#Seriously though Stand my Heroes' was the best

[rboooks]

Child Support Part 2

Tim watched the other young heroes as they tried to look around the watch tower without seeming like they were. He's been here plenty of times, but the rest of the Teen Titans and a few of the Young Justice hasn't.

Much was due to the older heroes leaving the younger ones alone. Some not taking them seriously enough to welcome them at the big HQ as much as that made his blood boil.

They were taking the same risks. They were fighting the same good fights. Why was their age the main reason they weren't treated equally?

Some teenage heroes weren't part of a team per see, but they always answered when a call was sent. For example, Cass and Steph were present, speaking softly to Static Shock. Damian was standing next to Jon and his little friend Colin who was just getting into the swing of the hero business.

Bruce almost bit through his tongue when Damian told him Abuse would be joining Robin on parol, and he could do nothing to stop them. (Tim felt like he was watching Damian tell Bruce a paraphrased version of "But Daddy, I love him!" and it kept him smiling for weeks)

It was wild to see almost every young hero in one place. He doesn't think this happened since the last time Justice Leauge got mind controlled and almost destroyed the whole world.

"Any idea why we're here?" Kon asks to his right, lowering his shade to stare at the Outlaws. Jason's team stood to the side chatting iddly while cleaning over thier weapons.

Kon's always like their punk point of view, and he knows his best friend wants to go over there to talk to them. If it wasn't for the issue of the clone still being mad about what Jason did at the Teen Titans tower. Almost murder was hard to forgive for people outside the Bats.

"None. All I know is that John Constantine sent out a message to every teenage superhero group calling for a meet-up," Tim responds.

Bart whistles with a grimace on his right. "Must be bad if that guy is asking."

"I heard Hawkwoman tell Superman that she was worried and wasn't sure she wanted anyone of us mixed up in Constantine's mistakes." Cassie chimes in from where she leans on the couch. The three turn to her as she lowers her voice, attempting to keep the others from hearing. "Batman told her off for it."

"Batman did?" Tim asks, surprised.

Cassie shrugs, throwing a bit of her blond hair over her shoulder. "As much Batman can emote anyway."

Yeah, that sounded about right. Though it must have been something Bruce found disrespectful. His dad usually never reprimanded strangers unless they were saying something or doing something that sounded far too much like bigotry to him.

But to apply that to Constantine? Someone, Bruce generally disliked communicating with because the man tended to backstab his contacts? Yes, Constantine wasn't evil, but he wasn't pleasant either.

If Bruce had magical issues, he tended to contact Zatanna first.

Just then, the watch tower's zeta beams activate. Everyone who gathered turns to the teleporting pads where Constantine appears looking, for lack of a better word, absolutely exhausted. Even Tim knows that his eye bags aren't that bad, and he's usually going hours without sleep.

"Oh good, you all made it," Constantine says, sipping from a mug and wearing nothing but sweatpants and what looks like a nightgown. His signature trench coat was nowhere in sight. "I'm going to be quick about this. I need a team of young heroes willing to accept my son into their fold."

The room is dead silent. Constantine sighs. "Look, I've tried everything, but it's like Danny is allergic to laying low. He fought with a demon the other day over a child's doll- which you all know happens. People get haunted! But Danny refused to do it the right way, and now I had to beat off the demon's marriage proposal at least ten times. Not to mention his lack of social skills! No matter which one I stick him in, he can't seem to make friends in school. He got shoved into a locker on his first day! I thought that was an American exaggeration of the telly!"

Constantine pauses and takes a large gulp of whatever he's drinking before continuing his rant. A hand runs through his already messy hair, leaving it in bigger disarray as he speaks. "He's behind in terms of trends and technology cause his other father raised him outside of the typical timelines, so sometimes it's like talking to someone from the early two thousand, and other times it's like he's a modern Victorian era lad. His powers are also all over the place because the ectoplasm in our world is thicker, so when he breathes it in, he losses his control. Just the other day he accidentally made himself fly through our ceiling and almost reach the atmosphere before I was able to bring him back down."

A few of the fliers in the room wince. Jon nods and whispers under his breath, though his voice carries in the silence. "Yeah, been there before. Flying can be scary if you don't know how to come down."

Johns glances around at all the young people, eyes showing a tad bit of desperation. "He's sad all the time now, and I don't know how to help. If working with you could help him make friends, I would be grateful. He's a great kid. He just needs to adjust."

Tim had no idea what to do with this information; how do you respond to arguably one of the strongest Justice League Darks' heroes asking for a play date for his son?

"How old is the child?" Damian's voice rings out. Colin's hand is attached to his sleeve, a slightly nervous smile on the boy's face as he attempts to hide from the staring heroes behind his brother. Tim bets that if he wasn't wearing the domino mask, they would be able to see slight tears in Colin's eyes.

Damian's other hand goes across his body to cover Colin's hand, and Tim fights a shit-eating grin. His eyes lock with Jason, and the two send each other knowing grins. Looks like Bruce did have to worry about Damian having a secret boyfriend.

He can't wait to tease Damian later.

"He's fourteen....or well, physically?" Constantine answers eagerly.

"What does that mean?" Kon asks this time.

"Okay, so he's half human, half ecto-being. He sired him with his other father, Clockwork, which was only four years ago in this dimension, but since he was raised in the Infinite Relemas, times move differently there? " The British man says, and Raven goes rigid.

"Clockwork, as in the most powerful Ancient?" She asks, looking horror-struck when Constantine nods.

Before anyone asked what that meant, the zeta tubes activated again without permission. Someone had hacked into their systems which were ten levels bad. Everyone naturally fell into a fighting stance, only to blink when a teenage boy stepped out with a loud excited screech.

"We're in space!" The teenager runs to one of the windows, pressing his hands and face up against the glass. "This is amazing!"

Tim only relaxes his muscles once Constantine clears his throat. "Chum...what are you doing here?"

"Oh. One of your curse rocks things started proposing to me again, so I ran out of the House of Mysteries. Thought I see what you were up to." The teenager says, turning around with a smile and utterly freezing at the sight of the gathered heroes.

He had dark hair, wide blue eyes, and the most adorable face Tim had ever seen. Not as sexy as Bernard, of course, but darn close. Judging by the looks of anyone attractive to males, most heroes thought the same.

"Um...hi?" He says, offering the Godsmack teenagers a helpless little shrug. "I'm Danny Constantine."

"It is a pleasure, Constantine." Damian marches over to him with all his little twelve-year-old authority. He barely reaches Danny's chest. "I shall look forward to working with you. Are you formally trained in combat or strictly magic?"

"Um...oh, I can throw a punch or two? I'm mostly self taught. I rely on my powers a lot?" Danny fumbles to answer throwing a desperate look at his presumed father.

"No matter. I shall have you begin training. My Beloved also needs to work on his form. There is no shame in this" Damian nods, and Constantine lets out a large sigh of relief. He jogs over to place a hand on his son's shoulder, giving him a one-sided hug

"Yes, Danny, you will join Robin, Superboy, and Abuse on missions. They agree to help you settle and get used to your ghost powers." Constantine smiles. "I'll give me time to discourage all those idiots from trying to trick you into marriage."

"Oh...okay. It's nice to meet you all. Please call me Phantom on the field. Um, are you the team leader?" He asks Damian as the three youngest boys lead him further into the watch tower.

Constantine watches them go with the brightest smile he's ever seen on the man's face. He looks back to the group, who were barely starting to pick their jaws off the floor and makes a shooing motion with his hand. "You lot are dismissed."

Then the man vanishes in a green portal.

There is a ringing silence until Barts blurts out. "I'm pretty sure this is where the Phantom Fan Club first formed. A historical moment."

Tim wants to take a nap.

( Part 1 )

[luxaofhesperides]

Dancing in the rain ; requested by @wandixx!

He hadn’t been expecting the Signal to chase after him. It is, after all, well after midnight, and he had seen the vigilante out earlier during the day. 

Maybe the Bats are understaffed tonight, he muses as he leaps over the rooftops, a wild grin on his face. Being on the other side of a chase is a lot of fun, he’s discovering. He can see why Selina enjoys it so much.

Though, it probably has to do more with who’s chasing her than it is the chase itself.

But Danny’s become a bit of an adrenaline junkie after a few years of being a hero, fighting ghosts and governments. He’s not a hero anymore, especially not in Gotham, but being Catwoman’s partner in crime is way more fun than being responsible for everyone’s safety.

It’s like he’s doing anything bad, either. Selina can steal whatever she wants; if they couldn’t protect things against her, then should they really have it? Danny doesn’t focus on jewelry or gems. No, he takes ghost artifacts or items contaminated with ectoplasm back to the realms where they won’t cause problems to any humans. There are enough ecto-contaminated people in this world, solely from Amity Park. Best not to let that number grow.

So here he is, leaping over rain-slicked rooftops and only using a little bit of flying to keep ahead, holding a cursed pocket watch that a ghost had requested he return to them, with the Signal chasing after him, disappearing into shadows and popping up unexpectedly. 

“Stray! Get back here!” Signal yells, and Danny takes a moment to spin on his heel to face the vigilante to stick his tongue out at him, then backflips away.

“I didn’t even steal anything important!” he returns, tossing the pocketwatch in the air ahead, then jumps up to catch it and scales his way up to the roof of the next building. 

“Seriously,” Signal says, suddenly in front of him. “Stop running and we can talk this out.”

“Woah!” Danny tries to get around him, trips over his own feet, and crashes into the Signal’s chest. 

“Careful, there.” He looks up to see the Signal’s smile, and he absolutely can not be blamed for having his half dead heart skip a beat. He’s in the arms of a hero who’s smiling at him so sweetly, what’s a guy to do? “Ready to talk now?”

Danny goes intangible for a moment, smoothly sliding out of the Signa’s grip. “Nope,” he grins, starting up the chase once again.

The rain isn’t very strong, and the drops feel cool against his face as he runs, getting a little more air with each jump as he uses more of his flight to keep ahead. He can hear the Signal chasing after him again, heavy footsteps that start and stop unpredictably as he travels between shadows. 

Just to be safe, Danny stashes the pocket watch inside his chest, leaving his hands free to grab onto the rough brick of the walls and scale them up, aiming to go higher and higher. Maybe if he finds a good building, he can dramatically fall off the edge and fly away invisibly. 

“Got you!” 

The Signal pops up out of the wall and grabs Danny, who yelps and tries to pull his arms away. The Signal is too strong, and his tight grip on Danny’s wrists is warm against the chill of the rain. 

They stand there for a moment, just staring at each other as they try to catch their breath. And then, “Is that any way to treat a guy?” Danny jokes, trying one last time to pull his wrists free.

“It is when it’s you,” the Signal replies. “Man, you sure know how to run.”

“I’ll be sure to put that on my resume for my next heist.”

“Seriously, can we talk?”

Danny eyes him curiously. The other Bats mostly tried to take back whatever it is he’d stolen that night, occasionally trying to get information from him. None of them had outright asked to have a chat with him. The Signal at least has some manners, compared to the rest of him. There’s no harm in sticking around for one conversation.

It helps that the Signal is cute, especially when he had saved Danny a few weeks ago. 

Sue him, he’s a bit soft on the Signal. Wouldn’t anyone be with their favorite hero?

“Alright,” Danny says, relaxing. “Go ahead. Talk.”

“Great! Okay, um.” The Signal bites his lip and Danny should really look away, but his eyes are fixed to his mouth. He doesn’t speak for a solid minute, during which Danny really begins to feel the chill of the rain. “Can I get less comments from the peanut gallery?” he says suddenly.

“What?” Danny laughs, confused.

The Signal sighs. “My comms are on. The others are being annoying. If they wanted to ask you questions, they should have caught you first.”

“Oh, protecting me from the big bad Bats? My hero,” Danny says sweetly, pretending to swoon. Except, the Signal follows his movements, releasing his wrists to catch him by the waist, holding him steady. Danny’s breath hitches, and from how close they are, he has no doubt that the Signal heard it. They freeze for a moment, then the Signal dips him like some fainting Victorian maiden.

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t mind sweeping you up in my arms.” The smirk on his face only lasts a moment before he grimace and says, “I shouldn’t have said that on open comms. Man, they’re annoying. It’s not my fault I know how to flirt.”

Danny…

Well. Danny short circuits for a moment, running the words over his mind again, then blushes so hard he’s sure there’s steam coming off his cheeks. “You’re flirting?” he squeaks. “With me?”

“Flirting,” a new voice confirms, making them both jump, stumbling against each other as Black Bat hops down onto their rooftop. “Both shy and silly. I’m better.”

“You can’t even ask out Spoiler,” the Signal retaliates.

“She can’t even WHAT?” Spoiler yells as she also vaults herself over the alley below to join them. “You want to ask me out?”

Though she doesn’t say anything, Danny can practically feel Black Bat’s glare through her mask. The Signal winces, then says, “Oops.”

“Man, you can keep yourself busy, clearly Sig doesn’t need backup,” Spoiler says. “I need to go on a date with Black Bat. The rest of you suckers are on your own!” And then she grabs Black Bat’s hand and grapples away.

There’s a beat of silence, then Danny and the Signal share a glance and start laughing. 

“Well,” Danny says, “Good for them! Good for them.”

“They’re probably just going to Bat Burger.”

“And are you going to be treating me to a burger any time soon? I should be compensated for this conversation, you know.”

“Please, if I was taking you out on a date, it wouldn’t be to Bat Burger. I’d take you out dancing.”

It sounds like a date his dad would take his mom on. It sounds nice. Danny smiles and leans in closer to the Signal, taking hold of one of his hands. With the other, he puts Signal’s hand on his waist, then brings his own up to the Signal’s shoulder. 

“Why not dance with me now?”

Danny leads them in a few clumsy turns of a waltz, silently thanking Sam for forcing him to take a few ballroom dance lessons with her. The Signal seems a little dazed, following his lead, and when he lightly squeezes Danny’s waist, he shivers. 

Catwoman should be done with Batman soon. They had agreed to meet up at the newly opened Vintage Boutique in Diamond District, and he intends to beat her there. 

Reluctantly, Danny pulls away from the Signal with one final spin, and hops up onto the edge of the roof. “If you can find me during the day,” he says, “Then I’ll dance with you again. See you around, Signal!”

And with that, Danny hops backwards off the roof, free-falling towards the ground before he lets gravity lose hold of him and slips into invisibility, flying up just as the Signal peers over the edge, searching for him.

Unable to help himself, Danny floats closer until he can give the Signal a quick kiss on the cheek, then flies off, grinning wildly. 

He certainly can’t wait to see the Signal again. 

Maybe if he hired a few guys to pretend to rough him up while Signal’s out patrolling…

Well, either way, this cat is already half dead so he can jump straight to satisfaction bringing him back. And, hopefully, back into Signal’s arms again when they won’t be interrupted by other Bats. 

He’s already looking forward to it.

. . .

[send me a ghostlights prompt!]

[librarygarten]

#2 Chain x Isekai! Reader - You Play Their Games

Part 2 includes Legend, Four, and Wild Slight trigger warning for Wild's part? He grabs your wrist harshly Part 1 ✿ Part 2 (you are here) ✿ Part 3

When you first met the chain, it had quickly come to everyone’s attention that you already knew them. At first, they thought perhaps you had somehow heard tales of them, passed down through the generations. But you knew things about their adventures they hadn’t told anyone. You knew the names of people and places that surely wouldn’t have survived the thousands of years the stories would have taken to reach you.

You tried your best to explain to them how you knew what you did. Thankfully, you had your Switch, which made explaining what a video game was to them a bit easier.

Legend

Oh this is seriously pissing Legend off. He’s glaring daggers at your Switch like it just insulted his entire bloodline. His adventures? Games? Children’s games? It’s disturbing. It’s degrading. His uncle died! Zelda was imprisoned! He had to fight Ganon in the freaking Dark Realm! And that was only his first adventure! You apparently had ALL of his adventures as games on that device. His life wasn’t some cool toy! (He is slightly smug about having the most games of the chain though.)

He knows you’re not the one who made the games. He understands that you had no reason to view his adventures as anything other than some story a person in your world made. But the fact that until recently, you viewed him as a fictional character? That before you met him, you had seen him as a toy? That hurts. 

Legend starts avoiding you. When the group walks somewhere, he’ll change his pace to make sure he’s not next to you. When the group settles down for the night, he keeps himself busy rearranging his items. He tries not to make it too obvious, always having a reason ready if someone asks what he’s up to. Eventually, though, the others catch on to his behavior.

✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧

“You know, you can’t avoid them forever.”

Legend looked up from his bag, which he had been reorganizing for the last half hour. Warrior was standing next to him, arms crossed in the “I’m-not-mad-just-disappointed” dad stance. (How he had snuck up on Legend without him hearing was a mystery).

“I’m not avoiding them.”

“Yes you are.”

Legend sighs. He’s not getting out of this conversation, is he?

“It’s just…How are you not bothered? They have all our adventures on a little device. They went on our adventures from the safety of their couch! Do they even see us as people? Are we just a game to them?” Legend snaps his mouth shut. He hadn’t meant to start rambling. Warrior raises an eyebrow, considering the younger hero.

“Go ask to see one of your games. Watch them play for a bit.” Warrior puts up a hand to silence Legend when he begins to protest. “I can’t have you treat a teammate like this. Go.”

Later, Legend begrudgingly found himself sitting next to you. The group had come across a town, so most of the chain was off exploring and gathering supplies. Warrior had practically dragged Legend over to where you were sitting, but you were just happy Legend was finally okay being near you.

“So,” you smile, turning on your Switch “I know Wars is kind of forcing you to do this, but which game do you want to see? There’s A Link to the Past, A Link Between Worlds, Link’s Awakening…”

“Are all my games puns?” he scrunches up his face, cringing at whoever decided on these names. He could guess which pun correlated to each of his adventures, except for one. “What’s Link’s Awakening?”

“Oh! That one’s probably my favorite. It was actually so popular they re-made it a few years ago.” You open the game, and begin moving the game Link around the world.

“Is that supposed to be me?” Legend asks, “Why is my head so freakishly big?”

“It’s not that bad! It’s just the art style! Everyone looks like that. See?” You tap the screen, pointing to another character. Legend recognizes her immediately. Of course. Of course you had Koholint in your device.

“So, how much of my adventure do you see in this game?” Legend asks hesitantly, a blush creeping onto his face.

“From talking to the others, all of the enemies and places are the same,” you explain while moving game Link up a staircase. “But the things you guys say to other people aren't. Links don't talk in games, like, ever.” He nods, and watches as you enter the Wind Fish’s egg. When you finish the final boss fight, you hesitate to walk up the stairs.

“Sorry, I always get a bit emotional at this part.” You give him a half smile, “If I go up the staircase, the Wind Fish will talk, and then the game ends.”

“Isn't that the point?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Well, yeah, but I’ve never liked this game’s ending. It’s… frustrating. And sad.” You throw your hand up, clearly frustrated. “Like, I get that the stupid fish needs to wake up, but what about everyone else? I hate that I can’t get a happy ending for everyone.”

“Why do you care? Isn’t it just a game?” Legend crosses his arms, but his expression softens.

“It is- er… was.” You blush. “I don’t know. Even before I met you guys. Back when I thought none of this was real. I still wanted a happy ending.”

He lets his bangs fall in his face. You can’t see his expression when he talks again.

“I wanted one too.”

Four

(I know Four Swords is on the Switch now, but before that it was so ATROCIOUSLY difficult to play that I had to include The Struggle)

Games? About him? That's… concerning to say the least. It's not that he minds. He's honestly a bit flattered! But also. That means you know about the colors. Which he hasn't really told anyone in the group about.

He's preparing himself for an awkward conversation, but it never comes. Whenever another member of the chain asks about his games, you either only talk about his adventures with the Picori, or go on a half hour long rant about how hard it is to play the games.

Then during one of these rants you mention that Four Swords is your favorite game, and he nearly chokes on his own spit. He had thought you hated it from how much you complain about getting it set up. Something about emulators and linking cables? He doesn’t understand most of what you say, but knowing that he’s your favorite (well, his games are) makes him break out into a huge grin.

He watches you play occasionally, mostly out of curiosity. He usually has other things to be doing, like fixing Wild’s sword. Again. But on the rare occasion he has free time and is feeling especially bored, he’ll watch you.

✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧

Four finds you and Wind buried in a mass of wires. Your Switch, another box, and several smaller devices are scattered around the ground. You curse under your breath as you attempt to untangle the cords and plug them into the box.

“That’s it. I’m out.” Wind gets up and lets the wires that were in his lap fall unceremoniously to the ground . “Four’s adventure can’t be worth this much trouble to see.”

Wind walks away, and Four takes his place next to you.

“So… what is all this?” he asks, picking up a mass of wires and attempting to undo some of the knots.

“This, my friend, is all the equipment needed to play your game.” You say exasperatedly, trying yet again to plug the still-tangled wires into one of the devices.

“Are all your video games this complicated?” Four grimaces at the mess in front of you. He’s inclined to agree with Wind on this one. His adventure can’t be worth this much effort to play through.

“No, just yours.” You scowl and jam the end of one of the cables into one of the devices, hoping it will stay put this time. You have no such luck. “Four Swords is only a multiplayer game, and each person playing needs to own a copy of the game, plus have a way to connect to the other players. Hence… this mess.” You motion tiredly at the pile in front of you.

“Multiplayer?” he tilts his head questioningly.

“It means you can’t play it alone,” you stick out your tongue as you concentrate on finally putting the cords in their proper places. “You need to have multiple players.”

He nods. It makes sense, he guesses, considering how much focus he had to put on teamwork during his adventure with the Four Sword. He watches you try to boot up the game, then curse again as you fiddle with the wires again. Finally, you get it working.

“Sweet!” You clap your hands together, and Four smiles at how happy you seem to finally be able to play his game. To his surprise, you hand him one of the controllers. “Want to play with me?”

“Uhh… What about Wind?” He’s not sure he wants to actually play his adventure. Doing it once was enough, thank you very much.

“He ditched me during setup. Now he doesn’t get to play,” you say. “That’s been the rule at my house since we started playing this game.”

“Seems fair.” Four reluctantly takes the controller. He doesn’t want to seem rude and say no. Then who would you play with? “So, how do I do this?”

“It’s basically just a contest to see who can collect the most gems in the level. Not much story. Fastest wins.” you explain.

“Wait, really?” He's a bit surprised. He was expecting his game to be a bit more complicated. He suddenly doesn’t mind playing so much. “That sounds… really simple.”

“Yeah, it’s an older game, so it doesn’t seem like a lot of your adventure actually transfers over to the game.” You pick up a controller and smile mischievously. “Ready to lose, Smithy?”

“As if!” He grins, matching your enthusiasm. “Care to put your money where your mouth is?”

Wild

Wild isn't sure what the feeling that's settled in his chest is. He's not thrilled at the idea of you playing games about his adventure. He’s been through a lot, and the idea that it was all just a fun game to someone? It hurts. It’s upsetting. He’s honestly a bit annoyed at you for a while. You also seem to know something he doesn’t? What’s that about? Why won’t you tell him?

He decides that if you won’t answer his questions, he’ll trick you into showing him. He watches you play Breath of the Wild while he cooks, or while the group is walking, or really any chance there’s downtime. He quickly realizes that most of what you do is just run around killing monsters and finding Koroks. Nothing very noteworthy or interesting. Certainly, nothing worth hiding from him.

Then, you let it slip that his games are your favorite, and oooh boy is he smug. For about a day. After the initial ego boost, he realizes you said games. Plural. He’s only seen you play the one, though? What’s that about? He’s not getting answers, and it’s starting to eat at him. Eventually, he just steals your Switch and tries to find out for himself.

✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧

Wild throws the Switch at the ground next to where you’re sitting. You look up and see that he is absolutely fuming. Anything you could have said dies in your throat. Without another word, he storms off.

“What was that about?” Twilight asks, watching Wild walk away. You shrug, completely bewildered, and pick your Switch up off the ground. There’s dirt in the headphone jack, and a corner of the screen is cracked. You turn it on, testing how much damage has been done, and all the color drains from your face.

“Oh.” Is all you can think to say. Tears of the Kingdom is running. It looks like Wild started a new save file on your account. He’s still in the underground area at the beginning of the game, so he must have just finished watching the opening cutscene.

Before Twilight can ask any more questions, you drop your Switch on the ground again, probably cracking the screen even more, and take off sprinting in the direction Wild went.

“Wild? WILD!” You yell into the forest as you run, trying your best to follow which direction you think he might have gone. “WILD!!? LINK?!”

You stumble into a small clearing, and stop dead in your tracks. Wild is furiously swinging his sword at a tree, each strike is less precise than the last. After what feels like hours, but in truth was only a few minutes, he drops the weapon and falls to his knees. His breathing is ragged as his fingers claw into the dirt beneath him.

“Wild?” you whisper his name, tiptoeing to his side. Hesitantly, you kneel down next to him and place your hand on his shoulder.

“You knew.” His hair hides his face from view, but his voice has an edge you’ve never heard before. He sounds ready to murder you, but he doesn’t move from his place on the ground, only digging his fingers deeper into the ground. “You knew I was going to lose everything again. And you didn’t tell me.”

“I…” you gulp. What can you even say? What comfort can you offer? “I was planning to tell you… sometime.”

“Oh! Sometime!” Wild grabs your wrist and his face is suddenly inches from yours, eyes dark with anger. “And just when was this sometime going to be?”

“I don’t know!” You twist your wrist, attempting to escape his crushing grip, but are unsuccessful. “I was trying to figure out a way to tell you! Or to stop it from happening in the first place!”

“Stop it? Just how do you expect to stop that from happening?” Wild releases your wrist and combs his hands roughly into his hair, pushing it away from his face angrily. You take a moment to rub where he had grabbed you. It aches, but there isn’t even a bruise.

“Well,” you speak softly as you stand up, taking a few steps away from him. “I figured, if we ever passed through your time, all ten of us could go wail on him before he even breaks the seal. There is the chance of him escaping and wailing on us instead, though.”

“THAT’S your plan?” He laughs as tears roll down his cheeks. “Sure! Let’s just go in, guns blazing, and all die of gloom poisoning!”

“That’s why I was waiting to tell you!” You throw up your hands. Your words sound louder than you intended them. Are you yelling now? “I have a couple design plans in the works for the Purah Pad and Sheika Slate, depending on which one is available, but none of them are finished yet!”

“Design plans?” Wild’s anger melts off his face, replaced with hesitant hope. “What are you designing?”

“Three words: Weaponized. Spinning. Top.”

[akataiii]

Go ahead and try (A Hawks x reader)

“It'd be so easy, you know?”

Tearing my eyes from the ballroom floor and casting my gaze to the right, I'm met by the sight of a smug-looking Kiki; a short woman with curly, purple hair and a pair of white dove wings residing on her back. She is also known as one of Hawks' most trusted sidekicks.

I turn my body so I'm facing her fully, readjusting my grip on the glass of champagne in my hand. I shift my weight from one foot to the other, tilting my head at her and quirking a puzzled brow.

“I'm sorry?” I ask, voice portraying the confusion I was feeling.

Kiki huffs, bringing her own glass of champagne to her lips and taking a languid sip while shifting her attention to the opposite side of the room. I follow her gaze, finding what, or rather, who she is staring at.

Hawks' pretty, red wings are unmistakable; standing out in the crowd and demanding immediate attention, almost as if screaming, ‘Look at me!’ And I did look. I always looked at my boyfriend.

I looked at how he gave his best every day, striving to be an amazing hero and somehow managing to muster up enough positive energy to make up for my lack of daily optimism.

Me and Keigo were pretty much two opposite ends of a coin, and yet we somehow worked together perfectly, making up that coin in perfect harmony each and every day.

“What I meant was,” Kiki starts, drawing my focus back to her, where she's taking another sip of her champagne. “It would be easy for me to steal Hawks from you,” she finishes, turning to look at me with a smug smirk.

I blink at her, momentarily stunned. Well, that came out of nowhere, I think to myself, (e/c) eyes widened in surprise. It doesn't take long for me to get over the initial shock though, instead letting out an amused huff before folding my arms across my chest, careful not to spill my champagne. 

“Well then,” I say, letting my features fall into a relaxed and unbothered expression. “By all means, have at it. Try your best,” I prompt, trying my best to suppress my laughter at the astonished look Kiki sends my way. 

“Seriously? Just like that?” She questions, looking slightly disappointed at not receiving any kind of negative reaction from me. “You're just going to give him up?”

I shrug, bringing my glass of champagne to my lips and looking over at Keigo’s bright, red wings again. “I don't see how it's necessary for me to put up a fight,” I reply, a faint smile grazing my lips as I catch Keigo laughing at something Mirko said.

“You have no respect for your relationship,” is the last thing I hear Kiki say before her heels are clacking loudly against the tiled floor, and she's marching away from me.

Nope, I think to myself, feeling smug and self-assured at my own thoughts. I just have that much faith in my boyfriend.

—

I stretch my arms above my head, hastily bringing one hand back down to stifle the yawn that slips past my lips. The cement of the sidewalk feels hard under my feet as I walk back towards me and Keigo's apartment, returning from the day at my boring, mundane, civilian job. 

I don't regret my choice of not becoming a hero. The whole flashy, saving people lifestyle just never suited me, and I was perfectly alright with that. Even if my job was mundane and void of any flashiness, it never failed to fill me with a sense of joy. 

How could I ever hate the flower shop I worked at when it's where I met my lovely boyfriend? I still remember the day Keigo came in, fresh on the job, and picking up the flower order for the grand opening of his hero agency.

Even if our relationship was rocky at first, filled with countless bickering and endless antagonizing (all from my end, oopsie), we ended up together and in love anyway, and I could never be happier than when I was by his side.

Of course, life is never that simple, and neither are relationships, especially that of a pro-hero. Keigo was never allowed to let the public know about himself, always forced by the Hero Public Safety Commission to hide behind the Hawks exterior they curated for him.

A select few people did know about our relationship, though. Mostly the heroes Keigo worked alongside and the sidekicks at his agency.

Which is where Kiki comes in.

It's been a week since her random confession to me at the Hero Gala me and Keigo attended. It didn't bother me; instead, I was only curious to see if Kiki would actually carry through her plan of 'stealing Hawks from me.’

Thoughts of how I could possibly ask my boyfriend about it swirl around in my mind as I continue my trip home. My feet hit the pavement in a rhythmic pattern, lulling me into a state where I was only half paying attention to the world around me. Suddenly, the red feather around my neck gives a violent jerk to the right, almost knocking me off my balance.

I stumble on the cement below me, regaining my footing before glaring down at the feather in confusion and irritation. It had settled back down and was resting innocently against the skin of my collarbone, like it didn't just almost choke me half to death.

Knowing it had a mind of its own and was likely trying to show me something, I shift my gaze to the right, the direction in which the feather jerked in. Immediately, my eyes latch onto the two red wings on the opposite side of the road.

Keigo stands talking to Kiki, hands raised in surrender and seemingly waving away something she's saying.

What a pleasant surprise, I think to myself, moving to lean against the nearest lamp pole. My arms are folded comfortably across my chest as I watch whatever situation is currently playing out in front of me.

I watch as Kiki says something else to Keigo, her lips curled into a wide, mischievous grin as her finger lightly pokes his chest.

Kiki is Hawks' most trusted ally, always going with him on patrol and assisting him on missions. Anyone with functioning eyes could see that they were close, and the media even went into its usual conspiracy theories that the two might be dating.

Keigo, polite as always, denies the accusations every time, waving them away with his usual smile and saying nothing other than, ‘She’s a great sidekick. Nothing more.’

I was never the jealous type and never would be. Hawks may be some flirty, charming hero persona created by the HPSC to be shown to the public, but in private, Keigo was happy to just be. While he was still a flirty and charismatic person in general, when he got off the clock and came home, he was free to do whatever he wanted.

I smile to myself, thinking of all the nights the blonde came home and immediately attacked me with a flurry of chirps and kisses, letting his suppressed bird instincts free. I would always dissolve into a fit of giggles when he twittered and chirped in my ear, telling me how much he loves me and how much he missed me that day.

Point being, I had complete faith in my boyfriend and trusted our devotion to one another.

Back to the current time, the feather around my neck gives another jerk, this one much less violent, catching my attention and causing me to frown down at it in concern.

In theory, or well, confirmed by Keigo, the red feather around my neck was just an extension of his body and Quirk, meaning the feather reacted the same way the feathers on his back did. Which could only mean…

I lift my gaze to inspect the pair of heroes across the street. Kiki had made her way further into Keigo's personal space, now standing only inches away from him and running a hand along his chest while looking up at him from under half-lidded eyes. Even from where I stood, I could read the seduction in her actions, and it caused me to physically cringe. Is she aware of just how desperate she looks?

I feel the feather twitch again, and with my gaze focused on Keigo, I catch the way the feathers on his back twitch as well, a clear indication of his discomfort. 

As previously mentioned, I had complete faith in my boyfriend, and I'm also aware of how the HPSC controlled his actions and personality in public. I also know that Keigo is a considerate person and cares deeply for the people he works with. It's for those reasons that I don't blame Keigo for not immediately shoving Kiki away or yelling at her to keep her distance from him. Lashing out at her would only get him in trouble and nag at his subconscious.

I think for a few moments, mind filing through ways I could possibly save my boyfriend from the predicament he was in. My gaze falls on the twitching feather again, and my eyes widen at the newfound idea in my mind. 

I kick myself off of the lamp pole, unfolding my arms and reaching a hand up to gently pinch the feather between my fingers, knowing exactly how sensitive the item is. With measured actions, I tentatively bring the feather to my lips and softly graze it against them, smiling when I catch Keigo stiffening across the street. 

“Hey Kei,” I whisper, knowing the blonde could hear my every word.

Keigo's head whips around: beady, golden eyes immediately finding me and lighting up with a happiness I recognize all too well. He hastily pulls Kiki’s hand from his chest and makes his way over to me, all in a matter of mere seconds. A man too fast for his own good, I chuckle to myself, finding amusement in my own thought.

“Hello my love,” Keigo greets, arms instinctively wrapping around my waist and pulling me close.

I smile, soft and almost unnoticeable, but Keigo knows it's there nonetheless, and I bring my hands up to cradle his face in my palms.

“Hello,” I mumble, gaze fixed on the way Keigo's lips are spread into a wide smile, and his eyes are filled with that fondness always aimed at me. If there was ever any doubt as to whether or not Keigo loved me, all that you needed to do was analyze the way he looked at me. In those golden, sunset irises, you’d always find the undeniable answer written between his affection.

Keigo lets out a soft chuckle before pulling his face from my hands and closing the distance between us, nuzzling his face against my cheek with quiet chirps escaping his lips.

“Missed you so much,” Keigo coos, planting soft pecks against my cheek.

“You're going to get into trouble with the commission,” I warn, making no effort to put a stop to his actions of showering me with affection.

“Don't care,” he says, voice muffled where his face is buried in the crook of my neck.

“I know, but I do,” I say with a giggle, softly running a hand through his hair and pulling out a small twig that likely got stuck there when he was flying.

“I wanna kiss you,” he admits quietly, the sadness shining through in his tone. My brows draw together in a sympathetic frown, only able to imagine how trapped he feels, bound by the HPSC’s rules and regulations.

As much as I would have loved for him to kiss me right then, I knew it only spelled trouble for the both of us. The way his arms were wrapped around me now was already bordering on the limits set for us by the commission. Anything else would definitely end in ruin.

“Kei,” I gently warn, and he gets the message hidden behind the word, pulling his face from my neck and standing upright, releasing my form and taking a small step back. His lips are jutted out in a pout, and his brows are settled in a light frown, pulling yet another soft giggle from me at how adorable he looks.

Picking up the feather around my neck again, I place it against my lips to give it a kiss, and Keigo's cheeks flare up in a blush. 

“I'll give you a proper kiss when you get home after patrol, Pretty Bird,” I promise, never missing the way my boyfriend’s eyes light up in excitement. Like a kiss from me is some holy gift bestowed on him from above.

“I'm holding you to that,” Keigo says, wings flapping behind him and sending a gust of wind my way as he rises up in the air. He gives me a final wave and blows me a kiss before he flies away, leaving me alone on the ground. 

My eyes fall from the sky and land on Kiki, who is staring forward with a stunned expression, mouth hanging open in pure bewilderment and shock, as if I'm the one that just tried to steal her boyfriend. The ridiculous notion causes me to laugh, catching her attention and bringing her focus back to reality.

With a smug, self-satisfied smirk, I pull the feather between my fingers again to hold it out on display for the woman, my other hand raising to flip her the bird. (Pun fully intended.)

˗ˋ Bonus ˊ˗

“Hello my love.”

Keigo tackles me into the couch’s cushions, and I giggle freely at the chirps filling the air and the lips tickling my ear. I scrunch my nose at the sensation, hands burying themselves in Keigo's hair to try and reel him in a little.

“Hi Pretty Bird,” I greet back, earning me a happy chirp at the nickname. “I missed you too.”

“Hmm,” Keigo hums, placing another peck on my cheek and pulling back to place his forehead against mine. “Where's my promised kiss?”

My lips tug into a smile, and I can't resist the urge to tease him at least a little.

“Where's my—”

I'm interrupted by Keigo’s phone ringing, his ringtone blaring from the coffee table and disrupting the peace of our shared apartment.

We stare at the lit-up screen for a moment, both of us able to recognize the caller ID as that belonging to the HPSC. My stomach twists nervously, and I shoot Keigo a concerned glance.

“Did you get into trouble?” I question, fearing the answer would be yes. 

Keigo looks to me as well, ignoring the phone still ringing in the background. His lips are pulled into a guilty smile, brows furrowed nervously. “I wouldn't exactly call it trouble,” he says, tilting his head to the side. 

In his attempt to avoid any events that may have transpired earlier that afternoon, I find my concern melting away, replaced by fondness and endearment.

“Shouldn't you answer that?” I question, pointing to the phone still ringing on the coffee table.

Keigo sends a feather out to retrieve his phone, inspecting it in his hand before pressing the ‘decline’ button and tossing the device over his shoulder.

“Nah,” he says, lips curling into a lazy smirk. “I'd rather take that kiss now.”

I shake my head and roll my eyes, cupping his face all the same and pulling him closer to slot our lips together; the action so fluid and natural. Like it was always meant to be Keigo's lips and no one else's.

[kasagia]

hi, can you do a one-shot for klaus, where he has a crush on y/n, and they have a one-night stand, and Klaus is sad because he thinks he won't see her again, but then he gets the news that y/n n is pregnant with his daughter (reader gets pregnant, no hayley, y/n is Hope's biological mother) and klaus takes the news well, because it's someone he loves and takes the pregnancy as an opportunity to make t /n love him.

Making her love me

Pairing: Klaus Mikaelson x fem! reader Word count: 7,4k (way too long, sorry not sorry) Warning(s): smut mention, panic attack (a little), swearing, and typical TVD violence. Nonsense from me: I'm so excited to post it since it's my first request/ask or whatever I should call it. I hope it's basically what you asked for, Gallus Anonymous! <3

Klaus Mikaelson loved Y/N Y/S.

The original hybrid was hopelessly in love with her since the first time he met her on his family's ball. He will always remember that day.

She looked like an angel. Well, maybe more like a devil (judging by the fact that part of her hair was arranged in two small buns imitating horns), but still, she was the most beautiful girl at the party (and maybe in the whole world).

When he saw her, dancing in her black-golden dress with one of Salvatore's brothers, he knew that this girl would be his at the end of the day. Even if he has to fight with these bloody, young vampires.

Unfortunately, Y/N didn't have the same feeling when she first saw him. As a proud member of a Mystic Falls group (who returned to the town after a school exchange), she was obligated to hate the Mikaelsons.

But she must admit to herself that the man with the British accent was incredibly hot.

Damon, noticing Klaus's sudden interest in his friend, decided to use this to his advantage and pushed Y/N into the arms of their nemesis. Klaus was delighted. Y/N disgusted.

The original hybrid stuck to her for the rest of the evening, forgetting all about Caroline. Y/N has since become Klaus Mikaelson's official distraction. And she wasn't happy about it at all.

Her friends would use the Siphon Witch whenever they needed to keep Klaus occupied or to ease his bloodlust after doing something stupid (like stealing white oak stakes right under his nose and 12 obedient hybrids. Great plan, Damon!).

Y/N would have to wisely bump into Mikaelson and spend some time with him until the Mystic Falls heroes fix the shit they made. At least the girl was much less stressed compared to her friends, and sometimes she really enjoyed the company of the hybrid.

Once, a man took her to a cafe-studio where little-known Mystic Falls artists would gather. She returned to the Salvator Brothers' estate in navy blue paint, with little constellations painted by Klaus on her face, arms, and neck. Damon barely refrained from making a sarcastic remark.

Fortunately, Stefan saved him from her very likely wrath, because every time someone makes jokes about Y/N's relationship with Klaus, she gets mad and loses control over her magic power. Once, Bonnie had to repair Stefan's motorcycle. The vampire learned his lesson then and tried not to annoy her again. Sometimes, though, he seriously considered letting his older brother cross the line. He wondered if Damon would cry over a damaged car.

With time passing, Klaus had only a stronger crush on her. Everyone knows that. Expect Y/N herself.

At best, she thought the hybrid regarded her as some sort of friend or a distraction between his villainous grand schemes. There could be no feelings between them. Not when she already had a very loving boyfriend whom the original hybrid found out about at a 1920s school party.

She bewitched him completely then. And he was ready to tell her the truth about his real feelings for her and try to make her his, but then he saw this other guy holding her like he wanted to hold her the first time he met her. For Klaus, this man didn't deserve her attention; that human didn't realize how valuable a treasure he was holding in his hands right now. Klaus wanted to go away and let Y/N enjoy dancing with this lesser man. He really does. But when she turned and looked at him with these beautiful, delightful eyes, he couldn't just disappear without exchanging one last word with her.

After all, Klaus was a selfish man.

"You don't mind if I cut into you." Klaus' voice came from behind me, making me shiver.

"Yes. Actually, we do." My boyfriend snarled, recognizing the guy who was "hanging dangerously around me." He had no idea about the supernatural shite we were in and I had no idea how to tell him all of this (or just didn't want to).

Klaus just smiled unfazed, catching his gaze.

"Why don't you go somewhere far away and come back in 20 minutes? You can be useful and bring the beautiful lady something to drink." my boyfriend dutifully obeyed, leaving me with a smug hybrid. "Shall we, love?" he grabbed my hand and pulled me to him, swaying to some slow, romantic song without waiting for my response.

"Why do you always have to prove you're the alpha male?"

"I don't have to prove anything, love, I'm the alpha male." he replied, offended. I rolled my eyes, sighing.

"You would've loved the 1920s, Y/N. Girls were reckless, sexy, and fun. They literally used to dance until they dropped." he turned me around, smiling slyly.

"Since they were so reckless and drunk, I suppose it was easier for you to find a lover then."

"You should be nicer to me. I'm leaving town tomorrow." I shifted my gaze to him, shocked by the information he had thrown at me. "I'd invite you to come with me, but we both know that you're not ready to accept my offer. Perhaps one day you'll turn up at my door and let me show you what the world has to offer."

"How many girls fell for it? A magical tour of the world with an all-powerful original who plays with them like toys?"

"You mark my words. Small-town boy, small-town life won't be enough for you." he said, completely ignoring my previous words.

"And how do you know what's enough for me?"

"Because I know you, Y/N. Do you imagine marrying that stupid man with whom you were dancing later? Giving him children, living too short to make your real dreams come true?" I wanted to look away from him, but he gently grabbed my chin, forcing me to confront him and all my fears at the same time. "You want love, trust, passion, excitement, and even a little power, and unlike this fool, I can give you all of this and more. Just say a word."

"But for what price?" I asked, taking a big breath.

I realized we were much closer than was appropriate for a dance, but neither of us cared. His gaze was moving from my eyes to my mouth. I licked my chapped lips unconsciously, stuck in some incomprehensible anticipation. Only for what?

"Kaus. Y/N. I finally found you two. We have a problem. Klaus' mother is back." Stefan interrupted the moment between us.

I swear I could hear a little swear from the hybrid before he took my hand and led me towards Stefan, who was hurrying away.

After that, T/N didn't get a chance to meet Klaus again. Since they were on opposite camps in finding the cure, Y/N tried to avoid the hybrid at all costs. He just wanted to use her. Seduce her with his sweet words to make her do everything he wanted. She had no other explanation.

Klaus, on the other hand, tried to get her out of his head in every way he knew how. He couldn't keep up with adding new canvases for the portraits of his one-sided crush. His siblings were starting to worry about him.

Especially after he found out her boyfriend was going to propose to her. (Damon has never been prouder of being a gossip boy.) This overflowed the hybrid's cup of bitterness.

Kol and Elijah walked around their brother like they were on eggshells. Rebekah, on the other hand, has no such pity. It was her occasion to tease Klaus, like he was doing whenever she fell in love (at least Rebekah didn't want to kill Y/N like SOMEONE).

But nevertheless, she was the one to tell Klaus that Y/N rejected her boyfriend's proposal. The original never loved his sister more. He was happy that Y/N was now single, and he even thought that in the near future he may have a little chance with her since there were no other competitors for her heart.

But even in his wildest dreams, Klaus would not have dared to think that Y/N would knock on his door that same day and greedily bite into his lips as soon as he opened it. And not that she'd start ripping his clothes off and pushing him into his bedroom (which surprised him, given that she knew how to get there without his directions).

He never would have thought that one night would change his life forever.

~•♤♤♤•~

Y/N's POV

I sighed, rolling over to the other side of the bed as the first rays of sunlight somehow hit my eye. I always kept the windows closed. How come I didn't do it this time? Reluctantly, I opened one eyes to look at my treacherous bedroom window, only to found out that I wasn't in my room.

Also, not in my bed.

And not in any clothes.

AND DEFINITELY NOT ALONE.

As soon as I looked at the calm, sleeping, and clearly satisfied (judging by his disheveled hair) Klaus, memories of last night started flooding back to me.

Panicked, I looked around the room for my clothes, trying to ignore the sight of overturned furniture, a broken mirror, and even a dent in the wall. Unsuccessfully. My face has never been so close to the color of my blood.

Once I'd traced my things, I carefully got out of bed and dressed as quietly as I could, closing the vampire's bedroom door behind me. Now all I had to do was get out of the house full of originals unnoticed. Simple, right?

"Y/N, darling! What a pleasure to see you this morning. How do you feel?" Klaus' little brother jumped out of nowhere and threw one arm around my shoulders, making me come inside the house again.

"Hello Kol. Bye Kol." I tried to dodge him, but he sped up to stand in front of me.

"Wait a minute half-witch. You're going to leave my brother like this? After your… noisy night? He'll be devastated. Was he not up to the task? I could teach him a bit if that's a problem for you. You have my word that within a week you won't be able to stop…"

"Kol! For the bloody hell, stop this awkward conversation. I'm sorry for him, usually we keep him in a coffin." Rebekah cut him off and stood next to him, glaring at him furiously.

"Um… no problem, I guess. If you don't mind, I'm gonna go now."

With even redder cheeks, I ran out of the mansion and, at the speed of light, got into my car, driving far away from this town. I needed rest, and I knew only one person who would be willing to take me under their roof without any questions.

"Hi Katherine. Where are you right now?"

~•♤♤♤•~

"Are you sure it's just food poisoning? Won't you die here suddenly? Do you want my blood?" Katherine flooded me with questions as I returned to our table.

It's been 2 months since my "great escape," as Damon liked to call it, from Mystic Falls. At that time, I was traveling with Katherine around the United States, doing what I wanted to do most: seeing the world (starting with small things like staying in all states). After the brunette gave the cure to Elijah (while experiencing her epic love story with him, which ended with her heartbreak over Elena's meddling and Elijah's doubts), she decided to accompany me on my quest.

I had to arrange everything in my head. What I wanted out of life, who I wanted to be, and so on.

That was the main purpose of this trip.

In fact, I helped Katherine heal her broken heart and tried to avoid the topic of Klaus Mikaelson like the plague. With small or big successes depending on the day.

Sometimes Damon, Stefan, or Bonnie would mention how snappy he'd become after my sudden departure or that he was asking them about my whereabouts. The worst was his drunken voicemails he left. They ended after the first month, but they were the biggest test of my perseverance. I had to piece my twisted life together before adding my love problems with the world's (nearly) oldest living vampire to the puzzle.

At least that was the plan until those New Orleans bitches got me.

As soon as we left the bar, some girls accosted us and knocked us out with magic. I woke up in some cold, dank, musty crypt with Katherine by my side. At least I wasn't alone. We both had a better chance of defeating those witches. The new thing in those two months was my sudden ability to do magic without any source of energy. It looked like my abilities were starting to screw up too.

"Are you Y/N Y/S?" one of the witches approached us, staring at me warily.

"One and only. May I know who I am having the pleasure of?"

"Sophie Deveraux."

"Sophie. Some time ago, I knew a girl with this name. She got under my skin too. She is dead now. You can guess what happened to her."

"Yeah. It's definitely her. I couldn't imagine someone more of this psycho's type." she told her friends. The women grabbed us both and led us out of the makeshift cell to drag us to the main hall of the crypt.

"Allright. Can one of us tell why you are holding us here?"

"We need you, sugar, but your friend is just an accessory, so if you want both of you to get out of this somehow, you'll keep quiet." seeing that I had no intention of objecting, the unknown woman smiled victoriously. "Good girl."

I gave her a sweet smile before breaking her neck with a flick of my wrist. There was a sudden commotion around us. Katherine suffered a brain aneurysm after one of the witches raised her hand on her. The brunette screamed once before someone else appeared in the crypt, tearing out the heart of the witch who was attacking her.

Elijah.

Elijah came to save the day.

"I thought you wanted to talk, and both Katherine and Y/N were supposed to be unharmed." he said in his legal tone, shoving his hands in his pockets as he stepped between me and Kath. The woman was as pleased with the presence of the original as I was.

"She started." Sophie pointed at me. Elijah turned to look at me. I shrugged.

"You make me." I answered her with a malicious smile.

"Y/N." the man said warningly. This noble bastard won't tell me what to do.

"Elijah. Nice to see you. Maybe you can tell us why we've been locked in some fucking tomb? Is this some kind of revenge of yours, or did we get caught in the crossfire of Mikaelson's skirmishes purely by chance?"

"I would like to know that too. You wanted to be heard. Speak, before I change my mind." he turned to the witches without changing his defensive position.

I gave Katherine a brief, knowing glance. The woman reluctantly nodded at me. Great. We have personal cannon fodder if things get hotter.

"Marcel Gerard, ruler of the city, forbade the witches of my coven to use any magic. We want your help. Especially your brother's."

"Niklaus? You have to make him go to town first. And as far as I know, she's not in the mood for any outings right now."

"Even if he gets a message from her?"

"Your mother didn't teach you not to point at people?"I growled at her as she did it again. "Besides, I didn't text… You have my phone, don't you?" I asked, realizing it was their only way of contacting the hybrid. The woman tossed me my phone with a sly smirk.

"Read." I scowled but followed her instructions anyway, wondering what it was that would make him stick his nose out of Mystic Falls.

"I need you, Klaus. New Orleans. Witches cemetery. Please help me. Yeah. I can already tell you that he won't come. We're waiting here for no reason."

"And why is that?"

"This news reeks of a damsel in distress from a mile away. I would never write to him like that. I also doubt if he even cares what happens to…" I stopped when I heard someone's scream in the distance. A man mentioned earlier had burst in with blood on his hands and lips.

Well… mistakes happen.

"Great! Now that we're all here, we can start. We need your help." The woman began to explain the whole thing about Marcel and the witches. Everything was clear except for one thing.

"And where exactly is my role in this Machiavellian plan of yours?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

"And who said I would agree to it instead of just killing you all and taking Y/N out of here?"

"I can take myself and KATHERINE out, Klaus. I don't need your help."

"Oh, do you?" he took a few steps towards me to stand in front of me. I snorted, returning his dark gaze. There's no way I'll be afraid of him.

"That's how we get to the main topic." Sophie paused, catching our attention again. Klaus stood next to his brother, giving the witch his famous sinister look while he was waiting for her to continue. "You see, I have a special gift for knowing when a woman is pregnant."

"And how exactly is this fact important to us?"

"She's carrying Klaus' child."

I broke the sudden silence in the crypt with a very loud laugh.

"And you're insane or a very, very bad liar."

"I'm telling the truth! You're pregnant with his child." she tried desperately to convince us.

"Vampires can't procreate, ergo, I am not in any false pregnancy."

"Vampires can't. But werewolves can. And Klaus is both."

"That's ridiculous. Klaus, say something! She didn't tell the truth, did she?" I tried to find support from the speechless Klaus. By the way, I think it was the first time I saw him without words.

"Y/N, be quite for a second."

"What? Elijah, are you believing her?" the man responded with nothing, staring at me with a strange look.

Klaus walked over to me. He stopped a few steps in front of me, staring at my belly as if he was hypnotized.

"I can hear it." he whispered, looking at me in disbelief.

"Hear what?"

"The baby's heart."

"What? But... it's impossible." I suddenly felt my heart beating much faster, as I was unable to catch my breath properly.

"It is. Like being a hybrid or a witch without her own magic. And yet we're here. And we gonna have a baby."

"No. That's a lie. I... we... I need fresh air." I avoided the brothers standing in front of me and headed the way Klaus had come from earlier. Unfortunately, one of these witches blocked my way and grabbed my arm tightly.

"You're not going anywhere until we settle the details of our deal." right after she said that, I felt her hand being removed from me. I was pulled against someone's strong chest. The familiar smell of Klaus' perfume brought me a momentary sense of relief.

"Touch her again, and I'll make sure that's the last thing you gonna do before I take your miserable life away from you." Klaus growled, tightening his protective grip on me and scouring the present witches with a hostile glare.

"Calm down, both of you. Neither of you will have any use for her if she faints here. Klaus, take her outside. Elijah and I will take care of everything."

Klaus glanced at Elijah. His brother nodded, encouraging him to leave. The hybrid took my hand gently and led us out onto the streets of New Orleans. We stopped in a square. Klaus sat me down on a bench and knelt in front of me, carefully watching me take slow, deep breaths, trying to calm down.

When I was sure my magic wouldn't suddenly blow up the whole city, I opened my eyes tentatively to meet the vampire's concerned gaze. I swallowed, turning my eyes away from him. He was still kneeling in front of me with his hands on my lap.

"Are you better?"

"I think so." I glanced at him nervously, fiddling with the bracelets on my wrist to internally brace myself for asking the original thousand-year-old hybrid about something incredibly... stupid. "Can you... go to the one place with me?"

"Are you sure you want to go back there, love?" I shivered when I heard this familiar nickname. I missed this. Klaus misread my reaction as he shrugged off his leather jacket and covered me with it.

"Thanks. I don't want to go back there. I think, well, I need to be perfectly sure it's true that..." I stopped, unable to say the words aloud. It would have been too real then, and right now I couldn't accept even the slightest possibility.

"That we're going to be parents?"

"Yhm. Will you go with me to the gynecologist? I don't want to do this alone."

"Anything you want, love. I'll check the address." he sat next to me and started searching for the location of the nearest clinic on his phone.

As we sat together in silence, I began to wonder at the absurdity of this situation. And the improbable, rational behavior of the hybrid sitting next to me.

"Klaus?" I asked, yanking him off the phone for a moment.

"Yes?"

"You're not... you know. Crazy about this? Or something like that. I mean... I thought you gonna ask me if it's yours, of course if it even exist, but still. You're so... calm. Like not you."

"Would you rather me to run mad around town and deny our baby?" I chuckled, imagining his lunatic walk through the streets.

"No. To be honest, I would have expected something like that than this, but it's a nice surprise. It's enough that one of us is scared to death. Thank you for keeping a cold head."

"Don't get used to it, love. C'mon. I know where to go."

In less than five minutes, we got to the building and waited in line. There were many other people in the waiting room, but what caught my attention the most was a couple sitting in the corner. Husband and wife. The woman was probably in her third trimester (or had quadruplets. God, please let me have only one if there are any.) The man whispered something tenderly into her belly, and she smiled at him with just as much adoration. Involuntarily, I imagined Klaus and myself in this situation. I glanced at the tense vampire next to me. He was also staring at the couple.

"Y/N Y/S?"

"It's me."

"Are you going alone or do you have any company, dear?"

"My boyfriend is coming with me." I said, taking Klaus' hand. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw an amused smirk on his lips. We started walking hand in hand behind the doctor. The vampire leaned toward me.

"Boyfirend, huh?" he whispered in my ear, clearly pleased with the situation.

"Don't get used to it, love." I repeated his earlier words, trying to imitate his tone of voice. The man chuckled, politely following the doctor with me.

I had to admit that it was funny to watch Klaus in such a... strange situation. His nervous, slightly stressed demeanor gave me courage as I lay there waiting for the ultrasound results. The cold gel tickled slightly, but I gritted my teeth, waiting for the final confirmation of my fate.

"There it is. That's your baby. Congratulations!"

Klaus put his hand on my shoulder and leaned gently toward the small screen. I stared at the tiny speck as if it were enchanted. It really was happening. I will be a mother.

"Do you want to hear your baby's heartbeat?"

"Could you give us first a second alone, doctor?" Klaus spoke as he saw me still staring blankly at the screen.

"Of course. I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Oh, my God. It's real. We'll have a baby." I choked out after a few seconds of silence between us.

"You took that information really quickly, love."

I punched him lightly on the shoulder, finally turning my attention to the man standing next to me.

"Stop joking with me. Aren't you scared? I mean, a few hours ago we were on the other side of the country, living our lives, and now we're looking at some stain, which is our baby. Are you that calm, or am I being dramatic?"

"Of course I'm afraid, but I know we're going to figure it out. Maybe if it were someone other than you, I would be paranoid and mad, but it's you. With you by my side? Nothing can go wrong." I burst into tears at his emotional confession. Stupid pregnancy hormones.

"Come here, you idiot." I wrapped my arms around his waist and snuggled into him. "I hope Katherine got our things back."

"Yes. Speaking about her..." he said, moving away from me to look at my face.

"She is staying with me and you're not going to kill her." I said it in a tone that left no room for any objection. It's been 500 years; whatever conflict there was between them should be over by now.

"Absolutely not."

"Yes? So be prepared that if this little one is a girl, she'll be named after aunt Katherine, who couldn't be there for her mom because her dad is acting like he's on his period."

"You know you've been pregnant for a few hours, and you're already using it against me?" he asked resignedly. The grimace on his face was a clear sign of my victory.

"Get used to it. You're stuck with me for a while."

"I think I can work with that. Let's go home. I think uncle Elijah and Katherine will want to see the first photo of the newest member of the Mikaelson family."

~•♤♤♤•~

*Two months leter*

"Good morning, Y/N"

"Morning Elijah." I grunted from my book, never taking my eyes off the text I was reading.

"Have you eaten yet? Want me to make you pancakes?"

"Actually..." I didn't have time to answer, because an extremely happy hybrid came out of the kitchen with a large tray on which was my breakfast.

Elijah looked at his brother in disbelief as he sat comfortably next to me on the couch and began feeding me with a fork while I continued to read my book as if nothing had happened.

"Niklaus. Can you explain?" his brother was shifting his bewildered gaze between us.

"His werewolf hormones tell him to look after me. So when I told him I wasn't having breakfast today because I didn't want to stand in this heat by the stove, he made it his morning's main goal to make me a decent meal. At least Marcel and the witches will get some rest from him today."

"Werewolf hormones?" very amused Kol entered the living room, staring at the hybrid with a malicious smirk.

"Yes, brother. Werewolf hormones." Klaus' cool tone caught my attention away from the book.

"Of course... your werewolf hormones. So that's what they call it now. Just don't flood Y/N with this sudden tenderness, or the girl will get scared and run away from you again." before Klaus could make any move towards his younger brother, I grabbed his hand and moved him so that I could get more comfortable on his chest.

"He is weird." I commented as I took a grape from the bowl and popped it into Klaus' mouth, much to Elijah's astonishment.

"Weird? No. Just a little joker. I have to go now. I'll meet you later, Niklaus. Please, don't start without me."

"Do I want to know what he was talking about?" I asked, giving him a curious look.

"It depends. Will you get angry?"

"If it has to do with that teenage witch, Davina, that your adopted son treats like a daughter? Probably." his silence was an answer enough. I pulled away from him, eyeing him disapprovingly.

"Klaus."

"Yes, love?"

"Promise me you're not going to hurt her."

"And what does it matter? I'm not Elijah, how sure are you that I'll keep my word?" my angry look, however, fortunately made him give up. "Alright. She'll be fine." he sighed, rolling his eyes.

"Thank you. On the way back, you can stop by the store and buy me more chocolate and ice cream."

"As you wish."

He got up from the couch, placed a quick kiss on my already-showing belly, and left the living room, passing Rebekah as she entered. His sister looked at me curiously.

"What?" I asked, fed up with her penetrating gaze.

"Nothing. You two seemd very... compatible with each other. I'm impressed."

"Well, he's the father of my baby. We have to get along. For the baby's sake, it's best if we're friends."

"Surely." she hummed, completely unconvinced.

"Rebekah. What do you mean?"

"I mean that "just friends" wouldn't act that way. My brother never treated anyone with such affection. He's doing everything he can to impress you. For a bloody hell, he even changed his plan to take over the city for you!"

"She is right." Katherine walked past her and threw herself on the couch next to me. "He does everything he can think of to make you fall in love with him. For example, that "almost date" at the best restaurant in New Orleans last week. Or the fact that you've been given unlimited access to his credit cards, safes, stashes of clothes, and God knows what else. Or that weekend out of town so you could relax. Do you think they seriously didn't have a second room with two beds in the hotel?"

"Nik used the one bed trope? He's even more desperate than I previously thought." Rebekah snorted as she poured herself a glass of whiskey.

"Even if what you say is true, which I doubt, I have no intention of changing anything. Klaus and I work well as friends, and for the sake of this child, we will continue to be them so."

"So you don't love him back?" Rebekah questioned, coming to me, so she could stay in front of me. Her evaluative look somehow made me feel guilty.

"It doesn't matter what I want or feel. The most important thing for me is my child and I will do everything to ensure at least a little normality for them. If Klaus and I tried to be together and it didn't work out... At least this child deserves reasonably normal parents."

"What if you were happy together and created a loving family? Wouldn't that be better for everyone?"

"It's not worth the risk, Bekah." I replied, getting up from the couch to escape the inconvenient conversation with the original vampire.

"Risk of what?"

Losing him.

I didn't answer as I left the room. I decided to hide in the library for the rest of the day and try to forget the doubts the blonde had stirred up in me.

But my wild imagination did not give up so easily. I began to consider a possible relationship with Klaus. Despite what I told the girls, I wasn't blind to Klaus'… flirtatious remarks and behavior. I saw every long, stolen glance at me, every quick look at my lips during any conversation, and most of all, the longing shining in his eyes that was so similar to mine and that I somehow managed to hide from him.

I wanted to spend my life with him. But I also knew that I'm not enough to keep him away from his scheming and fighting for power. For the good of this baby, I had to be content with being his formal one-night stand and friend at best. Even if my heart yearned for him every single day.

Thinking about my unattainable future, I didn't even notice when I got to the library. But I certainly saw two people kissing in the room.

Klaus and Camille. At least he cleared up all my doubts.

I was probably the only one who noticed how my heart shattered into a million pieces. At least until Klaus pulled away from her, confused, and spotted me in the doorway.

"Y/N." he whispered, terrified.

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to interrupt… I'll leave you alone."

"No! Y/N, wait!" he shouted, trying to get to me, but before he got even a step closer, I used my magic to teleport myself to a New Orleans street.

I leaned against the building next to me as the first post-teleport symptoms started to hit me and my head started spinning a bit. I shouldn't have done it while being pregnant, but well… I couldn't stay in the same room with these two any longer.

Once I had recovered, I decided to order myself a hot chocolate and sit with it in the park to collect my thoughts. I had to come up with some clever, eloquent way out of this predicament. And most of all, refrain from crying.

Thinking about this situation, after all, everything happened as I wanted. Klaus had found someone else to adore, so I could stop worrying about the deterioration of my relationship with the Mikaelsons.

We would be friends.

Just as I wished.

The only problems were my stupid broken heart and festering feelings of jealousy.

I wiped a tear running down my cheek with the sleeve of my sweatshirt. I shook my head, taking a few deep breaths to calm myself down. Something that stupid couldn't get me off balance. I had to be strong. If not for myself, then at least for this little one.

My phone buzzed. I pulled it out of my pants pocket and glanced at the screen to see the photo of Klaus sleeping with me on the couch that I had set as his contact picture.

I remembered that night. It was one of the first month at the Mikaelson Mansion and also my favorite.

"Can't sleep?" Klaus stepped out of the shadows to stand in front of the fireplace, which flames I had been staring at earlier.

"Not even tried."

"May I?" he asked, pointing to the blanket that covered me. I nodded, opening the hem so he could slip into the space next to me. He put his arm around me, moving us into a more comfortable position. One of his hands automatically went to my slightly rounded belly. I sighed, resting my head against his shoulder, and returned to staring at the flames of the fire. "What's bothering you?"

"Remember when Tyler kidnapped me and…"

"Please tell me you're not going to lecture me again about how I shouldn't have attacked Elijah." he interrupted me with a groan of displeasure.

"I'm not, but your brother didn't deserve this. Even if he was talking some shit about you. You knew I would never believe it."

"You wouldn't?"

"Of course not. You always try to protect your family, not always in a good way, I have to admit, but still, I know you would never use your own child for your games. I trust you." he tightened his grip on me and cleared his throat.

"It's good to know you're at least on my side, love."

"Your siblings too. If you'd just let them in, maybe you'd see it too, but that's a topic for another time."

"I know better ways to spend my free time with you, love. One of them brought us to this situation." he smiled slyly, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Very funny, but we have to talk about something serious."

"I'm sorry. What are you thinking about?"

"Have you ever thought about whether there is a chance for our child to be… a tribrid?"

"Tribrid?" he asked, confused, stopping to play with my hair.

"You know. You're half vampire, half werewolf; I'm a witch, siphon, but still… Can our baby inherit all of this from us?"

"They might as well only have the gene of a werewolf, a witch, a vampire, or a hybrid. I think all options are possible. Maybe in my mother's grimoire we can find the answer to that question. These books are as old as the world."

"You can include the birth of a miracle baby in your search. I hope we won't summon a demon into the world." I joked, turning slightly to look at his face again.

"I thought you already knew that the demon has been walking around this world for a long time, and you're cuddling with him on the couch. By the way, it's our search."

"Our? You seriously want to just give me access to your mother's precious books? The same ones that have so much knowledge inside them that you won't let any other witch see them whole, or even your siblings?" I was shocked. I would never in my life expect something like this from him, but on the other hand, he has done astonishing things many times before.

"You're different."

"Like how?"

"I trust you."

"You did?" I whispered after a few seconds of silence. Those words were more striking than three others of equal importance he might have said to me. Klaus doesn't trust people that easily, I think he falls in love with them more often…

"You wouldn't be the first to hear about all my plans if I didn't. Besides, you're the mother of my heir..."

"Keep treating your family like a fucking dynasty, and you'll have to buy me a crown and my own castle." I cut him off when I heard that horrible term for our baby.

"Why do you need a castle when you already have your throne, love?"

"You're impossible." I chuckled at this awful attempt at flirting.

"That's why you like me."

"Maybe." I yawned suddenly, unaware of how tired I was. I felt the hybrid's soft, warm lips against my hair before both the blanket cocoon and his grip tightened around me.

"Sleep. I'll stay with you and I will chase away your nightmares."

"How did you know?" I asked, feeling him gently brush away the strands of hair that had fallen over my eyes.

"I know you. Besides, I can hear everything through these thin walls. I would rather hear your screams for other reasons than nightmares."

"Deviant."

"Only yours." I heard as if through a haze before falling into a deep, peaceful sleep.

The next day, Katherine found us sleeping together and took a picture of us. One of my favorites.

Before I could answer the phone, I felt someone snatch it from my hand, and something hit my head at breakneck speed, knocking me out. Stupid witches.

~•♤♤♤•~

~A few hours later~

I was kneeling in front of the crib that Katherine and Rebekah had set up after the whole witches' fiasco. After those damn witches kidnapped me, they cast some strange spell on me and the baby to speed up her (as it turned out) growth and thus her birth.

A few hours ago, I was a human pregnant with a hybrid. Now I was a heretic, the mother of the thyrbid, the most powerful creature on earth.

I guess life with the Mikaelsons was all about sudden, unexpected changes. At least they weren't boring.

Elijah, Kol, Klaus, and Marcel were running around the city, killing the last witches who had allied with Esther. Rebekah and Katherine have been delegated to look after me and the baby until the boys get the hang of the situation. A bit sexist, but I didn't have the energy to argue about it. Not after I so impressively returned to the graveyard and killed half the coven.

After feeding on the blood from the bag, the girls gave me a moment alone with my sleeping daughter. Her first day in this world, and she was already trying to get killed.

"Y/N." Klaus' tired sigh snapped me out of my thoughts. For the first time in hours, I shifted my gaze to something other than my daughter and met a face as tired and bloodstained as mine.

"Hi." he knelt uncertainly beside me, glancing at the baby sleeping in the cradle.

"She is beautiful. So similar to you." he whispered softly, afraid he would wake her up at any moment.

"She has a look of the devil in her eyes. That's all you."

The girl stirred in her sleep, as if hearing us talk about her. Two loving, child-infatuated looks appeared on Klaus' and mine's faces.

"She needs a name. You made a decision?"

"I was thinking about Zoe and Caitlyn. But I think we both know that Katherine Jr. is the best fit for her."

"God no." I chuckled, trying not to wake the baby after seeing his terrified look..

"Got a counterproposal?"

"Hope."

"Hope. That's actually nice. Hope Mikaelson."

"Mikaelson?"

"What? Are you not the father?" I asked teasingly.

"I'm but... I thought you'd want her to have your last name."

"Mikaelson suits her better." I replied with a shrug.

"Well, then I guess it will be Hope Y/N Mikaelson." I smiled at him, resting my head tiredly on his shoulder. We both stared in awe at the new member of the Mikaelson family.

"How did you come to that? Hope?"

"With Elijah's little help. When I found you… dead. Elijah said that I ruined our family's last hope by making out with this bartender, which, by the way, is not exactly true."

"Klaus..."

"No. Let me finish. I've never been so helpless and scared in all my life as I was a few hours ago. Never, not even in the worst, darkest moments of my life, have I been so broken, so despairing, than when I held your dead body. Whatever you think now, whatever you feel, the truth has to be told. I love you. I've loved you since the first time I saw you, and each day only brings me closer to you. You're the only one who can make me so mad, terrified, or happy. You taught me unconditional love, and even if you don't share my feelings, I want you to know that you completely changed me. It will be my life's purpose to make sure that our daughter and you are safe and satisfied." I stared at him with tears in my eyes, listening to his touching confession.

"I was so mad at you and Camille, but... I can't blame her; falling for you is as easy as breathing. Not when I did it a long time ago."

"You did?"

"Yes. And I don't want to hide it anymore. I can't hide it anymore. As I turned into vampire, everything I feel for you since all this time is more intensive. My desires, my love, and my longing - I feel them so much that I can't even imagine spending one more hour without your words, touch, or kiss. I don't want to live in a world where we're just friends. So if you promise that this is forever, then I..."

Klaus cut me off, pulling me into a longing, long-expected, passionate kiss. I moaned into his mouth, pulling him as close as possible by the strands of his hair. At one point, I bit his lip until it bled. My new ability was immediately activated. My fangs slid out of my gums by themselves, digging into his lip and sucking more of his delicious, sweet blood. We broke apart when we were completely out of breath. Klaus licked his lips, staring lustfully at my black-veined face and bloody mouth.

"I promise. You're mine. For always and forever, love."

"And you're mine. For always and forever."

"Aw... Congratulations, Nik! It only took you one child to make her yours. I thought it would take you at least three." Kol suddenly appeared in the doorway, interrupting our moment.

Klaus growled at him and threw the baby monitor at his brother. Kol dodged at the last second and tossed the device back at him, sticking out his tongue before he ran as fast as his legs could take him. I giggled, drawing the hybrid into a tender kiss.

Yeah, I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

[sundeathh]

aizawa with a younger sister in his class and they dont get along well? maybe some angst of some sort?? Thank youuu <333

Here you go, I hope you enjoy it. I added some angst but only after finishing it I realized I also made it oddly comforting.

Family Ties

Head-canon  |  Masterlist 

Pairing: Brother!Aizawa × Sister!Reader

Fandom: BNHA | MHA  | Words: 950

The air in Class 1-A was tense as Shota Aizawa, known for his stern demeanor, navigated through the students, making sure to keep a watchful eye on each of them. His younger sister, though, happened to be in the same class. And unfortunately, your relationship had always been strained.

One day, during a particularly challenging training session, Aizawa's patience wore thin. He singled you out for your lack of focus and commitment.

"You there," he barked, his eyes narrowing in on you. "This is not a game. Your lack of attention could cost lives in a real battle. Shape up or you won't last a day in the hero world."

You bit back a retort, the frustration evident in your eyes. Aizawa's scolding wasn't just about your performance; it was a reflection of the strained dynamic between you two. The weight of his expectations hung heavy in the air.

After the class ended, Aizawa approached you, his expression a mix of concern and frustration, though you only took in the frustrated part. "You're not taking this seriously." He started. "You have potential, but you need to focus. Heroics is not a path for the careless."

You resisted the urge to snap back, his words hanging in the air as a silent agreement of the unresolved issues between you and your brother. Shota sighed, running a hand over his face. He wasn't satisfied with your silence, as if he wanted some kind of acknowledgement from you.

Then, when all of your retorts to his scolding gave space to silence, Aizawa grew frustrated enough to finally adress the root issue.

During classes, Aizawa glanced your way several times, catching glimpses of the familiar scowl that mirrored his own. You avoided eye contact, burying yourself in your schoolwork every time. The tension between you and your brother had become a constant undercurrent.

A few days later, Aizawa lingered after class, hoping for a chance to address the underlying issues that had become a rule in your lives.

As the last student filed out, he sighed and spoke, facing you. "We need to talk."

You rolled your eyes, not in the mood for another lecture so soon. "What now? You gonna tell me how to stand properly or criticize my skills again?"

Shota's expression remained stoic. "This isn't about you. It's about us. We're family, and I don't want our relationship to be this way forever."

You scoffed, crossing your arms. "Well, maybe if you weren't so obsessed with your work, we could actually have a normal conversation."

Aizawa's gaze softened, a hint of regret in his eyes. "I know I'm not the best brother. I'm not good at expressing myself either. But I care about you. I just... I have a responsibility to these students, to be the best hero and teacher I can be."

You glanced away, a mix of frustration and hurt weighing on your heart. "So, that's it? Your hero duties are more important than your own family?"

He raised an eyebrow before proceeding, his voice quieter. "No, it's not that simple. But I need you to understand the choices I've made. I want you to be proud of your big brother."

You scoffed again, but this time, there was a glimmer of understanding in your eyes, though you didn't adress it with words. "Proud? How can I be proud when I feel like I barely know you?"

Aizawa sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "Maybe we can work on that. It's not going to change overnight, but I want to try."

Over the following weeks, Aizawa made a conscious effort to spend more time with you outside of class. Whether it was grabbing a quick meal or attending a local hero event together, the rigid walls between you began to crack.

Eventually, he even proposed training together, a mix of combat and quirk exercises. Despite the initial resistance, you found a common ground in your shared abilities. Slowly, you began to see a different side of your brother – not just the hero, but the person.

Attempting to normalize family interactions, Aizawa would invite you over for dinner sometimes. The awkwardness was always palpable, but the efforts didn't go unnoticed. It was a small step towards bridging the gap between your worlds.

As the months passed, Aizawa and you shared more moments together. Some were strained, others surprisingly pleasant.

One day, during a quiet moment, you looked at him and said, finally acknowledging his efforts. "You're doing your best, aren't you?" And for the first time, a genuine smile graced your face in front of him when he nodded.

As time went on, the sibling relationship between the both of you evolved. There were still disagreements, but the unspoken understanding grew stronger each day. Aizawa focused on learning how to balance his hero duties with family, and you slowly learned to appreciate the complexities of his world just as well.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated! Check the fixed post for requests & more details!

[celaenaeiln]

What do you think will happen if Batman!Bruce, Owlman!Thomas Wayne Jr and Batman!Thomas Wayne (are there other versions of Thomas Wayne aside just his civie? Similar to batman!Thomas?)

Bonus if the Dick Grayson is in one corner, along with Earth-3!Dick Grayson (and a version of Dick if Batman!Thomas or a version of TW has one) just watching

oh!!!

Of course Thomas Wayne has his very own Dick Grayson! It's canon for every batman to have a Dick Grayson! He actually dies to save his Dick which means a lot because Thomas Wayne!Batman is a cold, callous Batman who cares about nothing besides his own family.

Convergence Issue #4

"Your Batman. He died protecting you. Or trying to. The bond between you and Bruce Wayne echoes in every reality."

-And that's coming from a multiuniversal artificially forged god.

But putting the three version of Batman in a room together? Chaos. Pure and absolute chaos. First between the three of them, Thomas Wayne Jr would immediately try to kill Bruce. No doubt it's kill at first sight and Bruce after the Forever Evil crisis would try to punch the life out of his alternate world brother. Now Thomas Sr actually gives a damn about his family so he would punch both of his sons and talk to them about how they're family without sounding lovey-dovey because he's a hardened old man.

About Dick though, Thomas Jr would never forgive Bruce. He would think Bruce doesn't appreciate Dick enough, and he's wasting Dick's talents. His heart would eat itself out with jealousy and hatred that Bruce's Dick is still alive and healthy but his gone. Bruce, who has nearly lost his son and was perfectly willing to let the world die if it meant getting Dick out of that death trap in forever evil, is not going to take such an insult lying down. He would boast about how Dick is the best person he knows and throw the fact that his Dick is still alive back into Owlman's face which would enrage him even more.

Thomas Sr is quietly watching all of this unfold, occasionally making derogatory comments about how his two sons should be working together, not breaking up the family for Grayson to which Thomas Jr would reply that he is perfectly willing to take his father's version of his counterpart off his hands. Now his father would be dragged fists first into the fight cause - hey. Dick's his family now too. And the man's possessive over his only remaining family.

The three Dicks are standing in the corner just watching all this play out. Bruce's would crack jokes and express concerns about everything that's happening while Owlman's would snort and make some demeaning comment. Probably towards Owlman depending on if he's been revived. Thomas Sr's is the oldest and would worry about how the heck this all happened and how his pair was going to get back and "hey, can I drive the Batmobile now?"

That question would set of a series of complaints from the other two and the Dicks would just bond over how terrible their Batman/Owlman is.

"Can you believe it? He told me I had to choose between him and the Titans!" and "You think that's bad?! Mine killed my parents to get to me!" and "Seriously? At least the worst mine did was tell me to sit down and not touch anything. Like I was some kind of sidekick. The nerve of that grumpy old man."

"Wait, yours too?!"

"Wait, yours too?!"

This whole thing becomes international news and then a crisis when Nighwing!Dick uploads a cute selfie of the three of them holding ice cream which people find cute and swoon over before they notice that in the background there's a blurred out version of two batmen? and a feathery guy? The media instantly picks up on it cause Nightwing posting anything is a Big Deal especially since he never posts stuff and because he's so popular. The hero community finds out and it's instant panic mode because Forever Evil pt.2?! The Batfamily and Titans are zipping back to Gotham faster than a speedster because WTF DICK? HELLO, TALON AND OWLMAN ALERT?! AND YOU DECIDED TO NOTIFY US THROUGH A SELFIE?

Bruce, Thomas Jr, and Thomas Sr are blissfully unaware of the avalanche of conspiracy theories, government actions, and the 50 different rescue ops by heroes that their counterparts have accidentally unleashed with their single internet selfie. They're too busy punching others' lights out while the people who started the international crisis peacefully enjoy their triple scoop chocolate chip, birthday cake, cookie dough ice cream with chocolate drizzle, extra sprinkles, and a cherry on top.

[bomber-grl]

Hiiii!! I'm not sure if you've done this but could you make one with Hiro and a male reader where he just goes through the whole gay panic bc of the reader? If it's not too much trouble ofc :]

There’s this river in Egypt-

Pairing(s): Hiro Hamada x Male!Reader

CW(?): There’s a bit of denial on Hiros part but not in a internalized homophobic sense rather just confused so take it with a grain of salt

Hiro and the rest of bh6 were casually eating in the cafeteria, same as any other day

It was lunchtime and it was usually spent hanging out which wasn’t out of the norm

Hiro wanted to get a snack before he left to the rest of his evening classes and chose to get up and select something from a nearby vending machine

He wasn’t really paying attention, hero work alongside quickly approaching due dates were plaguing his mind

And so he accidentally crashed into you

Was it avoidable? Sure but did he end up regretting it? That’s up for debate…

He quickly tried to collect everything back on your tray and was profusely apologizing over and over, refusing to even look at you.

Any normal person would’ve been pissed as hell but all you did was laugh and wave a hand

It was fine, and he had nothing to worry about

You offered him your hand as he was on his knees on the ground, trying to urgently correct his mistake.

Once you pulled him up he managed to get up he was basically just standing there staring

You were going on with your convo and even pulled out your phone talking about whatever it was that you were

But then you noticed Hiros lack of attention

“Hello? “ you waved a hand in front of Hiros face, he was obviously spacing out.

“Huh? Oh uh sorry I wasn’t paying attention to what you were saying, sorry” his face was heating up and he didn’t know why.

Like seriously, why did he feel sweaty all of a sudden, And when did how he stood start bothering him?

“Oh it’s fine I was just wondering if I could get your contact information? I mean i also ran into you and …” you gestured to his stained shirt “I’m sure you wouldn’t mind if I offered to dry clean it.”

He stood there staring at you. Then he realized you looking at him expectantly. oh! It was his turn to talk.

“Uh yea I wouldn’t mind if it were you” how could someone fail so hard at being casual. His face heated up even more than it already was at the connotation , “I-I mean considering you stained my shirt!”

Horrible save. “Oh, yeaaa” you said in response and nodded along, great now you thought he was weird…

You two quickly exchanged info and you went on your way

Hiro unfortunately had to walk back to his table like a dog with its tail in between his legs

As if bumping into anyone wasn’t enough of a commotion, he also made a fool of himself

He wasn’t even in the mood for that snack anymore despite desperately bee lining for it a moment ago.

-

That same night was spent with Hiro wide awake staring up at his ceiling

I mean it was the first time he’d seen you, you’d think he would’ve known about another genius his age

Not to mention your voice, and laugh, and you looked pretty cool too..

Maybe he just wants to really be friends with you, yea that makes sense

-

Eventually you ask to meet up with Hiro and give him back his shirt neatly folded

Which was also the start of his one sided pining your friendship

Before you could leave he called out and asked if you could hang out

Of course he stumbled out excuses of having stuff in common and rambled on in typical hiro fashion

Despite that, you didn’t seem to mind the proposition

Doesn’t make seeing you around school any less of a heart attack though

He’s down bad and his heart immediately starts pumping so hard that he literally had to shut Baymax up when you were first introduced to him

He almost gave away Hiros concerning rapid increase in heart beat

This thing doesn’t exactly go unnoticed by others either

Wasabi offers to help him out best he could and honey lemons all for it

But hiro doesn’t know what he’s talking about

He just rlly likes you as a friend

Until he realizes that he doesn’t

It isn’t until his aunt is calling him to try out a new dish that she made for dinner and he’s luckily not in any rush

When he starts to eat, however, his aunt starts talking about going somewhere for the summer and then she brings up you

You were already introduced to her and she’s seen how Hiro acts around you

So she began to talk about you as if you were hiros boyfriend or something

That’s when Hiro realizes and finally begins to wonder if he likes you

Which obviously he does

*insert the rest of the night spent with hiro taking ‘am I gay quizzes’, contemplating and thinking about his sexuality,but also thinks about if you’re into him then maybe he’d have a chance..?

He quickly turns his light off and goes to bed after that thought

He’s already starting to experience delusions..

-

*insert Hiro standing at a bus stop a month later*

You two planned on hanging out that day and you began walking to a movie

Even I have no idea where Hiro got the courage from but he managed to be brave enough to hold your hand during the movie

It was pre planned too 💀

The night before said movie, he was hanging out with the rest of bh6

They had found out about Hiros date hang out with you because Hiro was really fidgety and maybe, by chance.. Cass had mentioned Hiros squealing that was quickly covered with him “clearing his throat” when she passed by..

So then ofc they had started coming up with ideas for cliche things to do and Hiro had none of it

Except maybe one idea got to him

Which leads to now that he reached for popcorn at the same time you did

Was it cringe? Terribly but now or never ig

He refused to even look at you and you pulled your hand back.

He sort of deflated, at least he knew he didn’t have a chance

But then you held his hand, even intertwining your fingers

And you leaned in and whispered “if you wanted to hold hands you could’ve just said so”

If hiro could explode, he would

I mean he certainty looked like he was a bomb waiting to be detonated

After the movie Hiro walked you home and when you got there he didn’t even need to confess because you did

You told him that you’ve liked him for awhile and fortunately for him, you’re not oblivious

Thus, you two began to date yipeeee

Thankfully Hiro finally relaxes and starts being himself more around you

Although, he learns that you didn’t know how down bad he was for you and how you basically “turned” him gay

Maybe one day he’ll tell you that you were his gay panic but he won’t, knowing it’ll go straight to your head

Not like he’s any better when you tell him you thought he was cute since the moment you saw him

[writershapeholeonthedoor]

My favorite ships ranked!

There's a huge chance this list will change once every two days at the very least, but let's do it!

1. SUPERCORP

Literally my favorite ship ever. They're just perfect for each other in every possible way. Their love languages complement each other perfectly, they can rely on each other, and they work together like the best team in the world. Lena needs love and Kara knows how to offer it without asking for anything in exchange. She will take whatever Lena is willing to give her and be happy about it. But Kara still needs someone that will look at her and see who she really is, no judgment, and someone who she will be comfortable being herself - Kara Zor El - with.

Speaking of fanfic, I think it’s safe to say these fandom has some very talented authors who gave us very well written works. They can also work in every possible scenario, so that's a huge bonus.

Favorite scene: "Supergirl might have saved the city, but, Kara Danvers, you're my hero."

2. SHOOT

Shoot is THAT couple that should have ended up together, but didn’t. I don't hold a grudge on it, though, because Root's death made sense to the show's ongoing plot. I can't say they would be perfect like Supercorp because Shaw has some emotional problems and Root is just also in love with a artificial intelligence or whatever, but they would work. Shaw would try - for Root - and Root would love every part that Shaw allows her to see.

Favorite scene: "You can't live with me and I can't live without you."

3. WAYHAUGHT

Do I even have to say anything? Our most perfect CANON couple. They were perfect from start to finish. The way Nicole absolutely adored Waverly, almost like a worship even, but wasn’t afraid to stand tall on her ideas and opinions. The way Waverly acted like Nicole hung the moon and stars in the sky just for her, and how we know she would be able to do anything to keep Nicole happy. They're that couple that make everyone's teeth rotten with how sweet they are.

Favorite scene: "You guys make The Notebook look bleak."

4. CABENSON

One of my favorite gay ships, so it has a special place in my heart. In the early seasons, it's pretty clear, at least for me, that Alex and Olivia could have something going on. I believe they were both shoving it away because none of them was ready to get seriously involved with anyone and they knew that whatever they decided to have would be too special to be treated lightly. Unfortunately, time was cut short for them when Alex got pulled away for WitSec.

I do think they will forever be each other's "almost", or "what if", but they're long past that now. They changed too much and they did it separately. If they were together, they would have changed around each other and, possibly, be able to work those differences to stay together. But now I don't think they would be able to keep a relationship. It's a bit sad, but it's also a very good portrait of reality.

Favorite scene: "You like being back on court, don't you?"

5. BISHOVA

I'm new to this ship, but I already love it. They remind me a lot of Shoot, actually. We just know that Yelena needs to find someone who would love her with no restrictions and that she deserves to find love. And Kate needs someone able to ground her, but also someone who allows her to be as silly as she wants, someone that will always have her back, doesn't matter how insane her plans might be. They have chemistry too. Also, I can see them getting together with no drama at all, or maybe something they can easily solve, and then being together for the rest of their lives to the point that they can't even remember a time they didn’t know each other. We didn’t get to see them that much, sadly, but I keep my hopes up for more scenes of them in the future.

Favorite scene: "You have one fork?"

6. FLEURMIONE

Okay, two intelligent and beautiful women together? Sign me in! I've been in Harry Potter's fandom for many, many, years now and, after giving it too much thought, I can safely say that Fleur would be the perfect match for Hermione. She would challenge Hermione, they would have endless discussions about any and every subject, they would have enough books together to fill up a library, and they would make each other want to be better every day. I also see Fleur being a bit sarcastic and Hermione keeps rolling her eyes at her at least fifteen times a day.

Fleur is constantly curious about the muggle world, always eager to learn anything Hermione is willing to show her. She would have a great relationship with Hermione's parents, mostly because she thinks they're one of the most genius people on the planet because they know how to fix people's teeth. Meanwhile, Gabrielle would loooove to talk with Hermione, especially when they get together to embarrass Fleur.

Favorite scene: You know, the totally canon one when Fleur asked Hermione to the Yule Ball.

7. LOU MILLER X DEBBIE OCEAN

Heist wives? Yes, please.

We don't even need to pretend. These two were totally banging throughout the whole movie. The headcanon is that they used to date, then Debbie made some stupid decisions, met the wrong people, they broke up for a while and then Debbie got locked up. I believe Lou was so angry with her for both being stupid and for ruining what they had because she wanted to get more money than they actually needed, that she didn’t even visit Debbie in prison.

While there, Debbie had enough time to realize how much of an idiot she had been, so it's up to her to win Lou back. Meanwhile, Lou knows that she's screwed the second she sees Debbies smile again. She just can't help but orbit around her.

Also, they're the Moms, no doubt about that.

Favorite scene: "Baby, I don’t have a diamond yet."

8. DANSEN

The only reason they’re all the way down here is because I hate CW, but I actually love them more than half of my family. They’re married, they’re moms, they’re in love, they’re perfect. Someone as caring as Kelly needed someone to make her go crazy like Alex, while Alex deserved someone that would understand her no matter what. Honestly, I just love them.

Favorite scene: THE PROPOSAL

9. CAROLNAT

Is there any chance this could happen? No.

Do I still dream about it? Constantly.

It's just one of those couples where things would just work. My biggest headcanon for them is that they would be constantly laughing and having fun. Always joking and playing around with each other. Natasha would crave physical touch and Carol would be happy just to be around her at all. Carol would finally find a reason to stay on Earth without feeling guilty about it and Natasha would one thousand percent make a retirement party for her.

Also, they would protect each other so fiercely that no one would even dare to warm any of them.

Favorite scene: The one where Natasha ends up on top of Carol in the training room. Totally canon, trust me.

10. GLORBIA

Might sounds crazy, but hear me out.

Barbie is literally Gloria's dream Barbie, and Gloria is the reason Barbie is alive. Once Barbie becomes human, I can totally see Gloria falling for her without even noticing it, while Barbie takes a while to realize what are those things she's feeling. I do believe Sasha would have a strong part in bringing them together. She would be the one to explain to Barbie what a crush is and what being in love should feel like, and then she would have to give her mom a gentle push to acknowledge her own feelings.

After that, fluff all the way. Gloria would be the most patient person in the world while she sees Barbie navigating human life, just happy to have whatever Barbie is comfortable giving her. Meanwhile, Barbie keeps getting surprised by how strong her feelings can be every time she even looks at Gloria.

Favorite scene: Not a scene per se. Instead, I'm bringing that Tumblr post that says "Ken only has a great day when Barbie looks at him. Gloria always has a great day when she looks at Barbie."

Bonus

11. GAY BELLA

Quite literally, any lesbian ship from Twilight. My favorite one is Rosella, but Bella x Tanya is a close second. Bellice is also a very strong candidate, not to mention Bella x Kate. And, oh, did I hear someone say Bella x Irina or was it Bella x Leah? Honestly, just give me lesbian Bella and I will be happy.

12. ROJARIAS

One of the hottest couples that exist.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

[chantsdemarins]

😅Real Villain Training [Tom Hiddleston circa 2012 X Fem.Reader]

Chapter three of Breath of the Æsir is almost here. I’m SO sorry for the wait! In the meantime, I hope you enjoy a very brief Tom story...

Honestly, I pledged to myself, no more Tom stories just focus on Loki. But I think I just can't help it. Especially when slutty inspiration like this photo comes my way (@lokischambermaid and @lokisgoodgirl 😳)

I am humbled by this era of Tom. In 2024 he is a husband/father/seasoned iconic actor in perpetual good cheer, but in 2012, he was a bad boy. As always please reblog and comment if you feel inspired!

Summary: Tom is hanging out with some real jerks for a new role, and he runs into you, literally. Your depression has caused your life to turn a little black and white, could this handsome stranger possibly add some color back? (at least to your cheeks🥵).

Smut factor: I hope...HOT 🔥

(Authors note: I have no concrete proof he was in fact a bad boy so please don't take seriously my young Tom plot themes of drugs and sex, which once again appear here. I could be totally wrong about him. It's art! It's a fabrication! Also, this story does involve mental health!)

I also don't know who would want to be on a tag list for a Tom fic these days! These are a few people who might be interested?? @lokischambermaid @mochie85 @mischief2sarawr @lokisgoodgirl @wheredafandomat @sailorholly @mrs-illyrian-baby @superficialdomina @gigglingtiggerv2 @fictive-sl0th @muddyorbs @tbhiddlestan83 @huntress-artemiss @smolvenger @kikster606 @mjsthrillernp @hiroyukinasukawa

Los Angeles, 2012

That afternoon, the rooftop pool at the Saint Avalon was a pink swirl of bathing beauties in early spring. Tom tried to focus on his deadpan conversation with his agent, but polka dots and silly cocktails danced around him. He pushed his Ray-Bans back into place, his sweat—or perhaps nervousness—causing them to slowly slide off his nose.

"Serious British actor succumbs to being typecast as a Norse sociopath. That's where this is headed, Tom, if we don’t do something, get you something else.” “Do you really want to be known only for Marvel?” he repeated his plea. The words just weren’t sinking in.

Tom laughed and inadvertently tried to change the subject. "Have you been to the La Brea Tar Pits yet, John? It’s wild—10,000 years' worth of dire wolf bones.”

His stare remained galvanized by the poolside girls. They just didn't look like that in London. Number one, the sunshine. Number two, the tans. Number three, well, his girlfriend—or ex-girlfriend, rather—made it hard to look too long at anyone else. So had he ever found himself at a rooftop pool party, he wouldn't have had the chance he was having now.

“Tom, are you paying attention? This is important. You're only here for a week, and we need to move on this role. I need to know if you're a yes.” The truth was, Tom was suddenly filthy rich with his own money for the first time in his life. He really loved being a Norse sociopath and already had big ideas for Loki’s eventual character arc into becoming an anti-hero someday. He had filled three journals on his bedside stand with his ideas for Loki.

His agent tried again, “Just hang out with Giorgio. It’s less than a month. Then the movie should be a very easy shoot. You get to embed yourself with some real hedge fund cats.” Tom’s attention snapped back. “Wait, I like that.” “Right? It’s like if Loki worked on Wall Street.” “Well…” Tom hesitated. He didn’t think Loki would actually ever bore himself that way. Those guys were boring to Tom and to Loki.

His poor agent was right, though. He did need another role. Things had gone so well; filming for the next Avengers movie was starting this summer. If he could find another gig, a time filler, a totally different genre, it really would be the best for his career. “Then a play next,” the agent mused, taking a sip of his own cocktail. “Shakespeare, or something 70s.” “70s? As in the 1570s? Or the 1970s?” “Tom.” “How should I know?” Tom laughed to himself, eyes still canvassing the poolside display around him. His agent leaned across his lawn chair and placed his hand on Tom’s shoulder. “So, you’ll do it?”

Two Weeks Later

Deep down, he knew he didn’t have the dissociation required for the job. He was too corporeal, too embodied. Years of being a long-distance runner and a trained athlete had fastened his mind, heart, and soul firmly into his muscles. He clearly wouldn’t be able to hide his feelings in his highly emotive, sensitive body. That was the first thing he noticed about the guys he was forced to hang out with for this role. They were covered up with their suits and sexist jokes. It was like they had Hadrian’s Wall around them. Which was, in fact, what exactly led to his sudden departure from the bar at Rue 23.

He had been embedded with short and loud Glen, buzz-cut Ellis, and the tall and lanky, just like him, Brad Nelson. There were a few others, but they were too milquetoast to be memorable. Role be damned. He left so fast the thick glass door almost hit a nice young couple as he bolted into the cold Los Angeles spring night.

He wasn’t dressed right; in his haste to leave London, he didn’t remember that California got into the 40s after the sun went down. He didn’t even pack a suit coat. Thank God he remembered to grab his leather pack from under the bar. It contained exactly five cigarettes, a finicky Zippo, his aftershave, a white t-shirt, and a travel toothbrush. There might also be a rolled-up Popular Mechanics magazine from the Burbank airport, something he never would be caught dead reading at Heathrow.

He also hadn’t done so much coke since he was in college. Why was LA always so incredibly cliché? He couldn’t blame Luke. He couldn’t blame anyone but himself for this role. He said yes when he was distracted. He was in over his head. They had hired these real blokes to make sure Tom looked authentic when they started filming next month, and given his intense drive for perfection, he had agreed that it was “brilliant” of the casting director to force the eight of them to spend these weeks in Los Angeles and one week in Manhattan, in a true immersive centrifuge of shallow materiality.

The night spun around him, a neon ball of yarn, teasing open his pupils until his eyes were black and not at all blue. As he walked, he ran his large hands down the surface of his body, the material of his shirt feeling like a fancy pillowcase from a boutique hotel.

One finger lingered over his jawline, tracing it as he brought his hands back up to his face. Engrossed in the comfort of his form a moment too long, he was distracted once again. This part of LA seemed to always be full of clusters of locals and tourists, laughing and talking. He was unfortunately moving against the flow of the crowd, a wayward salmon when he almost ran straight into you.

“Watch where you're going!” you yelled, dropping your purse onto the dirty LA sidewalk. It opened enough for your things to tumble out. Tom immediately stopped and bent down to help you, but you batted his hands away. “What the hell? I can pick up my own damn Chapstick,” you scolded. “Ma’am, I am so sorry, I am obviously not from here, and I am a little overwhelmed,” he rattled off. “Why is that obvious?” “My accent, of course.” “I didn’t honestly notice,” you spoke as you inspected the tall man’s face with squinting eyes.

You, of course, did immediately notice the timbre of his voice, his height, and the buttons on his tight shirt which looked like they were in the process of unbuttoning themselves. “Would you believe I’ve been doing coke all night with a bunch of Wall Street assholes at the Rue 23, and I had to get the fuck out of there,” he continued, not sure if you were listening, but you were definitely looking at him, so he continued.

“So now I am wandering the streets of Beverly Hills, and I haven’t the foggiest how the rest of my night will go.” You shuffled your feet for a moment before speaking. You had been heading home after a long day at work. You felt genuinely unprepared for navigating a handsome foreigner in the right direction. Yet there was a certain appeal to a man suddenly without his ship or his crew, so to speak. So you didn’t immediately walk away.

He had been shuffled from the airport to the bar in a hired car, he tried to explain, and his sense of direction bordered on problematic. Further, his flip phone was really only good for texting, and that even took way too long most days. He really did seem high, overwhelmed, and a little lost. He also seemed the type unable to handle any silence in a conversation.

“Do you live far?” he said after suffering through 30 seconds of no discourse. “It’s LA, everything is far.” “Fair enough,” Tom muttered sheepishly, fiddling with the buttons on his shirt, which were still somehow unbuttoning themselves. He thought he had bought the right size shirt. Maybe not.

You realized that if you were to ask this too-high, too-hot British man back to your apartment, you would inevitably cave and end up sleeping with him just because he caught you in this particular moment of your life. It was an in-between time. You weren't quite your old self and your new self that you'd been working so hard on, hadn't emerged yet.

“Want to grab something to eat?” You finally offered a neutral segue. That seemed to be just what the man needed to hear. His demeanor calmed. “Oh sure, yes, I could go for a big American cheeseburger, honestly.” “Okay then, let’s go to Patty’s on Vine, we can walk,” you said as you pulled at his shirt to turn him toward the right direction. He bristled at the feeling of your touch.

His whole body was even more sensitive than usual. You looked like the queen of the ancient British Iceni to him. In truth, he didn’t much care for the California look. He loved that you appeared out of nowhere and you looked like Boudica, not like Gwyneth Paltrow. Even though he was sure he heard she was nice. RDJ seemed to really love her.

The diner where you were headed was the second-tier after-hours hang, so it wasn’t populated with the usual crowd, not yet at least. You had some time before you would be inundated, and perhaps before someone would recognize him, which you still did not. You could ask him, of course. Although, sometimes in Los Angeles, the worst part is knowing who someone is.

Although Tom being Tom was unable to resist personal questions. “Tell me a little bit about yourself, just a little,” he had to ask as the night air propelled him quickly down the sidewalk. You considered telling him about your job, but it was just how you paid the bills. Your passions were your passions and not for a stranger. So you decided to be a little goth. It couldn't hurt.

“I have something like anhedonia, I suppose,” you finally said. Tom seemed to know what you meant right away. “The inability to feel?” He spoke. “More classically refined, which results in numbness, making capturing interior somatic sensations nearly impossible,” you clarified. “Sounds like you are depressed,” Tom flattened out your creative retelling of your current state. “Maybe,” although you weren't sure of his simple label. "You think it will pass?" Tom continued, ever the optimist.

You considered one way to try and test if this state you'd been in could possibly change, would be to see if he could provoke feelings of passion or at least some kind of low-grade horniness. You’d been feeling functionally blank for a while now.

He was stunning, after all.

He seemed game for anything, his amphetamine grin taking up the majority of his handsome face. He looked so lovely under the hanging light in your dingy booth. You ate the two-egg special you ordered and watched him devour his American cheeseburger with genuine joy.

“So, you're here to practice for a new part?” You sincerely tried to keep the conversation flowing despite the growing desire to test your theory. “Yes, they want me to branch out. In my career, there’s the fear I am already 'type-casted,' I guess you could say.” “Type-casted? So early on?”

He looked young to you. Possibly younger than you actually. “Yes, I had a big role as a villain, it really blew up, but, he's like a mythological comic book one. I am misunderstood mostly. I mean my character, not me.” "Sure." You nodded in understanding and agreed even if you didn’t quite pick up what he was putting down. You wondered if he had ever seen 'The Last Starfighter.' A favorite movie of yours, you rarely shared with anyone else. Or had he been in that? Your mind wandered. You really didn't recognize him, but you also didn't want to offend him by this fact.

“So how would this role be redefining your abilities? If you are playing a heartless hedge fund dude, isn’t that also a kind of villain? Maybe that is why you got this part.” Tom pondered your insight. He again fell into overthinking and was only a text away from bailing on the entire endeavor. He was becoming that kind of guy, emotionally uneven under his elite veneer.

“I guess they feel like I don’t have the chops to be a 'real world' baddie.” “I needed more practice.” “You don’t?” you said very timidly, suddenly you weren’t hungry anymore. You gently pushed your plate aside so you could focus.

You realized his bromance compadres would find him eventually. Another LA truth: it was hard to get truly lost for long. You had been studying his face during the conversation. His pale complexion was slowly becoming flushed in small increments. Was it shyness or a hidden boldness he was bursting to demonstrate, you couldn't tell.

You had worn your espadrilles today, maybe it wasn’t the right season yet, but they always went so well with your outfit-a flowery dress from H&M. Gently and playfully, you kicked one of them off your foot, making a soft thud. Tom dipped his eyes beneath the table for only a moment and brought them back to you, a new flash of crimson emerging. Why were you taking off your shoes? Maybe your feet hurt from the walk?

He picked up his water and chugged almost all of it.

Your right leg lifted up and found purchase exactly between his, landing on the soft seat. Tom chuckled nervously and grabbed your foot. “Just what are you doing?” “I thought you were in training to be a real villain. Or did I misunderstand that?” You teased. Tom’s sincerity and earnestness were effulgent. “Oh no, I am, I really want the part, I need this role.” Suddenly when the idea of something illicit going on beneath the table loomed, he was not reticent about this new role. “Then you better continue to practice.” You laughed, your own smile forming across your face. “How long do we have until they find you?” You inched your foot closer to his crotch.

Tom took a deep breath in and pulled out his flip phone eyes squinting, trying to see the rectangle text banner across the tiny screen. He held the phone up to you. “Can you read this at all?” You grabbed it from him, feeling his hand shaking a little. It was charming. He was nervous.

You read the tiny screen aloud, “Not really, something about where are you at…you wanker, we are about to call your agent." It did say exactly that, and you wondered if possibly Tom was throwing away this role. Were you watching him collapse his career before your eyes? “Are you one for self-sabotage Tom?” The question seemed to catch him off guard. Maybe no one had asked him so bluntly. “Maybe,” he said after a long minute of typing something on the seemingly minute phone with his long fingers and even larger hands. “Just like I am possibly depressed," you offered. He looked up and sat his phone down. “Yes, I think so. Just like that.”

Incoming

Just then the waitress came by filled your water glasses and gave you another quick refill of coffee. Your chosen sobriety was a strange foil to Tom’s imbibed stimulant cocktail which showed no sign of waning. “So, are we on?” He finally said after biting his bottom lip, for what seemed like a year, until it was slightly puffy.

“For what? A staring contest?” You offered, laughing nervously too, your foot still stationed between his thighs. You wondered what you could accomplish at this hour with the looming threat of an incursion at any moment.

The glimmer in his dilated orbs registered that Tom was now aligned in a mission of testing the perpetuity of your anhedonic state. Suddenly under the table, you felt his long legs spread yours apart, like opening a long-closed window that had been painted over.

You gasped but didn’t say anything. He laughed and widened his legs further. You moved your eyes to watch him under the table, his hand reaching down to adjust his cock, which was obviously becoming hard.

At that moment you wanted to jump over to his side of the booth, you wanted to concede and take him to your far away apartment in embarrassing Marina Del Rey.

Tom went silent and finally let go of your bare foot, he had been holding it so hard with his other hand, that you were sure it would be bruised. You immediately placed it on his now impossibly hard cock, tenting his pants obscenely. Honestly, you’d never given a “foot job” before and only seen something like this in a French film once. You had no idea what you were doing.

You slowly began to move your foot up and down his length, which was quite impressive and required more force than you had anticipated. You curled your toes around him to try and create more friction, dragging your heel just at the base.

You placed your hands on the edge of the diner seat so you could put some real weight into getting him off. That seemed to work, and Tom let out a guttural moan. He quickly grabbed your water glass and drank it in addition to his own.

“Should I stop?” You let yourself wonder out loud. “Are you crazy? No.” Was Tom’s quick reply. “Does this feel good?” “Fuck yes.” His voice was breathy, and he shifted in his seat, daring to look around at the customers, but none showed any sign of noticing anything other than themselves. “But this isn’t fair,” he spoke again softly, panting. “How so?” “Because I am um, I am receiving.” “Aren’t you supposed to be a selfish cold surface-level junior business asshole?” “Yes.” “Then this is what they do, they get foot jobs in diners, amongst other perks of course,” you laughed. “Shit, you’re right,” Tom barely squeaked out.

Just then the diner door opened, and you could see the dim faces of the guys he had been partying with. They finally found him. “Don’t look now but your Republican friends have arrived.” Tom’s flush became pale. “Should I stop?” You checked in again. “No.” His response was as clear as mid-day.

So, you increased your speed, you took a deep breath. You were so turned on at this point. You were positive there would be a wet spot on the cracked vinyl seat. You lifted your skirt up further. Tom noticed and peered beneath the table again. He saw your hand brush past your underwear and a finger curl inside the lace trim. You matched his erratic breathing to your motions as you fucked yourself intently. His eyes were glued to you, his fists almost punching into the flimsy placemats. You laughed to yourself about the chances of you both coming in public, surely, he wouldn’t, or you couldn’t.

You were about to mention that perhaps you should stop. When suddenly Tom let out a muffled cry. His breath hitched. You could feel moisture beneath the bottom of your toes as you brought your foot back to the tip of his generous cock once more. “Ah, I see,” you laughed. "Well looks like we are done here." There was no more time to discuss what just happened. The bros had spotted him and you and made their way to your back corner.

Tom closed his eyes in what looked like a silent prayer. He had just had one of the best orgasms of his life. The short blond one with cropped hair spoke up, “Hiddleston, where the fuck have you been, your agency was about to call the cops, which would have been lame.”

“Hiddleston,” you said his surname out loud. Realizing you never got his last name. Tom looked at you with both lust and remorse. Then turned back to the assholes. “You found me, good work,” he said assuredly. “Well we gotta go dick we have a strip club that closes at 3am and it’s in the contract that we take you there.”

Tom slowly got up and used one of his long fingers to expertly untuck that white button-down shirt to conceal the mess you had both made. He looked your way, the pale blue of his eyes returning.

You exchanged numbers for the pleasantry of it, as the assholes looked on impatiently, probably wondering why Tom was wasting his time on a girl who looked like Boudica, but that's just what assholes do you remembered. Although you really didn’t expect to hear from him again. To your surprise right before dawn, perhaps as he was leaving said strip club, a text came over your Blackberry.

“I hope you felt something, I know I did.” Shit.

You did feel something, a lot of things actually. Tom had brought something back to the solemnly plain bagel of your life. You quickly wrote back.

"Don't let the bros see you texting me Tom, you laughed knowing he was probably squinting and barely able to see your words. You picture all of them looking over his shoulder.

"They went home. Can I come over? I feel like we aren't done quite yet. My asshole-in-training self expires at sunrise and I turn back into the real me. Is that okay?" You blinked a few times just to make sure you saw that correctly. "So you're actually Cinderella," you laughed nervously.

You managed to type your address and push send before pulling your covers over your head and screaming quietly enough to not wake up your still-slumbering roommates. You then looked around your room in quiet delightful horror, you had about 30 minutes to hide all your dirty clothes from the past three months under your bed...

[nox140497]

Jason?

BACKGROUND: The reader was Jasons best friend and partner and was kidnapped with Jason and forced to watch the Joker beat him to death.

SUMMERY: After having to watch your best friend and partner beaten to a bloody pulp by a psyco clown and blown up, not being able to do anything to save him, the reader gets thrown out a small window, only big enough for her to fit, before the explosion and then saved by Batman and returned to the batcave. She continues to work with Batman and Nightwing and helps to. train Tim to be the new Robin so that he would not end up the same way Jason did.

WARNING: The characters may be slightly ooc, and my timeline is probably really wrong, but I don't have wifi at the moment, so I can't make sure if the timeline is really rediculously long. Sory.

Oh yea and ------ means line break

WORLD COUNT:1120.

Masterlist

Prompt List

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

I am Sparrow a.k.a Y/N L/N. I am one of Batmans allies. I used to be the partner, love interest and best friend to the second Robin a.k.a Jason Todd. However that all changed when we were kidnapped by the Joker while we were on patrol one night. He forced me to watch him beat my best friend to a bloody pulp. Batman was able to save me, because Jay threw me out a window,but Jason wasn't as lucky.

I still blame myself.

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

It's been about a year since I was forced to watch Joker brutally beat my best friend and partner Jason Todd to death. In this time, Batman a.k.a Bruce Wayne has taken on another Robin by the name of Tim Drake.

At first, I was really upset about the fact that Bruce had taken on another Robin as I saw it as him replacing Jason, and I knew Jason would see it like that as well. After a while, though, I realised that Robin grounds Batman in some weird way.

I had noticed that after every Robin that he lost, Dick having quit as the first one, and Jason had.....died, that the Bat became more brutal. Having a Robin by his side made him more mellow in a way.

So I made a decision that even thogh I wasn't his partner and I now worked mostly alone much like Dick, now Nightwing, does, that I would help train the new little bird so that the chance of him ending up like Jason would be slimmer.

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

We had formed a bond in the past couple months, a bond much like Dick and I had. Tim was like a brother to me, and all the bad guys in Gothem knew by now that I was very protective of my siblings, whether it be the older one or the younger one.

Anyway theres this new guy that appeared in Gothem a few months ago. He really likes annoying Batman. He's an anti hero named Red hood. He seems so fimiliar in a way but I can't figure out why. He seems so angry though, and under all that anger I can tell that he is hurting, broken in a way.

Don't ask me how I can tell, I just can.

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

I was on patrol with Batman and his other birds. I was standing on a random rooftop listening to Batgirl and Nightwing bicker about something through the earpiece in my ear, I swear those two bicker like an old married couple, when I heard an almost silent thud behind me. I didn't think anything about it as the only ones who could do that so silatlntly were the Dark Knight himself and his birds.

I did, however, spin around when there was a soft but deep chuckle from behind me.

"Redhood." I breathed. I know I should have been scared, but for some reason, I felt safe in his presence.

"Hello, little birdie." He said. This guy was so rediculously familiar.

"What can I do for ya, Hoodie?" I asked calmly.

"I needed to talk to you alone." He said, his voice seeming to warm slightly and slightly nervous. I wonder why 'cause I know he isn't scared of me. I mean, seriously, this guy is at least twice my size, built like a truck and freakishly tall. He could seriously hurt me if he wanted to.

"Well then talk, you have my full attention, dear Hoodie." I said, removing the earpiece for a while and acting like I wasn't freaking out a bit.

He removed the helmet, leaving him in just a red mask that looked like the ones we birds wore.

My eyes widened and filled with tears under my mask as I recognized the face under that rmask, granted slightly older but still the same.

"J-Jason." I wispered weakly.

"Hi beautiful." He said softly.

"H-how?" My voice was weak and barely audable as I spoke to the boy I loved, the boy I thought was dead.

"Ras Al Ghul and his Lazarus pit."( SPELLING??)

I nodded weakly and stared at him for a minute. Suddenly, I lunged at him and threw my arms around his neck, hugging him tightly, nuzzeling my face into his chest as he held me just as tightly.

"I missed you so much." I sobbed softly into his chest.

"I missed you too, my love." He said quietly.

We stood and chatted on that rooftop for a while, catching up, when I suddenly I heard a slight beep. I looked down at the earpiece that I had put in one of the pouches in my utility belt and put it back in my ear, and answered it.

"What's up, Blue Bird?" I asked as I knew it was Dick who wanted me.

"Bruce wanted me to let you know that Redhood has been spotted in that area of Gothem." He informed me, and I could hear the concern in his voice.

I looked at Jason with an amused smile on my face.

"Yea, no kidding." I muttered.

"What was that n/n?" Dick asked.

Nothing, I'm almost done anyway. See ya in a bit, Blue Bird." I said.

"Alright, please be careful." He said.

Jason looked at me with a raised eyebrow.

"What?" I asked softly. He just smiled at me.

"So what now?" He asked me. I looked at him and smiled.

"I don't suppose you want to go back to the Batcave to speak to Bruce, huh." I asked with a soft sigh.

"Not particularly, no." He sighed and looked at me with pleading eyes.

"Jaybird, I'm not gonna force you to do something that you don't want to do, but I really think you should at least talk to him. Talk this out with him. It might make you feel a little better if you hear his side of the story. You know how he is. He might not show it very often, but he really does care about us kids." I said, hoping that he would agree to come with me to the Cave.

"I don't know, Babe. He never really cared for me much, I mean, look how fast he replaced me." He said almost sadly.

"Don't be ridiculous, Jay. He loves you. He just doesn't show it that often. And he only replaced you because 1) Tim offered (*cough* demanded *cough*) because he saw how brutal Bruce became and 2) Batman needs a Robin for that exact reason, and besides Tim isn't your replacement and nobody thinks he is." I said.

"Fine." He sighed.

I smiled happily and pulled him along behind me as I took off towards the Batcave.

[swannieluv]

｡ﾟ･The Bold Mendacity - 𝟖. Request and permission

✦⸼࣪⸳ 𝐆.𝐈 𝐕𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 (𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜) 𝐱 𝐆𝐍!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 – 𝐖𝐜: 2,3k – ✦⸼࣪⸳ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆!!: none. – 𝐀/𝐍: It's been so long since the last chapter. New chapters are already being written! – ✦⸼࣪⸳𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨: ♡ - likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated!!

There's a week until your birthday and how fast has time passed since you were reborn. As you sat in your room writing a letter to Freminet, you couldn't help yourself from looking at the raindrops falling down the window's glass. You two had been exchanging a lot of letters daily, talking about the most random stuff such as the weather or what you should do at the festival. In your last letter, you asked for advice from Freminet when it came to asking for stuff. You didn't want to be greedy on your request to go out.

‘Maybe you should talk to her in a nice way. I also do not like asking for stuff so I try to be nice to my mom and help her with things Clorinde is your older sister so she must take you there.’

His letters often came with a few grammar errors or punctuation ones. He was still learning how to write despite being already eight, which isn't surprising since he didn't have much education like you, who were being raised in the Temple; and Freminet… Well, Freminet told you once he had never written a letter before writing to you. Though, it never bothered you. Being able to exchange letters has been one of the best things of your reincarnation.

After making sure his letter had been replied, you put it in a box to send it tomorrow. Now your care would go to “Furina”. Just a blue ribbon would've been enough to make the mechanical puppy look cute, yet you insisted on painting blue eyes in it. "Furina" was a bit rusty, perhaps a consequence of being in Freminet's pocket when he dived in to save you. It wasn't that bad, but the movements weren't working as they should.

Tic tac, tic tac.

Your attention went to the old wall clock. Normally, Sister Dora would ask you to bring towels or some water for Clorinde. It wasn't that she neglected her own needs, but it was good to have someone to help her if she needed anything. Clorinde takes her training very seriously, even practicing during storms. And since Sister Dora isn't here, which meant you were in charge of doing it by yourself.

“Should I get her water? It's raining outside though… Do people need to hydrate when they're in the rain?”

“Oh, I should be going now.” You took a towel from the closet and an umbrella for yourself and possibly Clorinde.

You fixed your uniform for the last time before opening the door, being met with the monochromatic white hallway. The same dreadful silence adorned the lonely atmosphere, which you were already used to.

Walking through the corridors, you made sure to take a different route just so as to not go through that damned statue. It still gave goosebumps every time you saw it.

The clicking sound of footsteps was all that could be heard. Why was it always so quiet whenever you were the one walking around? You were sure people were really active because you could hear voices from inside your room the whole day.

You stopped in front of the door that led to the training grounds, where Clorinde was. It was a big wooden door with two door latches, one near the ground and other a bit too high for you to reach. As a solution, you took the umbrella you brought and tried to unlock the latch with its pointed part.

And that was when the access to the outside was freed, coming with a cold breeze making you shiver. It was raining slightly more than you initially thought; and in the middle of the grounds you saw her.

The sight of Clorinde standing there with a sword — a metallic one this time, much different from the little wooden sword she carried when you first met her — made you pause on your tracks. She looked so cool like that, just like the heroes on book pages.

“I wanted to be cool like that,” you whispered absentmindedly, just repeating something you had the sensation of having or not said once.

“You know I can see you, right?” Clorinde forced her voice a bit louder so you would hear it.

For a second you had forgotten your original purpose. You left the towels on a dry place, opened your umbrella and went to where she was standing, getting your boots dirty with the muddy water.

“I brought two towels for you. Sister Dora says you shouldn't train in the rain or you'll get sick!” You tried to scold her, with a pout on your lips.

“I won't get sick and you know that.” She took your hands and placed the umbrella in a way it would cover you more as the wind carried the raindrops. “You should go back inside. We wouldn't want you sick on your birthday, would we?”

She walked away, without talking or doing much. Clorinde took one of the towels and went back inside, leaving you there in the rain.

Nighttime finally set in. Your boredom these last few days has been killing you. There wasn't anything to do after completing your daily chores and Freminet only visits once a week.

Clorinde was at the desk, writing something with the help of light that came from the candles. Things between you and Clorinde had been a bit… difficult recently. She has been off training more often and you barely see her during the day. The only time you both stay together is during the night as you both share the same room.

Her gaze was focused while writing, with softer eyes and lips curved slightly upwards. Clorinde seemed more relaxed than usual, even more than when she's with you. And it only added to your initial curiosity, so you decided to take a peek at what she wrote.

From your bed, it was possible to take a peek at what she was writing. Not much, but you could understand a few words. But a particular name in the beginning of the letter made you even more curious.

“Hm… Who’s ‘Navia’?” you questioned her by pointing to the name of the addressee.

Clorinde's eyes widened as she rushed to put an arm on top of the letter before you could glimpse the actual contents. “[Name], you can't just come unnoticed and read someone's stuff. It's uneducated.”

Her scolding made your small grin drop. It had been some time ever since you two last smiled with each other.

“I want you to spend time with you. Being alone is sooo boring!” you put your hands together as if begging for Clorinde to stop what she was doing for a second.

“Can't you just stay with Sister Dora or—”

“She’s traveling, again. You know that.” You took “Furina” from the desk and fidgeted with it as boredom kept devouring your happiness. The only audible sound in the room was that of mechanical parts clicking.

The two of you weren't spending much time together lately, and it has been bothersome because Clorinde wouldn't engage in any conversation or activity with you. Drawing with her? Too childish, she stopped doing it when you were around four; playing with toys? You barely had any, and she was fifteen so the chance of her accepting was too low.

You had definitely gotten attached to her, and the thought of not being able to stay close to her was surely torturing.

“She must have gone to Mondstadt, maybe she'll bring you trinkets.” Clorinde answered as her gaze went to you, or maybe to “Furina” in your hands. “Again… Where exactly did you get it from?”

“My friend Freminet. He's my friend, a good friend… a friend who spends time with me if you want to know…”

Clorinde sighed and crossed her arms. There was no way she would be able to deny being neglectful to your needs nowadays, yet she couldn't do much with how busy her agenda became. She had three years before turning eighteen, her childhood ended years ago and now Clorinde had to work hard on her future.

“Are you mad because I'm not spending time with you?”

“I'm not mad but it feels… lonely.”

It felt selfish, and maybe it really was. You couldn't trap Clorinde by your side forever, she was turning into an adult soon and you'll still be a child while it happens. For some reason, as you thought about it, your throat started aching as if there was something inside it. But you tried to brush it away.

“I don't… I don't want to leave you alone, and you know that.” Clorinde cut the silence by stating that. She seemed genuine in her words.

“But you're going to, anyway.”

Clorinde placed her pen down and turned around, so as to not face your eyes. It hurt remembering the old days of playing with her as she was still a child, when she used to carry you around like a bag and how Sister Dora had to teach her the way to hold a toddler properly.

‘If only I could tell her the truth… would things be any different?’ You couldn't reveal the fact you've actually reincarnated and that you're a teenager on the inside, just like her. Clorinde's exactly the same age you were before being executed, and soon she'll be even older than that. ‘I’ve seen this kid growing to be honest—’

You coughed before looking at her again. She seemed to have something on her mind, thoughtfully in silence.

“So let's do like this… what do you think about spending your birthday with me this year.” She put a hand over your head and gave you a pat.

“Spending time with me…” You thought about it for a second before it just clicked in your mind: ‘This is the perfect timing.’

And so, you gathered all the courage inside to finally tell her what you've been intending to say for the past few days. And with sad puppy eyes and clasped hands, you begged her. It was a trick you learned because whenever you did it, Clorinde and Sister Dora let you eat chocolate, and it worked with anything else.

It was the perfect time to use your privilege of being a child. You never asked her for anything much now that you think about it, so it might work.

“Then please take me to the Fontinalia Festival on my birthday! Please, please!”

“As in a birthday gift?” Clorinde crossed her arms and thought for a few seconds before nodding her head. “I… I would have to try to get permission and…”

‘I would have to speak with the administration… but I'm still underage so they probably won't let me take [Name] out.’ Clorinde’s thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a hug attack.

[Name] excitedly jumped on her, giving Clorinde a tight hug. It wasn't enough to make her fall from the chair, but strong enough to surprise Clorinde.

“Please talk to them! Please, please, please!”

[Name]’s eyes had a glow to them, a glow of excitement. It was now obvious to Clorinde how much they wanted to get out of the Temple for a day. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to try? It wouldn't hurt to, she already has ‘no’ as an answer so why not try for a yes?

“I'll try.”

“Yay! Big sister Clorinde is the best!” You laughed sweetly while hugging her even tighter. You were going out! You were finally going outside to the world!

A few seconds later, you coughed once more. But this time... It was water, again. And so your doubts started arising.

The Temple hall's peacefulness was clearly one of its many charms. Clorinde often found herself strolling around them aimlessly, going wherever her feet could reach. She finds herself stopping in front of the Hydro Archon's statue a few times, admiring the details put in such work of art.

Today was supposed to be one of these days. However, she was called by the Temple's administrator and planned to ask to take [Name] to the center of the city.

Her heels’ clacking sound stopped as soon as she paused in front of a large dark wood door. Clorinde has come to this place many times before and still got a bit nervous every single one of them.

With a hint of hesitation, Clorinde knocked twice on the door. The noise echoed along the corridor in a ghostly way, making her take a little glance behind her while waiting for permission to enter the room.

“Come inside,” an old voice commanded. It was a bit raspy, but seemingly amicable.

Clorinde grabbed the doorknobs before pushing it, revealing the fancy yet old-fashioned office. In the center, the mosaic window created a gleaming light bright enough to blind her, and so she shifted her eyes to the one seated in the middle desk: the Temple's administrator himself.

He was a middle aged man whose blonde hair was starting to get gray. He sat behind his desk, surrounded by documents and thick books. “Good afternoon, Clorinde.”

It's not like Clorinde and him were on bad terms. It's quite the opposite, he was kind and respectful of every single person who worked inside the building; and that was a problem since Clorinde is not affiliated with the Temple, any of the two remaining ones.

Next to the bookshelves, stood a tall figure Clorinde couldn't recognize. A man who was using a cane to support himself while analyzing the thousands of titles on those shelves.

“We have an important visitor with us today,” the old man laughed before extending a hand in the others direction. “It would be an honor to introduce you to our Iudex, Monsieur Neuvillette.”

Clorinde's eyes widened slightly, she was caught by surprise. The Chief Justice was in front of her, after all.

As the Iudex’s eyes met Clorinde's, she couldn't help but feel extremely nervous. This wasn't a normal meeting, there was surely something behind it. The Iudex was known as an extremely busy man, so what was the motive behind his visit?

For now, however, only the walls would hear what was discussed in that office.

[xiaq]

Steddie Time Travel Fix-it: Pt.9

Ao3 Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 4 Pt. 5 Pt. 6 Pt. 7 Pt. 8

It’s 2am and Eddie is sitting alone on the front steps, knife still in one hand, when Hopper’s truck turns into the cul-de-sac. Steve is leaning out the window, grinning. He’s got one hand pressed to the side of the cab, his hair a riot in the wind, and it feels like Eddie can catch a full breath for the first time in hours.

The truck has hardly stopped and Eddie has hardly managed to push himself to his feet before Steve is shoving open the passenger door and stumbling across the lawn to––‘hug’ seems like a woefully ineffective way to describe the way that Steve slams into him. The way that he pulls them together, desperate and aching, like he wants to merge them into a singular entity. It’s a collision of a gesture. Chest to chest. Steve’s arms are tight and undeniable and a little bit violent around him. His hands are fisted in the fabric of Eddie’s shirt. His face is in Eddie’s neck.

“You’re ok,” he says, and Eddie is reminded of that first, baffling, meeting in the bathroom, when Steve couldn’t seem to stop himself from touching, from reassuring himself that Eddie was real and whole.

“I’m good, man, but I’m really fucking confused.” He tries to pull away. Steve doesn’t let him. Eddie isn’t going to fight him about it. “Are you ok?” he asks, mostly into Steve’s hair.

“I’m fine. We won. And we’re alive. And we’re all—everything is going to be fine, now.”

“That is great news, but I still need an explanation and, whoa, hey.”

There’s a wetness smearing on his chin and Eddie realizes that despite Steve’s claims of being fine, he’s definitely reopened the line of stitches on his temple and one of his arms is seriously jacked up.

“You’re getting blood on me,” Eddie points out.

Steve lets go.

“Sorry,” he says, reaching up to try and wipe it away. His fingers are just as gory as his face, though, maybe even worse, and he looks a little panicked at whatever he’s done to Eddie’s jaw. “Sorry,” he repeats. “Oh jeez—here, let me––”

“Steve,” Hopper says, slamming the driver’s side door of the truck. “Can you have your touching reunion inside?”

There’s a kid Eddie hadn’t noticed before with a shaved head, blood all down her lips beneath her nose, getting out of the back seat. A bearded man and Joyce Beyers follow her, and there’s another car pulling up to park behind Hopper’s truck. Nancy is in the driver’s seat, and Robin and Jonathan and a couple other people he doesn’t recognize are piling out, bloodied and weary-looking, but all smiling. When a third and fourth car, both black, government-y vehicles arrive, Eddie looks to Steve who still has one disgusting hand wrapped around Eddie’s wrist, like he’s afraid to let go of him.

“Inside,” he says.

Eddie agrees that’s probably best.

Steve is met in the foyer like a conquering hero. The kids fling themselves at him with hugs and questions and shouts of dismay over the state of his bloodied face and his mangled arm, which under the entryway lights looks far worse than it did in the yard––like something had been chewing on it. Something big. Steve and the others spend a solid five minutes just repeating that they won, it’s over, they won, it’s over, while Eddie and Barb and Chrissy stand on the fringes and share confused looks.

When it becomes clear that no one else is in any hurry to take care of Steve’s injuries, Eddie grabs him by the arm that doesn’t look like it’s been stuck down a garbage disposal and drags him down the hall to the bathroom. He knows where the first aid kit is, now.

“Sit,” he tells him, nodding to the toilet.

Steve sits.

And then he’s looking up at Eddie, all wide-eyed and appreciative like some kind of triumphant but humble gladiator awaiting his reward for a battle well-fought. Eddie wants to punch a wall or something because he should not be endeared by this. He should not.

And yet.

“Take off your shirt,” Eddie says brusquely. “Or do you need help?”

“My ribs are still pretty fucked up from before,” Steve murmurs, “so I won’t lie, lifting my arms above my head isn’t great.”

Eddie benevolently does not point out that haring off to fight interdimensional creatures, or whatever the hell Steve was doing, probably hasn’t helped with the broken ribs situation.

“So, help?” Eddie says.

“Yeah, please.”

And he should have seen that coming. He offered, after all, but Eddie is stymied for a moment before he moves forward, leaning over Steve’s back to get to the hem of his shirt so he can pull it forward over his head and off without making him lift his arms. 

It forces them close again. Eddie can smell him: sweat and blood and whatever nameless viscera is smeared on his clothes. It’s disgusting.

And yet.

“New plan,” Eddie says, tossing the shirt onto the floor and then kicking it further away for good measure. “Shower first, and then we’ll patch you up without worrying about secondary infections.”

“I don’t have any other clothes,” Steve says.

“Well, I’ve got a bag full of clothes in the car and you’re not that much bigger than me. Also, at some point you’re going to start explaining things. Feel free to start now.”

“Well,” Steve glances at the closed bathroom door. “The others are probably filling in Barb and Chrissy right now, if you want to join them.”

Eddie drops to his knees to unlace Steve’s boots. “No,” he says, slapping at Steve’s hands when he tries to do it himself, wincing. “I don’t want the others to tell me, I want you to tell me. I want you to explain why your personality has done a 180 and you’re suddenly best friends with Buckley and Nancy,” he cups one hand around the back of Steve’s knee so he can pull off his boot with the other, “and why you’re basically parenting a dozen middle-schoolers and why you’re afraid of DnD monsters and have a trunk full of weapons and lose your mind when lights flicker and why there’s some sort of portal in my living room ceiling and why you keep looking at me.”

“I—I don’t look at you,” Steve says, fucking looking at him. “How do I look at you?”

“Like that,” Eddie shouts, gesturing at Steve’s face with his own dirty sock. “Jesus.”

He pulls off the second boot, the second sock, even dirtier than the first, and tosses them aside. 

“I’m sorry,” Steve exhales. “I don’t mean to. And I don’t know where to start. I’m not—none of any of this sounds believable.”

“Well, I was thinking time travel at first but now I’m leaning toward alternate dimensions, so I feel like I’m good with whatever you want to throw at me, here.”

“Alright,” Steve says. He leans forward, gritting his teeth around a grimace, to brace his elbows on his knees. “Honestly, it’s a little of column A, and a lot of column B.”

“Fuck. Okay. Give me the like, two minute version.”

“So there’s an…alternate dimension of Hawkins,” Steve starts. “Like, it’s still Hawkins, just. Wrong. We’ve been calling it the Upside-Down. And there are places where the dividing line between between our reality and the Upside-Down is weak. And those places can turn into gates where people or things can move back and forth between the two. There was one in your ceiling.”

“And Lover’s Lake,” Eddie says. “There was one there? And your…pool?”

“Yeah.”

“Following you so far. You said ‘things’ can move back and forth. What uh, dare I ask what populates this Upside Down version of Hawkins?”

“Monsters, mostly,” Steve says.

“Figured.”

 “The kids named the monsters we’ve been fighting after D&D characters. Which is why I get weird about shit like demogorgons and mind flayers and stuff.”

“Okay, alright, so much is making sense right now. So there aren’t any people there?”

“Not really. There was one guy, an evil guy, I guess. Vecna. Who was responsible for the Upside Down going bad. He lived there. Sort of.”

Steve ducks his head and scrubs a hand through his hair with his still-operational arm. “I feel like I’m not doing a good job explaining this, you should really let one of the others––“

“You’re doing great,” Eddie interrupts. “We’ve got an alternate reality tenuously separated from real life, inhabited by an evil villain and his monsters. What else?”

“El, the girl with the shaved head? She came from a lab—the Hawkins lab––where they were doing experiments on kids. Giving them superpowers. And also finding out how to make gates to the Upside Down. The bad guy in the Upside Down was also one of the kids from the lab, a long time ago. They can both open and close gates.”

“Okay,” Eddie says slowly. “So El is the heroine and he’s her villainous foil in the story.”

“It’s not a story,”

“No, I know, I’m just, this is how I’m contextualizing, sorry. How did all the kids get involved?”

“By accident, mostly. Will––the nice one with the bowl cut and enormous eyes?––he ended up trapped there for a while. There was a gate in his shed. But he made it back, obviously.”

Eddie tries to place him but struggles. There are a lot of kids running around.

“The others are all friends with him,” Steve continues. “And also they found El in the woods when she escaped from the lab. They’re all pretty great, honestly. Even if they’re annoying as hell.”

“Where does the time travel bit come in?”

Steve’s attention drops immediately to his hands. His nail-beds are black. It’s going to take forever to get him clean and apparently Eddie has signed himself up for that task. He should probably be dreading it.

And yet.

“In our timeline,” Steve says, “it’s 1987. Or it was when we left. Things went really bad with Vecna and people died. A lot of people. Hawkins was pretty much destroyed. And we didn’t think we’d be able to stop him at all, his reach was just going to expand and get worse and worse until one of the people from the lab came to talk to El. Told her she could basically open up a portal in the Upside Down and go back in time. And prevent all the shit that happened from ever happening. So she did and we all went through with her. Except the first couple times we tried we only went back a few months and it wasn’t enough. Vecna still won every time no matter what we changed or how we tried to fix things. So this time we went back years instead. To stop him at the beginning. When he was unprepared.”

“Wait,” Eddie says. “Why don’t I remember this then? You all act like you know me, so I must have been involved in this shit at least a little, right?”

“Right,” Steve says. “No, you were. But it was only the people there in 1987 who went through the portal that remember.”

“Only the people there. What does that even mean? Where did I go?”

He might be a little bit of a coward, but there’s no way he would have abandoned a bunch of kids and Steve Harrington to fight monsters alone. He doesn’t think.

Steve’s attention is so forcefully on his hands, fingers now curled tight and painful-looking around his knees, that Eddie reaches up to stop him before he hurts himself.

Oh, he realizes, thumbs tucked between Steve's palms and his knees.

Oh, no.

“I fucking died, didn’t I?” Eddie asks.

“Yeah,” Steve says.

Well. That’s…sobering.

“So,” Eddie says, rocking back onto his heels, feeling winded. “Time travel. Parallel worlds. Bad dude. Monsters. Kids with superpowers. My untimely demise.”

“That’s about the shape of it.”

“And this Vecna guy. You said—when you first got back tonight you said it was over. Is it, though? Like, over over.”

“I think so. We won this time. And El thinks he’s gone for good and she’s closed all the gates but one. We’ll do a couple of patrols over the next few months to make sure, before we close the final gate permanently. But we’re pretty sure it’s over. Finally.”

Steve’s eyes are dark and wet and huge in his dirty face when he finally meets Eddie’s gaze.

“Well,” Eddie says. His hands are still wrapped around Steve’s. “I guess I should thank you for saving my life, then.”

Steve huffs out a laugh, then winces. “Yeah, no problem.”

“Sounds like it was a little bit of a problem. Just a smidge.”

“Worth it,” Steve says. 

He shouldn’t be attractive like this–smeared in dirt and grime and his own blood. Leaning a little to one side to take pressure off broken ribs.

And yet.

Eddie clears his throat. “You really need to take a shower so we can patch you up.”

Steve is still looking at him. 

The same way he’s been looking at him.

Eddie is starting to understand the depth behind it. He’s starting to have questions about the depth of it. Questions that are probably more wishfull thinking than anything else but also––

“I’ll need help,” Steve says evenly. “With showering. Because of my arm.”

“Right,” Eddie says. “Well, I’m…here.”

“You’re here,” Steve agrees.

It sounds like he means something else. Something more.

Eddie swallows.

He lets go of Steve’s hands.

He slides back the shower curtain and turns on the faucet.

Pt. 10

[mislamicpearl]

Thoughts and favorite moments from LMK season 5, eps 8-10 (finale):

Spoilers galore below:

"Control yourself" OMGOOODDD JUST HOW COLD AND CALMLY NEZHA SAID THAT WAS SO COOL!!

Somehow Nezha calling MK a child is so cute X3

Glad his dad isn't a full on bad guy, though I think he turned around a little fast. Granted we don't want to waste too much time on this.

The Pigsy huggg!😭😭😭

And the mastermind is... a Serpentine! Seriously, my sisters and I made up whole (unserious) theories on the spot there about this guy either coming from or pre-dating Ninjago. My favorite is that the cave he was talking about was the one the Anacondrai were trapped in - he managed to escape to the Ninjago realm before Pythor cannibalized the whole tribe.😆

"Wow, I'm very used to all of our enemies just being like, recycled your old enemies?" "Or like your ex-best friend." Hahaha

Hmm so this guy knew Wukong before, interesting...I just find it kind of funny that this guy (sorry I just couldn't catch his name) that his whole evil motivation is that he wants to just.. eff off.😆

Macaque trying so hard to stop MK sacrificing himself, again I can't believe how far their relationship has come since his first appearance. 😭

"That power. Who gave that to you? Who'd you make a deal with?" "A deal..?" I'M FROTHING AT THE MOUTH, ARE WE ACTUALLY GOING TO GET MORE ABOUT MACAQUE'S POWERS IN THE FUTURE??

Mei trying to straight up bite the snake guy XD

Macaque looking back at Wukong for a moment and seeing how desperate he is to save the kid before breaking them out of their bonds again😫

What did he do to Serpentine guy though??? Seriously give us the Macaque lore already!!!

So usually I HATE the trope of the hero insisting that there's no other way to save the day except to sacrifice themselves and pushing away their friends' efforts to save them... but here I'm kind of on MK's side with this one. They didn't exactly have a lot of time to figure out another way to stop the world from literally breaking apart.

That whole MK and Wukong fight put me in mind of Clint and Natasha from Avengers End Game trying to stop each other from killing themselves, which unfortunately means it was a little comical on top of being emotional.

But let's talk about how Wukong loves MK so much that even though he's so scared of death, to the point of making himself immortal, he still decided to take his place instead.😭

OMG WHAAAT MK ACTIVATED THE PAIN CIRCLET!?

Man... Wukong's guttural screams... cartoons rarely let characters show this much raw primal emotion, probably so as not to upset kids too much, so whenever you do see it you know things have gotten serious.

The fact that Macaque said Wukong's name instead of MK's tells me that he KNEW he would sacrifice himself in MK's place😭

Speaking of raw emotion, man... MK choking up with relief that his friends would be okay was just heart breaking.

So, not that I would've WANTED the "cycle" to renew itself or whatever, but... and this is most definitely just the religious side of me speaking here, I don't know that anyone else will agree with me... but I'm getting a little tired of shows letting the main characters decide the fate of the world based on what THEY want. Like, messages about standing up for your freedom, that's all well and good when it's in terms of rebelling against corruption and oppression, things that humans do to each other. But defying the very way your world is made, messing with the natural order of things because you personally don't like it... that's just arrogant and selfish. People in reality already think they can push the boundary of life and nature however they like; if some things weren't literally impossible, like coming back from the dead, humans would definitely do everything and anything they wanted and excuse themselves on the basis of wanting absolute freedom. That's why there ARE limits, and personally, I'm not a fan of seeing them being challenged as a good thing so often in almost every modern story ever. Wanting things your own way no matter what rules you break is a villain mindset (pretty much what the Serpentine guy's motivation was). I can kind of excuse MK here for the fact that the cycle wasn't supposed to start this early and what he's doing is just putting things back on the right track... whatever, guess I just wanted to get that off my chest, rant over.

Back to fluffy wholesome moments - Wukong crying and saying "I got you" to MK after catching him!!😭😭😭

And more group hugs🥹 This is probably like the third or fourth of this season??

Toy Story 3 moment of everyone holding hands and accepting their fate...

AND WE FINALLY GET THE SCENE FROM THE TRAILER...WUKONG AND MACAQUE ABOUT TO FORGIVE EACH OTHER UGGHH! FART YOU SERPENTINE DUDE FOR INTERRUPTING THEM!!

Yes I DID pay attention to which stone lights went to which characters... and that Mei's went to Red Son, and Pigsy's went to Chang'e, AND WUKONG'S WENT TO MACAQUE!!

Oh yeah nope, we just CAN'T end the season without giving MK something to worry and feel guilty about for next time!

Wukong tearing up saying "I don't want to lose you" MY HEART😭

YO WHAT IS GOING ON WITH MACAQUE'S SHADOW POWER??? AND IT'S ON MK'S STAFF!!! MACAQUE SPECIAL MACAQUE SPECIAL MACAQUE SPECIAL OH PLEEEEASE!!!

Bro, this show... every season has been peak so far.

[pixie-in-a-moonlantern]

KILL ME LIKE A LOVER

Durgetash | explicit 18+ Enver Gortash x f!Durge / Halsin Silverbough x f!Durge smut, sex, p in v sex; homicidal urge, light bondage in a non-sexual setting, graphic threats of violence; prolonged emotional/physical hurt, comfort, fluff, love confession, 2 romantic relationships (separate for now, hinting at possible future poly f!Durge/Halsin/Gortash)

❗ Closely follows events of the first fic: I Don't Like You (Tumblr | AO3)

Read on AO3 for more context and comfort (I'll be very grateful if you toss me a kudo there as well, even if you read and reblog here ♥ - remember, fic writers share their work for free!)

13,795 words in 10 chapters

My Spotify playlist for this couple »

“You’re back,” he whispers, and an almost maniacal glow radiates from him. “And something in you is drawn to me, I can see it. It makes me hopeful.” He tilts his head to the side and brushes hair away from my neck. “Did you really not expect me to use every resource at my disposal to convince you to stay?”

I gulp. Gods, I should never have gone to see him. Some things are best left buried, some fires best left extinguished. But I poked a bibberbang and now my world is ablaze.

01 She walks escorted.

The Watcher walks beside me the whole way to Wyrm's Rock. I try keeping my head down, but any hope of not being noticed is lost with every thundering step the Watcher takes. People hold the Baldur's Mouth gazettes and point at the hallowed hero as she walks escorted to the City's would-be savior for an audience.

I wish I could just open up a portal to the Hells in the sidewalk and jump in. Gortash is going to pay for this one.

We finally reach the elevator to the audience hall and the stupid clanker squeezes in with me. I bulge my eyes, just about ready to go on a murder spree.

"Seriously? It goes straight up into the tower, where else do you think I could go?"

"There is no need for alarm, citizen," the Watcher assures me monotonously, not moving an inch. "I was instructed to deliver you safely directly to the Archduke, Lord Gortash."

"Would you chill with the 'Archduke' already?" I groan, head lulled back. "You know he's not one yet, right? No matter how many times you repeat it."

The Watcher doesn't respond. Perhaps Gortash expects such quips from people and instructs his hellish machines to not react. Or—perhaps if I was other people the metal hulk would just smash me on the spot for such a comment. Fucking tyrant.

What was even wrong with me when I willingly worked with this man, having just as deprived plans for the Sword Coast myself? Did I accidentally get lobotomized into a sane person? That would be one Hell of a joke on fate. And on Bhaal.

I imagine he must be simmering in his own rage, watching his prized child run around helping refugees. That little fantasy cheers me up. I lean on the side of the elevator and just chuckle to myself through the ride, mocking Daddy dearest in the relative privacy of my skull.

The Audience hall is deserted once more. The Steel Watch form a line in between the columns from the entrance to the dais on the other side, standing at attention. It's like some sort of welcoming ceremony, but just for little ol' me.

I reluctantly scale the acres of red carpet over stone flooring, feeling my chest tighten.

Gortash watches me as I approach, the remote-control suit of armor still stomping next to me. This time, he sits on the throne in all his grimy glory like the shameless usurper he is.

Except... he doesn't look grimy. Did he bathe again? What in the Hells does he think he can pressure me into doing?!

... again.

If there's a term for how his face simultaneously brightens and darkens, I can't recall, but that's exactly what happens. He's happy to see me and has very unsavory thoughts about it.

The Watcher only peels off my path once I'm literally at the lowest steps before the dais. I cross my arms over my chest and give Gortash my most unamused expression, even though my heart is racing with both fear and excitement.

He smiles as if he didn't notice it and opens his arms wide in a grand welcoming gesture. "My dearest assassin," he exclaims, voice warm like sunshine.

"Yeah, right, whatever," I roll my eyes. "So what, do I just stand here, like a pleb before their master, or did you have something civil in mind?"

He leans back in his seat and pats his thigh, a smirk playing around his lips. "You can always come sit on my lap."

Indignation and an unwelcome spark of lust flood my chest. I let out a bestial growl, not quite sure if I mean to intimidate him or my inner demons.

Gortash chuckles and, to my surprise, actually stands from his throne and steps down, until he's face-to-face with me.

It's hard to say whether he made it better or worse. I try to keep my gaze from wandering down his ridiculously low cleavage, but looking into his eyes is not much safer. They gleam with both smugness and affection and my stupid heart flutters.

"How lovely to see you, Nara," he drawls, sight approvingly gliding up and down my body. "I love how you chose to wear your custom made version of my gauntlet."

I sigh. I should've known he would bring it up.

I woke up on the nautiloid wearing that thing. I didn't remember anything about it, but it looked badass and was also quite useful. I store a healing potion in the socket and even the claws have come in handy in a pinch.

I didn't feel like getting rid of it when I noticed him wearing the same thing in Moonrise, because I grossly underestimated the significance. I just thought he set off a new trend among Baldurians and I wasn't immune to the allure. Happens to the best of people, right?

After I made the mistake of having sex with my ex, I figured ditching it won't help me anyway—if I do it now, it will only show him that I care.

"I didn't exactly have time to change for you, Gortash," I sneer. "You had your metal munchkin threaten me into coming here. It paraded me through the town, taking the busiest route. What do you think I am to you? Your lapdog? Your fucking mascot?"

Despite my derisive tone, he chances a step closer and my heart jumps up into my throat.

"You came to see me yourself first, remember? No one forced you."

"Well, at least no one saw me then," I bitch.

"Too bad," he bites his lip, coming closer.

He slowly, cautiously reaches out and runs the backs of his fingers along my jaw. I grit my teeth in an effort to not show it, but I like it too much to make him stop. He smiles contentedly and keeps lightly touching my face.

"You're back," he whispers, and an almost maniacal glow radiates from him. "And something in you is drawn to me, I can see it. It makes me hopeful." He tilts his head to the side and brushes hair away from my neck. "Did you really not expect me to use every resource at my disposal to convince you to stay? Nara?"

I gulp. Gods, I should never have gone to see him. Some things are best left buried, some fires best left extinguished. But I poked a bibberbang and now my world is ablaze.

"Do your friends know what you did the other night?" he smirks, smarminess making its comeback in his voice. "Does your druid know?"

"I tell him everything," I say equally smugly, finally gaining some leverage. "He's the most wholesome man I know. He's not trying to own me or isolate me like some."

A shadow of irritation and disappointment dims the self-satisfaction in his face. Point for me.

"Karlach wasn't so understanding," I continue, narrowing my eyes. "She's worried about me falling for you. I told her it's a ridiculous notion, but she proceeded to make me feel better by describing how she's going to disembowel you if you hurt me."

He scoffs. "I can imagine. She always was a crude weapon. Effective, but crude. Nothing like your refined style." His gaze softens again when he gently combs the hair on my temple with the claws of his gauntlet. "You never used brute force, yet there was no one you couldn't break. I wouldn't have been an exception, but you stayed your hand. Against your father's explicit wishes, apparently."

"I'll break you right now if you want," I say in a trembling voice. His tone and touch are doing things to me. I'm getting scared and the Urge in me is trying to respond to the stress with violence.

His mouth stretches into a delighted smile. "I'm sure you'd like that. But so would he. I thought you were done being his good girl?"

My throat goes dry as I recall the night it all went awfully wrong. When I failed to do my duty one too many times. When I got my reward for disobedience.

"What Orin did to me," I croak, "was Bhaal's punishment for my refusing to kill you."

Once Gale understood the predatory patterns of his former lover, he got eerily good at interpreting gods' behavior. He gave me more answers than even Gortash managed to. Knowing this lifted a certain weight off my mind; I wasn't just discarded for being useless—I was being a bad murderer to Daddy and he decided to teach me a lesson.

Gortash's face goes slack for a moment, before darkening with realization. He didn't know. Or he didn't want to. It was easier to blame Orin's ambition.

"So, yeah, I'm done being his tool. If I do kill you, Enver," I'm the one to reach for him this time, running a fingertip down that enticing window of his shirt, "I'll be killing you for myself."

He gulps, fumbling for lost balance. "Incorrect, sweetheart. It was punishment for loving me. Not calling it what it is doesn't make it any less true."

"Did I, though?" I've had a long sleepless night thinking about it. "I was a naive, brainwashed cultist. Did I really choose you? Or were you just convenient? The only man around with enough balls to risk it with me, maybe? Or worse: the only one who figured how easy it would be to use me?"

I'm hissing by the time I finish the last sentence and I can see how close to home it hits. His chest heaves and he takes a few steps back, turning from me. I can't see his face, so I assume he's looking for a way to refute my accusations.

"I don't know."

His voice is so small I can barely hear it. Small and vulnerable, filled with insecurity. I'm once again reminded of the image I created of the little boy Gortash treated to neglect and betrayal instead of love, and I feel the telltale stinging in my eyes.

He slowly turns back, his expression a pure emotional chaos.

"I... don't know if you chose me," he says a little louder this time, but still sounds so... lost. "One day we just... were and..." His eloquence bends under the heft of his uncertainty. "It was so easy to be with you, so... natural. I..." He closes his eyes against the turmoil raised by the memories. "At first I figured you were just having a bit of fun rebelling against Bhaal, but... You were so amazing. So warm, when your Urge was satisfied. I've never... no one ever made me feel like you did."

The only things I knew of our relationship were what he told me. I imagined it a lot different than what it sounds like now, after he suffered a sobering blow to his ego. I can't know how much of this is genuine... but he suddenly painfully reminds me of Astarion, the way he fumbles in the dark as soon as his winning act falls apart.

I know he's not a good man. I've heard plenty about the things he's done—and is still doing. But how much of his flaws can I blame on nature when I also know what he's been through? He's a survivor. No one is inherently evil—not even me.

The people you surround yourself with have a profound effect on you. Even Astarion's worst traits are being slowly worn down in the unexpected acceptance he's receiving. If it had been Gortash who was betrayed, almost killed and taken, and then found by such a wholesome group of similarly afflicted weirdos, would he have remained selfish and cruel? Or would he have chosen a better path, like me?

"I thought I was a 'horrible influence' on you." I swallow hard. I shouldn't believe a word he says... but I do.

"You were," he shrugs casually. I find him a lot more pleasant without the air of fake grandeur. "We did wonderfully bad things together, things I wouldn't have thought of myself. But that was your heritage." He studies my face for a second, longing in his eyes. "No one taught you to be silly and fun. No one taught you to be gentle. No one taught you how to appreciate more than blood and guts in people. You bloomed with all colors like a flower, when we were alone."

I blink the tears away and hug myself. No wonder Bhaal got mad. He wasn't raising me to be gentle and fun. He wanted a devoted follower. He wanted to own me. And yet I seem to have found myself in someone else instead of him.

He couldn't smite him, so he took it out on me.

"Then why can't I remember any of this?" I whisper. "My murdering days keep coming back to me. But the picture where you should be is blank."

I don't expect it and certainly don't wish for it, but Gortash notices my discomfort and rushes to me. He takes my shoulders and squeezes them reassuringly.

"You are his creation," he says grimly. "He has the power to restore everything within you. It's clear why he chooses only the parts without me: for the same reason he had Orin attack you. You were a different person with me—a person he didn't like and didn't need. He won't let you remember me as long as your blood belongs to him."

I'm getting overwhelmed. I feel used, manipulated, trapped. I feel my fear and smell the scent of my blood as Orin's beating the life out of me, calling me slurs I've never heard of. I feel as if someone's invisible hand presses on my windpipe and I sense a dreadful but familiar presence.

"NO!" I'm shaking my head wildly, trying to push him out. The world seems to blacken around me, but I keep fighting. "I'M DONE WITH YOU, YOU HEAR?!" I yell blindly at the ceiling, pulling on my hair.

YOU CAN NEVER BE 'DONE' WITH ME, CHILD.

I gasp when his voice thunders in my brain without having gone through my ears. It's deafening and it's all around me, smothering me.

YOUR CONTROL IS AN ILLUSION. GIVE IN. OBEY. BEFORE YOU FORCE ME TO END YOU.

I shudder and shrink into myself, falling to my knees, cradling my head. I'm suspended in agony for several impossibly long seconds... then my vision goes black.

02 Daddy sets an ultimatum.

"...Talas... Talas!"

My head is pounding and feels like it's stuffed with cotton. Someone's calling out my name... but it's not really my name.

"Nara!"

There it is. But it feels wrong. I feel movement, but can't tell what's happening.

"You know what," I grumble and I'm surprised to hear my own voice, "I've changed my mind. I hate the way you say it."

"Thank the devils," I hear Gortash snort. "As names go, exchanging 'Talas' for 'Nara' is a pure downgrade."

I open my eyes. Red mist is clouding my gaze. I feel thirsty and hungry. A rough palm cups my chin and a violent jerk runs through my body, making my teeth snap and try biting it. But the hand is strong and its grip tightens enough to hold me still.

"Easy now," Gortash hums, unbothered by my little attack. "You're safe. I'm safe. Let's work through it slowly. We've got all day."

I look up and find his face and it's the only thing I can clearly focus on. Everything else is muted, but his features are so sharp I squint at the intensity at first. But I understand. I know what I want now.

I want to kill him.

I grunt and try to reach for him, but I'm restrained. I look down through the red haze and see myself kneeling on red satin sheets. I'm still wearing all my clothes, but my boots, armor and gauntlet are off. The ties right above my elbows creak like tough leather as I strain against them, but I can clearly feel soft padding pressed against my skin. My wrists are bound in front of me. I can move, sit back, relax...

...but I need to KILL.

"Let. Me. Loose," I filter through my gritted teeth, almost foaming at the corners of my mouth like a rabid animal. Then a maniacal giggle gurgles in my throat. "And I'll show you something fun!"

"For fuck's sakes, you're beginning to sound like Orin," Gortash shakes his head in disappointment. "I'm sure you'd have fun, my dear, but if I'm not completely off my game, I believe you would regret it later. Maybe you would even cry for me?" His brows form a hopeful little arch, a soft smile playing on his lips. "I'm not keen on finding out, but I'd like to think you would."

I growl, pulling on my binds with all my strength.

"Don't be a spoilsport, Enver, come on!" I tease, baring my teeth, my tone dark, rough, vulgar. "I know you like the pain. I will cut you and slice you and bleed you real nice. You'll love it, I promise."

"Ssshhh," he soothes, caressing my face, skillfully evading my bites. "You can cut me when you calm down, Talas. You won't get to kill me today."

Anger jolts through me, hot like a branding iron. I lurch at him, uselessly dangling on the ends of the thick chains tying the leather cuffs to the bed frame.

"You will let me loose! And I'll tear you to pieces." My voice scratches like sandpaper. "I will slit your throat... and as you bleed out, I will lick blood off your soft skin." Growls turn to hisses. "I will drink blood from your sweet lips. I will shower in the thick stream of it as the last pathetic bubbles of your breath emerge and burst at the edges of the fresh cut. Then curl against your struggling chest to listen as your heart stops."

Gortash smiles as he listens, infuriatingly misty gaze softening his features.

"That sounds almost romantic," he purrs. He holds my hair firmly in his fist to keep my head steady and nuzzles my neck, slowly kissing a line from my shoulder up to my lobe. "I always thought the Urge was purely homicidal," he hums against my skin, "but is it possible you're mixing in your love and lust for me? Would you kill me like a lover?"

A chortle escapes my lips and I realize he's given me back a sliver of myself. I don't have the capacity to analyze if it were his words or his touch, but a tiny, heavily suppressed part of me suddenly knows what's happening. It knows this is not me. My Urge is spreading through me like a malignant growth, filling every inch of my torso, of my head, and that little piece of me is watching in horror.

No....

I let out a tortured moan and my head lulls back for a second. I can feel my body spasming and the agony is making it hard to keep my thoughts remotely clear. I hear my blood thrum in my ears, and a low voice speaks inside my skull:

It is wise to obey me. Yet you resist. You did not kill the Moonmaiden. You did not kill the druid. But you WILL kill the Tyrant's Chosen.

Or you will DIE in his place, child.

I feel tears trickle out of my eyes, even as my mouth is making raw, animalistic noises. The pressure in my temple grows so much I feel like my head is going to pop. It's excruciating, but I have no intention to submit. I fight with all my will, defiantly flipping off the god I didn't choose till the bitter end.

"En... ver," I squeeze through the teeth I grind so roughly my jaw hurts. My voice is but a wet wail, a desperate plea—but it's mine.

If I could focus on anything beside the blinding pain, I would see the alarm in his face. I register his hands on my arms, holding me upright. The sound of his voice carries over my head, but I can't distinguish the words. A high-pitched whine fills my ears. My vision fades to black again.

And I fully expect to not wake up this time.

03 We are still alive!

A chunk of void. A big skull in the center of it. Flames dancing in its eye sockets and around it. Almost playful.

I don't understand its meaning. Who am I, anyway?

Even though the skull is clearly before me, I can feel it surround me. It presses on my temples and squeezes my chest. I feel a headache of the century crush my head in its metal jaws.

A creature slinks from behind the skull. Hideous, covered in blood. Long body with a thick tail and four clawed arms. It hisses and chitters, spreading its toothy mandibles. Its beady little eyes are flashing with malice.

I cover my head with my arms as it jumps at me.

But it's not there anymore. I try to gasp, but a sick clicking sound comes out of my mouth instead. I hear rumbling laughter—the giant skull is pleased, it's mocking me.

I reach forward and instead of hands I see claws coated in fresh blood...

.

...and I wake up screaming.

There's water everywhere. I thrash and splash and heave for breath, but my arms are wrapped tight around me and my wrists and ankles bound. I accidentally splash water into my mouth, breathe it in and start choking.

Someone's big, strong, incredibly warm hands fish me out and steady me, patting my back, helping me cough. I hear a soft rumble, but this time it's not eerie and foreboding—it's familiar and soothing. A broad palm strokes my wet hair, humming comforting sounds in my ear.

"You are safe, my love. I'm here."

I lift my heavy eyelids and look up. Halsin's beautiful face is in my view and my heart is uplifted. He puts a cold compress over my forehead and I feel a little better.

"Halsin," I squeeze out of my burning throat, failing to make it sound as loving as I felt.

He smiles anyway and his eyes sparkle with affection.

"You will be alright, my heart. I will take care of you."

"I will too," I hear another voice and Gortash steps into view, obviously annoyed by Halsin taking all the credit. He's hugging his chest, nibbling on the ends of his gold claws, looking anxious and worried.

I finally realize where I am. It's Gortash's study. The flames roar in the fireplace next to the bathtub and all lamps are lit: it's dark behind the tall windows. Through the finally calm water I see my body, completely naked.

But none of those things are important right now.

"Come closer, Enver," I croak, failing to produce a seductive voice, sounding like a hag instead. "Untie me, let's have some fun. We haven't finished what we've started."

Halsin and Gortash exchange glances. It only ticks off my Urge. I flail back and forth in the tub for a second, trying to loosen the binds, but they were put on by someone who knew what they were doing. It infuriates me, tearing a ragged scream from my lungs.

"COME CLOSER, BABY, AND LET ME GUT YOU!"

"Nara," Halsin pleads softly, stroking my hair again, putting back the compress I shook off and adding one to the back of my neck. "You will get through this, I promise. The tepid water and the cold compresses should help lower your blood pressure, so you don't suffer an aneurysm. You popped many blood vessels before you passed out. That's why Gortash called me here."

I feel the Urge let up just a smidge when the cool rags press on my aching head and Halsin's voice and touch give me comfort. I try to breathe deeply and steadily. But no matter how hard we both try, it's no use. I take one look at distressed Gortash and the pull is back in full strength.

"Have you experienced this before?" Gortash asks, doing his best to ignore my rabid growls.

"She woke me up in camp several nights ago," Halsin nods somberly. "Refusal to kill Isobel redirected the Urge at the person closest to her heart, as punishment. She came to me before it overtook her and put her trust in me. It lasted the whole night, but she won in the end. But it was not this bad..."

"He..." I try to utter words that are not permitted to leave my lips. I fight my own muscles to continue. "Said... He... Dies or... I do."

Halsin's brows join in surprise and he glances at Gortash again, whose face darkens even more.

"Sounds like we really pissed Bhaal off this time. She screamed at him, defying him, before the Urge took over. I was just an outside observer, but I figured he was communicating with her. Seems like we know the gist of the conversation now."

"What were you doing?" Halsin wonders.

"Nothing much," Gortash shrugs evasively. "Talking. Talas was learning more about our past, about how and why she came to such an unceremonial end in the cult. Said none of her memories of me returned to her. Clearly Bhaal's job."

"Nhhhnnnhhhng!" I add my gold to the discussion, thrashing in the tub again. I'm glad I'm at least able to follow their words, even though I can't contribute. Sweet images of me running my hands through Gortash's spilled guts flash in the back of my mind, but they're just white noise.

Halsin wipes my upper lip with a troubled expression. He lets go of me to touch the air in that divine way of his, to call upon Silvanus, and pulls healing energy out of nowhere, pressing it to my head with the broad palm of his hand. I breathe a little easier for a few moments.

"If this goes on for much longer, I'm afraid even I might not be able to help you," he sighs, squeezing his eyes shut, pressing his forehead to mine. I gulp and just moan in response, hoping my intonation will convey my thanks.

"I don't suppose we could trick the Urge somehow? Have her stab me a couple of times and then knock her out, and when she comes around I'll be lying in a pool of blood and... You get it."

Halsin chuckles in amusement.

"You would just let her stab you? Are you a masochist, or just so in love?"

"What kind of question is that?" Gortash growls defensively. "We have a problem. I'm offering a solution. If I had to die, I'd prefer it to be by her hand, but I plan no such thing just yet."

"I do not think it works quite like that," Halsin shakes his head. "But thank you for the offer."

"It's... my fault she's like this." Gortash's discomfort at admitting responsibility is evident. "I don't want her to die. So if you have ideas, I'll do anything to help."

"You can help me right now, Enver," I screech, failing to restrain myself. "Come here! Come and make love to me. But don't forget to untie me and bring me a knife. I'll show you a little trick! You'll be positively drained after I'm done with you."

"Perhaps the best thing you can do to help is to get out of her sight for now," Halsin suggests and only a touch of derision reaches his tone.

Gortash frowns and grumbles something under his breath, but takes his leave. There's only Halsin's broad form next to me now, effectively shielding me from seeing Gortash. My Urge immediately eases up and I lean back on the headrest, exhausted from fighting my own muscles.

It doesn't last long, though.

"Halsin?" I coo, swallowing hard as I feel another crushing wave of twisted need.

"Yes, my heart?" He bends down to kiss my forehead. It doesn't work as well as before, but I manage to hold back the instinct to bite.

"I love you," I tell him while I can still form words of my own choosing. "And I'm grateful for everything you do for me. Don't take this personally, but now that you're getting in my way of killing Gortash... I'm beginning to want to kill you, too."

He pulls away, but not far, and studies my face. I can see so much compassion in his eyes, but they're tired and he looks older. He wipes my upper lip again and sighs.

"This is going to be another long night, isn't it, my love?"

.

"Halsin, stop," I mumble weakly as he prepares another spell, looking more and more sapped every time. "Please. Just... let me go."

I'm so run down. The pain is debilitating. In the rare moments of peace, all I can do is float. My mind is fried, my organs struggling to keep running. I've had enough.

But the worst is the thought of accidentally pulling Halsin under with me.

"Do not even start," he growls. His voice sounds dry and spent, but he collects the healing energy and once more fixes some of the damage the high blood pressure has done to my vessels.

I want to cry, but I don't have the strength to do it. But I notice something: it's been really quiet for some time.

"Where's Enver?"

"He is... off trying something else."

The evasiveness would normally make me inquire, but the Urge lashes out again, spasming my body, forcing more horrible words out of my mouth.

"I WILL SKIN YOUR LUSCIOUS PELT, LITTLE BEAR! I WILL WEAR IT ON MY BODY AS I WATCH YOUR PATHETIC ATTEMPTS TO PUT YOUR GUTS BACK IN YOUR BELLY. I WILL—"

04 Unbearable lightness of unprecedented fluff.

I feel like I must have died when I open my eyes and nothing hurts anymore. The world is soft and quiet, the water around me like a blanket, the dim flickering lights enhancing the peaceful silence. Perhaps this was the afterlife.

"Welcome back."

I don't recognize the voice at first. I slowly turn my head to find Halsin—

—but I look into Gortash's worn out face, languidly blinking at me. I see a giant bear slumped on the rugs by the bathtub, exhausted from keeping me alive.

I watch Gortash in fear for a little moment. But there's no tug, no agony this time. I only feel... slight elation. My weary heart flutters, tapping into its last reserves of power.

"Enver," I whisper, letting my eyelids fall. I feel his palm cup my cheek and his lips plant a soft kiss on my forehead. Tears stream down my face, but I can't gather enough strength to sob.

It's over. It's really over. At least for now.

"Sshh," he coos quietly, combing my hair. "Do you feel like you can handle moving to the bed? I'm afraid you'll melt if you stay in that bathtub for much longer."

I take a few breaths and nod. The instant I move, I can feel all my muscles scream in protest, but I push myself through it. He's right, my skin is getting tender from soaking so much, I can't just sleep here anymore.

He unties me and that's when the ache in my arms and hands joins the party, making me whimper. I've struggled against my own body for hours and hours with only short reprieves of unconsciousness. It's taken a heavy toll. But I'm alive, and so is everyone else.

My legs are so wobbly I slip back into the water a few times, splashing around, sprinkling sleeping Halsin. His snout twitches and I hear a grumble, but he doesn't wake up. Poor thing.

Gortash is trying to hold me upright, but his angle is all wrong, standing next to the tub. But on my fourth try I manage. I just lock my knees and hope it'll be enough for a minute. I notice the water in the bath is surprisingly fresh after housing me for so long, but it's already draining—someone must've changed it several times during the night.

I gasp in surprise when warm drops start raining down on my head and shoulders.

"Another handy technological marvel," Gortash smiles. "Just try to keep yourself on your feet. Let me wash you."

He takes a sponge and a bar of soap and begins slowly rubbing my skin under the gentle, refreshing shower.

I'm too busy keeping my knees locked and staying awake to have any deep opinions on why he's being so caring. My foggy, tired mind is simply enjoying his attention.

He's gentle and thorough and doesn't shirk from any part of me, but doesn't linger for longer than necessary. I mistily welcome the muted rush of excitement his touch gives me and close my eyes, fully trusting him like I only could with my marbles scattered all over the floor.

"Mmm," escapes my lips. I don't know words, but apparently I can make sounds.

"Sit back down, I'll wash your hair," Gortash commands softly.

I sit curled up, my eyes shut, jaw slack, little mewls of pleasure coming out of my mouth. His fingers caress my scalp in circular motions, coaxing some blood back into my skin. It melts away my tension and feels so good against the leftover headache that still throbs in my skull.

Gortash picks up the shower head and rinses the shampoo foam off my hair. It finally hits me that it smells like him. I let out a quiet chuckle. Doesn't he have a special flower scented bottle for his feminine conquests? Maybe he just likes marking them this way.

He helps me stand back up again, dabs me with a towel and then wraps me in a robe.

"Come here, princess," he murmurs and pulls me into his arms.

And he carries me to the bed. I don't think I would protest even if I had the energy. I may be a strong independent woman... but this is nice.

He pushes a tray of food and drink to me and we both eat in silence. I can't force much into my wrecked throat, but I thirstily guzzle all the water and wine. The slight buzz is not helping my overused veins, but it does wonders for my cramped muscles.

Then I lie on my side, watching him freshen up and change. I finally have plenty of time and no capacity for shame; I take in every detail of him I can spot. The toned muscles of his legs. The line of fine dark hair on his chest going to his groin. The way his thick hair softly reflects light when it's crisp clean. The pleasant, earthy color of his skin. Every glance he tosses over to check up on me.

My heart flutters again. I gulp hard and convince my eyes to close, so I can't see any more of him.

Suddenly the mattress beside me sinks and I can feel him next to me. The warmth from his body envelops me, his scent fills my lungs and I find myself looking into his dark eyes. My poor blood pressure spikes again and I try making my gulps for air subtle, but I can see the delighted amusement deepen his crow's feet.

"Sleep," he sighs, studying my face. "You need to rest to get your strength back."

He runs his fingers through my damp hair and kisses my temple. His skin is soft and warm, but his short stubble and rough palms leave a tickling sensation that's driving me wild. I inhale a lungful of him and press my mouth to his jaw, testing the scratchy surface against my lips.

I can hear his breath quicken and feel his hand move to my shoulder and rub the silk of my borrowed robe. I take his face in my hands and bite this time—just a little, letting my teeth graze the stubble, enjoying the sweet scratch—and I hear a moan.

I forget myself. I forget who he is. I just want to keep tasting his skin.

His mouth is on mine. I hungrily welcome him in. His hand roams my body, kneading my flesh—mine frantically search his every surface, unable to decide where to stay. Perhaps I'm just cold from exhaustion, but I feel like he's radiating more heat than an average human being. I bathe in the warmth, pulling myself as close as possible.

The way he pulls air in through his teeth when I bite his lip is like music to my ears. How is this man so edible? He drags his fingertips across my face and I suck his thumb into my mouth. The low rumble of his chuckle travels right to the knot in my lower belly and my eyes roll back.

He presses me flush to his body, molding my flesh, and I let out a feral groan, grabbing fistfuls of his thick hair and pulling. I need him. I need him now.

His mouth moves to my neck, but he doesn't kiss and nibble like I want him to, he takes me by the nape and immobilizes me. I can hear his ragged breath in my ear as I blink in bewilderment.

"Talas," he exhales desperately. "I know your opinion of me has taken a sharp dive... but I don't fuck mentally compromised women."

He lets me pull away and I stare at him in doubt. He snorts, shrugging.

"Alright, I guess sometimes I do," he admits, "but I just know you'll wake up in the morning with your wits intact and hate me for taking advantage of you."

The hum of blood in my ears quiets down as I swallow my disappointment. Tears sting in my eyes; I can't tell why, but I feel robbed. He sighs and pulls me closer again, but only to hug me.

"I've missed you so much," he whispers into my hair. "I don't want to ruin this." Running his fingers through my hair once more, spreading soothing tingling over my skin, he rocks me gently. "Sleep. I promise I'll make it up to you later... if you still want me to."

I can barely hear his last words, but I sense the uncertainty in his tone. The pressure around my chest tightens and I wrap my arms around him and hold on. The pleasurable hormones surrender the stage to the exhaustion in my muscles and bones. I feel myself falling asleep even before my consciousness drifts off.

05 Warm bodies.

The soft light creeping in through my closed eyelids rouses me gently, but I'm so tired everything still feels like a dream. I cling to my drowsiness and try to go back to sleep again.

Then I feel a warm palm on my hip, stroking the silky fabric covering me.

I shift slightly, moving into the touch, and the hand slowly travels across my back. Another joins it, caressing my thigh. I moan quietly, reaching out for a body to hold—

—and I find two. Both are very warm and my hungry touch is ecstatic to feel each pressed to one side of me. I gently squirm between them, rubbing myself against soft muscle that eagerly responds in kind. Their musky scent is both soothingly familiar and enticingly erotic. I can hear two breaths and two sets of soft sighs as I let my palms feel my way across their skin.

I open my eyes and meet Gortash's sleepy eyes watching me. My heart jumps up into my throat and I jolt into a sitting position. I turn to find Halsin on the other side—probably crawled onto the bed when he felt strong enough to move again.

"Shit," I mumble under my breath, quickly removing myself off the satin sheets.

"And it was just getting good," Gortash laments wistfully, a tone of amusement coloring his raspy voice.

"Seriously? Jokes?" I pull my robe tighter around my body, suddenly self-conscious about being completely naked under a thin layer of translucent fabric, and prop my hands against my hips. "Did you even realize you were groping me right next to my partner?"

"As I recall, you were enthusiastically groping me back, sweetheart," he smirks. "A few hours back you didn't mind making out in front of him."

I gape mutely at them both for a second.

"I was out of my mind!"

Halsin groggily drags himself off the bed and holds me close, patting my back comfortingly.

"I'm sorry," I hum into his chest.

"There is nothing to be sorry for, my heart." He kisses the top of my head.

I push away to look at him sternly. "Yes, there is. You've spent your whole night taking care of me at great cost to yourself and the first thing I do when I'm finally okay is this? Not even my mental state is an excuse. I only want to make you feel loved and safe, not uncomfortable and uncertain. I don't deserve you."

Instead of appreciating my commitment, albeit failed, I see pain flash in his eyes.

"Halsin?" I sniffle, my chest filling with dread. "Please don't leave me."

His expression melts into a touched one. He cups my face and smiles softly.

"I'm not going anywhere, I promise," he rasps. "Not until you decide otherwise, my love. You have nothing to fear. I will always be by your side, for as long as you'll have me."

I feel tears trickle down my face, the relief mixing into my terror tapping a generous stream.

"Now I'm sorry," he sighs, futilely trying to wipe my tears away with his fingers. "I misunderstood. I thought..."

He didn't have to explain. It didn't even come to mind at first, but I figured it out.

"You thought I would replace you with him?" I chuckle through the turmoil in my chest. "Not in a million years."

"Yes, don't mind me," Gortash growls and removes himself from the bed as well. His face looks like it's carved from stone, cold and hard. We both watch him as he locks himself in the next room, leaving us alone.

"I think you hurt his feelings," Halsin says quietly and I can hear commiseration in his voice. "He really is in love with you, sweet thing."

"Well, I'm not in love with him," I snap. "I don't want to have anything to do with him."

I'm still raw from the suffering Bhaal has inflicted on me, and the realization of just how much my heart has softened towards Gortash puts me on edge. The possibility of hurting Halsin through another bit of my unfortunate past just piles on top of that.

"Far be it from me to push you towards another man," he smirks, mild amusement creeping into his expression. "But I don't want you to limit yourself on my behalf, Nara. I thought you understood that I don't wish to own you." He takes my hands and kisses my knuckles. "If that is what you need, you are free to be with anyone else to any extent you deem necessary for your happiness. I only want you to be safe and happy by my side. That is my only goal."

I close my eyes and let him lean his forehead against mine.

"You know that's my goal too, right?" I mumble.

I can sense he doesn't believe my words—never have. But I haven't figured out why. I really mean it. He's the ray of sunshine in my bleak days. I want him to keep shining at all costs, even if I'm not the one basking in the beams.

"You deserve all the joy you can get, my heart," he whispers. "Do not make me the one to stand in your way. I will always wait for you to come back home to me."

I swallow a new wave of tears. "Then let's go right now."

"No," he sighs. "I will go. You seem to have unfinished business here. When you are ready, find me in camp. I believe you are safe here, at least for as long as you don't try to kill him first," he chuckles.

"I just might," I grouse. "He's playing a dangerous game here. I didn't think he'd be so bold to try to seduce me in front of you. Didn't he notice how big you are? Doesn't he think you'd rip him to pieces if he pisses you off?"

"I think he knows he has a chance." Halsin gives me a slightly patronizing glance, likely getting tired of my refusal to acknowledge my weakness. "Doesn't he?"

"I don't want to have anything to do with him," I repeat, but my voice falters.

He smiles, presses his face to mine and inhales deeply. "I can smell your arousal, little duck," he chastises softly, combing my hair with his fingers.

"That's for you, too," I frown, a little embarrassed, recalling the unexpectedly pleasant first moments of my morning.

"I know," he nods and this time I can tell he's certain. "But you two have history. Unless you explore this road, you might spend the rest of your life wondering 'what if'... I don't want that for you. I don't want that for myself. Whatever you do, I would like you to be sure that you're not missing out on something. I will be here if you decide to come back to me."

I have no more to say. I let him press a kiss to my lips and watch him exit the room. I don't follow. I keep standing where he left me, hugging my shoulders.

"I can't believe you actually stayed."

I whip around to find Gortash in the doorframe, dressed and tidied up, shaved and smelling fresh. He's leaning on the doorframe and though his face is still grim, his swagger doesn't seem to have suffered irreparable damage.

"Don't congratulate yourself just yet, Enver," I sneer.

"Oh, don't be crabby, baby," he purses his lips in mock comfort. "You landed such a perfect boyfriend. I'm jealous, now I want one, too. Hurry up and break his soft heart—maybe he'll be interested in me instead."

"I'm not breaking his heart," I spit. "I love him."

That sentence makes him wince, but he recovers in record time, smirking like the bad boy he is.

"Then maybe I'll break it for you. When he's no longer there to enable you, will you run back into my arms?"

I don't realize I'm moving before I have his stupid tall collar bunched up in a fist, pushing him against the door. I bare my teeth, my nose a hair's-width away from his. My tortured muscles protest against such treatment, but the rush of adrenaline outvotes them.

"Touch him and I'll kill you," I hiss into his face. "Stone or no stone."

The initial flash of surprise, even fear, is quickly replaced with a seductive smile.

"Gods, I missed this fire," he grunts, grabbing my waist and pulling me flush to his body. "Too bad your devotion belongs to another now."

I tear from his grasp, gritting my teeth so hard they squeak. I don't know what else to do; hurting him only gave him twisted pleasure. So I stomp off to the bathroom, looking for my things, so I can leave this cursed place already.

06 Payback is a bitch.

I dress up in my clothes that feel like they've been freshly cleaned and pressed, and complete my morning routine with the conveniently offered supplies left in the bathroom for me. As I put on my gauntlet I have to stop and lean against the sink. My thoughts are spiraling.

Remembering all that I've done since I arrived at this tower is making me hyperventilate. Gods, I really did nearly jump Gortash's bones. My reason was clearly damaged, but... Gathering my wits didn't erase the desire. I still want him. I hate everything he stands for... but I can barely resist him.

I stare into my scarred face in the mirror, hoping to understand my own mind. Even if I really used to love him in the past doesn't mean I should now. It physically hurts me to imagine Karlach's probable response to that. And Wyll's. And everyone's, really. Apart from some of my companions who would prefer to take control of the Brain, or even to actually team up with the Tyrant's Chosen, none would approve.

"Oh, fuck me," I mumble.

I close my eyes for a few long seconds, trying to get a hold of myself. It doesn't help; my mind is serving me memories of Gortash's gentle, respectful touch, in blinding contrast to what I thought I knew about him. How does that happen? Was he just that good at playing me? Or was it genuine?

Poor Halsin. Perhaps the thing that scares me most is his disapproval. Would he stay by my side if I succumbed to my twisted desires? Would he be open to sharing me with a man who doesn't care who he abuses as long as it serves his power-hungry agenda? Even he must have a limit to what he's willing to tolerate.

I slam my hand against the mirror and growl. I feel like I'm being split in two. One part will not let go of the beautiful, peaceful vision of what life can be with Halsin. The other... the darkness in me, one that has nothing to do with the Urge, craves to be nourished, to be recognized and utilized, to be accepted.

Can I have both? Or is that just a mad hope of a lobotomized freak?

I need to get out of here, now.

I rush out of the room, then into the Audience hall. I'm hoping it's deserted and no one will notice me leaving, but Gortash is once again comfortably seated on the throne, his alert eyes on me the second I come into his field of vision. I slump my shoulders and frown, turning to him.

"Hey, look," I choose a neutral tone, nonchalantly hooking thumbs in my pockets, "I gotta go. We have lots to do in the city. There's a vamp that begs to be staked, a pregnant hag on the loose, and also Orin's not gonna kill herself."

"Ah, yes," Gortash drawls, getting up and slowly sauntering towards me. "You're very busy. The slayer of Ketheric Thorm. The hero who's lifted the Shadow Curse. Pretty impressive."

I purse my lips, glaring at him. Of course he figured out it was us who exchanged his planned article in Baldur's Mouth for a puff piece on us.

"Yeah, it would be a shame if we were slandered instead of celebrated, don't you think?" I nip sarcastically.

"Why do you think I made you come here, my dear," he tosses me a sour grin. "You get in my way, I get in yours. You'd do best to remember that."

I roll my eyes, folding my arms over my chest. I actually considered thanking him for what he'd done for me tonight, but I'm not in the mood to do that anymore.

"Yeah, yeah. If you're done threatening me, mind letting me go? Like I said, lots to do. You want the netherstone, or not?"

Gortash stops maybe an inch from me and leans in to whisper in my ear: "You're not a prisoner here, sweetheart."

A powerful shiver runs through me, so strong I can't possibly hide it. His gaze slides down my body and lips twist in a delighted, sinful smirk. My breath hitches at the sight of him and his scent makes my throat go dry.

He pulls back to a little more respectful distance. "But I thought you might want to have that brunch on the balcony I planned for us yesterday. Don't worry," he chuckles, "I had my cook make us fresh food—birds seem to have eaten the last batch, anyway." His gaze lingers on my eyes, gauging my thoughts. "It's sunny outside. I want to sit with you, talk and enjoy the view from this tower."

Still reeling from the mind boggling reaction I'm having to his closeness, I swallow hard. 'What's the worst that can happen' isn't even a question here. I know what can happen. I know what my body, my own treacherous body, wants to happen. But maybe... just maybe... if I spend more casual time in his presence, this assault of hormones will stop.

After all, there's nothing more off-putting than really getting to know the horrible man you're attracted to. Could be just what I need to get over him.

07 What's the worst that can happen?

I let him lead me onto the balcony. Any thoughts get knocked out of me as soon as I lean over the stone wall and stare at the city stretching below us.

I've only spent two weeks here since we arrived, and from up-close it never quite seemed as grand as people tend to describe it. It's big and loud and overcrowded and smelly... But it seems gorgeous from this high above. No wonder Gortash wants to settle up here permanently.

I don't appreciate the thick atmosphere of this place. I miss the clean waters and animal white noise of the picturesque location the nautiloid crashed in. Even the Underdark is breathtaking in its menacing way.

This doesn't feel like home anymore. It's familiar, but I'm a different person.

Much like what I could say about Gortash. The fact that we used to be a thing shouldn't mean that we have to be it again.

I have so many questions it feels like a chunk of anxiety is balled up inside me—I don't even know what to ask specifically, I just know I need a lot of answers. I want to understand what happened between us and how. And how can a man so callous, so cruel to everything else be so gentle and sweet with me.

I have to know what game he's playing. Is he hoping to weaken me? Stab me in the back as soon as I kill Orin and take both the netherstones off my cooling flesh? Was any of what he showed me real?

"Heavy thoughts, Talas?"

I sigh and turn away from the view to see him comfortably sprawled on an actual rug stretched over the stone floor.

"Couldn't get a blankie?" I quip, shaking my head. "Your ass get too soft?"

"Well, since I don't have to live rough anymore, I just don't do it," he chuckles, tapping a spot next to him. "Come have some comfort, too. I imagine you're not used to it anymore, being on the road for so long."

"I think I pretty much forgot what comfort felt like when that Myrkulite bitch of a torturer got a hold of me," I say dryly as I make my way to the picnic. I immediately see the change in his expression and his fists clenching.

I sit down and stretch my legs in front of me. "Do all your Absolute lackeys respect you this much, or was she special?"

"That's still under investigation," he growls darkly. An image of his most loyal soldiers beating information out of the slightly less loyal soldiers crosses my mind. "The nerve on her. The nerve on Ketheric. He should've told me."

"I guess plotting to take over the world doesn't make for the best bonding time," I smirk, picking up a chalice of wine.

"True," he nods, deciding to wash his rage down with some wine as well. "This is not a circle of trust. I even had to kill a number of my own for being too ambitious. Mostly when they tried to assassinate me to take my place. Or get to me through you."

"Hm," I grimace, not ready to believe I was so important to him that he wouldn't sacrifice me in a blink of an eye if it brought him enough reward. "How do you know I won't kill you? Bhaal sounded pretty determined. He'll try again. You might not get so lucky this time."

"He won't. Not until you get rid of Orin."

I raise my eyebrows at him and toss a few grapes in my mouth. "How would you know?"

Gortash pauses, looking away, squinting at the sky.

"Last night I told her what was happening, got her properly pissed off. I promised you would come to her, which is what you want, anyway. She went to talk to him, to convince him she's capable of defeating you. I hoped she had the pull—and it looks like she does, because it worked. Bhaal wants you to ritually combat her at the Temple just a smidge more than he wants me dead—and can always make either of you do it later."

He says it in such a matter-of-fact tone as if he didn't just confess to virtually saving my life. I gape at him mutely, wine forgotten half-way to my lips.

"Well," I chuckle in disbelief, "I'm stunned that you didn't brag about it immediately."

"I knew you would see it as bragging, no matter when I told you," he rolls his eyes, chugging his wine. "So I wasn't going to. Until you asked."

I shrug and nod, admitting that's true. I'm always ready to believe the worst of him. Just in case.

"But you should know." He turns to me, face serious, gaze intense. He takes my hand and squeezes. "When Orin is dead, he will sic you on me. It won't matter what you feel or what your agenda is. This time he'll have no reason to relent, he will have one of us dead."

He sighs and tucks a loose strand of my hair behind my ear with the same tenderness I tasted last night. His eyes are warm and gentle.

"If nothing else works... I will let you kill me," he whispers and my breath catches in my throat. "Which is why I suggest you keep your word and we finish our plan together. If we're successful, we might have enough power to keep him away from us."

I watch his hair flow in the breeze around his face. He lets go of my hands and looks to the sky again, as if the endlessness of it helped him feel like he has more options, more freedom.

"So, at the least, we have until you kill her."

His voice is so heavy, raspy, wistful, I shiver again. He doesn't even suggest that we actually stay together or anything... he's just contemplating the near future, counting down days until he might not see me again. Or live.

"You would just let me kill you?" I ask, suddenly reminded of Halsin's similar question from last night. Gortash brushed it off then and I was too busy trying to survive, but it hits differently now.

I see his throat jump as he gulps. He seems to mull over his answer. Then squeezes his eyes shut.

"I began hatching the Absolute plan for my sake only. I wanted power and control. But then you came..." He flashes me a glance, almost shy. "And things changed. So slowly I didn't even notice at first. But I started to work towards a different goal. I wanted to make this work for us. Make the world the perfect place for us to be happy in. To do whatever we want, to have all the comforts, all the fun."

He pauses for a long time. I'm wracking my brain to try to remember something, anything, so that I could confirm his words, but the memory of him is still as incorporeal as before.

Before I figure out how to react, he speaks up again:

"I didn't know how differently it could end," he rasps and I'm in shock to notice his eyes getting somewhat wet. "How someone could hate me, hate you, so much that they would tear us apart and destroy everything." This time he looks at me steadily, though I can see how much effort it takes him to not let his sight run away again. "I love you, Talas. We were having so much fun I hadn't realized it... until I lost you."

I rapidly blink in utter bewilderment. My heart squeezes hard. I feel tears fighting their way out of my eyes. I can taste bitterness in the back of my throat. As if the only thing I could remember about our past is how heartbreaking it was to be separated from him like this.

And I realize that I believe him. It makes sense. Bhaal's ultimatum revealed one thing: this murder was personal to him. I really must have been in love with Gortash before my disappearance. Enough to make the Lord of Murder feel threatened and want our bond broken.

And I'm beginning to see why—to see past my initial impression of him, past his flaws and sins. It makes me scared. What happens if I give in to it, even if just for a little while?

But just how much time to decide do I really have?

08 Innocence of a guilty man.

Turns out, I don't need much time at all.

Gortash's confession was so raw it's impossible for me to stop thinking about it. He's quiet as we eat our breakfast, and so am I, but my head is buzzing. The alcohol doesn't help hold my walls up, but I don't think being sober would save me now.

'We only have until you kill Orin.'

That could be mere days. We've only just arrived, but already met her more than once—sniffing around, gauging our weaknesses, snickering maniacally and giving us the creeps. If we don't strike first, she will. Not to mention the ticking clock that was the tadpole wriggling in my head, threatening to turn me into a tentacled monster the second the Brain breaks free of Gortash's and Orin's control. We are all screwed if we don't find her soon.

My mind ambushes me with slightly fuzzy memories of last night. The way Gortash washed me, the way he carried me to the bed like royalty, the way he cared. I don't have to run away and marry him in secret to enjoy him. I don't have to make any promises at all.

I can just have him one last time. Whatever happens next.

"Well," I peep, nervous about what I'm going to do, "since we're full, alone and have the time... maybe we can... uhm."

Gods, I'm awful at flirting. I'm so lucky Halsin decided to approach me first. We would still be hungrily circling each other if he hasn't.

To my utter dismay and embarrassment, Gortash laughs out loud. "You haven't improved one bit," he shakes his head.

"Shut up," I grunt, trying to hide in my hair.

He props himself on one elbow, reaching for my jaw, caressing me and pulling me down to him for a kiss.

"Your best line so far was 'I would love to carve you up real slow,'" he smirks, coaxing me to look up. "Fortunately, that worked like a charm on me."

My brow crinkles and I burst into vivacious laughter. It makes me feel better, more at ease. I guess I didn't change that much.

"Gods, it's been forever since the last time I heard that laughter," Gortash sighs, stricken.

He attacks my mouth voraciously, making me gasp into the kiss.

It's different than before. It's not libido that drives him this time. There's pain behind the layers of need. Pain of long separation, of deep grief, of lost hope, of impending death. He's virtually inhaling me, as if he would love nothing more than to blend into me.

I feel dizzy and compelled to return the kiss with the same intensity, even though I'm running out of breath. I don't want to hold back anymore. What good would it do me to fight my feelings when this is the last time I get to have him.

His skin is much smoother after the morning shave, but I can still feel the faint remnants of stubble gently scratching me. I run my fingers all over his face, trying to imprint every shape of him into my damaged brain. I come across the scar on his chin and the sensation feels more familiar than ever. I know I've touched this scar before.

His hand copies my movements, tracing my scars. They must be new to him; Orin left them on me when she tried to kill me. He remembers my face when it was still flawless, yet his fingers are feeling my new imperfections with reverence.

"Bleed that bitch slowly," he rasps against my skin. "Savor the kill. You deserve a sweet revenge for this."

"I wish I could do the same to Bhaal," I reply breathily.

"So do I, my love. So do I." He pulls away a little, skin flushed, eyes misty. "Let's go inside. It's chilly here, you might catch a cold."

I squeeze my eyes shut, half wanting to laugh, half crying. I feel him get onto his feet and the next thing I know I'm in his arms, carried like a princess once more. I hug his shoulders and hide in his neck, nibbling hungrily, making his breath catch as he's walking towards his study, gait a bit wobbly.

My legs are weak too—I nearly buckle as he puts me down by the bed. I steady myself holding onto him, while he's doing his best to keep my armor and clothes intact as he's pulling them off my body in ragged, desperate moves.

He pauses with his hands hovering over my offered gauntlet.

"What?" I wonder. "Think you won't be able to enjoy it without me hurting you?"

He tilts his head, squinting in the distance. "I don't think we've ever tried that."

"Just take it off," I say and put his fingers on my wrist. "If it's not enough, I can always use my nails."

"To be honest," he raises his eyebrows pensively, "I don't think I even care. I just want to be with you."

He shakes the metal off my hand and tosses it to the floor. Then his eyes find his own, with the glowing netherstone adorning it.

"I promise I won't steal it," I chuckle. "At least not until I have Orin's."

He doesn't seem to appreciate my teasing. He takes the gauntlet off, but quickly puts it in a small, sturdy looking metal box and locks it inside.

I roll my eyes. "Still don't trust me, Enver? Did I use to fuck people just to get their precious stuff and favors? I thought that was more your style."

"Just a precaution against whomever else might be sneaking through the tower," Gortash smirks and returns to me. "You weren't even interested in fucking until you met me," he touches my face. "Granted, you didn't have many eligible choices around you, with your father keeping you in dark tombs among abominations. But I taught you everything, little lover."

My breath hitches a little at the realization, but I gulp the shock down.

"Well, then I guess I'm glad you've been sleeping around with so many of your noble conquests. Would hate to be taught by someone inexperienced."

He laughs with his eyes shut, then sighs and pulls me into his embrace.

"Oh, Talas, don't be jealous. There's no need to drag nobles into my bed anymore. I did try to drown my grief in a few... but it never helped. You were my first in months."

I blink at him, stunned by his words yet again. "Explains why you looked like you hadn't bathed in weeks at your inauguration." I swallow hard, distressingly aware of his enticing scent now.

"I've let myself go a little, yeah," he admits with an amused grin. "My company didn't mind. I thought Ketheric smelled like death, but then I met Orin." I snort and he joins me. "That faint stench of rotting flesh makes me want to gag. You, though..."

He buries his nose in the crook of my neck, pulling off his clothes. "You." He inhales a lungful of me, groaning. I shiver, closing my eyes, running my fingers through his hair. "The sweetest thing I've ever tasted."

I yelp as he suddenly picks me up and lets us both collapse onto the bed. Our limbs tangle, skin grazing skin, our mouths lock in a thirsty dance of tongues. It's a strange feeling, like being with him for the first time, even though it's far from it. I'm not fighting him, not resisting unwelcome desires, not trying to pretend this isn't what I want... I give myself to him willingly and eagerly.

09 Your fingerprints all over me.

He pulls us higher and flips us over, so he could lean on the head of the frame with me on top. The unexpected exposure makes me flinch. I'm still getting used to showing all of myself even to Halsin, and this... I haven't had time to decide how to feel about it. But the way he watches me makes me shudder. His gaze worships every inch of me, his fingers following closely after. So I lean into his touch and close my eyes, letting my mind rest in the soft waves of pleasure.

"How are you even more breathtaking than before," Gortash whispers so quietly I'm not sure he even meant to be heard.

I look down at him, using the rapidly depleting brain capacity to study his face some more. I didn't think he was capable of such adoration. I'm trying to hold onto my healthy doubts for the sake of everyone who's put their trust in me, but it's getting truly difficult.

So I choose to focus on the rest of him instead. On how he makes me feel.

I let my hands wander over his body, enjoying the inexplicable electric sensation of touching his deliciously mocha skin. Making him shiver as I run through the fine hair on his chest he so likes to show off. His muscles are defined just the right amount, well hydrated and comfortably soft. The little love handle on his tummy makes my mouth water and my hips grind against him wantonly.

He groans and grabs me by the nape to pull me into a ravaging kiss. I lift off his lap just enough to help him slip inside me. I cry out softly, unable to hold back the sweet tears of ecstasy.

My needy mouth devours him. He holds my hip in a firm grip to help me ride him. The fingers of his free hand dig into my back, desperately pressing me to his chest, but the hurt they cause isn't physical. I don't want to look into his eyes, I know they will bewitch me.

But I fail and let his gaze swallow my soul.

I can't focus on kissing him anymore. I just lay my forehead on his shoulder and keep rolling my hips. I feel the crushing orgasm closing in when he rakes my hair and starts murmuring in my ear:

"I love you, Talas. I love you."

I let out a sob as it hits me like a wall. I'm not screaming or moaning—I'm crying. My heart is breaking, my soul is splitting... Yet, in the midst of my torment, there's mind boggling ecstasy shooting through my body like lightning.

He caresses my back, letting me ride out the last of the tremors, while I latch onto his mouth again, mixing his intoxicating taste with the salt of my tears. He doesn't seem bothered, drinking my inexplicable sorrow eagerly, thirstily.

I collapse onto his warm chest and keep softly sobbing into his flesh.

I remember now.

"Are you alright?"

I don't respond for a long while. I just keep slowly rolling my hips, not letting him stop making love to me. He listens to my intentional body language, running his fingers gently all over my skin, and lets me deal with it in peace before I'm ready to speak up.

"I love you too, Enver."

The leftover reason in my brain gags its mouth in horror. But I know that it's true. It's been true the whole time, I just didn't know, being stripped of all my memories of him.

The memories didn't return per se. Only feelings. I was a drooling mess, and still my heart yearned for something I lost. Someone I lost. I doubt I could even recall his name or his face... but I knew I needed him.

"Please," I sniffle, finally dragging myself up to look at him. "Make me forget how I know this. It hurts."

That strange sucking feeling in the center of my chest suddenly makes sense now. I've had it since the crash. My head was empty, but my heart ached for him.

"Talas," he whispers, cradling my head. I watch his eyes well up like mine.

I kiss him, letting him tangle his fingers in my hair. He presses my face closer to his and drowns in my mouth. When we're out of breath, he leaves my lips to travel up to my cheeks and eyes, kissing away every tear.

He wraps me in his arms and smoothly rolls us over, pressing my back into the red satin sheets. He holds my hands above my head and I expect him to get rough—I wouldn't mind having this gnawing emotional anguish knocked out of me with a delicious pounding I know he's keen to inflict.

But his fingers lace with mine and his eyes watch me with tenderness I didn't think he was capable of. He's not done fighting for me.

And I'm not done being loved by him.

I hold his gaze, studying the specs of color in his irises. I let out soft moans as he languidly moves inside me and kisses my mouth without breaking eye contact. And when my body begins buzzing, building up to another mind-shattering climax, I whisper his name. The first one slips from my lips accidentally, but as my mind clouds I get bolder. When my body spasms and my toes curl, I scream it over and over in between waves of ecstasy.

His gaze never wavers—up until his own finish catches him unprepared, drawing a surprised, tender whimper out of him. His body quivers, uncontrollably shooting hot seed inside of me as he holds me close, encasing me in his arms like something fragile and precious, moaning my name into my ear.

Mind blank, I just lay, limbs wrapped around him, not willing to let go. We stay like this, gently caressing each other, panting, cooling off. It's not until we start getting uncomfortable that we're finally forced to let go.

"How would you feel about having a bath together again?" Gortash suggests, his roguish smirk gracing his lips once more.

I'm all sweaty and sticky and full of his load, so I nod.

I don't want to leave just yet. Going back into the real world means being faced with responsibilities and morality. It means remembering what a menace this man is to the city. It means considering losing him forever if he decides to stand in our way. I'm not ready for that. Not after I had an emotional charge the size of an extinction-level catastrophic event go off in my chest just minutes ago.

10 One last chance.

Gortash fills the tub with hot water and takes me by the hand. But it seems like I'm not quite ready for this, either.

Come on. It's just a bathtub. The only place that's actually filled with horrors is your own head.

And I recall all the tenderness and care that happened around it, as well. Two diametrically different men doting on me, sacrificing their strength and favors for me. The thought further eats away at the walls of my poor heart.

"Need some help?" Gortash glances at me, evidently understanding my hesitation. His arm snakes around my waist and he kisses my temple. "Come on. I'll be in there with you. Promise not to tie you up this time—unless you want me to," he chuckles into my hair.

I snort and relax a little. There was really nothing to be afraid of; Bhaal was taken care of for now, there was no reason for my Urge to come out this soon. But my legs won't work.

"Yeah, I do need help," I sigh, draping myself over his shoulders.

He tosses me a wicked grin and picks me up. "You're getting used to this fast."

"It's a nice thing to get used to," I shrug innocently.

"You know you got heavy?"

"Maybe you got out of shape," I narrow my eyes at him, then we both laugh.

I almost don't notice how he submerges both of us in the pleasantly hot water. My heart thrums in my throat for a bit, but then Gortash starts rubbing my neck and shoulders, massaging the tension out of them. I let him do it for a while, then close my eyes and lay my head in the crook of his neck.

"Thanks for saving my life last night," I mumble and I really mean it. "I was ready to beg Halsin to mercifully end me. Wait, no, I did actually beg."

I feel his palm run along the side of my face, then his fingers combing my hair back in soothing motions. "It's the least I could do after putting you in danger. I'm so sorry, Talas."

"It wasn't your fault," I sigh. I know what he means, but... when two people fall in love, neither of them should be held responsible for the disproportional reaction of their relatives.

"I still can't believe how close you were this whole time," he rasps and I his hands ball into fists. "Bloody Ketheric. What a low, petty revenge for making him feel uncomfortable and redundant during our Absolute meetings."

I snort. "How were we getting on his nerves so much?"

I feel his chuckle reverberate into me through my back. "You used to like sitting on my lap and making out while he was speaking. And whenever you spaced out during discussions, or simply didn't have an opinion, you would always back me up, not even listening to his arguments."

"Oh," I grimace. "We were very dismissive of him. I'm not surprised he felt affronted."

"Oh, Talas." I hear exasperation in his voice. "He kept you in his dungeon as a toy for his deranged 'scientist' and let me believe you were dead. He deserved to get his tongue ripped out and be beaten to death with it. Would you really just forgive him?"

"I'm kidding," I turn to him, eyes still closed, and plant a kiss on his chin. "I hate his fucking guts. I'm just sad I wasn't able to make his death proper fun."

"There she is, my Bhaal-babe."

"We've met all of his children," I growl. "All cursed and deranged, almost begging to be put out of their misery. The man couldn't give two fucks about any of them, beside precious Isobel he raised from the dead in exchange for their lives, with thousands of innocent souls on top. He didn't deserve redemption and he knew it."

There's a long pause and I can feel Gortash tensing up.

"Do I?"

That knocks the breath out of my lungs. My eyes open wide, but I only stare into the distance.

Why would he even ask that? He didn't seem remorseful of his many, many sins. He looked straight in Karlach's face and looked pleased with himself. He tadpoled Wyll's father and shipped him who-knows-where the minute he got him to surrender his title. He subjugated a whole city and prepared to wage a fake war on it, just so he could pronounce himself its savior.

And those were only the deeds we knew about so far.

"Do you think you deserve it?" I deflect the question back at him, unsure how to respond. Suddenly I'm aware of how naked and defenseless I am in his presence again.

"Shh," he rubs my arms, noticing my discomfort. "I didn't mean to make you bristle up. In the end, Ketheric was left with no one who supported him out of their own free will. I know how depressing that is—I was in the same position before you returned. There's a big difference between doing things because you know you're alone against the world, and doing things for someone you love."

I scoff. "Well, if that's how you operate, how about you give me the stone and help me clean up this mess? Because that's the only way this," I gesture between him and myself, "is going anywhere. You know that what we just did doesn't really change anything between us, right?"

I can see the hurt in his eyes—but no surprise. He knows. He's just probing for another option. Or trying to manipulate me. Whichever.

He decides to abandon the topic. "We've never done it like this before," he studies my face. "You changed so much."

"Enver," I sigh, feeling almost bad for him. "How do you still want me back, when I'm not even the woman you remember?"

Silence. He evades my gaze, watching the sunlight behind the tall stained glass windows. He doesn't seem to understand it himself.

"I guess you've given my life more meaning than anything I've ever done before."

My heart and eyelids flutter, touched more deeply than I was willing to admit.

I know what that feels like. I could've let my Urge dictate my path, succumb to the thirst for blood and death, do what I knew to do best. Instead, I've found myself in people around me, people of varying degrees of 'good' who sometimes struggle as much as I do.

I've found purpose in keeping them alive. In helping them denounce their gods, avenge their traumas, fix their mistakes, save what's important to them. In loving them as much as they've grown to love me. They healed me in ways medicine and magic could never have done on their own.

They saved me, and now I would rather choose death than let a bloodthirsty god take control over my life again.

Perhaps Gortash would do the same...?

I don't dare to guess. Not until I see the change with my own eyes, in action, when I present the choice to him with Orin's netherstone in hand.

Because I've just decided that I will do just that. Despite everything he's done, everything that deserved grave, and likely final, punishment, I will allow him one last chance to do better.

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[bamber344]

Cracks In The Façade

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posting this now because i can't be F'ed waiting till tomorrow morning tbh...

We've got a Steve and Vivienne double POV special! it was my first time inside both of their heads so I hope I've done them justice!

CWs: references to previous torture (beating, cutting), gun whump, minor medical whump, caretaker who is just doing her best fr fr, references to past gaslighting, living weapon whumpee

enjoy!

Cracks in the Façade

Detective Steve Matthews sighed, grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling it away from his chest to allow some airflow. It was a blisteringly hot day, and he’d rather be anywhere other than where he was right at that moment; standing in the sun outside of a convenience store that just got held up. The perp didn’t get very far, thankfully. Seven had been patrolling nearby and took the man down before he could make it across the street. Now Steve was just here to take statements and collect evidence in the summer heat. Or, more like he was there to supervise the beat cops as they did all of those things under the direction of another detective while he just stood around sweating. As if Captain de Vygon would actually let him lead his own investigation.

At least he didn’t have it as bad as Seven did, though. It couldn’t have been cool in that intimidating black armour, and he knew that the captain was breathing down her neck just as hard as his – probably even harder. Ever since those SWAT officers were killed a week ago, Seven had been moving differently; almost gingerly, as though she was hurt, or so Steve had noticed in their few encounters. It rose warning flags in the back of his mind. Something just wasn’t right about that whole situation. Steve didn’t trust de Vygon’s integrity at the best of times; he wouldn’t put it past him to beat his volunteer superhero for a mistake, especially one so extreme. The real question was, why would Seven put up with it? It just didn’t sit right.

Well, what was he going to do about it, anyway? He wasn’t a hero. He was barely a cop. Seven was an adult woman and a borderline supersoldier. He’d seen her flip a grown man over her tiny 5’3” frame and break his arm with ease. If she had a problem with how things were going behind the scenes, she could get herself out of it. The Union would take her in no questions asked if she wanted. It was probably just in his head.

Right now, the woman was standing some distance away, seemingly spacing out while staring through the window at the mannequins on display in a woman’s clothing boutique. She seemed to have relaxed some now that she wasn’t on active duty, antsily twiddling her fingers together as she examined the clothes. Steve walked over to her. He had nothing better to do, after all.

“Thinking about buying something?” he asked.

Seven jumped a little before turning to him. “S-sorry?”

“Are you thinking about buying something from here? You seem pretty fascinated by what they got on display.”

Seven looked at him, and then back to the mannequins, wringing her hands nervously. “Um, I don’t have any money. I was just… looking.”

No money? That was odd. Though, perhaps she just meant she didn’t have any on her. It didn’t look like her armour had pockets, to be fair.

Steve shrugged. “Still, you work hard. You should treat yourself. Why not come back after your shift is done?”

Seven stared at him, and though he couldn’t see her face, he could sense the confusion in her body language. She looked back and forth between him and the boutique a few times. “Uh… O-okay…”

The more Steve interacted with her outside of combat scenarios or de Vygon’s presence, the more he felt like there was something seriously weird going on. Her apparent personality just didn’t match the front she put up whenever she was working. If he had to guess, he’d say she almost felt like… like a sheltered kid or something. Where the hell did de Vygon find this girl?

A memory flashed through his head, but he shook it off. He’d heard it enough from the precinct counsellor; it was just a hallucination induced by stress and a lack of sleep, nothing more.

The awkward silence stretched on. Steve sighed. “Well, whatever. Do what you want. I’m gonna head back to the scene; I think the boys are almost done with the evidence.”

He turned and started walking away, hearing Seven’s footsteps following along behind him. He approached her because she’d looked a little lonely, standing there staring at the store like a puppy with a toy it couldn’t have, but now he felt bad about interrupting her privacy and ruining her quiet moment.

They got back to the scene. Steve busied himself catching up on the evidence that had been logged, while Seven milled around, as she was wont to do at crime scenes. A few days after her first appearance, a couple of fleeing perps returned to a scene that she’d already left and ruined some evidence before the police could stop them. Ever since then, she’d made a habit of sticking around to ensure everything went smoothly, unless there was another pressing issue that required her attention.

It was a few minutes later that things went awry. A loud crack echoed across the street and Seven flew backwards. All of the officers dove for cover and Steve was no exception; throwing his car door open and hiding behind it. There was a shooter, and if they had managed to knock Seven off her feet, they had to be packing some serious heat.

Steve glanced around. Seven was on the floor, but she was still moving. According to de Vygon, that armour of hers was bullet-proof. He hoped for her sake that was correct. She lifted her head, trying to get up, but another shot ripped through the air and sparks flew from Seven’s helmet as she was forced straight back to the ground.

Steve drew his pistol, taking a deep breath. He peeked through the window of the open car door, looking up at the roof of the opposite building. The sky was blindingly bright, but he could just about make out a figure perched on the edge. Light glinted from the scope of the sniper rifle in their hands.

One of the other officers returned fire and the figure startled, backing up and taking their rifle with them. A huge pair of dark wings unfurled from their back and flapped, lifting them from the roof with improbable speed. Steve took aim and fired a few shots, but none of them met their mark. The figure was too fast, ducking and weaving through the air until they were gone from sight.

“Seven, are you alright?!” Steve asked, jumping out of his hiding spot to check on her.

Seven groaned, lifting her head again. The glass on the front of her visor was cracked, but it didn’t look like the bullet had gone through. Most likely, it ricocheted off the edge. He couldn’t tell where the first shot had impacted, but the woman didn’t seem that much worse for wear, if a little winded. “Y-yeah… I’m okay.”

“Come on, we might still be able to see them from the roof!”

Steve turned to the other officers. “Put out an APB! We’re looking for someone with huge black wings and a sniper rifle! They won’t be able to hide!”

The authority in his voice surprised even him, but it spurred the officers into action, scrambling to communicate with dispatch to organise a manhunt. With that out of the way, he turned back to the building the shooter was perched on, running towards it. Seven was back on her feet by now, right behind him.

She cleared the building in a single jump, disappearing over the edge of the roof. Steve wasn’t so blessed with augmented abilities, and as such had to painstakingly climb his way up the fire escape, activating muscles he probably hadn’t used in years. He was definitely going to be sore by tomorrow morning.

Finally, panting and gasping from exertion, he reached the roof, but it was too late. The winged person was nowhere to be seen. It was just their luck that their suspect would be able to fly. Still, they’d find them in time. There was no way someone with such an obvious power could hide themselves for long.

Seven was looking at the floor, where the shooter had been perched. Scattered around the area were a dozen long black feathers, no doubt left by their wings. Once again, Steve was hit by a memory he’d been trying to forget, of a night roughly eighteen months ago, where he’d seen an impossible sight that subsequently nose-dived his career.

~~~

It was a little past one in the morning on a cold winter’s night, and Steve Matthews was returning to precinct 23 to pick up some case files he needed to look over. It had been a long week, and exhaustion was clawing at him like a feral cat, trying to drag him to bed, but there was still work to be done. He promised himself that once he got back to his apartment, he would sleep and go over the files in the morning, and that assurance gave him the strength needed to keep going for these last few hours.

It was when he was just about to enter the precinct that it happened. The glass door flew open and Steve froze as he came face to face with the two girls running out. They froze in turn, staring him down. In the dim light from the street lamp, Steve could just about make out their appearances, and what he saw shook him to his core.

One girl was older; clearly an adult, and the other was probably in her early teens, if Steve had to guess. They were both dressed in identical black thermals and had shaved heads. The older one had a large pair of wings sprouting from her back, the feathers puffing up in anticipation. Both girls had the exact same face; one that should’ve belonged to a dead woman. The younger one’s eyes held a cocktail of fear, sorrow, and pain. In her older sister, there was only rage.

A small twitch of her feathers was all the warning he got before the older one was wrapping her arms around the teen, beating her wings against the cold air and disappearing into the dark sky, leaving Steve alone to contemplate the impossible thing he’d just witnessed.

~~~

Steve remembered how hard Captain de Vygon had tried to convince him what he’d seen wasn’t real. He remembered all of the counselling sessions he’d been forced to go to, all the cases he’d been forced to drop because of his supposed ‘unstable mental state.’ According to de Vygon, of course it had been a hallucination! Why else would both girls have had the face of a dead superhero? Rosalyn Garcia-Holmes was one of the most famous superheroes Tombguard had ever seen, and Steve had even met her a handful of times before her death thanks to his niece. It made sense that his brain would pick out her face to put on the actors in its mysterious play. It was all just in his head. Steve had even started to believe it himself. Now, however…

Steve looked over at Seven. She came from precinct 23, just like those two mystery girls. What face hid underneath that visor of hers? Why was everything about her so weird? Just what exactly was de Vygon doing underneath the precinct?

Seven was still staring at those feathers. A thought occurred to him; a pit opening in his stomach. If those girls had all come from the same place, there was every possibility that they knew each other. And now, one of them had just shot Seven with clear intent to kill. Regardless of what else was going on behind the scenes, that had to sting.

“Did… Did you know who that was?” he asked carefully.

Seven hesitated, but ultimately shook her head. “N-no. Captain de Vygon has spoken of a girl with wings before, but I don’t know who she is.”

Her voice was slurring a little. Steve frowned. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I-”

—

“Did you hear that?” Brianna asked, craning her head around despite the fact that she wouldn’t be able to see anything, anyway.

“Hear what?” Viv replied. They were sitting together on a rooftop, enjoying a lunch break from their patrol. Not that there was really much to be patrolling for, especially not for a support hero and rescue hero, but it was a good excuse for both of them to get out of studying for a while, and enjoy the warm summer’s day. That reminded Vivienne that Maddie was probably about due to be dragged out of the house again, as well. Rosie would kill her if she let her wife rot inside all summer, and they hadn’t really done anything since Rosie’s death anniversary aside from hang out and play video games together.

Brea frowned. “Sounded like gunshots. Over in that direction.” She nodded her head down the street, her shoulder-length braids swishing back and forth with the movement.

“Should we go check it out?”

Brea shrugged. “If you wanna. I’m not too keen to get caught up in a fight or something, though.”

“We’ll just have a look from a distance,” Viv said. “If it’s something we can help with, maybe we can step in, but we’ll see.”

“Alrighty then, sounds good.”

The two of them stood up and Viv took Brianna’s hand. In an instant, the scenery changed and they were about two kilometres down the street. Brea shuddered - she still wasn’t very used to teleportation - as Viv looked around. There were a few police cars parked a ways away, and she could just about make out two people on a rooftop nearby.

“So?” Brea asked. “Anything interesting?”

Vivienne squinted. “A couple of cop cars, and… I think that’s my uncle? And that new hero that works with the police, too. They’re on a roof. Doesn’t look like anything dangerous is going on anymore.”

“Y’know, I’ve been wondering what that new hero’s deal is. I’ve heard a lot of weird rumours on the radio. What’s her name again? Seven?”

“Yeah. Maddie and I met her a couple weeks ago. We didn’t really get to chat though, because de Vygon showed up and swooped her away. Wanna see if we can say hi?”

“Might as well. Not like we’ve got much better to do. Just… warn me before we teleport next time, please? I know I can’t actually see that we’ve moved, but something about the way the air pressure pops just throws me off.”

“Sure, sorry about that.” She took Brianna’s hand again. “You ready?”

Brea took a deep breath and nodded. Vivienne focused on the empty space a few feet away from her uncle. She did a countdown for Brea’s benefit and as soon as she reached zero, Viv flipped the switch in her brain and the space that she was focusing on appeared under her feet. She turned her good cheer up to eleven and announced herself to the two police officers.

“Hey guys! What’s-”

Seven whipped around and a wave of darkness spilled from the seams in her armour, barrelling towards the two of them. Viv stumbled backwards, waving her hands.

“Wait, wait! Friendly!”

The wall of shadow stopped inches from her face, dissipating into the air. Seven didn’t drop her combat stance though, watching them through her visor like a hawk. Speaking of which, her visor looked seriously messed up. The opaque glass was spiderwebbed with cracks, coalescing at a point near her temple. Also, it sort of looked like there was a hole in her armour, right above her heart. What the heck happened here?

“I-it’s just me! You know, Vivienne? We met one time? Oh yeah, and this is Brianna, she’s my friend. Hi, uncle Steve!”

“Yo,” Brea said.

Steve sighed. “Hello Vivienne. This is a crime scene, you can’t be here.”

They must have startled Seven something fierce. Her whole body was shaking. Viv frowned, ignoring her uncle.

“Are you okay? You don’t look well.”

The woman finally dropped the combat stance, putting a hand on her chest. “D-detective… I… I think the first shot pierced my armour…”

Steve whirled around. “What?! You said you were okay!”

“I- I thought… The shock must’ve… It… It hurts.” Her voice cracked into something almost like a sob at the end. Vivienne’s gut wrenched.

“Uncle! There’s a first-aid kit in your car, right?”

Steve blinked, taken aback. “Y-yes, but-”

“Brea, get her to lay down. I’ll be back soon!”

“You got it,” Brea replied.

Viv turned to Seven. “You can trust us, alright? I know first-aid; I’m studying to be a nurse right now. It’s going to be okay. We’re gonna fix you right up. There’s nothing to worry about.”

Seven nodded shakily. “O-okay…”

Vivienne jumped into action, grabbing her uncle’s wrist and teleporting him down to where the police cars were milling. He barked some orders at the other officers as they made their way to his car, relaying the situation and telling them to inform Captain de Vygon while Viv opened the trunk and grabbed the first-aid kit. She wasted no time teleporting them back to the roof-top, pleased to find Seven already lying on her back. Brea was holding her hand, speaking softly to her.

“Do you want to take your helmet off?” she asked. “You might be able to breathe a little easier without it.”

Seven shook her head. “Not allowed to let anyone see my face…”

“Well, I’m blind, so I won’t be able to see it anyway. If you’re more comfortable with it on, that’s fine.”

Seven reached a hand up, and for a moment Viv thought that she would get to see the face under the mask, but all she removed was her mouthpiece. Her lips were chapped and dry, and the surrounding skin was discoloured with fading bruises. Her bottom lip looked like it had been split recently. She and Steve shared a look. Clearly, he was thinking similar thoughts.

If Seven never took her helmet off when she was out, where had she taken those hits?

Viv tried to ignore it. That wasn’t important right now. She knelt down at Seven’s side, examining her abdomen.

“We’re gonna have to remove your chestplate to get a good look, Seven,” she explained. “Don’t worry, help is on the way. We’re just gonna make sure you’re as well as you can be until they get here.”

“Latches ‘re under the armpits,” Seven replied, slurring slightly. Without the electronics in the mask obscuring it, her voice was soft. It had a rough sort of cadence that reminded Viv a little bit of Rosie, only without the hispanic accent.

Viv followed her instructions, finding the latches and pulling the chestplate off. If the state of what little she could see of Seven’s face had shocked her, then she definitely wasn’t prepared for the state of her bare torso. She sucked in a breath, and heard her uncle curse quietly.

Below her armour, Seven was wearing nothing but a sports bra, leaving very little to the imagination and filling Vivienne with some very conflicted emotions. On one hand, Seven was fucking sculpted. She looked like a goddamn greek statue, and the sight of those sweaty planes of muscled, tanned skin were leaving Viv a little breathless. On the other hand, it looked like someone had used her abdomen as a punching bag, leaving a tapestry of colourful bruising across every inch of aforementioned skin. What was even more concerning than that, however, were the two sloppily stitched-up cuts intersecting each other on the upper-left side of her belly. They were too clean to be anything other than intentionally made, and clearly the patch-up was far from a professional job. Vivienne didn’t know what to think about any of this, but it was giving her a distinctly bad feeling.

She pushed all of those thoughts down. Now wasn’t the time. Seven was her patient, and right now all that mattered was finding and assessing the damage from the bullet she was presumably shot with. Thankfully, it wasn’t hard to find at all. A large patch of blood had saturated the cotton of her bra right above her sternum, surrounding a very obvious hole.

The fact that she was still conscious and alive meant that the bullet had most likely been slowed down enough by her armour to be stopped by her sternum, but Viv doubted that the bone remained entirely intact in the process. It was a marvel that she was still able to move about in the way she had. Either Seven was very used to pain, or she was still bursting at the seams with adrenaline. Based on the state of her body, it was probably a mix of both. The only certainty was that she needed a hospital. Until professionals arrived, Viv and Brea would just have to do their best for her.

Step one was to find the bullet. If it was deeply embedded in the bone, there wouldn’t be anything they could do for her now aside from slowing the bleeding, but they might be able to remove it themselves if it just impacted the surface. There weren’t any major blood vessels in that area, so they could probably do most of the patch-up work on site.

“Brea, can you check how deep the bullet is?” Viv asked.

Brianna nodded, moving her hand closer to Seven’s chest. Two of her fingers disappeared, turning into thin wisps of smoke that then drifted daintily down onto Seven’s body. The smoke wafted around searchingly until it found the hole, sinking into it and examining the interior painlessly.

“It seems like it’s just below the surface of her skin. Doesn’t feel like it’s fragmented or anything. We shouldn’t have any problems removing it here.”

“Cool,” Viv replied, pulling on some gloves from the first-aid kit and searching for a pair of tweezers.

“Don’t worry,” Seven muttered. “I’ve got it.”

Vivienne was about to protest when blackness began to seep across Seven’s skin from the shadowed edges of her armour. It travelled like a liquid, remaining flush with her body as it slipped under her bra and amassed in the bullet hole. Seven tensed up, balling her fists and clenching her teeth, clearly trying to power through the pain of whatever she was doing. Viv was a little too distracted by the mouth-watering sight of her tensed abs to question it. After a few seconds, Seven relaxed, her body deflating with a sigh as a flattened, gore-covered bullet rose from the hole, lifted by a pillar of shadow, before being discarded and rolling away down the side of her chest, leaving a trail of red on the cotton in its wake.

Viv blinked. “Where the hell did you learn how to do that?”

“‘s not the first time I’ve had to pull shrapnel out of myself,” Seven replied.

Well then. Just another thing to file away under the ‘weird and concerning things about this new superhero’ tab in her brain.

Vivienne took a second to get her brain back in order. This next part was important.

“Alright, well… Are you okay with me lifting your bra so we can patch up the wound?”

Seven waved a hand that flopped limply back to the ground. That wasn’t a great sign. “Go right ahead.”

Viv took a breath and ripped the metaphorical band-aid off, lifting the garment and looking only at the bloody wound on her chest, refusing to let her eyes drift anywhere else. Time to do her thing.

“I know I said we’d do our best for you here, but you should really go to a hospital just to be safe. The risk of infection here is pretty high,” Vivienne explained as she gently rubbed the wound down with an iodine wipe. Brea kept hold of Seven’s hand, whispering comforting nothings to her to distract her focus away from the pain Viv was no-doubt causing.

Seven shook her head. “N… No hospital. Not allowed.”

Oh boy. It just got worse and worse with this one, didn’t it?

“Do you at least have some sort of medical facility you can go to?”

Seven nodded, so at least that was one less thing for Vivienne to lose sleep about. She pulled out a bandage and placed it over the wound, deciding it was safer not to stitch it up here in case she missed anything that the actual doctors would need access to treat. With that done, she pulled Seven’s bra back down into its place.

“Well, that’s about all I can do for that right now. Is there anything else I can help you with?” Viv asked.

Seven let out what was probably supposed to be a considering hum, but it ended up sounding more like a groan. “Mm, I dunno… Thanks for your help, though. You guys’re nice. And you’re really pretty, too.”

Brianna barked out a laugh as Viv’s insides got caught in a vice. “O-oh. Um, thank you.” She could feel her face burning with an obvious blush. Stupid redhead genes. 

“What about me?” Brea asked, smirking.

“Yah, I meant you, too,” Seven clarified. Her voice was slurring a lot now. “I really like your… your face. ‘s nice.”

Brea was trying to act cool, but Viv could still see her dark complexion deepening from the blush on her cheeks, too. 

Steve - who had walked away once Viv removed Seven’s bra for the sake of her modesty - made his way back over to them. “Seven, do you have a concussion? You’ve been acting a little strange.”

“Oh, uh… Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

Viv groaned. “Of course you do. How do you even know?”

“My visor can check for it… That bullet hit me in the head pretty hard, so the first thing I did was get it to check.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?!” Steve asked.

“A lil’ bump‘s no reason to stop working.”

“We should take your helmet off to check. It might be pretty serious,” Viv said.

Seven shook her head again. “Not allowed.”

“Seven, I’m not kidding! You could be in real danger and we’ve had no idea this whole time!”

Steve sighed. “It’s fine, Vivienne. You’ve done good. Her medical team will take care of the rest. Speaking of which…” he trailed off, glancing over the edge of the building. “Looks like the cavalry’s here.”

Everything moved quickly from thereon. A group of people ascended up the fire escape with a stretcher and carefully laid Seven out on top of it. They were about to make the painstaking journey down when Viv just offered to teleport them. It would be dangerous taking her down the fire escape, and the quicker Seven got some proper medical attention for her head, the better. It wasn’t long before she was bundled into the armoured van and driven away to wherever her supposed ‘medical centre’ was, leaving Vivienne, Brianna, and Steve alone on the roof.

“Yeesh,” Brianna said, breaking the silence that had fallen over them. “That girl has issues.”

Steve shook his head. “Everything about her is just… giving me a bad feeling.”

“I’ll say,” Viv replied. “Did you see the state of her torso? Those bruises were awful! Not to mention the cuts…”

“I’d suspected something like that. The way she’s been moving recently, it was obvious that she was in pain. And I’d bet good money that Andreas de Vygon had something to do with it. He practically has her on a leash.”

The name made Vivienne’s blood boil. That man was truly scum. He’d tormented the Union for years, harassing and slandering her and her friends. Why any superhero would choose to join him was beyond her. That being said, the more she learned about the mysterious woman, the more it seemed like it might not have been a choice after all. 

“There’s gotta be something we can do, right?” Brea asked, voicing Viv’s thoughts. “If de Vygon’s mistreating her, surely there’s someone we can tell about it to get her out of his hands?”

“He would just cover it up,” Steve said. He let out a breath, rubbing his face with weary exhaustion. “Look, the only thing I know for sure is that that woman is strong enough to take down the entire precinct if she wanted. If she had a problem with how she was being treated, she could get herself out of it. De Vygon might have influence, but he’s just a normal man when it comes to power. Seven could easily kill him if he angered her. We’re probably just looking too much into it. Those injuries could easily just be from combat training or something.”

Vivienne sighed, looking out over the city in the direction Seven’s medical team had left in. “I hope you’re right, uncle. I really, really do.”

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@iamheretohurt @anoyedartist @dontyoubleedoutonme @seastarblue

Even in the midst of a concussion and a broken sternum, Jordyn can't help but be a hopeless lesbian

Viv didn't really get as much introspection into her character as I would've liked but that's just because she was so focused on Jordyn that there was no time for that. Chapter was ballooning a lot as is. I'm sure she'll get more later :)

Thanks for reading. Let me know what you thought! Comments and reblogs very appreciated :)