#and fire came too (they like to feel useful) and a police traffic officer came to get statements and stuff

[blunderpuff]

an old lady came in today, followed by a frantic and hovering younger woman

Old Lady (to my coworker): “Can you see about a book I had placed on reserve?”

Younger Woman (to OL): “Ma’am, are you sure you’re alright?”

OL (to coworker): “I think it was in last week, but I didn’t get a phone call...”

YW (to OL): “I have my insurance card in my truck, are you sure you’re okay?”

OL (to coworker): “Oh, do you have a paper towel? I’ve gotten mud on your counter... I just got hit by a car.”

Me and my coworker, who had been trying to parse this relationship: “?!?!?!?!?!!?”

The Younger Woman had side-swiped the Older Lady in the parking lot and knocked her down, and the Older Lady’s priority was literally the book she put on hold. O_O

[vivianne-is-tired]

Y'all, Brucie Wayne is a scam.

So I saw this post (Credit to @frownyalfred) and it got me thinking about this oc(?) ig that stumbles upon Bruce hiding from people in an office, cracking down on files he now has access to for a case?(the reason he came to this gala in the first place)

Then the oc(who works for the host of the gala and is the head secretary) comes in to grab something for their boss, only to find Bruce Wayne in all his glory, sitting at their bosses desk sifting through confidential files like he owns the place. He doesn't for once, the one oc worked under is one of the businesses that aren't under his empire.

(He wouldn't be caught in the first place but let's say he was found) Now, this could go either of two ways, but before oc can react, Bruce pulls a Brucie Wayne and somehow manages to diffuse the situation ahead of time so oc is relaxed albeit very concerned at the "drunk mess" crying on their bosses office desk(the more convincing the act, the better).

You might think this might be the end of it, but no. This just keeps happening. Too. Many. Times. Bruce needs more evidence to make a solid case and a breakthrough, and oc can't really ask why. Not in their business nor pay grade.

It gets to the point where oc now anticipates the visits and prepares for them(partially because they now figured/guessed their boss is probably selling part of their shares?or equity?). Are they meeting up to discuss and aren't dotting it down in the schedule? probably. It's not like oc will ask, they don't want to get fired.

They don't know why Bruce Wayne out of all people is collecting files every time he visits, they can only guess because they're too afraid to ask.

One day, the news break that their company's sales just nosedived out of nowhere due to involvement with a criminal organization and everyone is in disarray. oc takes eons to get to the office(partially because it was supposed to be their day off) because of traffic due to the news stations trying to squeeze information out of the employees and any passerby, and New Jersey traffic overall.

oc tries their best to avoid press and enter the building. They manage, and it's a mess. Papers everywhere, people taking multiple phone calls, yelling. Just multitudes of chaos that came out of nowhere.

Oc can only guess what the problem is. So they head up the elevators not being used, people too busy on their own floors trying to control whatever the damage is to worry about taking the elevators, and oc arrives at their bosses floor.

It's even worse than they thought. There's yelling, screaming of frustrations, and in the midst of it are cops. oc can tell they're cops. They're manhandling their boss towards them with some difficulty, met with resistance and their badges shine against the lumen fluorescent light.

oc's boss is screaming at them but they can't hear, because they just realized something. Their boss was actually involved(they were giving them the benefit of the doubt, foolishly).

Hours later, oc crashes on their apartment couch in exhaustion.

With their boss in police custody and investigations opened, interrogation and basic harassment from the press, they make it back home with barely held tears of frustration. They should've just quit when they had the chance.

Now they were needed at the court case to be held a week from now. Having such a high ranking position has never been so unrewarding.

Hoping for some distraction, oc grabs their remote, stretching and feeling their taut muscles pop in relief. They press the power button as the TV comes to life, the black screen brightens to show the news.

Great, just what oc needed.

Before they could change the channel though, something catches their eye. It's a blurry photo, one that the people of Gotham were familiar with. oc really wasn't but they perk up when a side by side photo of their boss and blurry photo of Batman shows up.

oc turns the volume up, clicking the remote's sound button profusely, uncaring of the loud amplification carrying to their neighbors.

"...our sources state that the Dark Knight got access to secret files with incriminating evidence due to some inside help. It seems the caped crusader put another bad man behind bars yet again. it's such a shame for (boss' name), really, he couldn't keep this under wraps for long without the protector on the case! To think such a repeatable man had such a dark secret. Hm, In other news..."

oc can't even begin to process this. Because again, how did the Knight of Gotham manage to have inside help....oh...oh.

Bruce Wayne. Bruce Wayne had access to the files. Batman had access to the files.

It makes sense. Most of the problems in office arose from the files Wayne overlooked. But, why did Wayne make it so easy for oc to connect the pieces? Why not sneak in and take the files instead? Batman is known for his disappearance act.

oc needs a drink, for once.

[saving-word-crawls]

The Hero's Crawl

By: Living_Valkyrie_Writer

Do you feel loss of motivation, but you need to prep for nano or do some simple outlining fast? Need to edit? Need to WRITE? Well, enjoy the journey of a girl who becomes a hero while also doing some productive work. Use the songs as a backdrop for the story and your work as needed.

Note: The goals will be as follows: 3,000 words, 1 scenes, and 5 pages. If you would like a higher goal, simply multiply the word count or repeat the step again to get a higher goal.

Best of luck!

THE HERO’S CRAWL

DISCOVERY: A young girl plays in the park with her older brother. While her brother tries to flirt with his crush, the girl wanders into a set of bushes. There, she finds a small vial of red in stuck in the dirt. Surprised, she peers at it closely to see it is a red clear liquid with small yellow parasites floating in it. As her friend rushes behind her and frightens her, she accidentally clenches the vial. It bursts and the parasites absorb in her skin. – Write 150 words/ brainstorm a scene idea/ read over two pages of your draft as the girls scramble to pick the glass out of her skin. –Elephant Music - Journey Of Discovery (Epic Inspirational Orchestral Music) - YouTube 1

TRAGEDY The girl says nothing to her brother, who is mad at her for leaving. On their way home on the bus, a mugger threatens the driver. The girl begs her brother to remain still, but he, closest to the front, tries to calm the crook. Instead, the crook fires at him. The police get there too late… –Write 200 words/ come up with a setting and conflict of the scene/ read the last three pages as the girl desperately calls the police with her brother’s phone. –"WHO WILL REMEMBER ME" by Twelve Titans Music • World's Most Emotional Music - YouTube 1

RISING A week passes, and the girl is mourning, unaware of the changes to her body. She begins to sleep more and more, but the doctor tells her mom it’s just from grief. She eventually faints, and when she awakes, she finds her eyes glowing gold as her palm holds a glowing knife. –Write 350 words/ come up with the POV and cast/ list the major changes to the pages –Epic Massive Battle Music - The Fury Within - YouTube

TRAINING The girl visits her friend, and they discover she can create glowing weapons with a single thought. They decide it must have something to do with the contents of the vial. Wanting to catch the killer of her brother who escaped, the girl and her friend exercise her imagination and abilities until she is able to create one weapon she hates the most–a gun. –Write 400 words/ come up with the purpose of the scene and the approximate length/ list the minor changes in the pages as the girl looks up rare weapons on the internet. –21 Savage & Rich Brian - Lazy Susan (Full Epic Trailer Version) - Shang-Chi Soundtrack - YouTube 1

LOVE The girl’s mother begins to worry how she is always locked away in her room and never talks to her anymore. She brings up her concern, and the girl argues with her mother. Later, sorry for her harsh words, she admits to her mother her mission and even her abilities. Surprisingly, her mother, a cop, suggests a better alternative than violence–they use their detective skills to find the crook. –Write 450 words/ outline the opening of the scene/ complete deleting lines that are no longer wanted as the girl’s mother lets the girl and her friend help with the case. – Star Wars Visions: The Village Bride Soundtrack | EPIC CINEMATIC VERSION - YouTube

STRUGGLE The three find dead leads for over three months of devotion. The mother also tries to find out where the vial came from and learns more about the girl’s powers. Eventually, after reviewing a traffic camera, they find old footage of the crook running from the bus. Soon, they find him selling drugs in the city and the mother and her fellow officers bring the brother’s killer to prison. –Write 300 words/ outline the middle of the scene/ flesh out the dialogue as the girl testifies in court and the crook is sentenced to life in prison. –Hans Zimmer "Eclipse" Dune Trailer Music (Full Epic Trailer Version) - YouTube 1

ATTACKED Everything goes well for the girl for a while. She finds solace for her brother’s death and her mother and friend keep her powers a secret but also help her develop them still. But when her mother confronts the owner of the vial, they turn out to be part of an organization that was meant to deliver the vial to the leader, so he could use the powers for himself. The mother is attacked and kept as hostage. –Write 200/ outline the ending of the scene/ add description to vaguely written parts as the mother interrogates the owner of the vial. –"BURNING FIREFLAKES" by Monika Tris • World's Most Dramatic Music - YouTube

REVEALED The girl is at school when federal agents arrive and force her to come along with them. They reveal what has happened to her mother and the ransom fee–herself for her mother. The girl has no choice but to admit her already known powers, and the feds are there to protect her but also anyone from her. In the restroom, the girl manages to converse with her friend over the communicator her mother gave her. Her friend is worried, but rushes to the internet where she gives the girl all the info she can find on her mother’s kidnapper. –Write 300 words/ add any dialogue notes and foreshadowing details/ finish fixing last minute changes to the pages as the friend types quickly on the library computer while trying not to be caught by the teacher. –Mitchell Broom x Julie Seechuk - Not Alone - YouTube

RUNNING The girl and the agents make it to the place to meet the kidnapper, planning to use her powers to get her mother. It goes well, but she and the agents are caught off guard when several hundred members of the organization flood the premises. The girl is unable to hold them all off, but she tricks the leader into handing over her mother, holding up a vial filled three fourths of the way with red liquid. She says imagine what he could do with most of the liquid when she’s only had “a fourth” of it. The leader frees the mother and the girl tosses him the vial as the agents scurry out. As the leader of the organization sees that the liquid lacks the golden creatures, he orders his people to shoot but the girl creates a shield of defense around herself and the others. –Writer 400 words/ add any changes to the scene outline/ fix any typos in the edited pages. –UNSECRET Ft. Ruelle - Revolution (Almost Official Instrumental) - YouTube

EMBRACE In the end, the girl, her mother, and her friend are reunited and safe. The organization is taken down, but the girl wonders what other weapons they had… She is allowed to live a normal life, though the agents do check in on her many times. But she knows many ways to evade them and trains more and more to be sure no one will ever threaten her loved ones again. –Write 200 words/ read through the scene outline to make sure it’s done/ read through the pages and be sure all editing is complete as the girl hugs her mom tight as they observe her brother’s grave. –Most Beautiful Music: "Guide My Way" — @AdiGoldsteinComposer - YouTube

Congrats! You’ve made it to the end. If you enjoyed the story, let me know. I know it’s not the best, but hey, it was just something I enjoyed making. If you triumphed or failed with the sprint, feel free to tell as well. And if you have any changes or something you would like to see, please let me know! (Sorry if the story was too long or too wordy.)

[branded-witha-j]

This request started one way and then took a whole other turn that I'm going to blame on the pain meds they gave me. I hope you enjoy it, anon reader. 😘💚💚💚

♤♡◇♧☆

Something went horribly wrong. It wasn't expected and no one saw it coming despite weeks of planning. The coppers showed up as expected, but something fell through when someone didn't do their job. A post that should have been manned was left wide open and that's how the GCPD got the upperhand.

You were there, holding your own, the armored truck on its side and smoking. The bags you helped carry were heavy and you were distracted, not noticing the officer until he had you restrained. They didn't make a fuss, pulling you away from the scene as discreetly as possible, but it didn't take J long to notice your absence.

He wheeled in place, scanning the street, and that's when he saw them dragging you away, his rage palpable. They thought you were a hostage, surely a nice, rich girl like you forced to commit such heinous crimes. They had no idea that you were important to The Joker or that you were madly in love with your so-called captor.

You fought and clawed to get back to him, but the cops threw you into a police van, the back empty except for you. Now that they had you in their custody, they intended to get you away from the scene, your father waiting for the phone call that you were safe.

You were a Daddy's girl, growing up privileged and rich. Things were planned out for you, your father the puppeteer. It didn't take long for you to tire of his control, a new Daddy altogether pulling your attention and keeping you captivated.

The Joker was just as rich, but dangerous and unpredictable. The night you met him at the annual Gotham Gala was the best of your life and you never looked back.

The van shifted as it pulled away from the curb, a single police car following while the others stayed behind to deal with and round up J and his crew. At least that was their plan. But the cops would fair no better, The Joker's men creating such a scene that J managed to slip away in your pursuit.

He wasn't alone, a handful of goons tagging along, and they were the ones to open fire. The tailing cruiser caught the first wave of bullets, the back tires popping and sending it into an uncontrollable spin. A row of parked cars cushioned the wreck, but the car was inoperable and left behind as the van tried to race for the station.

You were in the back, unable to hang on as a curve was taken too fast, crying out as you were thrown against the bare, metal wall. You found yourself on the floor, clutching for the bench leg that was bolted down, using it to pull yourself under for coverage as bullets ricocheted outside. You could hear shouting from the front, returning fire sounding close and making you scream as a bullet tore through the metal above you.

You rolled yourself into a ball and braced, not seeing the collision coming, but safe as the van slammed to a stop. It was no longer moving, but the shouting continued, eventually two single gun shots marking the silence.

Nothing happened, the van whining as someone cranked the engine and finally got it to start. You stayed under the bench shaking, beams of light shining through the bullet holes as the van started to move again. Even as the ride continued on for what felt like an eternity, you stayed on the floor unable to move out of some fear that The Joker had been hurt, or even worse, killed.

Eventually the van came to a stop and you held your breath, hearing the front door open, and approaching footsteps. They crunched in what sounded like gravel and stopped at the back doors. Then there was unnerving silence. You continued to hold your breath, eyes closing as the screech of metal unlocked the doors and light flooded over you. It took you a moment to open your eyes, the sunlight blotting out the figure that peered inside. You blinked, trying to clear your vision, and a hand at your ankle made you lash out. You kicked hard, snarling in anger as they avoided your booted defense and dragged you closer.

Hands groped at you, pulling you upright, and that's when you were finally able to focus. The Joker leaned over you, a gash at his forehead sending a steady stream of blood down the side of his chiseled cheek. He was bleeding, but seemed unharmed and very much alive. With a gasp, you clutched for him, anchoring your hands at his face and kissing him hard.

His metal teeth hurt against your own, but you didn't care, deepening it until you felt certain you could drown. He was the one to break the kiss, eyes darting and taking inventory. You were unharmed, maybe a little bruised, but not hurt. The relief made him purr and he pushed forward, kneeling at the metal floor and hovering over you.

You let him lay you back and didn't protest as his hands slid over your body, making sure you weren't damaged or in pain. As his exploration continued, you reached for him, pulling him on top of you, your arms and legs trapping him. He grimaced, a single droplet of blood falling on your cheek, and you couldn't stop yourself from kissing him. He tasted like blood and gunpowder and you savored it.

In the distance, you could hear approaching sirens, your moment ending almost as quickly as it had started. Surely the van could be tracked and they would be here soon, both of your hearts racing as you fled the scene. You took back alleyways, hiding in the shadows, ducking into dark doorways as police cruisers rolled past.

It was in one of these doors that J cornered you, smiling in his mischievous way. You smiled back, head tilting as he leaned in for a kiss. It was slow and deep, ending with a purr.

"Are you my girl?" You nodded to his question, feeling his hands on you, fingertips digging into your hips. You let out a gasp of surprise as he slid a hand over, cupping you and pushing you harder against the door. It creaked with your weight but held as J frantically pulled at the waistband of your leggings. You joined in, flipping his belt loose, and popping the button to pull down his zipper.

A single slam against the door made you both groan, The Joker not stopping until he was buried deep. He burned and stretched you in the most delicious way, his face burying at your neck. Another thrust of his hips made you cry out, the sound echoing around the alley and building as his movement grew frantic.

Voices yelled out nearby, causing you to tense, and a shift of your hips sent you over a dangerous edge. Your cries of pleasure bounced off the walls, dissolving into the air and mixing with the sounds of the city. The Joker had reached his end, as well, and held you in place, nuzzling at your neck until he left a purple mark with his mouth.

For a long moment, nothing else existed, the sounds of the city fading away. You relished in his touch and taste, his crimson smeared lips leaving no doubt that you belonged to him. It was a bubble of happiness that you lived in precariously, not ready for it to pop so soon.

But pop it did, and you were both on the run again, dragging your pants up with laughs and tripping away. The cop that discovered you was close, but not enough to catch you, both of you sliding out onto the crowded sidewalk, people rushing out of your way as you ran.

You felt like Bonnie and The Joker was your Clyde, hands joining as you ran, more fits of laughter falling from your lips as you veered off the sidewalk and into traffic to avoid another cop.

You didn't see it coming, so lost in your delirious happiness that the delivery truck went unnoticed. Brakes squealed as the large vehicle tried to stop, but too much weight and speed kept it coming in your direction, both of you freezing on the spot.

There was a second where you realized you were about to die, turning towards J, but feeling yourself lifted and flung in the opposite direction. You waited for the pain, but it didn't come, instead air whipping past and making your hair swirl. And then your ride was abruptly over, Batman releasing you on the far sidewalk.

Stunned to see him this close up, it took a moment for you to wheel back in search of The Joker, horror making you cry out at his still form on the road. You pulled and screamed, tearing yourself away from your savior to run to your lover.

No one tried to stop you, everyone frozen and watching as you collapsed by his side, hands shaking and touching him. You were frantic, pulling at him, screaming his name, but getting no response. He was gone, his body broken and bleeding before you like a living nightmare.

You tried to revive him, performing CPR, pushing and thumping at his chest until Batman pulled you away. His arms locked around you like a vice and carried you from the horrible scene, your pleas falling on deaf ears.

Your eyes pinched shut, your cries turning into begging, everything fading until you jolted awake in a cell you couldn't remember. The pressure around you that had once been Batman's arms was a straitjacket keeping you secure. It was an embrace you could never escape, eyes heavy and sweeping the empty, dim room.

Who knows how long you had been here, time meaning nothing. Who knows if anything was real, the pain in your heart the only reminder that something had been taken from you.

The ground vibrated but you barely noticed it, the extinguished lights above you swaying and sending dust down upon you. Your neck was stiff as you slowly looked up, the hanging light swaying back and forth. Another much harder vibration caused it to pick up momentum and you were mesmerized by it, not hearing the screams in the hallway.

A fresh explosion buckled the door, leaving a gaping hole filled with smoke. You stared at it, unable to move even if you felt the desire, a single figure stepping through as a floating silhouette. They crossed the room, kneeling before you, and a tug at the helmet they wore revealed a shock of green hair and icy blue eyes.

He smiled at you, your own lips twitching and pulling until the corners lifted and mirrored him. His laugh came next, eerie and almost mournful, but your own joining in until it was deafening and terrifying to all that could hear it.

Again you felt yourself lifted, this time in the arms you wanted more than anything, The Joker carrying you from the cell and into the fiery hallway. Bodies lay before you, framing your escape route, and J didn't let you go until he reached the getaway vehicle, slowly placing you in the backseat. Leaning down, his lips ghosted over yours, a new scar across his cheek catching your eye. His kiss was brief, a peck at your lips, and then he spoke the words you had been dying to hear for so long.

"Let's go home."

[waitimcomingtoo]

In Case You Don’t Live Forever

~chapter one rewritten~

Pairing: Peter Parker x Venom!Reader

Synopsis: you are Peter’s greatest love and Spider-Man’s greatest enemy

Masterlist and Series Masterlist

“Married?” You squeaked as your eyes grazed over the words on the card a hundred times without retaining any of the information. As you momentarily forgot how to even read, you had to rely on the words coming out of Andy’s mouth.

“Yes, uh, married.” He awkwardly cleared his throat. “Dani and I are getting married over the summer.”

The awkward silence filled the air, suffocating the three of you, but you didn’t care. You were still staring at that damn card. That damn card that said your ex boyfriend was getting married to another girl.

“Married.” You repeated, at a loss for words.

“You said that already, dumbass.” Venom chimed in, telepathically. You rolled your eyes and kicked the bench, signaling to her to quiet down.

“Yeah.” He said again. “I know we’re young, but I’m sure about her. She’s the love of my life.”

“Wow. Good for you.” You faked a smile as you stared at the invitation. “It’s Uh, it’s a lot to take in.”

“I know. That’s why I wanted to tell you in person. I figured it would be better than you randomly getting the card in the mail and finding out that way.” Andy explained.

“Our hero.” Venom snarled, so you pinched your leg to send her the message to be quiet.

“Yeah. Yeah, no, I’m glad you told me.” You lied as your eyes finally processed something on the card.

“You’re getting married on August 10?” You asked, finally tearing your eyes away from the invitation to look at him. He looked good, you had to admit. His curly brown hair was cut shorter than usual and he was still wearing his police uniform.

“Bright and early. I chose that day because-“

“Because it’s your parents anniversary. I know.” You cut him off, a little sharply.

“I’m sorry if this is awkward.” He frowned. “I understand if you’re too hurt to come.”

“It’s fine. We were together and now we’re not. Besides, I’m really happy for you and Dani. She really helped me get back on my feet when Venom and I first bonded. I like her. And if you want to marry her on that day, then go ahead.” You said, and you meant it. You did like Dani. You’d like her more if she wasnt dating the love of your life, but hey, nobody’s perfect.

“You’re lying. We want him back. He looks so juicy and delicious.” Venom said. You choked on your saliva for a moment at her words and Andy was quick to pat your back.

“You alright?” He asked. You nodded and made a mental note to have a domestic conversation about boundaries with Venom when you got home.

“I’m fine. And anyways, I’ve uh, I’ve moved on.” You lied, adverting your eyes so he wouldn’t catch on.

“What? No we haven’t?” Venom didn’t grasp the social cue.

“You have?” Andy asked, seemingly taken aback.

“No! We love you!” Venom growled in your head.

“Yep. I’m in a deeply committed and loving relationship.” You nodded as you looked anywhere but at him. It wasn’t a total lie. You were technically in a relationship with Venom, though be it a host/parasite kinda deal.

“What’s he like?” Andy wondered, looking pissed off all the sudden.

“They’re great. They’re, uh…tall. Super, super tall.” You began to describe Venom. So far, it was all true. Venom was 7’6 in her final form.

“They’re black, like yourself, and they’ve got this big, beautiful smile.” You could feel yourself cringing internally as you painted the picture for him.

“You think our smile is beautiful?” Venom teased you.

“And they just always have my back. They’re my ride or die, you know? If I didn’t have them, I’d be dead. Literally.” You finished. Also true. If you and Venom ever got separated, you would both die. Andy was looking off into the distance, sucking his teeth before nodding again.

“That’s nice.” He said, but his tone didn’t sound like he thought it was nice.

“I’d literally die.” You repeated to fill the awkward silence.

“I get it.” He deadpanned.

“Like, I’d freaking perish.”

“Alright.” He held up his hands and you stopped.

“So, do you think you can come?” He brought the conversation back to him, something he was good at.

Of course you could come. What else would you be doing? But you were just getting back on my feet after losing your job and a wedding might be too much too soon. You were at rock bottom before you found Venom. Well, before you found each other. That was nearly a year ago, but that day came back in flashes every now and then...

“You’re seriously breaking up with me? Over a job?” You asked as you followed Andy out of the police station. You were under the impression that he had just been fired because of the files you took from his computer. Classified files on local businessman Carlton Drake and the people he had killed with his experiments, of course.

“Yeah, I am.” He snapped. “I’m done with you.”

“Can’t we talk about this?” You pleaded as you followed him down the street.

“Okay.” He stopped, looking angry. “Do you want to talk about how you embarrassed me in front of my precinct? I just got yelled at in front of my all my coworkers because of you and your greed. You used me for your stupid show.”

“I wasn’t being greedy.” You insisted, ignoring that he called your job stupid. “You had the information on Carlton Drake and I needed it to make an accusation. He’s killing people! He’s a bad guy, Andy. And I write about and report bad men. That’s my job. I didn’t know that looking at your files would get you fired.”

Andy put his hands on his hips and looked around, suddenly sheepish.

“I wasn’t fired.” He mumbled.

“What?” You switched from upset to confused. “Then why are you angry?”

“I was demoted to traffic duty for two weeks because of you.” He pointed an angry finger at you and you almost laughed.

“I’m sorry, wait.” You compared yourself. “You’re breaking up with me after two years together because I got you demoted to traffic duty? Are you serious?”

“Do you know how embarrassing it is to wear that orange vest? It’s humiliating.” Andy shouted and you covered your mouth to keep from laughing. “Everyone in the neighborhood knows me and now they’re gonna know I’m on traffic duty.”

“People know you?” Your eyes widened at how dense he was being. “Andy, I’m a local celebrity. I had a whole show on YouTube that I was just fired from. Actually fired. You’re just a police officer who was demoted.”

“To traffic duty.” He repeated, as if it was suddenly worse.

“I know!” You snapped before calming down. “Are we really over? Just because of one mistake?”

“You used me.” He shrugged. “I can’t trust you.”

You stared at him as he walked over to you, never breaking eye contact as he took his key off your key ring.

“We’re over.” He hissed before turning around and walking away.

“Y/N?” Andy waved a hand in front of your face, snapping you out of it.

“Oh, right sorry. Um…” You trailed off as you mulled it over. You were happy for him, but you weren’t ready to see him marry someone else. That was gonna be you guys. Of course you wanted to be at his wedding, but you wanted to be the bride.

“Actually, I cant.” You blurted, quickly thinking of a lie. “The Daily Bugle called me and offered me a job in New York. They want me to cover a story on some serial killer. I was gonna move there part time until the story is done. I’m leaving in a few weeks.”

It was partially true. The Daily Bugle did reach out to ask you to write the story, but you had planned to write it at home. News of Andy’s impending marriage was enough to drive you out of the state.

“Oh really?” Andy raised an eyebrow. “Wow.”

He was never one to celebrate you, even when you were together, but his reaction seemed different now. He almost seemed surprised that you were still successful without him.

“Yea. I just finalized everything this morning.” You lied again as you wondered how you’d get a NYC apartment on such short notice. “But hey, maybe I’ll finish early and make it back in time for your big day. I mean, it’s only April. I have lots of time. How many people could this guy possible kill until August?” You joked, but Andy didn’t laugh. He never really got your sense of humor.

“That’s great Y/N.” He nodded, not much enthusiasm behind it. “Things are really turning around for you. I can’t believe you found a job and a boyfriend. I didn’t think it would happen.”

You narrowed your eyes at his condescending comment but decided to brush it off.

“Well, it did. I’m on to bigger and better things.” You cut into him a little as you stood up. “I better go. I told my partner I’d meet them for lunch. Bye!”

“Bye!” Andy called after you, still in a funk from what you told him.

You practically ran home and slid down your door once you got inside.

“Holy shit. I’m such a liar.” You grimaced and covered my face with my hands. Venom manifested herself in her snake-like form and looked at you.

“You’re not a liar if we move to New York and start dating.” She said, making you laugh.

“You have a point. In that case, will you be my girlfriend, Miss Venom?” You asked sarcastically and Venom grinned.

“You’re not really my type, but I’m willing to settle.” Venom matched your sarcasm.

“Then let’s make moving plans, baby.” You sighed. “We’re going to New York.”

[psychovigilantewrites]

Chapter 14 - A Different Point of View

Summary:  Things that happened that you weren't aware of.

Word count: 9,163 words

A/N: Thank you for being so patient with me. I struggled with this chapter due to its nature. I had to further dive into Bruce and Dick's character that I wasn't too familiar with.2020 was a very tough year for me. I lost lots, learned lots. And I thought that the quarantine would mean I would write more. But I was wrong. Life hit me hard, and I stopped doing a lot of things I used to enjoy.Despite being virtually absent last year, you guys stuck by me anyway. Thank you. I love you all for that.Special thanks to my two beta readers. You know who you are. Here it goes.

(i recommend you guys read previous chapters to refresh coz I had to lol)

Ao3

Masterlist

The roles that people played were false- a mere necessity for their career or survival. Everyone was playing a role, whether it was of their own accord or not.

Bruce Wayne was a role- superficial, fake, yet vital to Gotham. Batman, on the other hand, was a completely different role, born out of exigence and a sense of justice.

Dick Grayson, however, genuinely enjoyed playing his role.

Nightwing felt right to him. Being a police officer felt right to him. And especially, if not ultimately, being an older brother.

He listened to the dial tone of his phone, which rung for a few seconds before you finally picked up.

“Hey,” Dick heard your voice, the usual chirp absent that day.

Dick frowned to himself. Bruce was right about you being troubled after all.

“Hey, sis!” he forced the concern out of his voice. “You busy?”

“Nah, I’m just going over some old case files. What’s up?”

Dick leaned back into his sofa. Aside from the traffic blaring outside, the silence in his apartment made it easier for him to concentrate on analysing your speech patterns.

“Can’t I call just to ask how you’re doing?” he teased, easing into the conversation.

Everyone had always told him how he was natural at talking.

“You already called last week…”

Dick smiled to himself. He could already picture your narrowed eyes regarding him with suspicion.

It was good that you were always on your feet, but it was becoming borderline unhealthy. It reminded him of Jason and how he was always so guarded .

He pushed the memory away.

“I can’t call you again?” he rolled his eyes at no one.

“Bruce put you up to this,” you accused.

That’s because he’s worried about you, kid.

If only you knew how much Bruce had changed for you. Dick was glad that you were being loved by Bruce, yet he still couldn't help but feel slightly bitter that he never got that kind of treatment from his father- not the same treatment he gave you.

But he would rather die than admit his selfish thoughts to anyone.

“Yeah,” he conceded, “He was worried about you after last night.”

“I’m fine, Dick,” you insisted.

How many times has he heard those very same words from Jason?

“Well, if you’re not, then you can talk to me,” he offered.

A short pause.

Your response would be what differentiated you from his late brother.

“Actually, yeah,” you admitted.

There it was. No matter how stupid he knew it was for even comparing the two of you, he found that he always had to remind himself not to.

“How did you deal with it? Did it affect you?”

Dick told you his own experience with gore and dead bodies, how he overcame it, how he coped. There was silence after, and he just somehow knew what you were going to ask next.

“How did, uh, he deal with it?”

Your voice came in a whisper, hesitation evidently clear.

Dick was expecting it, but his heart still sank. He knew how everyone acted when Jason was brought up in conversation- he was guilty of reacting as well. He also knew how you were smart enough to avoid that topic.

It had been years. They should all have moved on, because Dick knew that they were also hurting you.

“He came to me as well.” Dick recalled Jason’s hesitant voice over the phone, never directly saying what was wrong, just rambling about things other than what was really going on in his head.

“Then he gradually called less and less when he learned how to deal with it himself.”

The day Dick noticed it, he was happy for Jason, but a small part of him was saddened that his little brother no longer needed him.

“I’ll have to look for that cognitive therapy, then. Thank you for calling, Dick. Talking to you helped.”

Did it really? He noticed your voice had changed again. Maybe he shouldn’t have gone on about Jason like that.

“No problem, kid. Call me if you need to talk, okay?”

The familiar beep left him isolated with his thoughts, wondering if you would trail in Jason's footsteps.

When will the day come when you eventually stop calling altogether?

***

He felt indebted to his city- the city he loved. The city he hated. The city that robbed him of his childhood.

He felt indebted to his family- the family he would give up everything for, the family he couldn’t stop hurting.

And he was sorry. God, he was sorry.

Sorry for everything he’s said and done- or didn’t do. But he still couldn’t stop. Because he didn’t know how.

Yet, no matter how much he claimed to love his family, the problem with Bruce Wayne was that he always expected them to be the people he wanted them to be.

Never like himself, though. No, he would never want them to turn out like him.

“That’s an order. Stay-”

The silence that followed the click in his ear represented the first time you had ever disobeyed a direct order.

It was a little late on your side. Dick and Jason had begun to disobey him within their first six months in uniform. But you had always been obedient- which made it easier for Bruce to trust you in the field.

This first time came as an unexpected and unwelcome surprise. And Bruce was…

Disappointed.

He grit his teeth when he saw you on the ground with the warehouse burning behind you. If he had just been a few seconds late, would you be in the fire, too?

“I almost had him.”

Bruce didn’t miss the wince of pain as you got up to your feet.

He had heard those exact words before countless times from J- no.

Bruce shoved that thought away.

“He would have gotten away, and we wouldn’t have known who it was that did this,” you argued, brows drawn together in a frown, mouth downturned. Your respiratory rate was high, and you were having trouble breathing.

When did you grow so tall? So confident?

Bruce silently pointed to the active security camera he noticed the minute he arrived and saw your expression fall- only for a second.

“I still think I made the right decision,” you insisted.

“You disobeyed a direct order.” He hated his own voice. The way he spoke sounded too militant.

“I acted how I saw fit,” you continued, “You always say to follow my instincts-”

“Not if your instincts contradict my orders.” He regretted his words the moment they left his mouth. He thought he had changed. But no, Bruce was still a dictator.

“Wow. Just- wow.”

He could see the little twitches of annoyance within the disbelief on your face. He understood it completely.

You were walking away, clutching onto your side and weakly limping to your bike, adamant on not seeking his help.

He hated seeing you injured, in pain. It was his fault. If only he was faster, he could have stopped Red Hood from beating you up. If only he predicted it sooner, if only-

“I’ll be heading back now.”

He missed what you had said before that.

“Robin,” Bruce forced out, “Have Alfred check your injuries.”

He should have been there.

When you drove away, he lingered at the crime scene.

Bruce flipped a switch in his helmet, and his lense changed. Non-organic material lighted up bright white. He noticed a fractured piece of shrapnel lying on the ground, less than a centimeter long.

He picked it up and placed it into a test tube from his belt. Switching his view to normal, he saw that it was red, maybe made from fiberglass. He could only deduce that it was a piece of Red Hood’s helmet.

Despite Bruce’s frustrations at you for disobeying him, he felt a swell of pride. You probably landed a hit hard enough to crack the helmet just a little bit that you yourself probably didn’t even realise it.

He shone a UV light on it. A small portion of it glowed.

Bruce had always been numb when he played investigator so that he would remain impartial and objective. That was true justice.

But when he pocketed the evidence and sped to the Batmobile, he felt something he had never felt before.

Against all logic and rationality, he found himself dreading to uncover who the blood belonged to.

***

Bruce never drank his sorrows away. It was dangerous, too easy to develop an addiction to. He could have easily drowned in alcohol at any given chance, like when he thought of his parents, or when he thought-no, knew- he wasn’t enough.

But no, he only restricted his drinking for leisurely activities. He was disciplined. It was the reason why he was who he was.

However, in that moment, staring at the results of the DNA analysis after hours of anxious waiting, he wished he allowed himself a drink.

Not because he was distraught, not because he was in grief- but because he just didn’t know what to feel.

It wasn’t numbness. It was just plain confusion, an internal tornado of emotions whirling inside him all at once.

Footsteps.

He tapped on a button once, immediately closing the window of the test results displayed on the screen.

Composing himself, he clicked on another pending case to pretend he wasn’t on the verge of a breakdown. It’s just another role.

“Master Bruce.”

Why was he still up at this hour?

“Yes, Alfred,” he turned to meet the butler’s tired eyes- just as tired as his own.

Tired because of him.

Alfred was always up because of him. Because Bruce was a disease, constantly burdening others, dragging them down, keeping them up at night.

“I made some sandwiches. They’re light. Please do eat them,” he set the tray on the cluttered desk, simply pushing aside the numerous stacks of papers.

“Go to bed, Alfred,” he told him. Alfred was too old to be up at this hour. And whose fault is that?

“In due time,” he responded calmly, “What of the blood results, if I may ask?”

“Inconclusive,” Bruce lied.

“I see.”

Suspicion shrouded Alfred’s voice.

“How are her injuries?” Bruce asked, the pain finally creeping in, seeping into his bones.

“I commend you for asking about your daughter’s injuries after only four whole hours of staring at the screen, Master Bruce. You would definitely win father of the year.”

“I was occupied,” he sighed, “Please.”

“Her injuries are only superficial,” Alfred said, “Surface contusions at most.”

He still hurt her.

“Thank you, Alfred. Now go to bed.”

“It was only a little more than two decades ago when I was telling you the same,” he grumbled away.

Bruce made sure Alfred was gone before pulling up the results on the screen again, the glaring ‘MATCH’ sign staring angrily back at him as if it were shouting at Bruce, yelling in rage.

And Bruce understood completely. He had failed Jason Todd. He had betrayed him. And now he was back, vengeful, and full of resentment.

But that didn’t matter to Bruce.

Because despite it all, his son was alive.

In the end, that was all that mattered.

***

What did my son do to my daughter?

Bruce watched in horror as you lay unconscious on the hospital bed, hooked to the IV bag. He couldn’t stop staring at the bruises littering your neck.

Bruises that were far too small and evenly shaped to be the effect of a mere throttling.

He knew how the people close to him viewed him. He knew they thought he was strong, unforgiving, cold, emotionless. Especially when they put him side by side with Clark.

But he forced himself to be those things, because if he didn’t, he would have broken down years ago.

He was used to it. The pain. The darkness.

But this time, he felt like he was being crushed.

He felt like he was hanging on by a thread- no. A delicate strand of thin, brittle hair.

“It’s okay, doctor,” you had said, “I know what you’re going to ask me. No, my genitalia does not hurt. He didn’t do anything to me.”

He felt a wave of relief crash over him.

Jason wasn’t that far gone, then.

But as Bruce looked at your neck again, he still couldn’t help but feel nausea crawling into his core.

He still touched her.

Jim left after his questioning, and you drifted to sleep. He went over to you and looked down at your face, taking everything in.

Since when did you look so mature? When did you get so beautiful?

He couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle. Even in sleep you had your eyebrows tugged down, as if you were angry that you had to go to bed. He didn’t know why he never saw that small part of you that shouted rebellion despite you almost always following his orders.

He realised that when he watched you sleep, you looked a bit like- no. Don’t ever compare the two.

He closed his eyes and pressed his lips to your forehead, trying to convey all of his feelings to you.

He was sorry. So god damned sorry for dragging you into this, for hurting you, for pulling you down to the depths with him.

Hoping you didn’t feel the teardrop that fell to your forehead, he quickly wiped it away before leaving for his press statement.

***

“Master Bruce, please!”

Another crash.

Alfred’s plea snapped him out of his blinding fury, his crushing pain.

He was standing at the hallway near the Manor entrance, glass and broken wood shattered at his feet, feeling the walls closing in and narrowing as Alfred looked at him in alarm.

“I-I’m sorry, Alfred. I-” he stammered, feeling like the small, helpless boy who watched his parents die before him.

He remembered the time when he was little, only a couple of months after the tragedy. He had done the exact same thing, taking out his anger and anguish by destroying things, triggered by something he had long forgotten about.

At that time, Alfred had held him closely in his arms as he stained the butler’s suit with his snot and tears. Again, a burden to the man who raised him.

This time, he refused the old man’s offer of comfort, walking past to descend to the cold darkness of the cave he was so familiar with.

Bruce didn’t usually drink his sorrows away, but this time, he did.

***

Dick wasn’t a good person. He was far from it.

Case in example, it was the first time he saw you after your kidnapping.

He meant to come sooner, he really did. But he was just so busy in Bludhaven, he couldn’t spare any time to rush over the moment he heard his sister was hurt. He tried to justify it in his head by thinking that you were probably handling it fine.

But he was just trying to make himself feel better.

What a great brother he was.

“So, why are you obsessing over violent crimes?” he asked, trying to keep his voice from breaking.

Desensitization was one thing when you worked in that field, but obsession was a whole other problem. And he didn’t want to see his sister walk down that path.

“A lunatic just kidnapped me a couple weeks ago, Dick, maybe this is my coping mechanism,” you huffed, giving him your signature eye roll.

A lot of things start with just a coping mechanism, kid.

Dick knew it about it all too well. The people he brought in on an almost daily basis, high as kites. The accident last week on the highway at three in the morning, two innocent lives taken because of a drunk man who had started drinking three years ago to cope with his mother’s loss.

The man downstairs in the cold cave, who was just a little boy when his parents died, now living with the trauma while going out night after night to beat up criminals, sleeping only three hours a day at most.

“I don’t want your pity, Dick,” you huffed, “I’m fine.”

Yeah, you were. And that was what worried Dick the most.

“I know you are,” he tried to smile, “Which is why I don’t think this is your coping mechanism.”

You talked to Dick about Red Hood, sharing your concerns about him. This is what made you, you. Opening up to him, offering your thoughts and feelings. It was something he never had with Bruce or Jason. The both of them were similar in that sense.

“He won’t tell me either,” Dick huffed, “It’s always been like that with him. No matter how hard I try to get closer to him, sometimes it feels like he’s getting further away.”

It was the same with Jason as well. Did everyone he cared about just end up running away from him?

“I can relate to that,” you sighed.

“But I have a feeling that he will tell you eventually,” Dick tried to comfort you, “It seems too important not to.”

Dick knew better. Bruce had always excluded information from him, whether it was important or not.

“And,” Dick hurriedly tried to change the subject, “I heard from Alfred that you’re not talking to Bruce. May I ask why?”

“So that’s why you’re here,” you eyed him suspiciously. . “I came to check up on you,” he stated, “I’m sorry I couldn’t come here right after, but my little sister did just get kidnapped.”

When are you going to stop putting your guard up around me, kid?

“I told you, I’m fine,” you insisted.

“Then you’re fine enough to tell me why you haven’t been talking to Bruce,” Dick pushed, “I won’t judge. I’ve had my fair share of cold shoulders and fights with him too. I know first hand how frustrating he can be. So come on, tell.”

He saw you hesitate for just a moment, before conceding.

“We fought,” you began, “It was when I got back from the hospital. He wouldn’t tell me who Red Hood was. And he- he called me ‘Jason’.”

Ah, fucking hell, Bruce.

“Jesus,” he whispered, “What did he say exactly?”

“‘Back down, Jason’,” your voice cracked.

Dick saw the way Bruce spiraled after Jason’s death, and he would never tell you this, but deep down he was against Bruce adopting you so soon after. He thought that Bruce was using you to fill up the hole he too felt with Jason’s absence.

You were so like him, yet so different. Still, Bruce must have been really distracted if he could slip as badly as he did.

Dick would ask later.

“Now that’s something I haven’t heard in years,” Dick chuckled humorlessly.

Jason arguing with Bruce about using excessive force. Jason sneaking out to go for patrols whenever he was grounded. Hell, even Jason stealing whiskey from the cabinet at the age of fifteen.

He could still remember it so clearly. Jason with his dark hair poking into his eyes that were full of fury, cheeks puffed up and red as he pouted angrily at Bruce for making him stay at the Manor on nights Bruce insisted on going alone.

Dick tried to shove the past away. He knew he was making you even sadder.

“Has Bruce made any attempts to reconcile?” Dick remembered the conversation he was having with you.

“Yeah, but I’m still mad at him,” you pouted.

“And you have every right to be,” Dick nodded, “But Bruce, well, you know Bruce. He keeps these things to himself, but obviously he’s still hurting.”

You have know idea how much he’s hurting, Little Wing.

You avoided Dick’s eyes, looking down at your fumbling thumbs as the room became silent.

“I’m seeing someone,” you changed the subject.

“You are?”

Interesting.

“Yeah,” you blushed, “It’s still very new, and we’re not official yet or anything. But we’re definitely testing the waters.”

“That’s great,” Dick grinned, “Who is he? Tell me the deets. Spill the tea.”

He sort of loved gossip. It wasn’t a secret.

“I met him in the library a while back,” you excitedly said, “We exchanged numbers. Started texting, meeting up from time to time. He’s really cute.”

Ah, young love. What Dick would give to be at that age again.

“I bet he is,” Dick teased.

“What’s with that face?” you laughed, “He is! He’s slightly older, and he’s got this sexy bad boy look, you know?”

“I thought you liked the nerdy types?” Dick responded. He saw a picture of you and your classmates on your Instagram. Typical prep school kids.

“I never had a type, you ass!” . “You’re right. I thought you were completely uninterested in boys,” he wondered out loud, “Is he nice, at least?”

“Yeah he is,” you smiled to yourself, “He didn’t know I was Wayne until 2 weeks ago. Before that, we were mainly texting. Now we’re meeting up more. I feel like I can be myself with him. I don’t know, there’s just something about him that makes me trust him.”

So you still have some of your walls up with me, but you trust a stranger? Who is this guy?

“I’m not going to tell him anything!” you quickly added, “I’m not stupid. I know I shouldn’t trust someone I just met. It’s not about the confidential stuff. It’s the little things like how I feel, and my problems, and just- stuff, you know?”

The thought didn’t even cross his mind. Dick trusted you enough with their secret, just as how Bruce did.

“I get it,” Dick tried to rationalise, “You don’t know what it is about the person, but you feel like the two of you just click, am I right?”

It had been like that with Barbara. It had been like that with Kory.

Now Dick was alone, and deep down he knew that they saw him as how he truly was. Selfish.

“Exactly,” you smiled, “Been with anyone like that before?”

“One or two,” he brushed it off, “People like that- whom you just click with- they’re hard to come by. You should see where this leads. Who knows, maybe he’s one of those that would stick around, huh?”

What he would give to have at least one person who would stick with him.

After he met with Gordon, Dick went to the cave to see Bruce who was, of course, facing the computers.

“I know what you’re going to say,” his father’s voice echoed without even turning to look at him.

“Then you know how much you’ve hurt her?” he crossed his arms.

Bruce did turn around to face him, and Dick suddenly felt a tightness in his chest.

He knew that Bruce hardly ever slept, but this was different. He looked disheveled, his complexion pale, his eyes more bloodshot and the dark circles even more prominent.

Alfred did say how badly Bruce took the kidnapping, finding him passed out on the cave floor with an empty bottle of scotch in his hand, but he thought that Bruce would have gotten himself together by now. It was surprising to see him that way, and Dick felt… Uncomfortable.

Something was wrong, and it wasn’t just the kidnapping, nor his fight with you.

“You found out something,” Dick narrowed his eyes, “Something important. What is it?”

He caught a flash of guilt in Bruce’s eyes. “I’ll tell you some other time.”

“Bruce,” Dick groaned, “This is why you keep on hurting her.”

Hurting us.

“I’m protecting everyone.”

“You can’t use that excuse with me anymore,” he sighed, “I don’t need your protection. So tell me.”

“No.”

That was his final word, and he knew that Bruce would never budge.

“Fine,” he let out a breath, “Did you know that she’s seeing someone?”

Bruce frowned.

Which made Dick frown. Since when did Bruce miss things? What the fuck was going on with him?

“Name?”

“Dunno. Didn’t ask. And no, don’t you dare,” Dick pointed an accusatory finger at him, “Do not do a background check on him. She deserves privacy. Hell, don’t even bring it up. You have no right to go poking into her relationships.”

Dick was being defensive, but that was because he was trying to convince himself as well, which was why he didn’t ask you for a name. He knew he wouldn’t be able to resist.

“I wasn’t going to,” Bruce reassured, “She… She deserves a life. A normal life. Not this- not-”

Dick knew then he had to leave, because Bruce’s voice breaking meant he was far from okay, and he knew that Bruce hated to show his vulnerability to anyone.

“Bruce,” Dick said, this time softly, “You’re not alone, you know. I’ve been with you since the beginning, and I’m still with you now.”

And with that, Bruce turned his back towards him again, silently going back to his goddamned computers.

“He’s been that way ever since the kidnapping,” Alfred informed him when he walked up to the manor.

“I don’t think it’s just the kidnapping, Alf,” he frowned at the butler, “There’s something more to it. Did he figure out who Red Hood is?”

“Perhaps,” Alfred pursed his lips, “But he refuses to tell me.”

“That means we know him personally,” Dick theorised, “Who the hell could it be that he’s so adamant on keeping it a secret?”

“I do not know Master Dick, but it can’t be anyone good if he’s got Master Bruce drinking during the day.”

***

Bruce knew that he was wrong to call you by his dead son’s name.

But his dead son was supposed to stay dead instead of haunting him with that glaring red bat across his chest, and having that thought in his head all the time, he slipped up.

He prided himself with his contingency plans and detective skills and preparations, but no amount of time could ever prepare him for when he found out his dead son had sexually assaulted his daughter.

You seemed to have dealt with it surprisingly well, exceeding his expectations. In fact, Bruce thought it was a bit odd that you weren’t as affected by it.

And then he saw it.

He saw what he thought was the internalized anger you felt finally bursting through the seams of your tightly lidded emotions.

And he wasn’t prepared for it.

Bruce didn’t think you had it in you, or else he would never have made you Robin.

But there you were on the ground, beating a man beyond recognition.

He couldn’t dread this moment because he never saw it coming. Not from you. Never from you.

He hurriedly ripped you off the man, flinging you away with force.

Pulse was present, but weak. Flail chest. It took him only a few seconds to observe the damage you did to the man’s face. It didn’t look good.

“Stay back,” he growled at you when you came close.

He couldn’t look at you. He didn’t want to.

“I-I didn’t mean to,” he heard you whisper.

“Call an ambulance,” he ordered.

There was no other choice. He had to take the fall for you.

“NOW!” he snarled at you again. In the background, you were on the phone, but Bruce’s thoughts were elsewhere, calculating what needs to be done.

You moved-

“Leave. I’ll deal with this.” You needed to go. You couldn’t be here when the ambulance and police arrived.

“Batman-”

“I said leave,” he snapped. He couldn’t even hear your voice.

He waited for the ambulance to come before leaving, making sure they saw him escape. Making sure he would be the one the media would attack.

And while he drove back to the Cave, he decided to give his son a call.

“Bruce?”

“Dick,” he sighed. He knew he had always been unfair to his eldest, giving him so much pressure to perform, pushing him to be his best- and ultimately away. He knew that he never showed it, but he was proud of Dick. He always had been from the very beginning.

“What’s wrong?”

It wasn’t a surprise that Dick picked up immediately that something was wrong. If it wasn’t for the fact that calling him out of the blue was what gave it away, Bruce himself trained Dick.

“She- she crossed the line tonight,” he tried to explain, “Jerome Miller. She attacked him. The damage she’s done to him is irreversible. I suspect he will be in a vegetative state for the rest of his life.”

“Jesus,” Dick breathed from over the line, “Why didn’t you stop her?”

“I wasn’t there,” he grit. He thought he could trust you.

But deep down Bruce knew that it was all his fault after all. Who was he to act so righteous when he was the reason your parents died?

“I don’t know if she’ll talk to me, Bruce,” Dick sighed, “Not about something like this. She’s probably beating herself up over this already.”

“As she should.”

“Bruce.”

“Please,” Bruce asked, “I’m worried. She isn’t herself and I can’t blame her for it, but the chances of her talking to you are much higher than if I were to try.”

“I’ll try,” Dick agreed.

“Report to me after.”

“Bruce, we’ve talked about this,” Dick grumbled, “I am under no obligation to report to you. I’m doing this for her. Not you.”

He was trying not to go back to the man he was before, but sometimes he couldn’t help it.

They’re your children, not your soldiers.

He had to remind himself time and time again. It was easier to be just a father to you as compared to Dick and Jason, yet even then he made slips.

“I know,” he apologised. “Thank you.”

Click.

And then Bruce was alone again.

***

Bruce watched you from the corner of his eye when you came back. He noticed that you had put more effort into dressing up when you left the house that day.

There was a slight bounce to your step and a small smile that played on your lips.

Dick was right after all. There was someone you were seeing.

But no, he couldn’t look into it. In fact, it would be hypocritical of him if he did. Dick had many girlfriends and flings, and Bruce didn’t want to know about any of them. Mainly because Dick was his first, and the thought of a boy he raised maturing and having relationships made him feel confused about parenthood.

Not that many of them lasted too long anyway.

Jason was a little different. While Dick had girls lining up after him all the time, Jason was much more subtle about the girls he liked, and that made Bruce more curious- but not enough to investigate.

He thought about when Barbara had caught Jason looking at her, making him turn red. He wondered if Jason would like you.

A tight squeeze in his chest.

He didn’t let his mind linger there.

Bruce felt obligated to protect you, which tempted him to investigate the boy you were seeing. It could be a trap, it could be someone using you for fame and money, or something even more sinister. Hell, it could be Jason himself after that stunt he pulled off.

But there was no evidence, and Bruce wanted to be a father to you this time instead of Batman the mentor. So Bruce would have to trust you on this one.

***

There was something holding Bruce back from telling everyone the truth about Jason.

And because he is who he is, Bruce knew what it was.

Guilt. He blamed himself for what had happened, and telling others about it meant owning up to his mistakes. Bruce never ran away from his fears and feelings despite what others might think. On the contrary, he held to them very strongly, using them as a motivation to fight head on.

This time, though, he felt more self destructive- the worst he had ever felt since he carried Jason’s corpse from the rubble- and so he tried to delay the inevitable.

But time was running out. He had enough time to wallow in self pity. It was time to pull himself together, and the first step began with Alfred.

The Cave was colder than usual that night, air thin and darker despite the illumination he had provided. Bruce was slumped in his usual wheeled chair, cowl resting on the desk after patrol, the weight of his suit almost crushing him in his weakened mental state.

“Alfred,” Bruce sighed, “Please, take a seat. I have something to tell you.”

“I assume this is about the identity of one criminal who has been terrorizing your daughter?” Alfred retorted, sitting down anyway.

“Yes,” Bruce nodded, “This… This won’t be easy, Alfred. I suggest you prepare for the worst.”

“And the worst being..?”

Bruce wheeled himself closer to the butler, leaning forward. “It’s Jason.”

Alfred merely blinked. “I’m sorry, sir, but I’m afraid my ears have caught up to my age. I must have misheard you, because for a moment, I thought you said that Red Hood is Jason.”

“You didn’t mishear me, Alfred. It’s him.”

Bruce saw the confusion in Alfred’s eyes, the frantic search for reason. “Our Jason? Jason Todd?”

“Yes, Alfred.”

And then, Bruce felt it. The pain he had been suffering with for weeks spreading to the man who raised him. Alfred clutched his chest with one hand, the other clenching tightly over the armrest of his chair, his breathing quickened.

“Impossible,” he whispered, “Jason died. How?”

“There was an event regarding The League and Superboy punching reality. I won’t get into details, but I suspect that was what caused the initial resurrection. The restoration, however. We know of someone who has been continuously restored time and time again.”

“Ra’s Al Ghul,” Alfred concluded, “But why? Why on Earth would he restore Jason?”

“I don’t know,” Bruce frowned, “But it is an almost perfect revenge plan. I would like to entertain the idea that he has brainwashed Jason into thinking we are the enemy, but I can’t put it past him to develop a hatred for me. I… betrayed him.”

“Master Bruce, this is not your fault,” Alfred rose to his feet, “If it is indeed Jason, we can still help. I have faith in the boy.”

“Me too, Alfred. Me too.”

Bruce didn’t miss the sob that echoed faintly through the cave when Alfred ascended back up.

***

As if in slow motion, he saw every change of emotion on Dick’s face. The way he blinked once in confusion, the surprise approaching as he widened his eyes, and then his eyebrows stitching together in a deep frown, his lips downturning and nose flaring in anger.

Bruce saw the punch coming, but he did not do anything to counter it. Gladly, he took the right hook Dick gave him, appreciating the sting that radiated from his cheekbone to his jaw.

“How long have you known?” his son shook in anger.

“Dick-”

“HOW LONG, BRUCE?!” Dick roared, fists clenched, voice echoing in the cave.

“Since the night he blew up the warehouse,” Bruce replied.

“Jesus, fuck,” Dick ran his fingers through his hair, “Jesus, Bruce. That was over a month ago.”

“I know.”

“We-” he choked on his words, “We deserved to know.”

“I know.”

“So why the fuck didn’t you say anything?!” he slammed his fists on the desk. Bruce caught a few drops of tears that fell to the ground.

“I’m sorry,” Bruce apologised, and meant it. But he just couldn’t bring himself to say anything more.

“You’re sorry?” Dick looked at him with eyes far too cold than he knew, “He was my brother, Bruce. He told me things he never told anyone else. We shared secrets and jokes. We went to the same diner once a week to catch up. He asked for my help and I asked for his. And then he died. Just like that, because you couldn’t keep him on a leash. And now he’s back, and you knew it was him, and you’re just sorry?”

Dick’s eyes were wet and red, and filled with contempt. Bruce couldn’t blame him. He hated himself, too.

“Does she know?” he whispered, “Does she know that the man who attacked her is your son, and is my brother?”

Like always, he pushed the pain away efficiently, logically, objectively.

“Yes,” he confirmed, “I told her this afternoon.”

“And she’s not angry?”

“If she was, she did not show it,” Bruce described, “In fact, she looked… Worried.”

“Of fucking course she would be worried,” he snarled, “She’s worried that she’s going to be irrelevant to you now the dead Robin is back.”

“She’s not,” Bruce growled at that, “She’s not his replacement. She never was.”

“Does she know that, Bruce?” Dick snickered, “Did you finally get over yourself and tell her that? Because the last fucking time I spoke to her, you called her Jason.”

Bruce didn’t know how to respond to that. He was good at smiling at the cameras and making speeches and charming an audience, but he was never good with words, real words that described his true feelings to the ones he cared for the most.

“I’m sorry,” he simply said, now numb to everything throughout years and years of practice. “I promise, I will bring him back. Will you help me?”

“What can I do that you can’t?” Dick scoffed.

“You knew him, Dick,” Bruce said, “You knew him in ways I never did. I can predict his movements, but to accurately guess what his motivations are- you knew him better than I did.”

“Fine,” Dick conceded, “But I’m not forgiving you for this, Bruce. I swear, you’re going to pay for all the secrets you’ve kept from us, be it by my hand or someone else’s.”

***

“Did you know that your daughter went out last night to see a boy while we were patrolling?” Dick brought up.

He was looking at Bruce’s back, as he always was.

Bruce was on the computers, going through hours upon hours of security footage and traffic cams for Red Hood- for Jason.

It was difficult for him to put the two together. Jason had always been his little brother. Young, naive, inexperienced. And now that same person was the leader of the underground.

It was definitely difficult.

“Alfred mentioned she went out, but I didn’t know it was to meet a boy,” Bruce replied without glancing his way.

“Well, she lied to me about it at first,” Dick sank in a chair, looking at his nails. “Got pretty defensive when I brought it up. Even tried to deflect by using Jason against me.”

Dick knew you meant to hurt him with your words, and it worked.

He was definitely surprised that you would stoop that low because he always saw you as a sweet, kind girl.

People change. That’s what happens when you stick with Batman.

But Dick didn’t expect you to change so fast.

“She… used Jason against you?”

Bruce finally turned towards him, the ever constant frown a little bit deeper that moment.

“Yeah,” Dick straightened, “It was the first time she’s ever spoken to me that way.”

“What did she say exactly?”

“That I was distracting myself by using humor as a coping mechanism, and that I should come to terms with the fact that it was my brother who kidnapped and sexually assaulted her,” he repeated bitterly.

“What did you say to her that she responded that way?” Bruce asked.

“I was just making fun of her boyfriend,” Dick shrugged, “Why? Do you think she’s hiding something?”

At first, Dick thought that you were genuinely angry at the both of them because you were right- Jason did kidnap you. Jason did do those things to you. And Jason was supposed to be under both Bruce and Dick’s responsibility.

Dick didn’t blame you for it, because he would have probably been angry if the situation was reversed.

It was one of the mistakes he always made as Robin when Bruce was teaching him how to accurately deduce by reading people. Never assume that someone’s motivations would be the same as your own.

“She hid that she has… someone from me. There must be a reason why.”

“Or she knows how you are and would rather not have your nose in her business, Bruce. She did find out about that tracker you put in her necklace. How did she even react to it?”

Bruce had done the same with both Dick and Jason while they were Robin, though it didn’t come disguised as a pretty, shiny piece of metal.

On the contrary, during Dick’s Robin days, Bruce had hid it behind his third molar while he was unconscious. He only found out after a year, when he was held hostage by a mercenary who wanted to use him to lure Batman. Said mercenary had detected the tracking device and pulled it out along with the tooth.

It made him increasingly more hostile towards Batman and his never ending need for control, but at least it saved him a trip to the dentist.

From what Dick knew, Jason died with his tracker on him.

Bruce had said that it was all done in the name of safety.

But would you tell Jason the same thing now?

“I apologised and never replaced the one Red Hood damaged. I thought that would have been sufficient for her to trust me again.”

Dick let out a bark of laughter at that, but it was void of any humor. “Only you would think that not replacing her damn tracker would make her trust you. No wonder she hasn’t told you anything.”

It was probably best not to mention that you were now also sexually active.

“Do you think she’s hiding something important?” Bruce asked.

“Are you actually asking for my opinion?” Dick smirked, “No, but it’s too soon to tell, anyway. Relax, Bruce. It’s like you forgot what it was like to be young and in love.”

That was obviously a joke. Bruce grew out of his childhood the moment he saw his parents getting killed in that alley.

As for being in love, did Bruce ever allow himself that?

***

“What did you say she called herself?” Nightwing asked softly.

The poor girl was scared out of her mind to the point where Dick found it difficult to extract important information from her ramblings.

Well, that’s what happens when someone makes you kill a person.

It was difficult, so difficult, to face the fact that it was Jason behind all of that.

“I t-think, V,” the witness- Elena- stuttered. “She with him. But try to stop him.”

Behind him, he felt Batman pause. He was walking around the club and analysing evidence while listening to the conversation.

“She tried to stop him? Him as in Red Hood?” Dick frowned.

“Yes,” Elena looked down and rubbed her arms.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but,” Dick tried, “You told me they were partners.”

“Yes, but she try to stop him,” she repeated, “I don’t know.”

“It’s okay,” Dick offered a smile, “Thank you very much. You’ve been a huge help.”

“Am I going to prison?” she looked at him with big, wet eyes.

“We’ll make sure you won’t,” Dick assured, “You’ll get the best defense team in Gotham.”

“You can do that?” she asked, hope in her voice.

“It’s the least we could do,” Dick answered, a sad smile playing on his lips.

He’s our responsibility.

“Thank you,” she gave a watery laugh, “Even prison better than with him, I want to be free.”

Dick heard footsteps approaching. As he turned around, Gordon entered the crime scene, followed by his team.

“Of course you’re here first,” he sighed at Batman.

“Gordon.”

“You might have to speak to the police again, okay?” Dick told Elena who was suddenly nervous again by the presence of so many people. “I’ll make sure they know you’re innocent. Gordon is the only one you can trust, okay?”

She nodded, her gaze turning downwards.

“Gordon,” he approached the aging man. He was used to talking with Gordon in Batman’s stead, even when he was Robin, and remembered feeling proud of himself whenever he finished speaking to Gordon regarding cases without Batman having to add anything.

“Nightwing,” he blinked, “It’s been a while.”

“Desperate times calls for desperate backups,” he grinned, “Anyway, the girl. She’s a victim of Victor Ibenescu’s human trafficking trade. Romanian, only thirteen when she was kidnapped. She was forced to shoot Victor by Red Hood.”

“This Red Hood likes his poetic justice,” Gordon snickered.

“It’s still first degree murder, or at least, that’s how the law would make it seem,” Dick reminded him, “But I assure you she’s innocent. Red Hood threatened to kill and rape her if she didn’t shoot.”

That was a lie, on both his part and Elena’s. Judging by the way she averted her eyes and touched her own arm, Dick could tell that she wasn’t telling the whole truth about being threatened by Red Hood- but he also knew that he couldn’t expose her and get into more trouble.

He wanted to let out a tired sigh, but that would give him away in front of Gordon and the other officers. He still needed to maintain his air of hopefulness, and he couldn’t seem like he was troubled by his thoughts.

Time to meet Bruce back at the cave and watch the surveillance footage.

***

“He’s got a partner now,” Dick voiced out his findings, “Since when did Red Hood partner up?”

Bruce’s frown was deep as he stared at the screen.

Dick pursed his lips. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Whether this is Red Hood or Jason?” Bruce hummed, “This definitely does not seem like anything Red Hood would do. He’s always tried to separate himself from others because it furthers his authoritarian agenda. He does not get friendly with people because people are disposable to him.”

“So you think this is Jason, then?” Dick concluded, “Well, Jason never had much of a problem working with others in the past, and he made some friends. He wasn’t the type to be hostile to people.”

“He did have trust issues,” Bruce pointed out, “At the very beginning.”

“Yes, and he kept a lot of things to himself,” Dick agreed, “But he did have friends.”

“Special friends,” Bruce added, “Friends who gained his respect and trust. So the question is- who is this girl and how did she manage to gain his trust?”

“Hey, play it back again,” Dick said, “Those moves.”

Bruce played the security tape, showing the mysterious girl and Red Hood taking down Victor’s men.

“Arnis,” Bruce pointed out.

“It’s a little different.”

“She has incorporated silat in as well. Low stance,” Bruce observed. “She’s skilled, but not polished. It could be anyone.”

There was something familiar about the girl that Dick couldn’t pinpoint. Dick usually had strong intuition- a gut feeling that enabled him to know which facts to focus on during an investigation, or a strong ability to see through people.

But the problem was that it wasn’t solid proof or evidence, something Batman heavily focused on. It was a gut feeling that told him he knew who the girl was.

“Do you think it’s-” he broke off without completing his sentence. There was nothing to back his claims.

“She has no reason or motive to work with Jason,” Bruce shot the idea down, “He’s hurt her. And… She wouldn’t betray me like that.”

“She’s been keeping secrets, Bruce,” Dick reminded, hating the fact that this time it was him who was suspicious.

Oh, how the tables have turned.

Because he never would have thought that Jason was capable of torture and murder, either.

Why didn’t he come to me?

“As you clearly pointed out prior to this,” Bruce grit, “She has her reasons as to why she’s keeping secrets. And it is most probably because of me. All of you kept secrets. But this time, I’d like to let her keep hers.”

It was sweet, seeing Bruce that way.

“Is it guilt?” Dick asked.

“It’s repentance.”

Dick hated playing the bad guy.

Because he wasn’t supposed to be. He was the one people looked up to for inspiration, he was the light to Batman’s darkness, he was the smiles and charms and laughter.

He wasn’t the one who would accuse his little sister of fraternizing with the- was Jason the enemy?

Shit. Jason had messed with his senses. Dick’s head was chaotic, his emotions causing him to tense up.

Was he wrong? Was he just like Bruce? Was he jumping to conclusions just because Alfred told him you were out? Should he investigate this Carter you said you were with?

No. I’m not Bruce.

And now, you were looking at him with angry eyes, betrayed and appalled by his accusation.

*** Large.

That was the first thing that came to Dick’s mind when he saw his little brother.

The last time Dick saw him, he was much shorter, and definitely not as bulky.

And the last time Dick saw Jason, he was giving him a hug goodbye, complaining that Dick had messed up his hair.

And now, Jason was aiming a gun at him.

The gunshot didn’t hurt nearly as much as the thought that Jason had indeed shot him. Did Jason hate him that much?

You’re almost as guilty as he is, Jason’s voice echoed in his head.

“Bruce,” he gasped in the comms, “I’m down. They got away.”

“I heard a gunshot,” the deep voice in his ear spoke.

“Yeah, Jason shot my leg,” Dick winced, “Didn’t hit bone but I think it nicked my artery.”

“There are children here,” Batman said, “I was right. He’s sabotaging the Powers’. Gordon should be here soon. You control your bleeding.”

Dick nodded to himself and took a deep breath before plunging his finger into the gunshot wound to keep himself from bleeding out.

***

“...suspects that the crime lord only known as Red Hood and an unidentified female were behind the home invasion. Maria and Joseph Powers were left in a gruesome state according to reports, but their only child Carrie Powers was unharmed. The authorities are not sure what Red Hood’s motive was, but more will be elaborated during Commissioner Gordon’s public address later this afternoon...”

Dick heard you close the door.

“You didn’t come home last night,” he lowered the volume of the television.

“Uh, yeah,” you answered.

Dick looked over at you. You seemed tired, eyes swollen and red from crying, wearing an oversized t-shirt that he didn’t recognize.

“I was at-”

“Carter’s?” he finished your sentence for you.

“Yeah,” you nodded, sitting down next to him on the sofa.

Dick frowned to himself. Your arms were crossed, you were avoiding eye contact, your body was angled away from him.

“You heard about the Powers’?” he turned his gaze towards the television.

“I saw the news on the way here,” you monotoned.

You smelled like a different shampoo. It was familiar, but Dick couldn’t remember where he had smelled it before.

“So you know that-”

“Yes, Jason did it,” you said rigidly.

“Along with-”

“His partner.”

Ah, now he remembered the smell. Jason’s favorite shampoo. He used to make fun of him for choosing one that was called what it was called. He didn’t really care about it, Dick kept his hair soft and fluffy with multiple women’s hair products. He just liked to rile Jason up because he was so defensive about it.

And with that, Dick let out a long, disappointed sigh.

“Bruce is in the cave. I suggest that you think long and hard about what to tell him,” Dick offered you a soft smile, “But no matter what you choose to say, you’ll always be my sister, and I’ll always love you no matter what, okay?”

You gave him a look of shock, and then realised that he had figured it out.

“I’m sorry, Dick,” you lips trembled, your eyes started brimming with tears.

“No, kid. I’m sorry,” he replied, “Go.”

You nodded and left.

Despite being right all along, he didn’t feel any sense of achievement. Dick couldn’t help but partly blame himself. For being so absent, for being neglectful, for being a bad brother.

Dick wasn’t perfect, but like hell would he stop trying to be.

***

For years Bruce had tried to stop feeling guilty for being relieved whenever someone else takes care of a problem he couldn’t solve- especially when it involved murder.

Bruce had tried to take down the Powers for almost a decade, and everytime he got close, there was always another obstacle in the way. It was difficult to expose the rich and powerful without resorting to violence, without resorting to breaking his principles.

So Bruce was ready to stop himself from internally celebrating their deaths. This time, however, he wasn’t as pleased. Because this time, it was Jason who brutally murdered two people. Jason, who was supposed to be under his care and responsibility.

“Bruce?” he heard your timid, small voice from behind him. “I have to tell you something.”

And there it was.

Bruce turned around and looked straight at you, piercing your eyes with his own as he waited on your confession.

A minute passed.

“I’m V,” you struggled to speak, “I’ve been meeting up with Jason for a few months now. I didn’t know he was Red Hood until you told me. But when you did tell me, I chose to confront him and team up with him anyway.”

Bruce didn’t say anything.

“He- he’s not a bad person, Bruce,” you justified, “He’s just really hurt. He needs help.”

You were telling Bruce things he already knew.

“I- I fell in love with him,” you continued, “And I let my feelings cloud my judgement and betrayed your trust. At first I thought that he was onto something, that his… methods were better than yours. And I was angry that you kept secrets from me. But after last night- after what I saw- I couldn’t- I couldn’t stay.”

Bruce clenched his jaw.

He suspected it. Dick suspected it. But for your sake, the both of them chose to put their trust in you. He had tried so hard to change from his old ways. He learned his lesson with both Dick and Jason.

He didn’t want you to go through the same thing they did.

So, he chose to blindly trust you anyway, hoping that he wasn’t right.

“I’m sorry, Bruce,” you were sobbing now, “I’m so sorry. Please, say something.”

After another minute of watching you break down in front of him, Bruce finally spoke up.

“Hang up your colors. You’re no longer my Robin.”

[massivedrickhead]

Bechloe Week 2021 - Day 4

July 29th: Near death experience

Read on AO3

“Beca, I’m not done talking about this,” Chloe huffed, following Beca out of their bedroom and down the stairs. One hand was held against her heavily pregnant stomach, while the other was gripping the bannister as she struggled to keep pace with her much quicker wife.

“I’m gonna be late for work, Chlo’,” was Beca’s response as she grabbed her jacket from the hook in the hall.

“It’s Saturday,” Chloe said, finally making it down in one piece. “You’re not supposed to work on Saturdays anymore. You promised.”

“I know,” Beca said as she began searching for her keys. “But the studio needs me to come in,” she lowered her voice a fraction, “and we need the money.”

Chloe sighed. “I need you here more than we need the money,” she said. “We have savings, and I’ll be going back to work once my maternity leave is up. And if things get really desperate, we could always ask-.”

“No,” Beca said, cutting her off.

“Beca.”

“We are not asking your parents for money. They already have a low enough opinion of me, we aren’t going to make it worse by letting them know I can’t even provide for my family,” Beca said, dropping her bag on an armchair when she realised her keys weren’t in there. “And our savings are for our kids’ futures, not for right now.”

She walked through the living room, where her six-year-old daughter was watching cartoons, and into the kitchen.

“Blake, have you seen mommy’s keys?” Beca asked as she walked.

“No.”

Chloe followed Beca into the kitchen.

“So I have to suffer because you want to save face in front of my parents?” She said, trying to keep her voice low so Blake wouldn’t hear.

“Oh, I didn’t realise you were suffering,” Beca replied. Chloe spotted Beca’s keys on the bench and picked them up. “Can I have my keys please?”

“Beca I can’t keep doing this on my own. I need your help,” Chloe said, her hand resting on her stomach again.

“This is me helping,” Beca said. “Going to work and putting money in our account is how I help.”

Chloe had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from snapping.

She didn’t know how many more times she needed to tell Beca that providing for the family wasn’t all on her shoulders.

“Beca. Please. I know you think it’s all on you because the latest single didn’t sell as well as you’d hoped-”

“- it bombed, but thanks for bringing it up-”

“-but we’re a team,” Chloe said, as if there’d been no interruption. “That means we share the load. And it also means you can’t run off to work every Saturday and leave your very pregnant wife looking after a six-year-old.”

Beca sighed as guilt prickled the back of her neck. “I’m gonna be late,” she said, holding out her hands for her keys.

Chloe dropped the keys into her hand before pushing past her in order to start making breakfast.

“I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

“Fine,” Chloe said, keeping her back to her as dropped bread into the toaster. “Don’t wake me if you’re home too late.”

“Okay,” Beca said, before she turned and left.

Chloe swallowed the lump in her throat as she heard Beca say goodbye to their daughter before she left the house.

Beca was running very late by the time she made it out to her car.

Guilt, worry, and frustration were all fighting each other inside to see which could make her feel worse.

Couldn’t Chloe see that she didn’t want to have to go into the studio on a Saturday?

She would much rather spend her weekend with her wife and daughter than deal with the aftermath of the dud she’d just released.

A chunk of the money she’d made from the first album was in a trust fund for their kids, enough to cover college (if they wanted to go) or to help set them up in their first home.

Some of it was in a bank account for a break-in-case-of-emergency situation.

But the rest… it had surprised Beca how quick it had gone down.

There was the wedding, the honeymoon, buying them this house, paying off the remainder of Chloe’s college debt, paying off her Mom’s debt, and then the cost of living in L.A… it all added up.

It didn’t help that after she’d given birth to Blake she took some time out of the spotlight and the income of money began to slow down.

After a gap of almost two years, Beca had been ready to start making music again but her first single off her new album just… fell flat.

Theo warned her she’d have to do a lot of work on the album to recover from that, and that meant a lot of late nights and weekends.

“Chloe, just a few more weeks and the album will be out and then things can go back to normal again.”

“No, Beca. A few more weeks and then you start promoting. A few weeks and you start touring. A few weeks and our baby will be born!”

A car cut her off as they were approaching the highway, and Beca had to slam on the brakes to avoid hitting it.

“Asshole!” She said, laying on the horn.

She saw the sticker in the back window, and had to laugh.

‘You’re right where you’re meant to be.’

Beca wondered if it was meant to be inspirational, or if it was meant to be a joke.

“Yeah, right where I’m meant to be,” she muttered. “Which is right behind you.”

They reached the traffic lights and the car ahead drove off while Beca was stuck at a red light.

Great.

If she’d left even one minute earlier-

She didn’t have time to finish her thought as a truck came barrelling out of nowhere and t-boned the car that had cut her off.

“Oh my god!”

Beca got out of the car and dialled 911 as she surveyed the carnage in front of her.

She could hear screaming and yelling as other people got out of their cars to look.

She could smell smoke and burnt rubber, and heard the long unbroken sound of a horn.

Some people ran forward to help, others were calling for help.

Others took videos. Holding their phones up to record the chaos.

Will they watch the footage later? Beca wondered. Or just sell it to a news station.

Beca requested an ambulance and had just told them the location as the car that had been hit burst into a fireball.

She could feel the heat from where she was standing.

That would have been me, she thought, her blood running cold with horror. A second earlier and it would have been me.

In her mind, she saw that sticker again.

You’re right where you’re meant to be.

She threw up. Last night’s dinner splattered the road.

Ambulances, fire trucks, police, they all showed up in the next ten minutes as Beca watched the nightmarish scene in front of her. She couldn’t take her eyes off it.

She would learn on the news that night that there were no survivors.

An officer came to ask her if she saw anything, and she told him what happened.

“Sounds like you got lucky,” he said, writing it down. He took her details in case they needed any more information, and told her to drive carefully on her way home because “you look a little pale ma’am.”

Beca got in her car, turned around, and drove straight home.

She didn’t even register the journey, and was parked in her drive and walking through the front door before she even realised she’d made it home.

“Bec? Is that you?”

Chloe was in the living room with Blake when Beca walked in, looking very pale with unshed tears in her eyes.

“Baby? Are you okay?”

Chloe stood up with difficulty and made her way over to Beca.

“Beca?”

Beca didn’t answer, she just wrapped her arms around Chloe as tightly as she could, and started crying.

She buried her face in Chloe’s neck and breathed her in as she tried to control her tears.

“Okay,” Chloe said, softly. “You’re okay, I’ve got you.”

“I’m sorry,” Beca choked out. “Please, never stop arguing with me.”

“What?”

“Never stop giving me a hard time about working too much. Please don’t give up on me, Chlo’.”

“Bec, honey, take a breath and tell me what happened,” Chloe said, ending their hug and resting her hands on Beca’s shoulders. Beca still looked scarily pale. “Sit down.”

She led Beca to the sofa and sat down beside her.

Blake, who had been watching with apprehension ran off to the bathroom before returning with what looked like half a roll of toilet paper.

“Here you go mommy,” she said, handing it to Beca.

Beca laughed and used it to wipe her eyes. “Thank you baby,” she said. She lifted Blake into her lap and kissed her cheek and hugged her so hard that Blake started to giggle.

“Mommy you’re gonna squish me!”

“Sorry,” Beca said, relaxing her grip, allowing Blake to slide off her lap and return to her toys.

“What happened?” Chloe prompted.

Beca sniffed and wiped her eyes again. “There was an accident,” she said. “It was bad, and… and I would have been in it. If I’d left here a minute earlier I would have been in it. I… I almost…” She swallowed, not wanting to voice it in front of Blake.

Chloe didn’t need her to say it, she understood.

“Oh my god,” she said, her voice catching. She swallowed hard and blinked back tears. “Okay,” she said, pulling Beca into a hug. “You’re okay.”

“I love you, Chloe. I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Chloe said, squeezing her as hard as she could.

Their hug ended when Beca’s phone began ringing.

“It’s Theo,” she said, pulling the phone out of her pocket. She wiped her eyes. “Do I sound normal?”

“No, not even a little bit,” Chloe said. “Let me speak to him?”

Beca nodded and handed over the phone. She knew Theo was a little bit scared of Chloe, so would be much less likely to insist Beca come into work if she spoke to him.

“Hey Theo, it’s Chloe,” Chloe said. “Yeah, she won’t be making it in today.“

She took her free hand and started running it through Beca’s hair in a soothing motion, and she could almost feel the tension leaving Beca’s body. Sometimes she liked to tease Beca on how much she acted like a cat, but she wouldn’t do that today. Today she just needed to calm her down and make her feel safe and loved.

“No, she was almost in a car accident,” Chloe said, adjusting her position as best as she could so Beca could lean into her. Beca’s had came to rest on Chloe’s stomach, and she pressed a soft kiss against it. Their baby responded with a few kicks.

“Yeah, that’s the one. No, she's fine, but I don’t think she’s in any state to drive or work, I think she’s probably in shock. Okay. I’ll let her know. Thanks.” Beca looked up as Chloe ended the call. “He said not to worry about it. He heard about the accident which is why he called. He knows you take that road to work.”

“Thank you for doing that,” Beca said.

“Of course. We’re a team, remember?”

“I won’t ever forget it.”

Blake joined her mothers on the sofa, and cuddled into Beca’s other side.

Beca closed her eyes, surrounded by her family, and let out a slow breath.

She was right where she was meant to be.

[internalsealpanic]

Bloody Valentine

Summary: There is nothing more romantic than being stuck in an elevator and arguing about terrible life decisions. 

a/n: Blame @littleredwing89 for the existence of this.  This is, as of the time I’m posting this, the 4th part (chronologically) to my Dick Grayson/Merc!Reader series. It might be better for you to read part 1 or part 2 before reading this as the angst might hit harder if you do. 

Warnings:  Mentions of blood and injury. Dick and Reader are both hypocrites with no self preservation. It also gets a little heated(?) in the end but nothing really bad.

Main Masterlist

Dick Grayson Masterlist

Direct Sequel to this: Sweetness 

This was not how you pictured your Valentine’s Day. 

Sure, you weren’t exactly picturing a candle-lit dinner under the stars or slow dancing in the pale moonlight like a Hallmark movie. But you’re not exactly thrilled to be standing outside an emergency room waiting area, clutching an unopened pack of cigarettes and a spare superman shirt, as per the police chief’s suggestion. You tap your foot impatiently as an officer persuades the hospital staff to let you in as you stupidly forgot to bring any of your IDs. The pack of cigarettes crinkles loudly earning you a withering look from a tired-looking mother. 

You take a breath. 

You settle yourself in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs they point you to. There’s a scream in your throat. And you’re so close to crying. From frustration, anxiety, fatigue? You couldn’t distinguish. 

You flick your eyes to them. Finally, the staff relents and you brush past them brusquely.   

Your thoughts spiral. The bile lingers at the back of your throat. Burning. Acidic. Dick had lost a lot of blood but not fatal, they told you. The sob that left your mouth was inhumane. You’d almost dropped the phone. Static and white noise vibrated through your eardrums. In a trance-like state, you walk towards the room they kept him in, tunnel vision guiding you to his door. That’s what shock does to you. 

All you can think of is him.

You hold the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip, glaring at Dick through the rearview mirror, more specifically the white hospital issued sling cradling his arm. You watch Dick as he pretends to not notice the look you’re needling him with.  “I spy with my little eye something… green,” he says absentmindedly as he stares out into the flow of traffic. 

You keep your narrowed eyes straight ahead, not even thinking about dignifying his little distraction. Right now, all you were seeing was red. 

To your right, Dick sighs dramatically, running his hand through his black hair. “So you’re just going to ignore me, huh?”

You’re not but you sure are trying. 

Dick as far as you knew was used to silence but he thrived in noise. He lived off of interactions, good or bad. You’re usually an endless supply of banter and playful quips but right now you needed the silence. You needed him to stew in it along with you. This isn’t to say you were particularly ill-tempered or impatient with people, being friends with someone like Dick necessitated a certain level of patience in your opinion.  And sure, you had a sharp tongue but you didn’t lose your temper often. But as you sit there next to him with your teeth grinding, fingers tapping, and muscles clenched, you could feel anger coiling under your skin. 

He lets out another sigh, this time sounding genuinely exasperated. Good. “(y/n), I don’t know why you’re upset by this- I’m a cop. We both know the risks.” 

The coil under your skin burns and you break hard, pointedly ignoring the loud cursing from the driver behind you. Dick chokes and hisses as the seatbelt digs into his chest. You offer him no sympathy or apology as you shoot him such a glare that whatever smartass remark he has for you dies on the tip of his tongue. Considering all the villains and heroes he’s had glaring at him over the years, you consider this an accomplishment. Dick flinches at the intensity of the anger wicking off of you. 

You click your teeth and turn back to the road, seeing the light turn green again. “You were issued a gun for a reason,” you say flatly, opting for this instead of the litany of other ways to say ‘you’re a moron’. You’re polite like that. 

It’s Dick’s turn to level you a look but unlike him, you don’t flinch, too caught up in your own anger. “Well, I assessed the situation-”

“You were wrong.”

“- and thought I could deescalate,” he says scowling at you through the mirror. Hurt flashes behind his eyes.  He looks… like a mix between petulant and offended but you can’t bring yourself to care to do more than give him a withering look, especially not when you still have his bloodied uniform burned into your mind. You admired his determination to keep the peace the way you admired how uncompromising his stance was on second chances. You really did but… It was the second time he nearly died that week and it was just Tuesday. 

You stop again. You close your eyes. Loving someone who could someday not come home to you was not a possibility you had prepared for.  You just- You just weren’t ready to care for someone so… destructible.  You weren’t sure how to process all the anxiety that came with that, so you turned to anger. It just seemed so much more productive and tangible than the shapeless fear anxiety brought you. “And you nearly got shot in the heart,” you deadpan, heart twinging. You taper your emotions down into something more manageable, something easier to compartmentalize. You can tell Dick was going through the same process. Which one of you was having a harder time, you couldn’t tell. 

“He barely grazed me.”

“Correction, you have a hole in your shoulder.” Asshole.  You bite back the insult, trying not to escalate the argument. You click your teeth but try not to clench your jaw or grind your teeth. The first person to lose their temper loses the argument. 

Dick huffs, resting his chin against his uninjured hand. His eyes flicker to you then the window. “I’ve had worse,” he mutters and your stomach tumbles to the ground getting crushed by the tire. Your mind careens. Your lungs fill up with the smell of ash and gun smoke. For a moment, your eyes do not work. For a moment, you’re in a crumbling building. Your eyes watching the billowing smoke curl against the sky. A blast of heat so hot it makes the liquid in your eyes boil breezes past you. 

You feel the flick of Yasiri’s tail on your skin and suddenly your foot is on a gas pedal instead of a broken cement floor. You blink, a tar-like emotion is swimming under your skin. You breathe. You glare at the traffic in front of you if only to focus your vision. “You’re impossible,” you snarl. 

In the corner of your eye, Dick peels away from the window, anger flashing in his easy-going features. He’s brandishing a sneer. You brace yourself. Dick… Dick Grayson was a mean son of a bitch when he wanted to be and he knew too much of your hurts. You swallow, gripping the steering wheel. Yasiri swims on your skin, surfacing just enough to get ready to strike but also just enough to be hidden. 

Dick opens his mouth but no sound comes out. Dick closes his mouth then opens it again and instead of something truly scathing, Dic opts for something more teasing probably realizing that pissing off your driver is a really bad idea. “You say that like you’re any easier to talk to.”

“At least, I know how to listen,” you bite out, voice drawing dangerously low. Dick’s eyes flicker to you, his shoulders bunching up a fraction. You click your teeth and take a calming breath. 

Dick snorts, the knot in his shoulders disappearing. “Yeah, right.”

You bristle. Your fingers drum against the steering wheel contemplating on whether to deck him. You should deck him. You should definitely deck him. Would that open up his stitches? It probably would. You mutter a curse. It feels nice rolling off your tongue and it seems Dick feels the same when he curses in Romani. You catalog the word for later use. Dick turns away from you, glaring out the window. You can see the way his eyes narrow through the reflection in the window. The look in his eyes is a complicated mix of irritation and hurt and regret.  

You silently agree to table the discussion, at least, until you got off the road. 

You brush past the elevator door, tossing your bag to the corner and leaning against the cool wall of the elevator. Dick enters and leans on the opposite wall, gingerly rubbing his shoulder. Neither of you look at each other. You watch the buttons light up as the elevator climbs up. Your skin is still buzzing from emotions. You thought the quiet drive would right them but… it didn’t.

To your side, you hear the restless tapping of feet. You glance over to Dick whose body is vibrating and itching from movement. Seems you weren’t the only one jittery. You smother a snort in your hand. It was cruel but you find the fact that he’ll be so bored while recovering is slightly funny. 

The elevator shakes. You’re thrown off balance. There’s a metallic clunking above you. You both lookup. Dick strains his ears to listen. You quiet your breathing so as not to distract him. He sighs and curses, the side of his fist pounding against the wall. “It’s just broken.” You look at him, eyes wide and dumbfounded. 

“Are you fucking with me?”

He shakes his head. “I wish,” he scoffs. You scrunch your nose and Dick sneers. “We’re just gonna have to wait, I guess.”  And you press yourself against your wall. “Wonderful.” 

You both stew in silence. “I can’t believe I’m stuck...” you mutter under your breath as you try to pry the elevator doors open. Dick rolls his eyes at you. “You can’t open those doors, (y/n),” he ruffles his hair in frustration, “we just need to wait for the fire department, dumbass.”He says, his head lulling back against the wall. 

 You hiss, your fingers sore and red. “Has anyone ever told you that you were an ass?” You snarl making Dick scowl at you. 

“You’ve said so like 5 times in the emergency room and 2 times in- Do you really wanna start this again?!”

You punch the door, creating a deep divet. “You’re goddamn right I wanna start this again because, Richard, for once in your goddamned life I wish you would stop being such a self-centered dickweed!” You seethe. Your knuckles hurt. They feel cool. They’re probably bleeding. 

Dick shoots up from the corner. “How am I self-centered?”

“Risking your life like a fucking moron like that?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I was trying to save those people.”

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about,” you throw your arms up in exasperation, “do you know just how bad you are at keeping yourself alive because of that fucking hero complex, huh? You dumb. piece. of. Shit.”  You take a deep breath and continue your tirade. “You think you’re invincible just cus you run around in tights all night?”

Dick smirks at you. “You never had a problem with my tights when-”

“Check your ego, Grayson. I’ve dealt with a lot of spandex-clad pretty boys before, you’re nothing special.” You want the words to sting. 

“Oh please, you dealt with them by putting them in body bags!”

“Yeah! Fuck you! You’ll end up in one the rate you’re going.” Dick is speechless for a moment. Something in Dick’s eyes flares. You flinch and open your mouth to say something but Dick roars, the sound loud in the confined space. “What? Are you gonna tell me to stop being a hero? Are you gonna tell me that I’m not good enough to be Nightwing like how Bruce told me I couldn’t be Robin? Hah?”

Your heart drops and your chest burns. Your hackles draw up as high as they can. You bare your teeth. “No, you fucking moron That’s not the point!”

“What is it then, (y/n)? What do you want from me?!”

“You always go on this damn crusade to save everyone and everything and you don’t bother to take care of yourself or how it would affect others!”

“Wha-”

“No! You don’t- You don’t ever think!”You shove him against the wall, jabbing your finger into his chest. 

Dick glares down at you, grabbing your wrist in an almost painful grip. His finger jabs against your collar bone as he gets in your face, his hot breath fanning against your skin. “Fuck you! You’re just as bad as I am! You always throw yourself in front of others at the first sound of gunfire.”

“Dipshit, I have accelerated healing!” you say, ripping your hand out of his grip. 

“THAT DOESN’T MEAN YOU’RE INVINCIBLE.”

“Neither are you!” You sob, it comes out wet and raw. You close your eyes. You can still see the blood on his uniform. You sink to the floor, clutching at his shirt. Your tears sting even as they fall to the floor. “Neither are you.”

“(y/n)...” Dick’s shoulders droop as he watches you proud form crumple, entire body shaking.  He lowers himself to the ground slowly, careful not to agitate you. 

You press forward and bury your face into his shoulder, fist lightly punching his chest. You don’t want him to see you cry.  “Dick… I’m not saying you should quit… that- that’s just who you are.” You hiccup, tears flowing.“I just- I don’t want to bury you. I don’t- I can’t lose you, you fucking moron… You can’t just worm your way into someone’s heart and- and- ”

“(Y/n)...” Dick pulls you into his lap and lays his chin on your head. He hadn’t really thought… He should have known. He should have guessed. 

You pull away and look him in the eye, eyes bloodshot from crying. “You can’t just expect me to be ok with the possibility you won’t come back to me,” you say lowly, punching his chest.   The next few words come out in a shy whisper, low enough that Dick has to strain his ears to hear you. “Dick… I love you. I want to grow old with you, you waste of oxygen.” You cry into Dick’s shoulder not able to face him.  Dick shakes his head. He puts his hand on the back of your neck and presses a kiss to your hair. Dick doesn’t know how many times he has to tell you he doesn’t think less of you for crying on his shoulder but he’ll tell you no matter how many times you need to hear it.  

You sit in silence with only your muffled sobs and Dick’s comforting words filling the dead air. 

 “Timmy is gonna kill you for making me cry,” you sniffle, facing him with a wet tear-stained smile. 

Dick gives you a crooked smile in return.“ I still have no idea how you managed to turn my siblings against me,” Dick says, planting another kiss on your face but this time on your eyelid just below your brow. 

“You say that like it’s hard.” 

Dick pouts at you and you cackle loud and high, somehow still managing to sound musical. “I am a lovable big brother-”

“-And I’m a fucking nun-” Dick pinches your ass through your skirt. “We'll  have nun of that,”

You grab Dick’s wrist in a tight grip, managing to narrow your eyes at him. “I am not dropping this conversation just  to get fucked in an elevator.”

His eyes shine cheekily at the idea.“Wasn't my plan... but that works.”

“Dick…”

Dick leans down, his nose grazing your pulse, brushing like petals against your skin. “Let me make it up to you,” Dick says, licking a stripe up the column of your neck. Ignoring the swell of his pants against your inner thigh, you pinch his cheek, tugging him away from your neck. Your stomach roils at the loss of his lips on your skin but you suppress a whine to glare at him.

Dick looks up at you, mischief lighting his eyes. He pulls away from your hand. His lips find their way back to your neck then back up your jaw. His lips press kisses along your jawline. “It’ll-”kiss”-be-” kiss “-sooo worth it.”

Your breath hitches.“Dick...” you whine, feeling your skin heat. Your mind is buzzing. He smiles against you. His fingers toy with the strap of your bra, tugging it down slowly, carefully, making sure you feel every bit of his movement. “I hear my name-” he kisses your shoulder “-but you’re not stopping me.”

You roll your hips, panting for him. Dick’s tongue is hot against your skin. “C’mon, sweetheart, you know I can make you scream my name with just one hand,” Dick whispers against the shell of your ear. His hand slides down your arm down to your hip, his hand guiding your ass towards his growing bulge. “C’mon, Sweetheart, think about it-” Lick ”-the words I could make you sing.”

“Dick...” you pant, arching your back, pressing your body against his, giving him more access to your neck. Dick nips at your flesh happily. “Honey, I’m going to-”   

You yelp, your skin flying off your bones when you hear the elevator doors open. Dick, unphased, continues kissing you and licking up your skin. 

“Heeey guys, it’s Grayson,” the fireman calls out to the other men behind him. He turns back to the two of you with a cheeky grin.“Dickie, if I’d known it was you..” He glances towards you, eyes catching on the red hickeys blooming on your shoulder. You want to evaporate. “You guys need a minute?” Dick grins against your skin, looking up at you through thick lashes. “Thanks, Jerry, but we might need more than that.”

You glare down at Dick who simply smiles at you as he nips at your flesh.  “What? Feeling shy?” Dick breathes against your neck and all of a sudden, all of the anger and irritation comes creeping back. You shove Dick lightly, standing up and fixing your shirt. “I think he has a concussion. I suggest you check him out,” you snarl, brushing past Jerry leaving Dick on the floor, horny and stunned. 

“I’m totally fine!” Dick says, scrambling to his feet and grabbing your bag. 

You glare over your shoulder. “Our argument isn’t over.”

“What? But- I thought- We were about to-” Your scowl deepens as you see Dick flounder.  Jerry cackles as he gives Dick’s back an unsympathetic pat. 

“Sorry about that, Grayson. I guess you were destined to get blue balled,” Jerry laughs shaking his head. Dick sighs deeply, his shoulders drooping. “Are you really sorry?” Dick asks, side-eyeing Jerry. Jerry grins. “Nah, but it’s the thought that counts,” Jerry says, looking all too pleased with himself. 

Dick bumps past Jerry gently with a slightly petulant look on his face which earns him a chuckle from Jerry and a glare from you. “Watch the shoulder,” you crow from the hall. 

Jerry shakes his head. “No, hero’s welcome, huh?” Dick rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, she’s not exactly happy about the hole in my shoulder,” Dick admits, sheepishly. Jerry shoves Dick forward lightly and the other firemen do the same. “Go get ‘er, Tiger!”

Dick falls into step behind you, his lips brushing the back of your neck. His arm wraps around you as he pulls you close. He places a kiss behind your ear. You gasp and you hear hoots behind you. “Dick… Don’t… You can’t solve this with an orgasm,” you sigh, feeling your resolve crumble as his soft lips brushed the weak point of your neck. “Honey… please.” Dick holds you against his chest. The beating of his heart thaws you. “Honey, I’m sorry...” His breath runs down the side of your neck and it feels like feathers caressing your skin. You take a breath. He just knew how to make you melt. 

“... I love you too.”

Tag list: @batarella, @anothertimdrakestan, @lucy-roo, @multifandomgirl-us, @idkmanicantenglish,@birdy-bat-writes,  @boosyboo9206, @americasmarauders , @l-inkage, @arestorationofbalance , @cloudie-skay, @wunderstell   @hyp-oh-critical @glorified-red

[l-wannabe-l]

Short Circuit

Chapter 1: First Impressions

During the events of T2 John's half-sister, Aria catches the attention of the T-1000. Having failed a second time Skynet starts targeting the people who will one day fight beside John.

T-1000/Austin x OC

This first chapter will follow the movie but it will start diverging soon. I'm still new to fanfic writing so feel free to leave a comment.

It was gone.

Not in my closet or my drawers or under the bed.

It was gone.

The little money maker that I made and the little brat took it. I grab my cardigan and make my way out into the hallway. He's probably made it to the mall already (and he didn't even think to invite me), spending money that's not his. I mean it's not mine either but that's not the part I'm upset about. Knowing the way he drives on his bike I'll be lucky if the atm card is still working when I get it back. As I looked for my keys, they were RIGHT HERE I SWEAR, the doorbell rings. Seeing as it's not my house I don't go to answer. I hear the door open accompanied by a tired sigh.

Todd must've gotten it.

"Are you the legal guardian of John Connor?'

That's never a good question. I take a peek around the corner to glance at the man at the door. The first thing I notice is that he's wearing a police uniform. Yup, not good.

"That's right, officer. What's he done now?" A very valid question that the officer ignores as he seems to scan the house, pausing briefly as he spots me before turning his attention back to Todd.

"Could I speak with him please?"

"Could if he were here. Took off on his bike this morning so he could be anywhere." Todd answers with a shrug, clearly not giving two shits as Janelle joins him at the door.

"Do you have a photograph of John?"

"Yeah sure, hold on." She turns to grab her wallet and sees me hiding behind the corner. She looks at me expectedly probably thinking I know what's going on. I just shake my head. Like I would tell her even if I did know.

"You gonna tell me what this is about?" Todd tries asking again as Janelle rejoins them, handing off the picture.

"Just need to ask him a few questions. He's a good-looking boy. Do you mind if I keep this picture?" He asks as he studies the image.

"No, go on. There was a guy here this morning looking for him too." Janelle offers. This gets the officer's attention as I see him still and look back up. This surprises me too as I wasn't here in the morning and my foster parents apparently didn't think to tell me about some stranger looking for my little brother.

"Yeah, a big guy on a bike. That got something to do with this?" Todd adds. Dear God John, who are you getting involved with? The officer pauses for a moment before responding.

"No. I wouldn't worry about him. Thanks for your cooperation." He takes one last glance up in my direction. Our eyes meet. Only for a second before he's gone. But it's long enough to send a chill down my spine. Police officer or not that man is dangerous and he's heading straight for John. When John fails to answer his phone, that I got him by the way, I hurry to find my keys and make my way outside. The cop had left. He'll have to ask around to find John which should buy me some time.

It's a bit of a distance to get to the mall and the traffic of a Saturday afternoon doesn't help but I make it. I head towards the arcade on the second floor but have to backtrack around a corner when I spot the officer from earlier talking to some kids.

Christ, he works fast. This man really takes his job seriously.

The kids seem not to know anything as the man continues on and out of sight… in the direction of the arcade. DAMN IT. I hurry after hoping he'd walk past it which he does. I slow down to look through the windows hoping to catch a glimpse of John.

"Excuse me, have you seen…"

Stopped by the entrance I turn to look at the speaker realizing too late my mistake as I'm face to face with the very man I was avoiding. Because of the close proximity, I notice he's tall, and with a square jaw, bright blue eyes, and soft-looking light brown hair, he's handsome too. This is bad for me, because tall and handsome have gotten me in trouble before and I will not let it do so again. But he's staring, obviously recognizing me from not even an hour ago, so I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

"Lo siento señor no hablo ingles."

His brow furrowed in confusion which I take as my cue to leave. So with an "Adios!" I duck into the arcade, send a quick thank you to my high school Spanish classes, and hide behind the first big machine I find. From there I see him enter the arcade looking left and right, scanning as he did earlier, before turning to a pair of girls by a pinball machine. I turn away to go find John eventually finding him playing Afterburner.

"JOHN!"

"AAHH!"

"A cop is looking for you, what did you do?" He spares me a glance before returning to his game.

"... Is this because I took the card machine? Listen Aria, I'm sorry but mine broke."

"I am pissed about that but no."

"Is it cause I didn't invite you? In my defense, you weren't home."

"John..." I begin when Tim, John's buddy, slides up to us.

"John, hey there's this cop scoping for you, check it out." That got his attention, and let me be upset for a second as he takes a look around Tim and the machine to see the officer questioning another kid who points in our direction. John grabs his backpack, I grab John and we both head towards the employee door briefly looking back to see the officer pushing kids aside to catch up. I open the door and push John ahead of me, both of us running.

"So you'll listen to Tim but not to me?"

"Tim never messed with me about surprise police inspections." Ever since we were young mom drilled into us that the police were bad news and, like the caring and protective big sister that I am, I decided to add to this training. Suffice to say John tends to double guess me now and then.

"That's fair." Turning the corner we surprise a worker who yells at us and who we ignore as we push through the exit doors. That's when we turn to see a large man in a leather jacket and sunglasses and I freeze up as he opens the box to pull out a shotgun the roses he was carrying crushed beneath him as he advances. John pulls me back the way we came, the man following as we try the other doors.

Locked.

Trapped.

I chance a glance back to see he’s caught up with us. Another look forward reveals the officer appearing through the doorway, with a glare almost as menacing as the gun. I hear a click and a look back shows the shotgun has been leveled at us.

“Get down.”

What?

"ARIA!"

Lucky for me John has the good sense to listen to the man as he ducks down pulling me with him. I cover him as gunshots ring above us. I look up to see the officer blasted back a few inches, silver wounds appearing where red ones should be. The man in leather grabs us, spinning to cover us as the cop starts emptying his clip at us. I hear the poor employee from earlier scream in pain as he gets caught in the crossfire.

John and I scream, fear gripping us.

The bullet fire pauses for a moment giving our (definitely not) human shield the opportunity to bust open the door to our left and push us in. He turns away just in time for the officer to finish reloading but is undeterred by the bullets finding a home in his torso as he continues his march forward. He levels his own gun, shotgun shells flying as he blasts one after another pushing the smaller man back until he falls and our savior is allowed to reload. As he does so the silver gaps fill in and the man rises from where he lay grabbing the gun and catching the bigger man off guard as he tries and fails to gain back control. So instead he moves to grab the cop but is instead thrown into one wall then another. Cement and plaster alike collapsing in their struggle until they both disappear through a wall.

Despite the obvious difference in size, the larger man is the one being thrown around like a ragdoll which spells bad news for us. So I grab John again, pulling him behind me as I head towards the door that leads to a staircase. We head down until we reach ground level, the parking lot, we run over to John’s bike, an old thing that was mine before I handed it down when I got a new one. Trying to start it up now I remember why I upgraded.

“John, your bike is a hunk of junk!”

“It was your bike first! Just start it already!” The engine finally starts running just as the doors burst open. The cop racing after us on foot as we speed off.

[wannabemobwife]

Guns, Glamour and Goodfellas - Chapter 4

Chapter 4: You Didn’t Get to Heaven But, You Made it Close

Dad!Mob!Tom x Mom!Mob!Reader

-Pairings: Tom Holland x reader, Rosie Holland x Henry Osterfield

-Warnings: Language, Fighting, possible typos, hospital scenes

-Words: 4.6K

Chapter 4: You Didn’t Get to Heaven But, You Made it Close

Words: 4.6K

The night was a typical one at the Holland household. Earlier that night, Rosie helped you cook dinner, spaghetti and meatballs, a Holland family dinner favorite. Dinner was quiet, Tom had been ignoring Parker for multiple reasons, mainly the ultimatum but also he was still angered by the recklessness of his son the other night.

Only the sound of slight flickering of the chandelier candles, could be heard. It was a deafening silence that consumed them. No one wanting to speak up and risk and argument forming. Dinner ended quicker than it began and everyone excused themselves.

Tom and you sat by the fire in the living room while their kids closed themselves off for the night. Not giving another thought to their kids. Little did they know, Parker had a date that night. And after dinner ceased, planned his escape.

“Tommy, I think it’s about time we turn in,” you said.

“Y/N, I don’t know what we’re going to do.” Tom whispered with a somber voice.

“About what baby?”

“Parker. The threat. Everything,” Tom was beyond stressed at the moment.

“Shh, we’ll figure it out. We always do,” you said rubbing the back of Tom’s head and Tom nodded in response

“Now come on, why don’t I put your mind at ease,” you whispered seductively.

“Are you talking about some good lovin’?” Tom inquired moving his eyebrows up and down.

“You’re such a dork. I was, we’ll see now.”

“Aww don’t be like that, you’re such a tease.” “Oh you love it,” you said. “Yes, I do,” Tom shouted following you up the stairs.

“I think I’m going to take a shower, care to join me?” You exclaimed cheekily.

“Love, you don’t have ask me twice” Tom said. How could you be anymore perfect? The day ended even more perfectly.

After they showered, you both changed into wannabe pajamas, for you, a tank top and some shorts and Tom wore a pair of boxers. They were all set to watch a little TV and hop under the covers when tiredness overcame them, falling asleep in each others arms. Absolutely content with everything in your life, everyone in the family was safe, nothing had come of the note yet.

“I love you, darling,” Tom whispered pressing his lips to your hairline.

You were already fast asleep. How did he get, you, this amazing woman to fall in love with him? The night soon fell into pitch darkness, however Tom’s phone ringing, startling him out of his deep sleep.

“Hello?” Tom answered it with a groggy voice.

“Is this Mr. Holland, father of Parker Holland?” A woman on the other line spoke.

“Yes, this is. Who the fuck is this?” Tom said rather rudely just being woken up.

“Sir, I’m calling from Kingston Memorial Hospital. Your son has been involved in an accident.”

“Fuck, I’m on my way.” Tom muttered as he hung up

“Angel wake up, something is wrong with Parker,” Tom whispered, shaking you awake.

“Tommy, what? What’s wrong?” You muttered as you stirred awake.

“Just get dressed.” Tom said.

Driving like a madman and disregarding all traffic signals, they all eventually arrived at the hospital. Not giving anything else a second thought.

They all piled into the Rolls Royce. Tom drove, for the first time in a long time, always having someone drive him. You sat in the passenger seat, clutching Tom’s hand and hoping to god your baby boy was okay.

You hadn’t even bothered to wear proper clothes, you wore mix-matched shoes, shorts, a tank top and an overcoat to stay warm. Rosie was like her mother, only wearing a hoodie and pajama bottoms. Tom on the other hand was more put together, wearing a regular t-shirt and pants along with the same pair of shoes, unlike, you, his wife.

Barging through the sliding doors, Tom made his presence known.

“Parker Holland, where is he?” Tom screamed as he marched up to the receptionist.

“I’m sorry sir, hold on a moment,” the nurse clad in light blue scrubs said.

“NO! Fuck this. Parker Holland, tell me where the fuck he is before I blow your brains out.” Tom shouted and flashed his pistol.

“Alright Sir, just please put the gun away,” the nurse pleaded.

“He is in room 202,” she concluded.

“Thank you, come on Tommy,” you replied, pulling your husband away.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion, the moment you saw your baby boy lying unconscious in a hospital bed.

“I’m sorry, are you family?” asked the doctor as everyone funneled in the room.

“Yes, we are his parents,” Tom concluded

“I’m his sister,” Rosie spoke up, trying not to be forgotten.

“Good. Parker has a mild concussion, a few broken ribs, and he came in with a ruptured spleen which was taken care of during surgery. The anesthesia should be wearing off any moment now,” the doctor explained.

“Parker? Baby? It’s mommy. Please wake up,” you whispered to your son while petting his head, trying not cry at his busted lip and swollen eye.

“Mr. Holland? Sorry to disturb you but, the police would like to talk with you” a nurse informed Tom. Tom nodded with a blank expression, not letting his eyes stray away from his son.

“Follow me, sir,” the nurse concluded as she led him out of the room.

“Mom, is Parker going to be okay?” Rosie inquired. “I hope so” you responded with a hoarse voice from crying. Rosie wrapped her arms around you, comforting you,

You were so used to you being the one waking up in a hospital bed. At first, dating Tom and eventually marrying him, put a huge target on your back. Never experiencing the crippling fear of losing the one you love most.

Meanwhile, Tom was conversing with the cops who were on the scene. “Sir, your son was a victim to an assault that happened earlier at The Luxe, a nightclub downtown,” explained one of the cops. They stood tall, attempting to act macho but failing. The notorious mobster scared them. The stories, alone, spread on the street was enough to make a grown man soil his pants.

One of them was a man around age 45, looked like he had a pension and drove a hybrid car. Old but tried too hard to be young again. The other was a woman, rather young, possibly new to force. Both of them oblivious to man they were questioning. Unaware of Tom’s business and status. “What? I don’t understand.” Tom was puzzled, he knew his son snuck out, but to a nightclub, why? “It seemed like the moment it was made known that he was a Holland, they let him in,” interjected one of the officers. “Alright, anything else? If you don’t mind I would like to get back to my family.” Tom concluded, bothered by their pestering. “Your son wasn’t alone?” “What?” “There was another body found at the scene. A female about 16 years old, her ID labeled her as Charlotte Owens. She was shot in the abdomen and found dead at the scene,” the officer informed Tom. “Did your son know this woman?” asked the first officer, holding up her driver’s license. “Nope. Never heard of her. I’m sorry to hear about her, wrong place wrong time I guess.” Tom couldn’t tell them the truth, he only needed to protect his family right now and if that meant blatantly lying to the authorities it was worth it. “Your son really had no connection to Ms. Owens?” asked the second policeman.

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“Mr. Holland, when we found your son he was covered in blood, not his own.” “What… are you accusing my son of murder? I’ll have you know I can have both your jobs in an instant,” Tom yelled, astounded at such an accusation.

“Sir, are you threatening us?” said the cops growing defensive. “No. Just making you aware of the situation. Tell Captain Reid I, Tom Holland, says ‘I’ll call him tomorrow, if you guys can’t do your jobs and leave me and my family alone”” Tom knew what he was doing. You don’t get to be the most powerful man in London by not having the police Captain in your pocket.

“We’re sorry sir, it won’t happen again,” the cops said, realizing they might have just made a very powerful enemy.

��I should hope so, if you have anymore questions here’s my business card and I suggest you don’t bother me again,” Tom concluded.

“Yes, sir. Have good rest of your night,” they said but Tom ignored them as he made a call.

“Tom? Do you know what time it is?” Harrison answered after a few rings, probably consumed by deep sleep.

“Haz I’m at the hospital.” Tom spoke with a somber voice.

“What? What happened?” Haz said all panicky. “Parker snuck out and got beaten up. A hit had to be on him. He was with his girlfriend. She didn’t make it.” “Jesus Christ. I’m on my way. Is it Kingston Memorial?” Harrison inquired. “Yes, also bring Henry I have a feeling Parker is going to need some moral support.” “Alright, be there soon mate.”

Parker was coming out of his deep sleep. His body begged for it, desperately needing to heal. He took quite a beating.

“Woah, woah. Where am I?” Parker asked, confused by his surroundings.

“Honey you’re at the hospital, don’t move you’ll hurt yourself.” You exclaimed. Parker soon realized everything that had transpired that night.

“They killed her,” Parker whispered as his eyes went cold. Every moment flashing before his eyes. One minute she was dancing, full of life and the next lying his arms dead.

“What? Who, honey?” You asked just relieved that your son was awake. “Charlotte.” Tom said walking in as you burst into tears at the vocalization of Charlotte’s name.

“What? Parker you need to tell me what happened. I thought you were in your room,” you pestered, only concerned about her son’s well being.

“I snuck out and my girlfriend got killed. What more is there to tell?” Parker said raising his voice and showing off his beloved Tom’s temper.

“I’m sorry. Charlotte just wanted me to be there to celebrate her birthday. I’m so sorry. If it weren’t for me she would still be alive,” Parker explained, tears slipping from his eyes.

“Shh baby, you can explain later. Just get some rest,” you concluded and Parker nodded in response.

“Mom, I’m gonna get some air,” Rosie said, wanting to be sick at the thought of Charlotte’s demise. She walked aimlessly around the hospital, making her way outside by the ambulance entrance.

Her breathing rapidly increased, she was hyperventilating. “Oh my god, oh my god,” she whispered to herself.

Collapsing against the wall, she sunk to the ground and brought her knees to her chest. Parker being the older sibling, knew more of the family business and tried to shield Rosie as much as possible. Not wanting to see her dad littered with blood after a hard day’s work.

“Rosie?” Henry asked with concern, seeing her sitting on the ground with tears streaming down her face.

“Hey, hey, hey. I got you. You’re okay. I got you.” Henry whispered bringing her into his embrace.

“Henry. I’m so glad you’re here.” She said, not letting go.

“Roo, you gotta tell me what happened? My dad wouldn’t say anything.”

“Parker got hurt when he snuck into a nightclub with Charlotte and she—“ Rosie bawled, her voice cracking and not finishing the sentence.

“It’s gonna be okay. Parker is okay right?” Henry asked and Rosie nodded in response. “Charlotte though, she…” Rosie having trouble finding the words. She knew the words but, the moment she said them they became 10 times more real. “Come on, Rosie, spit it out.” Henry said, trying not to alarm her. “She’s dead. She’s dead and I was awful to her.” Rosie stammered. “Oh my god. How?” Henry gasped, trying to wrap his head around the news. “She was shot. I know it’s not my fault but I can’t shake the feeling that I had something to do with it.” “Rosie you can’t think like that. It was an accident,” Henry whispered, comforting the trembling girl beside him. “Hey come here, I got you Roo. You’re safe with me.” Henry whispered pressing a kiss to Rosie’s forehead. She was actually starting to grow fond of the nickname, only when it was Henry who said it.

“I know this is a bad time, but I have to tell you something,” Henry whispered, trying to find the guts to tell this amazingly perfect girl the truth. “Yeah,” Rosie responded, eager for his response. “Rosie, I…” Henry tried to say but was soon interrupted with Rosie’s lips on hers. The kiss was soft yet full of passionate. Their lips melded together like two puzzle pieces. Both their eyes fluttered shut as euphoria consumed them, finally breaking away to breathe.

“I like you a lot, I have for awhile,” Rosie said, shying away from his face.

“Rosie, I really like you too,” he whispered, bringing his hand to caress her cheek.

“Really?” Rosie asked dumbfounded. “Yeah, what’s not to love,” he said and brought her into another chaste kiss. This time lingering longer as his lips brushed against hers. This was everything they both desired.

In the Parker’s hospital room, Tom and Harrison were conversing. Stuff was happening right under Tom’s nose at the estate and he was fed up with it.

“Who do you think it could be?” Haz asked, trying to get to the bottom of this before it blows up. “God knows who, I have countless enemies. Barnes, Roberts, most likely Carson,” Tom said, trying not to alarm, you, his sleeping wife or son. “Alright, I’ll inform the others to be on high alert,” Haz concluded. “We will have a meeting first thing tomorrow morning, I want everyone there.” “Yes, sir.”

“Enough Haz, you don’t need to be formal” Tom chuckled. “I know it just makes you laugh sometimes and you need that right now,” Harrison said, being the comic relief in times of crisis.

“Dad?” Parker whispered, coming out of his deep sleep.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you,” Tom exclaimed. “It’s fine. Can I ask you something” Parker inquired.

“Mmmhm,” Tom acknowledged. “How’d you deal with all those times almost losing mum?” Parker inquired.

“I won’t lie to you, I was a wreck” Tom explained. Seeing his son like this, brought Tom back to the time you were kidnapped and tortured. You two had only been going out for a year at the time and it was a huge turning point in your relationship.

At the time, Tom was in the middle of a turf war with James Graham, another mobster who predated Tom. You and Tom had just moved into together. Everything was smooth sailing up until that point. It was the night of your anniversary, going to the restaurant you went on your first date. You were dressed in a red, Tom’s favorite color not much of a surprise there, satin dress which hugged your figure perfectly. You had made your way to “Casa Nostra,” the little Italian restaurant that was very dear to your heart.

You sat down at your usual table with your usual drink, a gin and tonic, and fell in love with the ambience. Once in a while glancing at your watch, Tom was late. It was puzzling because Tom was everything and of those things was punctual. Tom was currently, stuck at the “office,” swamped with paper work.

“Vincent can you call Y/N? Tell her I’m sorry for being late and I’ll be there in 30 mins,” Tom asked one of his men. “Yes of course boss,” Vincent concluded as the phone suddenly rang.

“Oh, what’d you know, its her right here,” “Thanks Vincent, I got it from here,” Tom said grabbing the phone and dismissing him out of his office.

“I’m so sorry love. I’ll be there in 30 mins tops. Order what every you want to start with, may a suggest a bottle of Dom Pérignon. I promise I’ll be there. I love you,” Tom exclaimed hoping you would understand.

Who was he kidding of course you would understand. You were always so kind and considerate of everyone else’s feelings, he knew you wouldn’t be mad.

“Oh, no worries. I’m fine, just enjoying a few drinks. See you when you get here. I love you too. Remember don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you replied.

Drinking gin and tonic one after the another to pass the time, you had gotten up to make a phone call. 10 mins had past since you entered the establishment and your driver had dropped you off and stayed in the parked car. You made your way to the bathroom. Coming out of the stall having finished and washed your hands. In the reflection of the mirror, stood a tall figure one who looked like he could break your neck with one snap.

A gasp exited your lips as the assailant lunged toward you. Launching towards the bathroom walls, banging you head against the wall and the tile once your body hit the floor. All you heard were muffled screams you assumed belonged to the other patrons of the restaurants. Followed by several gunshots before you fell into complete and utter darkness.

You woke up to mind-numbing pain and throbbing pain to your head, your wrists fasten to a metal chair and wet, thick liquid dripping down the side of your face.

“Glad to see you are awake. Could I get you anything, water maybe?” Graham inquired tauntingly. “Fuck you, Graham. What the fuck am I doing here?” You yelled as you tried to escape your restraints.

James Graham had been a rival of the Hollands for decades. Always craving more power than there was to go around. The Holland’s enjoyed their freedom at the top of the food chain.

They were and are the most dangerous predator out there. When one of the less powerful predators gets a taste for blood, they won’t stop til they have decimated the rest of the population.

“Wow, who knew such a pretty girl like you would have such a mouth on her,” he quipped.

“Tom’s gonna come for me and when he does he will show no mercy,” you said, your voice tainted with hope.

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” he chuckled. “Why me? Why didn’t you just go after him yourself?” “I suggest you shut your fucking trap before I put a bullet through your skull,” He barked, slapping you straight across the face. Leaving a small imprint of his hand. Right before, he yanked your hair back, entangling all your strands in his fingers. All the pain caused tears to fall.

“I guess that seemed to shut you up. Better hope, your man hurries or he is going have to carry your decaying body out of this hell hole,” Graham taunted. “Why are you doing this?” you asked. “Your corpse would make Tom shatter. To get to him, I have kill you. You are his weakness. It will be the end of him, the end of Tom Holland,” he spoke with a tight grip on your jaw, leaving tiny bruises.

“Well, better get started cause one way or another you’ll be dead by sunrise.” He said, delivering a swift punch to your stomach. One after the other.

“I’ve had my fun. Boys, do you want to get a few licks in?” “It would be my pleasure, boss,” his men snickered as they made their way over to you. Alternating who punched and when. “Have your fun, but no guns. Tom needs to see the pain she felt. I’ll be upstairs.” Graham explained while leaving you alone with his men.

Meanwhile, Tom was finally free of work and on his way to enjoy a lovely night with you. A year spent together was really testament. He already felt so guilty for ditching you for 30 mins, he had some ideas of how he would make it up to you.

He arrived to a massacre at the restaurant. Not a single soul was found alive anywhere, they had all been shot. Searching for you, along with the other casualties, you were nowhere to be found.

Only explanation, you were taken by Graham. The lack of gravitas when it came to killing led to one person, James Graham. You were the only thing on his mind right now and Graham was behind it all. He quickly pulled his phone out and dialed the last person he wanted to see tonight.

“Oh Tom, what do I owe this pleasure?” Graham said cheekily. “Where the fuck is she, Graham?” Tom barked, not fucking around. “Sorry Tommy, I’m afraid you’re mistaken. Who?”

“Graham, I swear to fucking god if you hurt a hair on her head there will be hell to pay,” Tom gritted his teeth.

“It’s a little late for that.” Graham stated. “TOM!” You screamed in the background. “Let me talk to her,” Tom pleaded. “Alright, I’m not a monster. Hope she has some good last words for you now.” “It’s for you,” Graham said, holding the phone to your ear. “Y/N? Are you okay? Where are you?” Tom said with concern. He blamed himself for you being in this position. Sure, you had come from a mob family but, nothing like this happened. It was because of him. He was in love you, which made you his biggest weakness.

“I’m fine, don’t listen to him, I’m sorry we didn’t get our second date,” you said, trying to put Tom’s mind at ease. “You mean anniversary date. Oh… Baby, I’m going to find you. Trust me” “I do, I love—“ the conversation soon ended when Graham pulled the phone away and pummeled into your cheekbone, causing red to seep out. Only winces from pain and quiet sobs were heard on the other line.

“Aww, did you say your fucking marriage vows or shit? Too bad you’ll never see her in a wedding dress,” Graham snickered. “Graham, I’m coming for you and for your sake, I suggest you fucking run like the pussy you are,” Tom threatened as he hung up. He knew where you were thank to you subtle hint and he desperately needed backup. How could he go in there guns blazing when it’s just him.

“Haz, Y/N has been taken. Gather all the men I know where she is,” Tom said into the phone. “What? Where is she?” Haz inquired “She’s at the marina, our second date.”

Tom drove to where your second date was, the marina. He needed to know you were okay, the phone call didn’t give him much to go on. Haz and the other men soon arrived all in black SUVs.

“She’s in there. On my count. 1, 2, 3!” Haz said, instructing the soldiers. Tom let Haz take the lead on this one so he could focus on you.

Busting through the doors, guns went off a split second later. Flooring most of Graham’s men. Tom and Haz found you looking half dead strapped to a chair in the middle of the room.

“Love we have to get you out of here” Tom said, trying to run up to you until he was stopped by sound of a gun cocking against your head. Tears slipped as your came face to head with the barrel of a gun.

“Come any closer and she’s dead. Now drop the gun,” Graham shouted.

“Do you think I’m playing around. DROP IT!!!” Tom slowly put his gun on the ground, trying to stall enough for Harrison to be behind him.

“Duck!” Tom yelled, hitting the deck as Haz fired 3 shots. Striking Graham right between the eyes, and the chest twice. A thud soon followed and you let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. Tom rushed over to you, cutting off your restraints.

“Y/N. Oh darling, I’m so sorry,” Tom cried.

“It’s ok, you got me now, that’s all that matters,” you said growing more weak in his arms “We gotta get you to a hospital come on,” he said, wrapping his arm around you shoulder as he walked.

This was the first time Tom had brought you to the hospital. Who knew it would be the first of many instances. He hated hospitals, all the sickness that lingered in the air.

You had been in surgery for an hour, the doctors were in the process of fixing your internal bleeding. All those punches, ruptured one of your kidneys. Now you were resting in your hospital bed with Tom attached to your side, refusing to let go of your hand.

Tom had been a wreck, sure it was only two hours but the most dreadful two hours of his life. He knew you would be okay, but all he wanted to do was hold you in his arms.

“Hi Tommy,” you whispered, beginning to wake. “God you scared the fucking hell out of me, please don’t ever scare me like that again. I need to know you are okay,” Tom exclaimed. “I’m okay, I promise.” “Yes and you will be from now on…. Tomorrow Jared, my driver, will help you gather your stuff from the house. I’ll have someone else take care of the furniture. Do you have a place to stay?” Tom explained.

“What? Why are you doing this?” you said, confusingly.

“I love you Y/N, this is the only way I can guarantee your safety.” “Tom, don’t push me away.”

“None of this would’ve happened if it wasn’t for me. You wouldn’t be lying here half fucking dead. You should just forget about me,” Tom pleaded. “Hey, look at me. You’re stuck with me whether you like it or not,” you said, standing your ground. “Y/N, I’m damaged goods. This your chance, go live the your life without getting blood on your hands.”

“Tom, I think you forget that I already have blood on my hands. There is nothing you can say or do that would ever make me leave you.”

Tom knew in the moment, you were his and one day he might regret your words. Thank god you stuck around or he wouldn’t have the family he has today. You and Tom even still make it a priority to spend your anniversary at Casa Nostra.

Parker needed reassurance, just like Tom did when he asked you to leave him, after your kidnapping. Tom never wanted himself to be the reason for your demise. He could never forgive himself.

“Dad, I just don’t know how to move on from this. It hurts so bad,” Parker pleaded.

“She’s dead because of me. All I want to do is hold her. She didn’t deserve any of this,” Parker cried. “I know, it wasn’t your fault though,” Tom reassured.

“How is it not? The men specifically asked for me, I’m the reason she is dead!” Parker exclaimed.

“How do I make the pain go away?” he said, desperate for a quick remedy. “It will eventually, you just need time,” Tom explained to his devastated son. “No, what I need is revenge,” Parker said forcing a shocked expression upon Tom’s face.

“I’ll do it, dad” Parker concluded with a new found confidence.

“Do what, P?” Tom inquired.

“I’ll be the next you, be the next Holland that strikes fear.”

“I’m in, teach me to be the best fucking mobster this world has every seen.” These were the words Tom was wishing his son would’ve said a week ago, but there’s no time like the present. “It would be my pleasure. I always knew you had it in you,” Tom said rather excitedly.

“This is the only way I can avenge Charlotte. They won’t know what hit them.” Something in Parker changed. A switch had flipped in his brain. The innocent boy was now a shell of person, demanding revenge. He was out for blood.

Guns, Glamour and Goodfellas Series Masterlist

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Taglist: @thenoddingbunny-blog @adriannauni @dummiesshort

[paullicino]

Ten Years

Taken from my Patreon.

Ten years is a long time. It’s long enough for many things to change, but also long enough for everything to remain the same.

I remember ten years ago as if it were yesterday, as if it passed by in the blink of an eye, with light and shadow, textures and taste all as familiar as ever.

A morning after. Shocked faces. A phone call. Events barely believable, yet all too real.

Ten years ago, my then partner and I were living in a top floor flat off Tottenham High Road. It was sweltering in the summer and the downstairs neighbours played dance music at four in the morning. But the views out the back bedroom window were of valleys of rooftops, sprouting television aerials and summited in the winter by the briefest dustings of snow.

The sun was for the front of the flat. The moon shone into our bedroom.

I remember that sunlight in the afternoon, sparkling through the shifting foliage of the tall trees outside. And I remember summer most of all. August.

We had a tap. A faucet. A great, overwrought thing that our landlady was obsessed with. It was the best tap ever, she said. It was large, curved and heavy, the pharaonic headdress worn atop a newly-fitted kitchen of which she was so proud. Wasn’t it exciting that we had such a good tap?

We just wanted our bed repaired. Our home wasn’t finished when we moved in and we slept on the sofa for weeks. When the mighty tap was finally installed, it was too heavy for its fitting. It teetered. Along with poorly-mounted cupboard doors with handles that prevented other cupboards from opening, its practicality was an afterthought.

The walk up Tottenham High Road took me to the only two locations I ever really visited, the supermarket and the job centre. The supermarket provided us with affordable food (though I’d watched the price of many staples almost double over five years) and the job centre provided me, an unemployed person, the money with which to buy that food.

The job centre, which was now extra special and had been rebranded Job Centre Plus, did not provide anyone the means with which they could get a job. It spent almost all of its time providing people with unemployment benefits. Most of the thousands of Tottenham residents who poured through its doors would’ve taken a job if they could’ve found one, but the listings at the centre itself were usually out of date, irrelevant or in some other way misfiled. Most employers don’t want to list their vacancies at the Job Centre Plus because they don’t want to employ the kind of people who go there.

Out of the Job Centre Plus and the supermarket, which one do you think burned that August?

I have written before about my strongest memory of the Job Centre Plus, but here it is again. It was of an old foreign woman and her daughter trying to speak to a clerk. The old woman didn’t speak English, so her daughter was attempting to explain that the woman was looking for work and thus registering as unemployed to gain unemployment benefit. The clerk was trying to explain that the woman was too old to work and should also be on disability benefit. The daughter was trying to explain that they had tried to navigate those systems and that they were obtuse and broken. Her mother just needed money. To live.

(Ten years before, in the summer of 2001, I’d first looked at the cost of moving out. I looked at rents around my Hampshire town, at the cost of housing and at the wages I needed to earn. England was expensive, I decided. It sure cost a lot just to live.)

Everyone was trying to explain everything. The job centre mostly wanted to give people their money and get rid of them, because there were many more lined up behind.

My strongest memory of the supermarket was of the man outside with no legs. He sat there panhandling in his wheelchair almost every day of the year. Britain had just launched its latest Astute-class nuclear submarine, each of which costs over one and a half billion pounds, but it was still a country where a man with no legs had to beg outside a shop.

I thought about that man long after I left Tottenham. I think about him here, now, ten years on.

My partner went abroad to see family and I spent some of the summer restarting my career as a freelance writer. I was fortunate with the connections and opportunities that I had, none of which would ever be found at a job centre, and I spent a lot of my time writing either to find work or simply for practice. I was writing on the night my street burned.

It began before dusk and I came home to find enormous police vehicles parked outside, the sort that are mobile command headquarters. Chains of armoured riot vans surged north. I heard there’d been a protest outside the police station and that a car or two had been burned. I checked the news occasionally. It didn’t have much to add.

Police vans kept coming, though all other traffic had stopped. The roads were closed, blocked by the police, and the latest news told me that petrol bombs had been thrown and a bus set alight. The reports were sparse.

The police in England are really good at responding to riots. They turn up in great swathes, on horses, in vans, or on foot and armed with batons and shields. They have all kinds of exciting equipment to help them. A year before, they’d kettled schoolchildren protesting the huge increase in university tuition fees, surrounding and slowly crushing hundreds of them in Trafalgar Square and on Westminster Bridge. Footage emerged of them beating the shit out of kids or dragging people out of wheelchairs. Here they were now in Tottenham, ready for more.

I kept trying to find news. The police had cordoned off most of the High Road, which meant the journalists that were arriving had no ability to find what was happening inside the riot. Distant footage of fires was the best most of them could provide. As I remember it now, the BBC had one van inside of the police cordon and couldn’t broadcast out because its dish had been damaged. I also have memories of a single journalist, almost in the thick of a mob, asking rioters to give them a moment to explain why they were protesting, or wondering why on earth they might want to block a BBC camera crew who were trying to film them.

What an inane question.

I found the news I wanted. I found it via Twitter and social media. And it was terrifying.

Broadcast news had described a riot not unlike any other. But the still relatively new sphere of social media was overflowing with witness statements, photographs and the kind of low-quality video that phones captured back then. People across Tottenham were panicking as they described growing crowds on the High Road burning not only vehicles, but also shops and businesses. They were breaking into commercial properties. They were looting. They were starting more fires. This had begun half a mile away from my home and it was spreading outward. The post office burned. Landmark businesses burned. Local shops burned and, with them, the flats and homes located above.

The updates kept coming and it’s almost impossible for me now to try to describe to you not only the sheer volume of panic and distress that waterfalled down my feed, but also the sense of utter hopelessness that came with it. People beyond the High Road described not just the violence spilling into their streets, the fights and the hundreds of looters, the fires and the damage, but also how there was no one who could stop this. No emergency services responded. Their phones went unanswered or the lines were jammed.

I read update after update that echoed the same, basic fact, something which I still struggle to comprehend even now, something I’d describe as barely believable: No help was coming.

But the social media updates kept coming. Looters were turning up with empty vans and loading them up with everything they could take. Buildings were being destroyed. A whole estate was being evacuated.

The news provided by the BBC and its peers remained limp and languid, so I spent all night reading these updates, discovering more nearby shops were being gutted, or how the retail park near me was looted to the point of emptiness, and I watched as even my own view out the window became broiling crowds of countless restless and angry people. I remember one man walking off into the darkness with brand new flatscreen televisions under each arm, the police vans now long gone. The night was regularly punctuated by shouts, screams, thumps and sometimes what might have been explosions. The sirens were always distant. The helicopters came and went.

I don’t know where the police cordon had gone. It felt almost as if they had given up and let Tottenham run rampant.

The sun came up and from that back bedroom window I saw smoke rising. I hadn’t slept. The news was full of irrelevant speculation and so, at five-thirty, I put on my shoes and walked the High Road. What I saw was barely believable. Sometimes I met the stunned gazes of other people doing the same, sometimes I avoided any eye contact. I have kept a diary for a long time now and this is what I recorded (slightly edited):

“This morning at about 5:30, as the sun rose, I tried to wander through Tottenham to take some pictures. It became one of the scariest walks I've ever taken.

The atmosphere was tense and unpleasant. Columns of smoke snaked upwards and the High Road and several other streets were blocked off or packed with police vehicles, many more of which were endlessly arriving, some from as far away as Kent.

The nearby retail park was littered with debris and many of its shopfronts were smashed. Groups of people, perhaps gangs, loitered everywhere. While some areas were busy with police officers, others were neglected and patrolled by hostile looking young men.

I didn't end up taking many pictures. I kept moving. Depending upon where you walk, Tottenham looks like a cross between a blitz bomb site and the mess after a chaotic festival.

Something still feels very different. Tottenham has hardly been rosy at the best of times, but today the sunshine can't seem to dispel a strange chill in the air. I myself can't stop thinking of all the homes that burned last night. It might not be immediately obvious to many people, but above a great deal of those shops set ablaze were flats, often family homes for very poor people. Many of those who had little now have less.”

A day after those first riots hit Tottenham, they went nationwide. London wasn’t done and, for a week, many major cities in England played host to their own riots. Tottenham was totally locked down, but it was far too late. The disorder had moved elsewhere.

I remember telling a colleague I worked with that I wouldn’t be finishing something that weekend. He laughed at the news and imagined it would all blow over. He was from a much wealthier background.

Then, everyone started trying to explain everything.

The BBC caught up with events the way a great-grandparent catches up with technology, fumbling and frowning. Goodness me, they said, in their middle class, broadcast-trained voices, and they joined in with the three broad lines of discussion that emerged. One asked how this could happen, one asked why this had happened, and one was about how this would never happen again, because the law would be firmer than ever, the punishments and prosecutions authoritative and absolute. The police were ready for more. They were going to get water cannons. I imagine those work particularly well on kids and wheelchairs.

There was a lot of talk about punishment, including from the Prime Minister, who decided to stop being on holiday in Tuscany only after England’s third night of rioting. I wonder if he had imagined it would all blow over.

Sometimes there was talk involving the people of Tottenham themselves, but it was more likely to be talk about them. A lot of people in Tottenham are Black and have families that trace back to the very first Windrush immigrants of the late 1940s. One Black Labour MP said it was important to talk about their experiences in London, their economic situation and their history of treatment by the police. After all, the spark that had set these riots alight was a protest outside the police headquarters, subsequent to the suspicious shooting of Mark Duggan, a Black man, something that called to mind a similarly suspicious death of a Black woman that also precipitated Tottenham’s 1985 riots.

For some people, the discussion became about how Black people had started the riots and been the chief participants. This wasn’t reflected in anything I saw either on social media or with my own eyes, in person, on the night. But nobody was stopping to ask me what I thought or what I saw.

Not long after that first riot, my partner called me to check I was okay and to ask if those barely believable things she’d seen on the news were really as bad as they seemed. They were. I rode the bus up the High Road on my way to Wood Green, then later to Walthamstow, both of which offered me temporary job centres that took the overspill from ours, thoroughly gutted by fire and then looted of all of its copper piping. The bus crept past burned-out shops and homes. I don’t know where those people have gone.

Later that year, my partner and I discovered that our income was low enough that we were eligible for housing benefit. It took us so long to try to apply for it that we moved home before any progress was made. When I found enough work to support myself, I visited the job centre to sign off, as we called it, to close my file. I asked a woman at reception what I needed to do. “Nothing,” she said, as the line behind me wound down several stories of stairs and out into the grey autumn street. “Just stop coming. Stop coming.”

Winter came and things rustled in the walls. There was a long, tall hedge along the High Road and I would look out the window to see men using it as a urinal. I only had to live in Tottenham for around a year and a half and I have good memories from that flat, but I also remember a stifling and sad place to live, from which I was lucky to move on. Tottenham was never my home and I never had to stay there, but I certainly feel that I came to get a sense of the place.

After moving out, our ex-landlady complained that we hadn’t left the oven as clean as she would’ve liked. She hiked the rent 9% while we were staying there. She never fixed anything that broke and provided excuses instead of solutions.

I found more work. I taught games and narrative for a semester at a small institution in East London. One of the things I asked my students to consider was the stories and the experiences of people who weren’t like them. I asked them to share how often they had been stopped and randomly searched by airport security. “Not just at the airport,” one student reminded me. “On the tube. On the street.”

My life continued to improve in many ways, but I still remembered the man in the wheelchair. The BBC and many other media outlets continued to talk about poverty and race, but not always to poor people or to people who weren’t white. In 2014 I wrote On Poverty and one of the most surprising responses I repeatedly received from people was “I had no idea that it was like this.” A friend of mine tried to apply for support for chronic health problems and documented her many struggles, including being required to explain exactly how many times a week she suffered from migraines (“You said it was two or three times a week. Well, is it two, or is it three?”). The news regularly reported growing homelessness, rising use of food banks and the inevitable deaths of people who weren’t just failed by broken systems, apathy and a lack of understanding, but also simply too poor to be alive.

I feel like some of the people I knew didn’t like how I kept returning to these topics. I feel, even more, that they didn’t at all understand. I remember some of these people waiving off the Brexit referendum as it approached, certain the country wouldn’t vote to amputate itself from the European Union. I don’t think they understood and I don’t think they’d seen the unhappy England that I had, both as a child and as an adult. I think they’d only seen, and been, very comfortable people.

I think these people would call themselves open-minded, progressive and keen to make the world better. I’m sure they could explain those views. At length.

If I think of those people now, I’m quite sure they are all still very comfortable, ten years on. I also think there is still a good chance that man is sat in that wheelchair outside of that supermarket, though he could also be dead by now, again simply too poor to be alive. No longer able to watch the sun sparkle through tall trees, see roofs dusted with snow or catch the moon peeping through his bedroom window.

Such things aren’t for poor people. We still get frustrated when we give them benefits or find out they own mobile phones.

---

Ten years on, Tottenham is almost a dream, a memory where the details have faded and the edges have softened. I have moved countries, had the privilege of travelling through work, enjoyed many different creative opportunities and benefited from free healthcare that has addressed difficult, long-term health issues. I have rationed my life according to a tight budget, but I’ve never had to face the overwhelming, unending hardships of others that I’ve shared neighbourhoods and postcodes with. I cannot ignore these people because they have so often been one street away, visiting the same shop or riding the same train. They are not an abstraction, they are right there, ready to tell us all about their lives.

Ten years on, Tottenham has one of the UK’s fastest-growing rates of unemployment, the latest statistic in the region’s long history of joblessness and poverty. Many of its residents, like poor people across the country, live paycheck to paycheck, at risk of financial ruin should they experience a single upheaval. Ten years on, the most reliable predictor of success and financial stability in the UK (as in many developed countries) is now considered to be the circumstances of your birth. The idea of social mobility is more irrelevant than ever, with much of your destiny decided before you are even born. Ten years on, almost a quarter of the population of the UK lives in poverty.

Ten years on, continued austerity, government apathy and cuts to social services has meant that, yes, ten years really is enough time for everything to stay the same. Without change, the problems people face become generational, systemic. Some people tell me that the 1980s were like this for certain families, regions, populations. I didn’t know. We were doing okay. Perhaps I didn’t get it, didn’t notice it, didn’t want to think about it.

Ten years on, Mark Duggan’s family filed a civil claim against the Metropolitan Police and were awarded an undisclosed sum, after his death was officially ruled a lawful killing in 2014. Lawyers for the Duggan claim commissioned this in-depth report on the shooting, which illustrated many problems with the official police version of events.

Ten years on, the UK government is trying to curtain the right to protest. It commissioned a review that concluded that the country has no systemic racism. It wants to limit the powers of the Electoral Commission and has considered conflating the concepts of whistleblowing and leaking with spying, meaning those who leak information could be treated as criminals. It is increasingly intent on punishing those who might express dissatisfaction.

And ten years on, as we all know, wages have not risen to match the rising costs of rent, food, utilities or transport. It sure costs a lot just to live.

Finally, in 2018, the UN Special Rapporteur on Poverty and Human Rights visited the United Kingdom and did speak with many of its poor. The resulting exhaustive and damning report concluded that “statistics alone cannot capture the full picture of poverty in the United Kingdom” and that “much of the glue that has held British society together since the Second World War has been deliberately removed and replaced with a harsh and uncaring ethos.” It described harsh, ill-conceived and out-of-touch support systems devised and doubled down on by a government that not only failed to understand poverty, but that couldn’t even measure it accurately. It also predicted that these things would only get worse, and without any consideration of the effect of extraordinary events, such as a global pandemic.

The government described the report as “barely believable.”

I don’t think any help is coming.

---

There’s a question that sometimes bounces around social media and it asks people this: “What radicalised you?” As if there was some moment that changed a person’s political beliefs and rearranged their perspective on the world.

Here’s the thing. I feel like my perspective is from the floor, skewed and sore after I fell between two stools, always unable to find an identity amongst wider British culture. I grew up too comfortable, too spoiled and too well-spoken to call myself working class, but I was easily alienated by schoolfriends with multiple bathrooms and university-educated parents. My interests and my sentiments aren’t supposed to be working class, but many of my life experiences and even philosophies are. I know what it’s like to memorise Shakespeare and to explain themes in Romantic-era art, as much as I know what it’s like to fight government systems that are ostensibly supposed to help, to be unable to afford your own home, to walk into a supermarket and look at staple foods you still can’t afford. You think about Descartes and then you think about which dinner provides the cheapest way to keep your body alive.

When I was a kid I remember going to friend’s houses where they were too poor to clean the carpet, or seeing them lose a parent to lung cancer, or the time someone showed me a gun hidden in their brother’s car. As an adult I wrote to my politicians to ask them what they were doing about poverty, about education, about the cost of living. I went to protests and signed petitions and supported charities both practically and financially. I suppose I was trying to articulate some of the skills I’d learned from in some situations to articulate the experiences I’d had in others. Surely you have to do something.

I both resent and appreciate aspects of both classes and I imagine I’ll never work out who I am or what I’m supposed to call myself. But I do know there are vastly different worlds and vastly different experiences within British culture and that many continue to be overlooked even when in plain sight. And it’s what I find most frustrating.

If there was one thing I learned, if not one thing that radicalised me, it wasn’t simply that poverty never goes away, it’s that it always needs to be explained. There are always, always people who don’t get it, who don’t notice it, who don’t want to think about it or who will puzzle over it from a distance as if it were some transient mirage they can never hope to touch. Those in power will continue to make decisions about poverty that they do not experience, in spite of the fact that making financially comfortable people the authority on money is like making able-bodied people the authority on wheelchair access, like making men the authority on women’s bodies, like making white people the authority on racism.

And so, ten years on, here I am again, writing about Tottenham, about class, about poverty and about ignorance, and only from a slightly different angle. I will write about these things more, not least because I’ve already started another work on these themes, but mostly because I will always need to. I don’t imagine that, during my lifetime, the explaining will ever stop. I don’t imagine that our societies will give up on punishing people for being poor in a world where it is so often simply too expensive to be alive. And I don’t imagine I will have any more patience for people who imagine it will all blow over.

I refuse to let you middle-class your way out of this.

I don’t have any solutions to these enormous and complex problems. I don’t have exhaustive lists of who exactly to blame or where precisely everything has gone wrong. But here’s what I believe: If we don’t talk about poverty, and if we don’t listen to those caught inside of it, it will never go away, and there will be infinitely more Tottenhams.

[softlyjiminie]

black swan | three.

⇢ pairing(s): professional dancer!park jimin x figure skater!reader.

⇢ word count: 4.1K.

⇢ rating: 16+, mature.

⇢ genre: angst, eventual smut, fluff, e2l, fake dating!au, corrupted idol!au, dancer!au, figure skater!au.

⇢ summary: a life of skating was all you’d ever known, your heart craving the feeling of ice beneath your feet and the light brush of cool air against your skin under thousands of sparkling lights… what a shame, if only you’d known that one night, one accident could rip you from the life you’d grown to love, leaving your career in the unsteady hands of the prince of ballet, park jimin.

⇢ warning(s): please read for this chapter! heavy angst, social media bullying, mentions of drugs ( weed ), mentions of alcohol and drinking, angry jimin!

⇢ author’s note(s): hello my loves! sorry for posting this so late but i really hope you enoy this chapter. i might have to delay chapter four, for a special post in order of joon n koo’s birthday! love you lots.

⇢ previous | series masterlist | next

“park... you’re out, bail’s been paid.”

jimin rolls his shoulders at the call of his name, standing from his seat on the cold metal bench. he shakes out the blonde in his hair, deciding that the colour was too good and that he’d probably dye it a darker shade as soon as he was back in the safety of his penthouse. smirking, he grabs his discarded leather jacket... designer of course and slings it over his left shoulder— poking his tongue into his cheek as the officer unlocks his cell with a deep blush.

“you sure you don’t want to join me in here one last time sweetheart?”

the officer looks down, fumbling with the keys in her hand as a blush paints her heated face. “wouldn’t you get in trouble for that? another scandal wouldn’t be good for your career,” she bites down on her lower lip and the cat like smile on jimin’s face only grows wider— his forefinger and thumb touch at her chin, tilting her head up to meet his dark eyes as if he’s going to kiss her. “especially now that the paps are outside...”

he only lets out a simple tut, staring down at her with a hooded gaze. “you wouldn’t have a career if you opened that pretty little mouth of yours, sweetheart.” the cop falls silent, not having the chance to reply as jimin parts ways with her— collecting his belongings on the way out. inmates clap and cheer for him, although he’d only been in this station for a night, he’s already built up a reputation for himself around town...drunk driving, speeding, possession of drugs. park jimin was booked in for nearly all of it; but got away with it practically every time.

the sunshine from outside blinds the dancer, harsh golden rays warming his skin in the most irritating of ways. instead, he tilts his shades down over his eyes and way from the mass of bleach blonde hair that swoops messily over one side of his face. cameras are situated around the station, jimin knows that for sure, he can’t see them but he can hear the clicks and flashes from paparazzi that hide in bushes around them. they all want jimin for this week’s front cover, it’s only obvious that he’ll make the headlines for the fifth week in a row but who’s to say he cares? flashing a toothy grin as he flips the middle finger to sneaky photographers that pretend not to be seen.

“you’re so immature, jimin,” hoseok, his manager scolds, fixing the hem of his tight and light grey christian dior suit. the man himself is only a little ways taller than jimin, hair parted and slicked down with brown tinted shades that hide the tiredness in his eyes. hoseok is not that much older than jimin, but they’ve worked together long enough for jimin to consider the elder his family— or more like a pestering older brother. his manager pulls him into a sleek black van parked not even three minutes from the police station, the walk taking longer as jimin stopped to wave at fans. he was a dancer, a performer— it didn’t matter where he was, he always had an audience and he always appealed to them. “get in the fucking car.” hoseok seethed through gritted teeth, opening the door for his client, who only smiled mischievously as he entered it.

slamming the door, hoseok circled the vehicle and climbed in from the passenger  side. “what’s got you in such a sour mood hyungie?” jimin hums lazily, leaning back into the plush, cream leather seats of his mercedes while his manager tuts in annoyance— gesturing for their driver (and body guard), seokjin, to head towards the dancer’s gated neighbourhood. running a hand through his blonde locks, jimin’s caramel eyes light up at the sight of his day bag of which he carries around on a daily basis— diving in he pulls out a box containing a few of his rolled joints. grabbing one and bringing it to the flesh of his plump lips, jimin frowns darkly, at the lack of lighter in his bag. “the fuck his my lighter?”

“i took it,” hoseok mumbles simply, rubbing his temple with his free hand, the other twirling jimin’s pink lighter between his own slender digits. the younger leans forward in his seat, restricted only by his seatbelt as they make their way through the L.A traffic— making a grab for the lighter which his manager swiftly pulls away and pockets. “you’ve been acting up again jimin, it’s not looking good for you—“

the dancer in question lurches forward once more, making seokjin swerve ever so slightly. “give me the damn lighter hoseok.” jimin seethes through gritted teeth, the hand that launched at his manager now digging into said man’s head rest. anger flares up in the dancer’s chest— he’s just spent the night in a fucking cell and all he wants to do is have a few puffs of his joint so that he can relax a little.

but hoseok doesn’t budge, easily sinking into the comfort of his seat. “you can’t keep doing this ji,” he scolds, watching the scenery pass by through their tinted windows. “this is the third time in the last two months that you’ve gotten booked into a station for something...” the younger rolls his eyes knuckles turning white. the manager feels a temper tantrum coming on, from the way his client breathes hotly down his neck. jimin had never been good at managing his anger, no one had ever known why— he was a brat for no damn reason but hoseok sensed there was always more to the blonde, that’s why he took him in. “speeding? when you could have waited for jin to pick you up. not to mention how the company shouldn’t be putting their money towards paying for your bail—“

“money that i bring into that fucking company? they wouldn’t have it if it weren’t for me.” the younger points out childishly... and to be fair, he’s not wrong. people from across the world came to see park jimin perform— if they were lucky enough. his graceful movements and talent for following the music no matter how it changed was always something that entranced his fans. jimin was their biggest source of revenue and a major asset, one of the only reasons they hadn’t fired him yet— hoseok supposed. “i’m park jimin, shit...they need me!”

hoseok sighs in defeat as their bodyguard pulls into jimin’s gated neighbourhood. the brunette turns to face his client, a worn out expression pulling at his heart shaped face. “just think about it jimin, if you don’t fix up and don’t stop your bitch fits... it could be over for you.” hoseok hates to scold jimin like this but he also knows it important that he learns. he flinches when the dancer scoffs, begrudgingly pulling out the pink lighter and passing it to the latter.

the younger simply snatches the small device from his hyung’s grasp, brining his joint to his lips and lighting it as he slides from the car.

he didn’t need to think about shit, he was park jimin for goodness sake.

social media was an evil place.

jimin was used to all types of comments across his socials. he knew he was meant to be in the studio for practice, but he was too deep into the internet to turn back now. so more often than not he found that he was drowned is all sorts of praises and love from his fans, complimenting him on his skills, his physic and his oh-so-beautiful face but sometimes, if he looked hard enough— there were those full of hatred and malice, intended break down the souls of those they were targeted at, break the soul of park jimin.

‘i used to love jimin, but he’s getting caught up in all this bad stuff... we might have to unstan...’

‘he’s still a great dancer, but i’m disappointed in how he’s acted recently.’

‘why do celebs think it’s funny to get arrested? it’s fucking cringe especially since they can afford bail? lol no offence park jimin.’

each word cuts sharply at his heart, like knives, creating deep wounds. it hurts to read them, so much so that it brings stinging tears to his eyes but he doesn’t let them fall— he hadn’t in a long time. moments like these lead the blonde to believe in his hyung’s words, was he a has been? was his career coming to an end? familiar insecurities rot his brain, draining what was once left of the boy who loved to dance.

he takes a sip of the bitter, honey liquid that fills his crystalline glass, eyes blurring and throat tightening at the burn the alcohol brings. a filling pain to ease the hurt in his heart. ‘fuck,’ jimin thinks, he’s fucked and he knows it. the dancer wonders if he had been different had his brother not fucked up his life, the older park was probably off somewhere doing god knows what with who knows who and jimin can’t help but let his mind wonder to what he would be doing if his brother wasn’t there. if his brother hadn’t caused that accident. before that day, jimin only ever dreamed of where he is now— practicing hard wherever he was; the canteen in high school, his bedroom, the kitchen when his mother was making his favourite dish.

god he missed those days.

slamming his glass down onto his island counter, jimin stretches his arms above his head so that his black fitted shirt rises up— brushing his tummy briefly. the news hums from the TV in the background, as he sways with sleepiness. something about an accident, something about a skater...he’s not listening. sighing in defeat, jimin grabs the bottle of special edition brandy and takes a lengthy swig while he makes his way to his on-suite bathroom. the dancer’s nimble fingers brush through the roots of his overbearingly blonde locks, fisting them as he looks into the mirror with reddened eyes and a broken heart.

taking another sip of his liquor, jimin finishes the substance off with a warm, fuzzy feeling in his chest before throwing the bottle in the trash and opening his cabinet, reaching for the dark hair dye that sits on the middle shelf.

stopping his mercedes benz, jimin parks his car outside of hangsang studios, the dance company that hired the boy. his eyes that reflect black under the artificial lights of the street lamp flicker up to the company logo cast into the side of the towering building— a scoff emitting from between his plump lips. the door to his car opens not a second later, aeri, jimin’s girlfriend slipping into the passenger’s side with a huff.

she throws her practice bag onto the back seat, making the dancer flinch as he presses his forehead to the steering wheel. “practice started at five, you know that right?” aeri seethes, buckling herself in and pulling down the mirror, she fluffs her blonde hair— colour similar to the one the dancer once possessed as she insisted on matching. “of course you don’t, god sometimes i wonder why i’m even with you...”

her words do nothing to the dancer as he sits up in his seat, pressing his foot into the peddles as he sets the gears into drive. ‘i sometimes wonder the same thing...’ jimin can’t help but think, sourly. he loved aeri, he did, but she was draining to be around— obsessed with the idea of being at the top, even if it meant criticising her lover at every point. he’d grown numb to her abuse by now. “i’m sorry, ri... i’ll be at practice next time.” he says instead, knowing very well that speaking his thoughts will only set the girl off. the streets are clearer than they were earlier in the day, fewer cars allowing jimin to pass through lanes with ease... his eyes focus on the road, but he longs to take in the scenery— just for a moment. to feel like the world has stopped in place. “i’ll make it up to you, babe.”

aeri scoffs, wrapping her arms around herself after she pokes jimin’s arm. he slows the car at the stop sign, watching with thin patience as the signals change from green to red, colour by colour. the girl turns to face him, lips drawn into a scowl and small hand taking a fistful of jimin’s darkened, navy locks. “dying your hair? is this what you skipped practice for? when will you take this showcase seriously jimin? fucking hell.”

the pinch in her tone irritates the life out the aforementioned dancer, so much so that his shoulders pick up while he begins to drive again. aeri wasn’t always like this, there was a time, back when they were trainees where jimin would have tripped over his feet to get her to notice him, they were usually paired for dancing events— closeness eventually leading them to dating. but now, she fancied the idea of being a star rather than the blue haired boy himself... the infamous new york showcase had always been her dream and jimin supposes he was only a stepping stone to that path. his name being a direct lead there, his money an added bonus. he knew that skipping practices made her mad, maybe that’s what why he did it— to get back at all the horrid words she’d spouted at him in the last few years.

“— and i swear, if you don’t clean up your act, i’ll leave you and find a new dance partner—“

jimin tunes back into her words, an empty threat that he’d heard from her many times before— looking into the rear view mirror he catches her humid gaze before making a turn towards her house. “i know baby, i’m sorry...i’ll do better, let me make it up to you, yeah?” he mumbles absentmindedly, using words that he knew would satisfy her appetite to being him down until the next time. “i’ll buy you that bag you wanted, hm? or those dance shoes you were after... will that do until i’ve caught up with dance?” aeri pulls at her hair in frustration, reaching behind her for her dance bag as she kicks her feet and screams like a petulant child.

“pull over!”

jimin does as he’s told, pushing his hands through his hair as anger rises in his chest— rattling inside his body as if asking for permission to break free. aeri waits for cars to pass before opening the door and storming out, not even giving her lover time to react. the blonde girl whips out her phone, texting someone jimin can’t see before the dancer’s wound down his window.

“aeri, come on doll, let’s not fight.” he tries to reason with her, but the will to keep her close has gone from her voice as she looks up at him with a fiery gaze. her chest rises and falls with anger, causing jimin to roll his eyes and bring his head back into the car. “you’re really gonna walk home?”

“no, my new dance partner is coming to pick me up because he’s not a lazy bum like—!”

jimin doesn’t stay to hear the rest of her cold insult, having had just about enough of her attitude, reversing the car and heading in the direction of his home, his anger still simmering brightly.

“well well well, if it isn’t our handsome ji. look who’s finally coming around!”

the boy in question rolls his eyes despite the little smile that plays at his lips, he’s glad to see that hoseok hyung’s mood has sweetened slightly— his expression matching the brightness of the L.A sun that highlights the blue of jimin’s hair, yet causes him to squint at the same time. he pulls his shades over his eyes, ignoring hoseok’s outstretched hand and going in for a quick, apologetic hug. the manager knows jimin isn’t one for displays of affection, but knows him well enough to recognise an apology from the younger when he sees one.

but jimin’s warmth retreats just as fast as it came, the younger pulling away as if hoseok’s new alexander wang suit has has scorched his tan skin. jimin seems to be grumbling as he slides into the van which seokjin drives and buckles himself in. the annoyance the blue haired boy felt from last night has yet to fade, but he knows he has to keep his anger in check— hoseok texted him early this morning about a meeting with the board... which usually never means anything good.

the car ride is mostly silent, the slight hum of the radio in the background as jimin rests in the back seat. there were few times he’d ever met the board, the first being after his accident, when hoseok had recruited him. the second being when he’d made it big, when the CEO had told him he’d made it big just like his parents would have wanted and the third, well...that would be now. seokjin pulls up to the tl the hangsang company building, quickly helping the dancer out before heading with into the building with hoseok by their side.

walking through the company building, jimin attracts a lot of attention— many have said that he exudes an intimidating, strong aura but the dancer only reckons it’s because of his name...after all, his family does come with a reputation. rookies and senior dancers alike blush and bow as jimin makes his way towards the head office, his slicked back blue hair shines under the false white light and reflects off of the black shades that match his jeans,  chelsea boots and turtle neck.  of course, the boy knows that he looks good, fingers coming up to fix the denim jacket he wears but his stride slows when passing his usual practice room— gaze faltering as he spots aeri tangled with a younger dancer, a rookie who jimin recognises as choi san. the familiar emotions from yesterday crawl up his spine and mix with the blackened jealousy that blooms across his firm chest— but jimin doesn’t have time to linger on his feelings as hoseok ushers the trio into an elevator and presses the button for the tenth floor. aeri looks away from the dancer just as the door closes.

“it’s not looking good for you jimin,” the CEO, explains— he goes by the name of mr.chan. jimin himself admits that he hasn’t been listening since the moment they entered the room but he picks up the tone of disappointment in the CEO’s voice.  shaking out his dark locks, jimin scoffs likely and rolls his shoulders— feeling annoyance build up behind his eyes... he’s got a headache now, which is only worsened by hoseok giving him a scolding glare.

“jimin don’t.”

he sits up at the second mention of his name, jimin knew not to test his manager at this time and also knew hoseok would give him the scolding of a life time if he didn’t listen. tilting his gaze to the CEO, jimin finally tunes into mr.chan, even if he doesn’t like what he’s saying. “you’re our prized dancer park, a household name...but you’ve had fewer performances then any other dancer this year, your recent bad reputation is...driving clientele away,” the old man lets out a wheezing cough, making jimin grimace. mr.chan was a greasy old man, with oily hair and beady eyes. he was harsh to the eyes, jimin supposed it was lucky that he was rich or mr.chan was doomed to be single for the rest of his life. “not to mention the bail we’ve been paying, you’re more of a burden than an asset at this point.”

“you’re fuckin’ kidding me right?” jimin rises from his seat like the anger that boils and bubbles through his veins, having enough of the ugly man that rattles on before him. all he can think about his punching the CEO square in the face. “you  fucking need me here. if im a burden to you, i’ll cut my loss and join another company that wants me. they all want me. i made this place what it is and i’ll tear it right back down. you need me.” the dancer seethes, pointing his finger right at the CEO’s face, mr.chan and his fellow associates swallow thickly, because after all— jimin is right. his raw talent alone is what built this company up from what it was, and anyone would kill for the money that he brings in however he may act.

the panel of staff mr.chan has with him, are rendered silent as is the CEO himself— who are they to challenge park jimin? but a lowly assistant speaks up, grabbing the attention of the congregation. “but raw talent will only last you so long...after that, what will you have? a pile of scandals?” she says meekly, as if no one would hear her— but the scowl on park jimin’s face tells her otherwise. usually, she’d have been fired on the spot for talking in such a manner— jimin might have even had a field day with making her run errands for him but mr.chan and his associates need an argument against the dancer’s case, promptly taking  the assistant’s statement and running with it.

the blue haired dancer sits back in his seat with defeat as the group of fat heads before him smile and cheer as if they’ve just discovered wine. although hoseok chooses this time to interject, sensing jimin’s temper tantrum reaching its peak once again. “but we have a solution, don’t we mr.chan?” the manager cuts through their wheezing laughter in a way that would make you think he was the boss around here. “remember what we discussed?”

the old man nods suddenly, almost in fear as he gestures to the assistant to pass a file to jimin. honeybrown eyes narrow as the girl makes her way over with a brown file full of documents— a sense of nervousness emitting from her. the dancer knows it’s partly because everyone is scared shitless of him and his reputation, the other part is that he’s damn well attractive up close. jimin bites down on his lower lip, looking the girl up and down before he snatches the file from her and opens it up — revelling in the way she blushes with embarrassment.

“we’ve proposed that you start dance therapy with a world renowned physical therapist, min yoongi,” hoseok explains slowly, knowing that anything mr.chan says from now will surely set the dancer off. the aforementioned male grips the arms of his seat, knuckles turning white as he tries his best to suppress another outburst and listen to his manager. “he’s excellent at what he does, the best of the best— he’d be sure to get you back on track...”

jimin scoffs, staring daggers into the spot between mr.chan’s unbearably bushy eyebrows. if looks could kill, he’d be dead within an instant. “so you want me to join a beginners class? do i need to remind you of who the fuck i am?”

“no, you’ll have private sessions,” his manger says lowly, grabbing the younger’s attention. “we want him to motivate you, we’re not denying that you’re a phenomenal dancer jimin, you’ve just been heading in the wrong direction for a few years...”

all this new information causes a feeling of unease to reside within park jimin, the changes that are to come don’t sit well with him... but with hoseok’s words from a few days ago swirling and twirling with his thoughts like a waltz, jimin can only agree to their proposition. “so, what’s the catch?” he whispers now.

“they’ve got another client in south korea ,  we’re thinking of bringing them over too—“

“well then do it!” jimin stands, raising his voice, the conversation is too tedious and all he wants it out. he needs a drink or a smoke or something other than people telling him what he was or what he isn’t. running a hand through his navy locks, the dancer grabs the file and begins to head out, not caring about what’s left to he said. but before he has a chance to storm out, hoseok slips a piece of paper into his hand and lets him go with a saddening smile.

“it’s the name of the client,” he whispers.

and so with that, jimin strides out of the office, the company building— not even bothering to greet seokjin properly as he jumps back into their black van. his bodyguard promptly drives him home, knowing better than to question the silenced dancer, who unfolds the paper to reveal a name.

‘LN YN’.

⇢ taglist ! ( comment, like or dm to be added! )

@periminkle​  @ggukkieland​   @aishots​ @ownthesunshine​ @codeinebelle​ @taeass​ @trviahope @singular-itae​ @preciouschimine @yoongismykink @idiakh @honeyspillings@kimsdior @chimshoe95​ @cypherft-v @tangledsparkles​ -@ultraanonymousey @rjsmochii​ ​  @thenoblr @icedoutmywristtitanic​ @chiminies-noona​ @mrsfortune1306​

[cmzucchero]

a love for the ages.

summary: g/n reader wants to take a break from spencer, but things turn out to be more difficult than expected. uses (altered) lyrics from cornelia street, death by a thousand cuts, and i wish you would by taylor swift

requested: yes!! (and requests are still open!!)

warnings: tv 14 cussing, bar scenes and mentions of alcohol

———————————————————————

You make your way back home from the restaurant, alone. This did not surprise you, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t disappointed. This was your two year anniversary. You knew his job came first, and that was one of the things you loved about him- he was loyal. Unfortunately, you picked a man that had an aggressively demanding job he needed to be loyal to as well.

You sat in your car, passing streets, and stopping for red lights. You hopelessly look up and ask the traffic lights if things will be alright. Subconsciously, you think you hear them say ‘I don’t know’. The red glow fills your car as you quietly chuckle. ‘Great Y/n, now you’re really losing it.’ you think to yourself. After some time, you finally make it home. As soon as you walk into the door, you take off your shoes and throw the keys onto the small coffee table a few feet away from you. Finally, you sit down and let out a long sigh. You start listing all the times Spencer had stood you up, neglecting to inform you the plane was late or that there was a case.

Spencer did not like technology, and the thought of texting rarely crosses his mind. However, that did not mean you never crossed his mind. There is hardly a moment he doesn’t hear your voice instructing him to grab something to eat, that he would get more done if he rested, that it’s not okay to mix patterns with his shirt and tie; or that he passes a spot that somehow mimicked your aroma perfectly. 

He had a damn eidetic memory, so he cannot believe he forgot about the date. By the time he remembered, he had already boarded the plane and lost cell service. ‘Okay, well, at the rate of velocity the plane travels at, we will be landing by 10:30. The flower shop closes at 11 and her favorite book shop closes at 11:30. The flower shop is 13 miles away-” Spencer’s thought process was interrupted by Derek asking if Spencer could move so Derek could get some “grub”. Spencer just moved his legs over in response, allowing Derek to cross. 

“Hey, Reid, what’s on your mind?” Emily asked from across Spencer. “I- uhm- I forgot to let Y/n know that I can’t make it to our dinner tonight.” JJ and Emily share a look. “Spence, isn’t this your two year anniversary?” JJ asked, her voice laced with sympathy and bewilderment. “I know, I screwed up.” “Yeah, you can say that.” Emily said with a bit of a chuckle, but losing it as soon as she noticed Spencer’s reaction. “How do I fix this one?” Spencer asked a bit too helplessly. The girls shared a look again, ending when Emily looked back at the Doctor. “I’m not sure you can.” He just hopes he never loses you, he hopes it never ends.

It was no surprise you became bitter after listing off all of the times Spencer stood you up or stretched you thin. You began to pack your bags and leave Cornelia street, Hopefully you’ll be done before he even knew you were gone. That plan did cut out the rough confrontation.

He told you about his co-worker’s divorce, and you felt for the guy. His wife did not give him a lot of room to wiggle. Now you’re starting to think that was Spencer warning you what this job entails for the romantic partners of the team. You stood looking at the half full suitcase that laid on your bed you share. You want to run and hide, but he makes you turn right back around. 

If you were right, Spencer should be over Kentucky. This gives you an hour and thirty minutes to make a decision. You needed a break, but this boy has had everyone leave him in this way, but he answer was clear… you’ve been stretched too thin.

The plane finally landed and Spencer did not take any time to get out of the plane and run to his car.

“I mean, yeah that plane ride was a bit too rocky for my liking, but didn’t pick the kid for a fear of heights type of person.” Rossi said while watching Spencer. “Hell, I would be running like that too if I had an angry Y/n to come home to.” Derek said smoothly walking to get his bags. Rossi made a “I know that story” face and followed Derek. 

You didn’t even hit the tunnel before your phone started to ring. You knew it was him without even glancing at the screen. You decided against answering and just turned around. You waited a little bit after making your decision from earlier to test the universe. If Spencer came through that door, you would sit and talk about how you felt, but if not…

You made it to the door and started to look for your key. Spencer pulled open the door before you could fully get the key out. Your face remained unfazed, but you saw how full of worry he was. You’d be just lying if you said you didn’t feel a wave of guilt wash over you. 

You push past him and stand between your breakfast bar and living room, facing him. He shuts the door and begins to apologise. You have to fight back the scream you felt bubbling up. You knew it was unfair, but damn it, tonight was supposed to be special! 

You see flowers and a book lying on the same coffee table you had thrown your keys onto a few hours before. Damn, he’s playing all the cards in his hands. 

You notice he had been quiet for a minute, so you turn and walk over to the window on your left, above the couch. Spencer watched you climb onto the couch and crawl out of the window, onto the fire escape. 

You guys took every chance to sit out there for reading, eating, talking, anything. It had a nice view and had a way of calming the both of you rather quickly. Spencer followed you out. You both sat on the roof in silence before he said “I’m so terrified of you walking away, Y/n.” You sat, calming yourself and trying to find the best answer before you settled on “I think we both need to step away for a minute. Nothing permanent yet. I just think that would be the next step for right now. I just can’t pretend everything is okay when it’s not.” Neither of you looked toward each other, but you both knew you shared the silent tears streaming down your face. 

Not much time passed before you got up, crawled back into the apartment, grabbed your stuff and left. You wanted to say something more, but you couldn’t bring yourself to it. Saying goodbye was already death by a thousand cuts. You drove back home with tears in your eyes, threatening to spill over. You had trouble sleeping that night due to all the flashbacks you kept getting of your time with him. You knew this was probably not the best decision, but at this point he probably thinks you hate him because he still has no idea what you never said. 

Spencer walked into work the next morning, clearly off his usual game. Derek and Emily realized this and started saying some things that they knew Spencer would correct. To no avail, the Doctor still stared blankly at the papers on his desk. “Hey Pretty Boy, what’s got you head in the clouds?” Derek said, now turning his body towards Spencer. No response. Derek bumped into Spencer's chair, snapping him out of his trance. 

“Wha-what?” 

“Reid, are you okay?” 

Derek asked now matching Emily’s worried features. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Has Hotch said anything about a new case?” Derek’s eyebrows are still furrowed as he slowly says no. After his response, Spencer stood up and announced he would be going to lunch early, and walked off. 

“It’s 10:38.” Derek said more to himself than Emily. Emily nodded in response and walked over to JJ’s office.

Before your shift at the library, you went back to Spencer’s apartment and grabbed anything you thought you needed. Hopefully he wasn’t there. Why would he be? I mean he’s been out and at work for about two hours. You stuff some clothes, hygiene products, and books into a bag. For the past couple of years, he had always been at the back of your mind. Hell, he still is. Your heart, your body, your hips, your love..you're trying to find a part of you that he didn’t touch. Your time, your wine, your spirit, your trust..trying to find a part of you he didn’t take up. You begin to rethink your decision until rushing out before you have an unwelcome meeting with Spencer.

Spencer didn’t quite know where to go. His body and mind just followed his feet. Before he knew it his nose was hit with a musty and sour smell and his eyes had to adjust to the contrasting dark room. He was at a bar at 11:15 in the morning. ‘...great’ he said to himself. He slowly walked up to the almost vacant bar and climbed up onto the seat. 

“Hey sugar, what are you having?” Spencer slowly looked up “Just a water please. I’m still on the job.” The bartender curtly nodded and slid a glass of water and a small cookie to Spencer. She sweetly smiled and turned around to top off the only other customer he saw in the bar. Spencer took a sip of the water and stared at the cookie, starting to smile a bit to himself. The sweet bartender came back and started talking to Spencer. 

“So who was it? You still got a job that you’re loyal to. You seem too put together to be a regular day drinker. Wasn’t a death. So, who was the one who broke your heart?” Spencer looked at the bartender for a few seconds before answering. 

“I can’t blame them if I’m being honest.” He said, diverting his eyes down to his glass of water. He chuckled to himself about what the bartender said about his job “And yeah, you can say I’m loyal to my job. That was the thing that caused the ‘break’” The bartender looked Spencer up and down “The only job I can think of  that is that demanding would be the police force, but, no offence, you don’t look like you belong there.” Spencer laughed, picking at the cookie. “Yeah, I’m sorta the police. I figure out the psychology behind why people kill and my team and I help solve cases with that knowledge.” The bartender raised her eyebrows. “Intense” was all she said. Spencer nodded and dropped his eyes back down to his water. 

After an hour or two, Derek walked into the bar. He looked around and moved towards Spencer. It wasn’t that hard to spot him since he was the only other person at the bar besides a trucker on the other end. 

“Hey kid, you okay?” Spencer didn’t acknowledge Derek. They sat in silence until Spencer finally said “I gave them so much but it wasn’t enough.” Derek nodded and ordered a glass of water for himself. He knew they would be there for a while. 

“Do you want my advice?” Derek said after a sigh. ‘No, I really just want her back.’ Spencer thought, but decided to remain silent. They stayed in the bar for a bit longer. 

“Sure.” Spencer said meekly. 

“You’ve got to win her back.”

 “And how do you suppose I do that, Derek?” a more snappy response from the Doctor. 

“Well, you could go to the library. She’s working today, right?” 

Spencer nodded but was still confused about how going to their work and suffocating them when she wanted a break would win them back. 

“I’ll go with you and we’ll say we need a book for a case.” Derek said, hopeful. 

Spencer sighed. “They’ll know it’s an excuse.” 

“No they won’t. What makes you think they will?” 

“I have an eidetic memory.”

“And you’ve never read twilight.” 

“What?”  

“You’ve never read twilight. If they asks, we say that one of our unsubs is mimicking something from it.”

Spencer was quiet for a moment, then gathered his coat and bag and made his way for the door. 

“Alight!” Was all Derek said, grabbing his coat and following Spencer.

 You were talking to your coworker about Spencer, not noticing the bell ringing from the front of the door. 

“I mean it hasn’t even been 24 hours but I already miss him too much to be mad anymore.” you say, shaking your head, thinking you were being just a bit too pathetic. 

Your coworker tried getting your attention by tapping her pencil rapidly. She wishes she chose a  better distraction cause you kept going on while the certain FBI agent kept getting closer. Suddenly, Spencer ducked behind a bookshelf, leaving derek looking around confused after realizing his friend disappeared. 

“I just have a feeling this will be the kind of heartbreak time will never mend, you know. I don’t know, I just wish he was right here, right now, and it’s all good again.”

“Well your last wish is granted!” Your coworker whispered, slightly agitated.

Your eyes grew as you looked around, looking for Spencer. The only thing you saw was Derek Morgan approaching the check-out desk with an alarming smug look on his face. 

You felt your face heat up and turn red while you grab the book he slid over the counter.

“Hello Derek, what brings you in.”

“Oh, Pretty Boy and I have to get some books for a case.”

Your heart dropped. ‘Shit! He’s in here!’. Alarms start going off in your head. Derek leans over the counter and whispers “Don’t worry, I don’t think he heard.” Your eyes widen, but you are slightly relieved knowing Spencer didn’t hear your pathetic rambling. 

You clear your throat and ask if that was all Derek was getting. He looked around, what you guessed was him looking for Spencer, and nodded. “Good bye, Pretty.” he said with a wink, then turned around toward the door. You continue to watch and see Spencer practically run out of the aisle closest to the door, following Derek out. You can’t help chuckle, despite the pain in your heart. 

“Thanks for the warning.” you said to your coworker, Anne, while you were still facing the door 

“I tried to tell you!” 

“Yeah, sure” you chuckle, finally turning towards her.

“You wanna grab a drink tonight. No offense, but it seems like you need it.” 

“Jee, thanks. I will take you up that offer.” 

Anne was the only person you thought would have room to have you as a roommate until you find another apartment. You felt bad for barging in, but you didn’t think your car would suffice. Besides, she owes you for all the shifts you picked up. 

Spencer ended up going back to work with a stupid book and a large dent in his pride. The rest of the day was slow. There was no case and the other members apparently took most of his files. He didn’t argue with them, though. He was drained and thankful they took that load off of him. He finished his stack about an hour before he was supposed to leave, but Hotch allowed him to leave. He felt weird about going back to the bar, so maybe he’ll just camp out at his apartment. After a moment of thought, he decided just to ride around in his car. He knew the apartment would remind him of you too much. It’d be like sitting in a haunted room, waiting for a sign of you coming back.You haven’t even been gone for 24 hours. How could he feel this raw and vulnerable?

“What are you wearing?!” 

“Uhh, some clothes.”

“Those aren’t clothes for the bar!” 

“I mean they do sorta meet up the dress code. I’m not trying to get any guys. I don’t want a rebound. Just want to forget for a while.”

“The only way to really do that is with another guy, Y/n.” 

“No, Anne. By the way, you’re wearing two different earrings.”

“Oh- thanks!”

Anne rushed back into the bathroom while you stood in the middle of the living room. You felt a bit awkward, so you pulled your phone out of your jeans. ‘What does she mean ‘these aren’t bar clothes’?’ you thought. You were wearing jeans, converse, and a jacket over a shirt. What else are you supposed to wear? 

You were broken from your thoughts by Anne walking out and hollering. You two weren’t very similar, whatsoever, but she was your closest friend in D.C., besides Spencer, but that doesn’t really count right now, does it? Anne was ushering you out the door with her, only pausing to lock her apartment door. You had no idea how this night was going to play out. 

“C’mon, you came here to forget- shot.”

Anne was persistent trying to help you forget Spencer. You would’ve complied if you knew that you getting drunk wouldn't be enough. Once the morning came, you would be hit with the realization that he was not yours. 

You endured a few more shots before sneaking away from Anne. You left her in a booth while you climbed up into a bar stool. 

“Hey hon, whatcha want?”

“Just a water please”

The bartender gave a nod and slid the water over. She tended to a few other customers before she circled back to you. 

“So what’s got you in the slumps?”

You’re a bit taken aback from her blunt demeanor, but at least she wasn’t giving you shots.

“I asked my...my boyfriend? I don’t know, I asked for a break.”

“And now you’re upset?”

“Yeah, I am. Sounds so stupid, but I think it’s too late to go back to him. I just got so frustrated! He’s more loyal to his job than to me. I mean, it’s a noble job, I’m not that upset about that, he just doesn’t communicate well!”

The bartender looked like she knew something when you talked about how Spencer was loyal to his job. You brushed it off as her being familiar with the same situation. 

“I don’t think it’s too late. I actually think he might be just as down in the dumps as you are.” 

“I don’t know. What makes you think that?”

“Cause there was a tweaky little guy in here earlier today. Eileene gave him a glass of water. I was eavesdropping from the booth. He barely talked- just poked at his cookie.” 

You felt your heart start to race. Spencer was upset! ‘Of course he is, idiot.’ you cursed yourself. 

You looked back up to the bartender, thanked her, slid a 10 across the bar, and rushed over to find Anne. 

Spencer had been driving for a while now and he figured he should probably brace himself to enter the apartment. 

He felt a painful ping in his chest when he passed the street the apartment complex rested on. All the memories started flooding back in. The dinners- cut to the break up. The Doctor Who marathons- cut to the breakup. All the whispered questions asking what someone meant in a movie- cut to the breakup. He knew he wouldn’t be able to pass the bathroom without smelling you. 

Spencer opened the door and stood in the doorway for a minute, taking in the picture. You weren’t cooking, or dancing to Dean Martin; you weren’t lying on your stomach, reading; you weren’t hunched over your laptop, writing; and he didn’t hear your soft snores from the bedroom. It was colorless, silent, and empty. 

After a few shaky steps towards the living room, he shut the door. He felt like a stranger in his own apartment. Without you, it was so bland and different. He couldn’t stomach any food, and he had already completely marked out the idea of going anywhere near the bathroom for a shower. 

Spencer fell onto the couch and just stared. Your shoes weren’t by the door with your socks kicked several feet from them. Your keys were missing from their usual spot. Your presence was gone. And until yours came back, Spencer’s was gone.

You have two choices. Keep your pride and learn to live without Spencer, or, you would swallow your pride and go back home. Between the pain in your heart and the rain, you chose the latter. 

He was upset, he skipped work, he came into your library. You stopped in your tracks. They had a case. He shouldn’t be home. He wouldn’t be there. If he’s not then maybe that’s just the universe- ‘No, Y/n, last time you thought the universe would choose for you it was wrong. It’s the thing that got you into this shit show.’ You began to walk again, quickening your pace every block you pass. 

Spencer didn’t know how much time had passed when he heard a knock on the door. He slowly got up, trying to piece himself together for Derek or anyone else on the other side of the door. He had gotten to the coffee table when he heard keys jingling. His entire body halted, then jerked forward. He swung the door open as soon as you stuck the key into the lock. 

You and Spencer stare at each other before, in unison, you practically leaped forward. You missed his smell. You have gone weeks without seeing him, but you never missed him as much as you have in these 24 hours. Spencer felt his spirit recharge the longer he held onto you. It made no sense to him, but he didn’t question it. He just wanted to stay like that, with you, forever. 

“I probably smell like a wet dog.” you say, muffled, into his chest. 

Spencer let out a laugh and pulled you out, arm length away, and still holding onto your shoulders. “Yeah, but I don’t really care right now.” You both break into ear-to-ear smiles while he pulls you back in to shut the door. He wanted both of you to stay in that apartment forever. 

Both of you awkwardly stood in the hall between the living room and kitchen. 

“I’m sorry.” you practically blurt out “I was just mad and childish. I wanted to be alone but I didn’t necessarily want to break it off. I think that was the anger. I don’t know. I just want that to go away. I’m sorry-” your rambling was cut off by spencer. 

“Y/n, it’s in the past. It’s over now. You’re back. I’m back. It’s fine.” 

You weakly laugh and just step back into him, tucking your head into his chest. He wraps his arms around you.

Spencer had always said it was a great love you two shared. You’re just so glad that the pages are still being written.

AN: Hello, thank you so much for reading!! I hope you liked it!! I always accept constructive criticism!! This one was a challenge! Between making 3 breakup songs have a happy ending, and all the technical difficulties, it was a bit hectic, but SO MUCH FUN TO WRITE!! I love challenges, so if you have any requests, send them my way (guidelines are in masterlist)!! Hope everyone has a day/night!!! <333

[wu-sisyphus-gang]

Motion Sickness Chapter 63

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"Well, are you?" I asked Jasper.

"Am I what?" She returned from her place by the counter.

"Going to shut down the strikes. She made some pretty good points about the Grimm," I said. I leaned on one of the tables, my massive sword handle extending over my head.

"No… I told you we aren't even in charge of the strikes really. It's a bit of an avalanche that's carrying us along. And if we don't get on board we'll be left behind," Jasper returned. "I'm not saying that she didn't have any good points. And maybe the only way to get real change going is with the elections. And Robyn Hill is basically a shoe in over Schnee. Especially down here in Mantle. Money can only buy you so much. Might be for the best if things were to die down."

"But you're not sure," I affirmed.

"How can I be? Nobody's sure. It's the Cetra condition. The Happy Huntresses are about defending Mantle, though. They've been at it for a while and they've done some real good. Maybe they're right about this too. I certainly don't think the military will shoot on the crowd but if they do it would be bad."

"The Happy Huntresses don't seem to like me which is a point in their favor."

"Oh pssh. None of that. You do fine."

"So, I'll just come by again later?" I asked.

"Yeah, really sorry about this, cutie." She winked. Her fox tail swished around in the air behind her in a brownish-red and white flare.

I ignored that last bit.

Neo tugged on my sleeve from her position by my side.

"What?" I asked her. "Want one of their drinks?"

She held up a finger to her lips as though deep in thought. Then shook her head.

"Then I have no idea what you want." I turned back towards Jasper. "We'll be back later. I'm going to go scope out this Adam Taurus and the protests. I might end up having to kill him after all."

"If you say so. See you later tonight."

"Yeah well no promises, especially if I end up in a fight."

Neo and I strode out and mounted my motorcycle. "You are being a needy bitch today, Neo. What's up with you?"

She shoved a finger in out of a rounded hole made of her other fingers. "Not happening. Didn't happen. I would remember something like that."

I was like seventy-five percent sure. Maybe a hard seventy.

She shrugged at me, somehow making the gesture teasing. An 'if you say so.'

"I do say so." And I did. It did not happen.

No matter what she herself implied. I would remember. I would know. Sure the night before was little more than golden blurs. And sure I somehow ended back up at the motel with all my armor and gear.

Anything could have happened after I really started drinking and the morning when I woke up. Anything but that, that is. The warm memories I felt were probably from The Den not from you know… sex… with Neo.

I rubbed a hand over my face hard.

"Neo you're fucking killing me. You know that, right?"

She grinned and nodded.

"Yeah well even if it happened once it's never ever happening again. I'm too fucked up to be doing that level of drugs again, that was a mistake. I don't know what I was thinking. I'm also too fucked up to be having sex with you."

I looked down at her as she frowned and slapped me on the arm.

"No points against you. You're drop dead gorgeous. But, well, tough shit," I returned. "For me and for you."

I revved up my motorcycle. Neo straddled behind me and flickered into a disguise for while we were driving. She was wanted, more so than my own form. No reason to give some patrol-man a reason to pull us over and start calling for backup.

And she couldn't exactly cover every camera we came across while driving. There were too many on the main roads and we went by too fast. So this little disguise helped.

She was still gorgeous in her double, with bright green eyes and dark black hair, just as long as it was when she was in her normal form which was to say waist length. Neo had that otherworldly angel-esque appearance some hunters got after a few years with aura.

It was a cure all to wrinkles and blemishes and left the user looking out of this world. Neo was no exception with her tight stomach being exposed and her muscular, relatively long smooth legs in those heels propping up her butt. Her short stature didn't detract from her beauty.

Huntresses, man. They were just like that. Like they came from another planet. Maybe I was a bit like that too, though. If I could be so arrogant. I'd had aura most of my natural life. Tall, blonde, and huntsman, I recalled a conversation in GaiLong I had with an old man about it. He told me not to be dense. I attracted more than my fair share of looks. More than my fair share.

Ruby had been like that. Beautiful like a little angel. Her hair and eyes stood out unnaturally even amongst huntresses. Yang, of course, was staggeringly gorgeous with her blonde mane of hair and lilac eyes. Weiss had a sort of pristine crystalline look to her that had drawn me to her immediately. Like she was multifaceted. Like a cut diamond. Blake had that bookish appeal but translated over to the huntress side of things it made her stand out in any crowd.

Pyrrha… well it went without saying with Pyrrha. Her emerald eyes and bright red hair flashed behind my eyelids every time I closed my own. She haunted me, Pyrrha Nikos did.

Even Jasper had started to have a bit of that. Stomach and face like a supermodel and long legs to boot.

Huntresses, man. Ain't nothing like 'em. Aura was a hell of a drug. It turned people into angelic beings.

But Neo was no exception. When I first arrived at Beacon I thought I'd have been lucky to have sex with someone as gorgeous as she was.

Now the thought only filled me with a slight sense of dread. A mix of betrayal and hurt welled up from deep inside me. Even though I had no right to feel that way. My feelings about it weren't valid. Not then when I'd first arrived at Beacon, all my feelings from then were fake. And not now when I was cruising around like a monster.

I rolled up on where the miners were picketing. It was near the open pit mine I'd been at for the bombing. They'd lined up around it, eight or ten people deep. They were armed with  protest signs and little else from what I could see. They had no weapons.

Could Ironwood really open up and fire on a crowd like this? Would that really solve the negativity problem or just make it worse? I could see it now, a swarm of Atlesian Robots mercilessly breaking up the protest with sleek assault rifles.

I thought it would make things worse. For sure, for sure but my opinion hardly counted for squat, did it.

By the crowd there were police officers lined up around the perimeter. They probably had standing orders to leave the crowd be but break up any fighting. They looked nervous. As they should before a mob like this.

The people were baying for change.

From the protestors' signs they were demanding safe improvements to their work and higher wages. Nothing crazy, at least in my opinion. In my estimation they would get it. They deserved it. These people weren't hunters. They hadn't signed up for danger. They wanted their working environments to be safe so they could go home and see their families every day.

There was nothing crazy about that. Nothing insane. These people already should have had that. Mining should be one of the safest occupations. It could be done right. It didn't have to be a dangerous, well, a minefield. Save that for the hunters.

I guess the collapse of this mine, artificial or not, had been a bit of a breaking point for the people. I trolled around the crowd for a few hours. Traffic was ground to a halt in places as the protest spilled out onto the streets, blocking vital arteries of city flow beyond the capacity to reroute. It backed up traffic for miles and miles. It was unbelievable.

It was a mess. I could confess that. But it seemed like an easy enough decision at the top level. Capitulate, and nobody would have to get hurt. Of course if old man Schnee cared more about people than the profits his company could pull in, then people wouldn't be protesting, would they.

It was hard to see him winning the election to the council with open picketing happening against his company but Atlas got a vote too and they were separated from all this. One of the benefits of keeping the people of Atlas and Mantle segregated.

It was gross but effective. Keep the different stakeholders in different places and there would be no need to capitulate. I didn't hide the disgust I felt and let it roll out onto my expression. Jacque Schnee could keep his company rolling the way it had been and become a council chairman. He could have his cake and eat it too.

pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq

I never found Adam Taurus.

It wasn't exactly a point of shame for me either. The entire Atlas military couldn't find me but then again I was driving around in broad daylight with my own illusionist. It made me wonder if Adam had his own illusionist. Like maybe someone like Emerald Sustrai. She was an illusionist too.

What I managed to do instead was drive around and observe the absurdity of the crowd for a few hours. If I needed to find Adam Taurus bad enough I would use Aurum. Not drive around lost.

Still it was good for me to see the crowd and feel their negativity for myself. It was easy to talk about it and have it all get lost on you what ten thousand angry people really felt like against your skin. Or aura. Whichever. They felt mostly the same to me. Maybe it was my short lifespan with a relatively long period of having my aura activated but I could hardly tell a difference.

I could feel Neo riding behind me with her cruel cold. I could also feel the crowd. Blazingly hot. Burning me up. Throngs of people fired up over a common reason. A common goal.

I wasn't much of an empath but even I could feel the negativity. Ren had always been better than me at that. Ruby had been too. What did it say that I was able to feel the negative emotions rolling off the crowd like a tsunami?

It meant that even a layman could probably notice it and pick up on it. The walls of Mantle had probably been under twenty-four seven assault by the Grimm. Meanwhile Atlas rested above, safe and sound. Connected to Mantle only by shallow guide wires for the gondolas and trams.

A shallow spider web that connected the two cities. Never crossing, never overlapping, but allowing the transference of people and ideas.

They probably felt none of this rage. Atlas was an island in a sea of negativity and Grimm. Albeit a floating island but an island nonetheless.

How could two places so close together feel so disparate? Was this how the segregation had remained mostly in place for so long? How long has things been like this with Mantle's red hot rage and Atlas's grey cold apathy?

It unsettled me, the stark difference between the two.

I shifted on the bike and Neo scooted down closer to me. She kept a single arm around me and under my plate.

"Well Neo, what do you think? Think we should cut this off and kill Adam Taurus?"

Was I just hunting for a reason for me to kill someone. Maybe. Salem was driving me mad. I at least had that as an excuse.

"Of course killing Adam Taurus won't end this. We'd need to get that Dyne guy. We started this, though. We're responsible for it, to one degree or another."

"I feel bad. Last night I was getting wasted in The Den and this shit was happening down here. You couldn't even tell how bad things are from up in Atlas. All the people down here, if you even care to look and see them, just look like ants."

I rolled back up on Seventh Heaven in the evening. There were more cars parked outside than normal. I marched up to the place and walked inside with a jingle of the bells.

It was relatively crowded. It had all the members of Avalanche inside, looking as they did before with their red bandannas. Then it had another man in a white mask, red hair and a long katana. He had the horns of a bull on him.

There were two more guys inside. A taller white skinned gentleman with a white shirt, green trousers and a green vest with red trimmings. He had only one arm. The other was cut off at the elbow with red bandages around the end. He had a wiry tail like that of some kind of big cat.

Another man was in there but his opposite arm, his right, was cut off at the elbow. He was taller, taller than me, with black skin and black hair.  He had thick brown boots and a brown vest with green trousers and a darker brown under shirt. He had a thick bushy bear tail.

Everyone turned to look at Neo and I as we walked in. We were the only humans in the room.

"Cloud…" Bisque said in greeting.

"What're these humans doing here?" The man in the white mask gestured his blade forward at his hip towards me.

"We invited them, before we knew this meeting was going to happen," Jasper said.

The man with the katana growled at me. I stared him right down back. It would be inaccurate to say nothing scared me, but not this asshole.

"He worked with us. He's a mercenary who helped us blow up the mine. He fought the Turks. He's cool," Wenge said.

"You did that?" The taller dark skinned man asked.

"I did." I nodded.

"Why would a human do that?" The masked man asked.

"Money. Information. Take your pick," I shot back.

"I don't like your attitude. And I do recognize her. She's Neapolitan. She used to work for Roman Torchwick."

"She works for me now. You got a problem with that then we can take it outside."

He growled and stepped forward towards me. A hand held him back and his chest from the man without his left arm.

"I'm Dyne. This is Barret," Dyne introduced. "We could use the help of a skilled merc. The picketing is losing steam already. We need to set a fire under Schnee's ass."

"Avalanche was telling us about another operation, one to sink an SDC freighter," the man without his right arm continued, Barrett was his name. "Make them beg for the miners back."

"They told me about it. I recommended that they wait," I said. "I take it you gentlemen want the operation to go ahead?"

"That's right." The man with the sword said. "If you think you're up for it. If they think a human like you can be trusted."

"Avalanche has one of my retainers." I pulled my pipe out and lit it. I made myself look comfortable.

"Oh Cloud can I get you anything to drink?" Jasper asked.

I looked down at Neo. She nodded. "Just one of those house specials for Neo. I'm good." I'd had enough to drink the night prior. "And who's this?" I nodded at the man with the Katana. "The rest of you were polite enough to introduce yourselves."

"I'm Adam Taurus."

"Ah," I said. "The man on everybody's mind. I might get paid to kill you tomorrow."

He grabbed his sword but he didn't draw it.

"Is that a threat."

"A little." I exhaled smoke in his direction. "It's the truth. Think you can take me, Taurus? Wanna dance?"

He growled at me.

"I, for one, like you, Cloud. What was your last name?" Dyne asked.

"Strife. It's Cloud Strife."

"Well I think we just may be able to work together. Avalanche has your fee? You'll do this op for us?"

I smoked and nodded. I looked over Dyne's head at Avalanche. They were giving me pleading and grateful looks.

"Should be cinch," I said. "We can discuss my payment later."

pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq

-WG

[crackedoutgiraffe]

“Hang on. You’re gonna be okay. Keep breathing.”

Request: “Hang on. You’re gonna be okay. Keep breathing.” by @theselilwonders

A/N: I’m not a firefighter so some of this may be wrong, but it’s fine.

Warnings: Angst

Pairing: Jack Gibson/Reader

Word Count: 837

* *

Three months. You had been in Seattle working with Station 19 for three months. You had your fair share of dangerous calls, but none as bad as the one on April 17.

“Ladder 19 and aid car 19, 733 Cherry Street,”  the speaker’s voice rang through the firehouse. Everyone was in the beanery prepping that night’s dinner. 

“That’s the third alarm,” Hughes dropped the knife she was using to chop some onions. Everyone sprung from their seats and ran to the garage. You quickly grabbed your gear and hopped into the back of the truck. The drive was hectic. There was too much traffic for a Thursday. You pulled into the parking lot of a hotel and saw the utter chaos. There were firefighters and police officers running around. Everyone ran to find Maya and get their assignments.

“Y/L/N, Gibson, you two help search and rescue,” she pointed toward the building. 

“Let’s go,” Gibson ran toward the burning building and you were quick to follow. The main lobby was filled with smoke, you could barely see your hands in front of you. “Seattle fire department, if there is anyone there please call out.”

“Over here,” a small voice cried from the corner of the room. Jack ran over to her and lead her out of the building. 

“Seattle fire department, please call out!” you wandered around the lobby until Jack came back.

“We need to get to the higher levels,” Jack ran toward the stairs and headed up to the second floor, you followed suit. He started to knock on doors and call out. 

“Seattle fire department, you need to evacuate,” you called from floor to floor. By the time you reached the fourth floor, you felt the heat. “We’re getting closer,” you shouted to Jack who was a little ways in front of you.

“I can feel it too,” he nodded. You two continued to make your way up the stairs until you saw the orange flames from the window.

“Bishop, the fire is on the sixth floor, and spreading fast,” you leaned into your walkie.

“Keep looking for civilians,” she ordered. Jack opened the door to the sixth floor and walked away from the flames. 

“Seattle fire department,” he knocked on the doors as you walked. You could hear the building creak with every step you took. 

“The structural integrity of the building is compromised,” you raised your voice.

“We need to get out soon,” right as he turned around to head back, your only escape was blocked.

“Jack,” you gulped and backed up. 

He grabbed your hand, “it’s ok, we’ll find a way out.”

“How much time do we have?” you were starting to freak out. You were trapped in a burning building.

He checked his tank, “ten minutes.”

“Bishop, our exit just got blocked,” you made sure you followed protocol and radioed into command.

“Can you get to a window?” her voice was shaky.

You looked at Jack who was starting to panic, “we can try.” You walked over to Jack and grabbed his shoulders, “can you get that door open?” you pointed at room number 628.

“Yeah, yeah,” he breathed out and turned toward the door. The flames were fast approaching and breathing was getting more difficult. Jack kept kicking the door, but it wouldn’t budge.

“Jack,” you started to slide down the wall as your vision got blurry. You could barely see him rushing over to you.

“Hang on. You’re gonna be okay. Keep breathing,” He was trying his best to keep you responsive but it wasn’t working. You blacked out and he returned to kicking the door. He eventually got the door open and radioed to Bishop his location. He brought you into the room and waited for the ladder. When it arrived he handed you off to another firefighter and climbed down.

You woke up in an ambulance on the way to Gray-Sloan memorial. You had smoke inhalation and may have had brain damage. When you got to the hospital they gave you a head CT and were given oxygen. Once they finished running all their tests, you quickly fell asleep.

When you woke up you were greeted by Jack, “hey,” you sat up in your bed.

“Hey, sorry I freaked out in there,” he sighed.

“Sorry I passed out,” you giggled. “Did you get the fire out?”

“Yeah,” he moved so he was sitting at the foot of your bed. “I wanted to ask you something and I think now is as good a time as ever.”

“Shoot,” you tried to fix your hair to make yourself more presentable.

He looked down at his fidgeting hands, “Would you like to go on a date with me?”

You placed your hand on his, “I would love to.” The two of you talked for a while before he had to get back to the station. When he left you noticed that you couldn’t stop smiling. Someone had a crush on their colleague and you weren’t very good at hiding it.

[originalhybridloverfics]

Good To You - CH 24

A/N: I'm sorry for the insanely long wait but I hope the length of the chapters makes up for it!

Updates are really slow for me, I have some family stuff that came up, if you follow me on tumblr or twitter you probably already know about it, and on top of that I got sucked into another fandom that has consumed me.

I want to thank everyone who is still reading this story despite the unbelievably slow updates.

Genevieve and Celeste stroll through the cemetery. 

“Oh, I remember this cemetery. Hmm. Hasn't changed a bit.” Genevieve mused. 

“I've been coming here over a century, wearing one face or another,” Celeste replied. 

~*~ ~*~ ~* ~

1919 

Genevieve approaches a woman kneeling in front of a tomb in the Lafayette cemetery, praying to her ancestors.  

“Clara Summerlin, will you come on?” Genevieve complained. “We're gonna miss everything.”  

The two walk over to where a crowd of witches is standing around a bonfire, playing conga drums and watching as a witch dance around the flames. Papa Tunde walks out with an albino python around his shoulders, which he hands to his twin sons after clapping in order to quiet the crowd.  

“Told you. Every witch in the Quarter is here to see the great Papa Tunde,” said Genevieve. 

“Witches of the French Quarter, thank you for your welcome.” Papa Tunde addressed the crowd of witches. “It is good to be among people of the faith. I, too, practice ancestral magic, honoring those who walked the path before us. From them, we draw strength. And you will need strength, for a great darkness is coming. The city your forefathers left you is now overrun by pirates, beasts, and vampires.” 

Papa Tunde takes the python from his sons and throws it into the fire, and many of the witches gasp in surprise and fear. 

“I practice other magic, as well. Sacrificial magic, channeling power from the lives of my offerings.” Papa Tunde explained. “I use this strength to vanquish my enemies, and I will punish your enemies for their greed. In return, you will accept my family into your coven, and me as your leader.” 

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ 

1919 

Two men enter the room and join Elijah and a police officer at a table where a meeting was taking place.

“Gentlemen, make yourselves at home.” Elijah greeted. “Mayor O'Connell appears to be running late, but there's much to discuss, so I shall begin.”  

Klaus walked down the stairs to join them. “One moment, please, brother. You know how much I enjoy these illicit, little gatherings.” 

“Do not be troubled. Despite my brother's reputation, I can assure you, we've invited you here to broker in peace.” Elijah assured the men. “You have my word.”  

“And, lucky for you, my brother always keeps his word,” Klaus told them. “You two are from the Guerrera crime family, a brutish pack of thieves and killers. And that's nothing compared to what you become on a full moon, is it?”  

“Yes, yes, yes. Of course, a bite from your kind is not lethal to an Original. Conflict between us would not end well for you at all,” Elijah cautioned. “Let's state our proposal here. My brother and I control the ports of the city, but with Prohibition soon to be the law of the land, there'll be a certain uptick in the kind of federal presence we prefer to avoid. Therefore, I'd like to suggest a system whereby, under our supervision, of course, the Guerrera family can traffic alcohol into the city of New Orleans for a profit. We would still be in charge, but our rule would remain a secret.”  

Papa Tunde walks into the room with his sons following behind him.

“This all sounds very good, but tell me, how will it benefit the witches?” asked Papa Tunde. 

“I am sorry.” Said Elijah. “This is a private meeting.” 

“Yes, for kings of the city, but I, too, am a king, and I have rules,” replied Papa Tunde.  

“I'm impressed. You're either quite ambitious or quite mad. What's your name, mate?” asked Klaus.  

“I am Alphonse Bellatunde Delgado, Papa Tunde to my followers, and I come to ask that the witches be granted fair tribute for allowing your existence in our city.” Papa Tunde responded.  

“Are you suggesting that you speak for the French Quarter witches?” Elijah questioned.  

“I do now, and I expect our future negotiations to go very smoothly.” Papa Tunde answered. “As a guarantee, I brought a gift. I await our next gathering.” 

A small leather case is placed on the table. Papa Tunde and his sons leave. Everyone else gathers around as Klaus lifts the lid on the trunk to reveal a head inside with a symbol carved into his forehead. 

“Well, I suppose we'll need a new mayor,” Klaus said.  

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ 

Marcel walked into the Abattoir Courtyard Davina and Josh beside him. 

Marcel grabbed a table with Davina and Josh. Davina was supposed to be meeting with Sophie at Caroline’s request to start searching for a way to save Katherine. 

Most of Marcel’s guys weren’t happy that Klaus was now in charge and Marcel appeared to be following his lead without question. And were shocked to see Davina alive and well having believed she was dead after learning the truth about her and Marcel’s connection with her. 

Diego sees him enter and approaches. He walks over to the table Marcel had chosen.  

“Hey, Marcel, maybe you know what's going on. Klaus ordered us to meet here, and now he's a no-show.” he looked at Davina. “And how are you alive?” 

“Caroline,” Davina answered simply.  

“Klaus has a lot on his hands to deal with. Give him time.” Marcel told him.  

“Like what?” Diego challenged but before Marcel could answer. Klaus enters the room with Caroline and on his other side is Thierry.

“Dearest brethren, your attention, please.” Klaus’s voice ringed loudly through the courtyard. “No doubt, you're all surprised to see Thierry Vanchure, who's supposed to be rotting in the Garden for the crime of killing one of our own, and I personally decided to issue him with a pardon.” Klaus declared. “I hope you'll all welcome home Thierry.”  

Thierry smiles and gives Diego a hug. 

“Welcome home, man,” Diego told him.  

“Now some of you may see the difference with Caroline.” Klaus continues, pressing his hand to her lower back and the other resting on her stomach. “It turns out the wolf Hayley who I had believed to be carrying my children was working with the witches all along and had stolen my children from their true mother. Now they are back where they belong and the witches will soon pay for what one of their own has done.” 

Caroline forced a smile before moving toward Marcel’s table, ignoring the stares of disbelief she was receiving. “Davina, thanks for coming.” 

“You said you needed my help,” Davina replied. 

Caroline frowned, tilting her head at the younger girl. “You know you don’t have to help me just because I helped you, right?” 

“Caroline, you saved my life.” Davina countered. “I owe you everything.” 

“No, you don’t,” Caroline told her. “I didn’t save your life so you would feel indebted to me. I want you to live your life how you want. I do want your help but I don’t want you to feel obligated that you have to. You can say no.”

Davina smiled. “I know, that’s why I want to help you. You're not like everyone else.” 

“As long as you know you have a choice.” Caroline gestured to the stairs. “Let’s go see Katherine.”

Davina smiled and linked their arms. 

“You too, Josh,” Caroline called over her shoulder as she started up the stairs. 

“Coming.” Josh quickly followed. “Hey, Caroline, any chance you have some blood bags lying around. I haven’t eaten all day..” 

Marcel tuned out the sound of Josh's voice turning to Klaus as he took a seat across from him. “You're in a good mood,” Marcel said to Klaus. “You must really love the fact that Caroline is the mother of your children.” 

“It’s definitely a gift,” Klaus responded. “But before I can truly celebrate this turn of events I have responsibilities that I need to tend to.” Klaus turns to address the crowd of vampires. “The witches have gone too far with their actions against Caroline. Actions they will pay for. However, since their Harvest failed, their magic will soon be gone forever. Now there has been a debate, on whether to kill them or keep them on their toes. I, however, want them dead, every last one. Diego, I wonder if you might lead a rousting in the cauldron. One that ends in blood and carnage.” 

Diego smiles and starts to plan with the other vampires. 

Marcel smiled. “As much as I would love to shed some witches' blood, especially after everything they put Davina through, I do have another girl to see so I will be taking a personal day.” Marcel stood and left. Confident that Davina would be fine in the compound with Caroline there. 

Klaus' eyes narrowed, wondering where Marcel was headed and who he was going to see. Almost everyone he knew was at the compound. 

Diego and the others looked up at the sound of multiple voices and a group of men, women and even a few children walked into the compound. 

Klaus smiled at Zach and the other wolves and walked over to them. “Caroline has been expecting all of you. She’s currently occupied with helping someone who doesn’t deserve saving but until she has a moment free why don’t you get to know the place and divide up some of the empty rooms amongst yourselves.”

“We will be staying here?” Zach asked speaking up on the behalf of the wolves who were more than a little surprised.

“Caroline has insisted that you all stay with us and what Caroline wants she will get,” Klaus responded, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

“What the hell is going on here?” Diego walked over, glaring darkly at Zach and his group of wolves. 

“I’d like you to meet Zach and the rest of my pack,” Klaus smirked. “They will be staying here at the compound. Indefinitely.” 

Diego's eyes darkened with hate. “You’re kidding, right? They terrorized the Quarter for centuries. It’s why Marcel ran them out of town.” 

Zach stared Diego down. “Wrong pack. We don’t run from anyone. Not anymore. And we only came to New Orleans once we heard of Klaus’s children.” 

Diego scoffed as more vampires gathered behind him. 

“What he says is true. Zach is of my bloodline. Not the New Orlean wolves and they are welcome guests in my home and every single one of you will treat them so or face my wrath.” Klaus’s voice hardened like a steel blade. 

The other vampires started yelling out their protest. 

“Quiet.” Klaus thundered, eyes flashing, a growl emitting from deep in his chest. 

Diego glared but was wary. “You expect vampires and werewolves to co-exist? You’re crazy.” 

The other vampires' protest increased. 

“Maybe so,” Klaus smirked. “But you will work together, starting today. Zach here will be joining in on the witch hunt.”

Diego glared but said nothing. Klaus was in charge and as of right now there wasn’t a thing he could do about it. 

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ 

Katherine looked over at the door as it was opened, feeling Elijah squeeze her hands in reassurance. 

Caroline walked in followed by a girl who couldn’t be more than sixteen and a young male not much older than Caroline. 

“Caroline,” Elijah greeted. 

“Sorry to interrupt but I was hoping to check on Katherine and introduce her to Davina.” 

“And why do I need to be introduced to kids?” Katherine raised a perfect brow as she sat up more in the bed. She had been feeling weaker and weaker. It was only a matter of time before her body completely gave out on her. She didn’t want to think about it, refusing to think of the fear that came with knowing you were going to die. 

She hated it. She was Katherine Pierce, sick, frail, weak, was not the way she was supposed to go out. For the last 500 years, she had clawed and kicked and screamed to get everything she wanted to make it this long when she had a man like Klaus Mikaelson intent on killing her. 

“Because Davina here is going to save your life.” Caroline wrapped her arms around Davina’s. “So if I were you I would be a little nicer.” 

“Nice isn’t in my vocabulary.” Katherine retorted. 

“Expand your vocabulary because without some witchy interference you're going to die soon.” Caroline stepped further into the room. 

“And you care so much about my well being, why?” Katherine asked. 

“For telling me the truth. Let’s not pretend we’ve ever been friends because it would be a lie. Still, this is my way of repaying you for once doing something when you had nothing to gain from it.”

“I wonder what Elena would say about you trying to save me?” Katherine taunted, trying to push Caroline’s buttons. 

“I don’t much care what Elena has to say about it.” Caroline retorted. “This has nothing to do with her.” 

Katherine smirked. “I gotta say, I’m warming up to you. Getting out of Mystic Falls suits you.” 

Josh cleared his throat, making Caroline realize she hadn’t introduced him. “Oh, and this is Josh.”

Katherine looked him over. “He comes across as a puppy,”

“Puppy?” Josh wasn’t sure if he should be offended or not. 

“Caroline,” Elijah interjected. “Just how do you intend to save Katherine's life. She is getting worse by the day. I’m not sure how much time she has.” 

“Yes,” Katherine said. “How do you and this young witch plan on keeping me alive?” 

“Well, I planned on seeing if Sophie knows anything or maybe looking at The Original Witch book of spells. Generations after generations of witches walk this city. Someone has to know something.” 

“Caroline, I don’t think Sophie is going to be so keen to help,” Elijah interjected. “We’ve ruined all her plans and have taken her prisoner. Let’s not forget the torture.” 

Caroline’s eyes darkened at the mention of Sophie. “Who said she had a choice in the matter?” 

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ 

Sophie’s arms dangled above her from chains attached to the ceiling, her feet barely touching the ground, she had to stand on the tip of her toes, her shirt was soaked with blood, her neck covered in red stains. 

Her skin pale and dark circles beneath her eyes, exhaustion coming off her in waves. 

She looked up as a knock sounded on the door. The werewolf guarding her sent her a disdainful look and pulled the door open. 

Caroline stepped in. She was alone. Davina was with Katherine, Josh had stayed with his friend. 

“Did you really come here alone?” Sophie asked, eyes glaring. “How wise is that?”

Caroline moved forward. “You and I both know, you are too weak to do a thing to anyone, and secondly if you did anything and I mean anything you would be scattered in pieces across this floor.”

“What do you want?” Sophie asked through clenched teeth. 

“Your help.” Caroline stepped closer, her eyes filled with hate. 

“You have got to be joking!?” Sophie exclaimed in disbelief. “You’ve chained me up like an animal, tortured me, fed on me, healed me only to do it all over again. You keep me weakened and you expect me to help you?! You’re crazy!”

Caroline grabbed her by the neck, eyes blackening, her temper flaring. “You will do whatever I asked you to do. You live because I say so, because I allow it. The second I say otherwise you will be dead and forgotten. Don’t test me. The sight of you makes me see red and I want to rip you apart until there is nothing left. Even now I fight the urge to kill you. I rather delight in your screams as I slice you open and cause you excruciating pain.” 

Sophie's eyes darkened and she looked at Caroline in revulsion. “You sound like Klaus. Has being with him changed you that much?” 

“Being with Klaus has been the most freeing thing I’ve ever done,” Caroline said, feeling like the words were the most honest she ever was in her life. “Selfish, deplorable, disgusting individuals like Hayley and yourself have no legs to stand on moral ground.” Caroline pressed closer, her hand tightening on Sophie’s throat cutting off her air. “You can do as I ask or we can make this into another torture session. If you won’t do as I say. I will turn you into a vampire. I know from a friend that there is no worse fate than this for a witch. I’ve seen it. The disconnect a witch feels is hollow.” 

Sophie glowered. She hated Caroline. She underestimated her and now she was just starting to realize who she was dealing with.

Sophie tried to pull back from Caroline’s hand. “Okay. Okay.” Caroline released her. “What do you want from me,” Sophie asked, struggling to breathe normally again. 

“You’re going to help me save someone’s life.” 

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ 

“Klaus.”

Klaus was in the middle of giving orders to the wolves and vampires, splitting them up into two separate parties when he heard his name from someone he wasn’t expecting to hear from anytime soon. 

He turned to see Stefan standing in the middle of the courtyard. “Stefan, mate, what are you doing here?” 

“I came to see Caroline?” Stefan’s brow furrowed as he saw all the people lined up awaiting further instructions. “What is going on here?”

Klaus turned back to the two groups. “You know your orders. Go.” 

The wolves and vampires shared a hateful look and dispersed. 

Klaus focused back on Stefan. “Now is not a good time.” 

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not here for you, isn’t it?” Stefan replied.

Klaus tensed, a voice in his head whispering that Stefan was there to convince Caroline to leave him behind and go back to Mystic Falls. 

“Look, Klaus, I’m not here to play games. I’m here to see my friend. You can tell me where she is or I can call her and tell her I’m here, either way, I’m not leaving.” 

Klaus rolled his eyes heavenward. He would never hear the end of it from Caroline if he told her he sent Stefan away. She had such a soft spot for the younger Salvatore but so help him if he was there to take Caroline from him, he would find himself in Marcel’s Garden. 

“Dwayne,” 

Dwayne stepped forward seeming to move out of the shadows startling Stefan. 

“Take Stefan here to Caroline, then if she wishes for you to leave do so,” Klaus ordered. 

Dwayne’s face brightened. He wanted, needed to be near Caroline. 

He started walking, not even stopping to see if Stefan was following. 

Stefan shot Klaus an uncertain look before following behind Dwayne. 

Dwayne led him down a corridor and down a flight of stairs, the sound of a bloodcurdling scream had him, stopping. His mind screamed that Caroline needed his help and he took off on a run past Dwayne. He burst into a room, slamming the door open with his shoulder. “Caroline!” he looked around the room frantically and froze. 

A dark-haired girl was strapped to a med table, blood pouring down her skin, dripping into a large puddle on the floor, she was crying out in agony, she tried to thrash around, attempting to get away, to break free but was restrained tightly to the table with barely any movement. When she turned her head his way, shaking from the pain, Stefan recognized her. 

Hayley Marshall. 

His eyes shot to the blonde standing over her, pouring something over the girl. The blonde’s back was to him, he couldn’t see who it was but he knew he had to stop her. What did Hayley do to deserve to be tortured like this? Her cries were echoing off the walls, the stench of blood filled the air. 

He moved forward grabbing the girl by the arm spinning her around. “Stop, what are you-” Stefan released the blonde, taking a step back in shock. “Caroline?!” 

“Stefan, what are you doing here?” She pushed her hair back from her face, streaks of blood coating the blonde strands from her hands that were coated in Hayley’s blood. 

“What the hell are you doing, Caroline?!” You’re torturing people now? This isn’t you?!” Stefan stepped forward again, crowding her. “First Damon, now Hayley, who’s next?!”

“She deserves it and so did Damon!” Caroline shoved him back not liking the way he was standing over her. 

Suddenly Stefan found himself pinned against the wall by Dwayne. 

Stefan’s eyes widened as he stared in the face of an angry hybrid. “Oh my God,” he looked past the werewolf to Caroline. “Klaus can make hybrids without Elena’s blood?”

Caroline turned and stuffed a gag into Hayley’s mouth cutting off her screams and cries of pain. 

“Klaus didn’t make him. Tyler did, trying to prove he was right about why Klaus cared about his children.” Caroline said, her hand drifted down to her stomach. “Let him go, Dwayne.” 

Dwayne let Stefan go reluctantly but he was eager to get closer to Caroline, coming to stand beside her. 

Stefan pushed off the wall, rolling his shoulders, he followed the movements of Caroline’s hand’s, his eyes widening. “Your mother told me what was going on but I had trouble believing it.”

But how could he continue denying it when he could see the roundness of Caroline’s stomach. “I don’t understand.”

“You want to know what Hayley has done to deserve this? She stole my babies, she used magic to steal a pregnancy for her own gain. I’ve taken back what’s mine but that doesn’t mean, she gets to walk away from this after everything she has done.” 

Caroline turned back to Hayley gripping the surgical tool, a rib spreader, and spread Hayley’s open wound where all the blood was coming from open wider. 

Hayley whined in pain, sniffling. “Please, it hurts.” 

Caroline’s eyes hardened. “Good.” She lifted a bottle of liquid and started pouring it inside Hayley, watching Hayley’s insides burn and sizzle as her bloodcurdling scream filled the air. 

“Is that wolfsbane?” Stefan asked, alarmed. 

“Yes, mixed with hydrofluoric acid,” Caroline answered, a dark smile pulling at her lips. 

“Caroline, you have to stop.” Stefan came forward again. 

Caroline put down the container of Acid and wolfsbane. And removed the rib spread from Hayley’s body. “She needs time to heal until next time.”

Caroline bit into her wrist and squeezed it over, Hayley’s mouth giving her only enough so she would heal slowly and not die from her wounds.  

“Next time?” Stefan repeated. 

“Dwayne take care of this for me,” Caroline ordered and walked out of the room. 

Stefan followed her. “Caroline, stop, we need to talk about this.” he grabbed her arm, turning her around to face him. 

“What’s there to talk about?” Caroline asked, shrugging him off. “I am causing Hayley pain for her deceit.” 

“Caroline, this isn’t you. You don’t torture people.” Stefan protested. “You’re good.” 

“What I am is tired. Why am I always the pawn in someone’s larger game? I will not allow my children to suffer nor will I allow them to be used. I’m done being a casualty. If I have to do things that I otherwise wouldn’t then I will without hesitation and if you can't accept this then maybe you shouldn’t have come here.” 

“I came here because I realized what a bad friend I’ve been. I’m not going to turn back now. I wasn’t there for you. I can’t make up for what happened to you in Mystic Falls but I can be here for you now. I can’t imagine what you’re feeling. How you handle this is up to you but I am not going back to Mystic Falls.”

“Then follow me,” Caroline said and turned walking down the corridor, expecting Stefan to fall into line behind her. 

Caroline led Stefan upstairs and into a room, he was shocked to see Katherine lying in the bed, Elijah sitting beside her and on her other side was Nadia. 

Nadia had shown up, demanding to be with her mother. Caroline hadn’t much cared about keeping the mother and daughter separated. 

There was a woman in the room and a younger girl, a dark hair male, and another man who was watching the dark-haired woman like a hawk. 

“What’s going on here?” Stefan questioned, looking to Caroline for answers. 

“We’re going to save Katherine’s life,” Caroline told him. 

“I’m sorry, what?” Stefan was in disbelief. 

“I’m still doubtful about it myself,” Katherine spoke up. “It’s good to see you, Stefan.” 

“Klaus is okay with this?” Stefan asked, looking to Caroline.  

“He’s willing to accept it for me,” Caroline said and then did a quick round of introductions to the room. 

“Have you found anything yet?” Caroline asked Davina, coming forward. 

“Not yet,” Davina answered, casting a curious look at Stefan. 

“Stefan and I will go through the books Elijah has required and I’ll call Bonnie, see if she knows something. Maybe there’s something in the Bennet books that can help.” Caroline said, after thinking it over. 

“You really think Bonnie’s going to want to help save Katherine’s life?” Stefan asked skeptically. 

“No but I’m asking as her friend and I will explain why I am trying to do this.” Caroline insisted. 

“I believe Katerina is in good hands.” Elijah smiled over at Caroline and walked past her and Stefan into the hallway. “I will be back shortly.” 

“Alright, so this is what we’re going to do, Sophie and Davina continue searching here. Josh and Stefan will go through the books in the study. I will call Bonnie and see if I can get her to help. Dwayne.” 

As if he was just waiting for Caroline to need him Dwayne appeared. 

Caroline shifted away. He made her uncomfortable with how he was always ready to do whatever she asked. She didn’t like using the sire bond he had to the twins and how he was always lurking in the shadows wherever she was, creeped her out. 

“Dwayne, you will make sure Sophie doesn’t try anything if she does lock her up and get Zach or one of the wolves to deal with her until I have the time to do it myself. Nadia, you can stay with Katherine.” No one moved much to Caroline’s annoyance, she clapped her hands. “Well, you got jobs to do. Go!” 

Davina nodded and continued searching the book in front of her, Sophie glared but did as she was told. 

Josh motioned to Stefan to follow him and led him out of the room. 

“You really think this is going to work?” Katherine asked Caroline. 

“Yes, because I will make sure of it,” Caroline answered. 

“I don’t want to be human,” Katherine argued. 

“You don’t want to be dead either, do you?” Caroline retorted. 

Katherine shot her a look. “What do you think?” 

“Good, we’ll save your life, and then we’ll find a way to turn you back into a vampire.” 

Caroline stepped out of the room to call Bonnie in private. 

Katherine watched the door close behind her. She hated the feeling of hope that was beginning to rise within her.

Damn Caroline Forbes and her unending optimism and determination. 

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ 

Rebekah and Elijah walk through the streets of the Quarter as they talk about recent events. 

“Now, you may doubt him, but today, I saw Niklaus demonstrate mercy towards an enemy. Tell me that's not progress,” said Elijah.  

“That’s Caroline’s influence,” Rebekah stated. “He wants to be better for her. He’s not the same brother we knew the last thousand years. Honestly, she is the only reason I’m not still working with Sophie.” 

Elijah turned to her abruptly. “You were working with Sophie?” 

“Not anymore. Not after everything she has done.” Rebekah responded. 

“Are you the reason he let Thierry out?” Elijah eyed her with suspicion. 

“No, that was Caroline,” Rebekah told him. “She didn’t like that he was locked up for protecting someone he loved. Though we should keep a close eye on him. Thierry despises Klaus and for good reason. He got the witch he loved killed. However, I was thinking, he knows about French Quarter covens because he dated a witch. Maybe he can lead me to whoever stole off with the Harvest magic.”  

“Rebekah, we are all devastated by the outcome of this ritual,” Elijah began.  

“That's just it,” Rebekah interrupted. “There was no outcome. Davina is only alive because of the Elixir. We both know that power like that doesn't just vanish. I say someone stole it. I'd like to know who, and then I'd like to make an ally out of them and then kill them.” 

“To what end, exactly?” Elijah asked. “When will killing everyone who challenges us be enough?” 

“I'm tired of being threatened and controlled by our enemies, being moved on a chessboard like sacrificial ponds,” Rebekah told him. “If you want to stop bullies, you need the power to stand up to them.”  

“You’re not alone in this Rebekah. You have me and you have Niklaus.” Elijah insisted. “He is finally making an effort. He's invited us back into our family home. He yearns for our family to be reunited. He’s there for Caroline and their unborn children.”  

“Yes. He's in a brilliant mood now, but for how long?” Rebekah challenged. “What about when things fall apart with him and Caroline? What then? He was bad before but if anything were to ever happen to Caroline or their children, he will be inconsolable, wreaking havoc and pain wherever he goes. And who says he won’t turn that anger on us and bury a dagger in our hearts?”

“I believe that he is approaching some semblance of peace here. As long as we keep Caroline safe we have nothing to worry about,” Elijah argued. “Leadership may, in fact, be a good thing for him and as I am quickly learning Caroline may very well be the best thing to ever happen to him in his thousand years on this earth.” 

“I hope it’s enough and that Stefan has not shown up here to take her back to Mystic Falls. That’s not her home anymore.” Rebekah said. She had been surprised to learn that Stefan was here but she didn’t think he would be staying long. It was only a matter of time before he found his way back to Elena and his brother in Mystic Falls. 

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Her phone call with Bonnie didn’t go as well as Caroline had hoped. Bonnie was hesitant to help Katherine but Caroline kept insisting that she owed Katherine. Caroline reminded Bonnie that Katherine was human and was no longer in New Orleans. 

Caroline kept insisting until Bonnie finally gave in. Bonnie ended the call with the promise to look through her family journals and she would let her know immediately if she finds something. 

Caroline walked to Elijah’s room and sifted through his things until she found what she was looking for. 

Esther’s grimoire. Grabbing the book she left the room and found a sitting room in the compound, she settled into the end of a couch and started sifting through it. 

The smell of blood filled the air and she looked up to see Klaus carrying a glass of blood and a plate of food. 

“What are you doing?” Caroline asked.

Klaus set the plate and glass on the table in front of her. “Have you eaten?” 

“No,” Caroline shook her head and took a drink of the blood, savoring the warm liquid sliding down her throat. 

“You should,” Klaus took the seat next to her. “I know you're dead set on finding a way to save Katherine but you can’t neglect yourself or the babies.” 

Caroline’s eyes widened suddenly and pulled the glass of blood away from her lips. “Do you think blood is bad for them?” her other hand dropped the book in her lap, placing her hand over her stomach. 

“I think nothing that is good for you can possibly be bad for them.” Klaus reached for the book. “Are you looking through my mother’s book for a spell?” 

“I was hoping it might have something to help Katherine,” Caroline admitted and reached for the place of fruit grabbing an apple slice. “I found nothing so far.” 

“Where did you find it?” Klaus asked. 

“Elijah’s room. I went and took it,” Caroline took another drink of the blood. 

Klaus laughed. “Elijah’s is not going to like that.” 

Caroline shrugged. “I don’t care.” 

Klaus tossed the book on the table and turned his body more towards her. “Did you speak with Stefan?” 

“I did. My mom told him about what’s going on here and he came out of concern, I guess.” 

Klaus nodded, his body becoming tense. “Has he managed to convince you to go back to Mystic Falls?”

Caroline placed her glass on the table and turned toward him. “Klaus, we’ve been over this. I’m not returning to Mystic Falls. Not even for Stefan.”

Klaus swallowed, choosing his words carefully. “Things are different now. Why would you stay here after everything that was done to you?”

Caroline nodded slowly. She needed to get her point across. Klaus had insecurities and she more than anyone understood how powerful they could be, if she let the insecurities take root it could ruin what they were building. He needed her reassurance to silence the voices in his head telling him she would return to Mystic Falls. 

Caroline pushed at his shoulders, shoving him back. 

Klaus fell back against the cushions surprised. Caroline threw a leg over his hip, settling into his lap, and grasped his face in her hands. “I need you to listen to me and hear me, Klaus. I am not going back to Mystic Falls no matter what happens. Not for Stefan. Not even for my mom. My life is here, with you. I will go where you go. As long as you want me by your side I am going to be there. I won’t leave you.” 

Klaus leaned his forehead against hers, his hands coming to rest over her stomach, over their children. “I am never going to want to let you go, love.”

“Then don’t,” Caroline whispered. “Don’t let me go. Always fight for me. Always want me.”

Klaus couldn’t take it anymore. He surged forward, burying his hands in her hair and clashing his mouth against hers. 

Caroline deepened the kiss and Klaus licked into her mouth, tasting the blood she had been drinking on her tongue. 

A groan tore from his throat as she circled her hips, grinding against him. He grasped at her hips urging her down on his rapidly hardening jean-covered cock.

A whimper pulled from Caroline’s mouth and she gripped his shoulders for leverage, looking for friction as she ground her hips against his, desire taking over. 

“Hey, guys, we got a problem,” Diego announced entering a room in the compound, looking worried.   

Klaus broke away from Caroline with a growl, his hands digging into her hips. 

Caroline looked over her shoulder at Diego, perched in Klaus’s lap. “You know there’s this thing called knocking.” 

Diego’s worried expression twisted into mild disgust. 

“Just a little common courtesy would be nice.” Caroline reluctantly removed herself from Klaus’s lap. 

“What’s wrong?” Klaus asked, readjusting his jeans as he stood. “And there better be a real problem or I might just kill you for the interruption.” 

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Thunder rumbles overhead as Diego leads Klaus, Caroline, and Stefan to the Cauldron to show them what he found. 

Stefan had insisted on tagging along last minute when he realized Caroline was going.

“We came to kill the witches, just like you said,” said Diego. “And these two, they went missing. Found them like this, not even staked. Just dead.”  

Two vampires were on the ground desiccated, symbols carved into their forehead. 

“Someone has to account for this!” Klaus growled. 

“Are we talking about revenge?” Caroline questioned. “I’m only asking because even though I’m no expert on magic, I know that marks got to be tied to some bad mojo.”

“I don’t like this,” Stefan said, having a bad feeling. Caroline was in complete agreement. 

“Revenge is only the beginning,” Klaus told Caroline before turning to Diego. “We're gonna find whoever did this, and I will show them what suffering is.” 

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ 

Thierry and Rebekah walk into a warehouse at the docks to investigate. 

“Used to run things down here for Marcel,” Thierry explained. “Thought you'd like to see what I found before Klaus did.”  

Rebekah smirks. “Not a day out of the Garden, and you're already proving yourself useful.”  

“We made a deal, and if it screws things for your brother, I'm all for it,” said Thierry. “Though, to be honest, this stuff makes my skin crawl. I've never seen anything like this.” 

“Except you’re a little late to the party,” Rebekah told him. “I have ceased my plans for my brother.” 

“What?” Thierry glared at her. “You can’t-”

“Quiet,” Rebekah cut him off. “I have seen this before,” Rebekah said as they stop in front of another salt circle on the ground with two dead vampires inside. Both are desiccated and have the same symbol carved into their foreheads. “I have, a long time ago,” said Rebekah, recognizing the mark. “Somebody is copycatting a very dangerous witch. They draw their power from sacrifice.”  

“I just don't understand why someone would leave it here for us to find,” said Thierry, distracted by the turn of events.   

“Unless they wanted it to be found.” Rebekah pointed out.  

Papa Tunde appears from the shadows behind them. Rebekah notices him in shock and horror. 

“Mademoiselle Mikaelson.” Papa Tunde greeted.  

“That's not possible,” said Rebekah, still unable to believe what she was seeing. 

“Sure, it is, chére. It's magic.” Papa Tunde told her.  

Rebekah speed vamps toward him to try to kill him, but Papa Tunde simply reaches out and grabs her by the throat. “Symbole du masque et de l'ombre, embrace-toi. Embrace-toi. Symbole du masque et de l'ombre, embrace-toi. Embrace-toi. Symbole du masque et de l'ombre, embrace-toi. Embrace-toi. Symbole du masque et de l'ombre, embrace-toi.”  

Rebekah starts to desiccate, and thick gray veins pop up all over her face and neck. Terrified, Thierry speeds vamps and disappears out of the warehouse, leaving Rebekah on her own.  

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ 

Klaus, Caroline, Elijah, Stefan, and Diego, and many of the other vampires are congregating in the courtyard, discussing their current situation. 

“Ah! Someone will die for this.” Klaus declared.  

“Remarkably, I don't disagree,” said Elijah. “However, I would like to know where they learned such dark magic.”  

“I had hoped never to see that symbol again,” said Klaus. “I recall it is the signature of a fool who once stood against us.”  

“Isn’t someone always standing against you?” Stefan asked with an arched eyebrow. 

Caroline smacked his arm. “So not the point, Stefan.” 

“Clearly, some upstart witch is salvaging old tricks,” Elijah responded.

“Ugh, witches,” Caroline said. “I’m really starting to hate them.” 

“Bonnie was a witch,” Stefan reminded her. “Before she became an anchor, she was a witch.” 

“Bonnie’s, Bonnie.” Caroline defended. “And she’s different. She’s not morally questionable.” 

Stefan couldn’t argue with her there. Plus, Caroline’s hate for the witches in New Orleans was understandable. “What about Davina?”

“Davina is innocent, nothing that has happened is her fault.” Caroline defended her new friend.   

“I'll do for him as I did the other.” Klaus turns to Diego. “Diego, when night falls, I want you to gather every vampire in the Quarter. Get me the head of whoever did this and put it on a stick.”  

“Yeah. That's gonna be a problem,” replied Diego. “Everyone is freaked out, man. We haven't had witches killing vampires in a long time. Marcel made sure of that.”  

“Marcel is no longer in charge and is busy chasing after his human. You lot are left with me. Now, who of you will fight to defend our home?” Klaus looked around to see that no one comes forward. “Not a single one of you will stand with me, so afraid are you of this new threat? You should know better. I'll handle this myself.”

“We will stand with you,” 

Klaus turned to see Zach and his pack stepping forward and he smirked. “Good.” 

He turned to Caroline. “Stay here, I don’t want you near this,” 

Caroline wanted to argue but she did not want witches near her unborn children again. “I’ll be fine,” She brushed a kiss against his stubble jaw. 

It wasn’t nearly enough for Klaus, he grasped her chin and kissed her deeply. 

Stefan cleared his throat after a moment, uncomfortable seeing Klaus and Caroline kissing each other like they’ve been doing it for years. 

Klaus turned and the wolves followed, sending disgusted looks the vampires’ way.  

Caroline lifted a hand to her lips watching him leave. 

“Stefan a word,” Klaus called over his shoulder. Stefan rolled his eyes and followed him out onto the street. 

Klaus turned to him. “Keep an eye on Caroline, will you? It’s only a matter of time before she involves herself.” 

“I’m not going to keep her prisoner for you,” Stefan glared. 

“I didn’t tell you to keep her in.” Klaus rolled his eyes. “I said keep an eye on her as in help her if she needs it. I promise you now if one hair is harmed on her head and you could have prevented it, your brother won’t be the only Salvatore I want to kill.” 

And with those parting words, Klaus left. 

Stefan sighed, he came here for Caroline but it looked like he was going to have to deal with Klaus on the regular. 

~*~ ~*~ ~*~  

Cami spoke into her phone. “Sophie, the restaurant is an epic disaster again. Do you think maybe you could come in today and…” 

The voice mail interrupts: "User's mailbox is full." 

“Good-bye,” Cami said annoyed, ending the call.  

“Looks like I should've been here last night,” said Marcel.  

Cami, startled, looks for anything she can find to use as a weapon, finally settling on an empty liquor bottle on top of the bar. “Before you try anything, I'm on vervain.” 

“Yeah, Klaus mentioned you broke free of his compulsion. Good for you.” Marcel wondered. 

“What are you doing here?” asked Cami.  

“Wanted to see you.” Marcel sits down at the bar.

“I thought now that you have Davina back you wouldn’t be leaving her side.”  

“Except now I need to keep New Orleans from falling apart,” Marcel told her.  

“Is Klaus causing trouble?” Cami questioned. 

“When isn’t he?” Marcel responded, “and I’m more than likely going to have to be the one to clean it up. He has his hands full with Caroline and his kids and Hayley’s betrayal.” 

“What are you talking about? What did Hayley do?” Cami questioned. 

“Right,” said Marcel. “You wouldn’t know.” He reached for a bottle and poured two shots. “You’re probably gonna need a drink for this.” 

Cami joined him at the bar. “Tell me,” 

“Caroline is the one Klaus knocked up before coming back to New Orleans,” Marcel said. 

Cami’s eyes widened. “But she's a vampire and Hayley is the one who's pregnant.” 

“Not anymore,” Marcel shook his head. “The twins are back with Caroline now.” 

Cami’s shoulders slumped forward. “I’m so confused.” 

Marcel laughed. “It’s pretty unbelievable. From my understanding before the witches brought Caroline to New Orleans, she and Klaus got busy in her hometown, and by some dark magic on Sophie’s and her sister’s behalf they made it possible for Caroline to get pregnant and-”

“But how did they even know about Caroline?” Cami questioned. 

“Witches talk.” Marcel shrugged. “Plus, when Klaus Mikaelson truly cares about someone other than himself people tend to notice. It’s no surprise word traveled. Anyway, when the Deveraux witches learned their plan worked and that she was pregnant they lured her here, took her babies, and put them in Hayley’s womb. Hayley went on to pretend it was her pregnancy.”

“Why would someone do that to another woman?” Cami was disgusted. 

“The witches promised to help Hayley find her family and she was desperate enough to take the deal,” Marcel said. 

“Still,” Cami shook her head. 

“So while he’s dealing with that I have to deal with all the other drama he’s left in his wake,” Marcel stated.

“Marcel, I'm sorry,” Cami told him sympathetically. “This all sounds so complicated.” 

Marcel shrugged. “Same old, same old.” 

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Elijah walks into Davina’s room to find her going through her old sketches.  

“There you are.” Elijah greeted. “Aren’t you supposed to be helping Katerina?” 

 “I needed a break and something keeps bothering me,” Davina answered, continuing her perusal of her sketches. 

Elijah gestures to the sketches. “And it has to do with your drawings?”  

“I don’t know but I feel this pull. I know they're telling me something,” Davina insisted. “I don’t understand why I was drawing a witch who has been dead for longer than I’ve been alive. I’m killing time, now that I'm on vampire lockdown.”  

“Are you sure it has nothing to do with the harvest?” Elijah asked and Davina glared at him. “Whoever did this, we will deal with them,” Elijah stated. “It won't be long.”  

“I'm not worried.” Davina declared. “I can handle what’s thrown my way. I just want to be prepared. I don’t want to get caught off guard. Something’s coming and I need to know what it is so I can protect the people that I care about.”   

“I do apologize if you feel all of our problems have fallen on your shoulders,” Elijah told her. “Finding a way to save Katherine, the Sophie and Hayley situation, Caroline. Stefan’s arrival. Rebekah is off trying to make things right. Niklaus grows more agitated with every new threat. You're just a child none of this should have fallen on you.”

“I’m not a child,” Davina said strongly. “I was forced to grow up sooner than I should have but I did it and I can handle this and I will. For Caroline but ultimately for myself. They have not beaten me down and I intend to show them they never will.” 

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Marcel is still sitting at the bar with Cami when his phone rings. It's Klaus. He hits the ignore button and returns to his drink. 

“El presidente?” Said Cami.  

“He likes to keep track of his people,” Marcel responded.  

“Why are you loyal to him, exactly?” Cami wondered.  

“For someone who says she can't stand the guy, you sure ask a lot of questions about him.” Marcel pointed out.  

“My interest is purely academic.” Cami defended.  

“I know what you're doing,” Marcel said, knowingly. “You're mad he used you, and you want to get back at him. Maybe you're hoping I'll let slip some chink in his armor. Friendly advice--don't do that. It won't end well. Let me tell you a story about someone who went up against Klaus.” 

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ 

1919 

Marcel returns home in his military uniform to find a party being held at the compound. Marcel sees Rebekah sitting at a table with an unknown gentleman, and walks toward her.  

“This was right after I returned from World War I. I'd been trying to get away from New Orleans for a while. Something kept drawing me back.” Marcel began. 

“Why don't you get me some Martinis?” Klaus suggested. “Thank you.”  

“Aren't you gonna welcome me home?” Marcel asked Rebekah.  

“I wouldn't want you to think that I was happy to see you,” replied Rebekah.  

“How long you gonna hate me?” Marcel asked.  

“You left me in a box for fifty-two years.” Rebekah glared. “Twice that seems like a good start. Come on, boys.”  

Marcel watched her walk away with a look of longing. 

Klaus approaches Marcel. “There he is. Our war hero triumphantly returned. Oh, good to have you back, Marcellus. Welcome home.” They drink together. “Mm.”  

“Haha! The prodigal son has finally learned to hold his liquor.” Elijah teased.  

“The Army'll do that to you,” Marcel replied.  

“Well, it's good to have you back,” Elijah told him. “Niklaus was beside himself in your absence.”  

“Now that you are here, perhaps you could help settle an argument,” said Klaus. “You see, you've traded a war abroad for one here in the Quarter. Some rogue witch wants a piece of the city we built, and Elijah, for reasons beyond my comprehension, insists that negotiation is our best recourse.” 

“Yes,” said Elijah.  

“On the topic of your failed comprehension, you neglect, as a soldier, Marcel has seen not only how small the world has become and how fast news can travel, but also the very horrors of war itself.” Klaus continued. “Surely, Marcel would agree with me.” 

“The best way for us to defend our home is by exercising discretion.” Elijah insisted.  

“So who's the witch you want to kill?” Marcel asked.  

“His name is Papa Tunde,” Klaus answered. “I think he's a charlatan. “ 

“Well, Marcel shall be able to decide that for himself. You invited him here.” Elijah reminded.  

“Of course. We're not savages, are we?” Klaus replied.  

Papa Tunde arrives at the party, and Klaus immediately approaches him. 

“Thank you for accepting our invitation, and welcome.” Klaus greeted. “I hope you'll allow me to play the role of host. If there's anything you need- Anything at all…”  

“Pleasure before business, then,” replied Papa Tunde. “Hahaha! Hahaha!”  

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ 

“I didn't get it at first,” said Marcel. “Klaus was the one who wanted to go to war.”  

“So, why was he inviting his enemy into his home?” Cami questioned. “Why be so generous to someone who he's gonna have to kill?”  

“But, you see, that's the thing. It was all part of Klaus' plan.” Marcel told her. “He was sussing the guy out, learning his weaknesses, his strengths, getting him to let his guard down. That's how Klaus does it. Then he goes in for the kill.”  

“Because he's a two-faced sociopath.” Cami accused. “There's nothing enviable about what Klaus does. He is a monster.”  

“We're all monsters, Cami,” Marcel told her. “If you're powerful like Klaus is, you just don't have to bother hiding it.” 

“Davina’s powerful,” said Cami. “She is not a monster.”  

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Papa Tunde finishes doing his spell on Rebekah. She laid desiccated in a circle of salt, with his symbol carved into her forehead. 

He stands back and admires his work. “It is done. The power of the Original sister flows through me.”  

“And will that be enough to make Klaus suffer?” Asked Celeste. 

“I will hurt Klaus Mikaelson as he hurt me,” said Papa Tunde. “When I am done, he will wish that he could die.”

“You’re going for Caroline?” Celeste inquired. 

“His children will die before they even take their first breath.” Papa Tunde promised and celeste smirked. 

Caroline had interfered with her plans when she saved Davina, she would celebrate the blonde’s untimely, tragic demise along with Klaus’s abominable spawns. 

~*~ ~*~ ~*~   

“You gonna open this place today?” Marcel asked.  

“And risk you eating the clientele?” Cami asked in return.  

“Oh, and here I thought you were starting to like me again,” replied Marcel.  

Marcel's phone rings again and he answers it. 

“Ah, you've stopped chasing after Cami long enough to pick up the phone.” Klaus’s voice came over the line.  

“I figured you'd just keep calling,” Marcel replied.  

“I'm in the Cauldron now,” Klaus informed him. “You could meet me here, we could start burning passersby at the stake.”  

“Sorry. I'm in the middle of something here.” Marcel replied.  

“Is she more important than what is happening?” Klaus asked.  

“Is Caroline?” Marcel countered. He knew the answer but he wanted Klaus to understand that he could care about someone as well. 

Klaus scoffed. “Please you couldn’t possibly feel so deeply for Cami so quickly. Finish up with her and come and help me end this.”  

Marcel hangs up the phone not taking too kindly to Klaus’s tone. 

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ 

Katherine tensed as Klaus walked into her room. Her face forming into a scowl. “Have you finally come to kill me?” 

Klaus scoffed. “You have long since lost your importance to me. You live because Caroline wants you to, if you want it to continue that way, I would advise you keep in her good graces.” 

Caroline walked in and swatted at him. “Be nice.” 

Stefan snorted from the doorway. “I can’t believe you just said that to him.” 

“You’re still here?” Katherine asked Stefan in surprise. “I would’ve thought you would have returned to be Elena and Damon’s third wheel by now.” 

“Perhaps, I’m learning,” Stefan countered, shooting her an annoyed look. 

“Enough,” Klaus said, impatiently. “I did not come here for you.” He turned to Sophie who was glowering at them. “I came here for you, the witch I was looking to brutalize.”

“What now?” Sophie shut the book she had open in her hands. “I am trying to do as you asked.” 

Caroline stepped forward. “While I would love to torture you some more, there are some more pressing matters at hand.” 

Klaus speeds vamp towards Sophie and grabs her in a chokehold. “Perhaps you could explain the attacks on my men.”  

“What about helping me?” Katherine protested, the witch couldn’t help her if she was dead. 

“I will handle it.” Davina stepped back into the room, picking up the book Sophie dropped when Klaus hoisted her up by the throat. “We haven’t given up on making sure you don’t die.” 

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Elijah is in the courtyard, trying to reach Rebekah. 

“Rebekah is not answering her calls,” said Elijah.  

“You worried about whoever killed those daywalkers still being out there?” Josh asked.  

“Yes, I'm worried. She is dead set on making things better for Caroline,” replied Elijah. “I’m not sure how far she will take this.” 

“Can she really be in any real danger?” Stefan asked. He had left Klaus and Caroline to deal with Sophie not wanting to get involved with torturing the witch. 

“Things here in New Orleans are a lot different than Mystic Falls. Much more dangerous. Enemies around every corner.” Elijah notices Thierry drinking alone at a table and joins him. “Thierry, is it?” 

“That's right,” Thierry answered.  

“My sister is rather fond of you. Strange, she's not typically drawn to unremarkable men.” Elijah commented. “Would you care to explain your sudden magnetism?”  

“I don't know what you're…” Thierry started.  

Elijah, annoyed, grabs him by the throat and pushes him against the wall. 

“You can either tell me what you know, or I can distribute tiny pieces of you throughout the Quarter.” Elijah threatened.  

Stefan crossed his arms wondering where Elijah was going with this. Usually, it was Klaus’s method to use threats and fear to reach a goal. 

“She asked me to keep an eye out on witch stuff,” said Thierry reluctantly. “I found something, and when I showed her, we were jumped by some guy. He desiccated her with his touch.”  

“Like a coward, you left her.” Elijah accused angrily.  

Stefan dropped his arms and stepped forward. “You did what?” 

“What was I supposed to do, fight some warlock that took out an Original?” Thierry asked.  

“Yes, if you were friends you shouldn’t have left her,” Stefan scolded. 

“Where was this, exactly?” Elijah questioned.  

“The docks, warehouse 57,” Thierry answered. “I was just doing what she asked. You cannot tell Klaus about this.”

Elijah throws Thierry against the wall. He's unconscious. “I shall take that into consideration,” said Elijah.  

”I'm coming with you.” Caroline appeared. “I need a break from hearing Hayley wail when all I want to do is kill her.”

“You're not going with Klaus to handle the witch thing?” Stefan asked. 

“No,” the truth was she was concerned for Rebekah. She was still mad at Rebekah but she didn’t want her in any real danger. 

“No. Stay here.” Elijah instructed. “The compound is safe.”

“First, Rebekah is in trouble. I'm going. Second, I don’t care what is safe” Caroline was not going to stay behind. “And third, you don’t get to tell me what to do. No one does.”  

Elijah considers this and sighs. “Do not leave my sight. I don’t look forward to being daggered by my brother for the rest of time.”

“If Caroline is going, I’m going,” Stefan said. He was determined to stay by her side and be there when she needed a friend. He needed to make up for being a bad one. 

Caroline nods, and the three leave for the docks.  

Elijah prayed nothing was going to happen to Caroline. He would really hate to end up in a coffin even longer than Finn or watch Klaus ripped Katerina’s heart just to watch him suffer. 

Niklaus was the most vengeful, vindictive person he knew. 

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ 

“Me calling things off with you wasn't lack of interest. I was hoping to save you from all this.” Marcel told Cami.  

“Well, thanks, Romeo, but I'm in it,” Cami replied. “So, when are you gonna get to the good part with Klaus and that Papa guy?”  

“Papa Tunde said he wanted to empower the witches. Mostly, he wanted money and territory. Klaus and Elijah weren't about to give him either. He didn't like that, so he went on a rampage.” Marcel continued his story. 

“No one was safe. Not the humans in the faction. Not the Guerrera werewolves. He even went after the witches who opposed him. Elijah offered a truce. He gave his word, in fact, but Klaus, being Klaus, he had another idea.”  

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ 

Papa Tunde is waiting in their meeting place when he hears someone enter. “You're late, Elijah. It's not like the noble brother to keep me waiting.”  

“I'm sorry, mate. Elijah is the brother you meet when negotiations are to be had. I'm the one you get when negotiations are closed.” Klaus informed him, something dangerous shining in his eyes.  

“You do not scare me,” said Papa Tunde. “You have no idea the power I possess.”  

“Oh, in fact, I made it a point to learn all about your power,” Klaus responded. “I noticed how you're almost always near those twin sons of yours, how they bear your distinctive mark. Got me to thinking--you channel their power, don't you? Which, of course, begs the question: what would happen were that power to be taken away, if those sons whose lives you depend on were suddenly struck down? What of that power then?”  

Marcel brings in a box and sets it down. Papa Tunde looks into the box and sees the severed heads of his twin sons. 

“I will kill you for this.” Papa Tunde vowed enraged.  

“I cannot be killed.” Klaus declared confidently. “You, however…”  

Klaus zooms over to him and presses his thumbs into Papa Tunde's eyes. 

“Aagh!” Papa Tunde cried out in pain, blood streaming out of his eye sockets.

Klaus pressed harder, his thumbs smashing through his eyes and into his brain, killing him. 

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ 

“That's awful!” Cami was horrified.  

“Oh, to Klaus, it's just business,” said Marcel.  

“And don't you think there's something fundamentally wrong with that?” Cami questioned. “Don't you worry you'll end up one of his victims or, worse, just like him?”

Cami wondered how Caroline could justify being with someone like Klaus if this was the man that laid beneath all the art and charm. Let alone have children with him. 

Papa Tunde suddenly appears in the bar. “Poor Marcellus. You remain always in the shadow of your father. Climb out from beneath it, will you, so you can die like a man?”  

“Cami, you need to run now. Don't look back. Just go.” Marcel urged her urgently, wanting her to get to safety.  

“I think she should stay,” said Papa Tunde. “I prefer an audience, and I'm about to put on quite the show.” 

“Marcel?” Cami was unsure of what to do.   

“I said get out of here,” Marcel ordered. 

Cami, terrified, hesitates in the doorway, not wanting to leave Marcel alone. 

“You cannot defeat me.” Papa Tunde declared, he strode forward like he was stalking prey, his sights set on Marcel. “I channel the power of an Original vampire. Soon, I will have all three. But first, I will take you, however not before you can tell me where I can find Caroline Forbes. I will take from Klaus what he has taken from me.”  

Even after all this time the loss of his sons still left him with unbridled rage and the need to take everything from Klaus. 

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Sophie examines the abandoned desiccated vampires that Papa Tunde left for the vampires to find at the docks. “It's a complex spell. Old-school stuff, rooted in sacrificial magic. Whoever did this to your guys, my guess is they were an offering to gain more power. More guys they kill, more power they have.”  

Klaus's phone rings, and when he sees it's Cami, he answers it, motioning for Zach beside him to not take his eyes off of Sophie. “I didn't expect a call from you.”  

“You need to get to Rousseau's now. Some lunatic witch doctor looking for Caroline is killing Marcel.” Cami told him. “He refuses to give her up. I can maybe buy him some time, maybe lie about where she is-” 

“Say one word about Caroline to him and I will make you regret it. There is a line that can’t be crossed. Not even by you.” Klaus hung up abruptly, meeting the worried eyes of Zach, he was gripping Sophie by the arm, ensuring she didn’t try anything as he got distracted by the mention of the only vampire he considered a part of his pack. “Stay with her.” He ordered 

Zach nodded. “Caroline?”

“Don’t worry about her. I have it covered. Keep your focus where it’s needed.” Klaus looked at Sophie. “If you try anything your coven will suffer the consequences.” 

“I’ll make sure she doesn’t try anything.”

Klaus turned to see a familiar face. 

“You, your Katherine’s daughter, right?” Klaus' eyes narrowed on the brunette who's been in and out of the compound since they brought Katherine to New Orleans. He hadn’t really cared to question her whereabouts. She held absolutely no importance to him. 

“Yes,” Nadia answered. “We don’t need her breaking free. I need her to save my mother.” 

“I need her to suffer.” Klaus retorted. “Don’t make me regret this or I’ll take you from your mother just like I did the rest of her family. “

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ 

Caroline, Stefan, and Elijah arrive at where Theirry told them about. Rebekah's body was on the ground. Caroline started to run toward her but Stefan stopped her pointing toward the magic circle beneath Rebekah’s body. 

Elijah is also on the phone with Sophie. 

“Rebekah!” Elijah goes to kneel next to her, but can't cross the barrier made by the salt. 

“What’s going on?” Caroline questioned.  

“Some kind of boundary spell.” Elijah answered..” Someone is channeling her. Typically, it's a lethal process, but, because she's an Original, she can't die. Instead, she's an endless source of power. “

“So what are we supposed to do?” Stefan asked. “I can only imagine the damage that could be done by channeling an Original.”

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ 

Papa Tunde bends over Marcel and holds his knife to his forehead as he begins to carve in his mark. “As I recall, you're one of the few people Niklaus Mikaelson ever gave a damn about. You know what he did to my family.”  

“Aah!” Marcel cried out.  

“The sins of the father are paid for by the son. I will take pleasure in telling Klaus how you died.” Papa Tunde told him. “And how you refused to give up the woman carrying his spawns.” 

“Wait!” Cami screamed, running back inside. “I can get Caroline here. Just don’t kill him.” She ignored the look of betrayal coming from Marcel. She was trying to save his life. 

“No!” Marcel snapped through the pain. “She has to stay away from him.” 

“Marcel, he's going to kill you.” Cami protested. “If we give him what he wants-” 

“You will do no such thing!” 

Cami gasped, whirling around to see Klaus, his face black with rage.  

She took a step back frightened. 

“I would kill anyone who puts Caroline in danger for whatever the reason.” Klaus shoved Cami back and she crashed into a table, crying out in surprise and by the force. “No one’s well being is worth more than hers.” 

Papa Tunde glared. “You cannot protect Caroline or your children she carries, no more than you can protect Marcellus, here.” 

Papa Tunde prepares to kill Marcel but Klaus runs forward, ripping him away from Marcel. 

“I remember killing you,” said Klaus. “I rather relished it. What a joy it is to relive fond memories.”  

“I can crush you before the eyes of your son.” Papa Tunde said, brushing himself off. “Then, I will consume you both and then I will kill Caroline and end your children’s lives before they take their first breath. This time, I'm stronger.”  

Klaus' eyes turned amber. “Stay away from my family!”

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ 

“You're not listening. We cannot enter the circle. There's some kind of confinement spell... If I can't remove her, we can't break the link.” Elijah explained to Sophie on the phone.   

“It's a convoluted spell. It's like a witch's recipe. You can spoil the balance by adding a more potent ingredient.” Sophie informed him. “A mystical binding agent. I don't know, volcanic ash, rock salt...anything up to and including eye of newt.”  

“What about the blood of a witch?” Elijah inquired.  

“Do you have the blood of a witch?” Sophie asked, confused.  

Elijah turns to Caroline. “I need a favor.”  

“Why are you looking at me? I have vampire blood.” Caroline protested. 

“The babies, Caroline,” Stefan interjected. “Their Quarter witches.” 

Caroline nodded slowly, she raised her wrists to her lips and bit into it gingerly, drawing blood. She walked toward the circle, holding her wrist out and letting the blood fall on the magic boundary line. It starts to fizzle and deteriorate. 

Elijah is able to get through, and he quickly picks up Rebekah and takes her out of the circle. 

He nodded at Caroline and Stefan to follow him before speed vamping out. 

Caroline looked down at the ruined magic line. A little surprised it had work and that her vampire blood had not tainted it. She vamped away and Stefan followed in her wake. 

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Papa Tunde has the upper hand on Klaus, Papa Tunde’s superior strength throwing Klaus off and is about to finish him off when he suddenly becomes weak when his link to Rebekah is broken. Klaus is able to stun Papa Tunde long enough to run over to Marcel. 

“Uhhh, is he dead?” Cami asked.  

“Get out of here.” Klaus glared at her.  

“Is Marcel dead? Did that guy kill him?” Cami questioned, ignoring his glare. 

“He didn't finish him off. Marcel needs blood to heal. Go. Find me someone off the street.” Klaus ordered. 

“I'll do it,” Cami told him.  

“Fine. Get over here.” Klaus snapped. He didn’t have time for this. 

Cami rushes over to Marcel and puts his mouth to her neck. “It's ok, Marcel. It's ok. It's ok, Marcel.” 

Klaus barely spared the two of them a look, needing to find Caroline. She was being used as a target against him. Again. 

He needed her beside him. He needed to know she was safe.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ 

Rebekah ambushes Thierry in an alley. “Ah! I should rip out your coward heart.”  

“What, Rebekah? We made a deal to take out your brother. You were the one to go back on that deal, and at the end of the day, it's every man for himself.” Thierry responded.  

“I am so sick of self-serving narcissists. Are men simply incapable of thinking about anyone but themselves?” Rebekah demanded angrily.  

Elijah speeds up to Thierry and snaps his neck. 

“Oh, I asked you to cease these petty moves against our family, and yet you conspire with this fool. Is this what it's come to, making moves against your own blood?” Elijah asked, looking at Rebekah with disappointment.  

“I called it off and don't you try and shame me,” Rebekah replied. “Nik grows more powerful by the day, and you do nothing but encourage him. Before the truth came out, I was set on taking him down but this isn’t about Klaus anymore, it’s about our whole family. I know we need to stick together for the sake of Caroline. She has a target on her back. If we don’t stick together her children may never see their first sunrise. I refuse to let that happen. She has inherited enemies she doesn’t deserve.”  

“I offer him, my counsel because it's clear to me that he needs to make the city our home. Now, perhaps leading these derelicts will curb some of these impulses, grant him some degree of happiness. Caroline is that happiness. We will all protect her.” Elijah said. “We all will make sacrifices in the name of this family, Rebekah, but know this. I will never stand against you or Niklaus.” Elijah told her.  

“What about Hayley?” Rebekah questioned. “Are we just going to let her live after everything she has done to deceive our family for her own gain? Are we just going to let her go?”

“We are going to let Caroline and Niklaus decide her fate, she wronged them more than any of us. It should be them who decide her punishment. Not us.” replies Elijah. 

Rebekah glowered, she wanted to kill Hayley for her treachery. The wolf girl didn’t deserve to breathe another breath. 

“I think death would be a blessing for her.” 

Elijah and Rebekah turned to see Stefan standing there. 

“How long have you’ve been there?” Elijah questioned with narrowed eyes. 

“Long enough to know Rebekah was making plans against your brother,” Stefan answered. 

“Will you tell him and Caroline?” Rebekah demanded. 

“No,” Stefan answered. “I don’t see what good it will do.” 

“Be sure that you don’t, Stefan,” Elijah told him. “Or your time here in New Orleans won’t end well.” 

Stefan watched him and then looked at Rebekah. “Did he just threaten me?”

“What are you doing here, Stefan?” Rebekah asked on a sigh. 

“I came here for Caroline. She should have a friend here.” Stefan said. “And I have a lot of making up to do in that department.” 

“I know that,” Rebekah rolled her eyes. “I meant here. Why did you follow me?” 

“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” Stefan admitted. 

Rebekah met his eyes, she could see his honest expression but then again it wouldn’t be the first time Stefan deceived her into thinking he actually cared about her. 

She looked away. “Don’t bother yourself with me. I’m fine. I always am.” 

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Marcel walks into the Jardin Gris Voodoo shop, where Rebekah is standing and waiting for him.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Rebekah said in greeting.  

“That symbol is already up and down the cauldron, more of them popping up everywhere,” Marcel said.  

“I suppose Papa Tunde is marking his territory,” Rebekah replied.  

“I'm told you saw him, as well,” said Marcel.  

“Yeah. Brought up a lot of memories. Memories that are best left buried.” Rebekah stated.  

Marcel swallowed. Memories of a secret long since buried 90 years ago that if it ever came to light would find him and Rebekah on the run for their lives. 

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ 

1919 

“You're soused. Celebrating Klaus' defeat of the mad Papa Tunde?” asked Rebekah.  

“Not celebrating, drowning sorrows,” Marcel told her. “I'm the one who brought Tunde to town.” 

“What?” Rebekah replied. 

“I made some inquiries while I was abroad, wanted the most dangerous witch anyone could find,” Marcel informed her. 

“Why on earth would you do that?” Rebekah wondered.  

“For you,” Marcel answered. “I figured if someone as bad as Tunde comes in, maybe Klaus gets chased off. Very least, he's occupied enough that he can't stop me from trying to get you back.”  

“You mean to tell me that you would tear down everything my family built, everything you helped us build, risk your own life on the off chance that I would show you the slightest bit of affection?” Rebekah asked.  

“I would,” Marcel answered. “I did. I'd do it again.”  

“Klaus has killed a thousand Tunde's. All his life, there's only ever been one man he has truly feared. My father Mikael.” Rebekah told him.  

“The vampire who hunts vampires,” said Marcel.  

“If he came here, Klaus would flee and never turn back,” Rebekah told him. “All we need is a witch who can help us find him.”  

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ 

Klaus commanded the attention of the whole compound as he spoke directly to the vampires of the french quarter.  

“Not long ago, you all united against me. You failed. Since then, in my benevolence, I have wiped the slate clean, yet it seems clear you think that I am the one who needs to earn your respect, your loyalty. You're mistaken. It is you who must prove yourselves to me. Our community is under attack. I require soldiers. I need warriors, not cowards. Each of you has a decision to make. You either fight alongside me and my wolves or you leave now.” 

“We don't owe you anything. If staying in the Quarter means living under your rule, working with wolves, I'd just as soon get the hell out.” Thierry declared.  

Caroline grabbed Klaus’s hand as they watched a handful of vampires join Thierry and walk out of the compound. Thierry looks at Diego in hopes that he'll come along, but he gives him a pained look and stays behind. 

Theirry couldn’t believe his friend was choosing to stay. Diego hated wolves and for good reason. His family was torn apart by them. 

Afterward, Marcel, Caroline, and Klaus talk with Sophie. 

“I got to admit, I thought you'd lose a lot more guys than that,” Marcel told him.  

“Well, good riddance to them, I say,” Klaus replied. “We've no room for slackers or cowards in our kingdom. Now that you've regained your composure, let's move on to the next item of business, shall we, with a little help from our prisoner Sophie.”  

“The last thing I want to do is help any of you!” Sophie snapped.  

“Now, now, don't be difficult,” Klaus told her. 

“You're lucky you’re still alive. You should be more grateful.” Caroline said, wanting nothing more than to slap the taste out of the witch's mouth but now was not the time to torture her some more. That time would come again later.  

“You'll only live as long as you're of use to me, and right now, your best use is to explain why a witch I killed has come back for revenge. Come on. Resurrected witches with vast power?” Klaus insisted.  

“It's the Harvest. To die and be reborn.” Sophie told him. “I don't know how, but someone jacked that power, and they used it to bring back three witches, just not the right ones.”  

“Davina’s not in danger, is she?” Caroline asked, speaking the words before Marcel could. 

“I don’t know,” Sophie answered. 

“Well be sure.” Marcel ground out. “I will not lose her.” 

“Let's concentrate on the immediate problem, shall we?” Klaus suggested. “Papa Tunde wants revenge. He'll continue to attack us, channeling power from the vampires he sacrifices. He kills, he grows more dangerous. So how do I end him? He needs sacrifices to gain power.”  

Klaus needed to kill him, he wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing he was out there, wanting to take from him what Klaus himself took from Papa Tunde. 

“Hmm. You keep him from killing any more nightwalkers, that's a start.” Sophie told him. 

“Easier said than done in a city full of them.” Caroline snapped at her, just hearing Sophie speak made her want to rip her tongue out through her throat.  

“Caroline’s right,” Klaus said. “If he finds the one place with a load of vampires ready to be sacrificed,” Klaus stated.  

They all look at each other with a look of dawning realization.

Stefan who was standing back, for the most part, minding his own business stepped forward. “What’s happening now?” 

“Nothing good,” Caroline said and leaned into Klaus’s side, seeking his touch. She felt more grounded when she could feel any part of him pressed against her. 

Klaus’s arm wound around her waist, his hand curving around her side, unthinkingly, he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. 

It was actions like these that threw everyone around him, having never seen Klaus so tactile so affectionate.   

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Klaus, Marcel, Stefan and Caroline, and Zach arrive at the garden only to discover that they are too late. All of the vampires are dead, sacrificed by Papa Tunde.

Not only that the wolves he had guarding the place until he got there were dead. 

Caroline’s hand went to her mouth, she knew every wolf by name, she had got to know in the short period after being introduced to them and had formed an attachment. 

They were good and they had welcomed her into their pack, willing to overlook that she was a vampire, they trusted her and protected her and she did the same for them. 

Now, here they were. Gone. Dead at her feet.

Anger coursed through her with a viciousness that left her reeling. 

“How could this happen?” Zach stumbled forward, falling to his knees in disbelief.

“This..this act of violence,” Caroline turned to Klaus, her eyes blackened with her rage. “Can not go unanswered. Their lives meant something. These were our people and they slaughtered them! We have to make everyone involved pay!”

Marcel's brow raised up to his hairline at her harsh reaction.

Klaus was enthralled by her words, the anger coming off her in waves, she vibrated with righteous anger for their wolves. 

The way she had accepted his wolves as her family was something he admired. “Nothing that has happened today will go unanswered, I promise you that, love.” He cupped her face, his thumbs tracing the black veins beneath her eyes. Soothing them away. 

Caroline breathed slowly, her eyes closing at his touch. A calm washing over her, pushing her anger back down just beneath the surface. She nodded and released him. She stepped forward and placed her hand on Zach’s shoulder. “We will make this right.” 

Zach nodded numbly, his hand coming up to cover her own. Thankful for her support, he looked at Klaus seeing the same readiness to avenge the wolves in his eyes.

Stefan wanted to reach out and offer his support to Caroline but it seemed she had all the support she needed. 

~*~ ~*~ ~*~  

Celeste meets with Papa Tunde near a crypt in the Lafayette cemetery. 

“Is it done?” asked Celeste.  

“This blade now contains all the power I harvested from the vampires. It will do things worse than death, even to an Original,” said Papa Tunde.  

“And are you ready for the final offering?” Celeste questioned.  

“Will you avenge my sons?” Papa Tunde asked. 

“Klaus will never get the chance to see his children be born,” Celeste vowed darkly

Papa Tunde nodded in acceptance. “In the name of the witches of the French Quarter, it is my honor.” Papa Tunde hands her the bone knife. 

“Thank you, Papa Tunde.” Celeste stands behind him and slits his throat with the knife. 

Celeste breathed deeply, her hands coated in Papa Tunde’s blood. Her plan of making Klaus suffer was closer than ever thanks to Papa Tunde’s sacrifice to her cause. 

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ 

Caroline walked into Katherine’s room, Davina sat on the floor surrounded by a mountain of books. Elijah was seated on the bed next to Katherine who appeared to be asleep. 

“Where’s Josh?” Caroline wondered. 

“I told him to go find something to drink. He couldn’t stop talking about blood.” Davina looked up from her book to Caroline. “How did today go?”

“I don’t really want to talk about it,” Caroline said. “I rather talk about how things are going here. Have you found anything yet?” 

“No,” Davina answered reluctantly. “But I will find something. I will, I just need more time.” 

“I don’t know how much time she has left.” Elijah didn’t look away from Katherine. He reached his hand brushing her hair back from her face. “We need to save her before it’s too late.” 

“She knows that,” Caroline cut a look at him. “Don’t pressure her. It’s not all on her.” 

“I promise I will try everything I can to help her.” Davina insisted. 

“Good but don’t forget to take care of yourself too. Have you eaten at all today?” Caroline asked. 

“No,” Davina shook her head. 

“Come on, then,” Caroline looped her arm through hers. “I haven’t either and I am starving for blood but I am craving actual food. I talked my friend Stefan into cooking for me. He’s a good cook. He makes great pasta.” 

“Caroline,” Elijah protested but Caroline ignored him and walked out the door with Davina. 

She would not allow Davina to neglect taking care of herself. 

Nadia, Katherine’s daughter appeared in front of them in the hall. “Where are you going? You're supposed to be helping my mother.”

“And she will but right now, she is going to eat and then get a good night's sleep and rest her mind.” Caroline moved protectively in front of Davina. “And if you don’t like it, you can leave.” 

Nadia took a step forward as if to challenge her and Caroline raised one pointed brow, daring her to try something. 

Nadia with an angry huff pushed past them into her mother’s room. 

“Do we like her?” Davina asked as they walked down the stairs. 

“Not sure yet,” Caroline answered, leading Davina to the kitchen. “Don’t really know her.” 

Stefan was pulling something out of the oven, Josh was seated at a table, drinking from a bag of blood while engaging Stefan in conversation. 

“Something smells good,” Davina said, looking toward Stefan.

“That would be baked pasta. I hope you like Italian.” Stefan popped the platter on the counter. 

Caroline leaned forward getting a better look. The melted cheese mixed with red sauce and beef looked delicious and smelled even better. “It looks great, you know, if you’re going to be sticking around I might talk you into cooking for me more often.” 

“I am sticking around and shouldn’t Klaus be the one taking care of your food cravings?” 

Klaus walked into the room. “I take care of all her cravings.” He tugged Caroline into his side, placing a kiss on her neck. 

Davina made a disgusted face. “TMI.” 

“Agreed.” Stefan put two plates on the counter and filled them with pasta putting them in front of the two girls. “I am not used to seeing the two of you together.”

“Well, you better get used to it then because it’s not about to change.” Caroline took a seat and started digging into the food. “Thanks for the food, Stefan. I’m starving.” 

“I would imagine,” Klaus moved around and set a glass of blood in front of her. 

“Is it your blood?” Caroline asked curiously, giving Davina a look of encouragement to eat. 

“No,” Klaus pulled up a seat next to her, his hand resting on her knee. 

“Pity,” Caroline said, wishing it was his blood. She loved the taste of his life-sustaining life force on her tongue. 

Klaus moved his hand on her knee higher, fingers curling around her thigh. “Later.” his eyes held promise and Caroline felt heat rush through her. 

“You guys are blood sharing?” Stefan asked, surprised. Wow, being together was one thing and accidental pregnancy another but blood sharing, that was like a whole other ballpark of seriousness in a vampire relationship. The only thing more serious would be if they had shared the vampire mate claim. 

“Not really,” Caroline said. “He doesn’t drink from me and I don’t like being poisoned by a hybrid bite”

“You could always bite your wrist for him,” Davina suggested and Caroline looked at her. “I know this is not a discussion for me.” 

“Actually, that’s a great idea. Klaus and I will have to try it.” Caroline said, her interest piqued. 

“We will?” Klaus asks, his eyes darkened with want, imaging the taste of Caroline’s blood on his tongue as he was buried deep inside her. 

Caroline bit her lip. “We will.” 

“Okay, that’s enough.” Stefan cut in. “How about you keep the blood sharing interest in the bedroom and eat your food.” 

Klaus grinned. “I could eat but it’s definitely not food.” 

Davina’s eyes nearly widened and Caroline choked on air, her cheeks heating. “Klaus!” 

Klaus smirked at her in response that devilish smirk that had Caroline squeezing her thighs together as desire shot through her. 

“I think I am going to take my food back to my room.” Davina stood up and made a quick exit, waving a hand when Caroline called out an apology. 

Stefan sent Caroline a strained smile. “I’m going to leave you to enjoy your food.” 

Caroline watched him go, knowing it was just an excuse for him to leave. He might be weirded out by her relationship with Klaus but she didn’t care.

She dug into her food, moaning at the taste. Stefan sure did know how to cook. 

Klaus’s hand tightened on her thigh and she looked at him to see his pupils were blown wide, eyes dark with that look she was quite familiar with and despite the hard and difficult day, her lips pulled into a smile. 

“Want some?” She asked, her smile coy and flirty. 

“Yes,” he answered. 

Caroline extended a bite to him. 

“Not of your food,” he said roughly, resisting the urge to pull her against him. 

Caroline's own eyes darkened with want. She quickly ate her food and pushed the plate away and downed her glass of blood. 

The second she was out of her seat and on her feet, Klaus hauled her against his body, urging her to wrap her legs around him. 

Caroline did so eagerly, her arms going around his shoulders, eyes sliding shut as his mouth slanted over hers. 

Klaus groaned, he could taste the blood she had been drinking on her tongue. 

It was mere seconds before Caroline felt her back resting against soft sheets, Klaus’s weight a comfortable feeling settling over her. 

Klaus pulled his mouth from hers tugging at her shirt. 

Caroline rose up, allowing him to remove her shirt. 

She fell back against the bed as he kissed a path down the valley of her breast to her rounding stomach. 

His hands moved to cup her belly, the softness in his kisses had tears filling Caroline’s eyes, her chest tightening with emotion. “I’ve been avoiding my mom.”

Klaus looked up at her, waiting for her to say more. “I know she’s going to have questions about the pregnancy and I can’t talk about it with her.” 

Klaus pushed down his desire and moved back up her body, he rolled off her laying on his side, and pulling her into him. “Why?”

“Sometimes it doesn’t feel real,” Caroline confessed. 

“What?” Klaus looked at her taken aback. “What doesn’t feel real? Us? The babies? All of it?”

Carolien placed her hand on his heart, wanting to reassure him. “Not us. What we have is the realist thing I have ever felt in my life. I meant the pregnancy.”

Klaus's hand came to rest over her stomach. “Trust me it’s real. I can hear their small hearts. I know you can too.”

“It’s a beautiful sound,” Caroline’s eyes grew wet with unshed tears. “I love hearing it, knowing they're there.” 

“Then what’s the problem?” Klaus asked, his hand absentmindedly stroking her belly, caressing his unborn children. 

“What if they’re more hers than mine?” Caroline whispered, voicing her fears. 

“I don’t understand,” Klaus said, her words confusing him. 

“She had all this time to connect with them, to form a bond. I feel like I missed so much. I feel like they're no longer mine. It's almost like she has this claim on them that I don’t. And if I feel like this now, how can I possibly be a good mother to them?” 

Klaus lifted a hand to her cheek as a lone tear slipped from Caroline’s eye and brushed it away. “Caroline, love, you are everything any good mother should be. Your kind, loving, caring, selfless, forgiving and so fiercely protective of the people you love. Being a mother is going to come naturally like everything else for you.” 

Caroline's lips pulled into a smile before she put her hand on the back of his neck and leaned forward, pressing her mouth to his in a meaningful kiss. 

Klaus kissed her back, his arms going around her, pulling her flush against him, his lips moved down her jaw. “Is that all that’s bothering you? Today was a hard day. How are you dealing with everything?” His every word was pressed against his skin as he spoke. 

“Shh,” Caroline rolled onto her back, pulling him on top of her. “Everything else can wait. Talking can wait.” She pulled his mouth back to hers. “I just want to feel us.”

Klaus kissed her deeper, her mouth opening beneath his inviting him inside, he reached behind her unfastening her bra. 

Caroline pushed her head back, her body arching as his lips traveled across her skin, leaving a burning fire in his wake. 

She put everything else out of her mind and focused on the here and now. 

She and Klaus, the way he made her feel, how he knew her body like one of his sketches.

She lost herself to the most real thing she ever felt. 

And when he finally pushed inside her, eyes locked on hers, one hand digging into her thigh the other planted next to her head, she felt like everything would work itself out.

She would make damn sure of it because she was not giving up the life she was building or her new family. 

Always and Forever. 

It was the Mikaelson family motto. 

And now it was hers. 

She held on tightly to Klaus as he moved inside her, branding himself on her soul. 

She opened herself to him, letting down all her walls and defenses, pushing the love she had into his heart, wanting him to know, to believe after all his time on this earth he wasn’t alone and he never had to feel like he was. 

She will always be there. 

She wasn’t going anywhere without him. 

A/N: Thanks for reading!

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