#he should have swallowed a tracker

[weebatron9000]

I wonder who was like “check his TEETH” when they got Gi-hun.

In-ho:We should check his mouth.

Solider:Sir?.

In-ho:Not-Not for any weird reason I just-y’know with teeth? And-

Solider:…

-later, with the other boss guy I don’t care about-

Square mask:So…thinking about a career in dentistry?

In-ho:THERE WAS A BUG.

[limarkova]

Experimental Obsession

Pt 10

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Barbara watched through the security cameras as (Name) walked around the mall with Jason. Her mind would flash back randomly to when the girl was barely a year old. Back to when she could walk and dance. Dick would hold her in his lap while Barbara practiced. Each move was done to rounds of giggles and claps from the chubby little toddler.

Than it changed. Barbara couldn't dance anymore and Jason was suddenly gone. (Name) kept asking questions that no one could answer. Suddenly it became all to easy for Barbara to drown herself in work. "Where are the culprits? What's the status on the blood analysis? Are the suspects still in the building? Why did they commit this crime?" All easier to answer than "Where is Jay? What happen to your legs? Are you okay? Why is everyone so sad?"

Now watching (Name), Barbara felt frustrated at how hard the questions had become to answer. How in a family of paranoid individuals all obsessed with control did one member disappear for two years? Not just any member but the most vulnerable one. Barbara rubbed at her eyebrows before looking back at the cameras. Jason had left her with Roy, who had put a number in her new phone.

A phone. Barbara swallowed, fingers itching at the keys. They had used Bruce's card to purchase the phone. Putting it on Jason's plan, Barbara could find the number and remotely hack in. "It would just be one little tracker. Just in case."

She took a deep breath but paused. Everyone always got mad at Bruce when he invaded their privacy by doing these things. Could she really do that to (Name)? Barbara looked back at the camera footage to see Roy lead the girl into a store. "Do it Barbara."

Barbara spun around to see Bruce behind her. His arms were crossed watching the footage just like she was. Barbara placed a hand to her chest taking deep breaths, "You scared me." She looked back to the computer clicking on to the next video feed, "Are you sure we should do that? Don't growing teens need their privacy?"

"What if her kidnappers come back for her?" Bruce countered, "We've gotten lucky so far that nothing has happened."

"The evidence Jason found suggests they might not return for her." Barbara shrugged. Even she could admit she wasn't very convincing. The argument was too weak. Bruce leveled her with a serious look. Barbara sighed, "It's only for emergencies."

"Of course." Bruce nodded watching as Roy handed (Name) a box of hair. He blinked looking to Barbara, "What are they doing?"

"Shopping, apparently. With your credit card." Barbara sighed, "on the opposite side of town from where Jason told Dick."

"Get ready to go. We'll meet them down there." Bruce turned to leave the Belfry. Barbara looked back to the computer. (Name) was moving through the store with Roy walking close behind. Kori came into the frame holding a collar for the new cat. The two girls laughed petting the kitten while Roy went and paid for the hair dye.

She looked so normal and happy. Barbara found herself smiling as she watched the screen. She could still see that bright toddler who was amazed at her dancing again. However, the incident at the breakfast table flashed briefly. The fear in her eyes mixing with betrayal.

"Just one little bug on her phone to alert me...... us if something is wrong."

Ra's was in leagues headquarters, planning the training course that his new student would use. (Name) has natural talent that needed to be refined. His daughter had been right on that. However, getting the girl to join the league, especially with who her father was, would be a challenge. Thinking back to his encounter he paused.

She had been so much more like her in person than just through the camera. If felt like he was looking at her age for the first time in over 500 years. The best part of all, was that she had look at him like she knew him. She was clearly confused by that knowing but had known all the same.

"Father, I have made the necessary preparations." Ra's nodded at Talia's words. They had prepared a room for the girl, fully ready to bring her to join the league. Though her paused in that line of thinking. Assuming everything they had learned so far was true, the girl would not react well to another 'kidnapping'. It was also just bring the bats in fully enraged.

"Those won't be necessary for a while."

"What about our plans?" Talia looked at Ra's with disbelief. Her mind was running through a hundred different scenarios. Her cold calculating gaze give credit.

Ra's looked back to the training plan, "Would it not be better to have her come to the league willingly? She would be less likely to run and would return to us if the Wayne's steal her away."

"Slow and steady to win the race." It clicked in her head with a wicked smirk. Ra's mirrored her expression merely tilting his head to Talia. His daughter nodded to him, "I'll adjust my plans. Focus on making her trust us."

"You also have to turn her against the Waynes." Ra's made a nod in her training plans. "Make it so she can't trust them."

"Oh, that will be easy." Talia nodded, turning to leave the room. "We'll have our new heir to the league soon."

You and the Outlaws entered Jason's apartment. Laughter filling the air as everyone walked in. Churro was in the pet carrier, napping. Every time you looked at the carrier you smiled wider. Was getting a cat a smart decision in your plan for revenge? No, but you could leave the little guy there. The kitten had been abandoned just like you, with no willing to save them.

Two abandoned creatures finding one another. It made you smile once more as you eyed the carrier. You were pulled out of your reverie by Jason groaning, "What are you guys doing here?"

Looking from the cat carrier you joined Jason in groaning. The entire family stan you and Jason were crowd in the living room. Bruce sat in Jason old recliner, legs crossed, looking like the perfect image of a billionaire. Dick was sitting on Jason's couch with Damian and Tim next to him. He had an arm over the back of the couch, yet his chill posture was betrayed by his sharp judging eyes.

Tim was focused on his phone, reading something but he looked up to nod at you. Damian was intensely focused on you. His gaze was sharp and assessing as he began studying you. Cass, Steph, and Duke were sitting on the floor around the coffee table. There was half finished round of go fish. Duke gave you a bright smile but there was something off about it. Cass was looking at the carrier with piqued interest. Steph was looking at you like it was the first she had every truly seen you. It was her gaze that was the most unsettling.

Barbara was sitting in her wheelchair with her laptop in her lap. The charging cord for said laptop was plugged into the outlet not too far away. She was typing furiously, eyebrows scrunched up as she focused on something. Her expression was a mix of anger, disbelief, and confusion.

"Glad to see you too." Bruce answered half sarcastically. "How was red lobster?"

Jason shrugged, "Nothing looked appetizing. We ended up meeting the Outlaws at Burrito Bucket."

"Really?" Dick said a bit too causally, "and you didn't tell us this because?"

You rolled your eyes at the family's questions. Turning back to the cat carrier you opened the door and gently lifted Churro out into your arms. Everyone paused at the sight of the animal. Damian stood from the couch and began to walk towards the cat. He kneeled down next to you looking at the cat with wide eyes, "Whose cat is this?"

"Mine." You began to gently scratch under Churro's chin. Damian reached out and began to stroke Churro's head. The kitten mewled as they slowly woke up.

Bruce gave Jason a flat look, "I said no more animals."

"To Damian. You never said anything to (Name)." Jason smirked slightly. He gave Bruce a defiant look as you press a hand to your mouth to keep from laughing.

Your biological father gave Jason a weird look before looking at the Outlaws, "Can you guys give us a minute? This is a family matter."

The Outlaw looked between each other before awkwardly shuffling out. Barbara finally looked up from her laptop. Her face morphed into one of pity as she caught sight of you. She looked down at the laptop before glancing around the room, "I decode the hard drive Jason found in the facility."

"What facility?" The air in the room began to feel heavy. Your stomach began to bubble making you feel sick, worsen by the tighten in your throat.

Duke stepped forward, gently taking your hand. Jason sat down behind you. It made you feel trapped in place. Duke took a deep breath, but Jason beat him to it, "We found where you were held for the last two years and recovered a hard drive alongside some paperwork."

The world dropped out from under you.

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[ihrthoney]

you know what the time is, ak!jason thoughts

me when i don’t write fics so i make hcs

i feel like jason will sometimes lose himself, his sanity will be spread thin with planning to take down batman (he planned for like a year then the moments in the game happen in one night)

even though he tweaked your devices and had your full trust, he couldn’t trust you. not completely.

he had a tracker in your jewelry, when he was gone for days to train he could always pull up where you were. 99% of the time you were at the safe house, you respected him enough to stay home and wait for him. granted he got you whatever you wanted to keep busy. whatever you wanted.

you were so compliant that it started to make him doubt. what if you were just taking advantage of him? what if none of this was real? what if batman sent you and you’re working undercover?

thoughts filled his head, drowning him. he couldn’t think straight, it became hard to look you in the eyes, to let you come close to him.

whenever you asked to go out, he let you but always followed. it tugs at him at not trusting you because he wants to so badly, but he can’t get the doubts out of his mind.

he hates feeling obsessive. he hates the look on your face when he denies your request to go out for the day. your face fell before instantly softening and becoming understanding.

of course he wanted you to go out, but his mind was telling him you’d betray him. that you would try to leave him, he was abandoned too many times he can’t.. he can’t have you leave too.

one night, you woke up and found him watching you sleep. he was in bed next to you, sitting up against the headboard. given his build he looked intimidating in the dark room, but he was your jaybee.

without another word, you sat up against the headboard and locked your pinky with his.

nothing is said for a long time, the distant honks of cars and yelling is carried through the wind that filters through the room,

“i don’t ever want you to leave.”

“i’m not going anywhere, jay.”

“what if i ask you to never leave the safe house.”

“not even with you?”

your soft voice frustrates him, you should be mad, irritated, he’s not being rational!

“you could be living a normal life-“

“stop that, jason.”

“it’s true. you’re like a bird trapped in a cage, you should be out there! not here with me.”

“but i want to be here with you. this is my choice. you aren’t making me do anything, you know that right?”

he doesn’t want to look at you. a part of him wants the rage to consume him, to swallow him whole. jason wants you to run only so he could convince you to come back.

he needs you so badly, he wants you more than anything but his own mind can’t let him.

your free hand moves to slowly turn his head towards you, he lets you break himself out of his thoughts,

“i love you, jace. more than your mind could ever comprehend. anything you need me to do to make you feel safe, i’ll do it.”

“but it jeopardizes your comfortability.”

“who said that? i’m perfectly comfortable here.”

“in this cage?”

“in our safe house. we have traps, cameras, and weapons in case anything happens. i have a device i can click just once and you’ll be here in 5 minutes tops”

“3 minutes.”

his correction makes you laugh, “you bought me a whole fucking pc and made some of your workers play games with me. i can promise you, i don’t feel trapped baby.”

“this isn’t normal though, you should be allowed to go out whenever you want to.”

“and i can, you just have to be with me. it’s not like i want to go anywhere without you anyway.”

“we can’t go to the beach, or pools, or hotels, or-“

“we can if it’s another state.”

“but we can’t leave gotham.”

“then let’s build a pool.”

“you always have something to say, don’t you?”

“i’m always here to keep you in check, i always have been.”

“yeah, a pain in my ass you are.”

he wants you so bad omg. he’s still working through his trauma and he hates to burden you, but just the feeling of your hand in his is enough to pull him out of that dark place.

[its-time-to-write]

don’t be fooled, I’m not actually alive

make me breathe easy

It’s a simple enough call, if you’re being honest. 

And you are- being honest, that is. 

Honesty is why you’re ringing Jamie up right now with your cycle tracker pulled up on your computer screen. It’s a bit nerve-wracking, sure, but that’s just because he’s the first and only person you’re going to tell. 

Well, maybe not the only person. You’re going to have to tell Noah because there’s no way you’re doing this next part alone, and she always knows what to do when you don’t. 

But Jamie deserves to know first. So you press the call button and wait for him to pick up. 

You’re in your bedroom right now. Jamie’s probably in his and he should be asleep but instead he’s awake and waiting for you.

He picks up at the first ring.

“What’s wrong?” he asks right away, and the knot in your chest begins to loosen.

“Nothing,” you reply automatically. “I mean- not nothing. It’s not wrong, I just- how are you?”

You hear him laugh through the phone. “I’m good, babe. You’re not though, so what’s up?”

You look at the cycle tracker again. Two and a half months- no. Closer to three. 

You take a breath. “Remember Christmas?”

Jamie swallows another laugh. Of course he does. 

“Right. Stupid question,” you say. “I think- you’re the only person I’m telling, but- I might be pregnant.”

The words vomit from your mouth and you immediately want to take them back. You want to take them back even more when your phone lights up with Jamie’s request to FaceTime.

You press accept before you have a chance to chicken out and Jamie’s face fills your screen.

“You okay?” he asks first thing, and the knot in your chest unravels most of the way.

A year ago he would have been angry straight away. Probably would’ve yelled and told you it couldn’t be his, it was someone else’s, he can’t have a kid right now, he’s in the prime of his career.

But that was a year ago, and this is today.

And today, he just needs you to know it’s okay.

“You want me to come over?” he asks and you smile despite yourself. You want me to come over? he asks, as if it’s a quick drive instead of a flight to another continent.

You shake your head, unable to speak.

Jamie scratches the side of his face. This wasn’t the plan at all. Not really. It’s speeding things up by about a decade, that’s for sure, and hell he has no idea what to say but that’s never stopped him before so he opens his mouth and just starts talking.

“Right, yeah, fuck, okay. Right. I’m assuming you’ve got a plan all worked out, yeah?”

You nod and he grins a bit. Of course you do. You’ve got a plan for everything and he just likes to watch and follow along.

“Right,” he says for probably the billionth time. “Right. Let me guess: Slow down work to just be online and pass off all the twats to fuckin’ Samantha. Keep the ones you like for as long as fucking possible, then take holiday for at least a year. Knowing you, you’ll want to go back at some point so you’ll’ve been looking for help for a while. I can be there as early as…” he blows out a breath, “fucking… June? Finish post-season then make the switch to a club near you, there’s two, yeah? Mum and Simon won’t make the move I don’t think, but they’ll want to be here for a while so I can get them a house. She’ll be great, swear down, won’t fucking hover unless you want her to. And babe, don’t fucking tell Keeley. I know you love her to bits but she’s shit at keeping things private, like.”

You wish he weren’t so far away because you desperately want to kiss him.

“Jamie, you can’t move here,” you say. 

“The fuck I can,” he replies.

“You don’t want kids,” you remind him. “I’m telling you because it’s like, common fucking courtesy. And you’d be a big fish in a small pond here. You can’t- they can’t accommodate you. Your career would just kind of- well, you know.”

Jamie squints and looks away. You’re right, to a point. His whole life is in England, in Europe. 

“You can’t stop me,” he says finally and you roll your eyes.

“I can. And I will. I’ve stopped you from other things before.”

“Name one,” he challenges.

“House,” you say ticking it off on your fingers. “Car, extended vacation in Spain, Bottega Veneta, multiple concert tickets, fucking wire transfers, shall I go on?”

“No,” he says, and you’re both smiling. Strange. You’d thought this conversation would have been a lot colder. A lot angrier.

“I’ll visit soon,” he promises.

You wrinkle your nose. “Let’s get this confirmed first, okay? Don’t book any flights just yet.”

“I’ll visit anyway.”

You chuckle. He says it all the time, but never does. He can’t, really. Neither of you have the time for it- not till the summer. It isn’t unusual either. Half of his team are in long-term long-distance relationships. It’s just how it goes, apparently. 

But it’s nice to pretend, at least. And you’re grateful everyone thinks Jamie’s dating someone else, a model from Germany who he’s always spotted with, and who you may (or may not) have known for years and is always willing to make a public scene to allow you your privacy.

So the conversation devolves from there, into arguments about visits and who’s going to win the Prem and the Champion’s League. He stays on the phone until Isaac’s automated nightly threat comes through, and Jamie panics about the fact that he’s awake long past his prescribed bed time. You make a crack at that, he laughs, and you whisper, “I love you.” Jamie could pretend he didn’t hear it but he doesn’t, he holds the phone two millimeters from his face and whispers it back before you hang up on him.

And everything’s okay.

You don’t end up telling Noah. So she’s none the wiser to the four tests discarded in your bathroom trash, each negative. You vaguely chalk the missed periods up to stress which is far more than a likely explanation. And Jamie’s relieved but when you call to tell him there’s a faint flicker of disappointment lacing his words.

Still.

It’s not the right time, but you wonder if maybe someday there will be a right time. 

Maybe.

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet + ch 46

a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... all chapters

WARNINGS FOR THIS FIC: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, VIOLENCE, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

46. rude awakening

When finally you wake, you sense you are in a confined space in total darkness. Your whole body hurts, and your mouth is dry as a cotton ball. You feel as though you are swaying, and it takes you a while to figure out that it’s not just in your head. You are in something that is on the move. 

It’s hard to tell what, and so you concentrate on righting yourself. The surface you lay on is surprisingly soft. A bed? You try to push up, and a searing pain jets from your left hand up your arm. Is it broken? 

Fuck. 

Gingerly, you feel your appendage, probing the skin and bones. All seems well, until you get to your fingers. There is a big pad of bandaging on your hand, and it’s hard to make sense of what you’re feeling. Whimpering in panic, you frantically count your fingers. 

One. 

Two. 

Three. 

Your ring finger is gone–and your diamond with it. 

Somehow in the darkness, the room spins, and you let out a scream. 

No one comes, and with nothing better to do, you cry alone in the dark.

John. 

You pray that he’s alright. You know that so long as there’s breath left in his body, he will hunt for you. It’s only a matter of time…if you can survive long enough for him to find you.

That’s when you remember the necklace you’d been wearing under your shirt when you went out for your ride. The gold lavalier he’d gifted you for Christmas. With clumsy fingers you grope for the chain, and breathe a sigh of relief when you find it still hanging there. You feel for the little pearl dangling at the base of the narcissus pendant. 

John had given you a choice. He’d told you that day that there was a micro-tracker inside the faux pearl, and that if you were wearing the necklace, he would know where you were. But you don’t know how long it’s been, or if your captors will allow you to keep this bauble. 

With shaking fingers you bend the soft gold jump ring to remove the little pearl from the larger pendant, and swallow it down. 

Come find me, John. 

With a strangely detached resignation, you just know he’s going to kill them all.

 ***

You’re not sure how much time goes past, before they come for you. Two big, Italian-accented men with rough features and very fine suits open a door and flip on a light, nearly blinding you after so long in the pitch black. You don’t fight them, when they tell you to come with them. 

There is no point. 

All you have to do is bide your time. 

You follow them down a narrow hallway, and you realize that you are on a boat. An expensive one. You feel the steady sway of waves beneath your feet, a weird feeling that might go to your head if you don’t get some fresh air soon. 

You are finally able to get a look at your hand. You resemble a mummy, but the wrapping is very neatly done. A professional job even, perhaps, though it aches like a motherfucker. You wonder if you can talk someone into a pain pill. 

Probably wishful thinking, considering. 

Your hand looks strange, without that finger, but maybe because you are so used to looking at John’s, it does not bother you quite as much as it should. 

Or maybe, you’re in shock, and still feeling weird from your crash and whatever it was they injected in you.  

Or maybe…you’re just so dead certain of the retribution coming their way that you find this injury laughable, in comparison. 

How could anyone be so stupid? 

The answer to that question is answered for you as the nattily-dressed thugs lead you up a steep set of stairs, into a luxurious dining area enclosed by windows all around. 

Dante d’Antonio sits at the head of the high-polished walnut table, GQ-cover ready in a pressed white shirt unbuttoned at the throat, looking smug and sure of himself as a Roman emperor upon his throne. 

This fucking kid. 

“Buonasera, y/n.” 

“Signor.” 

One of the toughs pulls out a chair for you, but spoils the illusion of manners when he forcibly pushes you down into it. After your training with Mariko, you think of three ways in which you could have used that close contact to hurt him–but you don’t. 

You can tell through the darkened windows that you are out to sea, god knows where with no lights in the distance. You have to bide your time. 

You notice one of the bodyguards standing behind Dante sports a nice bandage across his nose. The look he pays you is less than kind, and you guess he must have been the one who took your helmet to the face. 

There is quite a feast set out upon the table. Gilded crystal, china, and silver, the whole nine yards. Though your stomach aches with hunger, you don’t dare touch any of the sundries. Dante just stares at you, waiting, you suppose, for tears or begging or a tirade of questions. But you keep your cool, waiting. You’ve learned from John that silence can be way more unsettling than idle threats.

He tries to mask his annoyance, but it’s written all over his fine features when he sits up in his chair, leaning towards you. “That was quite a little chase you gave my boys. How are you feeling?” He looks pointedly at your hand, obviously craving a reaction. 

You shrug, looking down at your missing digit. “A little lighter on the left side,” you muse, winning a sneer. 

“Forgive us. Usually we are not so barbaric, but we had to let your fiancé know that we’re serious. He’s a little thick headed, when it comes to these things.” 

He makes it all sound so reasonable. 

“I see.” You lift an eyebrow. “Serious about what, exactly?” 

Dante, however, goes off on his own little tangent. “You know, my mother never told me the identity of my true father? I think she wanted me to believe I came about like a little god, sprung from her skull like Athena, or maybe like the immacolata concezione. Ah, but my mother was no virgin. That I know.” 

You think it’s a little odd to be sitting here at the table speculating with this man about his dead mother’s sex life, but maybe it’s just your ingrained puritanical American ethos that you can never quite seem to totally shake.  

“I…imagine it was hard, not having a father around,” you offer.

He waves that off as though it was a stupid thing to say. 

“I lacked for nothing. I loved my uncle Santino very much. Something else I owe your John for.” 

You start to lose some of your cool as you try to reason with his circular logic. It gives you whiplash. 

“Your uncle literally caused your mother’s death. Isn’t that what you’re so mad about?”

He makes a so-so motion with his beautifully manicured hand, smirking at you. “You know, when I was a boy, the adults around me spoke of John Wick like he was a god of Death. My mother couldn’t keep the fondness from her voice, when his name was upon her lips. I think a part of me hoped that he was my real father in those days. So foolish.”  

You blink at this–for the life of you, you cannot tell where the fuck this kid is going with all this. It dawns on you that maybe he’s not just infuriatingly entitled and poisoned by hubris, but also maybe, a little mad. 

That does not bode well for you at all.  

“If he knew…I’m sure he would have tried to do right by you.” You think about how badly young Jardani wanted to be a father with his ballerina. Would the older, more calloused John Wick have felt the same?

Dante laughs like you’ve said something exceptionally stupid. “My mother was practically a queen. She would not have borne the seed of a dirty zingaro peasant like John Wick.” 

You sit back in your chair, shocked by the blistering remark, though maybe you shouldn’t be surprised. All thoughts of keeping your cool fly out the window as you fire back, “I hope that someday, someone’s going to wash out your filthy fucking mouth.” 

The bandaged bodyguard makes a threatening move to cross the room to you, but Dante holds up a hand, smirking. You suppose he won, finally getting a rise out of you. 

It didn’t make him any less of a piece of shit. 

Gritting your teeth, you look around. The boat is moving fast over the waves, but you can’t really see anything. You’ve got to hand it to this young man. He’s succeeded in talking you in circles. 

“So…what is it you want, exactly?” 

“I want John Wick dead, of course,” he sneers. “You are the bait. Is this not obvious to you?” 

You look at him across the table for a long beat. 

“What do you think you gain exactly, by taking such a risk?” 

The young man sighs, massaging his temples. “Dio mio. He soiled the honor of my family! Killing my mother was a grave insult. I cannot suffer him to live.” 

“Aren’t you…aware of what happened, when the High Table tried to kill him?” 

Again, he makes that dismissive gesture, and then he grins at you like a wolf. “Ah, but they did not have you. What will John Wick give, to see his lady love go free?”

Maybe you are a little thick. When the logic catches up with you, your blood turns to ice in your veins. 

The answer, you fear, is a lot.

Shrugging, you hold up your mutilated hand. “Don’t know. I’m kind of damaged goods now.”

Dante just smirks at you. “There are worse things we could have cut off.” 

Ugh. 

“Yeah. Thanks?” 

This actually wins you a laugh. “You know…the man who kills John Wick will be a legend amongst our kind? What better way for the new capo dei capi to prove his power? No one will dare challenge me.”

“What about…the bosses in charge now?” You think about the two older gentlemen who you’d met at the negotiations table at the Continental. One of whom, whose finger you broke. 

“Oh. I have plans for them. John Wick is going to kill them for me.” 

You blink, wondering how he managed to frame the capi for your disappearance. You have a feeling your missing finger comes into play somehow. 

Someone’s been reading too much Mario Puzo. 

You’re smart enough not to say that aloud too. 

This reminds you of the end of the Godfather, when Michael Corleoni kills everyone who ever insulted his family in one fell swoop to prove to everyone that he’s not fucking around. It was a great twist in the book. In real life, however…you think he’s bitten off more than he can chew.

If this brat intends to rise to the highest office of the Camorra…it will take more than killing a retired if legendary assassin to cement his powerbase. 

Your control regained, you say nothing in response, and he gets bored, waving you away. “Take her back,” he gripes. Again, the bodyguard with the nose gear moves towards you, but again Dante waves him off again. “Not you, Luca. You might get carried away, and I need her in good health.” He grins at you. “In case we need to cut something else off to make our point.”

The man in question glares down at you, and kudos where kudos is due: he succeeds in scaring the snot out of you. Gooseflesh raises down your arms; uneasiness hardens like a ball of ice in your belly. 

“He’s a little cross, after what you did to his nose. But that’s what he gets for underestimating John Wick’s woman, eh?”

You press your lips, smart enough not to bait either of them any more. 

“You can thank Luca for your finger. Doesn’t he do nice work?” You glare up at Luca, but keep silent, and Dante sniggers. “So, behave yourself, or I’ll let Luca have his way. Andare.” 

One of the bodyguards who brought you takes your shoulder, leading you back down below. You’re a little disappointed you don’t get to eat any of that beautiful food. 

You guess he notices the glint of gold around your neck–quick as a cutpurse, he snatches the fine chain and breaks it, paying you a nasty smile before pushing you back into your tiny little cabin and locking it behind you.

As sorry as you are to lose the cherished necklace, you are so glad you swallowed your tracker. You hope that doesn’t cause you a problem later…but it just might save your life. 

Cold, hungry, and you suppose a little seasick, you settle back into your little closet of a berth. You sit on your bed with your fucked up hand and think to yourself that when John descends on Dante and his cronies with all the fury of the apocalypse…you won’t feel sorry for them at all.

—

all chapters

*zingaro - gypsy, offensive usage *capo dei capi - boss of bosses, the head honcho, the biggest cheese

[impala-dreamer]

Rivers & Roads Away

A Tracker Story

Russell Shaw x Reader

2,345 Words

Warnings: NSFW, Romance and Leaving

For @jacklesversebingo 2024 “By the way, I’m not wearing any underwear”

If you haven't seen the show, this is still good. Just imagine a sexy drifter... lol

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

At first, he was joking. It was just something people said when things were becoming too intense, when chemicals were mixing and alcohol was flowing. When nerves were high and passion more so. But, after a few hours, she knew he was right: he would, in fact, be the death of her. Or at the very least, he’d haunt her dreams for the rest of her life.

She knew absolutely nothing about him beyond his name and the striking beauty of his green eyes. She didn’t know where he was from or where he was going; didn’t ask about his family, what he did for money, or whether there was a Mrs. Shaw. She assumed there wasn’t, as he didn’t seem the type to be bothered with anything so traditional as wedding vows or staying in one place for too long.

Knowing so little about the man in her bed wasn't unusual for her. She’d had plenty of casual affairs that were little more than drunken tangos and awkward goodbyes. But this was different. This wasn’t just a roll in the hay and a number jotted down on a bar napkin. He was different. She felt different with him.

Four days ago, she’d caught his eye while pushing through an unusually dense Thursday night bar crowd. Sweating from the heat, mascara smudged, and hair a mess, she fought her way to the counter and waved at the bartender, who ignored her.

“He’s an idiot,” Russell commented behind his beer. The long neck amber bottle was perched on the edge of his plump bottom lip and he spoke with a road-weary voice.

Y/N turned to see him take a sip and stared a moment too long as he tipped his head back for a deep swallow. His hair was long, skirting the collar of his worn canvas jacket, his throat was covered in a slowly graying dark beard, and his lashes were as long as she’d ever seen. It was hard to pry her eyes away but she managed to contain herself.

“Excuse me?”

He set the beer down and hunched over a bit as he settled back into place. He didn’t look over at her but said again, “He’s an idiot.”

Intrigued, Y/N moved a bit closer. “Oh? Why’s that?”

Green eyes turned to her and she swore they were flecked with gold.

“Only an idiot would ignore a gorgeous woman like you.”

Trying to hide her blushing smile was harder than usual as his eyes traipsed down her body. She bit down into her bottom lip and tried to play it cool.

“Well now I know you’re not from around here,” she said, forcing herself to turn away from his gaze and attempt to flag down the bartender once more.

“Why’s that?”

She laughed and looked back at him over her shoulder. “No townie has made me blush in forever.”

Russell nodded and let out a short laugh. “Shame,” he teased, lifting the bottle to his lips. “They’re missin’ out on quite a sight.”

Ignored again by the barkeep, Y/N gave up and turned to the gorgeous stranger. She rested her elbow on the sticky bartop and leaned against the old wood, her hip popped and curves on display should he desire a peek. Of course, he did, and she felt every flicker of his eyes as they savored her offering.

“You wanna keep hitting on me or you gonna buy me a drink already?” she asked, puckering her painted lips just enough to give him dangerous ideas.

Russel licked his lip and grinned. “Can’t I do both?”

The wet sheen on his mouth was captivating.

“I don’t know,” she sighed, “I still don’t have a drink…”

He held her gaze for a moment, digging deep into her eyes and holding her hostage. When his mouth tweaked in a sly half-smile, she knew she was taking him home.

Russell stood up and snapped twice toward the bartender who, amazingly, came running.

“Another beer for me,” he said, “and…”

Y/N ignored the bartender and kept her focus on Russell. “Whiskey, Neat.”

He smiled and nodded in approval. “Woman after my own heart.”

She shrugged. “I’m not fooling around.”

He sucked in a quick breath as if she’d knocked him off balance. “And a whiskey for the lady.”

“Thanks.”

“Of course…”

They drank a toast to strangers and Y/N downed her whiskey in a seasoned swallow.

Impressed, Russell leaned close. “Wow. You really aren’t fooling around are you?”

Y/N met him halfway, close enough to smell the beer on his breath and the Old Spice on his throat. “Never.”

He pursed his lips and tiny dimples popped above his mouth, nearly melting her right there.

“Oh, and by the way,” she whispered, “I’m not wearing any underwear.”

Russell smirked. “That’s funny. Neither am I.”

The weekend flew by too quickly.

Not an inch of her small apartment was left unbaptized by their lovemaking. They had all but destroyed her bedroom, christened the sofa, and used up all the hot water more than once. Much to her dismay, Y/N also found out that despite her pornographic fantasies, the kitchen counter was no place to fuck.

That bruise would stick around longer than he would.

Sunday night found Y/N catching her breath by the single bedroom window, looking out on the rainy street with a contented smile. She hadn’t felt so good in forever. Russell felt strangely safe for being a stranger, and she’d loved every second in his arms. She sighed softly and traced a raindrop with her finger, following its path down the glass to the paint-chipped sill.

“You ever race them?”

She smiled wider. “Race them?”

Fresh from a shower, Russell perched on the edge of the messy bed and dragged his boots from beneath.

“My brother and I used to do that as kids,” he said with a little laugh. “He picked one drop, I picked another, and… well, I always won.”

Y/N turned away from the rain and leaned against the window frame, watching as he tugged on his left boot. “I’m sure you did.”

Damp hair fell into his eyes as he bent to lace his shoe and Y/N felt a strong desire to tug it through her fingers again. While the fantasy was perfect, reality was hitting her hard.

“You going somewhere?” she asked, pushing off of the wall to close some of the space between them.

Without looking up, Russell laced the other boot with a practiced blur of long fingers. “Got some shit to take care of.”

She knew it wasn’t going to last forever, that their tryst was just that: a passing moment in time. And yet, it stung a little bit to hear that he was leaving so soon.

Trying to sound unphased and flirtatious, she sucked her teeth and moved in closer. “You coming back?”

Russell took a deep breath and let it out in a full-body sigh. His broad shoulders fell and his chest sank. Sitting up, he rubbed his palms down over his jeans and gave her a half smile. “Will you hate me if I say I don’t know?”

Y/N swallowed hard and took a final step. Their legs touched and she pushed her knee between his. The motion was far from unwanted and Russell’s hands were drawn to her, slowly sliding up her naked thigh.

“Yes,” she replied, staring down at him with a hunger he’d grown to love. “Forever.”

As his hand moved to her waist, she spread her legs and sank down, straddling his left thigh. The thick muscle tensed beneath her and she rocked her hips gently. Russell’s eyes glazed over as he stared at her, feeling her pussy nearly dripping through his jeans.

It was going to be hard to leave, but the road was calling him. The clock was ticking.

She kissed him gently. A soft, open-mouthed kiss that shut his eyes and drew his hands higher, tugged his arms around her. She was so warm, so fucking soft and delicious he was losing himself again.

He hadn’t meant to stay all weekend, but she was too tempting. It was too comfortable to be with her, wasting away the days in bed and toying with each other’s pleasure. She was incredible.

“Will you think of me every night for the rest of your life?” she whispered, pushing a delicate hand through his long hair. She pulled just enough to raise his chin and send a tingle down his spine.

He sucked in a quick breath and nodded. “Yes,” he confessed, echoing her truthfully. “Forever.”

Her kiss deepened and he gave in. A few more hours wouldn’t hurt.

Y/N gasped when he jerked his knee upwards, pushing his thigh against her pussy. She bit down on his plump bottom lip, tugging at it as she pulled back.

“Don’t go yet,” she breathed, rolling her body against him. Her breasts smashed into his chest and her softness drove him wild.

Russell’s strong arms curled around her; his right hand braced the back of her head. He licked into her mouth and savored the sweet moan she let loose.

“Not yet,” he agreed, leaving the rivers and roads to await his return.

She smiled against his lips and shifted in his lap, tossing her leg over his other leg to ride him properly. He hissed at the pressure she was encouraging as his cock grew against the hard zipper. She rubbed her panty-covered sex against the bulge and his fingers tightened in her hair; his blunt nails dug into her hip.

“Want you one more time,” he growled, firm hands roaming her body for the final time, mapping her curves in his mind.

“Just once more,” she teased as she leaned back and shoved at his chest, knocking him over.

He sank into the blankets and she attacked, climbing over him and kissing her way across his freckled face. She sucked on his ear and he palmed her tits. She bit down gently on his throat and he pushed a hand between her legs. He tapped her pulsing clit with his middle finger and she sat up, damn near ready to explode. In a fluid motion, she pulled her shirt away and he stared up in awe. She ran her hands down her chest, plucked at her nipples, chewed her lip as she held his gaze.

It was enough to shatter him.

Russell shot up suddenly and held her tight as he flipped over, pinning her to the bed. She laughed at the rush of fear and arousal shooting through her system. Before she could settle, he was there, forcing his hot tongue between her lips, distracting her while he tugged his jeans open and kicked them down. They hung from his ankles, stuck around his tall boots.

Y/N tugged at his hair again, pulled hard enough to earn a deep-throated moan that vibrated into her. Aching, she spread her legs around him and looked up into his emerald eyes, wanting the moment to last forever and needing him to move all the same. She let out a breath that he stole with a kiss, closed her eyes as his long lashes brushed against her cheek, smiled as his hair swept over her forehead. He was beautiful, his touch was divine, and he was leaving too soon.

They both held their breath as he tore aside her thin panties, soaking in the delicious anticipation. He nudged the tip of his cock against her wet lips and every drop of blood in his body surged down to fill him up. The ache was instant and incredible. He rocked his hips gently and pushed inside only an inch, watching the minute changes that played across her face. She was gorgeous, his damned-near perfect match, and he didn’t want to leave.

“Stop teasing me,” she whispered, craning her neck to chase his lips.

Grinning, he let her have a quick taste before pushing in fully. Her jaw dropped in a silent, pleasured moan and he licked at her tongue, pulling her back for a moment as he settled into her warmth.

“You’re amazing,” he said, shifting to lock his arms aside her head on the bed. “So fucking good.”

Her pussy tightened around him, swallowing him just as tightly and as perfectly as her mouth had just hours before. His eyes closed and he set a pace, slowly driving their pleasure higher. He wanted to make it last, wanted to make her whimper one more time.

He loved the sound she made just before the filthy noises broke free, before she cursed and clawed at his shoulders. It was a clipped, hard whine in the back of her throat, a frustrated grunt that meant she was holding everything back, afraid to be anything but ladylike and modest.

It drove him wild when she let go.

Y/N clung to his big arms, adoring the flex of his biceps and the look of concentration on his handsome face. The lines by his eyes deepened; his lips pursed beneath his beard. She held back, waiting for the deep snap of his hips that told her he was lost in the feeling, in her.

She loved the glazed look in his eyes when he finally sank into it.

It was amazing how they’d only known each other for a short while and yet they knew every inch, every dip and freckle, every sensitive spot.

It was so easy between them and yet the goodbye was so hard.

She held onto him a little too long.

He kissed her a little too hard.

She made him promise to call if he ever made his way back to town.

He swore she was the best weekend of his life.

The road was calling and Russell answered, watching in the rearview until her image was a faded shape he’d never forget.

Taillights disappeared and Y/N knew she’d never see him again except in her dreams.

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[fancyfeathers]

Au where Damian cuts robin (nightengale) darling only for him to find out that (unknown to her) she is a demigod daughter of nyx (is she still Harvey's idk), who is furious cause that's her kid how dare you! (The myths say she's a real protective mother) Luckily for him nyx lost alot of power since the fall of her pantheon, enough for him to make it out alive.

Now does he give up like a sane rational person or does his resolve strengthen.

(Also does he tell his family his ass got beat by a long thought to be dead goddess)

Yandere!Batboys as Villains with Robin!Darlings AU Masterlist

Ya so while I can’t answer this ask as originally intended because of my rules, I can put a spin on this because I never did say who was her mother.

Say let’s make her mother a vigilante who based her persona off of Nyx. Having kept it a secret in her marriage to Harvey and the two having ending their marriage due to him becoming Two Face, not because she hated him. Then she trusted Bruce to look after her daughters while she continued to work as a vigilante, following a lead to another country.

Her oldest daughter, Jason’s darling knows what their mom is doing but for now Damian’s darling does not know, she was a good mom and she doesn’t want her job to ruin her youngest daughter’s perspective of her. So Damian’s darling thinks she is on a really long business trip because the company her works for needed someone to deal with trade with another company in a different country, that was all a lie, there was no company, just criminals and the vigilante targeting them.

Damian’s darling calls her mom every night after patrol at the same time, so when Bruce calls her nearly an hour later she knows something is wrong. Then when Bruce tells her what happened, a member of the League of Assassins targeted her daughter and carved something into her back, oh she is livid.

She decides to make a quick pit stop in her mission, deciding to pay a visit to a small rich town in Egypt where it appears to be somewhat of a travel destination but it hides a base for the League of Assassins. She goes under the guise of a tourist, walking the streets of the town to scope things out, and then she sees a young man who perfectly matches the description she was given. She accidentally bumps into Damian before continuing on, but she has been a vigilante longer than he’s been alive, she knows how to place a tracker without the best assassin noticing.

So then later that night she goes out in her gear, and when she finds him Damian almost looks innocent, perfectly calm and sitting in a garden, reading during the warm desert night. Even if he could swallow his pride and call for help none will come when she is throwing him to the ground, she already knocked out every single guard.

She will pin him to the ground, strangling him while screaming at him about what he has done, so it’s only fair… an eye for an eye.

While she has no idea he is Bruce’s son, she knows he hates the Batman, so she carves that symbol into his back before knocking him out cold.

Damian doesn’t even have to tell his own mother what will happen, she will drag his body to wherever Talia is and throw his bleeding and bruised body at her feet. Now I imagine Talia and her do not get along already, probably having bumped heads before, but even Talia has to acknowledge the truth when she is told…

“An eye for an eye… your son hurt my daughter so I did it in turn. He should not have done something of he couldn’t take it himself.”

Damian is enraged when he wakes up and hears Talia let her get away but he is quickly reminded he has other problems to deal with like having to tell his grandfather of his failure.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Rolling in the Deep

Prequel to Make You Feel My Love 

Warnings: mentions of abuse, violence, blood, miscarriage. Warnings may not be exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

Summary: You try to get out.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Note: Please leave any thoughts or comments or reblogs or anything you like!

You take the suitcase out of the closet. Already packed, waiting, ready to go at just the right time. That moment has come. Bucky’s gone. A mission out of the country.

It’s not just the bag. You have a plan. You’ll leave your phone there. When you get downtown, you’ll find a public bathroom to do a sweep of your clothing for any other trackers. You have cross-country tickets. You don’t need a passport for those, it will be harder for him to find you.

You’ll disembark at a midway point and do something about your hair. A change that obscures your trail. From there, you’ll take a bus and buy a train ticket at the first major city. You just need to lose yourself in the shuffle of life outside your tiny world.

You check the pouch strapped around your stomach. Cash. Enough to get you far away. You’ll figure it out from there. You lift the bag and near the door. You hold your breath. The house is ominously silent. The only witness to your flight.

You look out into the hall. You take a breath and carry the compact luggage cautiously along, steps softened by the long runner rug. Your hand goes to your stomach. It’ll be okay. You’re almost there. You just need to get outside.

As you near the top of the staircase, a shadow appears in the doorway closest to you. You take a step back, stunned by the unexpected figure. No. No. It can’t be. You know you can’t lie, he can hear your heartbeat.

“Steve,” you gasp and drop the bag.

You stand in a deadlock, you caught and him knowing. You swallow and repeat his name again. He tuts and puts his hand on the door frame.

“Why?” He utters. You should ask the same. Bucky’s little lap dog, his left hand, another enabler.

“You know why…” you say crisply.

He rolls his eyes and steps into the hall. You flinch as he grabs your arm. You wriggle and try to rip yourself away. You know it’s futile but your pride makes you fight.

“You’re going to let him hurt me. Again,” you sneer as he marches you backward.

He doesn’t respond as he nearly bowls you over. He gives a small shove so you stumble back into the bedroom. You catch your balance and stare at him. You knew before you tried it wouldn’t work. You don’t even know why you put so much effort in.

“You ask for it,” Steve grabs the door and snaps it shut.

You rush forward and hit the wood. You holler through it as you bring your fist against it, over and over, “Steve. You’re not like him. You can let me go. You can save me. Aren’t you supposed to save people… Captain?”

His footfalls pause not far from the other side. A sigh puffs loudly and he clears his throat. He continues on, the stairs groaning beneath his descent. You back up and cradle your stomach, the bump hidden by the loose fabric. I’m sorry, you look down at your shirt, I wanted better for you.

💔

Dread. That emotion has coloured much of your relationship with Bucky. 

At first, that dread that this man with the dreamy blue eyes and chiseled jaw wouldn’t like you.

Dread again when you sat on the cusp of your wedding day, stressing about everything that could go wrong.

And when it all went wrong and it was the fear of his temper, of his fist. Of how you might unwittingly bring out the worst of him. That part of himself you didn’t see until the last day of your honeymoon.

Now you wallow in it. You sit against the door, waiting. This is it. You know this doesn’t end well for you. You knew that when you packed the suitcase.

The dread twists in your chest, threatening to choke you as you hear movement below. The front door and the exchange of low voices. Silence, and then the unmistakable, discernible trad of his step. You know it anywhere, you’ve learned to listen for it, to recognise it.

You will not face this on your knees. You stand and face the door. You try to shake out your fear but that you cannot escape as much as you could not get away from this man. You take a deep breath as his slow progress creaks down the hallway, his weight shifting down the floorboards.

You stare at the handle as it turns, the lock sliding back. No one would ever know it but if they did, they would indeed think it rather odd that the lock is on the outside. They might even guess why.

You’re speechless and Bucky looks much the same. You see the anger pulsing in his forehead as his glare scalds you. As it all boils under the surface ready to bubble over. He is just deciding how he’ll let it come out. His lip twitches and his hand balls to a fist. Words or force, it doesn’t matter.

“Why can’t you just let me go?” You whisper.

His blue eyes flare and he takes a step forward. You retreat on your heels and he stops short. He sways as a shadow of hurt washes over his features.

“Why don’t you love me?” He grits.

You shake your head and cross your arms, “that’s the problems, Bucky, I do love you.”

He sighs, a deep exhale akin to a growl. His gaze falls and wanders over to the dresser. You wince as he stomps towards it and rips open the top drawer. It’s empty. He slams it and you cower as he faces you again.

“It’s true,” he sneers, “you were going to leave.”

You hang your head. Does he not see that you have no other option? That he has left you with no other choice. It is your life or no life at all. Whether you stayed or not, it would end like that.

“You–” he snarls and you cry out as he seizes the back of your neck.

He moves fast, faster than you can. You untangle your arms and reach back to claw at his forearm. He marches you down the hall as your feet bounce off the floor clumsily. You whine as his fingers curl into the tendons of your neck.

“Bucky, please, you’re hurting me–”

“You hurt me!” He hollers as he urges you to the top of the stairs.

“I… I never wanted to–”

“That’s all you’ve ever done,” he barks into your hair, sending hot breaths across your scalp. “You want to leave me? After all I did for you? After I loved you?”

“Bucky, I was scared–”

“Of what? I’ve protected you!”

“You!” Your squeeze his wrist as his metal fingers threaten to crush down to your spine, “I am terrified of you–”

“So you want to leave? You don’t want to talk?” He hisses as he pushes his head next to yours.

You look down the stairs as he hovers you on the top step. Your toes hang over the edge. You keep one hand on his forearm, the other clinging to the post beside you.

“I tried–”

“You want to go,” he snaps, swallowing loudly, “then… go.”

The last words are a gravelly whisper. He shoves you, throwing you off the step as you fall without obstacle. Your arms flail as he lets you go, as you try to catch yourself on anything. There is only air and then the harsh devastating crack of the first stair.

Your knees hit first and you shield your head against your uncontrollable plummet. Your chest hits next and you go ass over head, twisting around to bounce on your side, rolling and bumping over each step. Your foot flies out, hitting the banister as you hit the bottom and catches between the columns, the wood wrench your leg in the socket.

You stop, one leg bent unnaturally up as your foot stays hooked in the railing. Your breaths rattle as you lay strewn and broken. Agony coils around every part of you, burning most hotly at the base of your spine.

Bucky descends, a step at a time, each echoing ominously over you as you gulp and gasp for air. He looms over you and clicks his tongue as he bends to look you in the face.

“You fell, baby,” he shakes his head, “it’s a goddamn tragedy.”

You feel a churning in your pelvis, a hot pain in your stomach that makes you want to puke. You groan, vision speckling as you struggle just to lift a single finger. You close your eyes and shudder.

“Bucky…” you rest your hand over your stomach, “...the baby.”

[littlemourningstarr]

Not the Worst Night

Tim gets stuck with some sort of toxin derived from Ivy's old work, but at least Jason is there to whisk him away.

Read below or on AO3!

Pairing: Tim Drake x Jason Todd

Tags: Frottage, established relationship, genderfluid Tim, drugging, the JayTim is consensual

Tim felt his blood broiling, inside his body, his very veins, as he pulled the needle from his arm, chucking it down onto the ground. The tip was stained with his blood, the vial still containg a trace of a liquid in a dark rose color- pinker than blood, a romantic's ideal color. He shuddered, wanted to crush it under his boot heel, but knew he couldn't. He'd need to take it back to the cave, have it analyzed, with his blood.

His stomach flipped, and for a moment nausea overtook him. He swallowed as spit pooled in his mouth, inhaling slowly through his nose. He needed to call this in- needed to get the traffickers he'd stopped and left restrained into GCPD custody- not that it would probably do much good. But he had to try.

And he needed Bruce to know they'd gotten their hands on something that most definitely once belonged to Ivy. She'd be royally pissed, that was for sure. Hells, maybe he should just call her-

"You responsible for the mess of bodies back there?" Tim spun quickly, body tense- but it was just Jason, his voice mechanical from his helmet. He was still straddling his bike- how the fuck hadn't Tim heard it?

He realized he could barely hear anything except his pulse straining in his head, pounding in his ears. His nausea had shifted to a tightness in his muscles, his belly cramping almost painfully, and he could feel heat and blood rushing down to his groin. Oh, no.

He must have looked pale- or flushed, Tim really didn't know- because Jason climbed off his bike, pulled his helmet off his head. His curls were tussled, wild, gorgeous, begging for Tim to tangle his fingers in them, to pull and yank until Jason was gasping, writhing-

Oh bloody fucking hells.

"You alright?"

Tim scrubbed his hands up over his face, trying to suck in a breath. He swore he was about to begin trembling, the desire inside him blooming like spring, heady like a fucking animal rut. "No," he admitted, and the moment he let his hands fall from his face Jason was there, reaching up to cup his face, tilting it, trying to examine it in the streetlamp light.

"Babygirl, talk to me," he whispered, and Tim melted, did tremble. This was still… new, with Jason. He hadn't quite gotten used to hearing the endearment, from him- the adoration, in his voice. He had never expected this. He hadn't expected there to be room in Jason's heart or life for the childhood crush Tim had been harboring for far too many years.

Tim swallowed thickly. "Traffickers had a case of drugs," he admitted, "tracker on the one that got away with it. His location should ping to the system- but they stuck me with something." He glanced down, and Jason reluctantly let go of him, crouched down and picked up the needle, examining it. "It feels like Ivy's work used to."

"Ivy- oh." Jason glanced up, and Tim turned his head away, clenched his hands into fists. He could keep himself together. It was what he did. Anyone else could fall apart, but not Tim Drake.

Jason straightened up, took the time to carefully tuck the needle away in a compartment on his belt, before he was holding out a hand.

"Give me your comm."

Tim reached for his ear, pulling the small bud out. Jason popped it into his own ear, pressed it. "Hello, hello who's up listening tonight?"

"What- Jason?" Tim could just hear Barbara's voice, she was speaking so loudly- shocked. "This is Tim's line!"

"Yup. I'm kidnapping him for a bit- very, very important work. Could you have someone follow up a tracker he set live on the system?" Tim couldn't hear Barbara respond now- she must have contained herself. He swayed a little- considered maybe he'd just pass out instead of falling into the fucking needful pile of a human he knew the drug wanted him to. At least he'd get an hour of sleep, then.

The team should just consider that a win.

"Yeah, and send someone to clean up a trafficking mess." Jason rattled off an address, before he was simply popping the comm out of his ear, offering it back to Tim. "Keep it off." Tim took it and simply stuffed the earpiece into a pocket of his belt, as Jason headed back for his bike. He grabbed his helmet, hopped on, and pulled it securely over his head, before revving the bike to life. "Now, c'mere," he said, voice mechanical again, oddly… alluring…

Tim hurried over to the bike, hopped on behind Jason and locked his arms around his solid waist. The bike took off into the streets, dancing between late night travelers on the road.

Tim pressed his cheek to Jason's back, between his shoulder blades, inhaled the sharp scent of gunpowder and leather. His cock was straining in his suit uncomfortably, as his hands splayed on Jason's belly. One slipped to his belt, gripped it tightly- and over the sound of the bike, Tim heard Jason yell, "Just a couple minutes babygirl, then I'll take care of you."

Tim believed him.

He managed to keep himself in check, when Jason stopped the bike and climbed off, offering an arm to steady Tim. The younger took it, dug his gloved fingernails into his jacket, as sweat pooled at the base of his spine uncomfortably. His heart was racing, his cheeks flushed, hot, as his cock was leaking now, begging for attention. Gods if Jason just looked at him right, he might come.

Maybe that would just fix this whole mess.

Jason got him up to his safe house- a well lived in one- but the moment the window was shut, he was ripping his helmet off, dropping it to the floor with a clatter so loud Tim nearly jumped out of his skin. Jason reached for him, pulled him close, ripping the mask from Tim's face and tossing it to the ground as well.

"Tell me what you need," he whispered, voice heavy, pulling from his chest. Tim bared his teeth, felt feral, could barely focus on anything except the heat radiating off Jason's body. He surged up, pressed his mouth in a sloppy, uncoordinated kiss to Jason's as he grasped at the man's leather jacket. Jason grunted, as Tim's teeth nearly knocked his in the younger's excitement.

Tim was more coordinated than this. He was more controlled than this. But he couldn't bring himself to remind himself of that. All he wanted was to crawl inside Jason's skin and meat and bones.

Jason leaned back against the closed window, hands going for Tim's hips and jerking him close. He slipped a thigh between Tim's, and Tim rutted against it, whining into the kiss as his cock pressed inside his suit, getting the faintest ghost of friction. "Fuck," he breathed, as Jason's hands pushed his hips back, only to yank them forward, guiding him to grind against him.

"Yeah?" Jason asked, color blooming on his own tanned cheeks. "We can do that if you want."

Tim could have laughed. Instead he kissed Jason again, got his lower lip between his teeth and pinched. Jason mewled, the most un-Jason-like sound- so surprising that the first time he'd made it, one night with Tim, Tim had stopped dead in what he was doing.

Now it only drove him forward as he continued to ride Jason's thigh. His lover's hands left his hips, reached up for his hair and tangled the inky, lengthy locks around his fingers. "Harder," Jason mumbled into the kiss, and Tim pressed harder to the meat of his thigh, dug his teeth into his lip until he tasted blood.

Jason didn't seem to mind. He pulled at Tim's hair, jerked him from his mouth and forced his head back. He leaned in, nuzzled his neck, kissed at his jawline- couldn't get to much else with his damn suit in place. Tim cursed it as he shuddered, his balls tight and aching, his body wanting release.

A full body shudder wracked him, as Jason breathed out "yes, c'mon babygirl," and Tim came so suddenly it knocked the wind from him. He tugged at Jason's jacket, sagged against his thigh, let his predecessor support his weight as he panted, his cock pulsing cum into his underwear, his suit forcing it tight to his skin.

Jason released his hair a moment later, and before Tim could even catch his breath he was hoisting him up, tossing him over his shoulder, a hand cupping Tim's supple ass. Tim gave a surprised squeak, held onto the back of Jason's jacket and grimaced as his cum was already cooling, against his skin.

"Let's get you stripped and comfortable before you dive back into delirium." Jason was heading directly for his bedroom, and Tim couldn't argue. He'd very much like to be stripped of this fucking suit and his now sticky underwear- to be laid out and worshiped on Jason's bed.

The man was very good at worshiping, Tim had learned.

And even if this had twisted a thorn deep into the gut of his night, Tim figured there were plenty of worse outcomes. A night with Jason, he would readily admit, was always welcome.

[bluejaysandblackbats]

Keepsafes

Fandom: Batman, DC Comics

Summary: AU where Martha and Thomas survive, and they adopt the batkids.

Chapters: 47/?

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Thomas Wayne, Martha Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Harvey Dent, Dick Grayson, Cassandra Cain, David Cain, Talia al Ghul, Damian Wayne, Jason Todd, Tim Drake

Relationships: Thomas Wayne/Martha Wayne/Alfred Pennyworth, BruHarvey, BruTalia

Additional Tags: Canon Divergent AU, Hurt/Comfort, Bruce Wayne is Not Batman, Angst, Alfred Pennyworth Knows All, Bruce Wayne Only Has One Child, Bruce Wayne is Not An Only Child, Bi Bruce Wayne

Chapter Forty-Seven: Want

Bruce stood at the table, waiting for his hosts to sit. Talia’s father whispered something to her, and Talia nodded, smiling at Bruce as she replied in kind. Talia gestured with an open palm toward the food. “You should eat. I’m sure you were in for a fright earlier,” Talia whispered, “My father’s name is Ra’s. I don’t think I told you that before.” 

“What’s going to happen to me?” Bruce asked before taking a bite. 

Talia looked at her father. “No harm will come to you. You have my word… In fact, I want to explain something to you and once I explain, I would like to hear your decision,” Ra’s replied, “But first… We should enjoy our meal.” 

Bruce nodded. “Thank you for your hospitality… But, I have another question that simply cannot wait,” Bruce stated, “Were you the ones who insisted I be hunted for days on end? What did I do?” 

Talia opened her mouth to speak, but she quickly bowed her head and continued to eat. “I did. You were not supposed to be here, but I was impressed with how long you endured and avoided capture. These are some of my best fighters and trackers—. Bruce, what is your goal?” Ra’s asked. 

“To protect my parents at all costs,” Bruce answered, without hesitation. Talia looked up and smiled. 

**

Harvey lay on the floor behind his desk at work, and Gilda buttoned her blouse. “Gilda, I can’t believe we did that,” Harvey whispered as he wriggled back into his trousers. Gilda grinned and pulled her brush out of her purse. 

“Can I be honest?” Gilda asked as she fanned herself. Harvey nodded. “I had a lot of fun.”

“You’re gonna give me a heart condition,” Harvey whispered as he buttoned his shirt. He sat up and started tucking his shirt in his pants, leaning forward to let Gilda brush his hair back into place. His phone rang, and he reached up, quickly answering. “Hello?” 

“Harvey, are you in your office?” the current DA asked. 

“Yes. I was having lunch with my fiancée. Do you need some paperwork?” Harvey asked as he playfully brushed Gilda’s lip with his thumb. 

“Actually, no. My wife got something for you and Gilda to celebrate your engagement, and I was wondering if I could bring it to you before I forget,” he answered. Harvey looked at Gilda as she took his thumb into her mouth, and he swallowed hard. 

“Yeah. Sure. That’s so kind of you both. We’ll be here,” Harvey answered. Gilda pulled his hand away as she squinted at him. Harvey stood up with her, and they quickly gave each other the once-over before Harvey zipped up and buckled his belt. The DA hung up, and Harvey checked the phone before looking Gilda in the eye. “Redding’s wife got us a gift… Do you have my cologne in your��?” Gilda spritzed him before spritzing herself with her perfume. “Thank you.” 

“How do I look?” Gilda asked. Harvey spun her around. 

“So far out of my league it physically hurts,” Harvey complimented. Gilda grinned. 

Gilda opened the door for Redding and shook his hand. “Hello, Mr. Redding,” Gilda sweetly smiled. 

“Hi, Gilda. My wife wanted me to give this to you two kids,” Mr. Redding replied as he gave Gilda a large box. “You can open it, so we know whether or not to get you something else.”

Harvey took the box from her and kissed her cheek before placing it on his desk for Gilda to open. She gently tore off the gift wrap and opened the box to reveal a set of Arcopal harlequin teacups. Gilda covered her mouth and gasped. “How did you—? I’ve wanted this set since I was a little girl. My mother sold the set my grandmother had—.” Gilda looked at Harvey, and he looked at Mr. Redding. 

“Thank you. This is a beautiful gift, Mr. Redding,” Harvey whispered as he kissed Gilda’s forehead. 

**

Talia walked beside Bruce down the seemingly endless corridors. “Bruce, how are you feeling?” Talia asked. 

“Have you ever slept so well that you wake up and—? Talia, can I ask you something? How can I repay you?” Bruce questioned. 

Talia laughed and shook her head. “My father and I are very different people. We have similar dreams for this planet that we live on. I don’t think you’re a threat to our dream. Besides, I’ve seen you before you came to this island. Several times actually,” Talia confessed. Bruce’s eyes widened, and he stopped in the corridor. “When someone starts to train with the best fighters in the world, we make it a point to look into their history. You’ve worked with some of the deadliest people alive, yet you’ve never taken a single life. You’ve honed your skills for twelve years and have never truly used those skills to harm another human being. Why is that?” 

Bruce looked into her eyes, and he could see decades of hurt. “I don’t want to hurt anyone,” Bruce answered. I just want my family to be safe… How long have you been watching me?” 

“Quite a while… So, I know about your sister. Who she is… Who her birth parents are…” 

“You know about David and Shiva?” Bruce asked. Talia nodded as she took his hand and gestured to her left. “My sister isn’t a threat to anyone. She’s just a child—.”

“I know,” Talia replied. Bruce grew silent, and she glanced at him. “Please tell me about your mother.” It was the sweetest question. Bruce lit up at the question. 

“Mom’s great. It’s like we can look at each other, and she knows exactly how I’m feeling. No one understands me like she does… which means no one can upset me like her. She drives me nuts, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. My mom’s a saint on her best days, but she can be a spitfire when you tick her off. I’ve seen her reduce people to tears with a handful of words and a look,” Bruce laughed, “I used to be so scared of making her mad because I thought she’d tear me to shreds… But she’s always been the softest place to land whenever I fell.” 

“And your father?” Talia asked. 

“Well, that’s a bit complicated. I see two men as my father. My birth father and Alfred. Alfred’s known my father for so long… My birth father, Thomas, is the goal. I want to be as gentle as he is. His heart is too big for his own good. He loves children and ballet… Oh, he’s obsessed with ballet. You should see how he lights up. 

“Alfred seems much more stern than he actually is. Alfred’s a big softie, but he’s always been my rock when things got bad. He keeps us all going. That’s how I know my family’s okay. As long as Alfred’s there, everything’s okay,” Bruce replied. 

Talia smiled at him. “Stability, warmth, and understanding,” she whispered. 

“What?” Bruce asked. 

“That is what matters most to you. That is what drives you,” Talia answered without explaining the meaning behind it. 

**

Thomas took the thermometer out of Dick’s mouth. “One-oh-two. How’s your stomach?” Thomas asked as Dick kicked off his blankets. 

Dick tossed and turned. “It’s too hot,” Dick mumbled. 

Thomas doused a towel in lukewarm water and wrung it out before dabbing Dick’s forehead. “How did you get so sick, kiddo?” Thomas questioned as Dick’s phone started to ring. “You can answer it.”

Dick picked up the phone, but he started feeling woozy. “Hello,” Dick rasped without looking at the caller ID. “Oh man… You’re kiddin’... I gotta go.” Dick rolled out of bed and covered his mouth as he went to the bathroom and threw up in the doorway. “Oh no—.”

“Dick, it’s fine. I’ve got it,” Thomas replied. Dick pressed his forehead against the doorpost. Thomas got up on his cane and rubbed Dick’s back. “Who was that?” 

“Sylvie from gymnastics camp,” Dick mumbled. 

“I sense a little bit of animosity there, Dick,” Thomas whispered. 

Dick took a short breath. “I snuck her in a few nights ago. We weren’t doing anything… Just kissing, and her friends came to get her—. She gave me the flu and even worse, she got it by playing spin the bottle and kissing a bunch of other—.” Dick took a moment to stave off another wave of nausea. 

“Okay—.”

“You’re mad,” Dick mumbled without opening his eyes. 

“I’m not mad. I’m going to ask you a question, and I just want you to be honest with me. There aren’t any consequences for it. Are you and Sylvie—?”

“I’m fourteen years old. I just barely got through health class. Trust me, that’s not even on my mind right now,” Dick interrupted. 

 “Good. That’s good to hear. No more sneaking girls in, though. I need to know who is in the house at all times… And I’m pretty sure her parents would’ve assumed you did a lot more than kiss if they knew she was here,” Thomas replied, “I need to get vinegar from Alfred. I’ll be right back… Get back in bed.”

**

Martha sat in near-silence as she played with Cassandra’s hair. “How are you feeling?” Martha asked. 

“Sad,” Cassandra answered. 

“Are you sad because Daddy almost got hurt? Or are you sad because you didn’t want to hurt your—? Are you sad because you didn’t want to hurt David?” Martha asked. Cassandra didn’t answer. 

“Love makes us want to be good, but… I don’t feel good,” Cassandra explained. 

Martha got out of her chair to crouch in front of Cassandra and hold her hands. “I think you are a good person. I think you don’t like to hurt people… And I will never be angry at you for something that happened before I knew you. This is your home now. We love you. We want you here. Because you are good,” Martha emphasized as she let go of Cassandra’s hands and opened her arms. “Mommy loves you so much.”

“I love you,” Cassandra whispered as she hugged Martha. “But I did bad things. I killed.”

“That is what you were taught to do… You are not a bad person. You made a mistake because you didn’t know any better. People make mistakes all the time. You will learn and grow, and we will be here to help you make good decisions. I promise,” Martha whispered. 

“You are not scared,” Cassandra whispered in shock.

Martha chuckled. “Why would I be scared of my sweet little girl?” Martha questioned with all the genuine warmth and honesty that Cassandra needed to feel okay again.

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

Maybe dc×dp Jazz×Jason magical ceremony bullshit for soulmate friday?

"Hear-ye-hear-ye!" A glowing green man dressed in what looked like the stereotype for any comedic relief in midevial films called out as he floated above the city of Gotham, his voice projected around the world. "Her Royal Highness, Queen Regent of the Infinite Realm Throne has decided to cast the Ritual of Bindings, to draw her soulmate near in order to give DNA to help the Deaged King who has been injured and needs to be Reborn! Queen Regent Jasmine Nightengale will cast the spell in Three Scores! All those touched by Death may be called!"

Predictiably people freaked, running around screaming. Or talking about it, which was what the Justice League did right after, speaking at the table.

"Look, it's legit," John Constantine said to the others. "I've met Danny, the King, before he became deaged, and he's a good sort so is his sister. If she's calling upon the ritual... well, I honestly think she has no other choice."

"So she's going to force whoever-" Bruce said but John glared at him.

"No she ain't. Rather she'll give them a choice. It would be safer for her spouse to be her soulmate but she could find any random man to sleep with to get the DNA." he told Bruce who nodded grumpily. It appeared all they could do was wait.

After three hours, Bruce got an alert. Jason's tracker went offline. He didn't think of the Queen then, rather became worried about other things.

He should have thought of the Queen.

-0-

Jason found himself in a throne room, and reacted appropriately. He pulled out his gun and pointed it at a guy in armour. "Where the fuck am I?" he demanded.

"You are in the throne room of the Infinite Realms." a feminine voice said from behind. He turned to see a redhead behind him, dressed in a black dress. "I am Queen Regent Jasmine, and you are my soulmate."

"...Oh shit," Jason said, remembering the proclamation. He looked at the woman who looked back nervously. "This is for... the King?"

"My brother Danny is the High King. He was injured by an enemy of his, Plasimus. Vlad, our enemy, was obsessed with our mother. He wanted her but she hated him. Eventually he discovered Danny was transgender, as well as learning that Danny is like himself, what the citizens of the Infinite Realms call a halfa. Half human, half ecto being as they are called." Jasmine said in a tone that became choked as she spoke. "He attempted to claim Danny. I don't know how, he became confusing with calling my brother a son or a consort. I don't know which he meant and I don't want to know." Jasmine swallowed. "He attacked and our parents passed in the attack while Danny became injured. He needs to be Reborn, and I can provide half the DNA. I need another half."

"So... you want this a one off?" Jason asked. "Why not go out and pick up a random?"

"I don't want a one-off. I want a partnership. I want to raise my... my child with a partner. I also want him safe, and calling upon my soulmate will help." Jasmine said. Jason stared at her, wondering what to do.

He had never thought of marriage, or kids. Frankly with his life he didn't think it a reasonable thought. But here was a Queen asking him. His soulmate even.

(The part of him who loved the classics, who snuck smut novels and who had opinions on romance flicks was cooing inside of him, begging for this chance.)

Jason always did like kids...

"Alright so... what do we do?" he asked Jasmine who smiled beautifully. He wanted to put that smile on her more.

[inhurtandincomfort]

Clawing at Own Throat for Eldwin?

-🕯

Thank you anon!! Sorry this took awhile and is so short, but I'm pretty pleased with how it came out. I hope you enjoy!

For @badthingshappenbingo Prompt: Clawing At Own Throat Fandom: OC

CW: Self harm, self loathing, some depersonalisation

It was innocuous, at first.

The little bird on the side of his neck. Pretty, wretched thing. He got compliments on it sometimes. Inquiries about its meaning. He brushed them off easily enough; It was in honour of a friend. I just thought it was nice. It signifies peace and freedom.

They were always satisfied with those answers. They would never imagine what it really meant.

Freedom. Ha, what a joke.

He often didn't realise he was doing it. He only noticed when Clyde began to snap at him to stop that without even looking up from his paperwork. Or when Jowan would gently scold him as they went through their standard questions. It wasn't even itchy with its partner nearby. But it was there. Arrogant. Mocking. He stared at it in the mirror, his neck craned at an angle, his lips curled with disdain for his own reflection. Sickly skin. Heavy shadows under lifeless eyes. Small, circular scars dotted his neck. Next to a bird flying free when she ought to be in a cage.

He thought, not for the first time, that he looked rather like a corpse. Was he really alive at this point? He'd killed and been killed, resurrected more times than he could count. Could he really call himself a person anymore? How many times could one defy the laws of this world until they're no longer human? He should have been buried long ago.

No. He should have burned in the flames that have claimed so many lives. Claimed his own over and over.

He threw the blanket back over the mirror. He turned away from it, unable to bear the sight. His fingers scratched idly into the poor little dove.

***

The dove was angry.

She seared into his skin, taken by fury for her link was gone too far and oh, she made sure he knew. She punished him as though it was his fault, like he hadn't tried to get the crystal to stay behind. He should have tried harder. Should have kept his mouth shut. He should have begged and pleaded and degraded himself a little more for his mercy.

It wouldn't have made a difference.

His nails dug cruelly into his neck, to the ink embedded deep. It itched. She burned. She wanted to be free. They would never be free. Not as long as they were together, their fates intertwined. Would it leave a mark, he wondered? He hoped so. Maybe if it scarred Clyde would think twice before taking the stupid tracker with him. He didn't even need it with him. It was far more practical to leave it with Nels who might actually make use of it. But it wasn't about practicality. It was about punishment. And who was he, if not deserving?

He tore into ruined flesh, desecrating his body as naturally as he breathed. Vile, wretched thing.

***

He slammed the bathroom door behind him louder than he intended. His airways tightened, his collar was squeezing his throat as though it wanted to crush the life from him. He needed it off, he needed it gone, he dug his fingers into the metal in an attempt to pry it from his skin. He clawed at it like he was some feral animal tearing into its prey. His eyes stung and his vision blurred. He scratched and scraped and mauled his own neck already raw from weeks of abuse. He ripped into old scars, cigarette burns and needle points, tearing himself apart as the little dove taunted. They would never be free, she knew. He would never be free.

He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe and he couldn't get it off and it hurt, it burned, raging fire crawled up his flesh consuming everything in his path, agonising, relentless, rearing to swallow him whole-

His wrists were grabbed in a bruising grip. Someone was yelling. Yelling at him? He was hauled to his feet, his arms nearly wrenched from their sockets and since when was he on the floor? He didn't remember kneeling. Strong hands clamped on his shoulders shaking him slightly. They hovered in front of him, their lips moved but he couldn't register their words, it was like being underwater. His arms were pulled behind his back, a firm hold marching him from the room but not before he caught a glimpse at the mirror, its cover fallen. He was looking at a corpse. Clammy skin, sunken eyes, claw marks and a little dove bathing in blood.

@floral-comet-whump @cepheusgalaxy @violets-whumperflies @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @whump-till-ya-jump

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Whumpee (Nico) Drugged for His Own Good part 10

Warnings: infected wounds, fever

An anon requested a continuation of this storyline, so here it is!

He had to squish it all tightly to fit, but he managed to zip the backpack up when he was done -- ready to leave and make his daring escape.

He did one last assessment of his supplies, going over a mental checklist of what he might need for life on the city streets.

Phone. Amelia's phone. He should take that with him too. He could use it to call a taxi or something to get out of city limits and disappear to where his friends couldn't follow.

He crept back over to the couch, grabbing and slipping the phone into a side pocket before finally slinging the backpack on, wincing as it jarred his back injuries. He was finally ready to escape.

He glanced around at Amelia's warm home one last time, wistful but confident in his decision to leave this all behind and run away.

Like the coward you are, a nasty part of his mind sneered. Always running away to avoid facing your problems like a man. Since when do you back down from a threat?

Nico grimaced and shook his head to clear his thoughts, quietly opening the front door and slipping off into the night, the darkness swallowing him up as he disappeared to wander into the city alone.

He'd find a way to survive this -- he always did. It wouldn't be the first time circumstances had forced him to. There had been an odd time or two during battles with his team that he got separated or the enemy forced the team to split up, and it wasn't safe to reunite until the threat had passed. Nico had once had to stay low and survive for two whole days on his own before the rest of his team were able to get close enough to his location to rescue him. So at least he was entering vaguely familiar territory.

The bitter feeling of betrayal stung him again as his thoughts lingered on his team, how they had all gone behind his back when he gave them very clear orders that he didn't want to go through with the surgery to remove shrapnel from his gut.

Once again, because you were a coward, the harsh part of him remarked. Everything you do now is revolving around fear and paranoia. Your friends were trying to help you stay alive, and this is how you repay them?

Nico growled at himself to shut up as he stealthily snuck out of Amelia's house, heading for the bright lights leading to the heart of the city. It would be easy to get lost in the night life, and no one would recognize him -- his former friends would have a hard time finding him amidst the something-million people living in the city. He was determined to be the needle in the world's biggest haystack.

He remembered to turn off all trackers on Amelia's phone as he found a dark alleyway to sleep the night in like the homeless frequently did. He could worry about what his next plan would be in the morning. For now, he would rest, and heal.

He picked a dry spot next to a blue dumpster with some cardboard he could sleep on to stay off the ground, and sat down with a hiss of pain, setting the backpack down and lifting his shirt to check on the largest of his injuries – the deep gash in his side.

He peeled away the edge of the gauze Amelia had placed over it, and sucked in an anxious breath to see that the wound was weeping yellow fluid. Infected. Not good. That was where his fever had come from.

And it made sense, considering how his skin was red and inflamed, throbbing with heat around the torn edges of his flesh. That was a whole other problem in itself.

“I'll deal with it later,” Nico whispered to himself, and awkwardly laid down to sleep, using his backpack as a makeshift pillow.

It didn't take long after that for exhaustion to steal his conscience away.

Masterlist

⏪️ Back Next ⏩️

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @togzy

@whump-till-ya-jump @cravesunconditionallove @whumpwritinglover222 @written-in-the-stars135 @neverthelass

@starz8nk @redwinesupanover @whumpisgoodwhumpislife @theforeverdyingperson

@f1sh-bone @whumped4whumplover @theasexualwriterrat @whatwhump

[dragon-susceptible]

Different Path Taken Ch12: Followed

Corvus was still sent after the princes in this AU, but tracking two human children and one young elf is very different than tailing five well-trained, fully grown elven assassins. Andromeda finds him before he finds her.

“Anyone else hear that?” Callisto asked idly as they tried to clean up some of the scrapes on their glaive the next morning.  The princes were still asleep, and Rayla had just emerged when they spoke, eyes narrowed and ears pricked and alert.

They’d all heard the rustling in the bushes.  Runaan didn’t bother looking up from his bags yet. “We’re being followed.  Andromeda, Ram, deal with it.  Don’t kill them.  Better to be followed by an enemy we know than to keep hunting down new ones.  But find out how many, exactly, and who sent them.  Keep the maiming and the noise to a minimum, as a little gesture of goodwill.”

“If you want the maiming and noise to a minimum I’m not the one you want to send,” Ram said dryly.

Runaan shot him an irritable look.

“I’ve got it, Runaan,” Andromeda said, smothering a laugh. “I’ll come back if I need help.  Rayla can join me if I need it.” She said, meeting Rayla’s eyes, and sharing a smile with the younger girl.  It felt good to be back on good terms with her again.

Runaan glanced between them and nodded. “Very well.  Be careful.”

“I will.” Andromeda promised, and slipped off into the trees towards the crack of a branch they had heard.  She spotted the branch first, but the shadow in the tree above her didn’t escape her notice.  She smirked to herself, keeping her head angled where her braids would hide it, and glanced around as if confused.  

The rustle in the bushes gave her an excuse to duck out of sight, towards the noise.  She startled the fawn that had been approaching, and took a moment while hidden to crouch and offer her hand soothingly. “You’re all right, little one.” She whispered, and her hand twinged when she held it out.  She smiled sadly at the creature when it licked the slow bruising creeping up her wrist. “Thank you for the thought.  You should scurry now, this might be about to get messy.” She warned, before slipping further into the underbrush.

She made it into the trees, circling loosely around the clearing the tracker had been drawing her towards.  By the time she reached the tree behind where he had been, he was lowering himself down into the clearing, and she’d ascertained he was alone, or at least no one else was close enough to interfere on his behalf.  She smirked as she waited until he hit the ground to leap over to where he’d just been standing, and then when he froze, she dropped down behind him, unfolding her sickles and twirling the curved blade around his throat before he could turn to face her.

He froze, and she watched his shoulders tense, his hands turning his weapon over.  She smiled, keeping her body at a distance, holding the sickle with her good hand as far away from herself as possible. “Drop your weapon,” She said softly, clearly.

He hesitated. “Why should I?”

“The sickle around your neck is quicker than any chain behind you.” She pointed out. “If I wanted to kill you outright, I’d have done it, wouldn’t I?  Drop it.”

Apparently seeing the logic, he carefully let the weapon drop to the ground.  She took a step back, letting her sickle brush his throat. “Now, step away from it.  Wouldn’t want anyone tripping, would we?” She purred.

She heard him take a frustrated breath, but he backed up as she indicated.

“Good boy,” She murmured when she had him where she wanted him, in the middle of the clearing out of reach of his weapon or any trees.  She felt him swallow against her sickle, watched his breath speed up, and smirked broadly. “You like that?  I’m fond of it, myself.  Now keep being a good boy for me and we both get to walk away, how does that sound?”

He swallowed audibly again, holding his hands up where she could see them.  She appreciated the effort though she hadn’t ordered it. “Sounds too good to be true.” 

“I appreciate your honesty,” She replied cheerfully. “So here’s how this is going to go.  I’m going to ask you a few questions, and you’re going to keep answering me honestly.”

“Why should I tell you anything?” He demanded stubbornly.

“Well, the sickle around your throat tends to be fairly convincing,” She said mildly. “But if it isn’t, I’ll answer a few of your questions in exchange.  But I caught you first, love, so I get to ask mine first.  Sound fair?”

He sighed hard enough it moved his shoulders, and he turned his head a little bit to answer. “Do I have a choice?”

“You could choose death,” Andromeda told him honestly. “But we’d really rather not use that option, if you don’t force the issue.”

He narrowed his eyes - they were pretty, she noted as she peered over his shoulder and he tilted his head back at her, brown and dark in a way that was uncommon among her people.  Elyrin would like him. “Why not?”

“I get to ask first, remember?” She prodded, though she couldn’t help grinning at his suspicions. “It was clever of you to try and draw one of us out alone.  Weren’t expecting six of us when you caught up, were you?”

“Six?” He echoed, and raised at least the eyebrow she could see, and she noted the scar through it with amusement. “I counted five.”

She laughed softly. “We didn’t bring an extra tent for the children.  You scouted the camp last night after we went to sleep then?  There’s six of us, we’ve just been letting your princes sleep in the tents.”

“You’re sick.” He spat at her with sudden vitriol, and Andromeda blinked at his profile.

“I’ve been called a monster for many reasons,” She said mildly, tilting her head so he could see her face a little better as she arched her own brows at him. “But I’ve never been called sick for letting children sleep in a shelter.  I have to admit, that’s a new one.”

It was always sort of cute when humans bared their flat teeth with anger. “That’s one way of putting it.”

“Do you think we’re having them sleep with us?” She asked in disbelief, and laughed a little at the alarm in his eyes. “That’s a very brave accusation from a man with a blade at his throat.  No, darling, they get the tent of the first watch, and we trade through the rest.  Even your stories usually confine us to eating people, and not like that.”

“It’s your season, isn’t it?” He pointed out, and her eyes widened with surprise that he knew that.  All elves had breeding seasons, where they had higher fertility and sex drives, but few humans knew that those seasons varied amongst elves and when they were.

“Oh, you are clever,” She said, blinking. “But no.” It was a bit of a lie, breeding season was only weeks away, and she had been hoping to get home in time for it.  She was missing challenge season for this mission. “And even if it was, they’re children.  That doesn’t do any of us any good.”

He grunted distrustfully. “Why should I believe you?”

“Why shouldn’t you?  What do I have to lose from telling you the truth?” She pointed out. “Now wasn’t I asking questions first?” He fell silent, but she saw the doubt furrow his brows as his eyes wandered to the trees.  She would have to be careful with how she asked him questions. “Now, I already know you haven’t got any backup.  I cased the woods before I engaged you.” He stiffened. “That’s interesting.  You weren’t expecting this many of us.  What was your plan, darling?”

Andromeda kept dropping the names in, amused at how he seemed to flush deeper every time.  Seemed even his hatred didn’t make him immune to her charms, and she preened a little internally at it. “Thought I could pick you off until I could get to the princes.” He admitted after a conflicted sigh and his shoulders dropped a little.

“Very interesting.  I imagine the general doesn’t know there’s six of us, either, or she’d have sent you backup.” Andromeda dropped in her guess about who had sent him, watching his face for his reaction.

As it turned out, she needn’t have been watching so closely, as he nearly flinched, eyes flashing wide, when she said it. “How did you know the general even sent me?” He demanded.

Oh, this poor young man.  Andromeda almost patted his shoulder to console him. “Because I just said it,” She said gently. “And you just confirmed it for me.”

She saw the shame overwhelm his expression and pitied him for a moment as he closed his eyes and grimaced, turning his face away from her. 

“You’re a bit terrible with interrogations then, aren’t you, darling?  Not a soldier, then, just a tracker.” She observed. “You weren’t going to attack us, or you should have done that when most of us were asleep last night.”

“I’m here to free the princes from you,” He growled.

Andromeda smiled. “The princes aren’t prisoners, darling.  They travel with us willingly.”

“That’s a lie.  The king is dead, why would his sons be traveling willingly with assassins?” The tracker demanded.

“Funny how that happened the night we left with the children, long after we left, isn’t it?” She pointed out. “We didn’t plan on taking them, and we didn’t kill the king.  I won’t pretend we weren’t planning on it, but we never got to him.  Everything’s gone to shit, but with what we know now, we want those boys alive as much as you do.” She leaned in close to his ear, satisfied by now that he would be still, and added, close and soft, “You can take that back to the general.”

He shuddered at her breath on his ear. “That doesn’t make any sense.  What do you know?  Why would you want them safe?”

“I’m sure if you keep following us a little longer you’ll find out.” She said mildly, grinning when he twitched, looking at her again from his periphery. “That’s an answer you’ll have to earn, though, darling.”

He frowned over his shoulder, pouting, and she almost laughed at the adorable face. “You haven’t answered any of my questions.”

“I wasn’t done with mine yet.” She defended, still all too amused, and charmed by his sharp attitude.  He reminded her of Elyrin a bit. “So you’re here alone, sent by the general to free her nephews.  You don’t have backup.  Your only goal is to keep the boys safe.” She could ask him when he was next expected to check in, but with the goal to keep him alive and following them, she supposed it didn’t truly matter. “Do you know of anyone else sent after us?” She asked instead, as that was the more important question.

He shook his head with an air of resignation. “I don’t know.”

“Good boy.” She purred, and his back straightened on reflex, and she couldn’t help smirking about it.  Oh, he was cute, for a human.  Her husband would be rolling his eyes at her for bothering to qualify it and encouraging her to tease him more. “Now, I suppose I have a few minutes to answer your questions.”

“Are you going to answer them or are you going to keep dodging the point?” He asked grumpily. 

She laughed in spite of herself. “I have been a bit dodgy, haven’t I?  All right, if you ask again, I’ll clarify one answer for you.  Just one.”

He paused for a long moment, considering which question to ask.  The one he chose sent a chill down her spine, and her smile dropped. “If you didn’t kill the king, who did?”

“I . . . don’t know.  We don’t know.  I swear on our lives on that.” She said seriously. “And as a little bonus, I’ll be truthful - that’s part of why we’re keeping the princes.  We didn’t kill the king - which means someone else must be after them too, for reasons unknown.”

He frowned. “So we may have a common goal.”

“Perhaps.  But we don’t trust you any more than you trust us.  And the princes are with us now.” She pointed out.

“Fair enough.” He admitted over his shoulder, meeting her eyes as he tilted his head back, grudging respect in his careful shrug. “Where are you taking them?”

She didn’t know if that was something Runaan would approve of her sharing.  He had told her to get information from the tracker, and said to offer a little goodwill, but that might be a little too much. “You’ll have to follow us to find out that one, darling, sorry.”

“Why leave me alive?” 

“Call it a gesture of goodwill.  You want the boys alive, and so do we.  We’d rather keep you alive and on our tail than take our chances with someone else who may have less compassion.” Andromeda answered honestly. “But we won’t be making it easy for you.”

He scoffed lightly. “I didn’t expect you to start.”

“Good.” She smirked at his back. “One more question, and then we can part ways.  What’s your name, darling?”

He eyed her distrustfully, but apparently couldn’t find any harm in telling her. “It’s Corvus.”

“Mine’s Andromeda.” She winked at him. “Now face forward and be still.  Count to ten.  I’m going to leave, and when you get to ten, you can go fetch your weapon back and go hide away again until we get moving.  One small word of personal advice, though, Corvus?”

He shuddered at hearing his name and narrowed his eyes at her.

“Don’t try engaging with the others.  One has a mean streak, two are territorial, and the other two can’t be touched without making those ones angry.” She dared to pat his armored shoulder this time. “Stay alive back here, darling - but stay out of our way.  Next time you may not be so lucky.”

Corvus set his strong jaw but nodded carefully around her sickle.  He faced forward when directed to do so, and began counting aloud as she removed her weapon from his throat.  She fled into the trees before he could finish the countdown, successfully vanishing.  For the sake of information gathering, she paused in a tree where she could hide and observe; he actually kept his count slow and steady, and only moved when he was finished with it.  He looked back over his shoulder to where she’d disappeared, looking distinctly off-balanced, but he shook himself and went to fetch his weapon before retreating further from the elves’ campsite.

Good.  Sharp, intelligent, but somewhat inexperienced, and honorable.  This was good.  Andromeda slipped back to camp and trotted back in distinctly pleased with herself.

“Well?” Runaan prompted when she arrived, and looked around to see the princes still asleep.

“Just one,” She reported. “A tracker, not a soldier, sent by the general to free her nephews.  No backup, his orders are just to recover them, not to engage with us.  He’s honorable enough to stick to a deal even when he didn’t know I was still there to enforce it.  Doesn’t know of anyone else coming to follow us alongside him.”

Ram narrowed his eyes at her. “You seem awfully pleased with yourself.”

“Never you mind that.” She said loftily.

“You were flirting, weren’t you?” Callisto called her out with an amused look.

Skor snapped his fingers to get her attention and signed his own commentary with narrowed eyes and a lazy smirk. “Heat hitting you early, sparkles?”

Andromeda tossed her head to rattle the chains on her horns, theatrically, suppressing her own laughter. “It got me answers, didn’t it?  Never underestimate the power of a beautiful woman when your target is a young man who likes that sort of thing.”

Rayla also wrinkled her nose at this, and Runaan scoffed behind a hand as if covering up a laugh.

Just when they were all about to let it go, Andromeda stretched and added, grinning mischievously, “And he is pretty.”

Runaan actually barked a short laugh at that one and she grinned over at him. “You might actually appreciate this one, too, Runaan,” She dared to rib him a bit. “Tall dark and handsome is your style, isn’t it?”

“Is he tall to me or is he tall to you, Andromeda?” He asked mildly, though he was chuckling as he stood up to his full height, crossing his arms as she was reminded that even the tips of her horns only reached to his chest. 

She shrugged. “That is a point.  Tall to me, at least.”

“You’re all awful.” Ram informed them flatly. “Except Rayla, she’s a pure innocent child who doesn’t deserve to be subjected to your nonsense.”

“Innocent?” Rayla squawked, and pointed at Runaan. “Do you know what he gets up to at home?!”

That more than Andromeda’s teasing brought a pink flush to Runaan’s cheeks and he cleared his throat loudly. “That’s quite enough.  We should wake the princes and move on, now that our tracker has been addressed.  Left alive, I trust, Andromeda?”

“Alive and asking himself some hard questions, I would guess,” She grinned back, checking her still pristine nails. 

“Good.” Runaan shook his head, though she caught the smile on his lips. “Pack your tents, we should get moving.”

Rayla went to wake the princes in her place this time, the younger girl giving her a flat look and shooing her when Andromeda went to do it.  She couldn’t help laughing at the censure, and just managed to get it under control before the little ones were awoken and paying attention.  As she put her tent away, she grinned to herself, thinking that Elyrin would enjoy hearing about this little adventure when they made it back to the Silvergrove. 

It would be a welcome distraction from the adjustment of losing her aching hand.

[syluriar]

my lady - sylus x briar (mc)

a/n: a little rewrite of sylus' cat card so it fits my mc's personality more. mc's name is briar and will be used. i haven't wriiten fanfiction (espically smut) in a while, and it's my first time writing sylus so except mistakes.

warnings: smut. minors do not read.

word count: 4347

The piles of boxes of gifts are more than Briar could have ever imagined, wrapped in exquisite paper that she was positive costs far more than it should. Some even tied together with bows, or studded with jewellery.

How the rich live.

She wasn’t there to gawk at such things, but being a person who never had so much money to spend it on presenting a gift…she can enjoy this a little bit. It’s why she’s unwrapping them gently, savouring the softness of the paper and the shines of the studs.

Maybe I could save some for myself to use? Tara would like these.

Sylus, however, was tearing them apart within seconds. It doesn’t surprise Briar, knowing just how rich the man was, he probably thought the boxes were cheap, and not at all pretty.

Well, he might not be wrong on that part. Briar thinks as she picks up another box. Red and orange? Seriously?

“A prophecy book from 2,000 years ago?” She looks at it in shock. The book lover inside of her was interested, prophecies were a weird thing, but interesting to learn about. 

“Boring.”

Well, at least to her it is.

Opening another box, Briar raises her eyebrows at the object before her. “A Protocore cat wand? It’s powered by a Protocore and automatically switches between different modes.” She gives it a little wave, the two small golden bells jingle. 

Out of instinct, Sylus paws at the cat wand, but immediately looks away in disdain. “Tch.”

Seeing him act more like a cat, Briar can’t help but giggle and waves it again. His cat ears twitch at the sound, but he makes no move to catch it. He does, however, frown at her. “It won’t happen, Sweetie.”

Maybe later then. Rolling her eyes, Briar puts down the wand beside her and opens another box. Her eyes widen at what it contains. “Is this…a collar?” 

It’s black leather and soft in her hands. She feels around the edges, thumbs brushing over the metal latch. Why on earth would someone send this? Obviously you would get it for a cat, but Sylus is still human, and putting a collar on him…

Her cheeks go warm, the image of Sylus wearing this entering her mind. 

That would look good…

“Our fish has taken the bait,” His voice breaks her daydream which she is grateful for, and she turns to him. Inside the gift box he had opened lies a deep blue Protocore. Through the light surrounding it, Briar spots a string of floating numbers within. 

“It matches up with the intel! Snowy Owl is really interested in you…” Though the mission has been a success so far, the thought of another woman wanting Sylus doesn’t sit right with Briar. Not only is he vulnerable in the state he’s in now, but the thought of another woman touching him - 

“Why are you frowning? Isn’t this what you wanted?”

Briar blinks, and jumps back as Sylus appears next to her legs. When did he get so close? She swallows her nerves before replying. “It is, I’m just wondering what to do next.” 

Sylus raises a brow and leans his head closer, but Briar averts her eyes to avoid looking at him, her cheeks starting to warm again at his closeness. 

In doing so, she spots an open box that holds a bottle. “What’s that?”

Sylus stops and follows her gaze, his white gloved hand picking up the bottle and reading it’s inscription before handing it over. Briar tries not to think of her heart skipping a beat when her fingers brush against his, and looks at the bottle.

“Some long-distance hypnotising spray?” That...actually could work. A plan quickly forms in her head. “I’ll use this against her and place a tracker in her room once she’s fallen asleep, then the Association can take over.” 

Sylus hums, one of his cat ears twitching. “So, is that me used up?”

Briar raises a brow at him, a previous conversation of them using each other plays through her mind. A lot of their previous encounters do, and she tries hard not to wince at them as she remembers how unkind she was. But she’s gotten closer to Sylus now. The man she first met is different before her, and not just because of his cat features. 

“Well, you’ve still got to get me off this yacht and back home, right?” She smiles lightly and grabs the cat wand, using the feathers to gently stroke his cheek. “You can’t leave me yet.”

She expects him to chuckle at her words, or even look annoyed at her using the cat toy on him. Instead she’s surprised when his eyelids falter at the touch, his tail starting to move around a bit faster than before. Wanting more reactions, she glides it under his chin, making him tilt his face up, his eyes boring into hers.

“You’re enjoying this aren’t you, My Lady,” His voice, while soft, had a hidden tone to it she can’t quite place. 

Briar swallows her nerves once again. It’s clear that he’s enjoying what she’s doing, he would have told her otherwise if not. Feeling brave, she reaches out with her other hand and gently rubs at the tip of one of his ears, making his eyes widen in surprise.

She giggles. “You’re so cute right now, Sylus.”

“Cute, huh…” He huffs and narrows his eyes. “Even though these ears are only temporary, they’re a part of me for now.” He shifts his body so he’s leaning against the sofa, an arm bent at the elbow near her leg. “You shouldn’t touch me so casually. I’m not used to it.”

His words heat up her cheeks and make her heart beat faster, like many times they happen in his presence. She lowers her hand to rub at the base and a soft sigh escapes Sylus’ lips. “I guess you’re well acquainted with a cat’s weak spot.” 

“Your reactions certainly do help,” Briar finds herself replying and discards the cat wand, her free hand now coming through the strands of silver hair. “It’s only me here Sylus, there’s no need to hold back.”

She doesn’t know where this confidence comes from, but she’s blaming it on the mood within the room. It always comes out with Sylus, as well as her shyness when he gets too close or says something too intimate. It’s strange, but Briar  finds herself liking it. 

Her words do something to him as more pleasant signs come from his lips, his body leaning more into her touch and his tail in a frantic movement. He moves his body closer to her, giving her more access to touch him. “..Yes. This side as well,”

Her heart beats so loud as she follows his command that she’s afraid he’ll hear it, but she just can’t resist. She can’t remember when Sylus has been so vulnerable and bare to her, with his walls usually up and just enough softness escaping just for her. To see him so open like this is an opportunity she doesn’t want to waste.

Just as she’s about to slide her thumb up the side of his ear, he suddenly grabs her wrists, halting her movements. She can't even ask why before she yelps, as he moves their bodies. Her back pressed against the back of the sofa and Sylus' body between her legs, rising on his knees. A hand softly rests up her bare thigh, while the arm that previously rested next to her cradles her chin, forcing her to look at him. A small stroke of pleasure goes down her spine at his touch, the gloves doing nothing to hold back the warmth from his hand.

“Having fun, kitten?” His eyes held a twinkle of mischief, though most of the time they always do. “What’s next? Scratch under my chin hoping I’ll purr. Rub my stomach if I roll over? Feed my treats if I’m good? The possibilities are endless.”

“Sylus-” Her hands move on the sofa for balance, but in doing so nudges something besides her that jingles, and they’re eyes follow the source of the sound.

It’s the collar, sitting perfectly and peacefully. 

“Or perhaps…” Sylus picks it up and holds it between them, a smirk on his lips. “You'd like to collar me.”

“Huh?” Briar looks at him confused. Does…does he want to wear it? Surely not. Wouldn’t such a thing be too embarrassing and degrading for the leader of Onychinus. “A-Are you saying you want to wear this?”

Sylus shrugs. “Why not? You seem to like having me as a cat, so why not go all out.” He pushes the collar in her hands, the damn smirk still on his lips. “Put it on me.”

Her breath hitches, lost for words at his command. Looking down at the collar she rubs the material once again, the tag jingling faintly. That dream of taming him comes to mind, the way he sat on his knees and bound before her, the collar on his neck she kept toying with.

Is this deja vu?

“Well?” 

Briar finally looks up at him, the glint of amusement in his eyes shining as if telling her that she wouldn’t dare follow through. “Ok.” 

She unclips the metal and leans forward, his body still towering over her. “You need to lean down more,”

Sylus merely gives an amused huff and follows her words, their foreheads now almost touching, his nose just barely brushing against her own. “Like this, sweetie?”

“...Yeah,” She swallows and leans forward again, avoiding his gaze and focusing on the job he’s given her. Her arms holding the open collar as she puts her arms around his neck, heat thumping as her fingers graze against the skin of his neck and she slides her fingers down the collar, coming to the openings. She puts an end through the strap and clips it into place - 

“Hmmm that’s too loose, kitten.” He breathes by her ear, a gasp almost escaping her lips. “It needs to be tighter if you don’t want it to come off.”

You’re the one who wanted it on. She wants to bite back, but shakily unclips it. She pulls the end through further. “Like this?”

“Tighter.” 

She’s sure her face is bright red, her heart beating wildly and her body warm. She pulls more on the end and clips it. 

“Good girl.”

She whimpers. His lips touching her ear and his hands wrapped around her waist, her legs almost hugging his own and her hands holding his shoulders. “Sylus…” He nips her ear causing her to gasp, his lips travelling down along her neck and to her shoulders, leaving kisses in their wake. “What are you doing?”

“Me?” He hums as he places another kiss on her shoulder. “I’m just being a good cat for his master. She’s taken such good care of me, so I want to reward her.” His lips glide across her skin, making goosebumps along the way. 

Perhaps it was a bad choice to wear a dress revealing her neck and shoulders, parts of her body Sylus liked to touch the most with those soft lips of his. She’s lost count how many times she’s looked in the mirror and covered the marks up with make-up, and the look on her coworkers face when she wore turtlenecks for a week wasn’t one she wanted to experience again, especially Tara’s smug look.

Briar pushes against his shoulders, despite them weighing more than her own body. “Sylus…don’t…” 

It takes a few more pushes, but eventually Sylus relents and moves away, his hands staying at her waist. “What’s wrong sweetie? By your little noises and blushing cheeks, you’re enjoying this.”

Briar breathes heavily, her body hot and an ache coming between her legs. The loss of his closeness gives her relief, but her body calls for him more. “I…I still have to complete my mission.” She can’t waste any more time if they wanted to be off this boat before the sun’s up, and no matter how badly she wants his lips on her skin again, the mission needs to come first. Something she’s sure Sylus understands.

His thumbs start to caress her sides, however she doesn’t think he’s doing that to comfort her. “I know sweetie, but it’s gonna be a while before dawn comes, and we’ve worked hard tonight. Let’s have some fun before we go, shall we?”

It’s one hell of a decision, and it doesn’t help when his thumbs start to get harder in their motions. She knows he’s desperate for her by the look in his eyes, and if it was any other man he would have pounced on her minutes ago. But this is Sylus, the man who would be wanting to ravish her for thousands of years, but would never make a move without her consent. Just one of the things she adores about him.

She swallows his surprised gasp as she kisses him, but it doesn’t take him long to return the affection, and when he licks her lip for entrance, she gladly gives it to him. Her hands holding tightly on his blazer as he devours her, a deep gasp leaving her lips when he finally releases her.

He grins. “Shall I take that as a yes?”

Briar giggles, one of her hands rubbing along one of his ears. “Do you really need to ask?” Her hands glide down to undo his tie and throw it away, not caring where it lands. “Since we have a while, I assume you don’t mind being the lovely butler you are and attend to me, do you?”

“Oh sweetie,” His eyes darkened and his voice lowered, a tone Briar found so utterly attractive “It would be my pleasure.”

In a flash he’s back on his knees before her, a sight she doesn’t think she’ll ever forget, and gently lifts up her right leg with one hand. Her breath hitches as he slowly peppers kisses down her calf, his other hand following behind. “My Lady’s feet must be sore after such a long day, allow me to tend to them.” 

He slides a high heel off gently, placing it on the floor against the sofa before rubbing his thumbs and fingers over her foot, pushing harder against some points and circling the flesh softly in others. 

Briar sinks into the comfort of his touch. She’s fairly used to messages thanks to Sylus treating her after time she’s faced a difficult Wanderer, or if her body was just sore from daily things. It’s always the same high end and sleek luxury one he books her in for, the staff knowing her by appearance alone. She enjoys it there as it gives her a chance to unwind and relax, and the staff were ever so gentle with her.

Despite that, she finds Sylus’ touch far more comforting, even if it ends up turning her on.

Her high heels now off and feet massaged, Sylus makes his way up, his hands sliding up her bare legs to where he meets her dress. His closeness makes Briar twitch in anticipation, which makes him chuckle. 

“Anxious, sweetie?” He smirks at her and pushes the dress up her legs till it reaches her waist. Briar blushes hard as she watches Sylus’ hand crawl up and gasps as they touch the edge of her underwear. She knows she’s wet, but when he looks down and grins, it almost makes her want to shield away from him from embarrassment. “And soaked as well, I see.” He tsk’s playfully. “I must clean My Lady before she gets more dirty.”

He pulls down her underwear painfully slow, and she bites back a whine. Of course Sylus is teasing her, he always has. But ever since he found out that she likes it she hasn’t gotten it straight since, except on their first time in bed. 

Briar gasps as he lifts her legs, placing her heels on the edge of the sofa and thighs far apart, exposing her greatly to his eyes. 

She blushes hard. 

Sylus however licks his lips, anticipation glowing in his beautiful eyes. A finger, still gloved, makes its way down her thighs and to her clit, and swipes down before entering her. “Your very wet, My Lady. However, did this happen?” 

“Sylus -” Briar whines, her hands clenching hard beside her on the sofa seats. “-please,”

He hums as retracts and licks the finger, his tongue twirling around that has Briar twitching. He just needs to lean down and do that to her, she can already imagine what it feels like. “Please what?”  

She pants. “Please…fuck me with your mouth.”

The gleam in his eyes darken. He wraps his arms around her legs and pulls her towards him as he leans forward, his breath just hitting her folds that has her squirming. “But of course, My Lady.”

She’s felt his mouth on her many times, but she will never get tired of the pleasure when he finally descends on her. She gasps loudly, legs immediately jerking at the wonderful sensation. His tongue goes all over her from her clit to her opening, and once he’s done it too many times, he goes for sucking different places that has her whimper and groan. 

“You taste so sweet, My Lady.” He whispers against her, teeth just grazing. “Will you allow me to indulge more?”

It takes Briar a few minutes to catch her breath to answer, panting hard and body heat through the roof. “...I will, as long as you make me cum,”

Sylus chuckles and kisses near her clit, his hands now gripping her thighs tighter. “That was never out of the question, My Lady.”

Now he’s devouring her, like a starved man that hasn’t had a drop of water for weeks. Her hands fly and latch into his hair, nails almost digging into his scalp, but only spurs him on more as he groans against her, silently telling her to do it more.

She feels the hot burning sensation in her stomach and moans. “S-Sylus…Sy - I’m close-”

“Come, My Lady.”

It’s like she’s under his spell and comes undone immediately. Her hips rise as her orgasm ripples through her and Sylus follows, rising to keep attached to her clit, desperate to not let go. 

Briar lays slack as he licks her clean, gently lowering her feet to the ground once he’s done. The image of him licking his mouth to gather the rest of her is intoxicating, and added to her mental album.

He leans over her and gives a soft kiss on her cheek. “Did My Lady find that enjoyable?”

“Immensely,” She replies, and angles her face to kiss his lips, getting a taste of herself as he opens his mouth. When she pulls away, she pushes his blazer off his shoulders and starts undoing his buttons. “However, your Lady needs more.”

“Does she now?” He chuckles and shrugs off his blazer, his eyes glancing down as she undoes his shirt before looking back at her. His hands go around her waist, his fingers toying with the zipper of her dress before pulling it down. “And what does My Lady need?” 

The dress falls from her shoulders, and like silk it slides off her body and onto the floor. Briar continues to unbutton Sylus’ shirt, which he takes off once she’s done, following his blazer to being thrown somewhere in the room. She watches hungrily as he takes off his gloves with his teeth.

God that’s hot. 

She lets her hands wander from his shoulders to his chest, pressing down harder as she glides her hands along the skin. When it makes the man above her gasp and his cheeks go red, she grins. Slowly, her hands glide down to his trousers and cup the large tent now formed. Sylus jerks at the touch, and when she squeezes just a little, a small groan escapes his lips. 

“She needs to be fucked on this sofa, now.”

Before she can give another squeeze, Sylus gently pats her away and goes towards his trousers. In a flash he’s bare before her and she has no shame in letting her eyes roam over him. His slender neck she likes to leave kisses on, the tone chest she likes to hold closer to her, his arms that always keep her safe and warm - 

And his large cock that always drives her crazy.

“Does My Lady approve?” He raises a brow playfully at her, knowing just how hot and bothered he makes her feel. 

Briar leans up, her hands trailing on his hip and just going near his cock, teasing him. She hums. “That remains to be seen.” 

Sylus chuckles and moves towards her, and leans her body down along the sofa as he manoeuvres above her, her legs caging him in as he settles between. A hand on her hip and the other caressing her cheek, Sylus kisses her sweetly on the lips before leaving small ones along her neck and shoulders, Briar panting all the way. 

“Then, let's see.” He whispers against her lips, giving her one last kiss before backing away.

He lifts her legs again and rubs his cock against her wet clit. Briar gasps at the sensation, impatiently waiting as he gets himself wet. It’s not long before he enters her, and she moans loudly as she gets filled up, his cock fitting perfectly inside her. 

Sylus groans, his hands gripping her hips as he starts to thrust in and out of her, clearly feeling the same effects as she is. Briar wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him closer to her, her legs wrapping around his waist and clenching her walls tighter around him. He lets out a moan, a sound so electrifying - Briar didn’t know a man could produce such a captivating noise.

 “Hmm, My Lady is enjoying this, yes?” Stll, no matter what he still bears that cocky smirk, but it just makes Briar shudder in excitement, as he can back up his words. 

She nods frantically, hands clenching on his shoulders. “Yes, yes - more Sylus…please!”

He growls, and her breath gets caught in her throat because  - well shit - that was arousing. He grips her thighs and leans forward, placing them so her knees cage her face and his body towering over her. “As you wish, My Lady.” He thrusts deeper, more frantic and Briar can’t help but take it all and moan, gasp and pant at it all. 

“God - Sylus - cumming,” She could barely speak - could barely get the words out before another orgasm crashes through her body, only more intense and breathtaking than the first. Her hold on her shoulders weaken, but Sylus doesn’t stop. He keeps going through her high, his thrusts now sloppy, desperate and wild. 

“My - Lady,” He moans deeply as he comes undone, hips still as he fills her, He’s panting hard above her, cheeks flushed and sweat on his forehead.  

It’s an alluring sight.

He kisses her passionately and Briar holds him close, clinging onto his warmth. Her arms pull him in closer as he rests on her body, his face nuzzling against her neck. They lay there, hands rubbing each other comfortably as they come down from their high.

Then something catches Brair’s eyes, and she giggles. “Your tail is waving around widely,”

He hums against her, the vibration soothing through her body. “Can you blame me, My Lady?”

She chuckles. “You can stop calling me that now, roleplay is now over.”  

“Maybe for now, but I am still your Cat Butler,” He leans his head up to look down at her, his eyes warm and smile soft. “I can’t stop addressing you while I’m still like this now, can I?”

“Ok, Ok.” Briar smiles as she rolls her eyes. “If that’s what you want,” She reaches a hand and softly rubs an ear. “I’ll be sad once they’re gone though, you’ve been a very cute kitty.”

He huffs a laugh. “Still calling me cute after that?” But leans into her touch, it’s a welcoming feeling to him now. “You still surprise me after all this time.” Most people would say that with a harsh tone, but Sylus voice is gentle and enduring.

It makes her heart warm.

“Well, it’d be boring if I didn’t.” She jokes. She likes to keep him on his toes, to see that surprise expression when it’s normally cocky. It gives her a sense of pride to break his smug features once in a while. “But we can’t stay like this for long, I still have a mission to complete.”

He laughs, his body shaking that vibrates against her own. Despite all the arousing expressions and noises he’s given her, this heartfelt laugh, with that beautiful smile, will always be her favourite. “See, My Lady? Always surprising.” He caresses her cheek again and she leans into his touch, nuzzling. He kisses her forehead and reaches his hand out, a fluffy blanket quickly landing in his grasp.  

He must have used his Evol. Briar thinks as he backs away and covers her bare body with it.

“I’ll complete the rest of the mission for you. Stay here and rest.” His command, while gentle, has a tone telling her not to fight back. It must be the exhaustion because she relents and pulls the blanket tighter around her. Despite it keeping her warm, she misses his heat.

He dresses quickly before walking back towards her, his hands threading though her soft hair before placing a kiss on her cheek. “I'll be back soon and we can go back to my place. Sounds good?”

Briar hums as she nods. “Ok. I miss seeing Luke and Kieran.” 

“And they you,”

Placing another kiss on her forehead and making sure she’s wrapped nicely in the blanket, Sylus quietly leaves the room. Briar snuggles into the sofa, ready to sleep off her exhaustion and looking forward to going back to the base.

“Hang on…he still has the collar on!”

[edutainer2022]

@janetm74, I did a little thing for this prompt:

"I'll come quietly. Just don't hurt them."

***

Scott didn't know about coding and cybersecurity nowhere nearly as much as John or Brains did (or Alan, for that matter), but he knew enough to understand John didn't know about these files. The folder miraculously slipped past Eos, John approved and Kayo vetted firewalls, and materialized on the desktop in his private study. He used it far less frequently than Dad's desk or even Dad's old office, but sometimes insomnia struck when his batteries were running low and going down to get some work done was too much effort.

That meant he couldn't really know how long the folder had been there, which made his insides run cold. What made his hands numb, to boot, were the latest photos in the unnamed folder - pictures of his brothers on the latest rescue. Up close and from a distance. The pictures were not scrambled by their tech. Another batch were from Alan’s recent school trip to Melbourne. From Virgil and Gordon's night on the town. Maybe most unnerving of all - from INSIDE Five and a training hangar on Gran Roca. 

Scott swallowed hard, though his throat went instantly dry, and clicked on the last file - a candid photo of himself in the Tracy Tower penthouse, tying a tie, smiling at a hologram off screen, likely talking to a brother before a day of meetings. The file was uncharacteristically heavy so, just as he suspected, there was a hidden attachment, riding on it. Several more files popped up. Realistically, he should have gotten Kayo and John on the case by then, middle of the night or not, but Scott was frozen in place by the sheer magnitude of morbid implications.

One of the files featured four DNA sequences, neatly labeled Virgil through Allie. Nothing more, nothing less. Scott's vision swam. The threat was as conspicuous as it was cruel - spanning anything from customized targeted neurotoxins or viruses, nanobots masked in a bloodstream, carrying explosives to heart or brain, to a smart bullet, programmed to follow the target DNA like a bloodhound.

Their family had access to almost unlimited research resources and brainpower to counter even something that sophisticated, but Scott wouldn't ever take a chance the assault on his brothers wouldn't have an instant lethal effect. Since his own DNA was not on the list of targets, Scott had a pretty good idea what could be in the next file. It wasn't a sum - of course it wouldn't be that easy. When was it ever! It wasn't even a list of Tracy Industries or IR tech they wanted specs for. It was an instruction he needed to follow on his way. The destination he'd receive upon confirmation of being... cooperative. Whoever they were - wanted him to show up in person.

The next file was a cloaked, heavily encrypted chatbot where Scott typed in his response. Kayo would have his head for going through with it, heavily backed up by John and Penelope, but he couldn't risk his... everything. The only life he would willingly ever give up was his own. He typed in a quick message.

The response, likely pregenerated and tracable, biped almost immediately. No sarcastic niceties or eery foreboding of the consequences of Scott sharing any details of this arrangement with anyone, least of all his family or the GDF. Just a geotag. Scott had to catch himself from slumping sideways on the edge of the desk, as his vision went black for a moment.

The next thing he did after getting his breathing under control and passably certain not to keel over in the middle of his bedroom, was a beeline to his walk-in closet, the palm print activated safe in the far nook of it. His fingers hovered briefly over the cold shape of the gun he kept there, but moved on. Weapons, comms and trackers would be the first things stripped off of him, before he'd be moved to a different location, no doubt. He reached for a secure, strictly offline tablet, stashed in the safe. It held his will - updated frequently to include the ever expanding assets and charities he personally oversaw, in his line of work and lifestyle he left little to chance. He wouldn't have his family go through the same legal hoops Dad's unforeseen demise put himself through. Joint guardianship documents for Alan and Gordon. Gordie was turning 20 in several months, but Allie was still firmly a minor in any jurisdiction, and Grandma wasn't getting any younger since they had to do it the first time around. The consensus, Scott knew nobody wanted to think about ever since the first draft of his will after IR went operational again, was to name Virgil as Alan’s next-in-line guardian. Virgil, his trusted SIC and deputy biggest brother  - Allie would be taken care of. They all would. Scott could see deep brown eyes darken with pain and betrayal in the shadows of the closet - Scott trusted Virgil with his life and with absolutely everything important in his life, but not with THIS. He couldn't.

The tablet also hosted security codes and off the books protocols for IR operations and the island. That was for John. Some of them Casey, Lord Hugh and Kyrano read him into, no other family members present, after the search for Dad had been called off. Some were on an encrypted thumb drive kept in an indefinitely rented deposit box in the bowels of a Swiss bank, with instructions from Dad to transfer to him exclusively or to destroy. The instructions were clearly devised to be put in action decades later than they were and it hurt like hell to touch that thought. Some of the directives not even John knew about by now. That was about to change, soon. If Scott knew his ginger brother, he could be sure at least Virgil or the Tinies would never know.

His whole being ached to make one last round of the villa and check up on his loved ones - he harbored no illusions of ever seeing them again. But he couldn't risk missing the window of John's sleep cycle and not slipping out at least somewhat undetected. Eos and Kayo's sensors would flag him leaving the island in a private jet, not One, but he knew enough to not raise alarm and cover his tracks with a bogus errand in Warsaw at one of TI recent acquisitions. That was as far as he could take the traceable jet. But with Brains' reinforced engines, hopefully, he'd touch down and be on his way, before his absence would be noticed around Gordon's morning swim. As late as breakfast on the island, if he were lucky and they thought he were working some issues out on a long run.

***

A ring of lights changed from default white to orange - something John had come to recognize as a perplexed frown. A hurricane he had been keeping tabs on shifted from yellow to red and the alert woke him up earlier than he estimated. But the hurricane wasn't the source of confusion for his protégé.

"What is it, Eos?"

"I'm detecting a discrepancy in Scott Tracy's schedule and itinerary. He hadn't been due at any of the Tracy Industries subsidiaries this week or the next."

It was John's turn to frown. Scott business meetings and engagements schedule was guarded with what John was sure his PA's life and strictly need to know with any on site security teams. Unbeknownst to Scott himself, since his recent loosing round with exhaustion, hypoglycemia and dehydration, about two thirds of the "matters that urgently required Mr. Tracy's attention", be it Tracy Industries or GDF, hell or high water, were rerouted through Five and screened first by John himself, then Virgil, Grandma or Kayo, depending on the occasion. An ad hoc meeting at a new, fairly minor, Eastern European subsidiary would certainly NEVER slip past the carefully erected firewall around their favorite overworked idiot. Yet the lit up line on the holomap clearly outlined the flight path of Tracy S - Scott's personal jet, almost as fast as Shadow, but rarely taken out for a spin these past years.

John moved to enhance the map and shuddered. He'd probably faint if he were not in zero G already - the destination dot flashed over an abandoned airfield in Poland, in the grey zone now, 5 miles of a forest track shy of the Bereznik border.

A red alert clackson blared over the still sleepy island...

TBC?