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euthymiya · 11 months ago

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“we’re just friends but…” ft. wriothesley, neuvillette, alhaitham, and kamisato ayato

aka the moment genshin boys realize that maybe, just maybe, you’re not “just friends” and maybe, just maybe, they’d like to be more. perhaps some day in the future they’ll tell you. part two of confessions here!

contains: female reader in all (nicknames such as madame and my lady), fluff, pining and realizing of feelings, wriothesley: mentions of fighting, blood, and injuries (pankration ring), reader is a doctor, neuvillette: mentions of being a mother figure to melusine’s (lots of melusine features!), reader works at the palais and can bake, alhaitham: drunk alhaitham, reader can cook, ayato: implied assassination attempt (canon typical yashiro commissioner life lol), reader wears a dress in and is very minimally attacked by an assassin while with him, ayato is as unhinged and low key crazy as ever, these all end with unresolved pining but they’re all very fluffy and hopeful i pinky promise

“we’re just friends, but when i see her touch anyone else, it makes my skin crawl. shouldn’t she only touch me?” — WRIOTHESLEY

you’re just doing your job, he tries to tell himself. wriothesley knows that with your line of work, not touching anyone would be next to impossible. the fortress is blessed to have such a dedicated and knowledgeable doctor to help out the head nurse, and it’s admirable that you’ve given up broad daylight and a position at any respectable hospital in fontaine to tend to patients down here.

it’s admirable, and wriothesley appreciates it more than anyone else.

but the mind thinks what it thinks, and his can’t help but think how wonderful it would be if the only shirtless man you had to cleans wounds of was himself. not that he gets many wounds—he prides himself in his ability to knock an opponent out before they land a hit, but if someone were to be shirtless on the examination table with your delicate hands dabbing at small cuts, it should be him.

he stares daggers into the small gash his gauntlets seem to have made in his former opponent, watching as you gently clean the blood with careful precision. a part of him faintly registers that he should feel bad—as the duke, it’s his responsibility to make sure he never injures anyone in a good natured tournament, but this time was an accident. and he does feel bad. just not worse than the unexplainable weight at the bottom of his stomach that makes him feel almost nauseous. why does he feel nauseous?

“you’re all good to go,” you hum softly, “i would tell you to be careful next time, but i don’t think this has much to do with you as it does with other factors.”

you shoot wriothesley a pointed look as the man shrugs on his shirt, a dazed look on his features as he thanks you over stumbled words. wriothesley’s jaw tightens—it’s clear as day this patient of yours appreciates much more than your talents as a professional.

“it was an unfortunate accident,” wriothesley mumbles, “i’ll have to be more cautious next time, my apologies.”

“all good, boss,” the man waves off, and with a polite nod to you, he’s off. finally—wriothesley doesn’t think he could’ve left any faster.

“how can you hope to lessen patients in here if you’re the one sending them over?” you turn to him, making wriothesley fight back a small frown.

it must show anyway, because you giggle and poke his cheek as you walk over, speaking in between those melodious laughs as you tell him to stop pouting.

“i’m not pouting,” he scoffs, like the sentiment is preposterous, “and it was an accident. honest.”

“yes i know, your grace,” you tease. hearing such a title doesn’t usually do anything to him, but hearing it from you makes his heart flutter a tiny bit, in a way that makes the ends of his nerves tingle and the palms of his hands sweat just a bit. “but you should be more careful with those gauntlets next time, you know.”

and then, against his every expectation, there’s a gentle and steady hand on his face, cradling it ever so slightly as you tilt his head and inspect the small bruise forming on his jawline.

“you’re hurt too,” you say in concern.

wriothesley, if he wasn’t so busy trying to still his beating heart, would have laughed at the way your face seems devastatingly worried. he would have teased you at the way the sight of blood didn’t manage to crack your steady and firm composure, but somehow, the sight of a small patch of discolored skin has.

“nah, it’s just a small thing,” he waves off, “he caught me off guard after i noticed the blood. nothing i can’t handle.”

“let me ice it,” you insist, “i don’t want it swelling.”

“i’ll be fine, doc,” he chuckles—but he finds himself pausing when you look at him almost upset. has he really upset you? he’d never want to, especially not over something so trivial.

so he sighs, walking over to the table before letting himself take a seat.

“you should take care of yourself more,” you sigh, “i see now what sigewinne means when she says you don’t look after yourself like you should.”

“ah,” he grins, trying to avoid your knowing look when he winces a little at the action when a dull ache builds in his jaw, “i suppose my refusal to drink her…unique beverages have caught up to me.”

you laugh, a sweet and innocent sound that makes something under his ribcage tickle. your hand is back to gently cradling his cheek as you tilt his head again, angling it to hold a small ice pack to the small bruise.

“you seem tense,” you say thoughtfully, “don’t feel so bad. i’m sure those guys give themselves worse in the ring here and there.”

wriothesley feels bad, he really does. he would never purposely injure someone when he’s meant to be the warden that keeps things peaceful. the memory of you tending to the man sitting in his place just a few moments ago brings back another wave of bitterness, one that’s much more fleeting this time when he tells himself that now that he’s replaced the man with himself, things aren’t so bad.

it hits him then—with your hand on his cheek and an ice pack to a comically small bruise that you fuss over, that something in him craves more than just your touch when he’s injured. it hits him that anyone can be in his position, sat in front of you as you treat minor wounds with delicate care. he doesn’t want to be like anyone, he thinks.

he wants more—something he can only have for himself. something that’s crossing the line of this comfortable friendship you’ve seemed to build.

“hey,” you say softly, pulling him from his thoughts. your thumb traces the scar under his eye as if to ground him. something tells him you don’t do that for other patients, something a bit more intimate than a doctor would be with a normal patient. “what’s wrong?”

“it’s nothing, doc,” he hums lowly, eyeing you softly before he closes his eyes and lets out a soft breath. “you think my injury will be okay?” he asks with exaggerated concern.

you snort, shaking your head as you quip, “you’ll live. i hope.”

he chuckles at that. one of these days, when he’s a bit braver and a touch more in tune with his emotions about you, he’ll tell you how he feels. maybe he’ll have your touch outside of the clinic that way, something more personal, something more intimate.

“we’re just friends, but she makes me wonder what it’s like to have my own family with her. is that normal?” — NEUVILLETTE

melusines are beautiful creatures. innocent and kind by nature, and certainly small enough that it only makes them seem that much more fragile. neuvillette has always had a soft spot for the species, from the way they cheerily call him monsieur neuvillette, to the way they happily skip over to him each time they approach him.

the people of fontaine are fond of melusines too. he’s happy with the sentiment—he knows more than anyone else that things weren’t always this way. but somehow, watching you like this, smiling endearingly at the melusines in front of you as you let them pour more water into your cup, he can’t help but find more solace in this moment than any other one.

“madame,” sedene calls, “it’s lovely you could have joined us today.”

you chuckle, sweetly petting her head and taking a sip from your glass as you murmur, “it’s certainly a pleasure. though, i hope i’m not intruding, monsieur,” you look at neuvillette with a polite smile.

“no, of course not,” he returns the gesture, “on the contrary, we’re delighted to have you today.”

neuvillette regularly allows the melusines in his office in the afternoon. it starts one day when they insist he take a break, entering his office and pulling out sweets and tea to enjoy (he only drinks water, but they happily finish what he does not have.) the tradition is born ever since, a daily routine to allow himself a short break, one filled with the excited chatter of small creatures he so fondly looks over as they snack away surrounding his desk.

you happen to walk in today, with files in your hand meant to be dropped off to the iudex, pausing as you take in the sight of tiny paws reaching over his desk to grab madeleines as they chat happily. suddenly, there are one too many small voices insisting you join among the chief justice himself, and soon, you find yourself with a chair pulled over for you, sitting between sedene and neuvillette.

it’s nice, he thinks, having you join. your company is refreshing to witness as you happily indulge the melusines in their chatter.

“madame?” blathine calls, pulling a soft hum from you as you turn your gaze to her, “would you join us tomorrow as well?”

you giggle fondly, taking a small bite from a madeleine as you think for a moment. “perhaps if my schedule is free and monsieur neuvillette is not too busy…”

“i assure you it’s of no trouble to me,” he insists, “this is a bit of a…routine activity,” he chuckles as he eyes the gathered crowd around his desk.

“then i’ll certainly make time,” you grin. he feels himself soften, an unrecognizable twinge of excitement settling into his bones at the words. of course, neuvillette looks forward to the company of the melusines daily, but the added news of you joining seems to make his heart swell in a way he doesn’t normally find happening.

before he can ponder why that is, another voice captures his attention.

“madame, will you make macarons again if you join us? it’s been a while since we’ve last tried them,” kiara asks excitedly.

neuvillette watches as something brightens in you at the question, your lips tugging into a wide grin as your eyes crinkle at the edges. you nod, looking affectionately at the little heads surrounding you as they stare at you hopefully.

“if you would like, of course. i’m happy you enjoyed them.”

“you’ve baked for them before?” neuvillette asks curiously.

you open your mouth to speak, but it’s hardly possible to utter a word when so many excited voices cut in before you can.

“oh yes, madame brings us sweets whenever she makes them!” aeval chirps.

“the strawberry ones are simply divine!” he turns to elphane as she tugs his sleeve, “you must try them, monsieur.”

“the chocolate ones are my favorite. madame, would you bring those too?” liath looks hopeful, brightening as you nod sweetly.

“i hope it’s not too much trouble,” sedene looks up at you, and with another chuckle, you pat her head once more as you shake your head.

“of course not,” you say fondly, “it’s a wonderful pastime, in fact. i’ll certainly bring them tomorrow.”

“be sure not to bring too many sweets yourselves then,” neuvillette says seriously, taking a sip of his water, “you don’t want to have too much sugar and make yourselves sick. and drink plenty of water. it’s good for you.”

you look at him amusedly at his words, tips tugging wider as you say, “it seems as though you’ve taken over a fatherly figure, monsieur. it’s unexpectedly endearing, i must admit.”

“madame! madame! would that make you like a mother figure too, then?” veleda’s words make you choke on the sip of water from your own glass, pulling a surprised blink from neuvillette himself.

you both fleetingly stare at each other from the corner of your eyes before you look down, chuckling nervously as he clears his throat, hoping the flush he seems to feel coating his cheeks is not too apparent.

“well, if you would like to consider me as such, i don’t mind,” you say carefully.

the melusines giggle—for such endearing creatures, neuvillette finds they can be mischievous in their own right as well.

“monsieur, what do you think of madame being a mother figure?” blathine asks innocently, blinking up at him through doe eyes.

“i, well…it’s certainly wonderful you find comfort in her to feel—”

“does that make madame your wife?” aeval squeals, “oh, monsieur, i thought you’d never find someone!”

this time, he’s certain there’s a dust of red coating his cheeks as you laugh softly, eyeing him in a mix of sympathy and amusement.

“now, now,” you call, “monsieur neuvillette and i get along, but our relationship is strictly professional.”

he watches as the melusines giggle behind their tiny paws. he’s certainly aware of their playful schemes, but perhaps…perhaps a small part of him doesn’t mind the thought of you in a romantic light—he’s certainly not practiced in such emotions, but there’s a squeeze in his heart as he thinks about how easy it is to feel like a family with you.

his hand itches to reach and squeeze yours under the table as you laugh happily with the creatures, and faintly, he wonders if this is normal—your words are true, are they not? the relationship between you is strictly professional isn’t it?

he takes a sip of his water, unsure of what the rapid beating of his heart indicates anymore.

“we’re just friends, but i show up to her house every time i’m drunk. that doesn’t mean anything though, does it?” — ALHAITHAM

you open the door before he can even knock. his muddled brain should register that he should be embarrassed by that, but he’s too busy trying to keep his balance as he looks at you.

“oh haitham,” you chuckle, shaking your head, “i was wondering when you’d show up.”

“’m late?” he slurs, making you look at him in amusement as you gently grab his wrist and pull him in.

“did you have fun? you never stay out this long even at the tavern,” you murmur, gently helping him settle down on your couch.

there’s a glass of water waiting for him, one you delicately place to his lips and help him drink from as you sit next to him. even drunk, alhaitham can feel the searing burn of your thigh pressed against his—a heat he doesn’t mind, but it fogs his senses even more than they already are.

“beat cyno in tcg,” he says between sips, “i won.”

“good job,” you snort, “did he take it well?”

“no,” he laughs—it’s a giddy thing, one he lets out a bit more freely than his normal self would.

alhaitham is like that when he’s drunk: free and loose and something on the edge of vulnerable in a way you never get to see him. you smile at him, watching as he slumps back and sighs softly, rubbing his eyes.

“’m hungry,” he murmurs, making you roll your eyes fondly.

“i know,” you nod in amusement, “you practically eat my fridge whole every time.”

in the morning, alhaitham will be embarrassed. he’ll wake up on your soft couch and register that he’s done this again (most couches break his back, but yours somehow feels homely. soft and warm and smells like you to the point that he thinks it’s better than his own bed). he’ll tell himself that it won’t happen again next week, and that he’ll drink in moderation and force kaveh to bring him straight home—but somehow, just like the week before, he lands himself on your familiar couch, waking to the smell of coffee hitting his nose as you make it the way he likes.

it’s not a bad thing to get used to, in all truthfulness. but he’s no fool, he knows exactly what’s slowly developing in his stoic little heart, and he doesn’t think this build up of familiarity is helping his case any further. he doesn’t know if the build up exists for you either—maybe you’re just a nice enough person and good enough friend to let it all happen every week. just happy to give him a safe place to sleep the alcohol out from his system.

if he had a rational thought in his brain, maybe he’d ask you. blunt and to the point as he always is. but then again, even blunt and rational alhaitham gets bested by emotions every once in a while. especially the kind of emotions that are dangerously possible of being unrequited.

but regardless, rational alhaitham is out of the equation for now. right now, drunk, tired, hungry, and irrational alhaitham has taken over. he’ll have to worry about what drunk alhaitham does tomorrow when he’s sober, not right now.

“did you make my favorite?” he asks hopefully, almost childlike in the way his eyes peer at you as they wait for your answer.

they brighten when you nod, grinning as you say, “yes, i did. i always do, don’t i?”

“yeah,” he sighs contentedly, closing his eyes as he pulls the soft blanket you keep just for him over his body, a half-hearted attempt at covering himself as you slowly rise from his side.

the phantom linger of your thigh against his makes him realize he misses the touch, even if it clears his mind from the fog just a little to not be so near you.

“wait,” he says suddenly—you pause. he doesn’t know what’s compelled him to say that (he doesn’t know what compels him to do anything he does around you, but he’s here in this situation for that very reason, so there’s not much to be done there).

“yeah?” you say softly, waiting for him to speak.

“just…” he pauses. why did he stop you? is it because he has something to say? or is it simply because he knows as soon as you feed him dinner, he’ll pass out on your couch, and you’ll retire to your room for the night, and there will end the fleeting moment of having you all to himself? “just stay, that’s all,” he ends up saying.

archons know he’d never say that sober. it’s surprising enough as is when he’s drunk, but you don’t let the shock settle for long—endearment is quick to take over.

you snort before shaking your head, settling back down beside him as you whisper, “you’re the one who said you’re hungry.”

“i’ll eat later,” he frowns. you’re laughing at him, aren’t you? he should be embarrassed, maybe. but that touch of your thigh is back, and he can’t think straight enough to keep his sense of humility in tact.

“you know,” you murmur, delicately pushing back slightly sweaty hair from his flushed forehead, looking at him with enough care, he might think you feel the same if he wasn’t so drunk—but he’s simply too out of it to really understand what emotion your gaze holds. “if only you were as bold sober as you are drunk.”

he leans into your touch, closing his eyes and pressing into the warm embrace of your palm against his skin. it lingers—you don’t pull away any quicker than him, and the result is just a step closer that will only be two steps back by the morning.

still, the both of you enjoy it all the same.

“i’m bold all the time,” he insists.

“i wouldn’t say that,” you huff in amusement. “you don’t really speak your mind around me.”

“i do,” he argues, “i like coming here to you. you’re warm. and so is this couch. and your food’s good.”

“yeah?” you giggle, letting your fingers brush over his hair some more. he hums, nodding as he closes his eyes, yawning.

“mhm,” he barely gets out, “it’s the best part.”

“of what? drinking?”

“no,” he shakes his head, “of…of…i don’t know. just the best part.”

it’s the best part of my week, he’d tell you, if only the words could form on his tongue. he’s too blanketed by the embrace of your warmth and sleep to actually say them.

“tell me all this when you’re sober,” you whisper, tracing a thumb delicately over his cheek before you pull away, pulling the edges of the blanket along to cover him properly. he protests at the loss of your touch with a quiet sound, but sleep pulls him into its clutches quick enough that it doesn’t last too long. “maybe then, i’ll believe you when you say you’re bold all of the time.”

“we’re just friends, but i’d kill just about anyone for her if they so much as look at her weirdly. i can get away with it, can’t i?” — AYATO

ayato thinks if anyone manages to assassinate him one day, then they should be allowed to get away with it with no consequences. by now, he’s confident enough that he’s honed his abilities to be sharp. so sharp, that anyone who manages to so much as touch him is an opponent who has earned to get away with their crimes.

you, however, do not apply to this sentiment.

anyone who so much as touches you, in his eyes, is worthy of far worse than just consequences. he thinks the shogun herself could not hope to save them from his blade.

but for now, there are other pressing matters than to pursue the individual who has managed to attack you on your evening stroll with him—he’ll have the shuumatsuban swiftly investigate and handle the culprit accordingly. for now, he’s more concerned with you.

“are you alright?” he asks gently, helping you stand as you slowly take his outstretched hand. there’s a small quiver in your hand as it clasps his, and his jaw grits slightly at the fact.

“yes,” you breathe quietly, trying to hide the tremor in your voice. ayato can detect it instantly, however. he’s good at reading anyone, but especially you. “i’m alright, my lord,” you reassure.

he frowns, for more reasons than one. “ayato,” he corrects, “no need for formalities.”

“oh, ayato,” you chuckle softly, despite the earlier distress in your features, “as much as you don’t care about appearances, i mustn’t be caught addressing the yashiro commissioner so…improperly. what would people think?”

“that you’re deeply familiar to the yashiro commission,” he says simply, “as you are. it’s only the truth.”

you hum, dusting off the dirt from your dress as you inspect your clothing of any tears. ayato keeps his hand securely on yours, and it doesn’t seem as though he’s looking to let go in the current moment—you don’t necessarily take it upon yourself to remove yourself from his grasp, either.

“well, that was quite the surprise, wasn’t it?” you try to poke fun at the situation, a light attempt to diffuse the clear tension in his brows and shoulders.

ayato doesn’t answer, only taking you in carefully himself, running his eyes up and down your figure as if to make sure there are no injuries for himself. he’s still as pristine as ever, you note—although, it’s not as though the attacker was even close to touching him. he’d retaliated faster than you had even registered there was someone else in your vicinity.

the thought makes you realize how accustomed he must be to assassination attempts—a thought that makes your face drop.

and it must be apparent too, because he asks, “why the long face, all of a sudden?”

you flush in embarrassment. he’s cunning as always, that one. always one step ahead and so good at reading you, you might think he himself holds the pen that writes your every move in crisp, clear scribbles.

“nothing,” you mumble, sighing softly as you shrug, “i suppose it only just dawned on me how effortlessly you evaded such a fate. it must be a normal occurrence for the yashiro commissioner if you’re so…prepared.”

“ah,” he grins, slightly amused as he chuckles, “i suppose it is, yes. nothing to concern yourself over, on the contrary. i am very well prepared, indeed. however, i hadn’t prepared well enough for this stroll it seems, my lady. you must forgive me—next time, i’ll have the shuumatsuban keep an eye out as well.”

“i feel safe enough in your company alone, my lor—ayato,” you correct yourself as soon as you notice the smile drop from the corners of his mouth, “but i can’t help but feel regretful that it’s normal for you to assign additional help to ensure the safety of those close to you. it shouldn’t be necessary for you to be so cautious simply for holding people dear.”

“and do you feel as such?” he teases, “that i hold you dear?”

your face feels hot to the touch, you think, heat creeping to your ears as you look away and clear your throat. ayato is a quick witted man, his words as sharp as ever, meant to apply pressure to the weakest of points.

you’re no exception, it seems. though, he has a bit of a softer approach with you.

“w-well, we’re certainly not strangers,” you huff, “if someone as busy as the yashiro commissioner sets aside time to take an evening stroll with me, i would hope it’s safe to assume we’re quite dear friends.”

friend is starting to seem like a generous word. ayato is a good man, respectable and compassionate enough that he can maintain such a powerful position free of any corruption. but he realizes that respect and compassion are difficult to maintain when it comes to someone harming you.

he wonders, for a brief, fleeting moment, if he could be trusted to keep a calm composure if he were to come face to face with whoever attacked you in the future.

he thinks there’s a large chance that the answer is no, and he’s oddly not bothered by the idea at all.

“i do hold you quite dear,” he says kindly, voice softening an octave, “it is why i must ensure your safety. rest assured, events like today’s won’t happen again.”

“i hope you put as much energy into your own safety,” you counter, “i think inazuma would suffer more greatly if anything were to happen to you, rather than me.”

“i would disagree,” he says with an amused grin, “what disarray the nation would befall if the yashiro commissioner was grief stricken, don’t you think? unable to perform his duties.”

“would you grieve me so deeply, ayato?” it’s your turn to tease, stepping closer as you eye him with playful mischief, “would my absence alone call for the downfall of the nation? then it would only be proper of me to look after myself more carefully, if that’s the case.”

“yes,” he says softly, hesitant for a moment as though admitting as such is enough to admit the more…complicated feelings in his heart. “there is nothing i wouldn’t do to ensure your safety.”

he says the words a touch too seriously—it shocks even him. surely, if limits simply don’t exist if it comes to you, friend is not a term deep enough to truly describe what you are to him.

he wonders if friend feels as much of an injustice to your relationship to you as it does to him.

“i would grieve you too, ayato,” you admit, squeezing the hand he never pulled away, “would you keep yourself safe just for me?”

“do you doubt me?” he chuckles, raising an eyebrow, “i’ve never failed thus far, have i?”

“perhaps not,” you hum, stepping closer, “but just to be sure.”

“then for you,” he carefully pulls you along, falling back into step with you as his hand keeps yours still firmly in his grasp, “i will ensure my own wellbeing just as sacredly as yours.”

someone revoke my access to the word “fond” this instant. i think i got whiplash from how often i used it but i literally don’t know what other word describes “fond” as good as “fond” 😭 anyway!!! kamisato “i would draw my blade to the shogun herself for my love” ayato!!! what a man!!!

#wriothesley x reader #neuvillette x reader #alhaitham x reader #ayato x reader #genshin x reader #wriothesley x you #neuvillette x you #alhaitham x you #ayato x you #genshin x you #wriothesley fluff #neuvillette fluff #alhaitham fluff #ayato fluff #genshin fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact fluff #euthymiya.writing

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kaiser-s-bitch · 2 years ago

Note

I like to think that Ayato is a very gentle and generous lover, but in bed he can be quite selfish and rough. So I would like to request Ayato taking his female s/o on an extravagant date being sweet the whole time and then spending the night together at the kamisato estate with a complete personality change 👀

Hey hunny, thank you for the ask!

I agree with your hc for the most part, tho I do feel like he would still always make sure you’re ok and being "selfish" would still mean spoiling you in the end lol, but anyways: hope you enjoy~

————————————————————————

Kamisato Ayato || gentleman in the streets, rough in the sheets (sfw & nsfw)

• as the Yashiro Commissioner and head of the Kamisato clan, Ayato is a man that is used to keeping up appearances under all circumstances

• he knows his responsibilities and honors them meticulously, which results in him rarely (if ever) being able to really let go

• as his partner, you were one of those responsibilities, and Ayato would always make sure to take you out on a proper date once a month minimum to make up for at least some of the time he’s spent working

• and when the Yashiro Commissioner takes his love out on a date, you can bet your sweet ass it’s gonna be fancy

• you mean the world to him and he wants you to feel appreciated in every way possible, so he only ever gives you the best of everything, treating you like a queen throughout the whole evening

• the restaurant he takes you to is fancy and expensive enough as is, yet he’s additionally arranged a secluded room for the two of you to dine in

• he holds the door open and pulls your chair back for you like a true gentleman, his every movement, no matter how simple, deliberate and graceful - years of training having shaped him into this form and making it hard for him to ever really unwind

• with a pleased smirk gracing his features, he compliments you on the fine dress you are wearing tonight (that he had gifted you the day prior for this occasion), the intricately laced fabric bearing witness to its quality

• "Indeed, I wonder just what drove me to wear this particular one today… I guess I just have immaculate taste" you flash him a playful smile that earns you an amused chuckle, Ayato slightly lifting his glass of wine towards you with a "Touché"

• despite his distinct exterior formality, Ayato certainly hadn’t forgotten that it was you he was dining with, not some business partner of his

• so after the two of you had received your orders and were left alone, the commissioner was finally able to loosen up just a little, enjoying some playful banter with you but mainly inquiring about and patiently listening to how and what you’ve been doing recently

• the two of you rarely get the chance to really catch up with each other, whenever he finishes work in the evening he’s usually not in the mood to talk much, his body aching for some well-deserved rest

• but on this fine evening, it seemed like both of you had all the time in the world and neither of you was gonna let that go to waste

• and remember, it’s not only your needs that more often than not go unfulfilled due to his demanding job: Ayato himself has to cut down lots of his own as well, which obviously also includes spending some quality time with you

• despite his usual polite and calm manner, his wandering gaze and lingering touches throughout the evening did not slip your attention

• and how could they? you were absolutely basking in them, hungry more like STARVED for his undivided attention, leaning forward to grant him a good look down your cleavage every now and then to make sure his attention stayed on you (as if that was necessary lmao)

• you eventually finished up your dinner and made your way home (why do I feel like this man would order you a carriage-), which is when you thanked him for taking the time and going to the trouble of taking you on this date

• Ayato sighs heavily in response "My sweet darling.. after all this time we’ve been together, you still believe anything I do with or for you classifies as "trouble" to me?"

• his piercing gaze didn’t falter as he gently lifted up your chin to make you look at him, clearly expecting an answer from you

• "I… guess not" you reply after a short pause, I mean how could you genuinely think it was with the way he’s been treating you? even a blind man could see that he clearly enjoyed spoiling you

• in spite of your previous efforts of getting his facade to crack just a bit by using your charms before getting home, the head of the Kamisato clan did not break character until the bedroom door was closed and safely locked behind you

• this was by far not the first time you’ve seen this switch with him, yet it would never get old

• and you know this man’s bedroom eyes hit different

• he’s sitting on the edge of your shared bed, beckoning you to come sit on his lap with a mere flicker of his eyes

• and just who were you to refuse?

• while kissing and biting at your neck, his nimble fingers quickly find their way up your thighs and eventually sneak under your dress, the man below you licking his lips in excitement when he finds you wearing no panties underneath

• "My naughty little girl…", he whispered right next to your ear, and next thing you know you’re sprawled out on your back, hands tied above your head with a silky ribbon

• you’d been together with him for quite a while already, and the two of you had long established the do‘s and don‘t‘s for the bedroom

• yet every time you got intimate, Ayato made sure to ask you whether you still remembered your safe word, not proceeding until you’ve repeated it for him

• there’s very few ways for him to let out his pent-up frustrations, and you always loved being the one to help him unwind even if just for a limited time

• you knew how badly he needed it and honestly… you felt no shame admitting you did too

• at times like these, he would constantly manhandle you into different positions, indulging and relishing in the soft warmth you’re so willingly offering him

• and gosh did he love you for this (not only for this ofc but you get my point)

• he often ended up spanking you quite a lot in the process, fascinated by the distinct handprints of his forming on your ass cheeks

• meanwhile his thrusts are quick but precise, his muscle memory allowing him to hit just the spots inside of you that made you see stars in record time while simultaneously rubbing your clit

• after all, the closer you got to your climax, the more you tightened around him and the better it felt for him as well

• this was a rare occasion where he could fully let himself go and let his carnal instincts and desires take over, using your body for his pleasure

• but you most definitely didn’t mind in the slightest, in fact, you were enjoying yourself to the fullest as well

• merely being able to do this for your man made you happy, but it wasn’t like you were being neglected either

• Ayato made sure you didn’t need to do much of the work at all, it was more than enough for him if you just did your best to be a good girl and hold still for him

• but even so, he would only ever allow himself to be selfish for so long

• once his most urgent needs were satisfied, it was always your turn

• he does prefer fingering you over giving you head, simply due to the fact that it allows him to properly monitor your facial expressions the whole time and whisper dirty little things to you, taking note of what made you moan louder or clench around his digits harder

• well it’s not like he doesn’t already know, but he still enjoys playing around and experimenting a bit with his favorite (and only) little fucktoy

• he definitely takes immense pride in being able to satisfy you, besides - like I mentioned before - he genuinely enjoys spoiling his darling, so there’s no way he would ever turn around and leave you wanting

• so needless to say… both of you would be absolutely spent and blissed out by the end of the night, and you already couldn’t wait for the next date night to come up~

#for some reason I struggled a lot with this #but it’s finished so here we are #my writing stuff #genshin impact #genshin ayato #kamisato ayato #ayato kamisato #genshin hcs #genshin x reader #genshin lemon

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oomles · 3 years ago

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Hey guys, I'm sorry I’ve been so quiet on... pretty much everything lately. I genuinely apologize for not saying much until now, it’s just been.. A Time. So here’s a kinda long / kinda bummer life update.

For those who don’t know, I’ve been attempting to move out of Montana for the first time to pursue broader horizons in California. And long story short, it has been the most stressful and mentally taxing times I’ve experienced in a very very long while.

We started applying to places weeks ago, and have probably sent in apps to over 60 properties in 8+ cities by now. As of the time of typing this post, not a single landlord has accepted our applications. We were expected to be leaving two days ago, but we were able to beg our current landlord to extend our lease by a week.

The biggest deterant we’ve experience is that none of us have secured a “real” job in Cali yet. We’ve applied to so many locations in 3 hour radius to just try and get ourselves out there, but we can’t be employed when we don’t know where we’ll live and we can’t live where we don’t know where we’ll be employed. So a lot of landlords straight up won’t consider us even though we have plenty saved up / am self employeed.

I truly apologize to all my commissioners who have been put on hold because of this. I had fully intended to be caught up on everything before I caught covid last month, but then, well, I caught covid. Your patience has been more than appreciated. And to all the people currently in the queue waiting on their plush commission, I’d be more than willing to toss in some free art / merch to make up for it. I normally pride myself on my quick commission process, so not being to work on anything while I apply / pack has been super demoralizing...

In all honesty I’ve been having an extremely hard time keeping my chin up. If we don’t get a place confirmed before the 20th, we might have to just drive down to Cali anyway and hope we can find a place in person. Full stop - that terrifies me. It’s already scary enough moving out of my hometown, let alone leaving without a place secured. If it does come to that, I might have to give my axolotl up for adoption and it just... breaks my heart. I can keep her if I know where we’re going, but if we still don’t have a solid place to be it’ll be too hard to care for her...

I’ve spent most of my nights crying out of anxiety and stress, and it’s been just... so incredibly taxing. I was on top of the world earlier this year, and now my mental health has plummeted to scary depths that I haven’t felt in years. It’s been hard to do pretty much anything these days. (Shout out to the suicide crisis line, yall are real ones and genuinely helped me a few nights ago).

So uhhh. Idk. I just wanted to tell everyone what’s what. I’m sorry that I haven’t been social or been sharing anything of value, I just wanted to share what I’ve been up to when I’m not online. I’m hoping and praying for the best, but trying to prepare myself for the worst. Thanks for being so patient with me everyone, it’s genuinely really appreciated. I’m sorry if I’ve let any of you guys down...

#long post #personal junk

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sovhina · 2 years ago

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I wanna thank the rest of my commissioners for being so patient I promise I am toiling away between schoolwork. I think there’s like three left and two are kind of a doozy so I work slow generally but I’m also working slow bc I want them to come out as good as possible <3 anyway yeah just thank you <3333 I promise you’re not forgotten and just a reminder that I give updates whenever you want! My dms are always open on both my tumblrs and discord! Please don’t hesitate to contact me! <3

#update #comms update #so close to the finish line #it’s bittersweet cuz a break is gonna be great but I also really do love drawing peoples ocs and bringing their visions to life #it makes me so happy to make others happy with my art and do their ocs justice I hope #I’ve done like 10 comms idk why I’m acting like I haven’t been doing anything since July SKSKKS #I’ve been very busy

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wandawiccan60 · 3 years ago

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“Black Rose” A Bane/OC Story

Part 2: A New Spark

A/N: Hello guys its me again and thank you guys for reading my first chapter of Black Rose. And yes I know it took me a long time to take out part 2 but I finally got it out now so yayyy!!!🙂🙂🙂. I hope you guys enjoy this next part and again thank you to @jarvisrocks I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as the first part. And I want to also thank to @kittycatcait219 for wanting this story to continue and I appreciate the support and feedback it means alot to me as a writer. Again thank you for requesting part 2 and I hope you enjoy enjoy the long awaited chapter. Please as always enjoy everyone!!!

WARNING!!!: 18+ ONLY!!! Some cursing, and some violence

Word Count: 3,782

Present Day:

The sound of Alina’s alarm clock next to her nightstand went off. She groaned and shifted to the side, and turned the alarm off with a small sigh. She wasn’t a morning person, but today was an important day to think about, not knowing what awaits.

Her door to her apartment room was knocking, and she stood up from her bed while putting on her pants and made her way to the door. As she opens the door, Talia, her adoptive sister, smiles at her.

“Hey Talia, please come in. Did you get the chance to talk to Bruce the other night about your investment project, as you call it?”

“They told me he couldn’t be present that night. He didn’t want to speak to anybody seems like he wanted to be left alone. But anyway, did you get the job as a journalist at the GCPD Headquarters?” said Talia while they both sat down on a brown table next to a window looking out through the city.

“I got the job just really nervous if any of these coppers try to get under my skin, that’s like the last thing I want to worry about the most really from this destructive city,” Alina said not liking how this will go down in the next couple days.

“Alina, you’ll be fine. I know you will. Remember what Bane and I have taught you? Trust nobody and take whatever it is necessary to do and show no mercy, you understand?” Talia said, placing a hand above Alina’s hands.

“I understand sister, I just want to get this over with I would rather be there with him out there doing more than just being a ridiculous person going around and making up nonsense stories or whatever people read nowadays,” Alina said in an annoyed tone.

“Alina, please trust me, it’ll be for just a few days until the time comes. I promise you that Bane would want to see us out there together. We all will rise once this city is under our hands. Remember what your purpose and destiny is when you joined us in The League of Shadows. My father’s legacy depends on you, me, and Bane. It is our purpose.”

Alina just nodded her head, knowing very well she had to be patient, knowing that her time to rise will come sooner than she thought. She just has to deal with a lot of cops, which Alina knows some of them are corrupt themselves, but she knows there are still the good ones out there, like Commissioner James Gordon. She knows he is one of the good cops in Gotham. Alina has heard him talk in the news, knowing that he is a man who finds justice and meaning to stop criminals that deserve to be in chains. She did to a certain level agree with the commissioner about what he says and does for this chaotic city.

“I know Talia. I know what my protocol is. I know my position, and I know your father will be proud of you once we have this city under our control in the end.”

“I know he’ll be proud of all three of us you’ll see and before I go, Bane is asking for you. He didn’t tell me why, but he wants to see you tonight.”

Alina got anxious whenever Bane asks her if it was for a task he wants her to do or just another training exercise for her to do. Both Alina and Bane rarely had any time together like father and daughter ever since he took her in. But ever since his mindset has been focusing on taking over Gotham and bringing down Bruce Wayne with it, she felt as if he doesn’t care about her as before. Like she means nothing to him anymore. It’s like being ignored once again, just like her old family.

But the times she had with him while she was being trained by the League, he will always talk about his younger years before he met Ra’s, his time in The Pit, helping her sister get out from prison, and also he would tell Alina about how grateful he is to have her as his daughter. But her most favorite moments were when he would teach her how to knit and take long walks in the wintertime. It was one of the best moments and times that she felt alive once

“Well, I wonder what he wants me to do this time. But thank you, Talia, for letting me know I’ll see him tonight. Just know I don’t sometimes like it when he asks for me.”

Talia just chuckled under her breath, which she knows about Alina’s relationship with Bane. She also before would spend most of her time with Alina while he wasn’t around. The things that the two would do is talk for hours about anything, her time in The Pit while Bane looked after her, stories of her father, and most of all Talia was like the big sister Alina never thought she would ask for in a long time.

Alina always wished for a big sister back when she was in Maine. Since she was the only child, she always wanted to have some company and have someone to at least talk to and feel safe whenever she felt scared or just need a shoulder to cry on. Which she never had the chance to experience, but now that she has Talia in her life, Alina felt lucky to have her around. Even though they aren’t blood-related, it still feels as if Talia was the sister she could have never had.

Now that she is 24 years old, she never thought for a moment about wanting to have a normal life. She never had time to have some friends or even think about dating boys. She knows that deep down if anybody knew about her true identity, she knows people will get hurt or get killed. That’s why she always kept to herself throughout her teenage years and only had Bane and Talia as her only loyal friends and family to talk to and trust the most. Which she is grateful to have, but at some points when she is by herself, she sometimes wished she had a friend or mostly someone to love at least.

“Very well, my dear. And Alina, just know that I love you and I care about you always I'll never stop worrying about you I know we all haven’t had time to talk just the three of us alone but just so you know that Bane also loves you very much. Just know that we are still here for you and if there’s something you need to talk about or need don't hesitate to talk to me or Bane ok?"

"Yes, sister I know I love you both as well just miss seeing and talking to you both that's all but I know how our plan to take over Gotham is important to us three just hope that once this is over we could maybe get away from Gotham and start a new life just the three of us, I don't know if you ever thought about that before," Alina said which Talia then nodded her head which she has been thinking about that for a while.

"I would like that as well I do. After Gotham is down to ashes we will go somewhere far away and leave forget about this city completely I promise you on that and so will Bane it'll be just the three of us I cross my heart," Talia said as she cross her heart with he index finger.

"And hope to die?" Alina said both sisters chuckled at the same time.

"Alright you silly girl, I'll see you later please be safe out there tonight, and remember don't trust anyone and go straight to Bane after you get out of work, understand?"

"I understand sister it was nice seeing you again and you be safe out there too, I'll reach out to you if I need anything."

Talia then just nodded her head and then she made her way to the door but before she open the door she then remembered about the necklace that she brought for Alina.

"Alina I almost forgot as well, I found this in your old room before we went to go train with the League," Talia said to which she then handed her a small black squared box to her sister.

Alina then open the little box and inside it was her old necklace that was given to her by Nancy. She forgot about this old necklace which she still remembered that devastating day and it still haunted her.

"My old necklace, thank you Talia I thought I lost it forever but thank you," Alina said to which she then hugged her sister.

"Your welcome little sister, again please be safe and I'll see you again soon," she said, and then she made her way to the door, and then she was gone.

Alina was now alone in her apartment to which she could just only hear the sounds of the city outside of her window. She then looked back at her old necklace which she then placed around her neck feeling the cold silver chain on her skin. A small smile now spread on her lips seeing the piece of jewelry on her neck feeling in a good way complete once again.

__________________________________________

5 Years Ago Somewhere Outside of Gotham:

“Again but with more speed,” said the head trainer who Alina then placed herself in her stance position for the 8th time.

As she raised her sword out in front of her opponent, the man older than Alina then also placed himself back in his stance position, raising his sword towards her as well. As they both were in their ready forms, the trainer then yell out fight in another language to which Alina then took the first move.

After circling and clanking their swords twice, her opponent then tried to stab her in the chest, but Alina was quicker. As she then blocked the sword and twirl a bit and hit him in the face with her right elbow making him stumble back a bit and without warning she crouch kick his legs and tumbled down to the ground and placed her sword on top of his neck while catching her breath.

“Enough Alina, well done. You have quite the spirit. I am impressed. However, we will continue with your training tomorrow morning before the sun rises. You are all dismissed.”

Alina then nodded her head toward the head trainer, who then put away her sword in a wooden black box that was given to her on the first day of training.

“You have done well today my Alina, you have a gift in handling that sword of yours I am very surprised with the way you put down your opponent to the ground, which has never been seen in years until now,” said Bane to which he then stood next to Alina while she finished putting away her weapon.

“Thank you father, I never thought I would have that in me. It just came out of me naturally like as if I must have known this before in a past life.”

Bane then placed a hand on Alina’s right shoulder, which was a way of showing her how proud he was of her. Bane has seen Alina grow progressively since the first day she joined The League. He knew that once she picked the sword up; he saw something in Alina that he knew right from the start she would one day she will become let herself get put down easily before anything else. Since the night he took her in, he knew that teaching her the ways of The League would strengthen her,

“Come with me. There is something that I want to show you and you should know about,” Bane said while he took her left hand in his huge right hand. They made their way out of the training room into a long, dimly black corridor.

When they reached the bottom of the building, they then approached a dark red door with the Leagues’ symbol in the middle of it, and then Bane opened the door. And inside Alina saw what looked to be a knob sword cane that was displayed on top of an elegant black table while next to it was a black uniform displayed in all of its glory while the smell of dragon’s blood surrounded the dimly lit room with red and white candles. And above the items stood also a portrait of a man who she believed to be behind The League of Shadows Ra’s Al Ghul.

“You may wonder what is this place and who is that man in the picture. That man right there, Alina, is Ra’s Al Ghul himself. A long time ago, I protected and saved your sister Talia from The Pit, and after that, he then trained me, but we both didn’t see eye to eye, so they dismissed me from the group. He thought my beliefs were too extreme for his agenda, but that’s when he left for Gotham and it changed everything.”

Alina then stepped forward and placed a hand on the sword that belong to the great mercenary. She could feel the power and spirit of Ra’s Al Ghul like he was calling to her.

“What happen to him after he left for Gotham?”

“The Batman happened, Ra’s once trained him when he brought him in, but he then betrayed his master thinking that our ways about justice were wrong and that’s when he killed him that day. But now Talia and I have taken Ra’s place and we will continue what he started. We are the start of a new era for The League.”

Alina then looked up at the man on the portrait, who she couldn’t understand why would Ra's would come here to Gotham and for what was the purpose. Then she walked next to the black uniform that was worn by him and that is when Bane told her something that she would never forget.

“I brought you here for a reason, my little rose. I see potential in you, and so does Talia. She and I think you are the one who Ra's has been looking and been waiting for that The Batman couldn’t be. His successor, once when I and Talia aren’t here anymore, you will guide the group to continue following in the footsteps of your sister, me, and Ra’s Al Ghul. you will be the next leader and the new master of The League of Shadows and always remember this Alina. It is your destiny, your purpose, and your calling for the future of The League that is in your hands. I know you might not understand right now what I mean, my love, but once the day you are ready, you will know what I mean.”

Alina then raised Ra's sword in her hands. It felt somewhat heavy in the palm of her hands, which then Bane helped Alina bring the sword a little higher, and guided her to do some swings here in there. This made Alina smile up at her father to which underneath his mask a smile spread through his face, even if she couldn’t see it with her own eyes.

Bane then placed the sword back on the black table, which he then bent on one knee and bowed his head towards the portrait of Ra’s Al Ghul. Alina watch her father confusingly do this, but she then walked next to him and made the same gesture as he did. This made Bane look down at her daughter and place a hand on her shoulder, not knowing what the future will lie ahead for his little Alina, his little rose, her future inside The League.

______________________________________

Alina was trying her best to come up with a story relating to the disappearance of The Batman. She has heard the stories about the vigilante hero who, as the rumors go, killed Harvey Dent, the White Knight of Gotham, and that they blamed The Bat for murdering him with his bare hands. Or so they say. However, as she is part of The League, Talia and Bane have told her about who The Batman truly is. And that is when the first time she was told about Bruce Wayne who was the same man who killed Ra’s Al Ghul his student who was trained and was supposed to be Ra's successor. But he instead became the creature of the night and stopped bringing Gotham down to its knees, which then made her realize who the real enemy was.

As Alina tried her best to finish up this last page, she made her way to the small kitchen that was across from her desktop to refill her paper cup with coffee. As she made her way inside, she accidentally bumped into someone she didn’t see and got a bit of water trenched in her black long sleeve shirt.

“Oh, shit I’m so sorry miss, here let me get you a napkin to dry that off,” said the person who was making his way to get a couple of napkins from the small kitchen counter.

“It’s fine don’t worry the watermarks don’t. show please, it’s not a big dea-,” said Alina, to which he looked up from her shirt to the person who spilled the drink at her.

Alina couldn’t let any more words out of her mouth, since the person she was seeing in front of her was handsome. He was wearing his black uniform clothes,

“Are you sure? I mean, since it’s a pretty chilly night, you wouldn’t want to freeze yourself out there more. Again I’m sor-,”

“Look I said it’s fine it’ll just dry off by itself but thank you it’s unnecessary and I’m in a hurry to finish this stupid article I’m writing about and I want to go home soon,” Alina said which she made her way around the man and went to the coffee stand behind him.

“Hey no problem, I was just being helpful. Sorry for getting in your way,” the young officer said while he defensively raised his hands.

Alina sighed underneath her breath, trying her best to keep herself relaxed. While she finished filling in her cup with coffee, she then made her way back to her desktop but on the corner of her right eye. She saw the young officer talking to one of his other cop buddies about some case he has been working on for a while. She tried her best to get this story done as much as she could, but every time she tried to think of something, her mind would go back to the guy she bumped with. All she could see in her mind was him, not knowing why she felt some type of vibe towards this man.

After what seemed about an hour later, she then made her way out of the headquarters and off to see Bane down into the deepest depths of the underground sewers of Gotham. As she made a turn around the corner at the end of the street, she then, to her surprise, ran into the same young cop from earlier.

“Sorry mis-, oh hey it’s you again, well what a coincidence isn’t it?” said the young cop to which Alina. She shrugged her shoulders, trying her best not to make eye contact with him.

“Yes, what a coincidence, hmm,” Alina said while they both stood there. An awkward silence fell upon the two, and then he finally spoke a moment later.

“So umm, I guess have a good night since you told me you wanted to go back home quickly but I guess I’ll see you around,” He said while making his way towards one car that was parked behind him.

“Wait, um, I wanted to say I’m sorry for acting like a straight-up bitch earlier to you. It’s just that I sometimes have a hard time not talking to other people outside of my bubble, and I don’t socialize much either, I sometimes keep things to myself but I wanted to say again that I’m sorry and I have just been feeling quite uneasy lately too.”

It surprised Alina to hear herself say sorry to a stranger that she had just met tonight. It was such a big step for her personality that it made her feel embarrassed and weak at the same time. They taught her to never feel remorse or forgiveness for anyone in particular, especially for someone who worked for the law.

“Hey, it’s alright. I know what you mean. I sometimes have those days too, believe me. You don’t need to apologize, and...damn, it’s getting cold out here. Umm if you don't mind me asking but if you like I can give you a lift, I insist?”

Alina wanted to decline the offer at first, but he was right it was getting chilly out here since it’s already winter here in Gotham. While she tried her best to make up an excuse to say no to the young cop, but deep down she really would like to get out of the cold. As the young man waited for a response, she then just then gave up and in her mind, she said fuck it.

"That's very kind of you and I appreciate it I guess we should get going then," Alina said while the young cop nodded in response both of them walking towards the black car together.

"By the way, I didn't catch your name, what's your name if you don't mind me asking?" said the young man to which Alina thought for a moment if she should either use her real name or her fake name. Knowing that she has to be undercover but something about this cop she in some weird way could trust him.

It is quite rare for her to even be talking to someone that she knows works for the GCPD but this one was different from the others.

"It's..., Alina, please to meet you, and what about yours?"

"Blake, John Blake, it's a pleasure to meet you," he said while he opened the door to Alina to which she smiled to him and made her way inside the car.

And just like that Alina and John drive off into the cold night not knowing that both of their lives will be drastically changed forever.

____________________________

A/N: Thank you so much guys for reading my new chapter. I know that there wasn't as much in this chapter as the first one and I decided to also spark a relationship between Alina and Blake but I guarantee you guys that the next chapter will be better promise!!!😅😅😅 Again thank you guys for the support and sticking around as always and I'll catch you guys again very soon. See Ya!!!🥰🥰🥰

#bane fanfic #bane #tom hardy #john blake #John Blake X OC #Batman the dark knight rises #tom hardy fanfic #fanfic

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yandere-society · 4 years ago

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Moonlight

Pairing: Taehyung x Female Reader

Synopsis: Taehyung was a man of many things: handsome, young, rich, the reigning lord of the Kim manor. He was a man adored, a man respected. But beneath the studly exterior, he held a dark, demonic secret that floated towards the surface once every full moon. It was this secret that would unknowingly entangle you in his claws until there was no way out.

Word Count: 7.2k

Warnings: Yandere themes, Possessive Tae, Werewolves, Kidnapping mention, Sexual assault, Murder, Death, also it’s unedited cause I hate myself

Headline: Beast Of The Night Strikes Again! 2 Dead, Several Injured

Admin: @roses-ruby

The town suffers through another full moon of terror as the one described as the ‘dog beast’ struck again late last night. Lawmen are baffled at the carnage, describing the victims torn limbs and missing hearts as an act- “most definitely inhumane.” Townsfolk have stated that they heard the creature growl and moan for hours on end until it seemingly disappeared near the Kim manor. As for the owner of the manor, Kim Taehyung - an attractive bachelor who inherited his great grandfather’s land - refused to comment and dismissed the claims of such a being as “ludicrous and delusional.” Whatsoever it may be, the fact of the matter is that there is someone or something raging with bloodlust every time the moon shines its brightest and it might just be out for your heart next.

“It is truly incredible how some of the most credible news sources have begun to sound so half-witted these days… ‘attractive bachelor?’ Seems like you’re up for auction in the middle of this tragic incident…”

“It is a small town with unusually large tales…they’ll do anything to sell their trashy story…” He runs his fingers through his long black locks, a small huff of irritation leaving his lips.

“A story that will keep children up past midnight I’m sure…” The older gentleman places today’s paper back on the table and walks up to where the younger stood, matching his distant stare out the window. “The flowers were exceptionally beautiful in this year’s bloom. Such a shame they’ll be dead soon.”

It was a passive observation, one he didn’t have to respond to; however, it was his nature to always hold a firm stance on even the slightest of interactions. He hums in agreement, gazing out towards the colorfully green garden that his study overlooked. But rather than admiring the beauty of the large field, his eyes were instead hooked on a small figure bustling about the grounds in a long black dress.

“Master,” A calm voice interrupted him from his trance, “Shall I adjust your schedule in case you were to head into town today?”

His long-time butler, Seung, bowed quietly in his direction.

“No need.” He replies mindlessly.

“Now, now,” His uncle next him chuckled, the wrinkles around his eyes deepening, “It would do you good to show your handsome bust among the public. Your presence as Lord might provide some comfort…”

As if he should be the one comforting weeping mothers and terrified children.

He was about to decline the smiling face of this man who bore him nothing but animosity, but he was interrupted by his uncle’s careless gaze suddenly modifying into something additionally sinister.

“Or is it that you’re too tired for such a simple task? You look as if you have not slept in ages. Are you doing alright, perhaps?”

Other than the shiver that ran down Taehyung’s spine at his foxiness, he was unfazed by the weighty question. Usually, his feigned concern would make him chuckle, if he wasn’t so emotionally exhausted from last night’s events.

“I’m fine.” He turns to Seung without missing a beat, “Uncle is right. Get the carriage ready, I will be heading into town today.”

“Yes, Master.” Seung bows, but before he could quietly leave the room, Taehyung calls for him again. “And get my Uncle’s carriage ready for departure as well. I am sure at his age he would love nothing more than to be resting at home this very moment.”

There was a small confrontational silence between the senior and him after his loaded remark. But it vanished the very next second when his Uncle began to chuckle loudly, as if there was nothing but mirth between the two of them.

“You are right on the mark, young lad. As sharp as ever I see.” He spins around, walking back to the table he once sat at “I shall be out of your hair soon.”

Taehyung watches him as he picks up the paper he had been scrutinizing before he commences his departure from the chamber.

“Are you perhaps interested in the dog beast?”

“Why, not at all,” He responds calmly, turning to the younger with the same somber expression as before, “I just need some entertainment for the road. Surely, you don’t mind?”

He did not. For now, he desired his uncle’s departure the most. It was not as if he could see his own forthcoming demise stained in the ink of that paper.

Autumn’s cool breeze surrounds your body as you tend to the large grounds of the Kim manor, trimming off uneven stems from a massive rose bush.

“___,” A frantic voice suddenly calls your name, capturing your attention as your gaze falls down onto a petite figure dressed in a similar maid’s uniform running towards you, “___! Did you hear?”

“About?”

“Today’s paper!” Seulgi spoke out of breath, like it was the most obvious thing, “Those men…aren’t they the same lads who-”

“SSHHH!” You hiss, blocking her loudmouth with your palm. Her whines against your hand were similar to that of an adolescent as you whirled your head around the garden, making sure no one was near your vicinity. “I told you not to speak a word of that!”

Seulgi successfully tugs you off of her, “I know! But is it not bizarre? That beast attacked those men!”

“There is no beast!” You growled, “Everyone in town was aware that Wan and his men were good-for-nothing hooligans! They probably wandered into the forest late at night, drunk and belligerent, and attracted a bear!”

“Hmm, perhaps…” Seulgi pouts, “But what about the articles? All those farmers who lost their cattle the same exact way… with their hearts missin-”

“I’m sure those are nothing but carnivorous rodents.” You huff in irritation, picking up the sheers to return to your work. The girl besides you threw a tantrum using her feet, and you wonder when exactly it was that you befriended such a child. “Are you even done with your station or will I have to do that for you again after the Housekeeper is done scolding you?”

This manages to scare her off, and you watch her retreating figure in slight humor before turning back to the rosebush. As you snap another set of leaves, you manage to take a glance at the window of the lord’s study, apprehensively watching his back disappear further into his room.

All you’ve wanted from this manor and its lords was a chance to toil quietly – in peace. Your simple servant status does not offend you, rather it provides you security in relations with the world. You were not interested in meddling with anyone’s affair, especially with those who lived in powerful and dangerous realities. So, it does not matter.

What you saw last night, near the clearing behind the manor does not matter. It had nothing to do with you, and you were planning on keeping it that way.

Lord Kim was annoyed.

Really though, when was he not? As the carriage decelerates into the gates of his estate, his exhaustion only multiplies. Faking a straight face and an empty gaze took its toll on him, even if he had been playing theater his whole life. It was hard enough to keep up with this perfect charade as the lord of the manor, but it had just gotten worse with time…and with the incidents.

He was reluctant to head into town, leer over dismembered bodies and chat with the commissioner, but did so anyway thanks to his uncle’s instigation. It wasn’t like he had much of a choice - any sign of weakness would invite his extended family to sink their teeth and claws into him, wringing him dry within a matter of minutes. His father died too early and Taehyung did not bear a successor yet, so whoever would be the first to either exhaust, kill or seduce him would eventually take his place as lord. After being unfortunate enough to witness countless amounts of cruelty from them since age eight, he knew he had to keep his farce strong.

Common folk would think he was protecting his blessed birthright. But in a deep, hidden corner of his mind, the reality loomed that neither this life nor this manor was blessed in the slightest.

“We’re home, my lord.” His thoughts are interrupted as the carriage stops, the door opening to reveal a flawlessly still Seung waiting for him to disembark.

As he exited his carriage, his shoulders drooping and head spinning, his eyes managed to fall on you in the distance. You stood far away, underneath the stone canopy of the servant’s quarters, next to that bumbling friend of yours with your head bowed as the housekeeper shouted herself silly at the both you. It seems that you have once again found trouble thanks to the petite nitwit by your side.

Yet still, even with your gaze downcast, he could sense the poise in your stance. An aura of composure and self-confidence that has never left your being no matter where you stood, or who stood over you. At first, he just happened to relate to you and the notion of keeping together a tough act. But over time, he came to realize that you weren’t acting at all – that you, a mere servant, were as perfectly assured as you seemed.

It made him envious.

“Master?” Seung pulled him back to reality.

He turned away, scuffing his expensive shoes amongst the gravel to head into the direction of his manor. Yet still, after the small sight of you, he couldn’t help but smile to himself for the first time that night.

“Dinner is served.”

A tray was lifted to reveal a large pot of thick, saucy white soup. He had wanted something light ever since the previous night, and the chef had delivered quite nicely. Taehyung sits patiently, waiting to be served as the maidservants walk into the room with the housekeeper. His eyes immediately land on you out if habit, and he wonders if you were to tend to him tonight. But to his surprise, it’s your friend who comes up to the table to oblige him his dinner instead. She takes a ladle and dips it into the soup – just a minute, she forgot to pick up his soup bowl?

Realizing she forgot the bowl; she looks startled for a bit before she hovers a hand underneath the ladle and walks closer to his direction. He has to try really hard not to burst out into a fit of laughter as he witnesses you shake in fear at her antics. Seems like he was not the only one distracted because the very next second your friend trips over her own foot on the way to his bowl and loses her grip on the soup-filled ladle, which flies towards him.

And in an instant, his whole head was wet and runny with his dinner. It was quiet for the first minute – which appeared to have stretched out into hours for the servants – until many different voices began shouting at once.

“Y-young Master! T-Towel- I shall fetch a towel!”

“MY LORD!”

“My lord! I-I-I apologize I-!”

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. Your face was stiff in horror as you watched the creamy soup drip off his hair. Seung ran back into the room with a towel in his arm as the housekeeper bellowed at your friend.

Before Seung could wipe his hair, Taehyung held his wrist and took the towel into his own hands. Then he stood up, surprising the whole room, even the shrieking housekeeper, shut. He lightly wiped the edges of his bangs for a minute in silence, feeling the wet soup drool into his shirt before he turned towards your friend.

“Well, what a mess…” He stated absentmindedly, watching the girl shrink under his gaze until she became as small as a pebble. She seemed to be trying her utter best not to cry.

“Lord…” A soft, but confident voice interrupted the dead silence of the room. You stepped up next to your friend, your head down as you cleared your throat, “It…It is my fault actually…”

Your friend turns to you in shock. Everyone in the room was now glancing at you; the servants with petrified eyes and Taehyung with amused ones.

“Explain yourself.”

“Th-that…I spoke about the dog beast who was in today’s paper to miss Kang and…and I seem to have frightened her which is why she’s been a bit distracted…b-but it is my fault, so I deserve the punishment.”

“N-no!” You friend suddenly cries in a strained voice and you elbow her to keep shut. She opens and closes her mouth like a fish, before complying to your implication with her eyes squeezed shut tight. The servants all held their breath, waiting for the lord’s next move. They all seem to flinch when he sighs,

“…I see…” Taehyung holds in a chuckle, “You’re right miss ___, this indeed seems to be your fault…”

Seulgi quietly whines in her throat and you wish she could for once read your mind and jam her loud trap.

“…Well then,” Taehyung’s deep voice captures your full attention, “Meet me in my room an hour before midnight. I shall decide on your punishment by then.”

No one said anything further, but they all seemed to be thinking of the exact same thing. Even Seung appeared disturbed. But…it just couldn’t be… The lord has never even taken an interest in women much less bed with one. You, too astonished to remember your place, straightened your posture and stared at him straight in the eye for the very first time. There wasn’t any hint of jest or error, which left you further baffled at the Lord’s request.

No, perhaps it was just you who misunderstood.

“Y-yes Lord.” You manage to spit out.

At your approval the lord smiles, which startles you out of your insolence. You return to your humble position as the Lord begins to walk away from the room.

“Seung, prepare my bath.” Taehyung calls out in glee.

“…Yes, master…”

You sigh, standing in front of the thick wooden door of your Lord’s master chamber.

“Well, there goes the goal of keeping from trouble…” You whisper to yourself in defeat. And thanks to that gigantic fool Seulgi, you were late to your own punishment trial. She would not stop crying and apologizing, even though you told her it was now your problem, so she has nothing to be sorry about.

Still, the main dilemma for you in this moment was not her, but your current circumstances. Why were you called out to the Lord’s chamber an hour before midnight? The sensitive time frame would provide anyone the wrong impression, not just you. If he really were to ask you to…bed with him…what then?

You quickly shake your head no. It was not healthy for you to have such thoughts about your Lord. Since adolescence, you had been a reasonable girl who was guided by logic. There was no rationality in this idea and you’re sure Lord Kim had a good excuse for calling you out so late – an excuse that has nothing to do with...whatever you were just thinking. After pulling yourself together with a deep breath, you knock on the wood three times.

“Come in.” You immediately hear, which allows you to nervously turn the handle and push open the door.

There stood Lord Kim, by the end of the bed, in his sleepwear. His hair was a mess of slight, drooping curls, possibly the aftermath of his bath, and his stare was a lot more lax than normal. You gulped quietly under his gaze, stepping into the room and letting the door shut behind you.

“You’re late, miss ___.” His voice was deep, but soft. It felt as if he was trying to jester you.

“I-I apologize, my Lord. I was held up by the housekeeper…”

It was a lie and you did feel guilty, but it would also be immensely satisfying to witness that old witch being chided.

“My, my, it seems like she is always after you and that friend of yours,” You could hear what sounded like mischief in his tone, “Which reminds me, she came to speak to me.”

“The housekeeper?”

“No, your friend. She told me you lied for her.”

That was the last straw. You were going to kill that idiot.

“I…I…S…” What were you to say now? Should you apologize for your dishonesty?

“I think it’s commendable.” You were interrupted from your thoughts by your Lord’s words. When you meet his eyes, you see him smiling gently in your direction. “You tried to protect your friend. It takes a good heart for that.”

“Thank you, sire…” You weren’t sure how to adequately respond - if he really was complimenting you. Your uncertainty stemmed from your upbringing; rather than a trait to compensate, behaving and caring for your younger siblings was regarded as your duty. It was also why maid work came so easily to you. And Seulgi, with her childish nature yet endearing personality, reminded you of those you tended to back home, so you considered looking after her a mere responsibility.

“I do like that nature of yours.” He proceeds casually, making you blush. “But I still have to punish you for your dishonesty.”

You nod your head, eyes falling to the floor. Even without gaping at him, you were aware of how strong his gaze was. It was only natural to get disciplined as a servant, but for it to come from Lord Kim himself made you fearful.

“Miss ___, sleep with me.”

Your head whirls up to meet his stare, shock painting your face.

“W-”

“Please don’t misunderstand me.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair, “Although you’re quite beautiful, I only desire your lap.”

…

What?

“I-” Your Lord stutters, facing away from you and crossing arms in embarrassment, “I just…these days I have been having some trouble sleeping. Many peers have remarked on my dark circles and laxing attitude. This won’t do! As the Lord of the Kim manor, I have to appear fully rested and in the best condition at all times or else.”

He turns back to your direction,

“W…when I was a young lad…I would sleep on my mother’s lap. It was the most comforting of places to me and sleep was never a cause for concern back then. Which is why…I wanted to seek that same comfort once more…so that I may be able to rest heartedly and prepare myself to face the world of politics tomorrow. I just…I was wondering if I could borrow your lap for a few nights?”

It was quiet after his explanation. Your mind gradually processing all the information in his tale. He appeared to be immensely nervous, as if waiting for you to decline. You had to hide your amusement.

“I am ready for my punishment, my Lord.”

The young Lord smiles, which has your heart racing. Surely, he was a beautiful man.

“Thank you. Please sit on the bed, near my headboard.” He orders bashfully.

You swung another sheet over the clothing line.

Days had passed since your initial ‘punishment,’ and today would mark the first whole month of you lending your lap to your Lord. Your nightly time with the Lord had become an occurrence you cherished. There was so much you managed to learn about the man who rested on you – like how he scrunches his nose when he encounters a nightmare or how he moans only when he is in his deepest of slumbers. He was different than how you originally imagined; his cold exterior was nothing but a farce. In reality, he was so childlike and so innocent.

So different from other men.

Yes, that’s right, he was nothing like Wan. Remembering that scoundrel had you shivering in your legs from disgust. You usually didn’t have the most pleasant encounters with the men in town, but Wan had been a special case. Although you did not wish to think ill of the dead, there was nothing ever good about that man, and frankly you’re not very upset that he’s gone.

You remember the day much too clearly; it was a week before he would meet his demise. The housekeeper had sent you and Seulgi into town on a shopping errand – she wanted you to pick up meat and vegetables for dinner. It wouldn’t be the first time you went into town for a chore, but it would certainly be the most unpleasant.

As you and Seulgi stepped out of the farmer’s store carrying a load of groceries in a paper bag you held with both arms, you spotted Wan and his friends walking towards you from the opposite direction. They were cackling loudly, drunk in the middle of the day and out of their minds. You paid them no attention, ready to head back to the manor but your unwitty friend stared straight at them until Wan eventually made eye contact with her.

“Well, well, well,” He slurred in your direction, catching your gaze, “If it isn’t the whores of Kim manor!”

Because of his brash nature, everyone’s regard fell on the two of you. You tried to look unfazed by his disgusting behavior, taking Seulgi by the hand and leading her around the men. But Wan interjected your path as his friends laughed on.

“We need to get back. Leave us alone.” You stated calmly

“Why, we won’t keep you for long,” He grinned, and you recoiled from the alcohol in his breath, “Besides, they won’t miss you- them rich folk. Isn’t that right, fellas?”

His friends began to shout and woo, enclosing in on you almost completely, and you could feel Seulgi shaking behind you.

“We need…to get back.” You say once again, cursing at yourself when your voice cracks. Wan throws his head back and laughs as hard as he could while the townsfolk just observe the show. Anger begins to well up alongside the fear and you purse your lips, picking up your feet and tugging Seulgi along.

It didn’t matter if you had to bulldoze through him, you were going to get back to Kim manor no matter what. So you step close, ready to collide into him before he suddenly sidesteps. Thinking he was distracted; you weren’t prepared for his swift movement and you certainly weren’t prepared to feel a hard thwack on your backside. A breath of surprise leaves your throat and the feeling in your arms disappear, which lets the paper bag fall out of your grasp, spilling its contents along the street. You stare at the ground, paralyzed by shock as Seulgi meekly cries out your name.

“Wan, you mad lad!” Someone from his group yells, clasping their hand into his in jest while they all express their amusement at your humiliation. The group aggressively howls, making perverse remarks before eventually continuing down the road, fully disregarding your presence. They left, without any consequences. As if they didn’t just horribly disgrace you.

“___...” Seulgi steps up to your side, crying her eyes out in worry. If this was another time you would console her – scold her for being a crybaby – but at the moment you could think of nothing. You had been a maidservant for almost a decade now and even then, you had never been treated so awfully. What’s worse is that they all saw…they all saw and said nothing.

Not wanting to waste a minute further, you fall to your knees and start gathering the vegetables that fell about. Seulgi calls your name again but you focus on your task. You have to stay composed, you have to stay composed – you repeat it to yourself like mantra. But that sensation of emptiness returns, and you freeze. Before you knew it, you were trembling on the floor with tears streaming down your face and everyone still watched on.

“___.” Seulgi wrapped herself around you tightly. For a moment your fortitude was shattered as you cried in her arms on that dirty street.

Wan was most definitely scum, you conclude with a huff as you finish straightening the laundered bedsheet. But still, you halt, dying the way he did…it’s something you wouldn’t wish on anyone. Your mind wanders back to that paper, torn limbs and missing hearts. Could it possibly be related to what you saw that night on the previous full moon? With a frown, you stare up at the sky, watching the whiffs of white clouds swirl through the blue fabric.

“___!” You hear the familiar shouts of your name and turn to see Seulgi running towards you. “___, there you are!”

“What is it this time?” You sigh as she encloses in on you

“___, is it true that you are consummating with the Lord?”

Dropping the sheet out of your hands, you spin towards the loudmouthed idiot, “W-w-w-where did you hear that?”

“The other maidservants were whispering on it,” She replies with an innocent grin, “Is he as good as the rumors say?”

“A-a-a-as the w-what? What rumors- what- consummate- a-are you out of your mind?” You were blushing from head to toe.

Seulgi looks dejected at your response, “So it isn’t true?”

“Of course not!”

“Ohh,” She groans sullenly, “But I guess it would be impossible for a lord to take interest in maidservants like us.”

Your bashfulness vanishes in an instant. She was correct, there is absolutely no reason for you to find yourself special. Lord Kim had made it clear that he has no interest in you, he just requires a lap and is too proud to ask someone close. This was originally a punishment for you and nothing more – you shouldn’t become too attached.

“___?” Seulgi’s voice was low, “Are you alright? You seem down…”

“…I’m fine.” You mutter, composing yourself, “But more importantly…why are you here to ask me about baseless gossip? Are you done with your station? Remember you have to use the right tools- just scrubbing vigorously doesn’t work-”

“Oh my god- yes, yes, yes!” She responds by childishly covering her ears, “I have to use the coil sponge not the foam one, I get it!”

You begin to scold her as she laughs, prancing around the grass without a care. But soon the humor dies down and it was time to return to work. Before she leaves for her station, she makes a passive comment.

“Tonight’s another full moon. In the night of Samhain.” There was something dim about her tone as she gazes up towards the sky. You join her, wondering if she somehow had the same bad premonition as you did.

While you were chatting with your friend, Taehyung was having tea with a man he’d rather throw into a river.

“What brings you here?”

“My, do you sound cold.” His uncle chuckles, taking another sip of his tea, “Am I not allowed to visit my nephew out of fondness?”

“Well, after twenty-so years, consider me surprised.” Taehyung deadpans, which only further humors the elder.

“Perhaps I do have a motive.” He grins for a moment before all signs of amusement vanish from his expression. “I could not help but toil my mind over that paper from before. The townsfolk swore they heard the dog beast growl late into the night before fading behind Kim manor.”

“I thought we agreed the paper was nothing more than gossip fodder.”

“And perhaps that’s all it is.” His uncle’s smile was innocent but held such contempt. “However, as a gentleman who resides in the city, I find myself quite inclined by the mysteries of small towns such as this.”

“What nonsense,” Taehyung scoffs, “Are you saying you wish to investigate this supernatural rubbish the townsfolks gripe about?

“Indeed! The dog beast is nothing but rubbish!” The elder’s laughter was hearty, “But then, there is the question of who killed those men?”

The room was silent, drowning in the animosity the two men felt for one another. Neither one spoke – his Uncle because he had nothing more to say and Taehyung because he felt his throat clogging. He wanted to decline, desperate to splurge words of refusal, but then the fact that he had something to hide becomes too apparent.

“Surely, you won’t mind me staying? Just for one night?”

“Stay as you wish, uncle.”

You were already situated on his bed when your Lord swung the door open.

The sound made you jump, and you immediately rose to your feet to show respect. He began walking towards you in a fast, heavy pace with his feet striking the wood. His face had you unnerved – anger in his frown as well as what you could only describe as dismay in his eyes. Before you could open your mouth to react, you were taken into his arms in a sudden and swift motion.

It left your mind blank.

He squeezed himself onto you, his chest colliding with yours as his scent surrounded your senses. Your arms were hovering his back while your fingers curled into themselves, unsure of your position at the moment. Lord Kim hugged you tight, as if he was afraid.

“M-my Lo-”

“Tonight.” He interjected, muffling into neck as he laid his head on your shoulder, “Do not let me go tonight, whatever you do. Hold onto me as tight as you possibly can, do you hear me? Do not let me wander, I beg you.”

His tone broke your heart. He sounded so frightened – so desperate and you had no clue on how to help him. The Lord has always been the strength of this household. No one had ever witnessed him so distressed, not even at the previous Lord’s funeral. Hesitantly, you placed your fingers against his vertebrate and sat back on the mattress, guiding him gently down with you.

“I won’t let you go, my Lord.” You didn’t know what else to say.

He placed his head on your lap, arms still clinging onto you like a child. His mind seemed to be in the middle of a warzone against himself. The memory of a young man sitting in front of his father’s casket, immobile and silent as a rock, was still so vivid to you. You had only been at Kim Manor for a few months back then, and you remember being disturbed by his attitude – wondering if he had any feelings at all. But after learning about how often his extended family plotted against him, to the point of kidnapping him as an eight-year-old, you began to view that tearless boy with pity.

Watching him tremble in your lap has you reaching out to him. Your digits tread into his soft hair and you slowly move them about to calm his tremors. He seems to respond; his quivers coming to a slight halt at your touch.

You don’t know for how long you rubbed his head, listening to him breath.

You don’t know when you fell asleep.

His whole body was aching as he walked towards the grass, trying to ease the sharp pain in his head.

He had been taught that the best place to alter was out in an open, murky environment. Somewhere you could feel the air on your skin as the patches of hair slit through your pores like needles through fabric. Yet still, somewhere impenetrable through the naked eye. There was an area like so behind Kim manor – a clearing that was connected to a large acre of uninhabited woods. And among those acres laid several swamps and bogs, which formed a thick layer of fog around the grounds of the manor – most prominent on the night of the full moon.

It was the perfect place for him, who had been poisoned with this modification.

With his mind as cloudy as the fog, he thinks back to the first time he witnessed his father alter. He was far too young, a month away from ten, when he was brought out to this clearing and visually counseled on his dreadful future. More than anything he wanted to look away, he did not wish to see his beloved father become this monster, but Seung held his hand tight and told him to hold witness for his very own sake. And he witnessed – witnessed his father thrash about as if he wanted to claw his own brains out and he cried.

He cried along with his father. But there was never any other option for him than to tolerate the dread from his place as heir to Kim manor.

It was always painful, every moment his heart pumped blood into his body, he moaned in agony. While the night raged on, he noticed his panting grew deeper by the second – tone sinking to a gruff growl which rips through his chest. His eyes and sense of smell grew keener, large nails grotesquely rip through his skin and his teeth began to enlarge. The image of the moonlight basking on his skin was the only thing offering him refuge.

If he had a choice, he would have chosen to stay inside with the warm you, stare enchantedly at your resting face like the many instants he’s done before. But his changes weren’t just physical. In this state he was bigger, louder, hairier, teethier – more aggressive. His desire for blood was intense but ever since he met you, so was this raw lust. As a rational man with a sense of morals, this perverse craving ashamed him, yet the beast inside did not care for his customs. It wanted to possess you, every ounce of you, thoroughly. To mate with you in a way that wasn’t meant for humans. Being around you in this condition would break the mental leash he chains this deviant with.

Although every time he alters, he feels it loosening. There was something wrong with him – his father and grandfather were able to restrain the beast from rampaging throughout town. But he, on the other hand, had been consuming the town as his sole hunting grounds for some months now. Which is why the “dog beast,” once a mere legend mentioned every decade, was printed in previous months paper.

It is as if the creature wishes to mock him and the slipping control.

Drenched in sweat and agony, he knew the transformation was almost complete when he suddenly heard a small noise. He immediately spun around and met the petrified eyes of his uncle.

Neither of the men spoke – both gaping at each other with pure, unfiltered fear. The chill of the night establishes its presence in the worst moment possible. Taehyung was afraid for reasons too many, none he could not lucidly list. He recalls what occurred the last time the beast was enraged by someone and he desperately wishes not to hurt anyone ever again in this form.

Opposite from him stood his uncle, wondering just one thought out of an infinite. How does a normal man, one untouched by the knowledge of this being, react in this situation?

A normal man would run. A normal man would cower in fear. A normal man would beg for his life. But he, the rightful heir to the manor, declined to let this young bastard trample him in such a way. It wasn’t that his uncle was a man without fear. And it wasn’t that he held great courage either, but rather, the very oxygen that burned through him was fueled purely by his stubbornness. He has spent the majority of his life trying to crush first his brother and now his nephew, so when this chance has presented itself so deliciously, he refuses to let it slip through his fingers.

“Y…” His voice was hoarse, throat achingly dry, “What are you?”

Taehyung stands there quietly, unresponsive to the question. Although he was the larger one, he felt so scared and so small. No one had ever spoken to him in this form which is why he was unsure of what to do. He had been a fool, he thought if he could sleep in your arms and you held him tight, he would be able to stop himself from altering tonight.

But now he understood, there was nothing that could.

“You killed those men.” His uncle continues, all on his own. As if he’s suddenly reached enlightenment.

“You do not…understand…” Taehyung shakes his head like a child about to be punished. He didn’t mean to kill anyone. He’s never hurt someone in his whole life. That night, on the previous full moon, it all occurred without any of his own authority.

Taehyung was a despicable man. Wan had hurt you, and he saw it. But rather than step in and intervene – rather than protect you from that scum – he instead just stood by and watched it transpire. No matter how many times he thinks back to it, no matter how often he racks his brain for an answer, he still does not understand why he did nothing. Perhaps he was paralyzed from his own traumas and forced himself to retain his composure – however the beast did not care for his pathetic reasons. It taunted him the whole week leading up to the full moon. Hurt him with insults he knew he merited.

“You’re weak.” It growled, “Weak and puny. I shall protect her myself.”

And then, for the very first time, Taehyung took the life of another human being without any cognizance. What’s worse is that he enjoyed it. That thought alone petrifies him.

“No, I do not understand you. And I do not wish to.”

“Please…” Taehyung begged as he held out his deformed hand to plead with the elder. Did this man think Taehyung desired this life? Did he think he desired this hundred year old curse - originating from a place long before his time - that was forced upon him and on any man who dared to reign over Kim manor. Perhaps despicable, but Taehyung was still softhearted. The reason why he tried so hard to keep his title as Lord was so that no one else would further suffer this abomination, even if it concerned his bastard uncle.

And it’s also the reason he made peace with dying alone, without a bride and without children. He was meant to stand alone. That is...until he met you.

“How dare you. How dare you grovel to me, you servant of the devil.” The disgust and venom in his uncle’s tone made him recoil.

“No-” It was only a matter of time before the beast consumed him whole and he was certain, like before, it would not spare any mercy. The adversity is something Taehyung direly yearns not to repeat.

“I shall bring the priest and the commissioner. I shall tell them what you did. You shall be brought to justice for what you did to those men. You shall suffer in hell when they burn you at the stake!”

“Please- uncle- please listen TO ME-” He clasped his claws against his mouth when his voice became utterly inhumane. The beast was crawling out of his throat and his sanity was slipping. No longer was he able to see what was in front of him and once again he began to fade, like he did all those times before.

“Run!”

Taehyung with the last of his conscious tried his hardest to warn the man and take a dash for the woods but it was far too late.

The last thing he heard was his uncle’s shrill scream, and then all silence for him.

You woke up to a thump.

Or at least you were certain that was what you heard as you sit up on the bed. Your vision was groggy, mind still half asleep as you look in the direction of the sound’s origin. For a minute it was soundless, and then there was another thump. You weren’t sure what it was, but you stood up nonetheless, slowly walking towards the door. Still unaware of your surroundings, you stop in front of the wood, distracted by your own dizziness.

In the tranquility of the room, you caught a noise so faint, you thought perhaps you were still in your nightmare from before. It was immensely faint, but you heard it. The rapid breathing behind the door. Unhurdled by emotions such as caution and reasoning for once, you swung the door open in confusion. And as soon as you did, your own awareness came back to you at full force.

A clothless man stood before you, covered from head to toe in blood and gore. Your breath was stuck in your throat, eyes widening into saucers once you saw the length of his fangs. It took you a full minute realize that it was Lord Kim.

“W…what…” You step back in horror. Perhaps you were still dreaming.

The fear had snuck up around your waist and grabbed you by the throat, leaving you without the ability to move. He gazed at you with eyes that were a bright yellow, yet darker than any man’s you have ever looked into. Your orbs travel down his body as you absorb in his abnormal height, his ripping muscles, his long fingernails and…and his hand.

There was a heart. In his hand, he gripped a fleshy and large organ and you knew it was a heart.

Missing hearts.

“Nooo…please.” You quiver, crying without him ever speaking a word. All signs of alarm were raised in your mind and you don’t even remember what it was for that you came here. Only Seulgi’s words about the dog beast reigned in your ear. The world was spinning as your Lord…as he began to walk towards you. Your life started to flash by your eyes, and you closed them shut tight, so you would no longer have to witness this terror.

“Shhh.” You heard a deep growl before you felt cold and abnormally large fingers on your face. A gasp escapes your throat as he caresses your cheek.

The next thing you knew, you were floating. Your eyes flew open and you saw yourself being carried by him. There was no moment for you to react, as you were subsequently placed upright onto the bed. No longer restrained by his arms, you shifted about in a frenzy.

“Ah…uh…”

“You are mine.” He states as if it was a fact.

Then he comes over you – wrapping his enormous, dirtied limbs around you as you squeak. He lays his head in your lap and you feel the tears leave your eyes as he yet again resembles your Lord. What you had thought of as just a hallucination from the fog was actually reality. That night, on the previous full moon, you woke up and strolled the grounds to clear your head of Wan. It was then that you saw the most horrid of things – you saw a giant dog shrink into a small human who resembled the Lord.

And you had told yourself lies. Told yourself it wasn’t true and told yourself to forget. But all logic was failing you now as a creature from hell winds down on your very own body. You muffle your cries and fear – too afraid to awaken the beast.

Taehyung laid peacefully in your arms; his mind detached from every other thing that did not concern you. The heart he held in his hand had stopped beating a long time ago, but he could still feel it slipping through his fingers. He is not sure, even as a beast, as to why he takes the hearts of victims. Perhaps it has something to do with how it’s his heart that hurts more than anything else each time he alters.

Well, it did not matter now, he thinks as his perception starts to drift. Nothing mattered at the moment – not the heart, nor his uncle’s body, not even your reaction. For this moment, more than anything, he just wants to rest.

To sleep, in your lap, under this cold, beautiful moonlight.

________

A/N: Okay so I really hate this I apologize. I had intended for it to be longer but well :) October has officially been 2020′s busiest month for me...but I hope you enjoy this garbage lmk what you thought!

#bts #kim taehyung #yandere bts #yandere taehyung #bts fluff #bts angst #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #bts x reader #taehyung x reader

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closedspeciesteahouse · 3 years ago

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(I guess it wouldn't be too hard to find out who I am but I'll remain anonymous to try to keep what little anonymity I can get) I'm extremely dyslexic so I'm sorry if the formatting is weird! I had an experience recently that really opened my eyes up to how toxic the cs community is and I thought it was worth sharing. I'm a pop cs moderator and I typically thought I had a good standing with my members. I wasn't perfect, moderating is a hard job and a very opinionated job at that, I was going to mess stuff up. A bit ago I made a big purchase on an adopt, a good chunk of change. I'd never really spent this much before, but it was enough to where it made headlines in other cs vents. I knew I could spend this type of money, I had sold multiple pop cs designs off as vouchers to make it, so it wasn't like it was coming out of pocket. But of course when cs vent has something to complain about they'll latch onto it... Someone made a post where they went through my trello claiming that I was lazy because rather then finishing my commissions in my trello I was wasting their money on an expensive adopt. The moderator agreed, chalking it up to "cs behavior". I was mortified. I'd never been the target of this sort of thing and quickly went to the two commissioners who were waiting on me. I was worried one of them may have been upset and said that. The thing is, I had informed both of them before I went on hiatus that 2 family members were in the hospital, and 1 was dying. I was taking a break because doing customs was not helping my grieving process. Both of them were good friends and assured me that they understood and were being patient (one even went on the blog to defend me which I feel really bad about,,,) But it was all so weird. Nobody cared I had the money to spend on the purchase, nobody cared about my dying family members, nobody cared I was grieving. I was a pop cs mod, my feelings didn't matter to these people. As soon as I had gotten to position, no matter if it was for money or for passion, I became as bad as all the worst of my peers. This may be heard on deaf ears but I encourage you all to remember these mods, they are people... I know not all of them are great or outstanding at their jobs, but not all of them are horrible either. The absolute violation I felt to have someone digging through my stuff to find my trello (it is very out of the way) to find something, ANYTHING to complain about. It was horrifying. I can only imagine the mental state of the people who are targets of cs vent chats constantly such as Darci or Kid. Not to say I'm a fan of either of them, but if such a small thing affected me so badly, what are they going through. Maybe I'm just soft... Anyways thank you for coming to my ted talk,,,!

Hello mate, Mod Earl here.. I do have several things to add. Have a seat and a cult of tea if you’d like!

Firstly, I do apologize to hear of this. And in all honesty I would encourage you to do your best to void from looking at such sites if it causes you much stress and uneasiness.

The stuff that I’ve learned from within the internet is.. well, can’t please anybody. People can be crude and not empathetic. Even if you’re doing your darndest, there’s always going to be a few that got something to say! And to be a mod of this popular CS, I would say.. it’s to be expected. Adapt and overcome is what my Gramps would say! Got to get some tough skin, angry people from the internet should be the least of your problem to deal with. They just tend to find something to complain and gotta vent out their frustration (hence the vent in the name of ‘csvent’).

Also to go through the lengths to pick on something so small and enlarging it into an argument does feel a bit much… but again, if things are online and available for others to see, it’s there for others to drop a say in things.

Shame on the anonymous venter for running off to a gossip sight if they intend to instigate things.. the silliest of the twats.

Also it’s your money. You do you. I’m sure many others online do the same thing too. They have money, they spend it on what they want. (Wow! What a bloody shocking discovery!) Just do you mate. Learn from this mishap and simply do your best to filter out the nonsense.

But that’s just my say in things. Cheers mate, hope things lighten up!

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dottiechan · 4 years ago

Text

Tempest (Pt. 5)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Read on AO3

Pairing: Ava Du Mortain x f!Detective

Wordcount: 4048

Warnings: mourning, mentions of death and torture, smoking

Summary: The private detective must work through the sudden and unexpected disappearance of Ava - quite literally, as she embarks on solving her greatest mystery yet. But she is not the only one who's been busy...

A/N: This chapter is a rather long one as there's much to unpack at this point of the story, and there is much to explain. Sorry for the long wait, and thanks for being so patient and supportive of me!

The Private Detective’s Office, London, 1898

5 months after Ava’s disappearance

The key turns in the lock with ease. The door creaks as it gives way to the dark office. The lights flicker in the corridor outside, and the entrance gapes like a mouth ready to swallow her whole.

She steps inside, unaware of her fingers skittering across the glass pane that has the name of her detective agency painted on it. Some have great bloodlines to look back on, and nobles and kings to proudly call their ancestors. Her legacy is this stuffy little office, her sigil is a hand painted business logo. But her ancestor - her father - was a warrior too, noble of heart, even if not of blood.

She hangs her coat and hat, and proceeds to smooth down her hair before locking the door and switching on the lights. The old pieces of furniture that would have been regarded fashionable 20 years ago are dimly illuminated, and the sight of them makes her heart ache. They belonged to her late father, and in a way he lives on through them. The dent in the cushion of his chair where he always used to sit, the scuff marks on his desk he carelessly carved into the polished surface with books and folders, the medical and law tomes he hoarded lining the bookshelves that hug the dark green walls... As a child, she was afraid of coming here in the evenings - something they often did after her mother passed away and her father tried his best to raise her alone. The heavy nailhead leather armchairs looked like hunched monsters in the dark, the looming mahogany desk with its long curving legs resembled a giant spider, and the serious wallpaper enveloped this macabre scene like some sinister forest. “The real monsters are in here, my darling,” her father would ruffle her hair affectionately, pointing at the files he came to pick up.

It is late, but the office no longer feels scary. Her rational mind knows she should have gone home to her empty bed and her unread books and the cold supper awaiting her. And yet she’s here because hardly anything matters anymore. Because no place ever really feels like home ever since her father left. Well, her small house felt like home for a while when she was still here. But she left as well, and with her she took the last tattered shreds of joy the detective had somehow managed to cling to. She is submerged in saturnine reticence now, and ironically it helps her stay focused, even though it makes her more and more like the person she tried to thaw out. More and more like Ava.

One should only embrace the iciness of a statue if they’re willing to risk turning into marble themselves.

The Commissioner would be lucky to have a detective such as myself, she thinks bitterly as she glances down at the neatly kept files piled on her desk. Most are petty cases, even she has to admit - cheating husbands, unanswered invitations and letters, and the likes. But she takes all the work she can, and she prides herself on her ability to solve them with the proficiency of a man. Ava used to praise her for that. Now she whispers praises to herself even if the words turn sour in her mouth, because she will not let anyone ruin her. She will not. (Even though Ava has, because the world feels different without her in it.)

Her sudden disappearance left her on the precipice of panic at first. Ava, along with her partner Nate, simply vanished into thin air as if they never even existed at all, as if they were a pleasant reverie she used to lull herself to sleep at night. No trace, no item that belonged to them was left behind. If not for the spare key to her house being gone - the one she gave to Ava - she wouldn’t even be able to tell the difference between reality and her mad suspicions. But oh, she was here. She was. Missing her is a malady burrowed in her heart, but it is also the testament of her existence.

She opens the file on top, and hums in bitter satisfaction. Right. The aching of her heart isn’t the only testament anymore. It took her months, but she’s finally one step closer to the solution, planting her foot firmly and holding her crumbling sanity together with a determination she didn’t know she had. Ava was probably never meant to be in the background of a photograph taken during the opening night of the National Gallery of British Art.

But she was. And it really only takes one mistake.

The private detective picks up the photograph gingerly, giving herself one second to lose herself in the whirlwind of emotions Ava’s angular silhouette awakens in her.

One step closer.

She leans back in her chair, her gaze gliding over the photograph and landing on her personal little project. The blackboard is filled with dates, locations and places with a map pinned to the middle of it - by now, it is practically a blueprint of Ava’s and Nate’s every activity over the past two years. The deeper she digs, the more unknowns she unearths about the people she once thought she knew.

But there’s still time to get to know them - first impressions are overrated anyway.

Train station, Wayhaven, 1899

7 months after Ava’s disappearance

January quickly set to work and changed the countryside. It swooped down from the heavens and gently buried the forests and the hills under a heavy blanket of snow, concealing the detective’s childhood home from her as she exits the train, the handle of her heavy bag already digging into her gloved fingers. The shapes are still visible though underneath all the snow and ice - she sees the old station with the crumbling roof, the road leading into town, the bell tower of the small church peeking out just above the treeline. She recognises them all, though she sorely wishes she didn’t.

Because with the recognition comes the inevitable sting of her memories. Faces emerge in her conscious she hasn’t seen in years. The kindness of her mother’s eyes and the curve of his father’s lips, both lost forever now, never to be seen again, cutting deeper than a knife ever could.

An old woman is prating about her insufferable nephew, a business man is constantly checking his pocket watch with a disdainful look from across the station, three young women gossip, a man is rubbing his hands together in an effort to stimulate his circulation in the cold weather. The detective tunes out the comfortable commotion of the small town station, imagining she is still in London and not here. Anywhere but here. People brush past her, the train whistles and whirs to motion, and before she knows it, she is alone, paralysed in one spot, snowflakes catching softly on her fetching ensemble of a royal blue travelling dress and matching hat.

She takes a shaky breath, almost already on the verge of tears.

“Are you alright, Miss?”

No.

“Of course,” she turns with a slight smile. “Just admiring the view. I used to live here.”

“Ah, then the gossip about you was true,” the man nods, his eyes glinting intelligently under his bushy brows. There’s an apologetic smile sitting on his lips, and a twinge of regret spoiling the beauty of his otherwise handsome square jaw and bold features. “I apologise, I couldn’t help but overhear some women on the train talking about your father. About you.”

“I didn’t know our name carried such weight,” the detective admits cautiously, one hand reaching up to fix her hat self-consciously. The man seems to notice the way her fingers linger over the hat pin, and he almost cracks a grin. It would be a highly inappropriate moment to joke, and besides, he’d rather befriend this interesting person than anger her to a point where he’d end up being skewered by the hat pin in question. After all, her friendship and assistance is why he’s here.

“Your father served in India with Sir Edward Bardford, the current Police Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police,” he adds gently. “You were betrothed to Montagu Edward Bradford.”

“How do you know about that?” the woman asks, her eyes widened by shock as she takes a step closer to him.

“Who didn’t Montagu tell?”

The strained grin the stranger allows himself seems to put her momentarily at ease. Montagu did tell everyone, God rest his soul. In a way, she could never really begrudge him for the betrothal - it was their fathers’ scheming, even if Montagu really didn’t seem to mind. She always wanted a way out, but she never wished for his death. He was in India when it had happened, and she was in London. In a way, even 9 years after, it feels surreal. She never saw the body. For years afterwards, she sincerely thought he would turn up one day unexpectedly as if nothing had happened.

He never did.

“How awfully rude of me to not even introduce myself!” he exclaims suddenly, sheepishly sticking out his hand. “Dr Van Helsing. Abraham Van Helsing.”

“I believe Mont had spoken about you,” she nods as she shakes his hand, deliberately squeezing his fingers with more force than a mere handshake would warrant. Yet another trick she learned from Ava.

“I hope so. We were... we were quite close. I know it’s been a while since he...” Van Helsing pauses as he withdraws his hand and waves it in the air before drawing it up to his ginger curls. “Please accept deepest my condolences.”

“Thank you, Dr Van Helsing.”

Her tone signals the end of the conversation, and she nods her head stiffly before turning. She knew coming back here would unearth the loss of her parents, but she is not ready to speak of Montagu yet. She bared her soul once regarding the matter, and only to one person, but she will not repeat the experience again. As liberating as it had been to tell Ava everything, she wishes to leave this heartache and guilt where it belongs - in the past.

“Please wait. We got off on the wrong foot! I didn’t come here to ask you personal questions - in fact, it is a disappearance that I was hoping to discuss with you.”

“You are a physician, not an inspector, correct?” she asks over her shoulder, not bothering to slow down her steps as she strides towards an unclaimed hansom.

“Yes, but-”

“Are you here to hire me?”

“No-”

“Then we have nothing to talk about, Dr Van Helsing. Good day.”

The driver, smelling a wealthy client who’s just arrived from London, clambers down from his seat quickly to open the door for her to get in. Just before she could disappear inside, the physician speaks again.

“I’m trying to find Miss Ava Du Mortain and Mr Nathaniel Sewell. I was hoping we could help each other out, but more importantly, I was hoping to warn you.”

“Warn me?” the detective pauses, looking back at Van Helsing with genuine shock on her prepossessing features.

“They’re not who you think they are - what you think they are.”

There’s a stretch of silence between them as her eyes assess the tall, lanky man as he stands just before the hansom, hands stuffed into his coat pockets, his breath fogging in the chill air as he looks back at her expectantly. The nerve on this man alone is making the private detective want to leave him high and dry in the snow, but her insides twist and her pulse quickens at the mention of Ava’s name. She’s all but given up hope - for months now, she could find nothing regarding the woman and her partner, or the Agency they claimed to work for. She knows virtually nothing about this man, but her need to find Ava outweighs her better judgement.

“Are you hungry, Dr Van Helsing?” she asks, scooting further down the seat to make room for the man.

“Is eating and working on disappearance cases simultaneously a habit of yours, Miss?” the physician asks as he climbs in next to her.

“And here I was trying to be nice. I suppose I will not offer to pay for your lunch then.”

“I take it all back! I am positively famished.”

Meanwhile, across the train station

Lucille Licht twirls her cane, lips pressed into a disdainful frown. Cities at least have crowds upon crowds of people to distract her, but small towns such as Wayhaven hold no entertainment value whatsoever. She isn’t here on pleasant business anyway, she thinks to herself as she sighs, pulling her fur coat tighter around the expensive suit she’s wearing. No, she is here on ghastly business indeed, even by demon standards. But the prophecy was clear - though irritatingly vague too, no doubt to account for the rather large margin of error witches have these days in their prophecies. They’re more lawyers than soothsayers by now, their profession diluted by those who hunger for nothing but profit and security, and who are willing to sacrifice quality for those two aforementioned gains. Lucille finds sordid business such as this distasteful, even in her line of work. Falling from grace is one thing, but living in the Agency’s ever growing shadow is no excuse not to have honour among thieves. Or rogues. Or both, when it comes to the social circles she frequents.

A small voice in the back of her head whispers sadly, poisoning the faux assuredness she’s lulled herself into on the train. She’s just like I was, in a strange way. Before it all happened. And now I’m about to do the same horrible things to her that were done to me.

But the private detective is the one she’s been waiting for. She has to be. It all fits - the dead father, the career, the place where she was born. Lucille can’t smell anything strange about her blood yet, but she is sure she can bring about the power that was promised to reside in her veins. She has her ways, and her old magic, and her knife. And most importantly, her determination.

It was centuries ago, when she was stripped and bound and the curse was carved into her flesh. Strange, how vividly one can remember a single terrible moment, even centuries later. Even though the ancient magic rendered her undead, she can still feel the searing pain all over her body, red lines raging like fire in the form of symbols and Echolian text. It made her immortal, but it also bound her to her creator. He is the reason why she’s on the hunt. Why she is desperate to gain power beyond what she could achieve alone. Even as a human, as a meagre farmer’s child, she was roaming the fields of her father as she pleased. She was free. It was so long ago that she can’t even remember the name her parents gave her, but her freedom she remembers.

And nobody enslaves Lucille Licht and gets away with it.

Her slow burn vendetta must be coming to an end soon. There’s only so much of the supernatural underworld she can bring under her control - what she has will have to suffice. She already runs a widespread rogue organisation, with its key leadership positions held by her loyal Daughters, as she eloquently calls the women she’s bound to her service over the centuries the same way she was bound once. A necessary evil. Pawns in the game she plays with the Ancient One. There is nothing she wouldn’t do to ensure her victory in the coming battle. I will not be outwitted again by that Echolian bastard, she thinks, whacking away at a nearby bush with her cane. Specks of snow and ice glitter where her hits land. And yet she always finds herself hesitating before turning another human.

The abhorred feeling of helplessness always comes creeping back. As well as the pain, and the panic of thinking your life is about to end. She has to push it all down. Grit her teeth and get it over with. Months of preparation leading up to the final act that barely lasts ten minutes. And then you wait, and 3 days later their pain and mortality will be but a distant memory.

But she’s slipping. She no longer only hesitates before, now the intrusive self-doubt catches up to her after the rituals too. The Ancient One is still the centre of her nightmares, but the dream has changed. She is no longer the helpless little lamb brought to the slaughter. She is one with the Ancient One, his hand is hers too as it raises the knife, their voices merging together as they chant the same curse together.

She knew this victory would cost her everything. But she never imagined the real price to pay would be stepping up to fill the void the Ancient One’s death will create.

Lucille never wanted to be like him. She only ever wanted to kill him. But it seems those two things are one and the same.

She awakens from her thoughts when the man joins the private detective in the hansom. An annoying little man, that Dr Van Helsing is, though harmless in the grand scheme of things. It doesn’t matter that he’s taken care of a Transylvanian rogue vampire with his entourage, it would take far more to stop her plans now. Lucille focuses on the woman instead, letting her will force itself into her mind. All too easy, she raises her eyebrows in an unimpressed fashion as she flicks through her thoughts as if she were reading the latest issue of The Times. She thought she would be more difficult to read. To control. But alas, she is just like everyone else, aside from the love that seems to seep out of her every thought for none other than Agent Du Mortain.

She grins, remembering her failed attempt at getting to the private detective earlier. She’s learned several invaluable lessons in those two years. One, you can’t trust dark elf mercenaries, no matter how much you pay them. Two, it’s better to divert the attention of the Agency first before you try to kidnap someone who has important connections in the London Metropolitan Police. Three, love makes people do really, really stupid things.

Thankfully, Lucille Licht is a smart woman, and an even better strategist - not to mention a quite powerful demon with telepathic abilities and her boot firmly planted on the supernatural underground’s neck - and this time, she has learned from all three of her mistakes. This time, there will be no Agent Du Mortain rushing to the rescue. (But that doesn’t mean she can’t use her name as bait, yes?)

Cemetery, Wayhaven, 1900

1 year and 8 months after Ava’s disappearance

He doesn’t appreciate being jerked around the way he has been lately, but he isn’t a man to grumble too much either. He was closest to the backwater little town, he gets to check out the possible supernatural case. Everyone draws the short straw sometimes, and he’s learned to cope with it. He has certainly lived long enough to do so.

The wind shifts, and suddenly Agent Fuller’s nostrils are invaded by the stench of magic. Things finally start looking up for him, and that thought alone is enough to make him pick up his pace, excitement coursing through his body. He lights a cigarette to conceal the smirk threatening to overtake his lips when he sees the pallid looks of the constables as they pass him by. One stops him to ask what his business is out here, but the Agency has already notified the meagre Wayhaven police force, and he is soon on his way again to the centre of the commotion. Cemetery of the commotion would be a more accurate description though - the little town was as dead in the mid-February frost as a place could get, and aside from the bored stationmaster who gave him directions, these men are the first living beings he’s encountered since his arrival.

“Name’s Agent Fuller. What can you tell me about the crime scene, constable?” Fuller asks as he exhales a lungful of smoke, turning to the least disturbed looking man surveying the scene.

“Welcome to the middle of nowhere, sir. Why don’t you come see for yourself?”

A handshake and a suppressed grin later Fuller follows the young man down a row of tombs. They take a sharp turn to the left, and immediately it is clear why he was called here. The sight is confirmation enough, but the smell of potent and ancient magic is the real giveaway.

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a walker,” Fuller snorts as he crouches down, picking up a piece of the crumbled marble.

“The poor woman was buried only 3 days ago,” the constable mutters, rubbing his hands together before bringing them to his lips and blowing hot air onto them, desperately attempting to revitalise his frozen fingers. “Who could do such a monstrous thing?”

“Indeed, who could...” the agent mutters, too focused to really pay attention to the human on his right. The tomb was torn open, the coffin deserted, the body missing. It coincides with many reports made over the centuries - it’s unfortunately not rare for the dead to be taken and repurposed again for magic, but this particular pattern is characteristic of demonic rogues having too much time on their necromantic little hands. He will need to consult a few colleagues to confirm it, but the 3 days and the apparent magic hanging in the air is all the evidence he needs right now.

He stands, the lapels of his dark coat flapping in the chilly wind ominously. There’s a page typed up about the busy life of his missing body in his pocket, crumpled around the edges from being handled carelessly, but he takes it out to skim over it again. That’s when he spots the little detail about the private detective’s history with the Agency that he seemed to have missed the first time around.

‘1896-1898: under Agency protection

Threat: classified

Agents on the case: A. Du Mortain, N. Sewell’

The Agency gossips like there’s no tomorrow, and ever since Lady Ashbury’s return to the main facility, the gossip about the ‘Ice Queen’ and her pet detective have been the most fashionable thing to blabber on about. And since Fuller has been to the scene, it will be him who will have to provide all the answers when Du Mortain comes with her demanding questions, no doubt breaking down doors in the process as it is in her nature. Fuller is by no means a man who shies away from conflict or hard work, but he’s never been particularly good with emotions. Explaining to a lovesick elder vampire that her alleged lover is now very dead, and also quite probably the plaything of a very bored and elusive demon who likes to play with necromancy is not a task he would gladly carry out.

“Well, shit.”

Fuller shoves the page back into his pocket and sighs. He should retire and buy a house in the wilderness. Get a cat. Maybe try some cocaine - he once saw Heinrich Quincke use it for spinal anaesthesia before one of his surgeries, and have been meaning to try it out ever since. But he does none of those things - he never does.

He walks back the way he came, trying to prepare himself for the most awkward conversation of the century.

Needless to say, he couldn’t prepare himself for what was to come. But for once, he couldn’t feel mad about a messy situations. He just felt a little more hollow afterwards. And then he got another case as this one was closed and the woman was declared dead once more. And he moved on.

But, like with all his cases ending in death, he never forgot.

#dottiechan writes #ava du mortain x detective #a du mortain x detective #the wayhaven chronicles #twc #twc detective #ava du mortain #a du mortain #a lot to unpack here #i know a lot might still appear strange but i promise it will all make sense soon haha

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lowritesthings · 5 years ago

Text

Resonance

Part 8 of ?? (Part One) << Previous

You’re helping to serve everyone dinner when Biggs appears downstairs for the first time, pale and groaning in pain but trying to smile through it for the kids. He’s wearing nothing but his shorts and bandages, and he’s gripping his battered ribs.

“What are you doing out of bed?” you ask, scrambling to his side to help take the weight off of his injured leg.

“Can’t lay around up there all day like a slob,” he quips, though his jaw is tight with pain and there’s still a raw look in his eyes that worries you. He must see your concern because he tries to give you a reassuring little squeeze. You help him to a chair and grab him some food.

All through the meal, he talks with the kids. He comforts the ones from Seven that have lost their homes, and he tries to lift the spirits of them all, knowing that the orphans from Five are scared too, even if they haven’t lost as much as the kids from Seven. You and Folia have to remind the younger children more than once to be gentle or else they’d all be trying to hug him. He’s patient with it all, even when they jostle his hurt ribs or get loud while his head no doubt still aches.

When the meal is over he grabs you before you can disappear back into the kitchen to wash the dishes.

“Is there any...any news? About Wedge or Jessie?” he asks quietly.

“No, I’m sorry. The search and rescue crews are still combing through the debris and the news is all about President Shinra’s death and what happens next for the company.”

Biggs clenches his jaw but nods. “In that case, what can I do to help around here?”

Your lips quirk into a half-smile and you shake your head. “Rest and heal.” He opens his mouth to protest but you cut him off with a wave of your hand. “Whatever comes next, you’ll want to be as close to full strength as possible. The staff can handle the kids. You focus on regaining some strength.”

“I don’t want to be in the way,” he says. You can see how frustrated he feels to be injured and trapped while the fates of his loved ones are unknown.

“You won’t be. Especially if you rest up at my place,” you tell him.

“But what about—?”

“I’ll be here most of the time anyway, so you’d be doing me a favor keeping an eye on the place. I’ll take you over there tonight once I’ve helped clean up a bit.”

He hesitates, then he nods and retreats to his chair, groaning again as he sinks down onto it. You head into the kitchen to finish working.

It takes a while to wrap up all your duties at the Leaf House, but at last you’re free to go. Biggs is half asleep when you return to his side, so you give his good shoulder a gentle shake. His eyes snap open and focus on you, instantly softening at the sight of your face.

“Let’s get you home,” you say, helping him to his feet. He wraps his arm around your shoulders and your arm slips around his waist to help support his weight, careful not to put any pressure around his midsection that might make his ribs hurt worse. Once you’ve positioned yourselves, you set out. He’s definitely not comfortable, but he doesn’t complain as you begin the short but slow trek to your flat.

“Do you think Jessie’s alive?” he asks.

“I don’t know. She’s incredibly tough and she’d never give up her will to live, so if anyone survived it would be her,” you say.

“But?”

“But...I watched skyscrapers fall on top of a shanty town made out of scrap metal. It’s hard to imagine many people walking away from that.”

“I did,” he reminds you.

“You did,” you agree, “and I’m grateful for that, more than you know. I can only hope she has some of your luck.”

“And Wedge?”

“Disappeared when he realized that Tifa, Cloud and Barret had gone topside. No one’s heard anything since.”

Biggs lets out a long sigh. “I don’t suppose those three are coming back any time soon?”

“I don’t know. If they had a hand in President Shinra’s death, I don’t think they could come back even if they wanted to. I’m sure the Turks are already after them.” You glance at him. His face is drawn with pain but still so handsome in the low light. Suddenly you wonder if he’ll disappear too, off searching for everyone else. The thought is painful enough to bring the sting of tears to your eyes, but you blink them away before he can see.

At last you reach your front door. Your heart starts to pound as you let him inside. For a moment you picture swinging him around, pressing him against the door and kissing him senseless. You have to clench your hands into fists and remind yourself he’s hurt in order to control the urge. Still, you can feel your cheeks heat as you try to get the image out of your mind.

“I’ll take the couch,” he says, and you roll your eyes.

“That’s very gallant but your ribs and shoulder aren’t up for it. The bed is yours; I’ll be sleeping on the couch,” you reply.

You gesture for him to follow you down the hall and he gives you an exasperated look. “Is arguing with you gonna work?” he asks.

“Not in the slightest,” you reply with a sweet smile, and he smirks a bit and shakes his head before following you back into the bedroom.

The room is dominated by your bed, though there’s a night table and a dresser in there as well. Your favorite items are neatly arranged around the room and your bed is covered in soft sheets and a fluffy comforter. You’d splurged on your bedding since you’re so busy that most of your time at home is spent sleeping.

“Well that looks comfortable,” Biggs comments when he sees it.

“I...may have spoiled myself a bit. But now you get to reap the benefits,” you tell him. You turn down the covers and then help him lower himself onto the bed. He’s watching your face as you make sure he’s not positioned in a way that will make his injuries worse or cause him more pain than necessary.

“Do you need anything?” you ask once he’s situated.

“Just one thing,” he replies—and then he catches your wrist and tugs you down onto the bed next to him.

Carefully, you tuck yourself against his left side and rest your head on his chest. The steady thump of his heart is reassuring even though you’re listening to it through bandages. You feel the gentle pressure of his chin on the top of your head and close your eyes, trying to memorize every sensation.

“What will you do?” you ask.

“I want to find Wedge and Jessie.” You feel his throat work a little as the full tragedy of the situation hits him again. “Then I guess it will be time to find a new home.”

Considering the fact that his home is buried under the remains of a city block, that’s a completely logical answer. But you feel a pang at the thought of being separated again after you’ve just gotten him back from the dead.

“You know you're always welcome here,” you tell him. You feel his fingers toy with your hair.

“Thank you,” he says after a moment. You can hear the deep gratitude in his voice and it makes you burn to say more, to confess your feelings for him. But that would be selfish in the wake of all he’s lost, especially if he doesn’t feel the same.

There will be time, you think. He needs to heal a little first. I’ll get my chance.

Eventually he falls asleep and you pull away from him to make yourself a bed on the couch. But you can’t resist kissing the corner of his lips before you leave him for the night.

——

A couple days later and you’re starting to find your new routine. Biggs is still too hurt to spend much time up and about, but you can tell that he’s only going to tolerate bed rest for another day or two. The Leaf House is beginning to gather enough supplies to care for all of its latest additions. Life is quietening down again, even if it will never be the same.

That’s when you spot the phalanx of Shinra guards moving through the street. In the center of the formation, one tall man with eyes like granite is taking in the slums, studying everything he walks past. You exchange a look with Folia—what does this mean?

It isn’t long before you (and everyone in this corner of Sector Five) find out: the tall man is named Julian Pierce, and he is the new high commissioner of the undercity. All the slums are now under his direct command.

“What’s a high commissioner?” one of the little girls whispers to you as he stops to introduce himself to the House Mother.

“He’s...kind of like a president,” you reply quietly. “He’s the one in charge of all of us.”

“No one’s in charge of me!” the girl insists, but you shush her gently and watch High Commissioner Pierce speak with your boss. He seems calm, polite, even cordial—but his eyes are glacier-cold as they sweep over the old brick building and all the orphaned children in the yard.

“You will be provided with what you need to care for these children. Furthermore, I will appoint a proctor to assist you with their education. My office will contact you with further information,” he says to the House Mother. Then he continues on, moving through the streets with his guards and leaving a chill in his wake.

Rufus Shinra is clearly consolidating his hold on the city and sealing off the power vacuum left behind by his father—and he’s starting off by closing his fist around the slums. Something sinks into the pit of your stomach.

This can’t be good news.

#biggs x reader #ff7 biggs #ffvii biggs #ff7r #fic: resonance #lo writes things

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venuscommissions · 5 years ago

Photo

heyooo guys ! so , last four months were literal hell for most people worldwide, me & my family included ! shit sucked balls , but thankfully i’m proud to announce that we’re slowly but surely getting back on our feet . a lot of you were genuinely concerned , & i received a ton of asks inquiring about my well-being & sending words of encouragement / hope / well wishes my way ... which even though i wasn’t in the right frame of mind to answer back then, they still warmed my heart & gave me some much needed strength. since , many asks are asking similar things, i thought it best to make one faq sorta post rather than answering each individually and clogging people’s dashboards.

so, basically a lotta third world bullshit happened, food stuff, medical stuff, etc. as my government implemented a very strict ( read : brutal ) lockdown that lasted more than three months. i don’t want to get into, because many people have had troubling times recently & i’d rather not make anyone upset / sad or even trigger them in any way. Know this though, after few months of me trying to just survive & not fucking starve, one of the main reasons of my not being active or doing anything was my laptop constantly breaking down, the issue with it being very simple, my ram slot had some carbon gunk on it, but alas. the first time it crashed in the beginning of may, the call center got me doing some tests on the phone via keyboard keys ( because laptop wasn’t opening. ) & they diagnosed that the issue was that my ram needed to be replaced. & since i wasn’t an essential worker ( i.e government or hospital worker ) they weren’t allowed to give me priority service or machine parts. it took them a month for them to ship the ram to my cities service center & to get a guy to my house to put it in. & when he did, the guy was either so overworked or stupid enough that he didn’t notice that there was some carbon gunk inside the ram slot & not just on the old ram chip. my laptop worked fine for some days, but crashed again. this time around, they once again put me on a waiting list, & it took the guy almost three weeks to come back around. this time though he finally fixed it, & i was able to start working again. so , yeah, i’m ok now guys, mostly lol ... but it really meant a lot to me that you guys cared enough to ask !

no, i’m not opening commissions right away, hopefully by the end of this month though. if you do wanna commission me though, & wanna be the first ones I inform when i do open, SEND ME A MESSAGE ON THIS TEMPORARY SIDEBLOG : @vc-neworders . please mention what you are planning to order & for which character, etc.

yes, even though my laptop was fixed at the end of june, & i’ve been working nonstop, i’ve only been able to finish half of my pending orders. this is partly due to me having 1500+ ims about stuff like psd recommendation & other general questions that people ask commissioners in my i.m. chat box that have accumulated during my four month absence & i’m having trouble finding pending orders as i have to deal with each chat one at a time & the shitty little chat box refreshes after every message i send. & also partly because this weeks of monday was a deadline for a ton of term end assignments & essays that i was supposed to have done over the summer but couldn’t because no laptop. IF YOU HAVE A PENDING ORDER THOUGH, PLEASE SEND ME A NEW MESSAGE. this will help me find our chat & subsequently your order & finish it. you will also be gifted various freebies from my side as an apology for the huge delay & for being so patient & understanding during these shitty times.

firstly, let me say how touched i was that so many people wanted to know if their was anyway they could help me, it made me all melty inside omg. and since i still won’t be able to open commissions for a bit, it is a very good question lol.... so, here’s how you can help support me till i’m able to open commissions :

BUY PSDs , ETC. FROM MY DEVIANTART SHOP ! all the stuff available can also be bought via PAYPAL , just DM me .

ALSO , THESE SALE DISCOUNTS ARE STILL AVAILABLE UNTIL I SAY OTHERWISE !

BECOME A PATREON ! this month i’m offering two exclusive psds for the price of one, to celebrate me surviving the world almost ending. THIS MONTHS PSD PREVIEWS !

BUY ME A KO-FI !

ONCE AGAIN , thank you so much for bearing with me, being patient with me & for just sending me some love when i needed it the most !

#I LOVE U GUYS

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iggy-of-fans · 6 years ago

Text

Part 6, here we are! Also, I hope nobody thinks I don't like Raven. She's literally my favorite TT ever. Hopefully I didn't lose too many of you to her turning. She does get a redemption, I promise!

Now, we're going to have the conclusion and the epilogue and then I'm done this one.

What is will always be

Damian had seen several of the magic users take to corners in the ballroom, and so when Jason returned fully costumed he took the Cat Miraculous and ran to the cave. He found Tim about to transform and stopped him.

"Take this one and transform instead" he said, "the weapon is a staff anyways. Give me the fox. I have an easier time hiding the eears under my hood. And my costume is brighter. No one will look twice at orange thrown in."

"That is…. Brilliant…. No One would believe you switched to a baton, and I don't know if we can switch weapons… Not that a flute is all that… Useful." Timothy said, handing the fox tail to Damien. They transformed quickly and threw on their costumes, finishing just in time for the others to start making their way down. Timothy tried to make it look like he was hiding something much larger than the little black triangles that blended into his hair, while Robin made sure his hat stayed securely on.

"The situation we find ourselves in today…."

When the JL saw that they had two missing teens Alfred decided to step in. He was out of practice, but he was sure he could help the teens. He looked to Oracle and begged the Miraculous box to open for him. It seemed his prayer was heard, at least somewhat, as the butterfly Miraculous fased up through the box.

"Oracle, take this. I will need your help to save those kids" Alfred handed her the Miraculous. Noroo awoke and looked at the woman, sitting patiently in a wheelchair and he gasped.

"oh my poor fairy! Who hurt you so?! I was hurt before too, do you want to help each other heal?" Noroo was quite young in comparison to the others in the inner circle and had very little experience out in the world. But he was eager to redeem himself in the eyes of the world. Barbara was shocked, but nodded. When the light faded, she sat in her chair with new purpose. A butterfly was born from her good intentions to help and landed on her hand. "Magic is so weird" she mumbled, before she thought of how to help the kids. She'd seen the fear in the shorter boys, but the taller one was determined to do the right thing. Him then. She powered up the butterfly, watching as Alfred concentrated hard as well. With a wave of his fan, the butterfly and feather took off to Metropolis.

… "Here's the plan, everyone. I need Tim to create an illusion of Robin to get close to Adrien and Alya. Then-"

"Sorry to interrupt Angel, but I don't fight with a staff" Robin stated, lifting his hood slightly to reveal the long fox ears. He dropped it and Guardian Angel looked shocked for a second.

"You brilliant, brilliant man!" she called, "Okay, new plan. We need a comm from their end. Can anyone do an impression of someone? Like Bane or something?"

"That would be me!" Red Hood called through the comms, shooting another assassin between the eyes.

"Perfect! Robin, use the mirage to create a ring under your left glove, make it real. You will have to be able to fake a cataclysm midway through, can you do that?" Robin just nodded his head, pulling the flute out from under his Cape and creating a perfect Bane replica. The battle still raging produced the perfect cover for them.

" Now, make it look like he's dragging you, don't fight too hard, or your illusion will vanish. Superman, get the real Bane and at least break his comm. Take the nerve toxin from Red Robin. Someone get the Red Hood the enemy communicator. Wonder Woman, assist Superman. Supergirl and Superboy. Are you recovered enough to take the ground troops out? Perfect. Remember Robin, you'll have to make an illusion of the ladybug earrings too. Tikki knows to run and hide as soon as he's distracted."

In Metropolis, Max had long since gone from scared to catatonic. Barely breathing and too terrified to speak. He'd been separated from Nino after their message was discovered. He was as good as dead.

Nino on the other hand kept tugging at his binds. There is a way out. Ladybug and Marinette would've found one. By Wayzz he hated himself. Why the hell had he let Lila get in the way of years of friendship? How had he believed the utter crap that came out of her mouth?

Luther had decided it wasn't worth the trouble to kill them since Adrien planned to just resurrect them with his wish, so he left them tied (and beaten and bloody) in a couple of offices on the top floor.. Nino glared at the door, anger coursing through him.

"Justice, I am Fairy Oracle, from Gotham. I can help you and your friend escape from not only this maniac, but away from the ones you once called friends."

"And I am Påfugl. I will lend you a companion to aide in your escape. If you accept our aide, unlike when you were Akumatized, you will remember and have ultimate control of your actions. What do you say?"

"I accept" Nino whispered. Immediately a green light overtook him. He felt the new powers coursing through him, but looking down he didn't look like his outlandish Bubbler form, but rather a bit like the American heroes, with a simple green spandex suit. He flexed his muscles. He didn't look too different from usual, didn't feel too different. But the binding broke from his muscles like glass. He wondered what the power up was hidden in. He hadn't seen the butterfly… Shrugging he looked to the door. He knew roughly that Max was in another office to the right of his own door. He also knew he had a minimum of four guards to fight through. He looked around for the companion he was supposed to receive.

"Look outside" a voice whispered through his head. He looked and saw a falcon flying in the distance, "when you're ready, jump. We will catch you."

Oh… Okay. He looked at the door and checked the slit to see if it was locked. Of course it was. Okay. Let's see how strong he really was. He yanked the door with all his might, pulling the door clear off the wall. Oops. The guards turned to look at this unknown and lifted their guns. Well, so much for stealth, Nino thought as he threw the door at the two guards. He saw the two that had take Max running down the hall from his right and he quickly picked the door back up and threw it at them too before taking off towards the rooms at the end of the hall. He broke three doors before he found Max, gaping at him like he had two heads.

"Let's GO!" Nino yelled, breaking the rope on Max and jumping out the nearest window.

"OH please dear God if I rot in jail, please just get us out of here" he whispered as he and Max fell fifteen stories and counting. Suddenly they abruptly stopped falling, claws closing in on their shirts as a giant falcon swooped over them and lifted off towards Gotham. Distantly Nino still heard the shouts from guards to shoot, but they were out of range.

With Bane subdued with Neuro-inhibitors, the assassins placed into bullet proof glass boxes, Scarecrow on his way to Arkham, and a quick Miraculous Ladybug to fix the damage, the heroes were left with a passed out Adrien and a cuffed Alya. Commissioner Gordon wanted to have Adrien brought to the hospital for treatment and Alya to the police station for questioning. But the heroes wouldn't be left out. Batman insisted he and Wonder Woman head to the hospital with Adrien. Red Hood nodded and asked Supergirl to accompany himself with Alya. Nightwing nodded to the passed out Raven, being held in cuffs by Star fire. Robin took hold of Guardian Angel and offered her a ride home on his Robin Bike. She smiled and was about to nod when a bird cry was heard from above. Looking up, everyone saw a giant falcon landing with two boys in its claws. They recognized them immediately as Max Kantê and Nino Lahiffe. Commissioner Gordon took them into custody as well, to decide what to do with them after, giving the heroes not joining for the Interrogation a rest. Guardian Angel thanked Comissioner Gordon, and went with Robin back to the batcave.

Once there, along with several other heroes who were recovering, Marinette tuned in to the screen where Red Hood and Supergirl were with Alya.

"Miss Cesaire, I am curious about what led you to follow Mr Agreste to Gotham" a translator sat in the room, turning her head to Alya.

"Lila Rossi is not a liar! I'm a journalist, I know this! She can't be a liar. That means Ladybug is and I just wanted her to admit Lila was telling the truth!" Alya screamed in frustration. The translator frowned as she spoke to Comissioner Gordon.

"What does that have to do with this incident?"

And so Red Hood gave the run down of Paris and what happened to Rossi, including her deportation and multiple lawsuits she was facing currently. The translator explained to Alya that the lawsuits were from both individuals who'd been lied about, including Jagged Stone and Clara Nightingale, as well as the city of Paris on behalf of Ladybug. Alya paled with the words, shaking her head frantically.

"Did you or did you not lead the planned attack on a former classmate on behalf of Lila Rossi?" Red Hood asked. But Alya was mute. She wasn't wrong. She wasn't wrong.

" Marinette was just jealous" Alya whispered. She wasn't wrong! "Marinette was just so jealous, she bullied Lila!" she finally screamed, "Ladybug could have fixed her!"

"Has the girl mentioned, Marinette, ever shown bullying tendencies before? Been outwardly cruel or antagonistic when provoked or jealous?" Comissioner Gordon broke in. Alya froze. She thought about Kagami and Chloe and all the girls involved in Adrien's life and tried to come up with an example. She lowered her head and shook it no.

" Has Ladybug ever been able to bring back a deceased that was killed outside of a magical attack by these Akuma?"

"She cured Lila's tinnitus!" she exclaimed.

"the same Lila that lied about being bullied, and has lawsuits against her from multiple sources? You believe this to be a credible source? Let me ask this, has she ever cured anyone else of chronic illness?" Gordon asked. Alya shook her head.

"So you came here with the intention of what… Using Ladybug, aka, Guardian Angel, to bring back all those you and your partner killed?" Gordon looked skeptical.

"you can wish for anything with the jewel of creation and destruction. Even for life to be breathed into the dead" Alya said clearly.

"Is that a fact?" Gordon turned to Red Hood. He shook his head.

"The consequences of making any wish can be destructive. A wish for peace might kill half the population, simply because less population means more resources. The law of Alchemy states that everything must remain in balance. To bring back a dear friend, you have to lose another dear friend first. To bring back 14 innocent people, 14 other innocent people would have to die. From my understanding, they planned on not only resurrecting the people they themselves killed, but also the classmate who committed suicide. On top of this, they also planned on creating a "perfect world" in conjunction, to make sure no conflict happened in their class specifically" Red Hood played the video on his phone of Nino explaining this before he was caught. Gordon frowned. He glared at Alya, who was pale. They couldn't bring them back. They couldn't bring any of them back and that meant Marinette was dead and she'd never be able to see or hug or apologize or…. Alya puked on the floor. The realization that even limitless power was in fact limited. Gordon nodded and told an officer to put her in a cell and call Paris.

When Adrien awoke, he was cuffed to a hospital bed, his head was bandaged down past the right eye, and his torso was strapped to the bed with a warm blanket. In the room with him were Wonder Woman and Batman. He frowned.

"Mr Agreste. Do you know where you are?" Wonder Woman asked. He tried to shake his head but he opened his mouth anyways.

"Gotham City" his voice was scratchy and dry.

"Do you know why we are here?"

"I tried to get the Ladybug and Cat mirculouses."

"Why?"

"Because Ladybug should've healed Marinette. My Princess should be here with me. Ladybug was jealous and let her die and sent Lila away and took my ring and my family from me! Everything was ruined because of her!" Adrien shouted. Batman looked at him. This was going to be a long day.

"Tell us what happened from your perspective?"

And Adrien did.

Okay, so.... Here's part six. Seven will be really short but I couldn't find a way to include it in this.

@bookreader20003

@mooshoon @artxyra @spicybelladonna @northernbluetongue @kuroko26 @mystery-5-5 @2sunchild2 @iwantswifttoblessmysoul @zelladane @ellerahs @thedarkwhiteangel @resignedcatservant @scribblinggraveyard @alexzandria-747 @nyctamaximoff @mysteriouslyswimmingfan-blo-blog @sapphiraazure2708 @tinybrie @dudet @thatrandomfandomsgirl @lunar-wolf-warrior @zazzlejazzle @zebrabaker @constancestruggle @unabashedbookworm @ginamarie1512 @mindfulmagics @bitterheart12224 @captainmac6 @blue-peach14 @enduskdragon @multishipper1needshalp @abrx2002

@throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen

#daminette #damian wayne #marinette x damian #marinette dupain cheng #maribat #marinette deserves better #maridami #Batfam #justice league #Lex luthor #Wonder woman

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gladrial · 5 years ago

Text

Bad Thing - Chapter 9

Author's Notes:

We are very, extremely, sincerely sorry for the long wait on the rest of this story! Most of it is already written, thanks ENTIRELY to Gladrial, just needing detail and polish. Thank you so much, from the bottom of our fangirl hearts, for enjoying this and letting us know! This is a story close to our souls and we cannot wait to share the rest with y'all!

Risque has put together a soundtrack for this fic on Spotify, though it frustratingly leaves out the song that inspired the title, which is the hard to locate "I've Done A Bad Thing" by Ellen Reid. Consider that the real first track!

---

August had started with a heatwave. A dumb, stupid heatwave that reminded Harleen of a time early in high school where she'd rode with some friends to a lake outside the city, eight teenagers packed in an ancient van with no air conditioning. Somewhere in the middle of Nowhere, Gotham County, the engine decided that life wasn't worth living and, since it was a time before everybody had a cell phone, they were stranded on a lonely stretch of road, with the sun beating down on them, and not even a brief breeze to bring respite. Most of them had also already been drinking, getting a headstart on the drinking they were going to do at the lake, which led to Harleen and her friend Amber taking turns holding each other's hair while they puked into the roadside weeds.

"...And that's why I'll never drink lemonade and vodka ever again," Harleen concluded, flicking the ash from her cigarette off the side of the balcony. "Or get in a van that's old enough to have grandchildren."

Miss Murton laughed, coughing out a cloud of cigarette smoke as she did.

Millie, Harleen reminded herself as the older woman had insisted she stop addressing her so formally. She patted her back, concerned, but Millie brushed her off, insisting she was fine.

"Just reminds me of my own youth, is all. I'm always tickled by how, at the heart, nothing ever changes."

-at the hands of the notorious Joker. Upon hearing his name, Harley suddenly became acutely aware of the televised news broadcast playing softly in the background, through the open sliding door.

"Turn it up," Harley asked, as she knew still had the remote and Harley was busy leaning her head to see the screen, her attention now focused fully on the shaky footage of wreckage and smoke.

Miss Murton grabbed the remote and raised the sound, the announcer's General American accent droning over an aerial shot of the scene, the view of twisted metal and firemen scaling rubble.

At least thirty-one dead in the wake of last night's attack on the subway. Many more in critical condition following the forced derailing.

"Horrible," Millie offered sadly. "I used to think that it was impossible for anyone to be truly evil. But him-"

Harley declined to respond. She'd never gone into detail about her job with Millie. Patient confidentiality notwithstanding, Leland had warned her not to let loose even the most mundane details of her job early on, particularly with such a high profile case. She could see why. Arkham Asylum was constantly hounded for information from the media and bribes worked exceedingly well, not just with general staff, but also for the doctors. Of course, aside from the obvious security risk idly chatting about her career would be, there was the real possibility that it would lead to morbid curiosity or straight-up avoidance.

Better to let someone really get to know you first, Leland had advised. Harley had taken it to heart. She didn't really want to get in a mental health debate with someone Miss Murton's age anyway, imagining she'd be very set in her ways.

Thankfully, Commissioner Gordon has confirmed that the clown prince of crime is currently in custody and awaiting his return to Arkham Asylum.

That certainly hadn't taken as long as Harley thought it would. After all the trouble he'd put her through to only be out a few days? ...Still he had indicated it was for a specific purpose. She realized uneasily that this must have been it.

"Make sure to lock the door behind him this time," her companion muttered bitterly behind another cigarette. "Honestly, why is it so hard to keep him in there?"

In this specific incident, Harley knew exactly why. She inhaled sharply, feeling that familiar pang of guilt trying to creep in. The one that he had argued out of her not a few nights ago. Exhaling, she decided this was a prime incident to bring up in their next session.

---

Dr. Quinzel waited patiently in the therapy room. Normally, she'd have some anxiety about seeing her patient once again, but it seemed strangely absent this time. Perhaps because it'd only been a week since she'd last seen him. Or perhaps because this was all becoming rather commonplace. A thought that, she knew, should fill her with concern, but somehow it didn't. This all felt...strangely natural.

Even so, things had been extremely tense the last time they saw one another. It had ended okay eventually, but there had been a point when she thought he really was done with her. So why then wasn't she the slightest bit scared?

She closed her eyes and briefly analyzed herself. Her behavior. His behavior. Their interactions. The answer lay there somewhere. He was done with her because she wasn't living up to his expectations. He should have killed her, but he didn't.

It was far from the first time it crossed her mind. He could have done it in the car. She remembered how angry he had been. He'd let her go instead. Why? She recalled other incidents when she'd irritated him on some level. Questioning him on the way to their date. She'd disappointed him that day too, on the rooftops. Times she said or did things that he found asinine.

All in all, very minor infractions, if infractions at all. But, she reminded herself, logic didn't matter where he was concerned. They were infractions to him. And it didn't matter how minor, he'd killed for far less, for seemingly no reason at all. She couldn't analyze him in the same framework as other people.

He'd had every opportunity. She'd allowed herself to be as vulnerable as a person can be around another. She should, by all accounts, be very dead…but she wasn't.

She went back to the night in question, when she'd disappointed him the most. He hadn't killed her. He'd approached her at home and actively sought her out for some form of understanding instead. She imagined he would have gone ahead with it, if she hadn't reciprocated.

She smiled to herself. He was seeking connection in the only way he knew how and she'd successfully risen to the occasion. Perhaps if others had made more of an effort...but then, a large part of her was selfishly glad no one had.

"Morning, Dr. Quinzel," Jeremy greeted her as he and Sean escorted her patient inside. "You look like you're in a good mood."

"It's going to be a good day," she replied, regarding the Joker. He had come in calmly without any of his normal quips. Instead he wore an expression of someone torn between surprise and self-satisfaction.

"Well, well. Look who's still here," Joker commented, after security had put the pitifully futile restraints on him and left.

"I'm your doctor," Harley replied, glancing above the brim of her glasses toward him, as she fingered through his most recent file. "Where else would I be?"

"That was entirely up to you," he reminded her. "All part of our bargain."

She cringed inwardly, but was certain it didn't show. She'd become rather good at hiding her inner thoughts, given the recent twists and turns of her life. She knew no one could hear them in here. Not unless she made the very stupid choice to record their session, something she could not afford at this point. Still, hearing the word 'bargain' between them, within these walls, was unsettling.

"As I recall," Harley said, putting his file down on the desk in front of her. "That was something you had come up with."

"Ah, so you helped me have my little romp out of the kindness of your heart then? If memory serves, you didn't seem too enthusiastic at the time."

This was off the topic she wanted to focus on, but part of her was glad he'd brought it up. After all, it was precisely what she had been thinking about before he'd entered. Therapy was meant to air thoughts that were uncomfortable to confront. In this case, uncomfortable for her...but still. Doing so with this would keep them from being bogged down by it later.

She tapped a pen rhythmically against the surface of the desk, considering her response. "Maybe I don't know what I want," she offered carefully.

Once the words had left her lips, she felt an unexpected weight lift off her shoulders. She'd had a plan. A plan that she'd been relentlessly pursuing, despite feelings she didn't want to admit to. Feelings that ultimately none of it was going to make her happy.

"Oh, but I think you do." He leaned in conspiratorially as much as his restraints would allow. "I have to admit, I was looking forward to following your career, but this is better. Much, much better. I was dreading whoever they were going to dump me on next. They wouldn't have been half as fun as you."

Harley laughed. "Well, while we're confessing things, it might have occurred to me that anything I could choose to do wouldn't be half as exciting as what we've been doing lately."

"Darling, you haven't seen anything yet," he promised with a wink. "Speaking of, what are the chances of you opening the door for me again, as it were?"

She let the pen drop from her hand. It landed absently on the floor as she stared at him, slack-jawed with a half-smile.

"What?" he continued innocently. "We could have one of our little sleepovers. You like those!"

"You just got here!" she exclaimed with disbelief.

"I wasn't suggesting it be today. I haven't even seen the old gang yet."

Harley shook her head absently. "Unbelievable," she said to herself, a giggle betraying her.

"That wasn't a no!" Joker declared triumphantly.

Harley pointed at the file in front of her assertively in an attempt to regain control of the conversation. "Getting back on track, we need to talk about the subway incident."

"Oh that." He rolled his head dismissively. "Last I heard, the death count has gone up to thirty-six. Hardly my record, but not bad."

"You're upset that more people didn't die as a result of your actions?"

"Oh, it could have been more," he replied, defensively. "Or it could have been none. See, that's the thing when playing with the Bat. You've got to have distractions in place. If you're single-minded, he will hone in relentlessly and you won't have a prayer."

"I don't understand," Harley admitted, wondering if it was better or worse that these massive acts of violence had a strategy behind them.

"Well, if I had planned, for example, to attack one subway train he would have sniffed that out. It's not like I was being subtle. I wanted his attention after all. So, he would have figured it out, stopped it, and dragged me away. A very short, anticlimactic game, wouldn't you agree?"

"So...what'd you do instead?"

"This time? Divide and conquer," he continued, smugly. "Instead of saying 'x marks the spot', I planted many an x. Unlike our resident riddle machine." He rolled his eyes heavily with disdain. "He literally wants to be caught. What kind of gimmick is that? 'Come catch me Batman.' 'Oh no. You caught me.'"

Harley snickered behind her hand, trying to compose herself.

"Feel free to laugh, my dear," the Joker encouraged. "He's truly a ridiculous man."

"I shouldn't encourage the mocking of another patient under our care," she stated, straightening her glasses.

Joker smirked at her with a tilt of the head. "He once had an underground game show. Do you know what he called it? The Riddle Factory."

She exploded in laughter despite herself. "Oh my god! That's so stupid."

"Agreed."

Blinking back tears, she suddenly regarded him with irritation. "You've gotten us off track again."

"My mind does tend to wander," he admitted apologetically. "Where were we?"

"Divide and conquer."

"Ah yes," he continued. "So I made it clear that my latest scheme would be taking place on the subway, but which station? Which train? Who could say? To make doubly sure, because the Bat is a crafty one, I redoubled my efforts. I actually had several explosives ready in different locations. Enough to keep the entire Bat-clan busy. By the time they had finished, they'd deactivated all but one. C'est la vie."

"A most engaging tale," she complimented. "But what happened wasn't really going to be my question."

"Apologies," he offered. "I appear to have jumped the gun."

"You were very insistent that this had to happen at a very specific time. Why?"

His eyes gleamed. "Oh, it was a very important anniversary. I couldn't possibly have missed it."

"Anniversary? For you and Batman?" she clarified, scribbling in her notebook.

"Who else would I go through so much effort for? To think he almost ruined it too," he finished sadly. "He appreciates the lengths I go to so little."

---

"I'm just saying that the physical health of the patients under our care should be just as, if not more, important than the mental care," Kirkwood stated pretentiously. "You can't care for the mind if the body is not healthy."

Harley hid the desire to roll her eyes yet again, struggling to look busy. Not that it ever worked. It was as though he was arguing not with her but at her, seeing as she never swapped words with him at this point. Why would he think that she, a psychiatrist, was a good candidate for this conversation?

This morning routine she was forced into was getting beyond tiresome. She was considering asking him to leave, point blank, even if it did open a can of worms at work she didn't want to deal with, when Jeremy suddenly walked in. Without a word, he pulled another chair up to her desk to join them, as though he had been expected.

"Thanks for inviting me," Jeremy said to her casually, setting down a coffee and bagel on her desk.

She stared at him awkwardly for a moment, before replying with a confused, "...You're welcome?"

"Not a bad way to start the day," he replied quickly, seemingly oblivious to the perplexed faces Kirkwood and she were throwing at him. "I never make time for breakfast."

Kirkwood wasn't just confused, Harley realized. He was annoyed. Really annoyed. Her eyes flashed quickly between him and back to Jeremy who was giving her a look with intent.

"Not a morning person then?" Harley asked him nonchalantly, suddenly acting as though she had expected him all along.

Jeremy's posture relaxed upon her understanding and hers followed suit. Kirkwood's only seemed to tighten all the more as a result.

"Not really," Jeremy admitted, taking a bite out of his bagel. "How about you?"

"I suppose life has forced me to become one, but I don't think I come by it naturally," Harley answered. "But I didn't have a lot of choice in college. Between classes and gym practice and meets-" she finished with a shrug.

"You did gymnastics in college?" he asked, sounding somewhat impressed.

"Yes. I actually got a scholarship through it." She didn't try to hide the sound of self-satisfaction in her voice, still rightfully proud of herself after all the grueling practice and sickeningly early mornings.

"No shit," Jeremy commented. "Well, show us what you can do!"

Harley chuckled, enjoying the attention. "I'd say I'm rusty, but I've actually gotten back in the swing of things lately. Just the same, I don't think here's the place and I'm not dressed right anyway."

"I'm a morning person," Kirkwood offered, which had nearly startled Harley, having momentarily forgotten he was there.

He must have realized as much, because he suddenly excused himself, claiming he needed to get to his wing of the building and started with his day. Both Harley and Jeremy wished him a good day and waited for the door to close behind him.

Jeremy instantly turned to Harley with a look of sincerity. "I'm so sorry. If I've overstepped my bounds, just say so. It's just...I've seen him bothering you a lot...or at least it seems like he's bothering you...and I just thought maybe it'd help if I-" He gestured around helplessly. "I don't know."

"Are you kidding?" Harley exclaimed. "You're my hero! He's been driving me absolutely up the wall! Thank you. A million times thank you. If you can see he's bothering me, why can't he?"

"He's just trying to wear you down. You don't have to put up with it, you know."

"I know," she sighed helplessly. "It's just...he hasn't really done anything. What am I supposed to do? Complain to HR that he won't stop exchanging pleasantries?"

"Well, if it helps," he offered. "I don't mind doing this more, if you'd like."

"Jeremy, you don't have to do that. I would never ask someone else to be subjected to him on a daily basis too."

"Have to? Who said anything about 'have to'?" he asked with a mischievous grin. "I'm still hoping to get a cartwheel out of you or something."

Harley laughed at that, good and loud. "We'll see," she offered simply, grateful not to have to face these awkward mornings alone anymore.

---

It felt surreal being there once more already, Harley mused as she entered the cemetery for the second time in four months. She'd barely been working at Arkham more than a year and here she was again for a work related death.

She silently walked with a small group of co-workers to the gravesite of the guard the Joker had killed during his latest escapade. Everyone was respectfully quiet, making it easy for her to get lost in thought. An image of a chalkboard declaring 'Zero Days Since Our Last Workplace Incident' came to mind and she stifled a chuckle.

All thoughts of levity quickly abated as she found herself face-to-face with an open casket. This wasn't the result of an unfortunate workplace accident. It had been cold-blooded murder.

The cold-face looking back at her as she paid her respects wasn't one she was familiar with from day-to-day. She only ever saw him once, but it was a face she'd never forget. The face of someone trying to comfort and reassure her, before he'd been brutally stabbed to death.

Stabbed to death with her knife. The knife she'd smuggled into Arkham. The knife she'd willingly given to a notorious killer and set loose.

She couldn't help feeling like this face, albeit dead, was staring at her knowingly, even through shut eyes. She was overcome with this feeling that it would continue to do so, even six feet beneath the earth. Even from the comfort of her home. Cold, dead eyes piercing her apartment walls.

Next thing she knew, Harley found herself seated in a folding chair. Several concerned faces watched her intently, though she managed to focus on Joan kneeling in front of her first.

"Take it easy," Joan suggested softly.

"Did-Did I faint?" Harley asked.

"No," her mentor assured her. "Well...perhaps nearly. Jeremy here made sure to catch you before you hit the ground though."

Harley looked up to see Jeremy smiling at her warmly. They both took a seat on either side of her as the service began, but she couldn't focus on the words. Even sitting between two people that obviously cared for her, she felt so alone.

She hadn't wanted to come. Knew it would only make things worse for her, but could see little way out of it. She'd been the last person to see him alive after all. All it served to do was make her feel completely guilt-ridden...which granted, why shouldn't she? Bad enough that she was responsible, but then she had to go and have a spell right there in front of everyone, making herself the center of attention during an event where she absolutely should not be.

At least Kirkwood wasn't here. He'd probably spend the remainder of the service mooning over her.

The casket closed with a dull thud and she felt herself jump slightly at the sound. She moved mechanically, following the crowd of people as they made to leave. Maybe she could blend in with them unnoticed and those dead eyes would lose sight of her.

---

It hadn't taken long before he'd convinced her to escort him out of the asylum once more. She'd agreed, but with the stipulation that it'd be done quickly and quietly this time. He didn't argue. She supposed she could have done so just as easily the first time around, avoiding bloodshed, if she'd just had gone through with it without a fuss.

What had followed was a rather lengthy stint of him coming in and out of her apartment at will, often staying the night and even conducting business over the phone in full earshot of her. One day, she'd come home with takeout and dessert to find him engaged in what she could only consider a kidnapping craft project, discarded letters cut from magazines and being glued to construction paper, the whole cliche topped off with a lunchbox of fingers in the fridge.

"See, Harl? The guy was already dead, it's not time sensitive. Plenty of time to eat and watch the movie, I can finish this after. Just push the box of Fred Fingers to the side and the cheesecake will fit." Both the Fred Fingers and cheesecake were gone by the next morning.

Though she wasn't aware of it at first, eventually a hat here, some socks there, and there was enough of Joker's laundry mixed with hers to fit in the top drawer. Which Harley emptied the moment she thought of it, feeling slightly drunk and giddy with the thought. Two of his purple trench coats, though different fabrics and shades of his signature purple, hung in the coat closet. One of his jester headed canes sat beneath, leaning against her vacuum.

Seeing his handguns casually out on a table or in a shoulder holster slung over the back of a chair was normal now and loose ammo cartridges were scattered around the apartment. Erring on the side of caution, she didn't move them, though she suspected it was less "strategic placement in case of attack" and more him emptying his pockets wherever he pleased. Appropriately, the Joker's belongings were home to a seemingly endless assortment of pill bottles, knives, and colorful "props" that she, as a rule, always considered dangerous.

They had meandering talks about everything and nothing, enjoying the constant stream of comedy that he played on the television. Relaxing on the couch, his head in her lap, her fingers brushing through his tousled curls as the smoke from their cigarettes curled around and up. She often snuggled against his chest in bed, her petite form enveloped by his long arms and his hands petting the back of her neck. At times, Harley had watched him sleep, marveling in the rare stillness of a face so often in motion.

She had to admit, she hadn't been this happy in years. It was so nice to have someone to come home to, even if it was sporadic.

And she noticed those eyes she had been so scared of following her home...they were strangely absent whenever he was around.

Harley brushed her teeth vigorously, taking note of his own purple toothbrush looking up at her. She shook her head in disbelief at the turn of events that had brought her here. It was such an innocuous thing, a toothbrush, but it was his and it was next to hers, something she doubted anyone else could ever claim.

The thought put a bounce in her step. She placed her own toothbrush in the holder next to his and skipped out of the bathroom to her bedroom.

"Well, someone's in a good mood tonight," he commented, looking up from his phone as she hopped into bed next to him.

"Why shouldn't I be?" She asked, melting into the sheets beneath her. "Life is good."

"Is it, cupcake?" He looked down at her suggestively, giving Harley that fluttery drop feeling in her stomach. "I know something that would make it even better."

Giving a blowjob was like riding a bike, Harley thought, falling quickly into the familiar movements with her tongue and lips. The Joker's cock was thick and long enough that she could only get a few inches after the head into her mouth at once, though he didn't seem to mind, petting and stroking her hair while murmuring words of affection and encouragement. She swirled her tongue around the soft skin near the slit, her left hand cupping and fondling his balls gently. Her right wrapped around the exposed length of shaft she couldn't fit in, her own fair complexion seeming like a deep tan next to his ever so lightly pink-tinged alabaster and tiny pulsing blue veins.

Though Harley was no stranger to giving head, she was surprised with how much more into it she was than with previous men, actually working herself up even with all her concentration on his pleasure.

And his were the only eyes she could see.

#jokerxharley #jhq #jarley #bad thing #fanfiction

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midnightlie · 6 years ago

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Man I'm so emotional you guys. I don't know if I was really vocal abt it but this past year has been hell on my mental health and it had just been getting steadily worse and worse and worse and I thought moving to Florida would fix me but two months then three months passed by and it was getting //worse// and then just

By some crazy chance I applied for this job thinking I had no chance whatsoever in landing it. Out of over 2000 applicants, 500 of us were invited to an interview. Out of those 500, only 150 of us were offered a position. More still dropped out since then. Most applicants were other flight attendants or other people who had gone through the FA interview process several times or who had worked on airports before and then there was me, with nothing but bakery experience and like

I can't even begin to describe how surreal this is? How I've suddenly landed a job that has amazing benefits and pays extremely well for no required college degree? That out of all the companies I could have applied for, I somehow got into the one that cares about you as a person and not just a number?

I'm so overwhelmed in the best, best way. I haven't felt sad or aimless since I started training; I feel like a totally different person and being here has made me come to terms with the possibility of all the things I have to be capable of. This job demands that I be better and I'm so excited about it. I've never been so excited for a job in my life. I can't believe this is happening to me. I can't believe I finally made the right choices and took the right opportunities. I feel like these past 7 shitty years post high school finally have some sort of meaning to them.

Anyways, I graduate on Thursday, I'll have my last test sometime in the week following, and then I'll be back more often on social media. If anyone has any questions about anything, let.me know!!!! Thank you to everyone who has stuck around, to all of my commissioners who have been so patient, to those of you who have exceeded my wildest dreams and supported me financially through the past few months without any demand for reciprocation, and anyone who read this whole sappy text post. I love you more than you know.

#tmi taylor #long post #kinda #YEAH 😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️

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lady-hammerlock · 5 years ago

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Through the Looking Glass - Chapter Ten (Telltale Batjokes & DC Comics Crossover)

AN: Sorry this one's taken so long guys. Between work and my mental health not being the best at the moment I've been pretty exhausted, but its finally done! We've only got one chapter left now. I hope you're all still enjoying Through the Looking Glass. :D

Just a head’s up as well that I’ve changed my username on AO3 to LadyHammerlock as well, in case you’re having trouble finding me.

CHAPTER TEN

It had been over twenty-four hours. No matter how Bruce looked at it, the Looking Glass should have been activated by now.

It hadn’t though. John Doe was still stuck in Wayne Manor, and was growing more and more restless by the minute.

“What if something’s happened to Bruce and the other me?” John asked. “What if… what if the Looking Glass is broken?”

Bruce didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to tell John the truth: that he had been anticipating this, dreading it, knowing deep inside of him that the Joker would find some way to complicate or ruin this like he managed to ruin everything else. He only hoped that the casualties in John’s world weren’t too high, and that whatever happened, they would still find a way to get John and the Joker switched over once more.

He hated this though; hated having to sit on his hands and not be able to do anything except cross his fingers and wait. All they needed was for the Joker to behave himself and follow instructions, just this one time, as impossible as that might seem.

He didn’t like the idea of leaving John alone; if only because he could switch places with the Joker at any moment, but as the hours wore on and there was no sign of anything changing at any time soon, Bruce grew more and more impatient, and less and less content with just sitting around and doing nothing, especially with the desperate, heartbroken, and yes, sometimes angry looks, that John kept sending in his direction.

Eventually Bruce’s restlessness (and John’s, for that matter) got the better of him.

“I’m going to contact Martian Manhunter and the League,” he told Dick and Jason.

Luckily Bruce’s two protégés had decided to stick around, at least until the situation with John Doe and the Joker was resolved. Bruce had rarely felt so grateful for their presence; not only because they were on hand to help in case of any emergencies that might crop up, but because they were able to distract John at least a little, and give Bruce a break from the other man’s desperate stares and the questions he kept asking that Bruce didn’t know how to answer.

“What?” Dick asked, his brows furrowing in a way that Bruce knew meant Dick was about to disagree with him.

“J’onn might know why the Looking Glass hasn’t activated yet,” he explained, prompting both Dick and Jason to start glaring at him.

“You know why it hasn’t activated yet,” Jason said, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “I’ll give you a hint; starts with a ‘J’ and makes our lives a living hell any chance he gets.”

“I just hope he hasn’t done anything too bad in the other world,” Dick said, pursing his lips and leaning back against the kitchen table.

“We can’t just sit here and wait!” Bruce snapped, his tone angrier than he had meant for it to be. Dick and Jason weren’t responsible for any of this after all.

“So you’re going to leave John with us again?” Dick asked. “What happens if they switch back while you’re gone?”

John was looking between the three of them, looking anything but happy with the situation, but that didn’t tell Bruce much. John had been alternating between pouting, scowling and fidgeting restlessly for the past few hours, and nothing had really changed.

“I’m sure the two of you are more than capable of taking care of the Joker if that should happen,” Bruce said, trying to ignore the surge of worry that gripped him at the thought of Dick and Jason having to fight the Joker on their own. He tried to tell himself that even though the Joker had been able to beat the two of them in the past, it had only been with careful planning and preparation. Dick and Jason would be more than capable of taking the criminal out on their own. They would have to be.

“He’ll be disoriented,” Bruce added, as much for his own comfort as Dick and Jason’s. “That will be your chance to take him down.”

Dick and Jason didn’t look any more comforted by Bruce’s words than Bruce himself had been.

“Contact me if the switch happens while I’m gone,” he continued, “and I’ll return as quickly as I can.”

None of them seemed particularly happy about their current situation. All four of them were restless, and Alfred had refused to show his face at all for most of the day.

Bruce could only hope that things went back to normal as soon as possible.

John hated waiting. It wasn’t that he couldn’t be patient when he needed to be, but that didn’t mean he had to like it, especially not when his Bruce’s life might be on the line. There was nothing that he could do though. He was stuck here; stuck in this stupid world where everything sucked and where he couldn’t do anything to help; stuck inside Wayne Manor and unable to leave, which wouldn’t have been a problem if it had been his Wayne Manor, but it wasn’t.

Alfred hated him, the Bruce of this world wanted as little to do with him as possible, and even Dick and Jason didn’t want to be left alone with him now. John knew that was less because of him and more because of how terrible the other Joker was, but that didn’t stop it from hurting; not entirely at any rate.

He just wanted to go home. He wanted to see his Bruce; to hug Bruce as tight as he could and bury his face in Bruce’s shoulder and never, ever let go again.

He couldn’t have that though. Not now. Maybe not ever. The other Joker could have killed Bruce and destroyed the Looking Glass and none of them would ever know.

John could be stuck in this world forever.

“Hey, don’t worry buddy,” Dick said, clamping a hand down companionably on John’s shoulder. “You get to hang out with the two of us again. I promise that this time I’ll even make sure that Jason here doesn’t make fun of you too much.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Jason sniggered.

Dick snapped at him, subtly, as though John wasn’t supposed to notice it, but he did. Dick really did seem like a nice guy, and he had done everything that John supposed that he could to make sure that John felt as welcome as possible while in this world, but it didn’t matter. Dick wasn’t Bruce, and this wasn’t home, and everything was just so strange and wrong here, and John just wanted to be back home in Bruce’s arms so badly that it almost hurt.

“What do you say?” Dick said. “Oh hey! Why don’t we watch a movie together? I’m kind of curious to know whether the movies in your world are the same as ours.”

“Thanks but no thanks guys,” John said, gently pushing Dick’s hand off his shoulder. “I think I just need some time to myself.”

“Oh um… I guess that’s okay too,” Dick said.

John had already started to walk off.

“Hey, where are you going?” Dick asked.

“I’ll be in the Batcave,” John said. “It’s… well… it’s familiar, you know?”

“I’m sorry John,” Dick said gently, reaching out to grab John by the shoulder once more. “But we can’t let you go down there by yourself. What if the swap happened while you were in the Batcave without us?”

John wanted to frown at Dick. He wanted to scowl and shout at him. Couldn’t Dick see how much just sitting in the Manor and doing nothing was eating away at John?

He suppressed the instinct to snap though. He knew that stress of his current situation (not to mention the fact that he hadn’t taken his meds in days now) was starting to get to him. Dick had been pretty nice so far. He shouldn’t take it out on him.

“Please?” he tried instead, forcing himself to smile at Dick. “Just for a few minutes, you know? You can come down and check on me if you need to, but I just… I just need…”

He just needed a few minutes in the Batcave by himself. That was all. Just a few minutes and then everything would be just that little bit easier to bear.

Dick didn’t look entirely convinced, but eventually he sighed and dropped his head.

“Yeah, okay,” he said. “But just a few minutes all right?”

John made sure that his grin wasn’t too wide as he pounced on Dick and gave him a quick, tight hug.

“Thanks buddy!” he said, as he pulled away. “You’re the best.”

He heard Jason muttering something to Dick as he left the room; something that sounded far from happy, but as long as Jason wasn’t unhappy enough to stop John from going downstairs to the Batcave, then John didn’t care.

Besides, he had a feeling that Jason was never happy anyway, so what difference did it make if John and Dick were the ones to make him unhappy this time?

When the Joker and Commissioner Gordon had tumbled off the GCPD rooftop, Bruce had been terrified. How had the Joker managed to disappear? He might have worried that the Joker had activated the Looking Glass mid-fall, but there was no sign of John.

He managed to concoct about half a dozen scenarios, each one more fantastical and worrying than the last, but soon discovered the truth only minutes later in the form of an open window on the top floor of the GCPD building, right below where the Joker had jumped with Gordon.

The criminal had made a swift getaway after that. There were dozens of witnesses in the GCPD building who were able to tell Batman how the Joker had escaped with his gun still pressed to the Commissioner’s head. No-one had been willing to risk the Commissioner’s life, and so the Joker had managed to get away.

The Joker clearly had been far less worried about discretion than Bruce might have anticipated. Trying to explain all of this once John made it back home (and he was going to make it back home, no matter what the darker corners of Bruce’s psyche were trying to whisper to him) was going to be an absolute nightmare.

With so many witnesses Bruce had hoped that the Joker might have given away at least some hint as to where he was going to take the Commissioner, and what he was planning on doing with him, but the Joker had given nothing away at all, just yelled some vaguely nonsensical threats about blowing Gordon’s brains out if any of the police tried anything, and a few comments about Batman that made it very clear that he was expecting Bruce to track him down and try to stop him.

When it became clear that the scene at the GCPD would not offer him any clues, Bruce returned to the Batcave.

He was furious; with the Joker, and with himself, for allowing the Joker to do what he had done. He should have been more cautious. He should have been quicker. He should have…

God, he was exhausted. The fact that the Joker now held not only the Commissioner but the Looking Glass as well (and with it, Bruce’s only hope of getting John back) as bargaining chips certainly wasn’t helping things. He felt as though the entire situation was out of his control. It was a feeling that he hadn’t felt for a long time, and one that he absolutely hated.

For all he knew, Commissioner Gordon could already be dead and the Looking Glass destroyed, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

No. He couldn’t think like that.

There had to be something that he could do. The Joker expected Batman to find him. He hadn’t left any messages or any clues, so there had to be something else.

The Looking Glass. The radiation signal that it gave off had been unique.

Bruce’s tech could pick up radiation spikes. It wouldn’t be easy, especially not without a tech whizz like Lucius Fox to help him, but he should be able to adjust the scanners to look for a specific energy signature.

It took hours of work, and a couple of failed starts, but eventually he was able to narrow the scan down far enough that he was able to pinpoint the Joker’s location; or at least, the location of the Looking Glass.

When he saw the location the Joker had picked, he felt as though his heart had lodged in his throat.

“We’re sorry Bruce,” Dick said almost as soon as Bruce had returned to the Manor.

Bruce’s heart immediately lurched. He looked to Jason, who was nervously scratching at the back of his head and refusing to meet Bruce’s eyes. What the hell could Dick and Jason be sorry for? Bruce had left them with John and John was nowhere to be seen…

Surely Jason hadn’t...? He couldn’t have. Bruce was sure that Dick would have stopped any attempt Jason might make to actually hurt John. It had to be something else.

“Where’s John Doe?” Bruce asked. He had meant to ask something else; perhaps something a little more general and a little less telling as to where his suspicions and worries had immediately turned.

“That’s just it,” Dick replied. Jason was still silent. “We don’t actually know.”

“You lost him?” Bruce growled.

“We lost him,” Dick admitted. “He said that he wanted to be alone for a while, and considering everything he’s been through we thought that surely a few minutes to himself was the least that we could do but er…”

“You thought that!” Jason snapped. “Bruce, I just want it to go on record that I was against this from the start.”

“It never occurred to you that John might switch places with the Joker while out of your sight?” Bruce snapped. “Leaving the Joker to roam around the Manor completely unsupervised!”

Bruce knew that it wouldn’t be fair to take his anger out on Dick and Jason, never mind the fact that this was almost entirely their fault. He took a deep breath. What he needed to do was think. John probably couldn’t get far on foot. They just needed to find him and bring him back before anything could happen.

“Oh, he took one of your cars by the way,” Jason said. “The red Lamborghini.”

Bruce cursed beneath his breath.

Ace Chemicals. The Joker had retreated to Ace Chemicals.

Bruce was sure that somewhere, someone was laughing at him, and it wasn’t just the Joker.

Bruce had jumped back into the Batmobile and had driven to the old factory, although not perhaps, with the same sense of urgency with which he had returned to the Batcave.

Bruce parked the Batmobile out front and soon found a way inside. The place was eerily quiet. Nothing but the creaking of old architecture and a few strange bubbling and dripping noises coming from inside the plant to disturb the silence.

It looked the same as it had the last time Bruce had been in here. There was still the same eerie green glow; still the same acrid stench of something that had been left in one of the vats for far too long.

God, Bruce was so amazingly glad that they had managed to move past that horrible evening. It was, perhaps, a miracle that they had.

He kept as alert as he possibly could, keeping an ear out for any sounds that might give away the Joker’s position. He thought he heard a burst of laughter, but if it was the Joker’s laughter that he had heard, then it had come from far away, and had echoed through the abandoned factory to make its way to his ears. He felt like the Joker was watching him; probably perched somewhere up high and laughing as Bruce stumbled his way around the factory’s lower levels.

He found Gordon before he found the Joker. The Commissioner had been handcuffed to a pipe near the entrance to the Ace Chemicals factory floor and apparently abandoned. The Joker had used Gordon’s own handcuffs against him from the look of things.

Gordon was muttering and cursing beneath his breath as Batman approached, apparently trying to break out of the cuffs with no luck.

“Damn it,” he cursed as Batman approached. “Sorry Batman. That bastard got the better of me.”

Bruce quickly scanned Gordon as he approached, looking out for tripwires or anything that might injure either of them should he approach Commissioner Gordon too carelessly. The whole thing; the fact that Gordon had been left here and the Joker was nowhere in sight, screamed ‘trap’ to Batman, but there was nothing that he could make out.

“Are you injured?” he asked, already looking Gordon over for any evidence that the Joker had hurt him. There were a few bruises and scrapes, and the Commissioner’s arm looked to have been dislocated, but Bruce couldn’t see anything life-threatening.

“I’ll survive,” Gordon growled as Batman worked on removing the cuffs. “You need to be careful though, you hear me? That nutjob dragged me all the way here just to get to you. No other reason he’d take a hostage and then just leave me here. He wanted you to find me.”

Bruce had been thinking the same thing.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I know what I’m up against.”

He didn’t. Not really, and the truth was he was trying to convince himself of that as much as Commissioner Gordon.

“He’s not going to take me by surprise again.”

“I damn well hope so,” Gordon said. “I’ve only known this bastard for a matter of hours and I can already tell you that I never want to see him again.”

In the end John’s thievery proved to be a good thing. The Lamborghini he had taken had a tracker attached to it in case of thievery, like all of Bruce’s more expensive cars. Whatever John’s intentions might have been, Bruce didn’t think that they were nefarious, and the fact that John hadn’t thought to disable the tracker before stealing the car probably meant that whatever he was up to, it wasn’t anything too bad.

A scan for the car revealed that it had come to a stop just outside of Arkham Asylum.

Bruce cursed beneath his breath. He should have known that John would be drawn back there. He was more worried for John Doe at this stage rather than worried about anything the other man might do. After all, he wasn’t sure why John had chosen to return to the asylum, but he knew the sort of monsters that awaited him inside; monsters that John would have absolutely no idea how to deal with.

“Looks like he’s grabbed some gear too,” Jason called out. He had been wandering around the Batcave, taking stock of everything while Bruce tracked the car and Dick hovered nearby. “One of your grappling guns and a few batarangs are definitely missing.”

Bruce remembered then how distressed John had been by the conditions at Arkham Asylum. The car alone might have meant that John was simply planning to get some help or medication, or possibly investigate something, but the missing equipment almost definitely meant that he had something else in mind.

“Don’t know how you lay out all of your fancy tech shit well enough these days to tell if he’s taken anything else,” Jason offered as he approached Dick and Bruce by the Batcomputer.

The tech that they already knew he had taken was worrying enough to Bruce.

He stood up from the Batcomputer and moved over to pick up the Batsuit’s cowl and gauntlets. He had only taken them off a few minutes ago. Hell, he was still wearing most of the Batsuit after his completely fruitless visit to the Justice League.

“You’re going after him?” Jason asked.

Bruce didn’t even dignify that with an answer. Of course he was going after John. He couldn’t not go after John. Not when he knew the other man was planning something that potentially involved Arkham Asylum.

“You want us to suit up and go with you?” Dick asked.

Bruce glanced over his two protégés. Jason was already practically ready to go, but Dick didn’t appear to have any of his equipment on hand. He couldn’t wait for the younger man to traipse back to Bludhaven and, if he was being completely honest with himself, he wasn’t in a particularly good mood with either of them.

“No,” he said. “The situation is delicate enough as it is.”

He told himself that it was the truth; that he couldn’t risk either Dick or Jason destabilizing the situation with John Doe any more than they already had, and that Bruce wasn’t letting his temper get the better of him.

“I need the two of you to stay here in case John comes back,” Bruce said. “Contact me as soon as you hear anything, about him or about the Joker.”

He could only hope that the switch happened while John was at Arkham, and not before.

In a matter of minutes Bruce was speeding towards Arkham Asylum in the Batmobile, going as fast as he possibly could, and hoping that he wouldn’t be too late.

He patched himself into Arkham’s private security feed as he drove, hoping that there would nothing out of the ordinary, and that when he arrived at Arkham he would discover that John was either still sitting in Bruce’s car, or had taken himself to talk to one of the doctors, but as soon as the security feed crackled into life he knew that he had been hoping in vain.

“… Sharp hostage. I repeat; the offender has taken Warden Sharp hostage.”

“What the fuck?” another voice crackled into life over the radio. “Is this the Joker or not? Nobody can fucking tell me…”

“Ivy and Quinn have retreated to the northern gardens, but are still believed to be armed and dangerous. I repeat… Ivy and Quinn are still on the grounds.”

Bruce cursed beneath his breath and wished that he could be travelling even faster than he already was. This was worse than he had anticipated. John had taken the warden of Arkham Asylum hostage, and whatever he was doing, he had managed to get Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn on side.

If it wasn’t for the two women helping John, Bruce might have even been afraid that the two Jokers had switched back. This, whatever John was planning, seemed to be at a much larger and chaotic scale than Bruce would have thought John capable of. Harley and Ivy would never help the original Joker though; no matter what his plan might be.

Bruce could only hope that whatever John and the two women were planning, Bruce would be able to get to Arkham Asylum before things grew too grim, and that the staff at Arkham would be able to hold out until he got there.

Bruce felt his heart pounding as he opened the doors to the Ace Chemicals factory floor and stepped into the large, shadowy room. The last time he had been here he had almost lost a friend, almost lost himself as well. There was a bitter tang to the whole place; rust and whatever chemicals had been left in the vats, and what Bruce would have almost sworn was blood.

If Bruce searched there wouldn’t be any blood here though. The Agency had insured that any evidence of John Doe and their presence in the Ace Chemicals building had been cleaned up as quickly as possible; fingerprints, footprints and all traces of gunpowder polished away, and every tiny spot of blood scrubbed from the catwalks and the cemented floor below.

Of course it was possible that the Joker had spilled new blood, but Bruce knew that it was not the case. Being back here was playing tricks on his mind. He knew that, and not for the first time, he found himself wondering why the Joker would choose this place above all others.

He thought he saw a shadow dart across the wall in front of him, but when he turned there was nothing there. Had the Joker always been this fast? Was John? Bruce knew that his partner could move quickly when he wanted to, but he was hard pressed to imagine him darting between shadows as successfully as the Joker was currently doing.

He told himself he was just imagining things; that the shadows and the traumatic memories he carried of this place were playing tricks on him again.

“This way Bats…” a voice said from up above.

Bruce glanced up, but didn’t see any sign of the Joker, or of anyone else. He just found himself looking at the same catwalk on which he had faced John Doe, the man that he had loved; even in those terrifyingly violent moments, covered in blood and having just brutally murdered three agents.

“Why here?” Bruce muttered beneath his breath as he grappled up to the catwalk.

The Joker finally appeared then, strolling down the other end of the catwalk towards Bruce with a wide grin on his face. Bruce glanced over him, and sure enough, he spotted the Looking Glass, tucked beneath the Joker’s jacket and attached to his belt. At least the Joker still had it. Bruce still had a chance of getting John back.

“Well here we are,” the Joker said, spreading his arms wide as though welcoming Bruce to the factory. “The old stomping grounds.”

Bruce forced himself to put one foot in front of the other. It was harder than he would have liked. This place had the same disastrous effect on him these days as Crime Alley did. His heart pounded too heavily, and too quickly, as though at any moment he was going to be plunged back into the awful memories that both places summoned.

He tried to think back to everything he had told the Joker about his time with John. Surely he hadn’t mentioned Ace Chemicals though. He hadn’t even talked to Alfred or Avesta about what had happened here. It just hurt too much to remember what had happened. He hadn’t even really talked about it with John.

The Joker couldn’t possibly have found out what this place meant to Bruce and John, which meant that it meant something to the Joker and his version of Batman too, but what?

“Ah, such fond memories,” the Joker said as he practically waltzed up to Batman.

“Give me the Looking Glass,” Batman demanded.

“No hello? You’re not even going to ask what memories I’m talking about?” the Joker asked, twisting away from Batman and out of reach of the hands that had tried to grasp at his jacket. “Oh Bats, you disappoint me. Aren’t you the least bit curious? No? Well, frankly I find your behavior today to be quite rude.”

Batman made a grab for the Looking Glass, but the Joker twisted out of the way again.

The criminal tutted and shook his finger at Bruce as though he was dealing with an unruly child.

“Honestly Bats,” he said. “You absolutely have to learn how to observe the niceties more than you do. Surely even you know that at least an introduction is required before you go around trying to grab people.”

He unhooked the Looking Glass from his belt and held it up in front of him, obviously taunting Bruce with it.

“Why, it would serve you right if I was to simply toss this over the edge and let it fall into a pit of acid…”

The Joker moved as though he was about to throw the Looking Glass over his shoulder and into the vat below him.

“No!” Batman screamed, charging at the other man and pinning him to the railing of the catwalk.

“Easy now Bats,” the Joker said, cackling madly as he did. “Not that I mind, but you could have knocked it right out of my hand, surprising me like that.”

He leaned in close, so that his lips hovered barely inches away from Bruce’s own, and when he next spoke there was a menace in his voice that hadn’t been there before; a menace that Bruce had only heard a handful of times during the Joker’s stay.

“And wouldn’t that just be so perfectly, deliciously ironic,” he hissed. “You, watching your only chance to bring back your beloved John Doe go tumbling down into that vat down there. Oh, I almost wish it had happened.”

Bruce was already on edge. The Joker’s taunting certainly wasn’t helping. He found his hands clenching into fists, and he knew it was only the threat of the Looking Glass’s destruction that was stopping him from charging straight at the Joker and beating him into submission.

“Who knows?” the Joker cackled. “It might even be for the best. Don’t you think so Batsy? Why, the two of us could continue this lovely dance! And I’m sure you’ll agree that I’m so much more interesting than poor, sweet innocent John.”

The Joker threw his arm and the hand that was holding the Looking Glass over edge of the catwalk, the action so haphazard that Bruce wouldn’t have been surprised if the Joker dropped the Looking Glass accidentally.

“Don’t!” Bruce said, lunging for the Looking Glass only for the Joker to snatch it back away from the edge and start giggling maniacally.

“Why would you do that!?” Batman screamed. “That’s your only way home.”

“Some people just want to watch the world burn Batsy,” the Joker replied offhand. “I thought you would have understood that much about me by now.”

No. Bruce refused to believe it. There was a point to all of this, even if Bruce couldn’t see what it was. Even if the Joker refused to admit it.

He couldn’t think straight though; not while the Joker was tossing his only chance of getting John back up into the air as though it was nothing more than a plaything; not while his heart was thumping so hard in his chest.

He charged towards the Joker, who pulled a blade from somewhere within his jacket. Bruce managed to dodge the first swipe of the blade, but not the second, which caught him on the torso and managed to slice through the tough material just enough to leave a gash on the side of his stomach.

The Joker was still holding the Looking Glass, which meant that he could only use one hand. It put him at a disadvantage, but it also meant that Bruce had to be careful when attacking the Joker. One wrong move could see the Looking Glass flying off the catwalk and into the vats down below.

Bruce tried to focus on getting rid of the Joker’s knife. Eventually it fell, clattering onto the catwalk, and Bruce was able to kick it off and over the side. The Joker watched the knife fall away for only a moment, before darting away from Batman and dashing towards the other end of the catwalk.

“Joker!” Batman screamed, before running after him.

When Bruce caught up to the Joker he had placed the Looking Glass down on the ground directly behind him, and was standing in front of it, defending it as a mother animal would her child.

“Come on Batsy,” the Joker said. “Come and get it.”

Bruce’s blood was boiling. He didn’t even bother trying to make a grab for the Looking Glass. He knew that the Joker wouldn’t allow it, and besides, there was something inside of him that wanted the chance to fight the Joker; wanted to pummel him into the ground and make him pay for everything that he had put Bruce and now Gordon through over the past few days.

Bruce charged. The Joker dodged his first attack, as though he had known exactly what sort of move to expect from Bruce, and then the second, and then managed to land a couple of quick punches to Bruce’s torso. There was a surprising amount of force behind the blows, considering the Joker’s size, and it occurred to Bruce in that moment that he was dealing with an opponent who had a significant advantage over him.

The Joker was used to this dance. He knew exactly what was going to happen; knew the sort of moves Bruce would make before he had even made them.

He was grinning too, and there was more than just cruelty behind that smile this time. The Joker was actually enjoying this. His eyes never left Bruce as they fought, staring up at him with so much attention that Bruce felt a little uncomfortable.

Bruce stumbled, and his next blow didn’t connect, but the punch after did, slamming into the Joker’s face so hard that his nose immediately began bleeding.

The Joker took a moment to wipe his hand against his bloodied nose, but didn’t stop grinning.

“Oh, this is too easy,” he said, smiling at Batman as he dodged the next couple of Bruce’s swings. “Do you know how many people I would have had to kill to get this sort of focused attention from you back home?”

Bruce ignored the other man’s words, and felt a disturbingly strong pang of satisfaction as his next blow landed. He saw, rather than heard, the Joker’s breath catch as he successfully landed another blow, and then another.

By the time Batman arrived at Arkham Asylum, the guards had managed to isolate the wing in which John had taken Warden Sharp hostage. He found Aaron Cash and a handful of guards standing outside the door, ready to storm it.

“All right,” Cash was speaking into his radio as Bruce approached. “Good work. We’ll take the clown down in no time then.”

He looked up as Bruce grew close.

“Hey Batman,” he said. “That guy you brought in here the other day has a gun to Sharp’s head. Should be easy to take him down though. Guy’s clearly nervous and has absolutely no idea what he’s doing.”

“You’re sure he ain’t the Joker?” one of the other guards asked, while Bruce tapped into the asylum’s security feed, so that he could get a good view of the room beyond.

John was standing on the upper level of the large room, where he had a good view of the only clear entrance. Unfortunately for John, both Bruce and Arkham’s security forces knew the asylum far better than he did, and were only minutes away from entering the room through a small back corridor; one which looked like little more than a storage closet from inside the room and would allow them to enter directly behind John.

“That definitely isn’t the Joker,” Cash replied, sounding as though he was more than a little tired of answering that particular query. Bruce could certainly relate.

“No way that the Joker would ever make things this easy,” Cash continued. “That guy in there; he didn’t even really have a plan. Only reason he was able to get his hands on Sharp was because we weren’t ready for him. As far as we can tell he’s just making this all up as he goes along.”

“And Poison Ivy and Quinn?” Bruce asked.

“My men are rounding them up as we speak,” Cash replied. “It seems their only goal was to break out a dozen or so prisoners in one of the lower security wings. A few of them managed to get out and are still on the loose, but none of them were particularly high-profile.”

They might not be as infamous as Quinn or Ivy were, but there would be a reason why the two women had wanted to get these particular inmates out of Arkham. That would be a problem for another time though; one that Bruce would have to worry about once this whole mess with John was sorted out.

The security cameras didn’t have sound, but Bruce didn’t need them to hear when John started shouting. His voice carried well enough, as did the pain within it.

“This is all wrong!” he was screaming. “All of you are terrible people, and I’m the only one who seems to even notice it! You can’t keep sick people locked up like this! You’re all monsters!”

Bruce patched into Arkham’s intercom system, hoping that he might be able to talk John down before the situation escalated.

“John,” he began, watching the other man through the cameras as he startled at the sound of Batman’s voice. He looked up, as though he might spot Bruce in the rafters overhead.

“You need to let Warden Sharp go,” Bruce continued. John glared up at the ceiling and apparently tightened his hold on the warden.

“I know that you’re scared,” Bruce said. “You want to go home. But that isn’t Warden Sharp’s fault, or the fault of Arkham’s staff.”

“No!” John screamed, waving his gun about. He still seemed to be trying to find Bruce in the darkness overhead. It was no use. Even if Bruce had been in the room with John then he wouldn’t have let the other man spot him.

“This isn’t about that!” John continued. “This place is all wrong. You’re all so cruel! Someone needs to do something about it, and if I’m going to be stuck here then it might as well be me!”

“You’re not going to be stuck here,” Bruce continued. “We’re going to get you home. I promise you John.”

John let out a wordless cry of frustration in response to that.

“He’s not letting go of the warden,” Cash commented. “We’re gonna have to do this the hard way and you know it Batman.”

Damn it all. John was so clearly out of his depth here. The security team certainly wouldn’t need Batman’s help to take him down, but Bruce was still glad that he had arrived at the scene when he had.

“Be careful,” Bruce muttered. “He has that gun pointed right at Sharp’s head. If he’s startled then he might fire and kill Sharp whether he’s meaning to or not.”

“All right,” Cash said, nodding back at the rest of his team. “We go in on three.”

With that Cash started counting down, and then they were busting down the door and storming into the room beyond.

John immediately whirled around, thankfully letting his hold on Sharp go in favor of pointing the gun at his attackers. Several shots went off, one of which embedded itself harmlessly in the layers of Bruce’s Kevlar, but none of the guards were hit.

John seemed to flinch when he realized he had shot Batman, and that second of hesitation was all that the guards needed to pounce on John. Within seconds they had manhandled him and had him pinned to the ground, his face pressed roughly against the floor.

The whole encounter had taken less than a minute.

John struggled half-heartedly as one of the guards slapped a pair of handcuffs on his wrists.

“Come on you,” one of them said as he hauled a now rather ruffled and slightly bruised John to his feet. “I’m sure we’ve got a cell around here somewhere with your name on it.”

“No!” Batman said, stepping in to stand beside John. “You can’t do that.”

“Come on Batman,” one of the guards said. “I’m not going to say I understand it, but everyone here knows you’ve got a protective streak for the clown that’s wider than my ass. We’re just trying to do our job, so stand aside and let us do our job!”

“Yeah, we ain’t gonna hurt him any more than you usually do,” another chimed in.

“I know what this looks like,” Batman said. “But this isn’t the Joker. You can’t arrest him and confine him here.”

“Can’t we?” Cash said, stepping up to Bruce and staring him down. Bruce had to give him some credit. Not many people had the guts to try and glare Batman down, but obviously Aaron Cash was one of them.

“He may not be the Joker, but he’s still a criminal Batman,” Cash continued. “What the hell else are we supposed to do with him, huh? Just hand him over to you? That ain’t how this is supposed to work. He almost killed Warden Sharp, and you just want us to look the other way?”

Bruce frowned.

“The situation is more complicated than you know,” Bruce said. “I’ll take full responsibility for John’s actions here today, and I’ll be taking him into my custody now. You won’t need to worry about him any more after this. I promise you that, and I promise you that I’ll have the real Joker back in Arkham soon.”

“You’re making an awful lot of promises today Batman,” Cash said, glancing over at John, who was looking as miserable as Bruce had ever seen him. “Better start keeping some of them.”

Cash clearly wasn’t happy with the situation, and Bruce was sure that he would have words for Batman if he failed to deliver on his promise, but considering how many of the assembled guards still looked like they’d happily put a bullet through John’s forehead, Bruce would consider it a victory, at least for now.

John was exhausted. Nothing about this day was going right. He had thought that if someone had pointed out how bad everything in Arkham was then at least someone would listen. Even if… even if he’d needed to hurt some people then it would have been worth it.

But no-one had listened. No-one had wanted to listen. They’d all just pointed their guns at him and they’d all wanted to shoot him, or at least lock him up so he wouldn’t be able to point out how horrible they were all being any more.

In fact, the guards might have killed him if Batman hadn’t been there.

God, this universe was just the worst. Everyone was so cold and mean. John just wanted to be back in his own universe, with his own Bruce, but there wasn’t even anything he could do to help make that happen. Why hadn’t the other Joker used the Looking Glass already?

Maybe he never would.

John certainly wouldn’t have blamed him. Even if he had started in this universe then John didn’t think he would want to come back here; not when he could stay in the better universe; the one where Bruce was kind and people actually cared sometimes and tried to make sick people better rather than just locking them away.

God, he wanted to go back home so badly. Or he wanted something to be better. Anything to be better.

John was vaguely aware of Bruce leading him back towards the entrance of the asylum. His hands had been cuffed though. The guards wouldn’t hear otherwise, and as much as Batman had stuck up for John he hadn’t even tried to fight them when it came to John staying handcuffed.

John was aware, too, of coming to a stop in front of the Batmobile, or what passed as the Batmobile in this stupid, awful world, when suddenly it all became too much.

He was sore and he was tired and he just wanted to go home, and…

“John?” Batman’s voice reached his ears.

John realized that he had come to a complete stop. Batman was waiting for him to enter the Batmobile, but suddenly that one simple thing seemed far too difficult for John to manage.

“Can I…” John said, floundering, his cuffed hands grasping uselessly in front of him. “I need…”

He waited for this version of Bruce to take the hint. His own would have, at the very least, held out his arms as this stage, or done something to let John know that a hug was welcome. This wasn’t his Bruce though. This Bruce didn’t even seem to know that what John was asking for was a hug.

“Whatever it is just do it,” Bruce sighed.

That was all John needed. He threw himself at the other man, his cuffed hands clutching uselessly at the stiff material of Batman’s armor as John buried his face in the other man’s shoulder. He breathed in the other man in deep, desperate gulps, but it wasn’t right. It wasn’t the same. Bruce’s arms should have been around him by now but they weren’t, and he smelled like Bruce but at the same time there was something still subtly wrong about the whole thing.

John pressed against Bruce as tightly as he could, trying not to be offended by how stiff and awkward Bruce seemed to be. He told himself that Bruce had been stiff and silent that first time too, in the fun house, when John had assumed that everything was going to go wrong, and he had hugged Bruce for the first time, arms wrapping around Bruce’s whole body as tightly as they possibly could, just as he wished he could do now.

Bruce had always hugged back after that first time though, and his hugs always made John feel so much better; so safe and secure.

It wasn’t working now though. None of it was working, and this place was so, so dark and broken and lonely, and John just wanted to be home, in Bruce’s arms, where everything made sense.

He realized that he was crying, tears being drawn painfully out of his eyes along with desperate, gasping sobs that he knew sounded absolutely pathetic.

“It’s… it’s not working,” he sobbed.

He felt Bruce’s arms move up, his hands settled lightly on John’s shoulders. He clearly had no idea what to do with them though, and it was suddenly too wrong for John to be okay with. The other man’s touch felt as though it burned, and John pushed him away violently, taking several steps back. It was like being in the arms of an imposter.

“I miss it all so much,” John sobbed. “I just want to go home.”

“You’ll be going home soon,” Bruce said. “We know how the Looking Glass works now, and we know its charging properly again. The Joker and your Bruce will activate it at any moment now.”

“You might be wrong Batman,” John said. “You know, if I was your Joker; if I’d come from here and ended up in the world I’m from, then I wouldn’t want to come back. Not ever.”

John had expected Batman to tell John that the idea was foolish; that the Joker would have wanted to come back to this terrible world, because he was just as terrible, or something like that. Or maybe Batman would be surprised. Maybe he hadn’t even considered that possibility just yet.

When John looked at Batman however he didn’t see even a hint of surprise; just the same persistent worry John had been feeling the entire time. Looking at Batman’s expression, John couldn’t help but think that Batman had been worried about the exact same thing.

The Joker was only putting up a token resistance at this stage, getting in a punch or two here and there, but he was no longer dodging Batman’s blows; just staring up at him as though Bruce had hung the stars in the sky.

Bruce had pinned the Joker to the ground and was about to land another blow to his face when he realized what was happening and forced himself to stop with one fist still raised above the Joker’s head and the other caught in the Joker’s jacket, holding him in place.

What the hell was he doing? Was this really what he was going to let the Joker reduce him to?

He looked down at the other man; broken and bloodied and still smiling beneath him, and felt disgusted, both at the Joker and at himself for letting the other man goad him into all of this.

Bruce forced himself to climb off the Joker and let out a cry of rage as he realized this was what the Joker had wanted from him the whole time. And he had won now, hadn’t he? He’d gotten exactly what he had wanted.

“Why,” Bruce said as he whirled around to glare at the Joker once more. “Why would you do this?”

The Joker let out a tired laugh as he pushed himself up to lean against the nearest patch of wall.

“Have you ever had a really bad day?” the Joker asked.

“What?” Bruce murmured, unsure of where the question had come from, and equally unsure as to where it was going to lead.

“Well surely, you must have,” the Joker said. “Something must have put you on the path to becoming the Bat. That part of the narrative can’t have changed too much at least.”

There had been more than one bad day for Bruce. The first one had been when he had watched his parents die in Crime Alley. If it wasn’t for that then he probably never would have become Batman in the first place.

These days though, there were other bad days; ones that Bruce would never be able to forget, no matter how hard he tried; days that had changed him and turned him into the man he now was, in whatever way.

The worst of them had been the last time he had found himself in Ace Chemicals. He and John had almost torn each other apart. Bruce’s heart had been broken, and he suspected John’s had been as well, and it had taken them both a long time to move past it. Bruce had lost Tiffany on that day as well, discovering that the young woman he had hoped might become a protégé was more cunning and cold-hearted than he would have ever anticipated, and then, just when he was at home and hoping that he might be able to rest, Alfred had announced his retirement.

It was a bad day that had simply refused to get any better, and when Bruce had finally been able to stop, he had collapsed into bed, far too tired and numb to even cry.

“More than one,” he confessed.

The Joker looked mildly disappointed.

“Yes, but there must have been one in particular that turned you into…” he paused, and gestured vaguely and tiredly at the entirety of Bruce, “… this.”

Bruce nodded. God, he was suddenly so tired. The Joker looked as though he wasn’t going to get up and try anything anytime soon, so Bruce trudged over to the Looking Glass and picked it up.

“I had one too,” the Joker said, whispering it, as though it were a confession. “Oh, don’t look so shocked Batsy. I wasn’t born a murderous clown, you know?”

Bruce had the feeling that there was more coming, and so, making sure that he had a very tight hold on the Looking Glass, he moved over to sit beside the Joker on the floor, leaning against the same patch of wall, and trying not to look too closely at all of the wounds he had inflicted upon the other man.

“This place,” the Joker muttered. “It was where it all happened you see. I know that much. I can remember the smell of it all; the burning of the acid as it seeped into my skin. And I remember you. You were there. Beautiful and monstrous and terrifying, and so much larger than anything else in this cold, miserable world. I know this place means something to you as well. Don’t even try to deny it Batsy. I could see the fear in your face. Something happened between you and your precious John here, didn’t it?”

“It’s none of your business,” Bruce said, but he couldn’t summon up any real venom behind the words. He was too damned tired.

“So anyway, there I am,” the Joker continued, as though Bruce hadn’t said anything at all, “standing in the middle of a chemical plant, and there you are, and then, whoops, there I go, over the edge of the catwalk and into a vat of something awful down below.”

Bruce tried not to cringe as he remembered how the Joker had threatened to give the Looking Glass a similar fate just a short while earlier.

“That was my terrible day,” the Joker said. “Sometimes I think I remember my life before, and then sometimes it’s all a blur. As far as I’m concerned these days Batsy, I didn’t exist before that very bad day; before you, and before the fall.”

Bruce tried to force himself not to see the similarities between the murderous asshole sitting next to him and John, and failed miserably.

“Who knows really,” the Joker said with a shrug. “I might even be making the whole thing up.”

Maybe he was. Maybe he was just saying all of this to get at Bruce. Bruce had a hard time convincing himself of that however; had a hard time convincing himself that there wasn’t at least a little bit of truth behind the Joker’s words. Why would the other man be saying any of this otherwise?

“You know something Bruce?” the Joker said, leaning back and closing his eyes, that damn smile on his face finally fading. The criminal was starting to look just as tired as Bruce himself felt.

“I’ve been thinking about things,” the Joker continued. “I have, you know? I had a lot of time to think about things while I waited for you. Tormenting Jimmy Gordon could only entertain me for so long considering I didn’t have time to really plan anything special.”

“Get to the point,” Bruce said. He had been hoping to sound at least a little threatening, but even to his own ears he just sounded exhausted.

“So I was thinking,” the Joker continued. “And I came to the conclusion that perhaps the biggest difference between myself and your poor, dear John, is that when your John had his bad day, he had you to help him through it. It’s true, isn’t it?”

Bruce didn’t know what to say. Maybe the Joker had a point. He didn’t want to think too hard on it though. Down that way lay madness; too many ‘what ifs’, and he knew he already blamed himself for this mess more than he perhaps should have. The last thing he needed was guilt over his actions of lack thereof in another universe.

“Why would you tell me any of this?” Bruce asked. “I’m not your Batman. I can’t…”

He couldn’t do anything about it. He couldn’t turn back the clock and change events so that the Joker hadn’t become what he now was. Even if he could, that was a different Batman; a different Bruce. He couldn’t help the Joker to heal any more than he could go back in time and stop the mental breakdown that had seen John recommitted to Arkham.

The Joker seemed to ponder the question for a moment before responding.

“Perhaps it’s because you mean absolutely nothing to me, and because I won’t ever see you again after today?” the Joker suggested. “Or perhaps it’s just because you and your John seem to have this whole thing worked out so much more neatly than Batsy and I ever did. Perhaps I was hoping for some pointers.”

Despite everything that had happened, for just a moment Bruce found himself actually feeling somewhat sorry for the Joker.

“You could have just asked,” Bruce said. “You didn’t have to do all of this.”

“No, I did,” the Joker said, and he sounded so sure of it. “I had to make sure, you see? I needed to know that you and my Batsy aren’t all that different. And you’re not, you know? You’re really not. This world is a little bit kinder, but you’re still you, or close enough to it that it doesn’t make any real difference.”

They sat in silence for a short while, neither of them willing to disturb whatever fragile peace had built up. Bruce’s body chose that moment to remind him that the Joker had managed to give him at least a half dozen small wounds in the course of their fight, and he grimaced, before turning his attention to the Joker once more.

“Come on,” he said, as he started to push himself up off the floor. “It’s time for us to head home.”

Bruce picked up the Looking Glass and contemplated it for a moment before turning his attention towards the Joker once more.

“Both of us,” he added.

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#batjokes #batman telltale #batman the enemy within #batman arkham #bruce wayne #john doe #my fic

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