawas only have had two houses since they joined the pm. The first one was a small but comfortable, nice apartment that was assigned to them by the pm right after they joined, their first proper house. The second, a bigger, more comfortable penthouse, they had to move in after Ryuunosuke completely destroyed their first one on the night Dazai left– caught up in that kind of uncontrollable rage that only comes from inhuman pain. That night, Ryuunosuke got home blind and out of reason. He asked Gin to go away, and when she refused to, he pushed her out of the house with his ability, despite having always refrained from touching her with it, despite having always paid careful attention to never use his ability near or on her. And as soon as she was out of range he started destroying everything with and without his ability, until he could see nothing but red, everywhere. And once he destroyed everything, once the only thing left to destroy was himself, he cowered in a dark angle and howled, covered in blood, unable to speak, hideous and inhuman, nothing but a rabid dog. And his scream echoed the one he released the night he met Dazai for the first time; and if that day he had experienced his first emotion, now he was feeling a second new, deeply painful one. Maybe that's when Chuuya had come in, and told him he was not allowed to kill himself; maybe Gin had called Hirotsu, and Hirotsu had called Chuuya, and Chuuya stormed in, and ordered him to come to work tomorrow. Because Chuuya is smart; because he knows that orders are something familiar for Akutagawa, something that can help ground him; because he knows Dazai is not worth killing oneself over. And Akutagawa didn't kill himself that night, and he kept hurting for a long time, but eh. Eventually, he'll be okay.

[elena-mayfair]

Risky decisions

Paring: Paring: Batman/Bruce Wayne x f!reader, Scarecrow/Jonathan Crane x f!reader Genre: Thriller, mystery, with elements of slow-burn romance Warnings: rating T+/M, strong language, violence, themes of depression, depictions of mental illness Summary: Bruce knew he should keep his distance. He knew that any move he made toward her was the worst possible idea. He could picture every feasible, most probable, far-reaching outcome of his actions. He knew the answer to every if and when. Every possible scenario. He could see every worst possible future. Violence, pain, suffering, shock, disappointment, death, blood on his hands. He could see them all and each of them separately as they projected like a movie tape before his open eyes, intercut frame after frame by the image of his hand over hers. And yet, despite all his knowledge, experience and certainty that he knew, he couldn't find within himself the answer to one question. "What if I'm wrong." Word count: 14.3k Note: Some gifs are not mine, credit to the authors.

Series masterlist

***

"Are you free tonight?" Bruce asked casually as if an idea had unexpectedly crossed his mind.

"I'm sorry, but I already have plans," you replied, and to your surprise realized that your heart wanted to give a quite different answer. "Raincheck?"

"Another one," he smirked, "we didn't get a chance to go to the movies as we had planned."

"Bruce, men are divided between those who seek opportunity and those who can create one," you began flirtatiously, feeling a sudden boost of confidence, "I'm sure you are one of the latter."

He answered nothing. He simply smiled with that signature mysterious half-smile of his, leaned toward you and gently brushed his lips against your cheek. For a split second, the exuding aromatic scent of his fragrance surrounded you. Spices, citrus, leather and something sweet that lingered close to his skin. You imagined him in a black cashmere sweater, sitting with a book by the fireplace, sipping on a glass of whiskey delighted by the quietly resounding jazz. It was a good image, warm and comforting, you wanted to save it in your memory to one day relive in reality.

"Thank you," his low, husky voice snapped you out of your daydreams, "I can't remember the last time I had such a wonderful time."

Some part of you wanted to defuse the tension with a witty joke, a snappy retort, a self-deprecating slight, but when you glanced into the ocean depths of his blue eyes all you could do was to respond with the same.

"I thank you," you replied softly, "see you soon?"

"See you soon."

*

"Soon" was about to come earlier than you expected, but at that moment you didn't realize it. A few minutes after noon you closed your apartment door behind you, threw your suitcase into a corner, and sat at the window with a freshly brewed mug of coffee. You longed for the touch of his lips that still lingered on your cheek to last, along with the scent of his perfume that still floated around you. You gazed at the cloudy gray Gotham sky and drifted into dreams. These past three days were like a journey through the most beautiful fairy tale, even if at times the vibrant magic got covered by a shadow of darkness. With him, even the darkness did not appear so dark, taking on a warm enveloping shade instead. Charming and mysterious, full of contradictions, confident, noble, a gentleman in every way, that's what he was, and you wished that "soon" would come as soon as possible.

"I have a date with Jonathan…" your consciousness broke suddenly through the languor. You reached for the phone, fighting the urge to cancel. It didn't feel right, it didn't feel right to Jonathan but especially to Bruce. Perhaps Jonathan did say he liked you, perhaps Bruce never did, but Bruce's behavior conveyed more than any of Jonathan's words. You shifted your gaze to a beautiful black A-line floor-length dress with lace shoulders and a lace insert on the back and sighed with resignation. In your wildest dreams, you never imagined that a weekend in Metropolis would mess with your head like this.

"I can't cancel, it just isn't right," you decided then impulsively opened the Twitter app. The smile disappeared from your face as quickly as the feed refreshed.

"Unfortunately I'm afraid we won't avoid controversial headlines," Bruce's voice sounded in your head as your feed filled with photos from TechX most of which featured smiling faces, his and yours. Photos from the red carpet that captured perfectly his hand on your waist, photos of your smiling and slightly embarrassed face as he leaned toward you whispering words of encouragement in your ear, photos that captured his sparkling eyes directed toward you as he complimented you, your beaming smile as you walked with him proudly with your hand placed on his forearm. It was all there, frozen in frames and shots, cropped with variations of the question, "Who is billionaire Bruce Wayne's new girlfriend?" With a trembling heart, you expanded the comments under one of the posts, there were hundreds of them.

Does anyone know who she is? I need an answer asap #curious #brucewaynegirlfriend #brucewayne #techx They look kinda cute #brucewayneinlove #brucewayne Adorable Stunning I wish to be her He deserves better #brucewayne #wayne #brucewaynegirlfriend Is she wearing a dress from Zara? If H&M and Tom Ford made a collab #brucewaynedesrevesbetter Cheap skunk #brucewaynedesrevesbetter Wish he would have go back with Charlotte. They were perfect together #charlotteandbrcue4ever She's so cute omg I'm dying!!! #brucewayne #wayne #brucewaynegirlfriend Need name now! #brucewayne #wayne #brucewaynegirlfriend I would tap that! I look at this and all I want is to become a new villain in Gotham. He's way out of her league. Mommy please seat on my face #BruceWayne could destroy my body and my life and all I'd say is "does tomorrow work for you too?" I would let her sit on my face until I die from suffocation. It would be beautiful death. Whore! BRING VANESSA BACK!!! #bucenessa4ever Gender swapped beauty and the beast They look so in love!!! I'm loving this!!! He deserves love!!! #brucewayne #wayne #brucewaynegirlfriend You should know better… Is it just me or does she look like Killer Crock did a number on her? Oh my god I am so jealous!!! #brucewayne #wayne #brucewaynegirlfriend He definitely exudes big dick energy #wayne She looks like a girl next door. The kind you want to watch from behind a curtain, in the dark room, with lube nearby.

It was too much. You locked the screen with rage and threw the phone on the bed. Your heart pounded in your chest and blood pulsed in your temples. "Fucking assholes!!! Fucking assholes on fucking Twitter!!!!" you shouted furiously trying to swallow the tears rushing into your eyes. Wonderland was gone. Reality had returned. And you hated it.

*

Bruce hoped to slip into the mansion unnoticed. He had no desire for Dick's quasi-innocent teases, Alfred's controlled curiosity, Tim's knowing glances, or Damian's clearly judgmental stares. All he wanted to do was slip into his bedroom, change his clothes, head to the cave and make up for the past three days. He tried at all costs to maintain a modicum of privacy, and although he usually succeeded now he had a feeling he wouldn't be able to avoid his boys. How was he supposed to maintain privacy in a house full of detectives he himself had trained.

"Father, we need to talk," Damian greeted him with a stern look as he entered the main hall and set down his suitcase. Hands crossed over his chest indicated his determination.

"Not now, Damian. I have work to do," he replied, avoiding his son's scrutiny.

"We did the work, Father. You just have to read the report. I'll admit that in your absence Todd has proved to be an invaluable asset," he didn't take his eyes off him, "I shouldn't be surprised. After all, you trained him."

"Jason was here?"

"You know very well that Jason is always here when you're out of town so don't act surprised," despite his young age and small stature he exuded confidence, "Father, do we have reason for concern?"

"Concern about what?" Bruce played confused.

"Well I probably don't need to remind you that most of the women you've associated with in the past have been on the wrong side of the law," Damian pointed out gruffly, "you told us that this whole affair is driven by the observation and investigation."

"And what makes you think otherwise," Bruce smiled softly, bending down to look his son in the eye.

"The photos that are circulating the Internet reveal a very different story."

"Damian, I assure you that you have nothing to be worried about," he put a hand on his shoulder, "I appreciate your concern, but your suspicions are absurd."

"Father…" Damian began but Bruce did not let him finish.

"Clark and Jon will visit us next Sunday," even though Damian tried to feign indifference Bruce could see a glint of joy in his son's eyes. He wouldn't admit it out loud, but he considered Superman's son a friend, "I was hoping it would make you happy."

"It will be a nice change from the company of Grayson and Drake," Damian grunted, "but you're avoiding the subject."

"Because there's nothing to talk about," Bruce denied stubbornly, "and now if you'll excuse me, I really need to get on with my work."

*

With a cigarette in one hand and a phone in the other, you stared at Jonathan's name displayed on the screen. You hadn't heard a word from him in two days, and the evening was approaching fast. You inhaled deeply and let the smoke soothe your nerves. You weren't proud of your returning habit, but you desperately needed to calm down and alcohol wasn't out of the question. You knew it was appropriate to call but anxiety prevented you from making such a bold move. The certainty that he had also seen the photos made your stomach curl and your throat tighten with a strangling choke. Judgment by strangers on social media was one thing, but you weren't ready for judgment from him. With a cigarette hung at your lips, you tapped a simple short message.

Are we still up for tonight?

The answer came a moment later. Equally short and simple, leaving you unable to decrypt his emotions.

Sure we are. I'll pick you up at seven.

The date wasn't looking promising. "A date," as he called it, under your pressure. "It didn't come from him, he invited me there as a friend, I was the one who pushed. Why did I push?" the thoughts piled up in your head. Part of you wanted to move as far away from the idea of a date as possible while the other was pulling toward it with uncontrollable force. After all, it was Jonathan who was always there for you when you needed him, it was Jonathan who answered your calls in the middle of the night, calmed your fears, listened to you, tried to help you, Jonathan not Bruce.

"Bruce busted out the hotel room door because I had a bad dream…"

You lit another cigarette and took a drag.

"Maybe Bruce would have done all this too if he knew? Bruce doesn't push, Bruce understands without words…he is so caring…so understanding…" you stared into space, "Bruce is completely out of my league. Unattainable. Why the fuck am I even thinking about this?" anger stirred within you again, "I wouldn't want to be here with anyone else right now…" you recalled his words and cursed viciously. "Would I even want to be with him? Constantly judged, constantly trending, zero privacy…." and even though your head said one thing your heart strongly disagreed, "oh for fuck sake!!! I have to come down to earth! Jonathan is here, Jonathan is just a regular good guy who likes me and cares about me!"

"Jonathan was in Arkham…" a quiet voice of doubt spoke up from the depths of your consciousness, "Jonathan was in Harleen's hidden office. He was looking for something. Batman was clearly suspicious of him. Batman…"

The thought was now completely unnecessary to you and yet once it appeared in your mind it surrounded all the others with a black cloak drowning them all out. You dimly looked out the window at the darkening sky. You could not help but wonder where he was now? Who was he? What was he doing? Was he chasing criminals? Or was he conducting some kind of investigation?

"Batman would know what to do and who to trust…"

*

Bruce checked his watch nervously, trying to form in his head a schedule for the evening. The gala was starting at eight o'clock in the evening, which would give him four hours of operation time. He could use it to re-analyze the results of the research boys had conducted, meet with Gordon which was well overdue, or take a breather and prepare for the gala. The autumn season provided the benefit of an earlier dusk, and the earlier dusk gave him the cover he needed. Sitting at the kitchen table, in Alfred's quiet company, he swiped mindlessly over the tablet screen while his thoughts kept drifting back to the scent of jasmine and vanilla that surrounded him with soothing warmth as they said their goodbyes.

"Pointless…" he muttered under his breath chastising himself for his indecisiveness.

"Young masters were very pleased with the results of the study and what they were able to achieve," Alfred's attentive ear caught the comment.

"That's not what I'm talking about, Alfred," Bruce corrected himself, "the lab results are truly insightful. They did a remarkable job! We may not know everything but we are one step closer. We have a correlation between the pills and most of the victims. The only thing we're missing is a connection with Juliet Cambell and her daughter…"

"Maybe it's not the same perpetrator after all?

"I'm sure these cases are connected," Bruce mused for a moment, "Damian told me that Jason was in the house. That he was helping with the investigation."

"Master Jason showed up at the house on Saturday morning," Alfred replied softly, "he looked healthy and had everything under control."

"Good…"

"Master Bruce, you are avoiding the problem and therefore its solution," irritation crept into Alfred's controlled voice, "why are you able to talk to each other when you are working and not quietly at home?"

"Al…"

"You raised that boy Bruce! You can't push the conflict aside hoping it will resolve itself! I know you care about him and he cares about you too. "

"I'm not hoping for that…" Bruce interrupted him gently, "Jason has to come to the point where he wants to talk about it himself. If I pressure him he will only lash out and all the progress we have made will be lost. I know something about this…" he smiled faintly remembering his own behavior, "Dick has his eye on him, Jason trusts him. We'll deal with the rest when Jason is ready for it," he locked the tablet screen, finished his coffee and got up from the table.

"I prepared the tuxedo as requested," Alfred stated abandoning his attempt to continue the topic.

"Thank you Al, but the tuxedo will come later."

"What are you planning?"

"I have to see Gordon."

*

The black cloudy sky over Gotham lit up with a bright bat-symbol as if in response to your contemplation. For a moment you couldn't help but feel as if Gotham heard you, listened to your thoughts, listened to your worries, and in response decided to lighten the darkness that surrounded you a bit. Batman was busy which could only mean growing terror. Still, the symbol did not bring fright as it did just a few months ago. It brought a sense of peace, of reassurance. Whatever was happening, Batman was there, whatever would happen next you had the transmitter he handed you. Whatever happened…

"Could I trust him?" the thought came suddenly, "I have to trust someone."

The scattered puzzle pieces you called memories slowly began to come together, and at their center stood Lex Luthor. He had done something to you, of that you were sure. Something that created gaps in your memory, something that created the nightmarish images that haunted you during therapy. Perhaps not by himself, perhaps not with his own hands, but you were convinced that on his orders. You were certain that you were not the only one.

How were you to discover something that had been erased from your memory. How were you supposed to go up against one of the most powerful men in the world? Compared to him, you were a nobody, powerless, hopeless, a mere insignificant voice that could be drowned out at the snap of a finger.

"Bruce is powerful when compared to him…" you quickly pushed that thought away from you. Bruce couldn't know, you couldn't tell him, as a matter of fact, you didn't even quite know what you were supposed to tell him.

The images in your head, the facts from reality slowly pieced together but still were not enough. You continued to be in darkness. You still didn't know. You could only guess. You needed help.

"What about Jonathan?" you wondered for a moment as you slipped the beautiful black gown over your shoulders.

An implacable, infinite blackness enveloped your thoughts and from its depths a quiet, low voice rang out, piercing through your every other thought. A voice that said, "be careful…something is not quite what it seems."

*

Gordon didn't have to wait long to meet his masked friend. Barely a few minutes after he turned on the signal Batman landed softly on the roof of the GCPD building. A stoic, black figure hidden under a black cape that seemed to form a unity with the shadows of the night.

"Did you teleport or what?" Gordon chuckled as he lit a cigarette.

"I was on my way," Batman replied in a low voice.

"Good to see you back in Gotham. Don't get me wrong, working with Nightwing and Robin is definitely more enjoyable than working with you, but still, I'm glad you're back. Honestly, I don't know how you and Nightwing…" he stopped his words in time to refrain from breaking an unwritten rule they had. He pretended not to know who Batman and his team were, and Batman pretended not to know that Gordon knew. "Right, anyways! This morning we apprehended a woman who, unless my hunch is wrong, is another victim of this maniac. Which means we have a living witness."

"She's alive?"

"Yes, but I don't know how useful it will be for us," Gordon sighed heavily and rubbed his tired eyes, "you'd better come with me and see for yourself." He put out his cigarette and headed inside the police station. Batman followed him.

His presence at the police station always generated extremely different reactions. Some sighed loudly in disbelief, smiling, even expressing gratification at his presence, others leaned out from behind their monitors, looked out from their offices to see him, others growled not-so-discreetly calling him a "freak," informing him that "this is a police building." He ignored them all as effectively as Gordon, who only occasionally would send an angry glance or issue a strict order. An order they reluctantly obeyed.

The door to the Holding Cells wing guarded by two heavy-armed police officers was located across from the other one, which Batman knew all too well. Maximum Security in the east wing was a place designated to hold Gotham's most dangerous criminals before their transport to Arkham, Blackgate or, in extreme cases, Belle Reve. Currently unguarded by anyone, it was empty, with a cell prepared for the one whom Batman planned to capture soon. At least that's what he hoped.

The officers wordlessly moved away from the door as soon as Batman and Gordon approached. The young policewoman, far too young, in Batman's opinion, to stand guard in such a place, smiled discreetly as if grateful for his presence.

"What's the status?" Gordon asked dryly.

"It's quiet, commissioner," an older police officer began the report, "the sedatives are still working."

That was all Gordon needed to know. Without a word, he opened the door and he and Batman walked into the wing.

"We had to give her a large dose of sedatives for her own safety," he began the explanation not waiting for Batman's question, "we got a call from civilians, a possible suicide on Penitence Bridge. According to the report, the woman was seen in several different places in Drescher, scared, lost, running away in panic from anyone who tried to approach her. When we arrived at the scene, paramedics tried to calm her down and detain her. Batman…" Gordon stopped in mid-sentence as they approached the cell, "she was petrified."

"Why isn't she in the hospital?"

"She's a witness," Gordon stated, "I'm sure that whatever induced the frightened state is the same substance that caused the death of Juliet Cambell and her daughter."

"Toxicology?"

"We have ruled out the use of drugs," Gordon reached into his pocket and pulled out a small vial of red liquid, "taken thirty minutes ago. I thought you might find it useful."

Batman tucked the vial into his belt pocket and silently opened the cell door to examine the woman more closely. She was lying unconscious, sedated, while her arms and legs were tied to the bed with straps.

"It's for her and our safety," Gordon commented as he followed with his eyes after Batman.

"Scratches, abrasions, tattered clothes on her arm, dirt and moisture on her knees and thighs…" Batman traced his eyes over her body, "she was running away. She must have fallen over more than once." He gently took her arm turning it towards himself, "the only punctures fresh, from the blood draw and sedation…" He ran his eyes over her neck, pushing back her hair in color "…the same as hers."

"History of mental illness? Treatment? Relationship to previous victims?" he asked Gordon not stopping his examination.

"Funny you should ask," Gordon sneered grimly, "our witness here is Sarah Walters, Jeremy Walters' older sister. So I can answer 'yes' to all three questions, the first two of which remain as conjecture. No recorded or documented psychiatric treatment."

Batman did not comment immediately. He gently lifted her eyelid and shone a flashlight into her eyes then took two steps back to examine her whole. Height, body build, hair color, eye color….

"Just like…" he suppressed the surging fear, "I don't believe in coincidences Gordon. Neither do you," he stated quietly, "I have reason to believe that all the victims with the exception of Juliet Cambell and the suicide from the bank robbery had contact with Doctor Jonathan Crane."

"The head of Eliot Memorial psychiatric ward?"

"Conjecture, I have no evidence to back it up. Yet."

"If it's true Sarah Walters may also have had contact with him…" Gordon looked at her unconscious body contemplating, "and if she indeed had it would mean that Juliet Cambell and her daughter…"

"Inform me if you learn anything," Batman instructed, "hopefully when she wakes up she'll be able to talk."

"Don't you want to be around for the interrogation?"

"I don't know if I'll be able to but I'll send someone," Batman stated, "I need to test a sample of her blood and start working on an antidote. I'm sure this won't be the last case like this we see."

***

Johnatan had it all figured out. Every last detail of the approaching evening carefully analyzed and planned including all possible unwanted deviations. He had been preparing for many weeks, working for days and nights, planning every single step, each and every move, carefully and with extreme care. As he put on his shirt and jacket, he ran in his mind through every point of the night ahead, as he tightened his tie he analyzed once again every uncertainty, on the way to his car he methodically ticked off every last checkbox of the plan. He had sacrificed too much, taken too many risks, the plan had to succeed and nothing could stand in his way.

*

At seven fifteen in the evening a black BMW parked on the side of the road in front of your building. You observed it for a while, hidden behind a curtain, waiting for the driver, who should have gotten out of the car, but did not. Instead, a short message popped up on your phone screen.

I'm waiting downstairs.

Anxiety, suspicion, suddenly arose, seemingly without reason. You quickly pushed away the unwanted thoughts, which immediately began to compare this situation with the one from two days ago. This didn't seem right. You took one last glimpse at your reflection in the mirror, brought the most charming smile to your face, and with the intention of enjoying the evening once again left your apartment.

Yet, with each stair down, the positive thoughts seemed to disappear. With each stair, they grew heavier and more anxious. Only three days ago, you were impatient to get an answer to the question that tormented you and brought you no peace. Now, even though your excited heart was beating restlessly, thoughts and instinct seemed to repress it, seemed to take over, to drive out the excitement to replace it with anxiety. Now, you regretted asking the question.

"Nothing happened, though," you tried to explain to yourself, "what am I even thinking about?" you tried to argue. And yet, two and a half days spent in the company of Bruce had changed so much. Just two days were enough for you to see that maybe the world and life didn't always have to be so dark.

*

Jonathan watched her as she left the building. Beautiful, elegant, dressed in black satin and lace that seemed to follow her like a shadow of the night itself. To his eyes she was like a mistress of darkness, powerful without knowing it, tempting without trying, dangerous if she wanted to be, fascinating. He saw it all in her, behind the facade of uncertainty, behind the guise of innocence, with the feigned persona behind which she so carefully tried to hide. He saw it in her eyes when anger ignited her blood, he saw it in her gestures when rage overwhelmed her thoughts, he heard it in her unspoken words when she pushed hard to contain her hatred. He saw it all and wished to get it out of her. But she played her part to perfection. The grace with which she walked down the stairs gently lifting her dress, the look that glanced from under her windswept hair, made a part of him feel like turning back. To take her far away from here, to lock her away from the world, to keep her only to himself. As for the smell with which his car filled as soon as she closed the door behind her, made him eager to rip off her dress and devour her in a rapture of passion. He couldn't. He had given up too much already, risked too much, he couldn't back down.

"Was it for me that you dressed up like that?" he smirked the moment their eyes finally met.

"You said it was a formal gala to which Gotham's scientific elite was invited. I didn't want to stand out from the crowd," sharp as ever, she refused to be embarrassed.

"You chose the wrong dress, then," he swept his eyes over her shamelessly.

"Is it too much?"

"Do you really care?"

"A bit," she smiled that innocent smile of hers, the one he thought didn't quite fit her, then added, "but now it's probably too late to change. So I'll choose to take it as a compliment and bear the consequences of my decisions."

"And rightly so," he smiled slyly and turned on the engine, "I hope you have some energy left after a busy weekend in Metropolis. It's going to be a very interesting evening."

*

In the cool cave below Wayne Manor, everyone had gathered, for it was not often that Bruce called for a briefing before a patrol. Everyone suit up, everyone ready to take on the task that would be given to them. They were a team, they worked as a team, but he had the final word. Bruce was the only one not wearing a suit. Dressed in an elegant black tuxedo, he stood in front of the computer, as if afraid of the creases that sitting in the chair would inevitably cause. He silently stared at the computer screen and waited for the conversations to finally quiet down so he could begin.

"Sarah Walters, the victim restrained this morning," he began quietly, displaying the case file on the computer, "the thirteenth victim, of a psychopath we have so far been unable to identify or apprehend," a long pause brought a silent tension to the team, "thirteen victims. Thirteen unclosed cases, between which the connections are thin."

"We will find him," Dick tried to defuse the tension. To no avail.

"As Dick has surely managed to tell you, I have reason to believe that Doctor Jonathan Crane is involved in this case," Bruce continued, "I don't know to what extent."

"Where did this supposition come from? Crane is a respected psychiatrist, highly regarded in his field," Barbara interjected the question, "I did some research on him. An impressive career, outstanding achievements, numerous scientific publications."

"On what subject?" Bruce asked.

"Phobias, PTSD, panic disorders, substance-induced anxiety disorder…" she stopped listing, "I see your point."

"Even you couldn't link it to the attacks without solid evidence," Jason muttered. He remained at a distance the entire time but listened intently.

"True," Bruce only reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bottle of green pills, "exactly the same ones Tim found in Marc Jacobs' house. You all know the results of the analysis."

"They found them with the victim?" Tim asked, "the same composition, the same chemical compounds?"

"The same composition. Exactly the same pills," Bruce replied evasively giving himself a chance to avoid answering questions he didn't want to answer, "the pills connect unquestionably to nine of the thirteen victims. But given the nature of the latter, the conclusions are self-evident. The perpetrator is the same. Only his methods are evolving."

"He's just getting started…" Barbara sighed quietly.

"We'll stop him before he starts," Dick's hand twitched as if he wanted to embrace her and provide comfort.

"Batgirl," Bruce turned to her, "the victim is currently being sedated in police custody. You and Red Hood will interview her as soon as she wakes up. Commissioner Gordon will keep us informed."

"Bruce…" Barbara began, trying to back away from a mission that required her to work in close contact with her own father. Both of them pretended to have no idea about her costumed alter ego; she didn't want to deliberately strain their unspoken agreement.

"I need you on this one," Bruce interrupted her, "we don't know what she went through or what happened to her. Your sensitivity and gentle approach is invaluable here."

Barbara only nodded, observing Dick's surprised reaction to unusual paring out of the corner of her eye. Bruce noticed it too but ignored it and continued.

"Red Robin," he turned to Tim, "to you and Damian I entrust the city partol. If anything happens, anything that would require our involvement, don't try to prove something to yourselves."

"You got this," they both nodded.

"I'll take care of Crane."

"What about me?" Dick finally asked, " you want me on computer duty?"

"You need a change of clothes," Bruce smirked mischievously, "I believe you'll find a tuxedo prepared in your bedroom."

"You shitting me?! That is so not fair! Why do I have to go!" a grimace of disappointment twisted his face.

"I believe it is your turn," Tim pointed out with a wicked grin on his face.

"Not true! Now it's Damian's turn!"

"You wish!" Damian snorted, laughing as well, "I was forced to the Charity Ball in July!"

"Hood?!" he looked desperately at his brother.

"Forget it," Jason huffed.

"Barbs?"

"My talents are needed elsewhere," she smiled innocently, "besides, your agreements on public appearances don't apply to me," she rightly pointed out.

"Come on, Bruce!!! I hate this stuff!"

"Navy blue as far as I could see was Alfred's choice."

"But I'm already suited up!"

"You have 30 minutes to change and be ready to go," Bruce's tone ended the discussion, "everyone knows what to do. We have an intense night ahead of us," he turned away from them, took his jacket from the back of his chair getting ready to leave, but an unwanted question stopped him in mid-motion.

"You still haven't told us where you found the pills and what led you to put Crane in connection with the case," Jason pointed out. Everyone thought the same thing, but they knew Bruce well enough to know that if he's not talking about something, questions won't change it.

Bruce only looked at Jason with a stone face, and only his gaze betrayed a shadow of emotion. Conflict fought within him like a storm, an instant analysis of the situation, an immediate conclusion, a firm decision followed by hanging the jacket back on the chair and settling heavily in the armchair.

"I found them in Y/N's possession," he replied in a stern voice measuring himself against Jason's softening gaze, "I'm also convinced that the nightmare she experienced on Friday night was induced by them," perplexed by his sincerity everyone remained silent, only Jason dared to ask further.

"She again," he scoffed quietly, "I'm beginning to think that problems find her on their own. Maybe she told you how she came into their possession?"

"She did," Bruce had no intention of lying. He might sometimes deliberately omit certain things but when asked directly, he never lied. That's not what he taught them. "I don't know the details, and I haven't insisted on them, but it turns out that Doctor Crane has been helping her for some time. She didn't say explicitly that she got it from him, but the conclusion seems logical."

"It makes sense," Jason nodded in agreement, his voice sounding much softer than it did moments ago, "will you tell us what happened in Metropolis? You can skip the details."

And so he did.

***

Long years ago, Bruce established a rule in the family. Once in a while, each of the boys appeared with him in public at formal events. This routine was intended primarily, to maintain their secret identity, but also to maintain the public image of both Bruce and his sons. Over time, the family grew and their public presence rotated, with the exception of two events a year, the Wayne Foundation Christmas Gala and his birthday party at which they all usually appeared. One of the many measures they used to keep their double life a secret, admittedly who would have guessed that the obscenely wealthy CEO of Wayne Enterprises and his sons spent their nights as masked crime fighting vigilantes in Gotham.

Dick understood the established rule very well and over the years had grown accustomed to his role in the spotlight, although that didn't change the fact that he hated it more than a drenched suit on a winter night. Although he retained his family name, Gotham's elite treated him as Wayne and observed him with the expectations and judgment the name carried. Still, years of practice, learned mechanisms that came as easily to him as a quadruple backflip, made him bury his resentment deep in the pocket of his navy blue tuxedo, bringing to his face the charming smile that accompanied polite answers to all unsolicited questions.

"Yes, I graduated law from Hudson University and did an additional major in psychology at GU," he answered politely when asked by someone whose name he should remember.

"Oh I currently live in Blüdhaven but it's hard to stay away from Gotham for long. This is my home. So I divide my time a little here and a little here," he smiled brightly.

"Children! Oh no no no no… maybe one day," he attempted to contain his amusement pretending to sip champagne.

"To be honest, I don't have an opinion on the direction Wayne Tech is taking. These are matters that my younger brother Tim is much more interested in," he retreated from the uncomfortable conversation.

Their presence has always sparked general interest. No matter how many years passed, no matter how many events they appeared at, no matter how many times he answered the same question, wherever Bruce was, interest followed. However, this time, to Dick's undisguised delight, most of the attention was focused entirely on Bruce. Photos from TechX circulated the Internet at lightning speed, and Gotham's high class women didn't wait long to surround him with the intention of extracting information from him. It may have been a scientific society Gala designed to celebrate the most brilliant minds, the most outstanding achievements, and the hardest work, but underneath every Gala was a social event where the elite mingled, exchanged gossip, drank, danced, and enjoyed a rich, privileged life.

"If they keep obsessing over you like this you'll never make it to Crane," Dick grinned when he finally managed to drag Bruce away under a contrived pretext, "I can't remember the last time you made such a social fuss."

"Natascha Patenko," Bruce muttered letting his socialite mask drop for a moment.

"Ah yes! Taking the entire Russian ballet on a cruise the day before a performance has that effect!"

"Do you see Crane anywhere?" Bruce scanned through the guests seated at lavishly set tables shimmering with silverware and crystals, swept his eyes around the bar area where the most expensive spirits poured endlessly, peered through the twirling couples on the dance floor.

"You're worried about her," Dick stated completely ignoring Bruce's question.

"He should be here."

"She gives the impression of a smart woman, she can handle a little heat."

"You said he was on the invite list."

"Besides, the subject will die down soon. The buzz will last two weeks tops, then they'll move on to the new hot gossip."

"Dick!" Bruce finally pulled his gaze away from the crowd and looked at him angrily, "we have work to do."

"Hey, I'm just trying to help!"

"Then focus on Crane," his eyes darkened.

"There he is!" Dick's glance ran over Bruce's shoulder straight toward one of the tables, "holy shit…"

*

Jonathan knew you were sure of it. You could see it in the way he surreptitiously scanned his surroundings, in the tone of his voice, in the way the green of his eyes shone angrily every time you smiled kindly at someone. A mixture of anger and possessiveness simmered beneath the surface of his controlled demeanor.

"Are you looking for someone?" you asked softly when his glance once again traveled past you.

"No, why?"

"You're looking around all the time," you pointed out, "so you're either looking for someone or avoiding me."

"Why would I avoid you?" he scoffed, "we're here together. We have a beautiful evening ahead of us. Maybe not as beautiful as the ones you spent in Metropolis, but beautiful nonetheless."

"If you have something to tell me then tell me," you prompted gently, trying to control the anger that was also rising in you.

"If I had something to tell you, I would tell you."

"I can see that you are angry."

"Angry?" the green eyes blazed angrily, "angry? No. I'm not angry. Disappointed more."

"Jonathan…"

"There is nothing to talk about Y/N," he interrupted you, "you are an adult, a free woman who makes her own decisions. One of them was the decision not to tell me you were going to Metropolis with Bruce Wayne."

"I work for him, that was…" you didn't want to explain yourself but you couldn't leave it at that

"If you're about to tell me it was a business trip then save it," he interrupted you again, "I don't resent the fact that you went with him. As I said, your life, your decisions. However, I do resent the fact that you chose not to tell me. That you concealed this detail."

"And what does it matter!" you chuckled in a loud whisper, blessing the orchestra that drowned your conversation.

"It makes me wonder…" he leaned over the table reducing the distance between you, "how many things have you concealed, thinking they don't matter. How many details you left out, how many threads you considered irrelevant. It seems that lies come so easily to you. You pretend to be open, and you lie incessantly."

"Don't psychoanalyze me," you snarled annoyed.

"Can't help it," he smirked but it wasn't a charming smile, "we're talking about trust, I'm offering you my time, attention, support both professionally and privately, help, and you can't bring yourself to be honest.

"And now you are guilt-tripping me…"

"That's how you perceive it," he replied immediately, "I'm pointing out the facts to you. You perceive them as guilt tripping which only means that your subconscious sees it that way."

"I don't!" you denied, "there is no guilty conscience. I had a wonderful time in Metropolis and I have absolutely nothing to regret. It's not my fault that you suddenly decided to act like a jealous boyfriend!"

"Do not project your desires onto my behavior," green glowed dangerously, "I'm not talking about us just the fact that you lie all the time."

"Bitch please," you scoffed, "two days ago you couldn't give me an answer as to what is between us, and now that you saw me in the company of Bruce you suddenly try to change the whole narrative. Maybe if you had been open with me instead of playing mind games we wouldn't be having this conversation now!"

"I'm not playing mind games with you."

"Maybe my head is fucked but I am not stupid!" you snapped, "what was in those pills that you gave me?!" without thinking you shot the question catching him off guard.

"Where did that came from!" he frowned.

"What was in those pills?" you repeated the question, "I may not be telling you everything but I trusted you. I didn't question anything. So answer me."

"A mixture of herbs to calm your nerves and sleep peacefully," he replied calmly.

"If that's so, then why did I have nightmares because of them?" you quipped, "horrible nightmares from which I couldn't wake up! Nightmares as intense almost as those visions during the last therapy?"

"Side effect," he replied gently placing his hand on yours, "why didn't you tell me earlier? Another thing you withheld from me. Why?" you didn't answer so he continued, "if you had told me earlier that you had such a reaction I would have reacted right away. You chose not to, by doing so you, harming only yourself."

"I'm sorry…"

"Don't apologize to me," he smiled softly, "but promise me please, truly promise that you will stop hiding things from me. Lies and secrets are not a good foundation for building a relationship."

"You meant to say friendship," you smirked.

"I know what I wanted to say."

*

Bruce knew he should keep his distance. He knew that any move he made toward her was the worst possible idea. He could picture every feasible, most probable, far-reaching outcome of his actions. He knew the answer to every if and when. Every possible scenario. He could see every worst possible future. Violence, pain, suffering, shock, disappointment, death, blood on his hands. He could see them all and each of them separately as they projected like a movie tape before his open eyes, intercut frame after frame by the image of his hand over hers. And yet, despite all his knowledge, experience and certainty that he knew, he couldn't find within himself the answer to one question. "What if I'm wrong."

"Stay here," he turned quietly to Dick without taking his eyes off Y/N and Crane. Something didn't sit right with him. Every time Y/N looked away, Crane glanced at his watch or phone screen, discreetly yet nervously, only to return to the conversation a split second later. "Watch him from a distance," he ordered.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm about to find out if I'm wrong."

As he approached them with a calm, confident step, he saw how close they were to each other. Closer than he expected. He saw the heated conversation, the angry glances, the cynical smiles. Crane attacked, subtly, stealthily, while she defended herself, only to boldly attack a moment later, directly, without warning. He saw anger in her eyes and surprise in his. He saw the moment when surprise turned into calculated, measured concern. He saw the movement of his lips and understood the words without having to hear them. He was manipulating her. So skillfully that she succumbed to him unaware of his tactics. Her eyes softened with every lie he uttered, her face brightened with every minute in which his hand rested on hers. Her anger gave way to humility, her attack turned into an apology, as Crane continued to weave his manipulations. With each step toward them, the anger grew stronger within him. Anger at the scene he was observing. Anger at her for not realizing the danger she was in. Anger at the fact that by some miracle she was always in the middle of danger. Anger at himself for not inviting her here sooner, for failing to predict this scenario. The anger burned stronger and stronger, with each passing moment fueled by a new emotion, jealousy.

Fragments of a hushed conversation began to reach his ears. The scent of her perfume reached his senses when she glanced up at him and for a moment their eyes met. For a split second, the world seemed to stop. Her eyes shone brightly caught in his while her face lit up with a sincere smile as she slipped her hand out of Crane's grasp.

"Bruce!" she greeted him brightly and for a brief moment he indulged the idea of her being naturally brilliant at this game which, he called life.

"Y/N! Fancy that!" he greeted her, loudly announcing his presence.

"Fancy that…" she repeated with a hint of disbelief in her voice, "I actually should expect you to be here. After all, the gala is named after your family."

"There's no denying it," he replied with a smile unsure of whether she saw through the mask of socialite he had adopted, "Thomas Wayne was my father."

"A renowned surgeon in scientific circles and to the people of Gotham a philanthropist and benefactor," Crane inserted himself into the conversation, "to this day everyone remembers and appreciates his contributions to the city Mister Wayne."

"Ah Bruce, meet Jonathan Crane," although it wasn't necessary Y/N maintained courtesy, "Jonathan, Bruce Wayne."

"It's hard not to know who you are," Crane joked dryly as he shook his hand, "Y/N has told me all about you."

"I certainly hope not," Bruce replied in a vague tone. "So let's put a couple tables together!" it sounded more like a statement than a suggestion.

"I'm not sure they'll let us," Crane expressed his doubt.

"Oh they should," Bruce smirked confidently, "I own the place."

It took only one hand gesture, one look, and reality once again shifted to match Bruce Wayne's will.

"So, Doctor Crane, Y/N said a lot of good things about you," Bruce began the conversation as he sat down nonchalantly in a chair and accepted a glass of whiskey from the waiter, "and I, for my part, have also heard and read nothing but positives. Your work on fear control was particularly interesting."

"Are you interested in psychiatry Mister Wayne?" Crane asked startled.

"Not particularly, but as a board member granting annual research funds, I have come across your work once or twice," Bruce admitted casually, "besides, my son Richard studied psychology at Gotham University. You studied there too, didn't you?"

"That's true," Crane nodded, "I spent the best years of my youth there."

"And if my memory doesn't fail me you also taught for a short time."

"That's also true."

"Why aren't you teaching anymore? Working with young people and tempering their bright minds was not to your liking?"

"We had differences of opinion with some professors about the direction of the research I was doing," Crane replied dryly, "you know a lot for a man who is not interested in psychiatry," the change in his tone of voice did not escape Bruce's attention.

"The Wayne Foundation provides annual grants to both Gotham University and Mercy General, Eliot Memorial Hospitals and minor clinics," Bruce countered with a touch of well-balanced arrogance, "I like to know where that money is going."

"You are continuing your father's legacy," Crane commented, "your father was friends with Roger Elliot, after whom the hospital was named, wasn't he?"

"Friend is a big word. They were both surgeons and worked together. But that was a long time ago."

"Yes, it's tragic what happened to them," Bruce saw through Crane's artificial sympathy, "to both of them. It's truly terrible what happens to good people in Gotham."

"We all know Gotham is a dangerous city. But let's hope it doesn't stay that way."

"Oh yeah! I read about the WayneTech plans you announced on TechX! Impressive!"

"News travels fast," Bruce chuckled and, pretending to reach for his phone, discreetly glanced at Y/N. She looked upset and her usually sparkling eyes clouded with sadness.

"Why the sudden interest in the city's security?" Crane asked, "I know you do a lot for this city, but as you. And here all of a sudden such a big development for the company."

"Oh, it was Y/N who came up with the whole project!" Bruce replied with his businesslike smile, "but I'm sure you already knew that. I couldn't help but support such a thoughtful and well-planned initiative!"

"If it all looks as beautiful as you presented it perhaps the city will stop relying on freaks in capes."

"Could it be that you have no sympathy for Batman and the rest?"

"With all the supposed good they do for the city I think their place is in Arkham. In the padded cells next to those they fight," Crane replied without hesitation.

"Strong words Doctor. I think many would disagree with your diagnosis."

"Batman is a firefighter and arsonist in one," Crane didn't back down, "his very presence creates the conditions for the rise of criminals like the Joker, the Riddler, Two Face, or the new one who surfaced recently, whoever he is. If I were the head of Arkham Asylum I would forbid him from entering the premises and force the police to apprehend and psychoanalyze him."

"You would psychoanalyze everyone!" Y/N playfully chuckled, "I think that's an occupational deviation."

"Everyone has one," Bruce also laughed, "why aren't you the head of Arkham? With your reputation, that shouldn't be a problem."

"Elliot Memorial had greater needs," Crane replied warily, ignoring the incoming call and tucking the phone into his jacket pocket.

"I may not have lived in Gotham for long but I think your diagnosis is way too harsh Jonathan," Y/N continued, "Batman does so much good for the city."

"You're letting your own feelings overshadow rational thinking," Crane countered gently but with firmness.

"I don't think there's anything surprising about it, since he saved my life," seeing Crane's puzzled look she added, "Bruce knows."

"Yes, Y/N demonstrated immense honesty, respect for the work ethic that governs WayneTech, and trust in the company when she explained the unusual medical bills."

"He is risking his own life to help those who need it," she continued.

"That's what the police and emergency services are for," Crane quipped.

"The police also have their limitations," she continued, "it only took me a few days to see how powerless they are against the Joker."

"If there was no Batman there would be no others like him," the light of the screen broke through the blackness of the fabric.

"If there was no Batman there wouldn't be me either," she threw in a final argument, "this discussion is pointless! It's like debating the origin of the egg and the chicken!" she added wryly after a moment, "besides, your phone is ringing. Why don't you answer it?"

"Yes, sorry. It's so annoying," Crane once again reached into his pocket and glanced at the phone screen, "it's one of my patients. I have to answer it, excuse me for a moment."

With a hastened step, Crane walked away and silence fell around the table, broken only by the sounds of violin, cello and piano. An orchestra stationed at the head of the room was playing a beautiful melody to the many couples who twirled on the marble dance floor.

"I didn't think 'soon' would come so soon," she finally smirked at him, "I thought I wouldn't see you for at least a few days."

"Sorry to disappoint," he murmured with a spark of satisfaction shining in his eyes, "I see you've grown sad, I hope not because of something I said."

"No," she replied in a half whisper and took a sip of champagne, "it's because of what Jonathan said. I don't know why the hell he brought up such a distant past. His comment was unnecessary. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize for words spoken by someone else," she was the only one who had never so far mentioned a story that all of Gotham knew and Bruce couldn't help but wonder why.

"I feel obligated. I am his plus one today."

"Forgive me for being blunt, but I take it Doctor Crane is the friend you mentioned?" Bruce inquired.

"Yes…" she replied quietly, "although I'm increasingly wondering if friend is the right word," she added in reflection and gazed again at the dancing couples.

All shades of gold, silver, maroon and blue swirled in the soft light trickling down from a crystal chandelier hung by the marble ceiling. Couples twirled and swooned to the accompaniment of a beautiful waltz led by talented violinists. Seamlessly and rhythmically as if at a fairy tale ball, the gowns rose and fell, flowing in waves with each turn. He observed her in silence. Her subtle smile wandering on her dreamy face, the gleam of delight in her eyes, her finger gently tapping on the exposed knee that slid out of the high slit. He wondered if she was aware of her beauty, if, seeing herself in the mirror, she could appreciate how brightly her skin shone under the black lace that adorned her shoulders, if she could see the magic he saw. Did she know? His heart ached as she closed her eyes delighting in the music. Could he allow himself to be selfish even if only for a moment?

"Beautiful…" he said in a barely audible whisper unable to tear his eyes away from her.

"Beautiful that's true…" she replied with her eyes still closed, "classical music, especially played live by an orchestra…" she fell silent when the pianist began a slow overture, "there is magic in it."

"I was not talking about music…." her eyes opened in bewilderment while a soft blush came to her cheeks, "although as an obscenely rich snob, I appreciate the beauty of classical music," he added provoking her hearty laughter.

"How long are you going to tease me like this?" she asked, drowning her gaze in his, "what do I have to do to get you to finally forgive me for this embarrassing slip-up."

"Dance with me," his eyes darkened, and although he could see that she wanted to escape with hers, she didn't.

"This?" she chuckled, pointing discreetly toward the dance floor, " Mister Wayne, I don't do waltz. So please forgive me but I'll spare myself another embarrassment."

Bruce only rose from his chair, walked around the table to stand in front of her, and extended his hand.

"Dance with me," he repeated, deepening his gaze.

"I can't…" she whispered but her eyes smirked, "marble and heels don't seem to be safe."

"Take my hand and trust me," he did not lower his hand, "I will not let you fall."

She hesitated. For a moment, for a split second, there was uncertainty in her eyes which disappeared immediately. She smiled brightly, took his hand, and let herself be led towards the dancing floor.

*

Your heart was pounding frantically, threatening to burst out of your chest as Bruce took your hand and, holding it slightly outstretched in the air, led you to the dancing floor. Before your eyes, reality shifted once again to match his presence as the dancing couples moved aside creating space for you. But he seemed not to notice. With his eyes fixed on you, he placed one hand on your back and closed the other on yours.

"You forget to breathe," he whispered pulling you closer to him, "forget about them. They don't matter."

"They stare…" you whispered wandering with your eyes.

"So do I," he pulled you closer as if to eliminate the distance between you and sank his gaze into your eyes. You smiled, put your hand on his shoulder, and flowed.

As if carried by the tangible sounds of music, by the light and the electrifying air that seemed to gather between you, you drifted. Gently and rhythmically to the sound of the music, one-two-three, one-two-three, you spun and the world swirled around you dissolved into a meaningless background as you sank into the ocean of his eyes. They stared at you incessantly, calm and stormy at once, inviting and dangerous, reflecting the brilliance of the crystals like the surface of the water reflects the stars scattered across the night sky. He smiled and you forgot to breathe again. His hand traveled higher on your back as if he longed to feel you whole, to remove the little distance that dancing had created between you, which he would not allow.

"You trust me?" he whispered quietly. You nodded only to break away from him a moment later, twirl in place, and return straight into his arms.

"What are you doing?" you asked feeling his hand back on your bare skin.

"I'm dancing with you," he smirked then pushed you away from him again, spun you in place and drew you back. The world swirled with colors all over again. One-two-three, the piano gave a rhythm when the violin made you twirl.

"Don't tease," you corrected your hand that landed closer to his neck.

"But when teasing with you comes so easily," he moved his hand dangerously low across your back. A shiver ran down your spine.

"Are you having fun Mister Wayne?" you flicked your eyes surprised.

"I do," he replied with shameless satisfaction, "I believe you do too Miss Y/L/N." He turned and the world swirled again in colors and lights only to return with the warmth of his chest against yours, with the touch of his hand firmly on your back, in a captivating smile. With each passing note, all the pretenses he had kept over the weekend disappeared, escaped with each exchanged breath, faded with each deepening glance.

"I have to admit that this is not quite how I imagined this weekend," you moved your hand up over his shoulder toward the back of his neck.

"And how did you imagine it?" the whisper of his words danced over your skin.

"Less magical…" he released you from his embrace again. You twirled and returned to his arms to finally eliminate the remnants of the space that separated you.

"If you were worried before about them staring then you'd better not look around," he whispered in your ear, pressing his cheek against yours. The scent of his perfume swirled through your senses.

"I won't," you whispered closing your eyes, "they won't ruin my princess moment," a low chuckle sounded deep within his chest.

"Princess moment," the touch of a smile imprinted itself on your skin, "damn…you smell incredible."

"Stop…" you didn't open your eyes, "whatever you are doing, stop." The touch disappeared, the world swirled, the closeness returned, along with the ocean in which you wanted to sink.

"Why should I stop?" a new feeling resonated in his deep husky voice as the ocean stormed with desire.

"I'm a big girl, I don't believe in fairy tales," your mind believed it, but your instinct screamed the opposite, "in a second our dance will be over, the moment will disappear, the gala will come to an end and with the rising sun the fairy tale will vanish with the return of reality."

"Since when are princesses so cynical?"

"Realistic," you corrected him, "and I'm not a princess."

"Cynical," he repeated as his hand wandered up your back again, "what if…"

"What if what?" you asked almost feeling the touch of his lips on yours.

"What if we took that risk…" his words danced on your lips, "what would happen if we…" he didn't finish. The unspoken words died in your breath, faded into touch, turned into a dance of craving lips as the last space separating you disappeared. His kiss deep, yearning, passionate took away the remnants of doubts that only moments ago spoke uncertain words. Beneath your closed eyes, the world ignited with desire as your hand found its place on the back of his neck drawing him closer. Your lips danced on his, your breaths became one as you lost yourself in a magical moment. The world stopped. Reality once again yielded to his will.

*

In the middle of the ballroom, a feeling blossomed in the glimmer of silvery light diffused by hundreds of crystals. He, dressed in a black tuxedo, tall, handsome, charming, known by all. She, dressed in a beautiful black gown, shorter by a head, elegant, graceful, enchanting, known by no one. They, joined in a kiss, suspended in a half-step, between a twirl and a turn, paused in a dance that just a moment ago everyone admired. A feeling they did not want to hide. Desire culminated in a passionate kiss. They indulged in the moment while others watched them intently.

Some, with a heartfelt smile, recalled a time when they themselves were in the same place.

Others with undisguised envy, wishing they could be them.

Others with indignation or amusement, shaking their heads in disbelief at the sight of a scene like this in an elegant society.

Someone muttered words of disdain.

Someone else sighed in delight.

Someone else followed their example.

Dick only took out his phone and discreetly took a picture. Warmth spread through him, a beaming smile lit up his face as he tapped the message in a quick motion. "Capture THIS!" two words, one picture, sent only to two people, Barbara and Alfred. A quickly calculated move directed at the best possible outcome. For one needed a bit of joy, and the other needed a warning of impending chaos in the family. Both, on the other hand, were necessary for him to protect Bruce from self-sabotage.

Dick was happy. For a moment, he too forgot the task, forgot the mission. He lost sight of the goal only for a moment however the moment was enough.

On the opposite side of the room among the guests, Jonathan Crane was also observing the fairytale scene, but there was no jealousy, contempt or mockery in his eyes. There was nothing. Without breaking his dead stare, he took his phone out of his pocket, dialed a number and, after just one beep, gave the command.

"Do it."

Two words, one decision, that's all it took to unleash chaos.

*

Scream. A terrifying female scream tore through the music paralyzing all the guests. But the paralysis didn't last long. A loud thud followed by the sound of shattering glass, cracking wood, the rumble of tumbling tables and chairs, the sounds of panic. People backing away in fear deeper into the room, grasping each other's hands, trying to hide in the crowd. It only took a few seconds for all the magic of the charming evening to shatter into pieces. Bruce instinctively grabbed Y/N's by the hand and, taking a step in front of her, hid it behind him. He scanned the crowd instantly, swept his eyes over the terrified faces, eyes filling with tears, looking for Dick and the source of the danger. One glance, a discreet nod, and Dick disappeared from his sight. The danger did not keep him waiting for long. A mocking, maniacal laughter echoed around the room freezing people's blood in their veins.

"No, no please, don't interrupt yourselves! Musicians play!" with a dancing step Joker entered between the crowd wielding a knife in his hand. Amused Harley Quinn followed him.

"I wanna dance puddin! Let's dance!" she asked playfully jumping from one foot to another.

"Now now, pumpkin, remember what we came here for," Joker waved the knife in Harley's direction in a gesture bordering on threatening, "but we could definitely use some music! Orchestra play!!!" he exclaimed towards the band but none of the musicians picked up their instruments, "no one has respect these days," he muttered to himself.

Bruce followed his steps, every little movement, every slightest gesture. He had no possibility of moving away from the crowd, no way out. Every exit was blocked by a shotgun-wielding henchman. His mind ran through all the scenarios, calculated all the possibilities trying to formulate a plan that didn't exist, while Y/N's warm hand clenched tightly in his own made him realize that there was nothing he could do. He had to wait.

"What do you want!" a man shouted from the crowd.

"Finally! I'm glad you asked!" Joker replied theatrically bowing to the man, "I want the music to play!!!" he shouted and when the answer did not come he pulled out his gun and fired a single, precise shot. The cellist fell inertly to the ground into a growing blood stain. "This is how it's going to be! I will ask the questions and all of you will politely answer," he walked closer to the man, grinding the knife toward his throat, "capiche?" the man only nodded. "Fantastic!!!" he exclaimed gleefully, "then now after we've said our good evenings, can someone tell me where my toxins are!?" He circled the crowd, directing the knife to each person one by one, "anyone? Maybe you can tell me?" he pointed the knife at the director of Gotham Mercy Hospital. "I'm taking a short vacation at my favorite resort and when I return my toxins are gone! Maybe you know something?" he waved the knife in front of the Gotham Diagnostic Laboratories representative's face. No one answered. "Someone among you must know something!" everyone remained silent as they measured themselves against the clown one by one, praying that they wouldn't be the next victim. "Someone took them and is unleashing this wonderful terror on the city and I want to know who!" the scientist from S.T.A.R Labs scowled when Joker ran his hand over her face. "As much as I enjoy seeing Batman failing miserably I can't stand outrageous, disgusting theft!" he continued theatrically gesturing. "Would you agree with me that theft is an outrageous crime?" snapped one of the women who only nodded desperately and tears streamed down her cheeks. "A horrible, horrible crime! And do you know what the best part is?" he asked the people around then aimed his gun at the space and fired. A huge flower vase shattered into pieces and a small metal ball rolled on the ground. The Joker picked it up and, with a grin on his face, pretended to inhale the toxin trapped inside. "This stuff is fantastic! Truly makes you go mad!" he laughed and placed the ball into Gotham University professor, "he must really dislike you guys," he added, grinning, "he wanted to gas you all! Can you imagine?! Outrageous! But not as outrageous as the fact that he stole from me! So, now that I have saved your fragile minds from a trip to the crazy side I expect your cooperation. Who stole my toxins!" he grabbed a Strader Pharmaceuticals board member violently by the jacket, "I'm sure you'll know. Where are my toxins?"

"I don't like him, sweetie. His giving you a stinky eye," Harley measured the man with a disdainful glance.

"He does?" Joker pulled the man closer to him, "are you giving me a stinky eye?"

"No, I'm not, I'm not…" the man replied in a pleading tone.

"Harl, I think you are right!!! He does give me a stinky eye!" the blade shone against the man's face.

Bruce watched everything as if in slow motion while his mind desperately searched for a way to protect the guests. However, cool logic kept his nerves under control. Five exits, five shotguns, the Joker had a knife and a .44 Magnum with 8 rounds magazine capacity, Harley had a baseball bat resting on her shoulder and a Chiappa rhino 60ds by her side, which meant another six bullets.

"I don't like it puddin'! He has no respect!

"You are right pumpkin pie!" Joker pulled a man out of the crowd and threw him against the ground right at Harley's feet, "there, he is all yours!"

He had to stay calm for a little longer. Nightwing will fall through the ceiling window in a moment, followed by Robin and Red Robin. He will have to get out of her sight. He will have to quickly order her to run away, order Nightwing to lead her outside. His suit was hidden in the car. She will look for him. He will have to lie.

"Stop that!" Y/N's hand yanked violently as Crane stepped forward from the crowd, "leave him alone!"

"Why? Do you want me to play with you instead?" Harley let go of the man directing her attention to Crane.

"These people don't know anything, can't you see that?"

"But it's so much fun to see them squirm!" facing Crane Harley crooked her fierce head, "but you ain't scared, ain't ya Doctor Crane?" she placed the baseball bat on the ground and looked defiantly at him, "nah, you like good old scares!"

Y/N's hand yanked again in Bruce's grasp, trying to break free. He turned to her, looked at her but there was no fear or apprehension in her eyes. Only anger.

"There's nothing you can do," he whispered looking at her intensely, "on the opposite wall, in the upper right and left corner you'll see a discreet green blinking light," she followed his words with her eyes, "it's a silent alarm. Someone has set it off. The police is on the way."

"She's my friend," she replied quietly, "she'll listen to me."

"Y/N stay calm," he instructed but the hollow sound of a thump shattered his words. Crane lay curled up on the floor, his head shielded by his hands. Y/N's hand slipped from his. A split second, a moment of distraction, and she ran out into the middle of the room.

"Harley!!! Enough!" she shouted. It was enough to distract them. Harley jumped up happily at the sight of her friend and moved immediately in her direction. But the Joker was first.

"Oh hello, beautiful…" a quiet murmur came from his throat as he approached her, "long time no see. You don't visit, you don't call, I'm hurt! We had so much fun together," he circled her straining his words but she stood unfazed, "it is so good to see you!!!" he smiled widely.

A shadow of movement ran across the glass tiles of the roof. One, then another, and moments after that a third. They will fall with a crash and shattering glass. Batarangs will fly toward the two most distant goons. Robin will attack the other three quickly disarming them. Red will attack Harley. Nightwing will deal with the Joker. Haos will be unleashed. People will start fleeing in panic.

"Harley told me that you refused my invitation," Joker continued reducing the distance separating them, "you made her sad. What kind of friend are you?"

"A friend wouldn't let her boyfriend hold her friend at gunpoint," Y/N growled measuring herself against Joker.

Shadows moved swiftly across the roof. Just a moment more. Every muscle in Bruce tensed to fight, but his mind controlled his actions. He couldn't face the Joker and take away his ability to leave to get the suit. He needed a few minutes, but he couldn't stand by passively. He couldn't watch as the Joker closed the distance between him and Y/N.

"Ha, I like you! You have a fight in you!" Joker exclaimed with amusement only to lower his tone again and grab her violently by the arm, "are you close?" he glared at Crane, "oooh you are. You can't deny it, I can see it in those angry eyes of yours."

Out of the corner of his eye, Bruce noticed a window in the ceiling swinging open. Muscles tensed waiting for the right moment. His eyes watched the Joker's hand clenched on Y/N's shoulder, his body subconsciously assumed a fighting position, ready to react at any moment.

"The rage is burning…" she yanked but Joker grabbed tighter, " curiouser and curiouser…" with a quick movement he corrected his grip placing his hand on the back of her head.

"Interesting company you choose my dear…" he lowered his voice so that only she could hear him, "dangerous…. but you like danger don't you," she tried to break free but he grabbed her face tightly forcing her to look at him. The blade flashed dangerously against her cheek, "yes, you like danger. That feeling when adrenaline burns in your veins making the whole world cover itself in red. That crazy waltz on the edge of life and death," he strained his words, "you're as crazy as I am. All you need is a little push."

A silvery rain of broken glass rained loudly from the ceiling to disappear a moment later in a cloud of thick smoke. A swish cut the air as the Batarangs soared toward their targets. The black and red cape danced nearby knocking the weapon out of Harley's hand, that rolled with a clatter on the ground.

"Push that!" Y/N growled while an invisible force pushed the Joker back a few steps. Through the smoke, she couldn't see his amused look. The screams got lost in his maniacal laughter. His vicious words drowned in a throaty growl as the blue emerging from the smoke kicked him in the stomach.

"Run!" Nightwing shouted in her direction dodging the knife gleaming in the midst of the smoke, "run!!!"

*

For a moment, paralysis overwhelmed you completely as your legs refused to move. You stood there frozen, with your eyes wide open observing the scene. The Joker's purple coat danced amidst the smoke with each aggressive swing, the blade gleaming from the left then from the right as Nightwing nimbly blocked and dodged. The deadly dance cut through clouds of gray smoke but only one of the dancers was the harbinger of death. Fury blazed in Joker's eyes as he unsuccessfully dealt blows. Curses of hatred drowned in the sounds of battle. Watchful eyes glared in your direction beneath the mask that covered part of his face in a mixture of surprise and worry. But you couldn't move, you couldn't stop admiring. As if mesmerized, you watched the agile leaps, accurate strikes, painful hits and soft flips, and only one thought filled your entire mind. "I need to help him."

Strong male hands grabbed your shoulders trying to pull you aside. Intense blue filled with dread shone before your eyes. He shook you gently in an attempt to snap you out of your amok. His lips moved but you couldn't hear his words. His hands tightened on your shoulders but the touch seemed distant.

"I need to do something…" you said than snatched from his grasp and began to run through the dense gray.

Instinct seemed to guide your steps when reality as if seeing your determination, matched your will by creating a path for you. Frightened people fled in terror, but you dodged them swiftly. A Batarang swished past your ear, but you slowed your step just in time to avoid the accidental impact. The light from the shattered chandelier shone through the clouds of smoke, revealing the Joker's weapon at your feet. You bent down to pick it up, evading the black and yellow cloak flying over your head. A voice called out from the distance, loud enough to make you stop for a split second to avoid a massive blow from the staff. You tore through the chaos without fear, without doubt, without hesitation, as your body and mind seemed to sense the impending danger before it came. It seemed to sense its surroundings before your eyes had time to register the image and transmit it to your mind. The thick gray smoke blocked your vision and yet you knew perfectly well that the moment your dress got caught between your legs, you should crouch down, chase away the smoke with your hand, and help him get up.

"Jonathan…" your words sounded close and yet so far away, "Jonathan, are you alright?" Still clenching your hand on the gun, you helped him up. Blood ran in a thin trickle down his face.

"What are you doing? Are you crazy?" he looked at you surprised.

"Can you stand up?"

"Y/N, get out of here! Run!" the green lit up intensely.

"Can you stand up?" you repeated stubbornly, and without waiting for his answer you grabbed his hand and lifted him to his feet, "tell me you're okay."

"I'm fine."

"You're bleeding."

"I'll be fine. Let's get out of here," he grabbed your hand but you didn't move, "Y/N?"

"Go!" you ordered, "I can't. Not yet."

Before he had time to react you rushed deeper into the room while reality shifted again, yet this time to match your will. The smoke thinned, revealing overturned tables, broken glassware, scattered food, spilled glistening stains of fresh blood. Red-blue lights flashed outside the window exposing a distant rush of blond hair. Involuntarily, you tightened your hand on the gun and sped up your run. Harley fell out the door and you followed her. She rushed down the stairs in desperation trying to get away, to no avail. Leaping down several stairs at once, you could clearly see the surprise in her eyes as she turned around to see how close you were. With a grunt, she fell through the next door but you were right behind her.

"Harley stop!!!" you yelled falling behind her into the hallway, "stop!!!"

"Forget it!!!" she yelled back without slowing down.

"Stop!!!" you had her almost at arm's length.

"Or what!"

"Harley!!!" you could see the glistening droplets of sweat on her bare arms.

"Catch me if you can!" she laughed mockingly.

"I said stop!!!" you shouted reaching out your hand towards her. She did not stop. An invisible force pushed her forward with a powerful surge sending her flying through the air. With a deafening crash she fell painfully to the ground.

"Hey, how did you? That hurt!" she cried out, trying to pick herself up from the floor, but it was too late. Not thinking much, you jumped to her, knocking her over onto her back, kneeling over her, pressing her to the floor with your whole body, immobilizing her.

"Hey!!! Get of me!!!" she exclaimed trying to break free, "get of me! Get of me! Get of me!"

"Harleen! Calm down! Listen to me!" you tried.

"Let me go! Let me go or I will!!!

"What will you do Harl!" you grabbed her hands and pressed her to the floor, "What will you do! You fucked me once already! You took advantage of me! You left me to drown! You let that maniac threaten me with a gun!!!" the Joker's gun suddenly ignited in your hand, "with this gun!!!" you shouted furiously putting the gun to Harley's temple. "You let him put it to my forehead, he threatened to splatter my brain all over the windshield…" you pressed the gun harder against her temple, "so tell me, what else are you going to do?"

"It's not like that, puddin' was just joking."

"Stop it! For fuck sake, stop it! Stop this madness! Whatever he told you, whatever he promised you, he's crazy! A psycho!"

"You don't know him like I do!"

"Harley! Do you even hear yourself? He's a murderer and a psychopath!"

"Before you start judging me maybe you should first look at the company you choose for yourself and who you seek help from!!!" she shouted furiously, "my puddin' loves me! He loves me! And when he finds out what you did he will be very very angry with you! He will not like it, not a bit!"

"Batman was right…" you sighed with resignation, "I can't help you."

You lifted yourself heavily from your knees and reached out to her. For a moment you thought you were looking at Harleen, your friend from the best years of your life, the one you could rely on, the one who would never betray you. For a moment, Harleen smiled warmly as she used to do. She reached for your extended hand and for a moment you thought that everything will be alright. You couldn't see the knife flashing from behind her back. She swung sharply and blood flowed from your slashed arm. You jumped back a moment too late.

"See ya sucker!!!" she laughed, jumping to her feet and launching herself into a run.

For a moment you watched her move away. For a moment you thought to even let her. But the moment vanished in an instant, replaced by pain and anger. Red shrouded your vision, rage filled your mind, ignited the blood in your veins, filled your will. A deep inhale that seemed to consume the anger and then an exhale that ripped it out of you releasing the accumulated force outward. The red disappeared. Silence followed. Reality took on normal colors and shapes. Reality stopped bending to your will.

*

Nightwing, Red Robin and Bruce watched as an invisible force appeared out of nowhere, pushing Harley forward only to pick her up in mid-air and slam her against the wall. Harley's lifeless body slid down the wall. Y/N stood in the middle of the hallway, clutching a gun in one hand, she breathed heavily. Neither of them needed to see her face to understand the exhaustion her posture betrayed. She lowered the extended hand only to slump against the wall and sank heavily to the floor.

"What the hell…" Nightwing gasped in disbelief. With a nod, he instructed Robin to check on Harley as he himself moved toward Y/N. Calmly and gently so as not to frighten her, so as not to trigger an instinctive defensive reaction in her. The gun glistened in her hand, damp with sweat and blood running down her cut arm. Out of the corner of her eye he glanced at Bruce who had followed, his face betraying a blend of tension and worry.

"I stopped her…" she whispered when Nightwing entered her line of sight, "I had to stop her. It's all my fault. If it wasn't for me, none of this would have happened."

"She's alive," Robin informed, "only unconscious."

Bruce brushed past Nightwing and crouched by her side. Tears shone in her tired eyes.

"Y/N, it wasn't your fault…" he said softly, "it wasn't your fault."

"Bruce…" a confused glance jumped between Nightwing and Bruce.

"Mister Wayne is a very stubborn man," Nightwing explained, "he ran after you first, pointing us in the right direction. He refused to stay behind."

Without a word, Bruce knelt down, took off his jacket, loosened his bow tie, and took out a white silk handkerchief from his pocket.

"I helped her free the Joker from Arkham," she explained quietly as he pressed the handkerchief to the cut on her arm, "I tried to convince Batman that she was innocent," she continued as he used the tie to stop the bleeding, "I let her escape when they tried to stop her…" his eyes stopped on the gun she was still clutching in her hand. His glance asked without words. "Oh…that…" she sighed as if her consciousness had only now registered the weapon in her hand, "it's Jokers'. I found it as I chased Harley. He must have dropped it…" she deftly turned the gun in her hand directing the grip to Bruce as if she had done it many times in the past, "I would never use it…" she continued handing it back to him, "I just didn't want it lying there. I didn't want him to use it."

Bruce did not take the gun from her. He merely looked at Robin, who quickly took the gun from Y/N's hand, pulled a Ziploc bag from his belt pocket and closed it tightly.

"We need to get you to the medics," Bruce finally said, throwing the jacket over her shoulders and gently lifting her to her feet.

"I'm fine, it's just a mild cut.

"It wasn't a question."

"What about Jonathan?" she asked as he put his arm around her waist as if he feared she would fall down any moment.

"He is fine," he replied shortly, "let's go," he ordered motioning her towards the exit but Robin blocked their way.

"Miss…" he began uncertainly trying to ignore Bruce's menacing stare, "Y/N right?" she looked at him and nodded, "how?" he asked glancing at Harley whose unconscious body lay laid in a safe position nearby.

"I don't know…I just did…" she answered weakly, "what's going to happen to her?"

"She will probably be transported to Arkham," Robin replied.

"Please remind Batman that he promised me."

"What did Batman promise?"

"That he would help her."

***

Chapter twelve: Running toward danger

~~***~~ Author note: I got carried with words. Sorry about that. But I had this idea for this scene, you know which one, but it couldn't happen in isolation. The story needed to happen. Speaking of that scene, a few months back I heard this song, Merry Go Round Of Life Cover By Grissini Project. Within minutes that scene was born. Everything, from the initial setup, through the conversation just before, to the final moments. For the last few months that scene lived in my mind waiting for its time. Waiting for the story to lead our characters into this place. Hoping it will lead them there. And as they finally arrived here, I'll be honest, I was giggling like a teenage girl while writing it. I do hope that it worked for you as well as it did for me. But now, I can finally move away from a keyboard (for now) and go watch Good Omens season 2. At the end, as always my Dear Reader, I thank you for reading.

~~***~~ Tag list: @mrsgrahamsdesign @theclassicvinyldragon @blondwhowrites @batgirlspain @hangmanscoming @julesjewelss36 @cherryflavoredcoke @grandstrangerphantom @maripositanoctruna @pluckastarfromthesky @butterfly-lies-chase-them-away @pirate-with-internet-connection