Unpleasant Revelations - DPxDC Ficlet Idea for the Stillborn Au
"Have you met my youngest, Damian, Mr. Masters?"
Its only from twenty years of long, hard experience and practice that Vlad doesn't increase the room temperature from 'borderline uncomfortably cool' to 'unbearably hot' the moment Bruce Wayne pulls his youngest and "only" biological son out in front of him.
He puts only in quotations because twelve year old Damian Wayne looks scarily, uncannily like one Daniel Brown. Jack and Maddie's foster son, second victim of their foolishness, and only other halfa in existence. Second only to him.
It's nauseating how similar they look. From the scowl and terrible glare on the young boy's face, to his brown skin -- which was only a few shades lighter than Daniel's, the shape of his nose, and even the strange winged edge of his eyebrow. Something that Vlad has long since come to find endearing on the child he considered a son of his own. The only difference was that Damian had dark, sharp green eyes.
Daniel's eyes were blue. The same glacier shade as his father's, who stood behind Damian with a proud, oafish smile on his visage.
It was infuriating how similar they look. Vlad might not have rapidly swung the room temperature from one extreme to the other, but he can't stop himself from letting the fury burning within his core from slipping out and raising the temperature up a few degrees.
Because it really only meant one thing.
Damian Wayne and Daniel Brown were related.
Damian Wayne and Daniel Brown were brothers.
Standing in front of him, it was clear as day. He can already picture a phantom image of Daniel standing beside Damian, the same scowl written on his face, the same glare carved into his eyes. The only difference being the dark, exhausted circles beneath them that seemed to be permanently painted onto his skin. The only thing missing being the permanent loneliness and vigilance permeating his being like a scar.
This, if revealed, would be enough to ruin Bruce Wayne's reputation. Or, at the very least, darken it quite a bit. The great philanthropist Bruce Wayne with another secret blood child? One related to his youngest? One that had been put into foster care? Seemingly thrown away?
It would be a firestorm.
One that Vlad is not keen on starting.
It would ruin Bruce Wayne's reputation, yes. But it would hurt Daniel in the process -- the harassment he would face alone might just be enough to break that fragile child completely. That was just not something he could allow. Or, even worse, bring him into his biological father's care and custody -- something Vlad was even less willing to allow.
It's not out of kindness to Wayne that Vlad will keep mum about this.
His grip on his champagne flute tightens, just a bit. He's still aware enough of the world around him to not let it shatter in his hands. His plastered, pleasant smile tightens around the corners, and he forces his focus to slide from Damian to Wayne.
"The resemblance is uncanny, Mister Wayne." He says, slanting his smile to the side slyly. Although he's not talking about the resemblance between Wayne and his son. Rage simmers beneath his skin, burning coal and embers in the core of his chest, nestled between his lungs, as he meets the man's eyes.
Wayne swaggles his head proudly, his ditzy smile widening as he squeezes his son's shoulder affectionately. Bastard, Vlad wants to spit.
He breathes in through his nose, and exhales out through his mouth. The champagne in his hand cools, and stops its unusual bubbling.
The Damian boy scoffs under his breath, his mouth still coiled upward into a scowl. With the revelation of his blood relation to Daniel evident, Vlad's not sure if he should find it endearing or not.
He is not Daniel, so he decides that it's just simply irritating. He decides to ignore it.
"And you said he was your only biological son?" He asks, voice lilting and head tilting. He knows its a suspicious question at worst, insulting at best. But considering Wayne's past proclivities, he can hardly call it an unexpected question.
Damian puffs in great offense, face twisting angrily. It reminds him of Daniel when Vlad insisted that he was wrong about something or other, and for a moment his heart swells, fond.
But this is not his child, and so the feeling quickly crashes and burns, simmering back into rage. This was not Daniel -- this was his replacement. A replacement that Wayne was free to keep.
Wayne chuckles, idiotically, as if he'd said some funny joke. Vlad's other hand, the one gripping his cane -- something he's required ever since he was dispatched from the hospital all those lonely years ago -- tightens instead. He grinds his teeth -- him and Jack Fenton would get along like a house on fire, he hates it.
"I can understand why you'd ask that, Mister Masters," Wayne says, squeezing Damian's shoulder again, "but yes, Damian is my only biological son. Although that doesn't mean I don't love my other children any less."
Bastard.
For all his posturing and flouncing about caring for his city and his children, Vlad never would have thought the Prince of Gotham capable of abandoning one of them.
But, well.
They all have their dark secrets.
And what one man throws away, another man picks up. If Bruce Wayne didn't want the treasure child that was Daniel Brown, then Vlad Masters was more than happy to take him instead.
"I see."
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Afterwards, they do a race. They don’t talk about it, but it’s there, between them still. Something settled between them. Cleo doesn’t know how to say it; they never know how to say things like this. Still, they need to, so they wait until Ren’s race is over and then hike through the jungle to go sit on top of Etho’s base and wait for him to show up as well.
He doesn’t. He’d gone to their base. Instead of just showing up for each other, they have to somewhat awkwardly coordinate over text which base to meet at. It forces everything to feel more real.
When they finally meet up, it’s in the shopping district, leaning against the button. A dangerous game in theory, but Cleo’s not fully convinced it can explode at this point, so.
Cleo breathes. They’re both quiet for a moment.
"Okay, so like, are we doing this?" Cleo says.
"I don’t really know, uh, what this is," Etho says, "but I… care about you. I think. So I think we’re doing that."
Cleo nods once. "You know I don’t fall in love, right? I’m not going to fall in love with you, I don’t do that. Might say something about loving you, but it’s not the same thing. Different sense of the word. It’s different, loving people and falling in love, got it? And I won’t do that second thing. I’m never going to do that second thing. I don’t--"
"Okay. I know," Etho says.
"Do you?" Cleo asks.
"I mean, not entirely, but I’m frankly surprised we’re having this conversation in the first place. I never expected you to be in love with me."
"But I’m not," Cleo says. "I’m attracted to you, and I love you as like, a companion and friend or whatever, but I’m not in love with you. I’m. Ugh. I wish I knew the right words. I just--I also don’t let go of things so if we’re doing this you’re going to have to get used to that real fast. Me not being in love with you but me not letting you go, both of those things."
"You're attracted to me? Aw, Cleo," Etho says.
"Don't be an ass," Cleo says.
"Sorry, sorry. It's just, geez, this is--a heavy conversation, huh?"
Cleo sighs. "We'll work on the deflection."
Etho rubs the back of his head and looks away. "Uh, in that case. If I'm maybe a little in love with you--"
"I can't--I can't reciprocate that, Etho," Cleo says, and their voice cracks as they do.
"I know," Etho says. "I just want to make sure it's okay, then."
"You can't help that, can you? Just like I can't help that I still sort of want to kill anyone who hurts you."
Etho seems to think about it for a while. Cleo resists the urge to fidget. She's a zombie. She shouldn't have the urge to fidget; she should be too dead for that. Besides, it's hardly like it's a secret she doesn't fall in love, exactly. It's just... it's only relevant sometimes. Feeling like, as she watches Etho and Bdubs dance around each other, she's on the outside looking in. She'd kill to hold their hands, to protect them, hell, even to kiss them--but that's different. She just can't summon the same emotion of... she doesn't know.
Martyn had almost gotten it, for all he didn't get anything else, in the end. Scott was never going to fall in love with her in the first place, for obvious reasons. Whatever attraction she and Pearl have going on, it's definitely not love.
But this...
"Okay," Etho says.
"That's it?" Cleo says.
"I mean, does it need to be anything else?" Etho says. "It's not like we can just... not do this. I think it's too late for that. Whatever 'this' is. I'm in love, and you aren't, but we'd both be pretty upset to lose this, right? So I'll... figure it out."
Cleo swallows. They feel small. "Will you? Do you understand?"
Etho shrugs. "I understand that it's you, and it's you that this happened with, not anyone else."
"Okay," Cleo says. "Okay."
"Is it okay if I kiss you? Just to try it, I mean. Not like, as a--this is a bad time, actually, I don't want to try to make any kissing we do romantic, I mean, you just told me this won't be romantic, I--"
"Yeah, sure, you can kiss me," Cleo says, and he leans in to kiss them. It's nice. A little soft for what they'd want, really, but nice. He leans back. He looks them in the eyes.
"I get it a little more now."
Cleo is baffled. "How? Kissing is just like, a thing we did? How does that have anything to do with any of the rest of this."
Etho laughs. "I definitely get it a little more now. What do you want to tell the others? I know they're definitely gossiping."
"Ugh. Can we just, like, not?" Cleo says. "I don't want to have to explain it."
"I'll just be confusing then, got it," Etho says, and Cleo can't help but laugh themselves.
"This is why you're my favorite," Cleo says, and they think maybe this will work out okay, after all.
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🥀 | yoongi
the sleep deprived series (n.): drabbles that i write when i’m sad and tired
→ vampire!yoongi ft. lots of miscommunication (all because newly-turned yoongi doesn't know how to talk to women lol) | 2.6K words
→ a/n: SURPRISE i am miraculously alive and well (?) back at it again with some weird monsterfucker propaganda... it's been months since i've written a fic so pardon the lacking quality but i Am Trying... also i added ghost!maknaeline bc i think they'd be cute... umm this might become a series if anyone is interested but i think it works as a standalone... enjoy!!!
When Yoongi first agreed to being turned, he never imagined being so tired all the time. Even as a mortal, Yoongi had never been the most energetic soul. He preferred loafing around at home or reading a nice book by the fire. He rarely left his drafty villa, always isolated despite the nearby town. The most cardio he would ever do was when he’d take the few steps needed to get to his piano and play a few soft songs for the ghosts wandering down his halls.
He knew the neighbors liked to whisper about him, liked to refer to him as a local boogeyman to scare naughty children. “Beware the man who sold his soul to the devil,” they warned, though Yoongi supposes their silly rumors weren’t so far from the truth. Although, it was only a month ago that he did “sell his soul,” just not for the reasons that people might have expected.
Still, being a vampire was still very strange and new to Yoongi. He’d known about spirits and ghosts for as long as he can remember, but even he thought that creatures of the night were nothing more than an urban legend. All it took was one high-stakes game of cards and an empty promise to pay back a debt for Yoongi to realize that it probably isn’t smart to make deals with ghoulish-looking men in strange clothing in the first place.
It wasn’t all bad, save for the never-ending fatigue and deathly pallor to his skin. He was still Yoongi, just… worse, if you will.
For safety’s sake, he hadn’t told anyone about it. He was a bit embarrassed, to be honest. If his brother found out, he’d surely get an earful (or a stake through his heart, though Yoongi hopes his Seokjin hyung would remember all the good times they had together). Most importantly, he could absolutely NEVER tell you about his turning. That would be absolutely humiliating.
You were a witch doctor he had met just a few weeks prior to his turning. You had just moved into his sleepy town as a “pharmacist” who could “magically” make any ailment disappear. You had decided to move there on a whim after being exhausted from the high-paced nature of the big city.
You had spotted a small line of ghosts trailing after him on the night you had moved in. He had been on the way to the convenience store for a caffeine fix, and you had been on the way there to grab a couple of toiletries you had forgotten to pack.
You were so sweet, shyly approaching him under the guise of asking him if he could reach for a snack on a high shelf. But he could see your worried gaze fixed on the three spectral children climbing on his back, though he did nothing to shoo them away. After all, they had no mass, so as long as they didn’t lick his neck or something weird, he was fine with letting them be menaces.
When he had his back turned away from you to grab your snack, he could hear you quietly telling the ghosts to get off of him. They only laughed in response, their giggles always sounding a little muffled and distorted.
Yoongi plucked the bag of chips from the shelf and turned back to you, catching a glimpse of your annoyed expression before you could school it back into something more neutral.
“Is something the matter?” Yoongi asked smoothly, handing you the bag. He amusedly watched as your brows furrowed, not even hiding that you were glaring pointedly at the little gremlins making faces at you from his shoulder.
Jungkook, the youngest of the three ghosts, climbed on Yoongi’s head before proceeding to pull down his pants, mooning you with his spectral ass.
“Uh, nothing,” you eventually said, huffing indignantly as you stomped away. Yoongi caught you discreetly poking your tongue out in annoyance before you turned to another aisle.
Thus began your cautious attempts at exorcising him without trying to “alert” him to it. It was amusing to watch you try to “save” him from the three little ghosts that decided to cling onto him, and it was even more amusing to watch you fail repeatedly every time.
Yoongi made no comment when you were suddenly bumping into him everywhere he went. There was always a terse grin on your face as you performed as many anti-ghost spells as you could, but none of them ever seemed to work. The truth was, ghosts could only be exorcised if the haunted person in question wanted them to leave, but Yoongi had found himself a little fond of these stupid little kids. They might be slowly sucking the life force out of him, but Yoongi didn’t really care. They were just kids, and he’s always been too soft for his own good.
Your many encounters with him created a subtle friendship of sorts, one that Yoongi found himself enjoying. He was never been one to foster friendships with living beings, but perhaps your sweet attempts to save his soul might have defrosted his little grinch heart. But he wouldn’t ever tell you that, of course.
Plus, it didn’t hurt that you were very pretty, for that matter. He certainly would NEVER tell you that as well.
Was he feeling guilty for not telling you about his ability to see ghosts? Slightly. But was it cute watching you trying to outsmart three little ghost babies to no avail? Very much so.
So, Yoongi stayed quiet and enjoyed your company, even if you had no idea who he was or what type of things he was capable of.
That was until he got into that damn bet with the stupid bloodsucker.
Probably shouldn’t call him that, given that I’ve become one myself, Yoongi groaned internally. He’d been hiding in his house for a month now, and your “random” visits were surely on the horizon. He wasn’t sure if you’d immediately clock that he’d turned into a vampire, but he wasn’t going to risk it. If you found out, then you’d find out about everything, and that wouldn’t be a good impression.
Yoongi knew he wasn’t great at interacting with people, let alone people he had a crush on. But at least he knew that lying to someone for extended periods of time was probably not in his favor.
Little Jungkook fluttered close to him, his smoky form twinkling from the moonlight streaming through the living room windows. “When is the pretty witch coming to visit?” he asked, a little forlorn. Among the three ghosts, Jungkook was the one who’d grown attached to you the most. “I miss playing with her…”
Yoongi sighed, rubbing his face. “Hopefully never,” he responded, voice muffled by his hands. He peered through his fingers and saw the two other kids floating by his doorway.
Jimin, the older twin, nudged Taehyung forward to speak. “Y-Yoongi… I think she’s coming soon,” Taehyung whispered, a tinge of excitement evident in his tone.
“You can’t keep hiding from her forever… She's sure to find out anyway,” Jimin warned, uncharacteristically stern.
Yoongi stretched his tired limbs, his aching back cracking as he pushed himself off his sofa. Time moved weirdly ever since he turned into a vampire. This month had felt like a day, so it was hard to tell how long he'd been sitting so still. His creaking bones gave him an idea though, that's for sure. “I know… how much do I have to bribe you three to scare her away?”
Jungkook giggled, floating over to sit on Yoongi’s shoulder. “Nothing. We do that all the time for free,” he snickered.
Taehyung nodded in agreement. “It’s true… but she never seems to go away even when we do.”
“In fact, I know she thinks we’re cute,” Jimin said, and Yoongi couldn’t help but agree. Your cat and mouse game with the three idiots was probably past the point of annoyance and more towards the territory of playfulness. You likely noticed how they weren’t exactly the malicious ghosts that people feared, so you humored their antics.
(Yoongi hoped that you stuck around for him, too.)
“How much longer ’til she gets here?” Yoongi asked, walking to his bedroom. The air was stale inside the room, not having to use the bed as much as he once did. He opened his closet, trying to find some better-looking clothes than the threadbare robe he had decided to live in. He plucked a nice button-up shirt, before thinking better of it.
Am I really going to look like a stereotypical vampire when I meet her? What’s next, a cape?
“She’s a few blocks away,” Taehyung responded. The ghost paused, looking at the shirt Yoongi had put back. “No, wear that. She likes it when you wear that shirt.”
“She thinks you look regal in it,” Jimin agreed, grabbing his only pair of slacks. “These, too. She likes your butt in them.”
If Yoongi were still human, he’d probably blush. “I told you boys it’s rude to eavesdrop on her thoughts,” he scolded.
“You like the reassurance, though…” Jungkook muttered, but Yoongi ignored him.
“Two minutes away…!” Taehyung reminded him before disappearing. The two others followed suit, likely going to meet you before you arrived. Yoongi sighed, a headache slowly forming by his temple.
As promised, after two minutes, there was a knock from his front door. As Yoongi reluctantly approached and reached for the doorknob, he could hear you arguing playfully with his little friends.
“Taehyung, no pulling! I just got my hair fixed,” you whined. Despite your words, Yoongi could hear the affection in your voice, plain as day.
“You look really pretty today, noona…” Jungkook giggled, and Yoongi could imagine Jungkook placing a chaste kiss on your cheek in greeting. “Are you finally gonna tell hyung about your crush on him?”
“What are you talking about?!” you yelped. Yoongi heard something fall, then a string of curses from you. “Oh gosh, the food! I hope nothing spilled…”
“Don’t worry, noona. I doubt Yoongi hyung is hungry,” Jimin giggled slyly. “Unless you count how he’s hungry for you…”
Before you could reply to Jimin’s out-of-pocket comment, Yoongi swung open the door, an alarmed expression on his face. “H-hey, Y/N,” he began, a little awkwardly. He cleared his throat, trying to appear as if he hadn’t heard anything at all. “What do I owe this pleasure?”
You froze when Yoongi suddenly appeared. You were in the midst of rearranging the plastic bags of take-out food with your jaw agape, likely about to chastise Jimin for his rudeness. You floundered for a second before straightening up quickly. Your cheeks were a cute shade of red.
(Yeah, maybe he was a little hungry…)
“Yoongi! Oh god, sorry, I was just…” you stumbled for a moment, trying to figure out a way to explain yourself. Behind you, the three stooges grinned evilly, full of satisfaction.
“Do you need help?” Yoongi asked instead, bending down to gather your bags. The smell of take-out Chinese wafted into his nose, and he had to hide his growing smile. His favorite food, you had remembered. If he could eat, he’d be salivating.
“Yoongi hyung is salivating for a different reason…” Taehyung muttered, reading his thoughts. Yoongi and your eyes widened in alarm, causing the three kids to guffaw in response.
“Sorry, I was on the phone with somebody and the bags slipped,” you coughed, quickly grabbing the rest of the bags. In your haste, your hands accidentally touched, making you gasp in surprise.
“Gosh, Yoongi! Your hands are terribly cold! Are you alright…?” you asked, trailing off. When you tore your gaze away from his pale hand, you slowly turned to face him fully. Due to the uproar caused by the kids earlier, you hadn't been able to look at Yoongi properly since you arrived.
Yoongi braced himself, a terse smile on his lips.
You observed him silently, a mysterious emotion flitting through your face. Yoongi saw the way your gaze shifted to the injury on his neck, which he had recklessly forgotten to at least try to cover up. The dots were connecting, and Yoongi waited for you to make the first move.
To his surprise, you started by staring inquisitively at the kids. “Did you guys…?” you asked, suspicious. This was the first time you had openly addressed them in front of him, and Yoongi was shocked. Not only for that, but for also potentially thinking that they were to blame, somehow. Didn’t you trust them by now?
Jimin looked affronted, scoffing at your train of thought. “Us? Of course not! Why on earth would we do that to hyung?”
Jungkook huffed, wrapping an arm around your waist with a sad pout. “Yeah! Why would we hurt hyung on purpose? You don’t think we’d do that, right?” he asked, eyes watering with hurt tears.
Immediately, your expression softened. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean…” you trailed off, sighing. As if remembering where you were, you snapped back to reality, staring incredulously at Yoongi as if he’d grown three heads. Well, or turned into a vampire, he supposed.
“Yoongi! What on earth happened?” you asked, terrified for him. Or perhaps, terrified of him? Yoongi knew he should be feeling guilty, or embarrassed, or maybe a little ashamed, but all he could see was your worry for him, and his dead little heart would have skipped a beat if it still could. God, he was pathetic.
Instead of answering you truthfully, Yoongi chose to run away from his problems, like he always did. “It’s just a mosquito bite,” he explained lamely. He rubbed the very conspicuous marks in question, wincing slightly. It might have been a month since he turned, but it still felt as tender as it did the day it happened.
You stared at him, unimpressed. “In the middle of winter? When you rarely step out of your house?” you asked sarcastically. You gave him a steely glare. “Be serious with me for a second, Yoongi.”
But Yoongi couldn’t. He couldn’t tell you, or else he’d literally die a second death, from embarrassment or heartbreak, he couldn’t tell.
“I… I don’t actually know,” Yoongi lied. It was sort of true. He didn’t know that the stupid bet would actually mean he’d give up his soul to pay for an impossible debt. He had been swindled, that was it. He still didn’t understand how he could’ve been so stupid.
“He didn’t know he was stupid… what a joke,” Jimin murmured, causing the others to giggle in turn. You and Yoongi ignored them.
When he didn’t explain further, your shoulders slumped, defeated. You likely didn’t believe him one bit, but you were never the type to push. You were probably as shy as he was, which had caused its fair share of misunderstandings in the past. Most of the time, those misunderstandings helped Yoongi, though he often wished that he didn’t need them. One day, he’d be honest with you, but for now…
“May I come in, Yoongi? There’s something I have to tell you…” you started, eyes shifting behind you. The kids hovered closer, watching you with curiosity.
Yoongi felt the air turn colder, though he wasn’t sure if it was just him, the wind, or the ghosts doing it. Or maybe it was you.
Yoongi opened the door wider, gesturing for you to come in. “Please, make yourself at home…” he whispered before closing the door gently.
Outside, the three boys didn’t make a move to come in.
“Now… we wait,” Jimin whispered. The other two nodded, faces determined. They floated to the second floor of Yoongi’s villa, still keeping their ears to the floor. As much as they wanted to interrupt, they knew this was an important development for the two of you. They wanted to give you a false sense of privacy, but they could never stop themselves from hearing the gossip. God knows that these rascals would be bored without their daily dose of real telenovela romance.
In the living room, Yoongi took a seat as far away from you on the couch as possible. He laced his hands with an iron grip, forcing himself to stop any fidgeting.
Breaking the silence, you sighed tiredly. “So… where do I begin?”
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