#knowing fully well the shit he came back to the manor for was already gone!!!!

[boundlss]

i love the baccano anime so much i really do but the fact that it removes dallas's sole redeeming scene prior to the slash has left a piece of my soul fractured beyond return.

i mean, seriously. his one connection to love and care and kindness is eve. he'd play billiards with her every day of the damn year if he could. watching the animated scene where he yells at her and tells her to stop praying is literally stomach twisting in the worst possible way.

[arty-shadow-morningstar]

Graveyard Siblings (5)

[Masterlink] (PART 1) (PART 4)

-----

Mari and Cass sometimes switch their suits as they have the same body type. Cass would sometimes go out in full Hellbat gear and give the appearance that Hellbat is out more often than she actually is.

So Orphan/Black Bat also sometimes uses guns.

This also helps with concealing secret identities. Maria was rescued by Hellbat from Joker’s Henchmen. (Vicki Vale was getting sus of the new Wayne and Hellbat.)

Unfortunately since Hellbat rarely comes out and she had already made all of her appearance for the month and it wasn’t a busy weekend, the public had come to the conclusion that Hellbat has a crush on the newest Wayne.

Basically everyone thought that Mari has a crush on herself. Which led to some teasing and escalated to Mari announcing that Jason had a crush on Red Hood on live TV.

It didn’t help that a video of Red Hood and Jason re-enacting Romeo and Juliet with Jason on his apartment balcony and Red Hood on the roof was posted on the internet a few days later. (Thank you, Trixx and Tim’s awesome video editing skills)

Sadly, it was taken down 24 hours later. (Tim and the others have multiple copies of it, on the cloud or hardware, hidden around in the manor and their respective safehouses in the US.)

Some people kidnapped Jason to hopefully gain leverage over the Red Hood and to their dismay and nightmares for years to come, Hellbat came instead.

One lucky and incredibly brave reporter asked why she was there instead of her brother.

Mari being a little shit, “Red Hood may be a tough and scary guy but when it comes to his feelings, my brother is a chicken.”

Pictures of Jason tackling Hellbat somehow never made it into any papers.

The criminal underworld hasn’t taken a hint and Jason has been kidnapped a few more times.

Other times Jason was kidnapped:

Robin: Red Hood made a fool of himself in front of Todd recently and he doesn’t dare to show his face.

Spoiler: He was taking too damn long checking his hair even though I told him that no one was going to see it under his helmet and he was so offended that he is currently sulking in the bathroom.

Red Robin: Red Hood can’t think straight when he is around Jason. I mean have you seen the dude.

Arsenal*during a rare visit to Gotham*: Red Hood owes me one now.

Dick finally ends it by going out as Red Hood and rescuing Jason. Gotham is happy that Redson (Red Hood x Jason) ship has finally sailed.

-------

Kate, Babs, Cass, Steph and Mari were out on Mari’s first girls’ night since her move to the manor.

This is set a little after she came back from Paris with Jason.

They watched rom-com movies, did hair and nails, gossip about the superhero community and bitch and vent to each other.

Marinette off-handedly mentioned the crazy shits she had done during her stint as Ladybug. It started with asking about the T-rex in the Batcave and she mentions jumping into the mouth of a live one before.

Everyone in the room was shocked and after a few more questions, it was obvious that she was very reckless and self-sacrificing. Yep, she was going to fit into this crazy family just fine.

And Holy Shit. There is so much trauma packed into this kid. She needs lots of therapy.

Babs finally decided that they all needed to get out and have some fun. All in their respective suits and they went out.

Joined by Harley, Ivy and Selina.

Plagg came along because I want Plagg to meet Selina.

It was a chaotic night and it was a miracle that Bruce didn’t find out about what the girls did.

-------

Batman and Red Hood were on patrol together when Selina jumped in front of them.

“Hello, Boys”

“What do you want, Catwoman?”

“I want to meet my new prodigy, Kitty Noire.”

Cue Marinette jumping down from her hiding spot, transformed with the Black Cat Miraculous. “Hiya.”

Red Hood carries her like a potato sack and points his gun at the other two.

“Nope, she’s my sister and I called dibs. I adopted her. She’s off limits.”

“Legally, she’s mine.” Batman coughed out.

“I did it first. Emotionally. She’s my emotional support sister. You have plenty kids already, B and Selina, get your own.”

“Hey, I am still here and can hear you.”- Maria

-------

Alya was worried for Lila. She had been acting weirdly for the past month.

She looked very out of sorts. Her clothes weren’t in order and her hair was in disarray. She had bags under her eyes and her eyes looked wild. Lila didn’t look like herself at all.

She jumped at any sound and flinched at really sudden movements.

Alya tried to find out what was wrong with Lila and received vague answers.

One time Lila said that Marinette is to blame.

Alya reaches the somewhat right conclusion that Marinette was haunting Lila and hurting her because Lila used to come to school with bruises and claims that Marinette did it.

Alya goes to Marinette’s grave to desecrate it. (Yeah, go anger the ghost that is haunting someone.)

Unfortunately, the moment she tries to do something, the sky turns dark, clouds appear and the wind begins whipping. A Lightning strike near her and there was a cloaked figure beside her with a scythe.

All Alya saw from the figure was the blood-red lips in a very sharp grin and glowing blue eyes, raising the scythe high before she ran away. The scythe swiped the air where her head once was.

Alya didn’t get far before she tripped and blacked out.

When she woke up, she found herself in the hospital with no idea how she got there.

She was told that somebody found her with a concussion in the park and took her to the hospital.

------

The next one on Mari’s hit list was Natalie.

She wasn’t as involved in the whole thing like Lila, Adrien or Gabriel but she still did it anyways.

Her punishment is a little mild compared to the others and was more of a warning to Gabriel.

Natalie woke up in the middle of the night to see a not-so-dead Ladybug sitting on her vanity chair with the moonlight from the windows illuminating her body and her neck. Her suit was torn exactly like the day of that battle with blood dripping down her arms and from her open wounds. The shadows kept her face hidden but glowing blue eyes stared at her.

Natalie was scared at first. But she regained her normal cool composure.

“I assume you are here to extract your revenge for aiding in your unfortunate demise. But before you kill me, I regret my part in my entire thing and I apologize for everything I have done against you even though I knew it was wrong.”

“At least you show remorse over what you have done. Visiting my grave when even my parents didn’t and leaving flowers. I love those purple hyacinths by the way. Did you know that they mean sorry in the language of the flowers?”

“Why are you stalling my death? Just kill me already.”

“Madam Sancouer. You just played a minor role in my downfall compared to what Adrien and Lila Rossi did to me. And you showed more guilt over your actions than they ever did and Adrien claimed to have loved me. And like I have told the Bats, Death is too swift of a punishment.”

“Who are the bats?”

“None of your concern. You should be more concerned about yourself.”

“Lila sees the ghosts of her past and they haunt her. Adrien is in a living nightmare and has no control over his actions and is despised by everyone. What are you going to do to me?”

“Well, since you show some guilt over your actions, let me tell you a little secret. I am not dead. Not really. I mean I did die. But there was a spell in the grimoire that revived me. It took a few days to work.”

Marinette changed to her normal form. It was a little jarring to see an older Marinette Dupain-Cheng sitting on her vanity chair like it was a throne. The Ladybug suit and the wounds were gone. She looked a little familiar.

“Why are you telling me this? What was the point?” Natalie faltered as she wondered why the girl looked familiar. Marinette moved closer and her face was fully illuminated by the moonlight.

“I intend to take everything by which I mean everything from Gabriel Agreste for what he did.”

“M. Agreste just wanted his wife back. You just gave him your Miraculous, you would still have everything.”

“What difference would it make? Sure I had friends and family before but they turned out to be disappointing. I might have become a famous designer like I dreamed of and can't achieve because I died. Besides, he never said about wanting his wife to come back in his tedious monologues. For all we knew back then, he wanted them for world domination. He showed that he would end the world for them. For kwamis’ sake, he nearly started World War III, just for a pair of earring and a ring. He was willing to kill me to have her back. No wait, he did that too. If he actually read the translated grimoire or asked the Guardian or at least someone with magic for help instead or maybe used his head and made some who can heal as his champion using the Butterfly, we wouldn’t even be in this mess. Face it, Mme Sancour, your boss is a power-hungry and very controlling maniac who is also thankfully an idiot.”

“But- he- he just-. You are just a child, what do you know? M. Agreste knew what he was doing.”

“A child who had a normal life up until he tried to ruin it with his idiotic schemes and hiring Lila to do it. A child who had to fight a war on her own.”

“I am sorry you had to go through that but I doubt you and your little revenge rampage is going to solve anything.”

Ghostly Chains wrapped around Natalie’s body, squeezing tight like it was squeezing the life out of her.

“I was all for sparing you, you know. If you had actually listened to my side of the story, you would have spared from my ‘little revenge rampage’. This is going to be a little painful. Sorry about that.” In a tone that was definitely not sorry.

Pain coursed through Natalie’s body. Her skin crawled and itched as pitch back feathers grew out of it. Her bones turned to dust and reformed.

Where Natalie Sancour once was, there was a raven.

An omen of death and destruction for one Gabriel Agreste.

Marinette leaned down towards the raven. Natalie tried to peck her eye out but Marinette held the beak in a firm grip.

“Ah. ah ah. Luckily for you this is temporary. Mostly. Every night, you will assume this shape and each night the longer you will stay in this form. Slowly counting down the days until Gabriel’s downfall. Since you love helping him so much, you are going to help him know how long he has to live. The night you are a raven from sunset to sunrise, that sunrise starts the day Gabriel Agreste will be utterly destroyed.”

She released the beak and headed towards the window.

"Send him my regards."

With that, she was gone.

(Part 6)

[elementalwriter67]

Because I Care

Pairing: Klaus Mikealson x reader

Word Count: 6129

Summary: Klaus calls you to help you get the piece of the white oak stake out of him after Silas stabs him instead of Caroline, and the two of you end up having an argument that ends better than the two of you ever could have predicted.

A/N: So, I managed to stumble upon The Originals and it has now become my new love so please enjoy these while I still have the energy to write them.

 “Nik! I’m here, I got your five million messages! Where are you?!” You shouted as you stepped into the foyer of the Mikealson family mansion. You dropped your bag to the ground as you kicked the door closed behind you scanning the area for any hint of the aforementioned hybrid. You assumed that Klaus would be waiting for you in the foyer after the flurry of texts and missed phone calls you had gotten from the man so the fact that he wasn’t waiting for you was a bit of a surprise. 

“Go away!” Came Klaus’ faint response and you rolled your eyes before walking deeper into the house. ‘I swear if I skipped the rest of school just to hear about how Caroline was ignoring his romantic advances I’m going to scream,’ you thought to yourself as you headed towards his studio. 

“Come on Nik don’t be like that I’m sure whatever Caroline did now isn’t actually all that- Jesus fucking Christ what the hell happened to you?” You cut yourself off as you stopped in the doorway of his studio. There Klaus was shirtless and sitting curled up on the floor against the piano with his arms wrapped around his knees, sweat was coming off of him in waves, and there was so much pain and fear and uncertainty in his eyes that you felt your heart break once again at the sight of him. 

“Go away. I need more time. Stop hounding me!” Klaus growled out as he glared up at you and your brow furrowed as you looked at him. Shaking your head you walked towards him your hands held up in front of you in the least threatening manor as you could get it. 

“Nik, I need you to clam down and tell me what the hell happened to you and why you look like absolute hell.” You responded still moving closer to him despite the death glare that he was giving you, hiding behind that familiar mask of anger and death threats. He shifted back from you slightly disbelief now joining the other emotions you could just barely see behind his mask and your heart broke just a little bit more when he cowered back away from you. 

“(Y/N), is it really you?” He asked as you paused in front of him just a few feet away from him.

“Ah yeah? Who the hell else would I be?” You questioned him as you watched him struggle to pull himself together and up onto the piano seat besides him. His muscles shook as he forced himself to move and his breath shook as he sucked in a deep breath before finally meeting your eyes. 

“Prove it.” He bit out. You dropped your hands slightly and your eyes widened significantly. 

“I’m sorry… what?” Your voice came out a little harsher than you had intended it too, but you honestly couldn’t believe what had just come out of his mouth especially after he had just spent the past half hour blowing up your phone. 

“Prove it. Prove that you’re actually (Y/N),” Klaus demanded and you stood there for a few more seconds just staring at him in a stunned silence as you processed what he had just said. He really did mean it, he wanted you to prove that you where actually who you where and you sighed heavily as realization dawned on you. Running your fingers through your hair you took a step back from him as you looked towards ceiling for a second. You weren’t just dealing with a clearly hurt Klaus you were now dealing with a paranoid and hurt Klaus and as much as you cared about Klaus, loved him, you did not want to deal with him when he was like this. If he was hurt that was one thing but him being hurt and paranoid was never a good combination especially not with all the shit you’ve been juggling lately. What with school, work at the grill, this search for a cure for vampirism, helping Rebekah find Katherina, and listening to him talk and complain about Caroline all while keeping your mouth shut on how you really felt about it him was all beginning to get to be too much. 

“Listen Nik, I don’t know what the hell happened to you before I got here but let us not forget that you’re the one who blew up my phone telling me to get the fuck over here and I would be more than willing to help you right now but if you’re going to be like this then I’m going to leave you to fend for yourself.” You stated as you dropped your hands to your side and spun around, but you had only gotten a step away from him when you suddenly felt a hand wrapping around your wrist. 

“No! Wait! (Y/N) wait please.” Klaus pleaded to you as he held your wrist in a weak, clammy grip. Looking over your shoulder at him you bit the inside of your cheek, the mask was gone and back was the Klaus you knew. 

“I’m… I’m… It was Silas. He… stabbed me with the white oak stake and a piece of it is still inside of me.” Klaus bit out his voice thick with pain and his hand shaking just minutely around your wrist as he gave you a pleading look. Your blood ran cold as you turned around to face him fully your skin almost as pale as a vampire's.

“Th… that’s not good, that’s really not good Nik.” It was the first thing out of your mouth and mentally you were kicking yourself even as Klaus let out a dry, pain filled, chuckle as he let go of your wrist and took a step back from you.

“Yes love, I assure you I am well aware of that fact.” He bit out and you nodded your head as you began pacing in front of him.

“Right, yeah, of course you would know that I mean it’s only your one fucking weakness, of course you would know that this was a bad situation, how could you not know it’s a bad situation, I mean really what was I thinking in saying that, I honestly don’t know.” You rambled as you paced in front of him. You were too wrapped up in your own thoughts and making sure that you didn’t walk into any furniture to notice the small endearing smile that had come across Klaus face as he watched you freak out over the information that he had given you. And if this was any other day in any other situation he may have let you continue on because it was kind of nice to know you cared about him so much to get this freaked out over him getting hurt despite having seen him hurt multiple times before. 

“Love, breathe, you’re starting to panic and I’m fairly certain I’m the one who should be panicking right now.” He grit out the sentence as another wave of pain hit him, this one nearly sending him to his knees and he had to resist the urge to scream and reach behind him to try and dig the bastard piece out. Klaus groaning had you spinning around to face him again, your panic momentarily forgotten upon hearing him. Closing your eyes you took a deep breath and let it out in a slow long exhale before opening your eyes again and facing him. 

“Right. What do you need me to do?” You asked him as you stood up a bit straighter. He gave you a grim smile as he stood up as straight as he could get before gesturing to the coffee table besides him. Looking to the coffee table you frowned upon seeing a pair of already bloody plyers resting there. 

“I need you to help me get it out.” You nodded your head slowly as you walked over to the coffee table and picked up the bloody plyers. Looking back at him he gave you as much of a reassuring smile as he could upon seeing the concerned look on your face. Turning around he went and walked back over to the piano leaning against it he breathed in deep and exhaled mentally trying to prep himself for the increase in pain he was about to fell. 

You walked up behind him and took in a shaky deep breath of your own as you gripped the plyers tightly in one hand and placed your other on his good shoulder. There was no way this wasn’t going to hurt. 

“Sorry.” You muttered out just seconds before you plunged the plyers into the wound. Klaus’ reaction was immediate as he roared in pain, his hands tightening against the piano top so much that wood splintered slightly. You felt the muscle under your other hand tense as he fought the instinctive urge to throw you off of him and rip the offending piece of metal out of him.

Biting your tongue you resisted the urge to apologize again, knowing that it wouldn’t do any good and instead focused on trying to find the piece of white oak that was still inside of him. However after a couple of minutes searching around with the plyers your frowned, surely from the way he had described it you should have felt something, anything, and yet you hadn’t. ‘Where the hell is this thing?’ you thought to yourself as you pressed in a little deeper into the wound causing Klaus to growl lowly in pain but you ignored him as you continued your search.

“Stop moving.” You bit out when he shifted around for the fifth time since you had started this, causing the plyers to press up on his wound which only made the pain all that much worse and had him growling out again. 

“Well stop making it fucking hurt.” He fired back and you rolled your eyes as you pressed in a little deeper moving the tip of the plyers around to see if the white oak piece had somehow moved deeper into him as his body struggled to heal around it. You still couldn’t feel anything though. 

“Well maybe if you didn’t want it to hurt you should have gone to a hospital where they have drugs and actually tools that are meant to pull things out of people’s bodies instead of plyers and no drugs.” You sassed back, and this time Klaus growled in annoyance as he glanced over his shoulder at you. 

“And how would you suggest that I do that? By compelling the entire hospital to help me and then forget that I was even there, hmm?” You rolled your eyes at his response as you purposely pulled on the side of his wound. 

“FUCK!” He shouted as he banged his fist against the piano, surely leaving dents in it from how hard he was hitting it. 

“Don’t be an asshole.” You told him as you went back to digging around in his wound. He glared at you over his shoulder but you ignored him. If you were anyone else he would have killed you for what you just did, hell if you were even his sibling he most likely would have daggered you for your little stunt. But no you were (Y/N), brave, strong, caring, and kind (Y/N), you were his best friend, you were the one who he found constantly standing by his side no matter what he did because you saw something in him that even him and his family couldn’t see, you were the woman he found himself falling for, you were the woman who deserved so much better than him, so much better than the life he could give you. And so he let the comment go with a glare as he looked forward again gritting his teeth in pain. 

“Are you even sure there’s anything in there?” You asked after a long moment of silence. Using the flat side of the pliers you pressed against the side of his wound as you used your other hand to pulled against the other side and tried to peer down into the blood filled and constantly moving muscle wound to see if there was anything in there. 

“What are you talking about? Of course there’s something in there!” He shouted in response annoyed that you had yet to be able to find the piece of the white oak stake when it was so painfully clear as to where it was. 

“I’m telling you Nik, I don’t think there’s anything in there.” You pulled the pliers out of his wound watching as the muscles contracted and writhed with the desire to mend, to heal, but for some reason they didn’t.

“Well then maybe you’re not-FUCK!” He cut himself off when you suddenly jammed two of your fingers into the wound causing the pain to flare anew and for him to punch the piano again. You rubbed your fingertips against the sides of the wound feeling for any hint of a splinter, or a shard of the stake, or hell even the piece he was going on about but all you felt was torn muscle desperately trying to heal but unable to. 

“Yeah, no, there’s nothing in there Nik.” You stated as you pulled your fingers out of his wound and took a step back from him, and he spun around to face you. 

“What do you mean there’s nothing in there? I can all but feel the splinters making there way to my heart and you’re telling me that there’s nothing in there?” He all but growled out. You stayed where you were looking him in the eye even as you wiped your fingers off on your black t-shirt. 

“Yes I’m telling you that there’s nothing in there because there’s nothing in there, not even a fucking splinter so I don’t know what Silas did to you but he sure as hell didn’t leave anything inside you.” You told him as you kept wiping off your fingers trying to make sure the blood wasn’t noticeable when you got home. You had already incurred the wrath of your parents for skipping school you didn’t need them questioning why two of your fingers were bloody. 

“Bullshit there’s nothing in there, do you think I’m in this much pain because I want to be?” He growled out and you had to fight the urge to roll your eyes as you looked at him. You loved him, some days you didn’t know why you loved him, but you really did love him but by the gods did you hate having to deal with him when he was like this. 

“No Nik, of course I don’t think you’re in this much pain because you want to be but I don’t know what to tell you there’s nothing in there.” You reiterated hoping this time that he would get it through his head but all he did in response was snarl at you and you narrowed your eyes at him. He was on thin fucking ice. 

“Well perhaps you didn’t look hard enough!” You scuffed as you took a step back from him crossing your arms over his chest as you looked at him with an incredulous expression. 

“How much harder do you want me to look Nik?! Would you like me to flay open your back and dig around with a fucking vacuum to try and find the fucking piece of white oak?!” You shouted back fed up with the attitude that he was taking with you right now. You got it he was in pain, but christ that was no reason to treat you like you where fucking stupid not after everything that you had done for him these past few months. 

“Yes! If that’s what it takes to find this bloody thing then yes! Honestly it’s almost like you want me to die.” A heavy silence fell over the two of you as both you and Klaus stared at each other you in disbelief of what he had said and him in shock that those words had actually just come out of his mouth. 

You couldn’t believe him. You could not believe what he had just said to you, what he just had the balls to accuse you of. After everything that the two of you had been through together, after you spent night after night getting your heart ripped out as he complained about Caroline and how she just wasn’t accepting his advances, after you had dropped everything to come here and help him, after you had encountered the wrath of your parents, after you had stabbed him with a pair of cutters, endured him shouting at you for the past half an hour, after having jabbed our own fingers into his wounds in search of something that wasn’t even there. He had the nerve, no, the balls to accuse you of wanting him to die, your best friend, the man you loved despite all of his flaws, the man you still cared about despite everything that he had done since he’d come to this town. He had just accused you of wanting him to die, despite everything, and you couldn’t fucking believe him. 

Klaus starred at you with wide eyes, he hadn’t even realized that he had said the words until he watched a disbelieving look cross your face. Regret instantly filled him upon seeing your face and he opened and closed his mouth but nothing came out, he didn’t know what to do. He was afraid that if he said anything else it would only serve to make the situation worse but he knew that if he didn’t say anything that that would make the situation worse. But, for the first time in his life he didn’t know what to do and that scared him more than the piece of white oak stake left in his shoulder. He opened him mouth to say something, anything to you but before he could you were speaking. 

“No. No. You know what, you do not get to treat me like this. You do not get to yell at me for the past half hour and then accuse me of wanting you to die, not after everything that we have been through, not after every single time I have stuck by your side when I have every right to not have. You do not get to accuse me of wanting you to die you paranoid fucking hybrid!” You shouted at him your voice full of an anger that Klaus had never heard from you before and your eyes ablaze as you glared at him, not backing down from him no matter how angry he got. It was a trait of yours that he greatly liked, you not being afraid of him despite you being a normal human being that and your loyalty to him was something that he had never experienced before in his long long life time. Which was why he had no idea why he said what he said to you next. 

“Then why are you still here, huh? If you think I’m not treating you right then why are you still here?” He shouted at you and you huffed out an annoyed sigh as you ran your fingers through his hair. 

“Because I love you! Because for some fucking reason I love you and yet it’s so very clear that you don’t love me, that you don’t even care about me!” You screamed back and a surprised look came across your face. That wasn’t what you had meant to say, it wasn’t what you had wanted to say and yet it was what had come out of your mouth. As quickly as the shock had come it was replaced by fear and you where taking a step back from him your eyes filling with fear and your body tensing with the desire to run, to get away from him, you weren’t ready to hear his rejection, you weren’t ready to hear about how he didn’t love you, about how he loved Caroline despite everything she had said to him, you weren’t ready for it. You had to get out of here, you had to get away from him, you couldn’t deal with this not right now. So you spun on your heal and ran leaving a stunned Klaus in your wake.

Klaus stood there his eyes wide, mouth agape, and his thoughts going a mile a minute as he stared at where you had just been standing. He fucked up, he fucked up, he fucked up, he fucked up, the thought raced through his mind as his body seemed to unfreeze and he started pacing the length of the room. Running his fingers through his hair he grabbed fistfuls of it along the way as he paced, he had fucked up, he had royally fucked up. Not only had he treated you like shit yelling at you and screaming at you and of accusing you of the worst possible thing he probably could have ever accused you of, but you had just professed his love for him. You had just told him you loved him, the thing he had only dreamed of you saying, and he had just stood there like a fucking idiot with his mouth open watching as you ran out of the room.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!” Klaus roared as he grabbed the nearest throwable object and hurled it against the wall watching as the vase shattered against the wall. Turning away from the wall he grabbed ahold of the table flipping it over as he went back to stalking the length of the room his chest heaving and hands clenching and unclenching as he mentally berated himself for being that much of an idiot. Picking up another vase he threw it against the wall before running his fingers through his hair gripping it tightly. 

He needed to make this up to you, needed to do something to show you how much he regretted how he acted. He… he… he couldn’t lose you. He couldn’t lose you not you of all people, he couldn’t lose you, he could handle the lose of his siblings he would be angry, betrayed, and above all hurt, but he would move past it he would get them back eventually, but you, with you there was no guarantee that he would ever get you back. You were human, your life had an expiration date, if he didn’t get you back now then he quiet possibly could never get you back and he couldn’t have that. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he lost you, he wouldn’t be able to recover from that. So he had to fix this, he had to find a way to fix this. Maybe if he bought you dinner from your favorite dinner on the outskirts of town, some chocolates you always talked about how much you loved chocolate, and… flowers, yeah, yeah flowers would work what girl didn’t like getting flowers? Yeah, yeah that would all work, it would work, it had to, if it didn’t he wasn’t sure what he was going to do. 

With his mind made up Klaus made his way to his room taking the stairs two at a time his face set with determination. It wasn’t until he was standing in his room rummaging through his dresser looking for a shirt to wear to your house that he realized the pain had stopped and he froze his hands still gripping the shirts as he looked up. Letting go of the shirts he walked into his ensuite bathroom, turning around so his back faced the mirror he looked over his shoulder to see that the wound had completely healed.

“Fuck.” Klaus breathed out before turning around and rushing out of the bathroom, grabbing a shirt at random he threw it on as he raced out of his bedroom. He was going to have to make this one hell of an apology now more so than ever. 

~Later That Evening~

You sighed as you ran your fingers through your hair, falling back against the couch as you looked down at your homework that was spread out on the coffee table in front of you when you head a knock on the front door. Groaning you let your head fall back as you stared up at the ceiling, you really, really, really did not want to go and answer that door. You parents had just left for the evening to go enjoy a nice dinner that was supposed to be a family thing to celebrate your father’s promotion at work it was supposed to be a fun and relaxing night. Only you had skipped out on school so instead of it being relaxing your parents had spent and hour berating you about skipping school and how they expected better from you and then finally grounding you for the rest of the week before leaving in hopes of salvaging their night. So needless to say after all that, plus the earlier events, your desire for human interaction was severely lacking and you had every intention of ignoring the person until they went away however when the person at the door knocked again you knew you weren’t going to get off that easily. Huffing out another sigh you pushed yourself up off the couch and made your way to the door, your bitchy reply however died in your throat when you saw who was standing on the other side of the door. 

There Klaus stood on the other side of the door way with, what could only be described as, a sheepish smile on his face. He was holding bag of take out food from your favorite dinner in one hand, and a box of chocolates from what you were sure was the fanciest and most expensive chocolate store that he could find, a bouquet of flowers in the other. You looked him up and down watching as he shifted nervously, for once in his life at a loss of words as he just watched you look him over before your gaze settled on his face. The two of you stared at each other for a long while neither of you knowing what to say.

“If this is anything but an apology then I don’t want to hear it.” It came out of your mouth before you could stop it and mentally you kicked yourself, you shouldn’t have said that yet it was out there and you didn’t entirely regret what you said. And judging by the look that flashed across Klaus’ face he didn’t entirely disagree with what you had said. 

“It’s an apology.” He confirmed and you nodded your head stepping to the side you gestured with your hand. 

“Come in.” You said and the corners of Klaus’ lips twitched up in a would have been smile as he stepped into the house. The invitation wasn’t necessary, it hadn’t been necessary for a long time and yet you still said it whenever he came over. It was a small subtle reminder that he was always welcome here and the fact that you had still said it even after everything that had happened today meant that he hadn’t completely fucked himself over. 

Closing the door behind him you silently walked back to the living room sitting down on the couch as Klaus came to stand off to the side not sure if he should join you on the couch or stand in front of you. The two of you stayed there in awkward silence once again as Klaus tried to figure out the best way to start this conversation that wouldn’t end up with his foot in his mouth. 

“I… um… here.” Klaus mumbled out as he held out what he’d brought for you to take. You raised an eyebrow at him, fighting back the sudden urge to smirk at him as you took the offered food. Setting the chocolate and flowers down on the couch next to you, you pushed your homework out of the way before setting the take out down on the table. However instead of opening the bag you sat back on the couch and looked up at him waiting for him to say anything, just because you’d taken the things from him didn’t mean you had accepted anything a fact that he knew all too well. Licking his lips Klaus looked away from you for a moment before he looked back at you taking in a deep breath before saying anything. 

“I just wanted to say that I’m… that I’m… I’m…” Klaus muttered a curse under his breath as he looked away from you and took a step back from you rubbing his face with his hands before pushing his fingers through his hair. You watched Klaus only amazed at how nervous he was voluntarily being and you couldn’t remember a time in which he had ever looked this nervous before. 

“I shouldn’t have treated you the way that I did, you were right about the fact that after everything we’ve been through together that you deserve to be treated better and I had no right to say what I did especially not when you were just trying to help me.” He stated his voice surprisingly steady. Your eyes widened slightly at his words, you honestly hadn’t been expecting that from him. When he had told you that this was an apology you thought that it would be a Klaus apology one where he handed you the gift and then just expected you to forgive him you hadn’t actually expected him to admit to what he did wrong that just wasn’t what Klaus did. And to be quiet honest you weren’t exactly sure what to say to that, luckily though he wasn’t going to give you a chance to try and say anything. 

“But, you were also right about the fact that there wasn’t anything in the wound. Silas he… he got into my head made me believe that I was dying, that I actually had a piece of the white oak stake still inside of me but there was never anything there, you were right.” He said and your eyes widened significantly.

“Fuck.” You breathed out as you rubbed your face keeping your hand over your mouth as you looked away from Klaus for a moment. This wasn’t good, this really wasn’t good, if Silas could get inside of Klaus’ head and make him, of all people, think that he was dying then there was no telling what he could make the rest of you see. What he could make the rest of you do. 

“So while you may revel in the fact that you were right about something over me,” He started out with and a scowl was instantly on your face as your gaze snapped back to him, and he winced at the look you shot his way. There was his foot and there was his mouth and he really needed to learn to control that cockiness. “You were wrong however about the other thing.” He finished off. 

The scowl instantly fell from your face at his words as you remembered the last half of the argument that the two of you had. You felt your cheeks heat and you were sure that your face resembled that of a tomato as you absolutely refused to look at Klaus as you stared at the floor trying desperately to hide your blush. Of all the ways that you had imagined telling Klaus how you felt about him that had certainly not even been one that crossed your mind and there was nothing you wanted more than for the floor to swallow you whole right now. As if this night was bad enough you now had to add on the fact that Klaus had just told you that you were wrong about… 

“W… w… wait what?” You stuttered out as you looked up at him in surprise and Klaus couldn’t help the small smirk that spread across his face and he gestured with his head towards the seat next to you and silently you moved the flowers and chocolates a confirmation to his question. 

“You were wrong about me not caring about you, in fact I believe that you are the only person that I truly do care about you and I don’t just care about you (Y/N) I… I love you.” There was a vulnerability to way Klaus was holding himself, in the way that he had said his confession, a fear in the way that he refused to look at you as he all but handed him your heart to stake. You stared at him in complete and utter disbelief of what he had just told you and you couldn’t stop the hope from forming in your chest that he actually meant what he had just told you. There was just one big obstacle stopping you from fully believing what he had just told you. 

“But what about… what about Caroline? I thought you fancied her?” You hesitated, afraid that he would confess that he was pulling your leg and you knew Klaus had the capacity to be an asshole but he couldn’t be that much off an asshole, could he? Klaus licked his lips as he ran his fingers through his hair glancing away from you quickly before looking back at him, making you even more nervous than before. 

“Caroline was nothing more than a distraction for me, someone to focus on to distract myself from the fact that I believed I could never have you, that you could never love me, Caroline was never anything more than a distraction.” His voice was sincere and while your heart soared at that information and your brain berated you for taking joy out fo the fact that Klaus had all but used another girl. There was still this little voice in the back of your head that whispered, oh so annoyingly in your ear, that there was a chance that this was all just a lie, that you were the one Klaus was going to use as a distraction from his feelings for Caroline and that you two would only ever be friends. Klaus watched in confusion as the large smile that had spread across your face faded into a frown and he felt his undead heart speed up, this was where things went wrong, this was where the universe fucked over Klaus like it so often did. 

“So is that all I am to you? A distraction until the next girl comes along or until Caroline starts returning your feelings? Because if that’s all this is to you Nik then this is really, really-” Klaus cut you off as he pressed his lips against yours his hands coming up to gently cup your face. Your eyes widened in shock and surprise as your brain shorted out. Klaus had just begun to pull away from you when your brain seemed to recover and in the next second you where grabbing a hold of the front of his shirt and pulling him towards you as you kissed him back. After what felt like minutes the two of you finally parted Klaus with a smug look on his face and you panting heavily.

“I assure you, love, that you are far more than just a distraction to me.” He muttered under his breath just loud enough for you to hear as he pressed his forehead against yours. You couldn’t stop the shy smile that spread across your face as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer which caused his smug look to morph into a grin.

“You really mean it?” You questioned him as you toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck. He pressed a brief kiss to your lips, the two of you grinning into it glad to finally be doing something you had both fantasied about for months now.

“Yes.” Was his response when he pulled away and your smile only grew.

“Good.” You stated before gripping the back of his neck and pulling him crashing down on top of you as you kissed him with all the passion and fire that you had been hiding away. He kissed you back with just as much passion and fire his hands moving from your cheeks down to your waist as he laid you back against the couch. For a day that had started out so shitty you certainly couldn’t have asked for a better ending.

[just-my-fandom]

Death Awaits (Vanya Hargreeves x Reader)

Summary; When Vanya Hargreeves wife is put in a coma thanks to Hazel and Cha-Cha, the apocalypse arises. The other Hargreeve siblings must do all they can to stop the apocalypse, starting with making sure Y/N wakes up from her coma.

Request; Umbrella Academy Vanya story- where reader isn’t apart of the 43 children but she has powers, and she is with Vanya when Cha Cha and Hazel attack the manor, and she helps the others fight them off-her powers being able to control earth, and water, and air to where she can like cut off people’s breaths lmao fiesty- but Cha Cha gets a shot at the reader and Vanya has to watch the reader collapse with blood loss? Thanksss

Request 2; I know you said you haven’t watched Season 2 yet (Or even finished Season 1) but AH please write a story with Vanya where the reader somehow finds Vanya after they are thrown into the 1960s and Reader actually lands with Vanya and she’s scared Vanya won’t remember her?

Warning(s); Gunshots, fighting, near death, angst.

A/N; I finally finished the show! I had a lot of fun doing this story. It is EXTREMELY long. Sorry.

Another A/N; Leonard is JUST A FRIEND. Like, reader and Vanyas best friend kinda shit.

Date started; Demember 16, 2020

Date published; December 16, 2020

. . .

“Too high,”

Vanya grunts in slight irritation at your comment. Her hand slides up her violin to fix the miss-pitch of her note, eyes barely glancing at where you sat on her bed in the manor.

Your legs gently swayed, wearing black riding boots- acquaintanced with a checkered shirt you had bought not too long ago with dark jeans. Leaning on your knees, you watch as Vanya repeated her line of notes, smiling when the wrong note is now fixed,

A slight jerk of her hand causes Vanyas note to hit too low, her shoulders dropping in defeat as she huffs a breath, “It’s never right,”

“Not if you give up that easily,” You raise an eyebrow, your wife copying your motion, “Breathe, baby. You’ve got this. There’s no one else in the room but me,”

Vanya smiles, tilting her head down before raising her violin to her shoulder, starting from where she had first messed up.

A muffled gunshot directs your attention to the door, going unheard by your wife due to the music right against her ear, so when she sees your brows pinch and your body move to stand up, she stops to watch, “What is it?”

On cue, two more gunshots ring, louder, Vanya setting her violin down gently enough despite being in a rush, following after you with you already feet ahead,

You skid to a stop at the bottom of the stairway, two masked figures standing back to back with Luther on one side, Diego on the other, and Allison opposite of you,

“Stay back,” You demand to the woman behind you, Vanyas eyes shifting to the back of your head before she steps back, moving to the empty hall feet from her,

You move three steps forward before raising a hand, fingers curling as you watch the earth under you raise, the masked killers looking down when the ground cracks beneath their feet, both pushing away from each other to avoid being dropped into the earths crust, now raising their guns to you,

A gust of wind forces their guns into the air and behind them, free hand raising to throw off their masks, revealing one male, and one female,

Your fingers clench on your left hand to wrap an invisible field around the males neck, his hands instantly raising in reflex in an attempt to pry the false pressure off,

Before the woman could run back for her gun, a bubble of water wraps around her head, and the Hargreeves siblings are forced to watch her hold her breath in a panic,

“What do you want?” You hiss, moving closer to slightly drop the water from her mouth, allowing her to gasp in a choked breath,

“We just want the boy,” Cha-Cha spits, your eyes narrowing- Five. “And we’ll be on our merry way,”

“Well he’s not here,” You flick your hand to where Cha-Cha is thrown back into the wall, turning your attention to the male, Hazel. He has now turned blue due to his circulation for air being cut off, a slight smile in your face.

You drop your hand so Hazel dropped forward with his hands on his knees, gasps wheezed as he coughs and hacks for air. You lift both hands so walls of rocks came from the ground, pinning at his sides so he yelled in pain at the pressure of his body.

Then you feel it. Vanya sees it. They all see it. Your powers screech to a halt when the bullet pierces the front of your shoulder, the bolders dropping to release Hazel to collapse, your eyes widening when you see Cha-Cha lower her used gun.

Diego is first to lunge forward, catching the top half of your body before you could fully collapse, your vision already falling black before Vanya could make it to your side,

“Y/N!” Vanyas voice is high pitched, breathy, in alert, “Oh my God,”

“Get Grace,” Luther demands, jabbing his finger to Allison, who stood in high alert,

“Now!” Diego and Vanya shout, Vanya pulling off her button up so she was left in her sweater, pressing the button up to where your white and black shirt was already stained dark red,

Vanya forces herself to look up to your face, eyes shut and skin pale, Diego’s finger pressing to your neck in search for a pulse,

“We can’t wait for Grace,” He hisses, moving to lift you off the debris littered floor, Vanya following, staring at the blood that stained the ends of her sleeves,

She’s quick to follow after her brother, the robot she called her mother calmly waving Diego into the medical room that had been used too many times, Diego lowering your body into the table so Grace cut the front of your shirt, revealing the bullet wound that Vanya forced herself to look away from,

“Pogo,” Grace calls, softly, pulling on gloves as she glanced to the ape, “Please escort the children out,”

“Wait,” Vanya pleas, brows pinched as she steps up to the table, but Diego is swift to catch her at her front, leading her backwards to the door Luther and Allison stood, “I need to be with her,”

“Grace has excellent medical experience. Miss Y/N is in great hands,” Pogo reassures, Vanyas eyes snapping up to your face, before she allows the door to shut, her chest tight with fear.

. . .

“I always knew your family having powers was weird,” Leonard lowers his steaming cup from his lips, frowning, “But now it’s just scary,”

“I know,” Vanya murmurs, stirring her cup mindlessly, “Y/N was just trying to protect my family,”

“How-,” Leonard clears his throat, “How is she? By the way,”

“She’s resting. At home. She hasn’t woken up yet,” Vanya shuts her eyes, pressing her hands to her eyelids, “My tryouts for the front chair is this afternoon. I don’t know if I can do it,”

“Dont do that,” Leonard shakes his head, Vanya lowering her hands to pinch her brows, “Dont put yourself down because Y/N isn’t physically here. Just,” Leonard pauses, hand waving in thought, “Is there anything that Y/Ns ever said that just- stuck to you?”

“Breathe, baby. You’ve got this. There’s no one else in the room but me,”

Vanya smiles, nodding, slowly, “Yeah. Just this one thing. It’s always been a constant reminder she gives me when I’m rehearsing. No one else but her is in the room. Even when someone else really is in the room,”

“See?” Leonard chuckles, sipping the last bit of his coffee, “Y/N gives off that effect to make you believe what she says. She knows it’s a sense of comfort for you,”

“She’s always been good at that,” Vanya murmurs, watching Leonard set down his mug and nudge her arm, standing up,

“C’mon. I’ll walk you home. We can get your apartment nice and cozy for when Y/N gets back,”

. . .

“What is your name again?”

Vanya regrets it. She regrets everything. Coming to this audition, letting you nearly give your life for her family. She regrets it.

“Vanya,” She cant stop how low her voice is, but the conductors booming, louder, please, demands her to state, “Vanya Hargreeves,” Four notes higher.

“Right,” The conductor clicks his tongue, looking up at Vanya on the stage which makes her want to run off, “Well?”

“Breathe, baby,” Vanya nearly hears you say, as she lifts her violin to her shoulder, “You’ve got this,” She raises her bow, “There’s no one else in the room but me,” And plays,

She finishes her last note with a pause, terrified of opening her eyes, but when she does and sees the conductor staring at her in awe, she can’t help the breath she lets out, head tilting back with a smile of relief.

She had gotten the front chair.

. . .

A short gasp enters your lips. Whining out in pain, you force your head to the side. Home. How did you get here? The academy-

You sit up, shortly, crying out at the sting of pain it caused to your shoulder, eyes pinching shut before you raise your head, looking around.

“Three new voice messages,” The voicebox of your phone startles you to cover your face, heaving out an exhausted breath, “Hey, Y/N. Just checking on you in case you wake up and I’m not home,” Vanyas voice speaks, your head raising. “I’m currently at rehearsal, on March 29th, about four in the afternoon. I love you. Call the Academy or the theater if I’m not home,”

“Y/N, it’s Allison. I haven’t heard from you, not sure if you had woken up. But if you have, please call me back. Vanyas went missing. I think she’s with Leonard,”

“Leonard?” You push off the bed, stumbling into the kitchen. You lean against the wall beside the phone, running a hand down your face. Vanyas keys were gone. As was her violin,

“Hey, Y/N?” Diego’s voice comes next, “You remember that apocalypse? Yeah. Vanyas the cause. Get your shit together and meet us at the theater the night of the concert. We need you,”

Your eyes widen, flickering around for your shoes before you grab your keys, moving out the door with a shaky hand on the door, “That’s tonight,”

. . .

“What the hells going on?” Your voice startles four of the Hargreeve siblings to turn around, all watching you rub your patched shoulder,

“Y/N!” Klaus cheers, arms up, “Youre awake!”

“Vanya has powers,” Luther hisses, your eyes flicking to him, “She’s out of control, starting with slicing Allison’s neck,” He jabs a finger to said woman, where you see a patch at her neck,

“Why are we here?” You exhale, Diego stepping up,

“The apocalypse starts today. And you had hell of fucking timing waking up. You’re going to be our distraction,”

“Distraction, how?” You demand, Allison holding up her finger before jotting down words on her notepad,

She’s been scared you wouldn’t wake up. She may calm if she sees you.

“What triggered them?”

“Leonard?” Diego questions, “Yeah. He manipulated her for her powers. Good thing he’s dead now, huh?”

“Leonard’s dead?” You hiss, Luther shaking his head at you,

“We don’t have time. You need to go. Vanya needs to see you,”

You nod, shaking your arms out and wincing at the pull it gave your shoulder, moving forward to the entrance to the audience.

Your footsteps remain slow as you move down the walkway, eyes firm on Vanyas seated figure at the front of the stage. Her eyes remained a bright blue- nearly white, on her paper.

Her eyes flick up at the sight of movement, meeting your own so you stop your footsteps, smiling tearfully at where she sat. Her lips pull into her own smile, pausing slightly,

“There’s no one else in the room but me,”

Her hand is quick to catch up to her song, your feet moving back down the walkway, screeching to another halt when her head snaps to the side, in time for Diego and Luther to rush out onto the stage,

You watch in alarm as she stands up, a wave of blue thrown off her bow so Diego and Luther are knocked off the stage, the audience around you shrieking in fear and running off in large groups,

“Vanya!” You call, over the panicked shouts of the men and women around you, moving up to the stage, “Baby! I’m here!”

Her glowing eyes force themselves to look down at you, waving her bow so the musicians behind her sat back down, her jaw clenching,

“Y/N, get down!” A rough tug on your injured arm causes you to cry out, Vanyas eyes opening to see Diego pull you behind a row of seats, your back falling against his chest with a short gasp, your hand pressing to your shoulder,

“I need to get to her!” You heave, looking across the walkway to Luther and Allison, “She’ll listen to me!”

Allison shakes her head, gesturing to her own arm. “Screw the gunshot wound,” You hiss, Diego’s attempt to catch your arm when you stand up failing, where you stand in the middle of the walkway,

Luther and his siblings are quick to surround you, “Here’s how it goes!” Luther starts, “We go at her from all angles,”

“I call front,” You state, moving around him to jump onto the stage, stopping feet from your wife, “Vanya!” You plea, hand up as she continued to play, her suit now white, “Baby- it’s me! I’m okay!”

Her eyes don’t leave yours as you take another step forward, before she raises her bow, your body quick to drop before the wave of blue could hit you, the four boys behind you lifted into the air, her power quick to suck the life from their bodies,

You look up in a panic, pushing to stand up in a rush, crying out when a gunshot rings through, dropping the four brothers to the ground. Your arms jolt out to catch Vanyas fallen figure, your shoulder screaming in pain as you lower yourself to your knees, Vanyas head rested in your lap,

“Vanya!” You cry, hand running down her hair as your free pressed to her neck, “No! No, baby-,”

Your sob cuts short when feeling her pulse and no blood, looking up at Allison behind you with a false gun in her hand. “You didn’t shoot her,” You choke out, looking back down to the woman in your hands, “Oh, my god,”

You lean down, lips pressing to Vanyas forehead, sniffling as you clutched her hand in yours on her chest, “I’ve got you, sweetheart. You’re okay,”

“We did it,” Luther heaves, Klaus moving to point at the window in the ceiling,

“Then what’s with the giant moon rock flying towards earth?”

You look up, eyes blurred with tears, sniffling as you look back down to your wife, fingers tucking her hair away from her eyes.

“So much for saving the world,” Klaus mumbles, your head leaning against Vanyas as your eyes shut, hiccuping.

“This doesn’t have to be the end,” Five rushes, moving next to you and Allison knelt by you, “I have a way out of here. I just need you to trust me,”

“Five,” You call, now looking at him, “I trust you,”

You feel your body lift off the stage, Vanyas body leaving your arms so you flailed in mid air, yelping when you are dropped onto the concrete just seconds later

Dallas, Texas, 1963

“Shit,” You whisper, looking up at where the blue vortex vanished, “Shit. Shit! Vanya!”

“Miss?” You look over, to a blonde woman standing with her son, panic on her face, “I have a woman saying her names Vanya. Might she be who you’re looking for?”

“Oh my gosh,” You mutter, nodding as you push off the floor and follow her to her car, where you see two bystanders helping Vanya off the floor, “Hey! Vanya, are you okay?”

“I think so,” She murmurs, taking your arms as she stands, her eyes flicking to your patched chest, “What happened to you?”

“You don’t remember?” You whisper, brows furrowed, your hand sliding to her cheek. You turn to face the woman from before, “Ma’am, do you have somewhere we can go? She needs to be checked up on,”

“Did I cause it?” The woman, Sissy, panics, moving up to you, “I didn’t see her, I swear,”

“It’s okay,” You breathe, and look back to Vanya, your eyes teary, “You’re okay,”

She nods, warily, letting Sissy move you to her car.

. . .

“I’m sorry, I still don’t understand,” Vanya exhales, leaning forward on the couch you both sat on in Sissy’s house, “We’re married?”

“Yes,” You nod, licking your lips in fear, “Is that okay? We- we don’t have to,” You pull your hand from where you reached for her own, Vanya shaking her head as she takes your hand, tightly,

“No- I mean- yes, it’s okay,” She smiles, your own lips pulling upwards, tiredly. You lean forward, allowing your forehead to knock hers.

“You two look like you’ve had a long day,” Sissy speaks up, handing you a cup of (favorite/warm/drink), “I only have one guest bedroom,”

“I can take the couch,” You heave, reassuringly, Vanyas brows pinching as she tugs at your hand,

“We can share, Y/N,”

“You barely remember me,” You murmur, clenching your jaw and laughing, tearily, “Why would you want to sleep with a woman who you don’t know?”

“I may not know you but I trust you,” Vanya states, raising your hand and hers to show the rings you had, “You say we’re married. I will keep trying to regain my memories as long as I can to remember our wedding day,”

Your eyes flick up to hers, smiling, weakly, with a nod, sniffling as tears began to refill your eyes. Your hand raises to wipes your cheek, Vanyas smile dropping in worry as her hand touches your jaw, directing your attention to her, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” You whisper, shaking your head, “It’s just been a very long day,”

You suck in a deep breath and sniff, looking up at Sissy who smiled, sympathetically, “Do you kind if I borrow your shower? And maybe some help rewrapping this?” You lift your bandaged shoulder, Vanyas hand falling from your face to her lap as Sissy nods, gesturing you to follow her down the hall.

You run a hand through your damp hair, silently shutting the bedroom door behind you,

Your eyes shift to Vanya on the bed, resting in a pair of Sissy’s clothing, same as you, “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” You move to the bed, Vanya looking up at you- finally seeing the exhaustion in your eyes. What had happened to you today?

“Of course,” Your wife murmurs, extending her hand for you to take so you slide underneath the covers,

“I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” You whisper, now on your side to face her, “You don’t even know me,”

“But I feel like I do,” Vanya corrects, watching as the tear in your eye slipped from the corner and down your nose, “I’m trying to understand, but I can’t do that without you,”

Your lips purse to stop the sob in your throat, hand raising to cover your pinched eyes. “Hey,” Vanya panics, shaking her head as she slides her hand to the back of your head, guiding you to rest against her chest, “No no, please don’t cry. I’m sorry,”

You let your arm slide to her backside, tightly, hiccuping against the skin of her collarbone, “No, I’m sorry. I’m so emotional and tired, and I want things to go back to normal,”

“I know,” Vanya brushes her lips against your hair, her free hand dragging her nails soothingly across your upper back, “We don’t have to talk about it anymore. What do you want me to do?”

A pause, “Just hold me,” You whisper, leaning your head back to look at her, “Please,”

Vanya nods, quickly, her eyes flicking to your lips before she looks back up to your eyes, your body pushing forward to force your lips against hers.

Vanya exhales sharply against your mouth, her fingers tightening in your hair as you peck her lips, once, twice, barely pulling away so you still felt her breath on your skin,

“I love you, Vanya. I wish I could’ve helped you,”

Vanyas brows pinch, wanting to question what you had meant, but she only finds herself pulling you back in, allowing her lips to recollide with your own, slow against the darkness of the bedroom.

[dadsbongos]

It’s in the Walls

Movie/Game/Show: The Boy

Dynamic: Brahms Heelshire/Reader

Warnings: you got a whole ass man living in your house without you knowing, you’re a mom

Summary: There’s a large house up for sale on a massive price-cut, who wouldn’t take that deal?

~~~

“Mom!” the shriek was high-pitched and echoed through the winding walls of the maze the manor made itself out to be.

(Y/n) closed her eyes, pretending the scream didn’t happen for a few seconds of cheap bliss before breaking back into her mothering persona. She crept down the corridors, reminding herself to take down every painting on the wall, the eyes followed her. Eventually, she came into her younger son’s new room, leaning her body against the doorway.

The blond child was huddled in a box pressed against the right wall, his small body curled tightly into itself inside the cardboard. He looked to his mother, large blue eyes sprinkled in delight that she came. Pointing to his bed, he murmured, “I saw a rat.”

“What?” she muttered, the realtor said the rodents that only stuck to the yard, but of course, that was a lie, “Oh, sweetie, come here,” the boy stumbled out of the box and grabbed onto his mother’s extended hand, “I’ll take care of him, you go make sure Joey hasn’t lost in mind in the library, okay?”

“Thank you, Dylan,” she cooed, pressing a short kiss to his forehead before sending him off.

His pink lips, shaped nearly identically to his father’s, stretched into a large grin,

“Okay, Mama!”

As soon as her son was gone, the smile drooped and suddenly she felt the weight of her eye bags drawing on her face. (Y/n) carefully approached the bed before getting onto her hands and knees, pulling up one of the draping blankets to peek underneath. A squirming, round, fat little frame poked out in the darkness before it squealed and began scurrying away.

Her hand shot out and she squeezed the fatty body between her fingers, grimacing at the rat in her hand. She never hated the things, they just never piqued her interest in the best ways, either. It thrashed and scratched at her, a small hiss leaving the woman before she tossed one of the windows open and left the rat on the sill outside to crawl away. Shutting and locking the window once again, (Y/n) made another mental note to get rat traps. Unless there were already traps.

Exiting the room, (Y/n) huffed at every creak in the wooden planks of the floorboards. The manor was old, oh, so old, it only made sense that none of the wooden boards would be silent. Even so, it was annoying and she liked to think she had the right to complain.

Eyes drifting to paintings and peeling wallpaper, she tried to remind herself to be thankful. Divorce wasn’t easy, much less so when your ex was a greedy, manipulative joke that milked you for nearly all of your possessions - she was lucky to find the mansion. Especially at such an astoundingly low price - she doubted a typical house would be cheaper than what she got the place for. None of those houses came fully-furnished anyway. Admittedly creepy and strange, but you shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, you might not like what you see.

As (Y/n) scanned through cupboards and cabinets, a loud thud alerted her of a new presence in the kitchen. She shot up, banging her head on the interior of a cabinet, her hand settled on the tender curve of her skull, softly rubbing as she stood. At the counter was her elder son, black-dyed hair messy and glasses slipping down his nose.

“Hi, honey,” (Y/n) chuckled at his frazzled appearance, “just get done wrestling one of the stuffed bears?”

Joey rolled his eyes, thumping a thick, hard-cover book against the granite countertop, “No, actually, I was looking for my shoes. Where are they?”

The woman shrugged, “How am I supposed to know?”

“I left them by the door and they’re not there anymore,” the teenage boy scratched at the back of his head, “Dylan’s either lying or genuinely didn’t steal them so I came to you.”

“Did you check everywhere?” (Y/n) questioned, brows furrowing at the absurdity of the situation, “Shoes don’t just walk away on their own, you gotta have feet in them.”

“Yes, I checked everywhere,” the boy grumbled, no longer bumping the book on the hard surface, now content to flip through the pages and allow the smell of old parchment to fill their nostrils. What a lovely smell that was.

Shaking her head, the mother fumbled for an explanation to the whereabouts of her son’s shoes, “I don’t know what to tell you, you brought more pairs, right?”

Joey nodded slowly, eyes scanning through fragmented sentences before turning to the next page, “Yeah, I just really liked those ones.”

“Alright, well, I’m sure they’ll turn up eventually, don’t worry yourself over it,” she grasped her boy’s shoulder, rubbing her thumb into the flesh tenderly before letting go, “We have a rat problem, by the way, if you see any traps, let me know.”

“Oh fun,” he mumbled, forcing a wide smile onto his lips, “I think there’s some in the backyard if you haven’t been out there. They look like shit but they’ll probably get the job done.”

“Language, but thank you.”

“English and you’re welcome.”

Deciding it was better to just walk away at this point, (Y/n) headed for the back door. It was heavy to pull open and nearly slammed shut if she hadn’t pressed her foot into the thick wood, grunting at the responding pain. A trash bag was set out with a pair of gloves next to it on a quaint little side table with spider webs running between the beige wicker legs. As if somebody had put them out for a quick run but forgot they wouldn’t be using them after they left.

After that, what caught her eye was the glint of rusted metal in the thick, untamed bushes of the surrounding greenery. Upon closer inspection, she could see that grass had entangled with the metallic gate on a small wooden box, buzzing flies being the next eye-catcher. She crouched down, instantly picking up on the putrid smell of corroding flesh and dried blood, flies nibbling on the swiss cheesed corpse of a rat.

“Shit!” she gagged, backing away, rubbing her hands on her pants despite having not touched the cage at all.

Looking back up at the house, (Y/n) barely noticed the outline of a person in one of the second-floor windows. She blinked twice, shaking her head before squinting back up at the same window. Just a coat rack. Didn’t seem right - there were pants in the outline! - but then she realized how outlandish it seemed. If there was a secret person living in the house, surely it would’ve been mentioned by the realtor.

‘Forgotten’ rats were one thing, an entire person was another.

“Mom!” another soprano level scream ruptured her eardrums.

In turn, (Y/n) huffed, clenching her eyes shut before turning around and walking back towards the porch. What she first noticed was her seven-year-old, the second being the extremely off-putting, cracked porcelain doll in his arms.

It was half his size and looked to have been haphazardly put back together with some unnamed brand of superglue. Dark hair framed its head quite well with glassy, hazel eyes and pale, pretty pink lips. Grossly realistic and abandoned in a mansion, it seemed to be perfect fire material. Or it would be, if she hadn’t been told by the realtor, very explicitly, to not use the fireplace.

“Whole house could go up in flames,” Mindy had waved her hands about, “I’m not sure how that’d work, but just… don’t test it.”

Dylan held up the doll closer to his mother’s face, “Isn’t he cool?!”

“Yeah,” she lied through her teeth, carefully taking the doll, “Does he have a name?”

Leading his mother back inside, Dylan shrugged, but his loose limbs and lack of control made it appear as though he was trying to toss his shoulders off from his body, “Don’t know.”

“Hmm,” she quietly hummed, pulling back the tightly sewn collar of the doll to peek at a possible name tag, “I’m not seeing anything here, baby. You wanna name him yourself?”

There was another creak, easily dismissed as the manor’s old bones settling as the woman handed the fragile doll to her son. Dylan pressed his lips into a tight line, staring at the toy for a few moments before bursting out an answer, “I think he looks like a James!”

(Y/n) nodded to the boy’s antics, “I think that’s a great name for him.”

Before they could continue the conversation, a hard bang on the wall knocked a picture from its spot above the stove, toppling onto the rather shiny surface. Their heads turned, eyes wide and Dylan was suddenly shaking, grasping onto his mother’s shirt and huddling into her side. The woman settled a hand on her son’s shoulder, pressing her thumb into the tensing muscles before pulling away to inspect the wall. 

It was a wall, obviously. Flat, leveled, wall. Nothing particularly interesting about it aside from the wallpaper’s collection of grime and peels. Looking down, she took notice of the framed picture. Three figures stood in front of the home (Y/n) now found herself in possession of. Garden controlled and clean with no windows boarded, cracked, or dirtied. A young woman not much older than (Y/n) herself was holding a four-year-old brunette boy to her hip with, who one could assume was, her husband beside them.

Glancing between the picture and the doll, she frowned at how similar the toy looked to the little boy. Not to mention that haunting family portrait at the foot of the staircase. Turning the frame over in her hands, she opened up the back before pulling the picture out of its frame. (Y/n) searched for a scrawled title of the photograph, quickly finding an answer.

Mummy, Daddy, and Brahms!

She replaced the picture just as quickly as she got it out, debating between putting it back and tossing it out before deciding to leave it on the counter. (Y/n) took her son’s chubby cheeks between her hands, planting yet another kiss on his freckled forehead, “I think his name is Brahms, sweetie.”

“Brahms?” Dylan muttered, almost as though he was testing for another bump. When there was none, he nodded, “Brahms.”

Running away and back up the stairs, (Y/n) was ready to force herself into forgetting the whole thing happened when her older son’s voice was heard.

“It’s funny, you little brat!” followed by a loud wail.

“Give him back!” Dylan screamed.

(Y/n) rushed out of the kitchen to see Joey holding Brahms out of Dylan’s reach, the older boy was visibly angry, “Funny, I could say the same thing to you!”

“Joseph Lowy,” the woman muttered, snatching the doll from her son, and giving it back to her pouting little blond boy, “Here, go play with Brahms,” as he ran up the stairs, she called after him, “Don’t get too crazy up there, you two!”

Joey shook his head, rubbing at the bridge of his nose underneath his glasses, “Little asshole.”

“Hey!” (Y/n) looked over to the sixteen-year-old, “Don’t talk about your little brother like that.”

“He stole more of my shit,” the dark-haired boy tapped at the wall a few times with his knuckles, shaking his head, “Shoes I could deal with but now two of my shirts are missing.”

“Did you leave them at the house?” she tried to reason, leaning against the wall, “Dylan’s been with me for a while, maybe you’re losing it, sweetpea.”

Joey cringed at the pet name briefly before deciding to carry on with his point, “No, I didn’t leave my clothes at the house. I wouldn’t leave a single sock with that dick.”

“Don’t call my ex a dick,” (Y/n) breathed out, turning her son around and nudging him towards the den, “Only I can do that.”

“Unfair.”

“This isn’t a democracy, it’s a dictatorship,” (Y/n) waved off, standing there long enough just to watch the boy sit down on a leather chair and open the book in his hands. She’d have to go into town for rat traps, then.

She bit at her lip, turning towards the flight of stairs and beginning to go up the steps. Without the creeks flowing alongside her movement, the house seemed even more eerie - she didn’t bother to stop and figure out why there were no creeks. It didn’t matter to her at the time.

(Y/n) peeked into Dylan’s room, smiling softly at the sight of her little boy seated at a play table with plastic plates and cups and faux food set delicately on it. He was holding a small pink teacup with Brahms porcelain fingers using a hair tie to keep a similar purple one in his grasp. When the little boy noticed his mother in the doorway, he waved wildly, taking one of Brahms’ arms gently and copying the motion onto the doll.

Continuing down the hall, (Y/n) came upon her room, pushing it open and immediately seeing that her suitcases and bags had been peeled open. She was sure that she’d left them all zipped and sealed before leaving, but, of course, you can never be too certain. Going over to the luggage, she moved clothing around and peered through when she noticed how strewn about her things were.

The ‘fragile-minded’ female role after a heavy divorce was not something (Y/n) ever imagined herself as being. It was so played out and disgusting, she despised it with everything in her body. Yet, as she found that one of her dresses was missing, she suddenly felt as though it was depressingly truer than she’d hoped.

(Y/n) turned to another suitcase; her apple red-tinted skirt was gone. She dug deeper into the case, pulling out a few stray, tossed-around shirts in her endeavor to find her favorite skirt. She tossed a hand up, giving up on finding the articles of clothing for the time being. Not that she’d admit it, but worry was beginning to fester in the deepest crawlspaces of her gut.

Stepping over to a different suitcase, (Y/n) pulled out what probably wouldn’t make her look as though she just woke up and went over to the bathroom connected to her bedroom. 

Mindy had made it abundantly clear that the two previous owners drowned themselves while on a ‘two-month’ vacation after leaving the house to a nanny. Who the nanny was or why she left wasn’t made clear to either woman, just that the house wasn’t right. Cryptic language, always appreciated.

Taking into mind the deaths and sudden missing clothing combined with bumps from the kitchen, it may be time to call the kettle a kettle. The home may be haunted. Not that she wanted a literal haunted house, but what other choice was there at this point?

Not even apartments were renting as low as the manor was selling.

As she finished getting dressed, (Y/n) began her way out of the house, stopping at her younger son’s room, “I’m going out for some things. Want me to bring you back anything?”

Dylan looked over to the cracked doll, “Do you want new clothes, Brahms?”

The doll, of course, was completely silent. Unmoving. Watching. 

“I think Brahms wants new clothes, Mom,” Dylan beamed at the woman, holding up his plastic cup.

(Y/n) giggled, nodding as she pat the doorway, “Alright, honey, I’ll see what I can do for Brahms.”

“Thanks, Mom,” the bubbly little boy lowered his cup, settling his hand on the doll’s back, “Say thanks, Brahms.”

No words came from the toy, as one would be expected to expect. It sat still, not moving but still watching. Always watching. Unblinking, glassy, hazel eyes stuck on his flesh-and-blood blond friend.

“He says thanks.”

Nodding, the woman gave her boy a thumbs up, “I’m sure.”

The next son was still in the den, reading quietly to himself. Every now and again one’s ear would pick up on a small mumble of a word, small stutters slipping from the teenager’s lips. (Y/n) came up behind the boy, hands slamming onto the back of the chair loudly.

Joey jumped in his place, turning swiftly, “The hell, Mom?”

“I’m going out, bookworm,” (Y/n) teased, running a hand through the boy’s messy black hair, “Need me to pick something up?”

“Coffee grounds would be great,” he confirmed, “There’s none in this entire, literal, mansion.”

“Alright,” she gently brought her older son’s shoulders back so his head was laying against the chair, “Take a break sometime soon, okay? Stretch for a bit, make you and your brother some lunch.”

He hummed in acknowledgment but otherwise, there was no indication of him having even listened to his mother. 

~~

The next morning was just as drab and bland as the previous, and there was no doubt that the morning after this would be the same as always. (Y/n) huffed as she climbed out of bed, rubbing a hand over her droopy eyes. She stood, no longer remembering much of what had happened yesterday other than buying children’s clothes for a doll and coffee grounds for her son.

Not even the drill holes the previous owners must have never paid much mind to, which she noticed after dinner. They were strangely large for any typical drill she’d seen or owned.

(Y/n) managed to trudge into the kitchen during her dazed state, neither one of her boys was eating and so she correctly assumed both were still asleep. Scratching under her shirt at her stomach, the woman picked the coffee grounds from under the sink, laying the hefty tub on the counter next to the maker. Seemed a bit counterproductive to have a coffee maker and not a single crumb of grounds or even any beans to actually use. Not that she could say it to the owners’ faces.

“Oh, filters, right,” she mumbled to herself, immediately recalling the thin papers in the walk-in closet style storage compartment. 

Her hand scanned over a few shelves, one arm crossed over her chest and the other still running along canned goods and cereal boxes. She tilted her head to rest on the raised shoulder, beginning to hum quietly to herself. The air was pleasantly crisp, oddly crisp for the interior of a house let alone a pantry. It had the same feeling as being inside an attic, if that made any sort of sense it didn’t matter to her at the time. Not much about the house mattered to her at the moment.

A few creeks and Joey was walking into the kitchen, the poor house was only getting older and with his naturally heavy steps, Joey found himself making more noise than he’d like. So much noise. Too much noise. Why did he have to be so loose with his footfalls? He’d been walking for over forty years by now.

Forty years? Forty years.

He was a grown man, he should be able to walk quietly. Just because Greta left him, he suddenly can’t be a ghost anymore?

A scream clutched the air as the pantry door slammed shut. (Y/n) turned, not finding herself much a fan of the darkness. She took the doorknob into her grip, violently twisting and pushing on the knob, “Joseph?! Dylan?!”

The door refused to budge, like a weight was pressing down onto it. It creaked and rocked ever so slightly but there was no way of getting it open.

“Joseph fucking Lowy, open this God damn door!” she pounded on the busted wood, beginning to kick when her hits proved no help, “Dylan! One of you open this door, right now!”

Suddenly, the lock made a click, and all the invisible weight was gone, a sixteen-year-old boy staring quizzically at his mother, “Mom, what’s wrong with you? How did you lock the door from the outside?”

“What are you talking about?” (Y/n) shook her head, giving the pantry a glance over her shoulder, “You locked me in there.”

“You woke me up with all your yelling,” Joey instantly denied, “I’m surprised Dylan’s not up yet.”

“Joseph, I’m not playing with you right now,” she crossed both arms, “It’s not cute.”

“I’m serious!” he shouted in his own defense, neither of them taking notice in the seven-year-old cradling a porcelain doll with a cracked face to his chest, “I wouldn’t lock you in a pantry!”

“Mom…” the boy muttered.

(Y/n)’s jaw clenched, eyes slamming shut and body turning away from her older son to look at the disgusting wallpaper of her kitchen. She sniffed hard, rubbing under her nose before looking back to her younger son, “Yes, sweetie?”

“Brahms made a mess,” Dylan quietly replied, going up to his mother and grabbing her hand, “It wasn’t me, really. It was Brahms.”

“What do you mean it was Brahms?” she huffed, following after the child as he began leading her up to the second floor, “He’s a doll, baby, it was probably just the wind knocking something over.”

“No,” he shook his head, pushing his bedroom door open wider, “Brahms made a mess.”

A mess indeed. Clothes and toys had been absolutely hurricaned around the little boy’s room, some glass from pictures and abandoned dishes shattered across the floor. Dylan’s play table had been toppled over with all the plasticware left on the carpeted ground. Looking over to her son’s feet, (Y/n) felt herself puzzled at the lack of blood; glass was everywhere. How could his reckless little feet avoid all of it?”

“Baby, did you step in any glass?”

“There’s glass in there?” the boy peeked around his mother before looking down at Brahms, “How did you do that?”

(Y/n) turned back to the bedroom, poking her tongue into her cheek as her hands found their places on her hips. Confusion laced into her bones, trickling down the marrow and soaking into her shaking fingertips. Brows knit tightly downward in the midst of her conflict and head thumping for answers, no - no, that was a headache. She was getting a headache.

Taking her son’s shoulders, (Y/n) spun him around to face the way they just came down, “I’ll take care of that tonight, sweetpea, don’t go in here for a little bit, alright? I don’t want you cutting up your feet.”

“Okay, Mama,” Dylan grinned up at the woman, holding Brahms a little tighter in his grasp, “I don’t want Brahms to get hurt either.”

“That’s very nice of you,” she cooed, taking his cheek between thumb and forefinger and pinching gently, “What a good little boy I have.”

Beaming at the praise, the mother-son duo didn’t even notice the panel in the wall rolling back and it’s spidery tendons creeping around the curve of the wall’s edge. Instead, they giggled over nothing as (Y/n) took her son’s small, fragile hands into her own and puppeteered him down the stairs. Doll boy Brahms left to sit on the landing of the house’s flight until somebody, anybody, picked him up.

Passing the portrait of another family was easy enough despite how creepy it seemed. They’d have to take it down, feeling like a guest in one’s own home was never appreciated. Then again, neither were pests in your walls, especially when you didn’t know about them yet.

~~

“Sleep tight, sweetie,” (Y/n) blew one final kiss to her son before closing the bedroom door to her own room.

“Wait,” Dylan whined, stopping his mother in the motion, “Brahms is still gone…”

The woman pursed her lips, “I know, I know. Just try to sleep without him for now, okay? We’ll probably find him tomorrow morning.”

Pouting, the boy kicked his legs out slightly before nodding solemnly, “Alright…”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” she smiled tenderly at the child before shutting the bedroom door genuinely. Turning to her other son, (Y/n) forced a much faker smile onto her lips, “And thank you for your upcoming sacrifice.”

“I never said it was a sacrifice,” Joey grumbled, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, “You’re just dramatic.”

“Incorrect,” (Y/n) turned her boy around with a few small pats on the shoulder, descending the stairs as a pair until they reached the comically large portrait of a family that wasn’t their own.

Her hand settled against the groove of the curvy golden frame, the other resting against the painted surface as she and her son lifted the painting from the wall.

“Shit,” Joey hissed, assisting his mother in her lifting, “this thing’s heavy. Really heavy.”

“Probably wasn’t meant to be taken off the wall,” the woman reasoned with her son, muscles straining in their removal of the ridiculously big painting.

As the woman handled the painting, deciding to let it rest on the floor. Her backbones screamed as she slowly bent at the knee to lower the portrait of the wealthy family. Knuckles and joints beginning to ache as she did so.

“Mom…?” Joey muttered, voice much smaller and more fragile than she was accustomed to.

“Yeah?” she gruffed, finally letting the painting down completely. Her hands came to press on her tailbone ever so gently, practically already feeling next morning’s soreness, “Something wrong?”

“Only if you think a human-sized hole in the wall is a problem?” the boy chuckled dryly.

“A what?”

Turning swiftly, (Y/n) was quickly faced with exactly what her eldest son had just described to her. A human-sized hole in their wall. Large enough to fit a six-foot person, maybe they’d have to duck, but the fact remained. Her hands reached out for the edges of where the frame met the actual wall. She turned her head both ways, it was dark but when her eyes adjusted she could tell that there was a clear path running through the wall. Pulling her head back out, (Y/n) nodded towards the hole.

“I’ll go first, you follow.”

“Fine.”

Stepping into the hole, she noted how disgustingly crisp the air felt, it reminded her of being trapped in the pantry. It made her question what ways were waiting to be opened up by creeping little fingers inside that quiet, confined space. Her skin bumped and hairs raised at the thought of whoever had made these pathways still being inside the house. But that was insane, not a chance that somebody could live inside the walls of a manor without anybody finding out. There’d be too many creeks.

And suddenly she was remembering being locked in the pantry again, when those loud creeks were cracking into her ears and her sons had still been asleep. Her sons had still been asleep.

(Y/n) stopped, glad that her son’s eyes, though faltering, had adjusted to the dark well enough so he wouldn’t bump into her, “You’re sure you didn’t lock me in the pantry, right? There’s no way you were sleepwalking or anything?”

It was silent, so silent that there was a deafening buzz drumming into her ears.

“Joey?”

Again, all she was met with was the droning, consistent blare of buzzing in her ears.

“Joseph, I’m not playing with you.”

Once more, she was hit with buzzing.

“Joseph,” (Y/n) turned around, not meeting the eyes of her sixteen-year-old bookworm son, but instead with a stained, smelly, thin white shirt.

It hung low enough to expose the oddly shiny slick of sweat glistening over a hairy chest. Her breath grew rapid, fear racing through her body as she shook her head.

Looking up, her gut was wrenched at the dirtied prosthetic mask angled as if the person behind it was looking down upon her, as though she were a frightened rabbit. Now that she thought about it, she was a frightened, shaking little rabbit.

“Where’s my son?” when there was no response, she tossed herself into his body, attempting to push past him, “Joseph?! Dylan?!”

The arms of the secret man in her walls wrapped around her, squeezing tightly. One arm abandoned her waist, scrambling for something a little ways behind them, when he found it, the arm raised above her head.

“Joseph?!” she sobbed weakly, beginning to choke on her own nasty cocktail of tears and mucus, “Dylan?!”

A thwack left no more screaming to be heard, the tall man dropping his makeshift club in favor of picking the woman up as though she were his cute, delicate bride. 

Brahms turned, heading back for the largest panel of the walls with (Y/n) dangling limply in his arms.

~~

Finally coming to, (Y/n) sputtered in a soft muffle, eyesight unclear and spotting in the corners. The spots and blotches eventually leveled and began to mop themselves into one concise picture of the kitchen. She let out a soft hiss, wrists stinging when she suddenly realized that there were ropes binding her arms back and to her chair. 

Head toppling to the left, a snoring Joey was also tied down with his glasses already having slipped from his nose. Crashed onto the floor and shattered, it reminded her of her youngest son’s room; her youngest son.

She looked over to her right, spotting an empty wicker chair immediately beside her and Dylan after that. Dylan was leaning far back, head resting on his shoulder and mouth having fallen open to let out quiet whimpers and whines as though even in Dreamland, he was frightful. 

Finally, she looked forward, squinting at the collection of chairs in front of her. They were chairs, obviously, nothing too interesting about that but it’s what was in the chairs that alarmed her. Pillows conjoined together by stolen articles of clothing ranging from Joey’s shirt to her favorite dress and skirt and Dylan’s sweatshirt. Between her pillow copy and Dylan’s was the Brahms doll; staring ahead silently. Watching. Always watching.

A high-pitched, airy, childlike voice rang in her ear, it didn’t match the fully grown man standing behind Dylan. Brahms, the real Brahms, pat the boy’s blond hair before ruffling Joey’s untamed dark tresses, “Little brother… big brother…” he moved behind (Y/n), his hands settling on her shoulders before his mask moved to press it’s  cold, hard lips against the goosebumped, terrified skin of her neck, “Mommy…”

Sitting down in the empty chair, Brahms smiled beneath his mask, staring into the dead, glassy eyes of his doll before letting his voice take on the deeper octave more appropriate of an adult.

“Daddy…”

[angrylizardjacket]

dirtbags // 3: Charlotte

Summary: High school AU, 1985, Winter. The year’s off to a strange start as Charlotte and her friends find out that not only does Lola work at the new diner that opened up in town, but her dad owns it! Charlotte humbles Nikki in a very un-Charlotte manor, and Vince’s parents decide to host an English exchange student in an attempt to give him a good role model; instead, they get Razzle.

A/N: 8466 words. Do I care too much about this AU? Yes. as always, for my dears @misscharlottelee and @newyeareva ft. a softer world quotes

the city sometimes feels like a movie set. maybe this is the big scene. maybe i can be an extra at least.

Charlotte’s only a few practice hours away from being able to get her provisional license, and she berates her past self for not getting it sooner, especially not when her Winter Break has been kind of a shit-show and she’d rather tear off her own arms than ride in Tommy’s shitbox of a car with Vince Neil. 

Since his blowout house party, Vince had essentially been grounded for the rest of the school year, had his car privileges revoked, and the only people his parents apparently trusted him to hang around with outside of school, were Tommy, Charlotte, Eileen, and Peach. Tommy was delighted. The girls, unsurprisingly, were not. Vince himself was downright somber, and had sulked for the remainder of the semester, and well into the break.

He had been in a particularly sour mood since last night, New Year’s Eve, when his parents had announced they were going to be hosting an exchange student from England for six months. Vince is convinced it’s an attempt to give him some sort of role model his own age, and spent most of his parents’ New Year’s Eve party ranting to Tommy and the girls while they played cards in his basement.

Her saving grace is Eileen, of course, who’s father had bought her mother a shiny, new car for Christmas, and had given Eileen the keys to her mother’s old station wagon. 

“It’s kinda dumb that we’re taking two cars,” Peach, Eileen’s little sister, pipes up from the back seat, hands fiddling in her lap. It’s New Year’s Day, and while their various parents were sleeping off their hangovers, they’d suggested the kids check out the new diner that was opening today. Vince jumped at the suggestion of freedom, and everyone was in agreement, but Eileen and Charlotte took Peach in Eileen’s car the moment Vince slid into Tommy’s front seat, holding the flyer he’d gotten at the mall that told them all about the diner’s opening day, “just saying, we could all fit in one.” But she’s met with silence, “are you going to be mad at him forever?” She finally sighs.

“Yes.” Both Charlotte and Eileen answer automatically. Peach sighs as dramatically as she’s able, and sinks as low into the seat as she can. Charlotte turns on the radio, and hums along to something familiar, but that she doesn’t quite recognize, staring out the front window at the back of Tommy’s car. Vince turns around in the front seat and flips them off.

“I’m gonna ram them,” Eileen says, with absolute sincerity and serenity, leveling an intense glare at where Vince was now waving.

“Don’t,” Charlotte advises, equally level.

“I don’t get why you’re still mad, I’m not even mad,” Peach huffed, pouting. Charlotte and Eileen share a look; at sixteen years old, Peach was top of almost all of her math and science classes, but she was still a teenage girl, and an absolute fool for a blonde boy who made her cry. Charlotte knew that feeling all too well, but thankfully she’d moved on from the ‘wondering why she wasn’t enough’ stage to the ‘realizing her ex is a cheating douchebag and it was never her fault’ stage. She really hopes Peach can move on to ‘realizing Vince made her cry and hasn’t even tried to change since then and deserved to get his car keyed’ stage quickly.

The diner was bustling when they arrived, a large decal on the inside of window, black, thick and flowing lettering, outlined in gold, reading Leo’s. Through the window, several booths were already filled, as were a host of the stools along the counter. It looked warm inside, inviting in golds, yellows, peaches and oranges, neon signs and rusted street signs, band and comic book memorabilia, and photos. Behind the counter -

Lola. Smiling.

“I’m freezing my butt off, can we go in?” Peach asks, hands shoved deep in the pockets of her parker, the only person who did not recognize the girl currently pouring coffee for an elderly gentleman at the counter. 

Inside, the diner is warm, filled with the sounds pleasant chatter, and of the Beatles coming from a cherry wood jukebox in the corner.

“Lola!” Tommy can’t help himself, lighting up at the sight of her, and once Lola finishes pouring her customer coffee, she looks to their confused little group, and waves.

“Find yourselves a seat, I’ll be with you in a moment,” she calls back, smiling bright and wide, hair tied back with a bright, red bandana. 

The teens do as they’re told, pulling off jackets and gloves and scarves, sliding into a booth by the window, looking around, wrapped up in the smell of warm food, and the confusion of Lola’s presence, and completely unfamiliar demeanor. There’s an uncertain kind of quiet among them, having just expected to spend lunch at a cool new diner, but this has shift everything, only Peach, blissfully unaware of who Lola even was, seemed at ease, rearranging the sugar packets in their little holder.

Lola comes by with menus, and cups, and a pitcher of water for the table, looking pristine and put together in a tight, black blouse, skirt, and scuffed black combat boots, little peach-coloured apron tied around her waist. She pulls a notebook and pen from the pocket of the apron, looking around at them all, as if finally taking a moment to assess the situation.

Charlotte picked up a menu.

“You work here?” Tommy asked, and Lola confirms brightly, but doesn’t give any further details. She does, however, thank them all for coming, and recommend a few of her favourites.

“I’m also partial to The Lola, for obvious reasons,” she gives an actual laugh at that, as if implying one of the burgers was named after her was giving away too much information, and Charlotte was quickly scouring the menu.

Beef patty, double bacon, American cheese, lettuce, tomato, and a home-made smokey maple-barbeque sauce, on a toasted bun.

“The menu’s kind of misleading,” Lola admits, moving to look down over Charlotte’s shoulder as she was reading, “all the patties are home made too, with Leo’s signature blend of herbs and spices.” That asked more questions than it answered. No-one’s quite sure what to say.

“Can I get a milkshake?” Peach pipes up, and Lola’s smile grew wide as she asked what flavour, “chocolate, please, and do you have curly fries or regular?”

“Hand cut,” Lola tells her proudly, but that means very little to Peach, who’s just glad to be having food, “still need time to think?” Lola asks the rest, and they all give her awkward, quiet smiles and nods. 

Lola leaves, heading back to the counter, and the moment she’s gone, the whole table explodes with whispered confusion, leaning in, asking questions and not getting any answers. 

“You guys are being super fucking weird,” Peach hisses loudly at them all, while Charlotte and Tommy argue about how the other should have known. Eileen, quietly delighted by the chaos, demands to know if anyone else thinks Lola might secretly have a twin, and Vince, who’s had the least contact with her aside from Peach, is babbling about how it’s weird to see Lola so chipper; their mutual confusion is enough to set aside Eileen and Charlotte’s hatred of him, at least for the moment. 

When Peach demands they explain what they’re all whisper-shouting about, disturbing the booth behind her, they all quiet down, and Tommy and Eileen take it in turns explaining their full understanding of Lola. Charlotte takes the time to actually look around the diner now that she was inside.

There’s two other waitress, one behind the counter, the other always moving on about the various tables and booths on one side, making sure the customers are happy and food and drinks are delivered, both in the same outfit as Lola, though with varying footwear. 

The view to the kitchen is unobstructed behind the counter, a half wall where meals ready to be delivered were sat, but a clear view to where three people in the kitchen, two by the grills and fryers, turned away; a broad-shouldered man towering over the grill with the longest hair Charlotte’s ever seen braided neatly down his back, and a comparatively shorter man, also with far shorter hair, though enough to be pulled up into a messy pony tail. The shorter man’s working the fryer, and putting together burgers as the taller man cooked up their various ingredients. There was also a strangely familiar kid with a mop of dark, curly hair washing dishes on the other side of the kitchen, barely visible.

Lola worked diligently, smiling and chatting away; she collected dishes, and ferried meals, and handed out slices of desert from the cute, multi-tiered desserts display on the counter. When she came back, milkshake in one hand, basket of fries in the other, Peach is fully caught up on each of her friend’s short but confusing histories with her, and blurts out -

“You’re Lola?” Injecting new meaning into the words, into the name, as if anyone else at their entire school had the same name. Lola’s smile goes a little tight as she places the fries and the milkshake before the redhead. Standing back up, she taps her nametag, which reads Lola, with little flowers drawn around it, and confirms, though it’s clear she’s more on edge than she was before.

“You guys ready to order?” She asks, still trying to keep up her chipper attitude, pulling out her notebook again. Everyone’s quieter this time, looking over the menu and finally deciding on food.

“My mom heard the owner was a chef, is that true?” Tommy asks, looking up from the menu to Lola again, and the tense set of her shoulders loosens considerably at the question.

“Leo is a chef,” Lola nodded, grinning broadly, “trained at the Culinary Institute of America back in the sixties, and worked his way up to being the head chef of Parker House in Boston, which I know probably doesn’t mean much to you guys, but it’s,” Lola laughs a little struggling to describe it, “it’s fine dining at it’s finest, but for the past twelve years, he’s been running Leo’s in Salem, and now he’s here, still using all that fine dining training for the anyone who wants a good meal at a good price.”

“Is that something they have you memorize in training?” Vince says, a little awed, and Lola gives a strange little smile.

“Leo’s my dad.”

Everything kind of fell into place after that, finally making sense, and the gang’s confusion quickly shifted to understanding, and the air around the table seemed to clear. It was easier after that, the teens in the booth ordering quickly, and the chatter picked up to a normal level as she moved away, shouting their order back to the kitchen once she was back at the counter.

She doesn’t spend much time at their table, still in charge of waitressing half of the tables and booths, but she always gives them a nod as she passes, and their meals are being delivered efficiently, so there’s no reason to complain.

The food itself, for diner food, is nothing short of spectacular, which kind of just raises more questions - why if Leo can cook food that tastes this good, and with all the experience he evidentially has, would he open a diner in suburban LA, and not a high-end restaurant? But it feels kind of intrusive to ask, so Charlotte simply enjoys her food, and her friends’ company.

Up until Vince starts complaining about the exchange student again.

“His name’s Nicholas, he shows up in a week, and mom’s making me clear out the basement so he can sleep there,” he’s despondently poking his milkshake with one of his fries, head propped up on one hand, “I’ve been asking for years if I could move into the basement, and this fucking Nicholas just gets it?” His whole expression scrunches up at the thought, and he angrily eats his fry.

“Wait, so the issue isn’t that you have to clean up the basement, it’s that he gets to use it as a bedroom and you don’t?” Charlotte frowned, lowering her own burger, “why would you even want to sleep in the basement?”

“Privacy!” Vince throws his hands in the air, eyes wide, “Tammi keeps complaining about getting cramps in the back of my car, but my bedroom walls are paper thin,” he huffs, “I need my own space.”

“Tammi?” Peach asks, her voice high and almost painfully chipper, “Tammi Frisk? She scored the winning goal in the softball final, right?” She’s not looking at Vince, when Charlotte looks over to her, she’s looking at her plate of fries, pushing the few left around without eating any, smiling in a way that’s clearly forced.

“You were at the softball final?” Tommy asked, frowning slightly. Peach did not look up.

“For the school paper,” she explained, voice still strange.

“You’re still with Tammi Frisk?” Eileen asks, making sure the disgust is clear in her voice as she draws the table’s attention away from the clearly uncomfortable Peach. Charlotte’s lip curled; she wanted to make sure her expression was as judgmental as possible when Vince turned back to her. 

It’s not that she cared about who he was dating, she was mostly apathetic to Tammi, and knew little more about her than the fact that she was on the softball team, but Charlotte knew Vince had been dating Tammi when he’d decided to crush Peach’s heart publicly at the start of the last semester.

Neither Peach nor Eileen had told any of them exactly how, but apparently Eileen’s hatred was well warranted, both against Vince, and according to Eileen, Tammi too.

Vince, immediately sensing Eileen’s shift in tone, and seeing the look on her face, frowns.

“Kind of,” he responds flatly, and his gaze flicks to Peach, “not really,” he backtracks, and his indignation at the whole situation seems to fizzle out with a sigh, and he slouches, going back to paying attention to his burger, “she’s sort of hanging out with one of the second-string football guys, but they’re not... and we’re not really...” he trails off, despondent once more.

At least Vince seemed to be self-aware of the fact that he was an asshole to Peach, at least he had the decency to feel bad about it. Why he kept inviting Peach to hang out, despite the fact that he knew Eileen, who hated his guts, would come along too - invited or not - baffled Charlotte. 

Tommy was his friend, and a guy, Charlotte was a cheerleader and technically popular, and so was usually begrudgingly invited too, but Peach, sweet Peach, recent Science Fair Winner, junior reporter for the school paper, treasurer for the AV Club, by all accounts ‘a nerd’ when judged by her interests, was still on the guest list of Vince Neil’s life, even if he wouldn’t admit that out loud. 

It kind of made Charlotte want to punch him in the face.

But that’s not news.

“I hope the English exchange student is a decent influence on you,” Charlotte tells him. Vince scowls.

“You sound like my parents.”

you make me want to pretend to be a better man.

Now that school has started back up, Vince has thankfully had his car privileges returned, and Charlotte can return to not glowering in the back seat of Tommy’s car when he picks her up on the way to school, and drops her home on the days they both have practice. 

But it’s Wednesday, first week back, and he’s uncharacteristically quiet. Usually he’s babbling about practice, or cheerleaders he thinks are pretty, or Lola, but today, he meets Charlotte in the carpark, leaning against the trunk of his car, hands in his pockets, quiet. It’s decidedly unnerving.

“What’s wrong, Tom?” Charlotte asks, yanking the passenger door open once he unlocks it, sliding into the seat and putting her bag by her feet.

“Nothing,” Tommy voice betrays the lie, the thoughts so clearly on his mind that he was trying to avoid talking about. Charlotte won’t push him, if he wanted to tell her, he would, and he usually does, “put on some music, will you?” And Charlotte obligingly opens the glove compartment in front of her to look through the collection of 8track tapes he keeps in there, several of which had been Christmas gifts from Charlotte herself.

Feet on the dashboard, Charlotte’s more than content listening to Bon Jovi, bopping her head to the beat, when Tommy finally finds the words for his thoughts.

“Lola and Nikki Sixx are friends.” 

Up until now, Charlotte was under the impression that Tommy, like her, thought Nikki and Lola would be great as friends, Tommy’s current tone implies otherwise. 

“Is that not good?” Charlotte’s careful about her words, still not sure where Tommy’s hesitation was coming from.

“No, they make sense,” he’s quick to try and backtrack, words spilling from him almost too fast, “they make sense as friends.” He deliberates, before asking, “Charlie, you’re not friends with Nikki Sixx are you?” And it sounds like he already knows the answer. Charlotte hesitates.

“He keeps bothering me during my free periods, I wouldn’t exactly call us friends -”

“He called you Charlie,” its deadpan and accusatory in equal measure, and Charlotte shrinks back into her seat as Tommy keeps talking, “he called me ‘Charlie’s cousin’. It was weird.”

“I thought you wanted to be his friend -” she tries, right as they pull up to a red light, and Tommy fixes her with an unamused look, the only expression that makes him seem older than his years.

“Did you tell him I was obsessed with him?”

“No!” Charlotte snaps, automatically defensive.

“Because I’m not -”

“I never said - I told him you were a fan! That’s all! Like Duff was!” Charlotte tries to clear up, and Tommy looks back at the road, though this time he thankfully looks more pensive than angry. Only Bon Jovi cuts through the tense air between them for the rest of the drive back to Charlotte’s house, and when Tommy pulls up outside, he doesn’t say anything to her when she gets out. 

The next day, like clockwork, fifteen minutes into her free period, Nikki Sixx comes climbing over the school’s fence, into the garden Charlotte had been trying to force herself to study in. In all honesty, she’d been waiting for him, picking at her nail polish beneath the table and reading the same sentence in Moby Dick over and over again.

“Miss Lee,” Nikki nods to her, a little gruffer than usual, “you seem more tense than usual; I can help you with that if you want,” but he still manages to smirk his way through an unsubtle come-on, and Charlotte rolls her eyes, not in the mood for their usual banter.

“I’d rather sit on a cactus,” she tells him icily, without even a teasing edge. Nikki’s eyebrows shoot up at the hostility, and he puts the packet of cigarettes that he’d about to offer her on the table, knowing she’d turn them down anyway, “I thought people weren’t meant to know that we know each other.”

“What people do?” Nikki frowned, raising his lighter to the cigarette between his lips, “is this about yesterday? I talked to your cousin, big deal. Everyone knows you two are related, and everyone knows you,” he looks pointedly to the embroidered logo on her cheer uniform, “I wasn’t even looking for him -”

“Dude,” Charlotte felt as though she was about to tear her hair out, “you called me Charlie to him, people don’t just call me that!”

“Plenty of people call you that! That leggy redhead you’re always hanging around calls you Charlie -”

“My friends call me that -” Charlotte snaps, “and I know you know that’s Eileen Austen.” And Nikki’s wearing a dreamy look, like he’s thinking unholy thoughts about Eileen as Charlotte speaks, before snapping out of it as the first of her words register like a bucket of ice water to the face.

“I’ve called you Charlie before. To your face.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” Charlotte tells him dryly, crossing her arms, “it’s less effort if I don’t correct you. We’re so not friends that I don’t even care about correcting you.” Back when this school year started, Charlotte wouldn’t have dreamed saying half the nasty shit she’s thrown at Nikki Sixx, and at some point she may have to confront the idea that being around him has made her meaner, “but did you tell my cousin that I told you he was obsessed with you? Because I never -”

“I said I was glad he was a fan!” Nikki scowled, sitting back and glowering at her across the table, “all I wanted was to ask Lola if she wanted to sit on the roof with the rest of the smokers, and your fuckin’ yappy, dumbass of a cousin -”

Punching someone in the face hurts a lot more than Charlotte had been anticipating, but it’s worth it to see Nikki toppling backwards off of the picnic bench and onto the cold grass. His cigarette lies some few feet away while he lays groaning, clutching his cheek, and Charlotte’s standing, leaning, thighs pressed against the picnic table for support as she’s staring down at him, breathing heavy through her nose while the adrenaline rushes through her system.

“What the fuck, Charlie?”

“Don’t talk shit about Tommy,” her heart’s thundering in her chest, she can feel the blood rushing in her ears, and when she looks at her hand, she sees the skin of one of her knuckles has split enough to draw blood, “he has done fucking nothing to you apart from support you, and think you’re really fucking cool, for whatever dumbass reason, so don’t you dare talk shit about him.”

“Jesus Christ,” Nikki groaned, eyes closed, trying to catch his breath after being winded so thoroughly, hand still cradling his cheek. That’s how Charlotte leaves him, slinging her bag onto her shoulder, and stalking towards the library to finish the rest of her free period in peace.

When Tommy drives Charlotte, Eileen, and Peach home after school that day, he’s quiet once again, but it somehow feels completely different to the oppressively accusatory air of the day before. The three girls were chattering away, trying to plan a trip to the mall for the upcoming weekend, and only when Peach and Eileen were waving goodbye in the rearview mirror did Tommy speak up.

“Did you punch Nikki Sixx in the face?” There’s a smile in her cousin’s voice, and Charlotte’s not quite sure how to react.

“I had good reason to,” she says, carefully guarded.

“He said you guys were friends, and then he thanked me for being coming to the gig a while back; told me he’d asked you to bring me specifically,” Tommy’s tone was oozing pride, and if Charlotte had been looking at him, and not frowning out the window, she would have seen how he was all but preening.

“He told you all that?” Charlotte’s anger at her memory’s of the morning’s altercation was fading fast.

“He hung out with me and Lola by the carpark for lunch,” Tommy paused, snorting a laugh, “didn’t want his buddies to find out a cheerleader gave him a black eye.”

“I - what? No I didn’t...” Charlotte’s eyes went wide, and finally she looked at her cousin’s beaming face.

“You definitely did; Lola laughed at him for a full ten minutes because of it.”

“Serves him right,” Charlotte said, with a begrudging little smile.

Nikki sits with Tommy and Lola on Friday too, which Tommy is delighted to inform Charlotte on Saturday while he’s driving them both to Vince’s, where his parents have invited them over to meet the exchange student. Nicholas.

He arrived on Wednesday, but Vince’s parents have given him the rest of the week to settle in, and had invited around the few friends Vince has that they deem to be a positive influence, if only so he knew a few faces around school. 

Charlotte had been picturing some over-gelled boarding-school boy, used to itchy uniforms and strict rules, and about to get a good deal of culture shock hanging around Vince and the rest of their motley little pack, but when Charlotte brings this speculation up in the car, Tommy’s quick to dismiss it. Vince, from the little Tommy had spoken to him in the past two days, was over the moon, claimed that Nicholas - Vince had called him Razzle - was amazing. If Charlotte felt an quiet sense of foreboding at that sentiment, she felt it was justified.

The first thing either of them hear after being directed down to the basement by Vince’s mother, is Alice Cooper playing almost obnoxiously loud; Charlotte’s not sure why, but it eases something in her chest. 

Nicholas’s - Razzle’s? - room, first and foremost, is possibly the coolest bedroom Charlotte’s ever been in. He’s decked it out with movie and band posters, though most of the band’s she’s never heard of. There’s string-lights above a desk, a bed crammed into one corner with a bright duvet, and even a sofa, and a few beanbags all crowded around a low, wooden table that had mostly been taken up with a record player, which is where they found their friends. 

The name Razzle suited him, Charlotte considered, as she took in the newcomer’s appearance, all spiked up dark hair and ostentatious clothing, animatedly telling a story while Peach and Vince hung onto his every word. He looked almost wild, like collection of half-thought ideas all vying to become a reality through the texture of his clothes, the height of his hair, the hint of amusement that tailed his words, the passion shining in the blue of his eyes when they flicked to look at her and her cousin, standing on the stairs and watching him.

His words grow quiet as he takes them in, as if waiting for something to happen, for someone to introduce them.

“You must be Charlie and Tommy!” His accent, thick and bright, made her nickname sound so familiar on his lips.

“Charlotte,” Vince corrects, giving a surprisingly respectful nod to Charlotte, who tries to shrug nonchalantly.

“Charlie’s fine. You’re,” and Charlotte hesitates for a moment, ignoring Vince’s eyeroll, “Razzle, right?” Razzle’s smile is blinding at her immediate use of the nickname, and he waves them in.

Peach throws Tommy a cushion from the sofa when he asks, and he settles himself on the floor next to Vince, while Peach and Eileen squeeze over to make room for Charlotte on the sofa clearly only made for two people.

“I was just telling these guys ‘bout my band’s very first gig, ‘nd how I had to sneak out just to get there,” Razzle settled back into his own beanbag, hands out and ready to return to his story, eyes still shining with anticipation at the memory, or possibly just glad to have an audience. 

Oh, Charlotte thought, looking at this boy she barely knew, already fighting off a smile in the face of his infectious enthusiasm, maybe Vince was becoming a better judge of character.

“You’re in a band?” Tommy’s eyes light up, and Charlotte gives her cousin a fond smile; Razzle has already won his seal of approval.

we need more good crazy. it'd be nice to watch the news, and think, 'that's fucking insane', but feel a little jealous instead of just alone.

Heather hasn’t been glowering as much at lunch, and the rumour is that it’s because she’s getting laid. Well, it’s less of a rumour to Charlotte, since Heather confirmed as much to the rest of the cheer squad when one of the girls asked her, but she’s being coy and secretive about who she’s with, which is the really weird part; Heather won’t say, and no-one’s coming forward, and lord knows that most guys at their school would jump at the opportunity to claim they’re banging the Vice Captain of the Cheerleading Squad. 

But Charlotte knows not to look a gift horse in the mouth, and instead just smiles back when Heather gives her a sunny smile in the cafeteria.

Tommy is less than thrilled with the news when Charlotte brings it up in the car after school. Nikki’s still sitting with him and Lola during lunch, despite his bruising going down considerably over the weekend, and Tommy is equal parts delighted and uncomfortable, for reasons he can’t seem to put into words. 

“At least Pam’s single,” he says it with as much of a dreamy sigh as he can manage, though it comes out more forlorn than anything else. Charlotte pets his shoulder, and reminds him that so is over half the squad; he perks up a little at that. 

They pull into Mick’s gas station, and Charlotte waves to Mick and Lola, who are sitting on the step by the door sharing a cigarette. Lola waves back.

“Meant to give this to you,” Lola says to Charlotte, still sitting while Mick begrudgingly heads inside. Tommy follows him in, not needing to fill up the tank, but rather just looking to drown his sorrows regarding Heather in a jumbo slurpee. Outside, Charlotte waits with her hands in her pockets, giving Lola an amused smile, watching as the dark haired girl pulls a pin off of the jacket she practically lives in, and hands it over.

It’s a piece of black card stock cut into the shape of a star, barely an inch in diameter, taped to a safety pin. It say Punched Nikki Sixx in silver pen, one of the points of the star already a little bit crumpled. 

“You’re a little bit punk, so you get a pin,” Lola tells her, smiling around her cigarette, looking quietly pleased, and perhaps even a little bit proud; whether of herself or of Charlotte, Charlotte can’t tell, but it still makes her flush.

“I thought Nikki didn’t want anyone knowing that a cheerleader gave him a black eye,” Charlotte mused, looking at the little pin, and Lola’s face scrunched up, expression falling.

“So? Who gives a shit?” She shrugs, looking away tone having shifted to almost forcibly neutral in an instant, “wear the pin or don’t, I don’t care.” Lola stands with a groan, without giving Charlotte a chance to respond, and calls to Mick that she’s heading to the diner. Mick waves, Tommy calls out a farewell, and Charlotte frowns, wondering what just happened.

“I hate that,” Nikki says flatly, the moment he spots the pin where Charlotte’s fixed it to the strap of her backpack. There’s no hard feelings between them after last week’s altercation, thankfully, though they don’t talk about it. If Charlotte’s glad that he still showed up, if she’s realised she may, in fact, enjoy his company, she keeps that information to herself.

“Lola made it for me,” Charlotte tells him. Nikki leans in, squinting at the handmade pin.

“Of course she did,” he sighs, leaning back. Surprisingly, there’s quiet between them for a few, long moments; maybe, Charlotte considers, this will be one of those mornings where Nikki uses their time together to catch up on sleep, and Charlotte can actually use her free period for it’s intended, study-related purpose, but then Nikki sighs like he wants her to ask what’s wrong.

So she does.

“I need a new band.”

“I can’t help you.”

“I know,” Nikki nods with resignation, “I was gonna ask this guy I work with, Slash, he plays guitar, but he’s already in one -”

“Wait, you don’t mean Duff’s friend Saul Hudson, do you?” Charlotte frowned, intrigued despite the stab of anger she felt at the mere mention of her ex. Nikki seemed taken aback by her question.

“You know Duff McKagan?”

“I dated him for a year and a half,” Charlotte finds herself suddenly very interested in drawing connecting triangles in the back of her notebook, not looking at Nikki, who’s quietly processing this information.

“He’s in a band now,” and neither of them seem to be quite sure why he offered that information, but they both let is hang between them for a moment.

“Makes sense,” Charlotte nods, tone flat, “with Saul - Slash?”

“Yeah,” is all Nikki has to say.

“Slash is a good kid, I always liked him,” Charlotte offered, and finally she looks up, “Tommy plays drums.”

“Marching band isn’t exactly -” Nikki begins, but Charlotte’s shaking her head.

“No, like, legit drums,” she enthuses, “his parents fixed up their whole garage to make it sound proof for him,” but she doesn’t want Nikki to think she’s pushing her cousin on him too hard, not after last week, so she sits back, and crosses her arms, trying to play it cool, “I mean, you can ask him yourself, see if he’s any good.” She shrugs, but Nikki looks like he’s already considering it. 

“How many musicians do you know, Charlie?” He finally asks, giving her a faint, amused smile.

“Probably too many,” Charlotte responds with a longsuffering smile, before her mind turns to the things Tommy himself had told her, “I heard you and Lola are getting along; what’d I tell you?” She teased, and much to her surprise, what she could see of Nikki’s face, for his hair, was turning pink.

“She’s a bitch; you know she’s a bitch, right?” He asks, but he’s grinning, all sharp and dangerously amused.

“I knew you guys would get along,” Charlotte gives a pleased little sigh, as if she’d manufactured their whole friendship herself. Nikki rolls his eyes at her, and the bell goes.

Tommy, as it turns out, thinks they’re sleeping together, at least that’s what he tells Charlotte when they’re on their way to Leo’s after school to meet up with Vince, Razzle, Peach, and Eileen. The news of Nikki and Lola’s potential affair surprises Charlotte at first, but after a moment of consideration, she thinks she should have seen it coming. 

Tommy’s reasoning is that they’ve become friends far quicker than he’d realised, and Nikki’s always giving Lola lifts after work, like they’re going in the same direction, even though he’d pretty sure Nikki doesn’t live near Leo’s. It also turns out that that was what had been bothering him about Nikki and Lola being friends; he still tries to insist he doesn’t have a crush on Lola, but he and Charlotte both know that’s mostly a lie.

So Charlotte can see how conflicted he is when he tells her that Nikki’s looking to start a new band, and that he asked about Tommy possibly playing drums. A beat of silence follows, and then, without looking away from the road, Tommy mutters a quiet thanks, knowing without asking that Charlotte had been the one to recommend him. Charlotte leans over and bumps her forehead against his shoulder in unspoken acknowledgment. 

“Duff’s in a band,” Charlotte’s voice is soft and a little unreadable.

“Sorry,” Tommy mutters, tone somber like it’s the worst news in the world, “we could throw rotten tomatoes at him?” He suggested, at the mental picture alone was enough to make Charlotte laugh, “or is that just in the movies?”

“I think that’s just in the movies,” Charlotte says, amid giggles, “besides, the rest of his band doesn’t deserve that.”

In the week that Razzle’s been in LA, Vince and his family have taken him to several, sophisticated restaurants in the vicinity, and Razzle had apparently loved them all; Leo’s was no different. He was sitting across from Charlotte in the booth, at the end of the table, reading the menu intently as the others chattered away about their day, making noises of intrigue every time he spotted something new he wanted to try. His knee knocked hers under the table, but it barely seemed to register, so engrossed in the menu that he muttered the faintest apology.

“Afternoon, guys, welcome,” Lola at work never failed to startle Charlotte, despite the fact that she’d been here once already since the first time. At least her chipper introduction seemed to bring Razzle back to reality. 

“Hi, yes - oh! I know you!” Razzle lit up at the sight of Lola, and the rest of the gathered teens watched with interest, trying not to give away how intrigued they were to see Lola’s reaction, “Miss Honky Cat, you work here?”

What?

“Alright, Razzle, you found me, did you wanna order something?” Lola says, with a good-natured eyeroll, and an easy grin, hip cocked to one side. Razzle asks her what she recommends, and orders that, and then the rest of them, who had been sitting in stunned silence, are quick to order for themselves.

When she leaves, it’s mere moments before Tommy asks what that was all about, and Razzle’s eyes go wide.

“That’s Lola, innit? From school? She’s in my music class, was playing Honky Cat on the piano in the second music room, the Elton song, you know, when we had some free this morning,” he explained, confused, “she called me Rocketman when I picked what she’d been playing, but I told her my name’s Razzle.” 

“You’re an enigma,” ironically, it’s Eileen who says this, wearing a fond little smile, while Razzle just looked bemused.

“I think it’s the accent, chicks fuckin’ love it,” Vince pipes up, smirking, and Razzle tries to hide his own pleased little grin since he can’t very well deny it, “Pam was all over him in Phys Ed yesterday -”

“We were just having a conversation -” Razzle was quickly turning red, while Vince clutched at his arm, putting on a high voice, twirling his blonde hair around one finger as he pretended to be Pam.

“Oh Nicholas, tell me more about The Clash, please, I want to know more!” He ended with a fake moan, which had Eileen and Peach laughing, while Razzle grabbed Charlotte’s hand and exaggeratedly mouthed ‘help me’. 

“Pam’s into Razzle?” Tommy groaned, breaking the moment, falling dejectedly against Vince, who was already leaning pretty heavily on Razzle, who was then ejected from his seat and onto the floor, while Vince was draped over where he was just sitting, and Tommy was draped over Vince, “I’m gonna die alone.”

Despite Tommy’s despair, the rest of the table was greatly amused.

Thankfully for Razzle, it wasn’t a far fall, and he’d held tight to Charlotte’s hand, so at least he hadn’t ended up flat on his back, and Charlotte gave him an apologetic grin as she helped him to his feet. He lets go to dust himself off, and it’s here Charlotte notices his maroon, velvet pants, and black and white leather shoes with their little heel.

“Fancy threads,” Charlotte points out, notes of approval in her voice. Razzle makes a move to straightening a jacket he’s not wearing, and clicks his heels together, drawing the attention of the rest of the table to his shoes, of which they all make various noises of approval, or at least interest.

“I dress to impress,” and judging by his tone, if he were as crass as Vince or Nikki, he would have winked, but Charlotte’s kind of glad he refrained. He then shoves Vince, and by extension Tommy, back up to a sitting position, retaking his seat across from Charlotte, this time purposefully knocking his knee against hers.

Charlotte’s glad that Lola’s back with their drinks, so she can look at something that’s not Razzle’s sunny smile, because she doesn’t want to think about how pretty it makes him look. Stupid, British, band boy and his stupid, blue eyes.

But then she’s looking at Lola, and all she can remember is Tommy’s dejected expression when he told her that Lola and Nikki were possibly sleeping together, and Nikki’s half-hidden, bashful grin when he calls a bitch with a kind of fondness that Charlotte had never heard from him before. The urge to protect her cousin, from harm, from heartbreak, is carved into her bones, but part of her knows it would him hurt more to let him keep falling for Lola when she’d never really end up catching him. Suddenly staring into the depths of her soda became the safest option.

i have loved since you. but when the new paint gets scratched, there you are underneath.

Heather, of all people, is holding a party, and she tries to limit the amount of people she tells - the squad and her friends were the first to be invited - but of course, the guest list spirals out of control, and it’s exactly one and a half days before Tommy’s mooning over the fact that he’s been invited to a party at an actual cheerleader’s house.

“Dude, you’re killing me here,” Charlotte tells him at lunch; she’s finally sitting with him, Lola, and Nikki, though Nikki’s late. Heather had coyly asked her to ask Vince to bring Razzle - the cute English guy, specifically - and Charlotte had picked up her bag and left. Something about Heather in a good mood was worse than when she was being catty.

“You don’t count, you’re my cousin,” Tommy waived her off, and Lola snorted a laugh from where she was laying in the grass, using her backpack as a pillow. “You going?” Tommy pokes Lola in the ribs and she smacks his hand away, but makes an affirmative noise, and throws her arm over her eyes to shield them from the sun.

Something about how that makes Tommy smile, almost pleased, has worry sinking heavy in Charlotte’s gut. 

“Heather asked me to ask Vince to invite Razzle,” Charlotte’s not quite sure why she says it, or why it makes Lola bark a laugh of her own, but at least it get’s Tommy’s mind off of last time he and Lola were at a party.

“Of course -” Tommy sighs, but then, in the very same breath, he lights up like a lightbulb, “wait! If Heather’s preoccupied with Razzle, and Pam’s going, then I -” he turned sharply to Charlotte, eyes wide, “is Pam seeing anyone?” Charlotte gives him an amused, but longsuffering look, shaking her head.

“You gonna put the moves on her?” Lola’s smirking, and Tommy’s steadily turning red, but refusing to be embarrassed.

“It’s now or never, you know? She’s graduating in a few months, will go to college and date some meathead, college footballer, this is my chance,” he enthused, and Charlotte pet his shoulder in solidarity. 

Nikki joins them halfway through lunch, right as Lola and Charlotte find themselves playing angel and devil on Tommy’s shoulders regarding how he should dress for the party. Charlotte’s firmly of the opinion that he should be be wearing bright, eye-catching things - “Come on, you know Pam likes those new-wave guys!” - while Lola was adamantly recommending to go all-out punk. 

“Don’t ask Nikki’s opinion, you know who he’s going to side with,” Charlotte implored, and as if to prove a point, Nikki throws his bag to the side, and lays down with his head pillowed on Lola’s stomach. 

“Because Nikki has taste,” Lola throws her arm above her head, into the grass, neck at an awkward angle as she looks, wide-eyed to Tommy. 

“Thank you,” Nikki grumbles, and immediately closes his eyes, “what are we arguing about?” A pause, then, “and why is Charlie here?”

“Heather asked Charlie to bring Razz to the party next weekend,” Tommy says, the words sounding rote off his tongue, before he gets into the meat of the argument, laying himself back in the grass. Somehow it makes Charlotte feel left out, being the only one left marginally upright, and she slouches a little lower against the fence. 

Tommy explains his conundrum, and much to everyone’s surprise, Nikki refrains from giving his opinion, sighting that he has no clue what Pam would like, and that he’s not taking the fall if Tommy looks like a dickhead and crashes and burns while talking to, arguably, the most popular girl in school.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, asshole,” Tommy groans, without really thinking, and as the realization and subsequent horror took over his expression, Lola barked a laugh, and even Nikki was grinning.

The moment was surprisingly light, Tommy’s face buried in his hands, though he’s now hiding a smile, and Charlotte is surprised at how easy it is to smile and laugh here, these people accepting her presence without another thought. The politics of the cafeteria make it all feel so foreign, but Tommy said ‘Charlie’s sitting here now’ and Nikki and Lola took it in stride.

And later, Eileen will ask her where she was at lunch, will go on to sigh and roll her eyes as she recounts barely sitting through five minutes of the cheerleaders buzzing like cheerful, little hornets, discussing who would be at the party, and how they would coordinate their outfits. She’d spent another five minutes with the swim team, who spent the entire time picking apart her backstroke technique since she ‘finally decided to join them’.

“This is why I don’t sit with them,” Eileen had frowned, sitting in the McDonalds carpark, absentmindedly violating her soda with it’s straw out of frustration, Charlotte, wide-eyed, quietly eats her terrible, oily fries, and lets Eileen vent, “if I have to listen to one more five-am-gym-going-wannabe-sports-scholarship tell me my form is off, I’m going to go full Carrie-At-The-Prom at our next meet,” Eileen warned, and reached over to snatch a fry. Very few people were ever privy to Eileen’s frustration, as the redhead seemed to do a rather good job of bottling it up, but Charlotte personally felt honored that her friend could be so honest around her.

“I was thinking of joining yearbook, maybe? Or the school paper with...” a strange moment of hesitation, “with Peach,” Eileen paused, taking a long moment to think, and take a sip of her drink, eyes glass as she stared out at the highway as cars passed before them, “auditions for the school play are on Friday,” she adds, like she’s seriously considering it, “it’s Singin’ In The Rain, Keanu actually suggested I should audition.” The idea that Keanu and Eileen have talked enough for him to suggest that she audition for a musical and for her to serious consider it is kind of baffling; Charlotte doesn’t process the meaning behind any of this now, however, just files it away in the back of her mind for later.

“Macy moved to Portland over the Summer,” Charlotte feigns seriousness with her suggestion instead, trying not to give away how amused she is, already anticipating Eileen’s response, “we’re holding cheer tryouts to replace her on Tuesday,” Eileen’s expression is already souring, almost comedically disgusted at Charlotte’s implied suggestion, though she lets the blonde finish, “you were the best bottom-right to the pyramid we’ve ever had,” she said, barely stifling giggles as Eileen turns to her.

“I’d rather die,” her lip curled, and Charlotte leaned over the center console of the minivan to press her forehead against Eileen’s shoulder, and Eileen reaches up with her free hand to scratch gently at Charlotte’s scalp, before bursting out with, “and my form’s not even bad! The coach loves me, Charlie, she loves me, they just think they’re better than me, bunch of clique-y, insular, webbed-toe bitches.”

The words hang in the air, a surprising outburst from the usually reserved and thoughtful girl.

“Do they really have webbed toes?” Charlotte asks, turning so her temple still pressed against the soft cashmere of Eileen’s sweater, but she was following the ginger’s gaze out to the highway ahead. Eileen gives a tired, little laugh, as if her outburst had left her exhausted.

“No.”

Charlotte wants more than anything to ask her what’s wrong, but knows better than anyone that Eileen only says exactly what she wants someone else to know. Instead, she offers her fries silently. Eileen takes one.

“Peach and I got into a fight today,” voice barely above a whisper, Eileen follows her words with a sigh, and suddenly her out of character frustration made complete, and utter sense. For all that she’s known both Peach and Eileen, Charlotte has never known their altercations to be quick or painless affairs, “Vince invited her to Heather’s party.”

“He invited her himself?” Charlotte’s not sure what the issue is beyond their general dislike of Vince, but if Vince himself is starting to possibly change, then it’s hard to see the issue. 

“Yeah,” Eileen seems to know what Charlotte’s thinking, and pauses to find the right words, “I don’t trust him, and I don’t know how she can trust him either.” There’s a quality to her voice that Charlotte’s only heard rarely; uncertainty, “and I don’t want her going to Heather’s party, I barely want to go myself, and what if she drinks, and what if she does terrible things she regrets -?” Eileen cuts herself off, squeezing her eyes shut and leaning her head back against the headrest.

“I get it,” Charlotte says, so gentle, so understanding, but Eileen’s still quiet.

“She’s my little sister, Charlie,” Eileen sighed, “and it’s like our parents couldn’t care less, so I have to protect her, and I have to keep her from the guy she thinks is the love of her life, and I have to be the one to always remind her of all the shitty things he’s done and remind her that life isn’t a goddamn fairytale.” She sounds close to tears, soda cup between her knees and hands clutching, white knuckled, at the steering wheel, or else she may have been tearing her hair out. 

There was a shake in her voice, tight and exhausted in equal measure, like the words had sat, unspoken, pressed against her teeth, for far longer than Charlotte had realized she’d been thinking them. Charlotte rests her hand on Eileen’s. 

“She loves you more than anyone else in the world, you know that right? She’s just sixteen, you know all the drama and shit we went through last year -”

“I can’t watch her go through what you went through with Duff,” the words escaped Eileen in a rush, and she clamps her mouth shut, sitting forward in the driver’s seat, lips pressed into a thin line, as Charlotte’s heart sank in her chest, “I’m sorry.”

“No, I know what you mean,” Charlotte sat back in her own seat, nodding dejectedly, fiddling with her bracelet. 

“You... Charlie, you know you’re my best friend, and I love you, and seeing you in pain with no way to help,” Eileen’s hands slid down the sides of the steering wheel as she forced herself to relax, though her words have Charlotte’s heart swelling with fondness, “it fucking killed me,” she admitted, leaning back, letting her shoulders sags with the weight of her words, like the weight of the world, and as she leaned back, she looked to Charlotte, so unguarded, so sincere, “I can’t let Vince break Peach’s heart like that.”

Eileen has always looked and seemed older than her seventeen years, but it’s strange to see her like this, to be reminded that she holds within her this unassuming duality. To protect is her first instinct, herself, her feelings, her friends, her family, but she’s still so young, just a kid; she still deserves to be protected too.

“I’m so tired,” Eileen murmurs, gaze dropping to her hands, now folded in her lap, and she huffs a humorless laugh, “I’m seventeen, Charlie, I’m fucking tired of feeling thirty.”

[orangerosebush]

What’s in a name?

[ao3 link]

Juliet Butler was used to sharing. The weight of her last name. Her brother. Her space within the manor. It seemed that just by being born at this time, within this family, she was expected to follow a certain path in life that was so far tangled up in the Fowls as to not really be hers at all.

It didn’t surprise her brother when she sat him down at age 18 and told him she was going to try a crack at something new in America with the wrestling circuit, but it did surprise him when she came back a mere three years later. It was shortly after when Artemis checked into the psychiatrist in Haven — she had come to the clinic with Butler and Artemis, and she took the shuttle back to the manor with Butler.

Butler didn’t want to say anything too pointed. They’d have to talk about if she was here to stay for good eventually, but she had just gotten back; he knew that she was proud enough that she’d pack her bags again if she felt he was suggesting her experiment in the U.S. with carving her own path had failed.

So they didn’t talk about it. They both went on, carefully watching each other as they circled around the elephant in the room.

It had been a week since she arrived at the manor, and it looked like they could avoid the subject altogether if they tried hard enough. Their patterns during the day were certainly different enough that they could rely on their interactions being brief enough to make having a conversation about what Juliet was going to do easy to sidestep.

He was far busy enough trying to explain to Mrs. Fowl why her son was staying with a psychologist a few thousand kilometers under the earth’s surface. Neither the mental health conversation nor the magic conversation was going particularly well, he winced. Of course, Mr. Fowl was significantly out of the loop, but he’d never really been in any loop regarding his son. At least with Myles and Beckett, he could trust that Juliet was enough of a distraction from Artemis’ second leave of the family. Both the boys had noticed, of course, that their brother was gone again, but they were too dazzled by the newness of Juliet to ask either their mother or him about where Artemis was.

Butler leaned back in his chair, looking out of his room’s window at the sunlight. The clouds had cleared for the first time in a while, and the Fowl estate sprawled out across the surrounding acres of land. The wing that his room was in faced the old forest on the grounds, and he could just about make out the distant scene of Juliet and the boys by the pond at the edge of the trees. Juliet appeared to be allowing Becket to sit on her shoulders while Myles sat on the grass and looked at the water.

He smiled to himself, feeling the lines under his eyes crease upwards. From a distance, she could have been their older sister. Pulling his eyes away from the glass, he glanced back at the inside of the room. He sighed. Rolling his shoulders, he reached for the book he’d set down on his coffee table last night.

⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢ The manor was quiet. Juliet paused at the bottom of the staircase, hand ghosting over the handrail. If she looked close enough, she could make out the scuffs that Artemis and her brother weren’t quite able to get out of the wall after the troll wrecked the hallway during the hostage situation. She exhaled slightly, a grin quirking the sides of her mouth upwards as she imagined Artemis getting snippy over her usage of ‘hostage situation’. “Please, Juliet,” she remembered him sighing a while back. “It’s rude to leave out the nuance of it all like that”.

She tightened her grip on the banister. Slowly, Juliet made her way up towards her room.

⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢

There was a knock on the door. Butler set his book on his lap.

“Come in,” he called out, fully prepared to see Angeline.

The door opened cautiously, and there was Juliet, her hand lingering on the doorknob.

“Hey,” she scuffed her feet against the carpet. Butler blinked.

“Er, hi.”

They both stood there, self-consciously waiting for the other to say something.

“I took the twins outside.”

“I saw. They seemed to have a good time.”

Juliet shrugged, finally walking all the way in to the room. Letting the door close slowly behind her, she sat down gently on the edge of his bed. “Yeah, I guess. They like the pond. I remember liking getting into whatever was muddiest on the property when I was their age.”

He grinned. Butler remembered taking Juliet outside to run before dark when she was young — she’d always had a wild child energy to her.

“Beckett reminds me of you,” he smiled. “He’s very determined to find trouble somewhere on the grounds I’ve worked so hard at child-proofing.”

Juliet rolled her eyes. “They’re both troublemakers.”

“True,” Butler laughed, leaning back in his chair. Juliet grinned. She stretched slightly, flopping back onto the bed.

“It’s weird being back,” she sighed. “Like, I’m back in my old room, and what’s still up on the wall? The Spice Girls poster I had when I was, what, eight? It’s like a time capsule I don’t even want.”

“I’m sure most twenty-somethings coming back from university feel the same way about seeing the stuff they plastered up all over their room when they were younger,” he chuckled softly.

At that, she sat back up to look at him, putting her weight on her right arm. “I’m not most twenty-somethings, though. I didn’t even go to uni—“

Butler scrunched his face up in confusion. “Do you even want to go to uni?”

Juliet groaned, gripping the duvet in annoyance. “I don’t know if I want to go to uni, that’s the thing! I thought I wanted to go to America, be a wrestler, but then something happened with Artemis. And, a-and I was sitting in the hospital cafeteria with Mulch, and you know what I realized? I’d tried professional wrestling, and now I was bored! I love wrestling! I love my teammates! I love traveling and seeing new people, and getting to be Juliet instead of Juliet Butler. But I still woke up each day loving the gig a little less than I did the night before, and I can’t live like that. You know that, Dom.”

Juliet’s eyes were shining, and she loosened her grip on the bed sheets. Butler set his book down gently on the floor. Standing slowly, his knees cursing him, he moved to sit next to her.

“I missed you,” he said simply. “I’m sorry about America.”

She reached over, putting her hand on his shoulder. “I missed you, too.”

“I want you to know that you can stay as long as you need. I can also help you find an apartment nearby if what you need to is to be here without being here, if that makes sense.”

Juliet let out a small grin, retracting her hand from his shoulder to rub the wetness from her eyes. “I like my old room, but thanks.”

She grabbed a pillow, holding it on her lap and looking up at the ceiling pensively. “I don’t want to just be a Butler for Myles and Beckett, though. That’s never going to be me, I know that.”

“I know. I think the Fowls know that, too.”

Juliet nodded earnestly. “Cool. That’s good.”

“Thank you for talking to me about this, by the way,” Butler sighed, looking at her.

“I don’t care what happens — at the end of the day, I’m still your older brother. I want you to let me in when you’re hurting—“ Juliet scoffed, but he continued. “I know you’re not a child anymore, I know that! But I hate the idea of you feeling as though you have to go it alone because you need to prove something to the world,” he finished, eyes pleading.

The two of them sat in silence, the sound of birds outside filtering into the room the only noise in the room. Finally, Juliet sighed, leveling her gaze on him.

“Okay.”

He started. “O-okay?”

She snorted, throwing her pillow at him. “Yeah, okay, nerd. I’ll keep you in the loop.”

Butler caught the pillow, laughing incredulously. “Okay!”

Suddenly, Juliet’s eyes widened. “I still have to tell my manager that I’m dropping out, shit”

Butler stared at her. “You didn’t tell him?”

She waved a hand dismissively. “I think he knows, considering it’s been, what, a couple of weeks by now? But after you showed up,” she jabbed him with a finger pointedly. “I was so caught up in whatever end-of-the-world business Artemis had gotten us caught up in that I never gave my ‘official’ two-weeks notice, or whatever.”

Butler sat there in silence for a moment, thinking. “I… don’t think you should call him, actually.”

“Me neither.”

“I think he’s going to be pissed.”

“Wow, really? Because I think he’ll be psyched one of the best acts in the group just dropped out without letting him know. Dom, obviously I’m gonna get yelled at by him if I so much as look at my phone.”

A side of Butler’s mouth quirked upwards. “One of the best acts?”

Juliet sniffed. “I was being humble. I’m a Butler, it’s clear I’m the best.”

At that, he laughed, and she shoved him. “Shut up! I am going to let him know eventually. I’m telling Sam that I’m not rejoining the troupe tonight—”

“Sam?” Butler frowned, and Juliet stuck her tongue out at him.

“Don’t be annoying. She’s my teammate. You saw her and I sparring before you dragged me off to Haven. We’re scheduled for matches together, so she, out of everybody, deserves to know first about my decision,” she chided.

“I wasn’t prying!” Butler said defensively.

“Fiiiine, you weren’t prying,” Juliet teased. Butler rolled his eyes.

“So, she’s your teammate. That’s nice! I’m glad you have friends in the troupe.” Butler tossed the pillow back to its original place on his bed.

“Yeah, it is nice. She’s cool, you’d like her. It’s… stupid, but I already kind of miss her,” Juliet’s tone softened. Butler’s eyes widened slightly. Oh.

“You could ask her to visit sometime, if you’d like,” he offered, trying to be nonchalant.

Juliet hummed. “Maybe. I’ll see how things go tonight with her.”

With that, she stood up from the bed. “I’m going to get ready for dinner. I think we’ve had enough awkward sibling heart-to-heart conversations for today,” she grinned, and Butler knew that eventually, things would be okay. Maybe they wouldn’t go back to normal, but that was okay. He had his sister back.

Pausing at the door, Juliet turned to face him. “It’s nice to be back home with you, Dom.”

He smiled. “Love you, too, Jules”

Juliet grinned, closing the door after her, and Butler was left alone. The sun was starting to get low in the sky, and the light cast shadows across his room.

He picked up his book again, running his fingers down the spine to stop at the name of the author. Violet Tsirblou. The book was, in all honesty, quite bad. The dialogue was awkward, the plot stilted, and the characters alien-feeling. Butler felt the smile lines on his face deepen. Artemis must have written it when he was about ten.

Butler put his hand on the window sill, his gaze falling on the pond. Myles and Beckett. Artemis and Juliet.

It would all be okay, in the end. It had to be. Butler let his hand fall from the sill. Sitting back down tiredly, he opened the book to where he had left it.

[oh-for-fic-sake]

Brucie Baby~

You decide to top Bruce.

Masterlist

Warning: Adult situations +18, Smut, Oral, Teasing, Femdom switch, Name calling, Swearing, Anal, Dubcon, Spitting (once)

A/n: okay so... Yeah as you can probably tell by now I am more of a bottom, but I really really wanted to give this a shot not to sure how I feel about it but I do hope that people like it, its really smutty. enjoy xx

Taglist @125bluemachine125​

Brucie Baby~

Bruce was down in the Bat cave working on his latest device upon taking Clark's advice he had taken you to the hospital for a heart check up. As it turned out you do have an abnormal heart rate, an arrhythmia tachycardia no murmur or damage yet and not dangerous thank god but you needed to have it monitored. So Bruce was making you a tiny ecg, much like the ones on sports watches but as you had refused to wear one he was making one in the form of a thin flat delicate chain mail looking bracelet with a small platinum plate with Sweets engraved underneath and a small onyx on the top the bracelet was a modern looking piece small and was versatile, it would go with anything and more importantly it would send the data straight to his phone and computer wirelessly, he even set it up to log in the bat computer just to make sure it was never lost. He may or may not have also put a teeny tiny tracker on it to but you wouldn't be privy to either just yet holding his breath as he clipped the last piece in place holding it to the inside of his wrist then outside checking the data on his phone as it lit up recording his pulse, with one last look he was satisfied he pulled it away tucking it into a velvet lined gift box bought specifically for the piece. Standing he stretched looking up at the time six am he would need to be ready to leave at eight. It was your six month anniversary and you were both going to spend the week at his own little slice of paradise, since what was now called 'the incident' things had changed slightly he was a little hesitant when being intimate, not that he didn’t love you or anything like that he would argue that you didn’t just own his heart, you was his heart but he was afraid of hurting you at first it was because of your injuries, then your it was your heart now he was just worried not wanting to accidentally hurt you, not only that but he was stressed, he kept on replaying that night over and over, the way he slammed the breaks but knew he wasn’t going to stop in time, all he could do was watch as you came closer and closer. He was so close to loosing you that he didn’t want to risk any harm whatsoever including in the bed room. Alfred said he was being silly that you wasn’t going anywhere and that as long as you had your safe word you was safe, he didn't even bother to ask where Alfred had learned about that he thought he was better off not knowing. It was also Alfred who had suggested the week away together noting you was both a bit stressed with the incident then the move. So that what was happening a trip to his small private island in the Maldives, Dick was coming to stay and fill in for him on patrol. He snapped the box shut leaving the cave, when he arrived to the bed room he stopped dead seeing you sitting up reading with a travel mug you turned to him smiling.

"Hey baby, how was it tonight?" he shrugged turning closing the door.

"Not much, stopped a kidnapping and an a few assaults small things really"

"Not to the victims they wont be. I heard the boys come up earlier you stayed down there a while." he smiled slipping off his tight tshirt strategically throwing it on the chair covering the small jewelry box as he dropped that as well.

"Yes working on something"You smiled curling your toes into the bed beneath you.

"Oh really a new gadget? Oh oh is it a lazer? Please tell me its a lazer I have always wanted to play with one like the ones in James bond!" He gave you a look

"No its not a lazer and if it was you definitely wouldn't get your hands on it" you pouted but not for long as your favorite part of the day began it was the best bit of living here full time getting your daily dose of Bruce's delicious body without fail, he smirked dropping his bottoms and pants in one swoop as he made his way across the room. You watched him quietly biting your lip as he snuck into the bed slowly crawling up beside you plucking your kindle from your hand snapping it shut dropping it on the side table then slid higher leaning over you taking your mug from you placing it beside the kindle. You sighed at him shivering a little as his cock brushed the top of your thigh wetting the shorts you wore to bed as it twitched to life against you.

"And just what do you think your doing Mr Wayne? you know we have a flight to catch in what two hours?" he hummed tugging on your arms leaning down to your neck whispering into your neck

"It's my Jet it wont leave without me" you sighed pulling his face up abruptly holding him firm before pressing your lips to his, he was a little shocked to say the least but soon gave into you as you plundered his mouth forcefully taking what you wanted from him twisting and toying with his tongue before making him shiver as you ran the tip of your tongue over the roof of his mouth then sucked harshly pulling on his tongue he moaned when you pulled back. Blinking a little confused as to where that aggression had come from but you felt just how much he had liked the change of pace  as you gripped his now fully erect cock between your delicate hands tugging once twice and one final third time twisting as the went rubbing over his slit making him bite off a groan arching into your hand with eager hips.Perfect.

"Well I don't think it would be nice to keep the pilot waiting, so I'm off to have a shower and recheck my bag and you should to, I'd say sleep but you don't have time" you said he moaned trying to grab you as you slipped out of the bed licking your lips, oh yes this trip would be incredible. You see you had fully healed from the night you discovered Bruce's secret and had been forced to the hospital about your heart and although it wasn't anything to worry about yet. Bruce had been very delicate with you. Not that you haven't enjoyed the sex but it wasn't the same, so you was stuck not sure what to do,you had already asked him but he insisted you wait a few more weeks to be sure. You wanted to do something get him so riled up that he would forget everything that has happened and ravage you once and for all. You smiled to yourself you had gone to Alfred for suggestions Alfred about what you should do to help. Alfred being the good sport he was smirked telling you to leave it with him already having a plan in mind, the next day a note had been slipped under your morning coffee with a single web address. You laughed giddy when you looked and saw a plethora of adult toys all dedicated to one kink Femdom safe to say most of the money you saved since living at the manor had brought you a whole arsenal of toys that was already at the house waiting as Alfred had arranged for it to be shipped directly there. You stopped just before walking through the door to the bathroom turning back to Bruce as he laid sprawled out on his back hand creeping to his cock that tented the blankets

"Oh and Bruce? leave that alone its mine if you don't you'll be sorry" you smirked at the shocked look on his face having to enter the bathroom quickly before you lost your composure and started laughing at the confused man. He through his head back cock twitching, you were up to something and he didn't know what but what he did know is he couldn't fucking wait. Closing his eyes he willed his raging boner to relax a little but he could still feel the tingles left by your hands. Shit. He heaved a sigh once he heard the shower, quickly getting up and hiding the bracelet in his packed bag stuffing the small box in his side pocket before beginning to get ready, he didn't need sleep yet he could wait until the flight and would probably nap by the sea once at the island. He sighed when racing past you when you stepped out of the shower turning it cold to help settle his problem you smirked nodding at him a little.

Thirty seven hours later you found yourselves stepping off of the plane the first thing you noticed was it was hot....Fucking hot you was happy you only had a thin dress on and the second was the sight that greeted you took your breath away you stood looking at what had to be a photo because this could not be real Bruce came up behind you yawning and stretching as he had just woken up, he looked well rested for the first time in weeks. He walked behind you kissing the back of your neck hugging you close.

"You like it?

""It-Bruce this is incredible I've  never seen anything like this not in real life" you was awe struck by the pure white sand and crystal clear water, in front of you was a small thatched building that looked like it was for maintenance, beyond that a lush patch of brightly colored plants you could hear parrots and various other wild life in the trees and peaking thought you could see the beach. A long pier extending out with a large house at the end that you'd seen on the brochures from here you could see the slide that wrapped around it from the roof into the sea. you smiled turning to him excitedly

"Oh my god a slide? does it have one of those nets? you know the one that hangs over the water that you can lay on?" you asked jumping up a little he laughed nodding.

"Yes and the slide was for the boys when they were younger but I'm sure you will make use of it, there is an infinity pool at the back to, Jason got freaked out by the fish when he was little so I had it put in for him." you giggled as you saw someone you didn't recognize pick up your bags piling them into a small jeep Bruce walked you over to it holding you around the waist.

"Jason really? was he frightened of them?"

"No I wouldn't say frightened, he just didn't like the idea of them touching him, he loved watching them hence the pool is glass he would dive holding the top with his goggles and snorkel I was even considering getting some coral around it to encourage more but the more fish would have drawn sharks and I decided against it not with the boys." you snapped your head to him as you sat side by side in the Jeep as it started moving down the dirt road towards the house.

"Sharks? do they come close?" he patted your thigh at the cute expression

"Don't worry most are babies...Tho there was that hammer head that swam straight into the glass pool that one time, and the reef shark of 08 he hung about for a few days swimming below the house I wouldn't let the boys out it was quiet big, turns out they were fucking feeding it! Well Dick was, wanted to tame it and brag to everyone that he had a pet shark." you laughed you could imagine them sneaking out throwing food at the dangerous creature.

"Was that when Jason asked for the pool by any chance?" you said slyly as the jeep rounded the corner pulling out of the trees to the beach parking by the huge pier. You glanced along the beach noticing a large sunken area with a curved stone wall with wooden bench wrapped around it and huge sunken firepit full of smooth glittering stones. You jumped out of the car following Bruce down the the pier both taking your suitcases and rolling them behind you as you walked hand in hand down the long wooden structure hearing the jeep drive off back towards the airfield.

"Never though about it but yes it was it must, have scared him. I only found out they was feeding the damn thing when I caught Dick trying to get in the water with it,the silly little sod was adamant that he had 'tamed the beast' I only just dragged him out of the water in time. I can tell you he didn't try that again after the hiding he got." you chuckled but felt sorry for the boy. You finally arrived at the sleek modern villa upon entering you sighed in relief as the aircon was in full swing cooling the house to a comfortable tempature, it was one story the whole back of the building was huge panes of glass giving an uninterrupted view of the sea beyond it was open planned with the master bedroom on the far left of the house and two rooms for the boys on the far right in the middle was an open plan light and airy kitchen with center island and dining table in front and large living room with sunken u shaped sofa facing a fireplace with tv above, out side you could see the pool and large hammock net beside it to the left was a set of stairs integrated into the side of the house you assumed it was for the slide. It was beautiful he directed you through to the bed room placing your bags down you gasped as the view was stunning you almost felt like you was just skimming the clear water.

"Bruce this is-its beautiful, I've never seen anything like this" he smiled approaching you slowly placing his hands on your shoulders pulling you back against him.

"Good I’m glad you like it, I'm going to have a quick shower and change I will be right back" you nodded turning giving him a deep kiss before letting him go. Once he left through the door you moved fast finding your order that Alfred said was in here and ripping it open finding your toys, you guessed that you had around ten minuets which was enough you raced to the bed with the box quickly unwrapping what you assumed was the comfort hand cuffs, basically normal click hand cuffs with a soft lining they had a quick release to you noted you gave them the once over the chain between them was think so hopefully they would contain him, not wasting time you quickly threaded them threw the bars of the head bored looping it around twice and stuffed it down beside the mattress out of sight then repeated with two separate cuffs on either side of the base board. You quickly made your way back to the box pulling out your other goodies quickly fiddling with them figuring out how each thing worked and moved crawling under the bed finding a plug socket and plugged in the rechargeable wand and plug vibrator you sighed standing back up doing another round of the room checking everything was hidden. Smiling you fist pumped the air and pulled out the final thing you had got the the cherry on the smutty cake as it were. It looked a little tight but you could make do quickly stuffing it back in the box and fished out the rest from your suitcase then kicked it across the room out of the way. You panicked slightly trying to remember everything you had seen in the videos. You had planned this for just over a week using the time he was away at night to watch ridiculous amounts of femdom porn wanting to get this spot on. You knew he would like this just from the way he got turned on when you became as he called it 'Mama bear' you took a deep breath you could do this. You'd pay for it later .but you could do this. You kicked off your shoes and dress lying on the bed in only your panties you had forsaken your bra on the flight you turned facing away from the bathroom door staring out to the sea, it calmed you hearing the waves in the distance and the soft laps of water on the columns holding the house up just below the floor you nearly drifted off to sleep. Suddenly the bathroom door opened and Bruce came waltzing in clad in only a towel."All ready and waiting for me love? I thought we could go relax in the Jacuzzi for a bit but if you insist, after all I do owe you for yesterday" he said quickly throwing the towel away and crawling on the bed you rolled over to meet him half way kissing him lightly at first before moving slowly sitting up deepening the kiss you moaned as he bit your lip sucking it then released opening your mouth you welcomed him letting him explore your mouth slowly before you latched on to his tongue sucking it quickly and biting it lightly rolling over to lounge across him he smirked cupping your ass as you moved straddling him you looked down noticing he was already half hard.smirking you shuffled up sitting on his cock trapping it between your covered pussy and his own abdomen a leaning over kissing him again slowly clasping his hands maneuvering them up past his head. Distracting him by running kisses across his jaw suckling and biting harshly making him moan the he returned the favor sucking a dark mark on your neck. Yes almost there. You guided his hands further across the pillows and grinded on him making sure to keep him occupied then CLICK! he flinched jerking his arms pulling his face away from you. You giggled at the shocked look on his face

"ERR Babe wh-what are you doing there hun?" he asked there was a tremor to his voice. you grinned at him leaning down to him again kissing his chest.

"I want to play Brucie baby~ You see you've been gentle and I just don't know what I have to do to get you to rough me up a bit. First I thought if I was a good girl you'd reward me, fuck me stupid again like you did before. I know you was worried that you'd hurt me again but sometimes a bit of pain is good. Soooo I thought that I'd show you." you winked at him crawling backwards down the length of his body leaving soft kisses. He stared mouth open speechless as you slid off of the bed, you could see it in the way his pupils were blown, eyes clouded with lust he was enjoying himself and the slight bobbing of his semi erect cock was a very good indicator. He shook his head laughing a little and smirked.

"Oh you think you can top me baby girl because you have a set of handcuffs? Fine I will play along give me your best shot"

"Oh baby, you are so going to regret that" you smiled bending down licking your lips as you quickly cuffed each of his ankles spreading him open you tutted and walked across the room to the box pulling out a two little elastic rings towards him,he visibly flinched and gulped a little as you stalked to the bed holding the toys.

"Hey wh-where did you get that? How do you even know what that is? my sweet lovely little girlfreind, you know I love you right babe?" you giggled sitting on the bed as he tested his cuffs trying to shift away from you as you ran the tip of a finger up and down his lower abdomen.

"Of course I know you love me I love you to and I'm pretty sure this is on your list isn't it? the big bad bat of Gotham who is always in control day and night wants to take the back seat once in a while? to be completely at my mercy for once?" he nodded a little swallowing dryly still trying to get his head around the fact that you, tiny innocent y/n had cuffed him to the bed and was stroking his stomach getting him ready for a fucking cock ring. You giggled placing your hand on the crown of his cock rubbing and teasing him with the pads of your fingers making his hiss arching leaning down licking at him then slowly dragged the tips of your nails up and over his whole length until finally he rose fully erect and ready, you made quick work of placing the cock ring over him rolling it down the pulled both balls through it gently moving him through the tight loop letting go he moaned as it started squeezing him tight then you moved quick placing the second one at his base trapping his balls between the two elastics you parted with a kiss and nip to them making him arch off the bed groaning loud panting heavy, he hissed as they constricted his heated flesh keeping him pointing directly up. You then tapped the head lightly sucking on it once then pulled away."Now I will be right back just going to freshen up." you said walking of to the side lifting your new outfit ignoring his protests listening as he tugged at the bonds swearing as he realized he might not be able to break away. He was fucked utterly fucked but oh boy was he going to enjoy it, this was his darkest deepest fantasy that no woman had ever even attempted, in his playboy years he had always been treated like a sugar daddy, they expected him to top each time ,they were desperate just wanting him to dominate them, control them and then fuck them silly. It was a secret desire that he was almost ashamed of, absolutely no one new not even Alfred who knew everything about him. He absolutely loved topping it was his thing but every now and then he wants to be topped, the idea of you using him, controlling him.

"UGH fuuuck" he cried out as the thought made his cock harden bouncing a little as he was held high moaning and twitching as he tried to focus on his breathing instead of the tight delicious throbbing of his cock. Meanwhile you entered the bathroom putting on your new outfit, well you use the term outfit loosely it was one of those cute goth girl type harnesses that looped in v's across your breasts wrapping up around your neck in a choker and matching thong you paired it with Bruce’s favorite stocking and garter set thick band of lace wrapped around your waist attached to matching lace trimmed stockings and killer heels- he liked you in heels- then ruffled your hair applying you expensive red long wear lipstick, this particular one needs a special lipstick remover and had also been a new purchase just for this. You grabbed the last item a fierce looking black riding crop. oh yes this was worth epilating for. You felt so ready for this your insides aching for him if everything went to plan you’d be thoroughly fucked out by the end of the day then took a deep breath pushing aside your own arousal. Not yet today was for Bruce. Hearing the rattle of the cuffs a and a deep frustrated moan. You opened the door strutting to wards the bed watching him whither trying to tug himself free, he hadn't noticed you yet you licked your lips in anticipation. Excellent. you quickly brought the crop down on the v above his angry looking cock making him hiss and stop mouth agape as he saw you.

"Fuck me" he said drinking in your form you smirked sitting on the bed running the tip of the crop up his neck pressing on his jaw to close it humming at him.

"Not yet baby we've only just started, oh honey that looks uncomfortable~" you said tapping his red swollen cock with the crop quickly he grunted, couldn't take his eyes off of you as you got up and walked around the bed sliding beneath it you came back up resting your head on your elbow on the bed level with his face

."I almost feel bad about what I'm going to do you you. But this is a lesson you need isn't it love?" you watched his eyes widen as you lifted your hand holding a Pink wand vibrator. His breath hitched yep he was definitely completely and utterly fucked with capital F. He moaned

"No nono Sweets come on! that's not fair!" You smirked at him as he growled tugging on the cuffs again.

"OH but it is Brucie it is fair, pay back is a bitch and so am I" You picked up the crop striking him across the stomach with it leaving red strips across him then once lightly on the fat head of his cock as you moved taking your place between his spread thighs. Stroking him lightly barely touching him swirling your fingers around him making him swear at your cool hands.

"Today my love you are not Bruce Wayne, you are not the bat or even the boss. No today you are a little subby, little Brucie baby and lastly but definitely not least you are my toy!" You smiled as he grunted loud trying to buck, tho you wasn't sure if it was away or towards your hand.

"Im counting on you using my safe word if things get to much for you ,you remember what it is?" You asked him still stroking him slowly pressing your fingers every so often as you twisted making sure to rub the sensitive underside of his head a little making him hiss and groan

"Brownies" you smiled leaning down ghosting your breath on him. Letting one hand slip to the apex of your own thighs shuddering as you made contact with your engorged clit rubbing lightly coaxing small gasps and moans.

"Good boy, such a good boy" before you licked at his slit he groaned thrusting up trying to penetrate your mouth. You pulled back scraping him with your teeth collecting some precum along the way making a point of sticking out your tongue to him showing him his own seed before swallowing it licking your lips  tutting you moved your hand clenching your hand around him reprimanding him.

"OH baby you want my mouth? you'll have to behave then and I might let you have it" he swore when you placed the wand sneakily beneath both rings pressing it tightly against the flesh below his balls flicking it on.

"OH FUUUCK shitshit thats-Ahh!" he grunted torn between trying to press down and pull away as the vibrations traveled from his root to tip making the elastics tremble against one another teasing his trapped cock, you smiled wickedly before flicking it up not one but two levels enjoying the cry that ripped from deep in his chest, it was an unexpected pleasure watching as his whole upper body tensed curling his muscles bulging trying to free himself he panted a few deep breaths then held his breath grunting before panting quickly again whining trying to rut into it. Quickly you pulled it away before he could cum giggling as he through himself back on the bed panting already covered in sweat you didn’t give him long to recover before pressing it hard to the swollen balls peaking taught from between the rings. The reaction was immediate this time his whole body ceasing, locking and trying to squirm away all at once. Slowly you moved it up to his weeping head rolling it around in delicate circles he grunted throwing his head back into the pillows turning his head to his bicep biting down trying to stifle his moans but couldn't hold back for lone as you tortured him with slow deliberate strokes.

"OH FUCK PLEASE! Pleaseplease baby fuck yes I'm so close! NO! NONONO" Just as he started rocking moaning higher and more desperate you pulled away pouting at him you wriggled on your knees rubbing your thighs together watching him fall apart was the most arousing thing you’d ever seen, unable to take it anymore as you soaked your own thighs you spoke.

"You know your right its not fair" you quickly straddled him placing the wand beneath your swollen folds then pressed down rubbing on it. You moaned as Bruce thrashed beneath you trying to touch .So close yet so far. You as you rocked on the toy crying out as the vibrations made your swollen clit ache and swell with need but at the same soothed you as your pussy clenched leaking on the toy panting softly.

"OH! that's it fuck yesyesyes" you leaned forward hands on his chest looking straight in his eyes mouth open as you tensed quivering feeling his muscles tense the wand low enough on his abdomen to tease the muscles of his pelvis tensing forcing his cock to throb and move before he knew what was happening he was arching shouting his pleasure as he came for the first time bucking despite the cock ring still holding him at a full attention. You laughed at him as you carried on thrusting wildly on him leaning down more to kiss at his open mouth. He met you in a ferocious battle of tongues desperate for any contact he could get panting and shivering. You stopped yourself short gasping sliding off of him taking the toy with you. You would wait.

"Oh baby look at all this mess?" You said flicking off the wand you wouldn't need it now. He panted hissing through his teeth as you began to crawl over him sucking him sharply making him yelp out.

"FUUUCK NONONO BABY DONT IT'S TO MUCH-AHH UGH UGH NO PLEEEAASSEE!" You chuckled as he fought desperate to get away and stop you, ignoring him you pushed onto him swallowing him down until, your nose was flush against him moaning loud onto him he cried out higher then you had ever heard him then pulled back slowly bobbing onto him he panted cried and swore as you continued using your lips as you ran along his length popping off of him he went lax but only for a second choosing to torture his sensitive cock with your hand two fingers at first squeezing him keeping your pumping thumb on the vein underneath it he shook,  thighs tensing and quivering his upper body tense a flush of deep red almost purple creeping down his body.

"BITCH! OH JESUS!Your a fucking bitch you OOOHHH NOO PLEASE! WAIT! Im gonna fuck-shit FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK! fuck you so hard you'll be bed bound for days!" You laughed

"Im counting on it! Aww baby is it sore? Goood I want it to HUUUURT!" Then fisted him with both hands pumping as fast as you could go  your pussy clenched as you drove him beyond pain to the pleasure beyond it he cried throwing his head back cumming a second then third time in what seemed under a minute you stopped then puling away.

"Oh wow that was hot look at all this baby, Is it all for me? So good but whats this my love? Your still hard that must mean you want more musn’t it?" You said scooping up his cum before rubbing it over his torso he groaned pitifully at you shaking his head still trying to catch his breath you crawled up him quickly sliding your thong to the side impaling yourself on him squealing as his hard cock stretched you burning you from the inside out he tensed and shuddered beneath you looking up with tears in his eyes.

"FUUUUUUUUCK no babe I cant! NONONONONOOOO!" You just licked your lips bouncing on him rotating your hips grinding your clit on him  then changed direction forcing him to hit that spot making your eyes roll back you placed your hands either side of his head grinding on him panting breathy moans in his ear.

"Fuck are you gonna cum again Brucie? Come on love do it for me" you moaned loud and clenched around him tight making him whimper unable to speak he just nodded

"Good, such a good boy for me now I want you to cum! To fill me like never before you can just imagine it cant you love fucking me full, so I drip with you for days oh YES! FUCK UGH BABY PLEASE AAHHH!" you tucked your head in the crook of his neck rocking desperately against him as the change in angle brushed both your g spot and cervix you moaned tensing closing your eyes as you tummy quivered and you felt the heat move lower finally reaching your pussy you grunted as you came around his cock twitching as your walls fought to milk him he opened his mouth in a silent scream cumming for the forth time jerking into you tight heat as you came undone over him. You panted laying on him catching your breath as you came down from your high, giggling rolling off of him as he chuckled lightly closing his eyes you thought that was enough for today he looked utterly exhausted you lay beside him kissing his heaving chest patting his stomach

"I love you Bruce" he leaned down kissing your head

"I love you to Sweets, can you uncuff me now think we both need to relax in the Jacuzzi with some wine now" you hummed in response moving to the bottom of the bed releasing his legs then using the quick release on the hand cuffs. With precise movements you was maneuvered far to quickly for your liking being thrown over his shoulder he growled ripping off the cock rings hissing.

"Wha? Bruce how are you?" You was interrupted with a harsh spank on your pussy whining you moved your hands trying to cover yourself as you was dumped in the sunken hot tub out on the deck, grabbed again from behind as you surfaced the shaking your hair out blindly grabbing for anything using your confusion he pulled harshly at the thong snapping it clean off throwing it on the deck. He held both arms behind you pressing you to kneel on one of the hot tub seats knees spread and bending you forward slightly having your ass hang just over the bottom of the seat ,gulping as a very pissed of Bruce towered over you from behind gripping your throat restricting your air flow holding you still leaning his chest into you.

"B-Brucie?" He dug his fingers in to your neck before growling into your ear"Shut the fuck up woman! You really thought I'd let you get away with that?" He moved shuffling his still hard cock to your sopping entrance that was still twitching tapping it on your clit, sliding up and down between your lips, your walls spasmed and quivered, he was definitely going to make you pay and you couldn't wait.

"OH GOd! plEASE FUCK MEE! please Bruce I want your cum! PLEASE fill me again I want it!"

"You think your getting this cock Up your greedy cunt after that? Oh baby no, I'm gonna fuck your ass good and proper, your going to feel me for days, your pussy might not be worthy of my cock right now but I can do this" you screeched as he started the jets realizing why he held you here as a powerful jet sent a constant stream of water up to your pussy massaging your poor clit you curled into yourself letting out a long drawn out groan pressing into him he chuckled as you cried out loud, it was incredible and painful all in one as the water massaged your swollen flesh you rocked and withered against it

"OH OH FUCK BRUCE PLEASE PLEASEPLEASE IM SORRY!" He smiled licking at your neck making sure to stand firm holding you still as you moaned and panted before he used on hand to line himself up with your tight pucker his blunt head pressing hard in warning your eyes widened tilting back mouth open in one continuous cry with out wasting time he lurched forward past the tight ring of muscle grunting as the tight ring nearly chocked his cock he rocked slowly feeding you inch after inch.

"Oh baby girl your so tight shit yes fuck! You want to be fucked full? Well baby girl there was no need for all of this You could have asked." You whimpered moaning as he drove in deeper filling you to the hilt you grunted in pain as he pressed his balls to your cheeks, as painful as it was the jets directed to your clit abusing it eased you overall experience you panted gasping and whining as he fucked you harshly not giving much care to you as he pulled and pushed his way up into you, and you love every second of it moaning loud as the water lapped at you you screamed trying to wriggle away from him as your body trembled your walls clenched so tight they almost cramped in on themselves as you was left empty as you came looking up at him tears rolling down your face as he carried on fucking into your sore ass, not letting you escape the jet below you moving down to spit into your open mouth. The filthy gesture made you clench again around nothing in the middle of your orgasm you whined frustrated and over sensitive panting harshly as he pulled out of you tipping you further forward bending you completely over the side you stared into the clear ocean below as he moved forward plowing into your swollen abused pussy

"AH SHIT BRUCE PLEASE I CANT" he growled at you

"You can and you fucking WILL! UGH! SHIT!  yesyesyes take it babe ah ah ah!TAKE IT BABE COME ON YOU WANTED THIS NOW YOU'VE GOT IT" you shivered clenching your hands and curling your toes as he battered your cervix pressing down as he went to stroke your sensitive soft spot, still trembling you shouted out as your clit throbbed an your pussy hummed to life as he took you above and beyond anything you’d felt with him before, one hand was gripping your ass as he thrusted forward with no mercy legs shaking as the water jet used to torment you now pulsed over his balls as he pounded into you. You wailed as he moved his hand to your clit pinching and tugging on it forcing you to orgasm again this time his hips stuttered and with one last pound forward he lifted your knees off of the seat completely forcing you to straighten your legs holding his hands on the edge of the deck either side of you holding trapping you pushing stretching your cervix forcing the tip of his cock inside before he came you screeched loud as he did feeling his hot cum spurt into your fluttering womb he held you still as you panted in shock of what just happened still feeling him twitching inside of you.

"Thats it THATS IT!! FUCK FUCK GOOD GIRL! AH AH yesyesyes shit shit! You feel that? UGH! Thats what you get! My.Fat.Cock deep inside of you, marking you as mine! Because that what you are my little slut! Mine to fuck and fill as I see fit, you wanted to be full now you are and if you let so much as one drop escape I will drag you to the bed and start all over again and again until you learn to keep my cum inside of you where it belongs!" He ground himself against your stinging clit laughing as you whined

"Bruuuuce I'm sore" he kissed your back

"Good I wanted it to hurt" he threw your own words back at you nipping your ear load before pulling out you hissed when he twisted to sit in the water with you on his lap cradling you to his chest kissing you.

"I love you babe , that was the best sex we have had in a long time isn't it?" You nodded cupping his jaw kissing it.

"Yeah... sorry if I was to much I kind of got into it... more than I thought I would actually" its true you was surprised at how much it had turned you on to have him to the point of tears. He smiled rubbing your back his other hand moving to change the jets to a low hum massaging your tired muscles.

“Nonsense you were perfect, it was incredible more than i could have ever hoped for, but where did you get the stuff? And where the fuck did you learn about all this femdom stuff?" You blushed twiddling his light dusting of chest hair smileing coyly at him.

"Well Alfred slipped me a note with a web address on it and that was all she wrote." You kissed him as his face dropped

"WHAT? Alfred as in Alfred Alfred? The man who raised me Alfred? Our Alfred?" You giggled nodding he sighed

"Holy shit" you sat up tugging your new harness off wincing as you saw the red marks it left where your large breasts were pressing on it he looked down hissing on your behalf running a finger across it.

"And I watched a shit load of femdom porn when you was out patrolling, I planned this for over a week ... nearly two I just wanted us to go back to the way we used to have sex, wanted to prove to you that I'm fine now, you don't have to worry about hurting me, I promise I will stop you if its too much the only way I could think of was to top you, so you knew what it was like you know?" He nodded as you leaned against him resting your head on his chest.

"I definitely understand, I'm sorry I just got so caught up in wanting to make sure you was completely healed, I was considering asking superman to come and double check that your ribs were fine, that's when Alfred pulled me aside telling me I was being stupid and suggested this trip." You scoffed then froze "Wait he suggested this trip? He told me it was you? And he-THAT LITTLE SHIT! Bruce he has had us both over!" You growled then pouted

"Come again?" You snorted at him

"Not yet love still tender" he bellowed a laugh at that

"Any way what I mean is he suggested the trip gave me the website link and arranged for the stuff to be hear for our arrival.... he set us up, and to be honest I’m greatful but damn your butlers pretty cunning... I suppose its true the butler really did do it." Bruce belly laughed

"Hey I've got something for you" he said before standing taking you with him you giggled as he carried you to the bed room placing you on the bed softly leaving with a kiss kneeling routing around in his case pulling out his gift.

"Here I made this for you, I know I shouldn't worry but I do" you took the box tentatively opening it seeing a beautiful silver chainmail bracelet with small plate and strategically placed onyx. You gasped slowly pulling it out.

"Bruce? What I don’t know what to say its beautiful" he sat beside you placing it on your wrist smiling as it fit perfect, not that he doubted the fit he may have measured your wrist when you was sleeping.

"Its a heart monitor and sends the data to my phone computer and even the bat computer, so I wont worry as much, the hospital said to monitor it but going to the hospital for and ecg every three months wasn't good enough for me so I made this, I want you to wear it as much as possible, its water proof so you can swim and shower with it.Happy six month anniversary" You leant forward kissing him deeply and pulled away admiring your new bracelet.

"Thank you I feel bad I didn't get you anything" he bellowed a laugh

"Babe you gave me the best orgasm of my life and I got to fuck your ass that's plenty trust me, tho if your really that upset I wouldn't say no if you bent over again for me" you squeaked blushing slapping his chest

"Oh? Whats all this then? How can you go from being a hot sexy mistress to a innocent little baby doll in what ten minutes?"you pouted pushing on him whining embarrassed. Then you heard a small beep below the bed you froze. You had forgotten about that. Bruce looked at you curiously then went under the bed sighing as he came up holding the specially designed prostate massager you chuckled nervously as he cock an eyebrow at you.

"Were you gonna try and stick this up my ass?" You shrugged

"Hehe well I err funny thing-sort of? maybe.....The guys on the videos liked it..... So I kind of you know thought I'd try it." You explained rubbing the back of your neck as he just stared.

"Haha no. Absolutly not, you are not sticking anything up my ass babe." He said placeing it beside the bed. You pouted muttering under your breath

"Like you'll have a choice when I do." He snapped his gaze at you.

"What was that? You want it up yours? well why didn't you say babe" your eyes bugged out as he stepped towards you grinning mischievously, you screamed giggling getting off the bed running out into the deck as he chased you diving at you plunging you both into the pool. You giggled as he held you against him in the water holding your ass as you wrapped your legs around him kissing one another.

"I love you so much you know I'd do anything for you right?" he asked staring straight into your eyes you nodded

"I love you to Bruce honestly couldn't imagine ever being with out you,I truly believe your my soulmate" he smiled pressing his forehead to yours closing your eyes you stayed there with him just enjoying being held. Then Bruce had to ruin the sweet moment.

"Soo hammock sex yes or no?" You deadpanned pulling away

"Let me guess its on your list?" He shook his head

"Nope not that list... I have a different list for holidays" you groaned shaking your head at him swimming to the edge on the pool watching the colorful fish swim just beyond the glass.

"Tomorrow? Lets just relax for today" he swam up beside you crossing his arms on the rim of the glass.

"Fine by me" you both stayed there enjoying the peaceful surroundings. You was content thing were definitely back to normal. you snuck another kiss pulling yourself up to the glass beside him as he held you by the waist leaning on him looking at your new bracelet twinkly in the sun.

[anjuschiffer]

Even in Hell, There’s a Place Called Home

A bit out of my usual writing and different from my usual formats, but there’s always a reason behind the madness. 

------

This an overdue prompt I wanted to write for @chocolate1721 so after two whole months, here it is! Of course, I kinda strayed from the original concept... Hope you enjoy it!

------

Concept/Context: The Batfam are demons. During a failed summoning, Damian adopts the sacrifice (Mari). He takes her home. Ensue the chaos

------

Warning: graphic scenes, gore, blood, mention of animal sacrifices, human sacrifices, character death

------

Tag: @theatreandcomicfreak @damianette-is-life

------

AO3

------

Marinette tried to keep herself calm as chants were spoken all around her, every now and then hearing the soft jingle of bells that haunted her every thought.

She stared at the pitch black ceiling as her back was pressed against the cold stone table, the blinds at her wrists and ankles cutting into her flesh. 

She had tried to fight back, but the cold shackles’ clinking laughed at her efforts, causing her to stop struggling.

So dressed with nothing but scraps of fabric to cover her chest and lower region, Marinette could only wait until she was sacrificed to whatever it was her mother and her cult were attempting to summon this time. 

They had found a new summoning book in the depths of the abandoned church, the Cult believing that they would give it a try. So after carefully planning the ritual for months and gathering the herbs and animals they could steal, and kidnap a child to sacrifice, the ritual went underway.

It was just her luck that she was the child they chose for this occasion.

It was the greatest honor to be chosen, her mother had told her…

Should she even call Sabine her mother?

What kind of mother offers their own child to be a candidate to be sacrificed?

What kind of mother encourages their child to even think about wanting to sacrifice themselves for a ritual they don’t even care about?!

Marinette let out a shuddering breath as she tried to recollect her thoughts, to compose herself as she tried to accept her unwanted fate.

However, the fact that they were in the middle of the animal blood ritual wasn’t helping. 

Marinette watched as bowls of blood were set beside her, bloody organs adorning the outer edges of the table she was strapped to. The stench of iron hit her nose, wrinkling in disgust. 

Marinette didn’t know what organ belonged to what animal, but she honestly couldn’t care. Those poor animals didn’t deserve to be killed for such foolish reasons!

More chanting filled her ears as her mo-Sabine stood beside Marinette and drew a symbol onto her forehead, forearms and stomach. 

She felt the swirls that trailed down her arms and body, knowing some dots were added along the way. 

Marinette felt as the temperature in the room began to increase, feeling beads of sweat trickled down her head. 

She felt as her entire being went cold as she felt something drag across her abdomen, screaming as they dug deeper into her skin. The grinding of the shackles rang in her head as she tugged and pulled, writhing in pain. 

Marinette could hear her screams echo within the abandoned church’s walls, a red light coming into view, an odd comfort coming from it.

She listened as her breaths started to grow longer and less short, containing more air as she bared the pain aching from her stomach.

The chants were soon spoken more quickly and with vigor, Marinette only then noticing a dagger that was dangerously close to her chest, feeling her urge to fight to rise once more.

That’s when he came into view.

Something rose to her vision, something that appeared to be human, yet it also wasn’t one. It looked at her with sad emerald eyes as everyone in the cult stopped what they were doing as the being approached her mother.

While he approached her, Marinette also heard another voice. It softly whispered to her, it’s smooth and hypnotic melody calmed her, feeling her eyelids gradually becoming heavier with each passing second. 

She soon found herself drifting off, the screams and shrieks of the cult lulling her to sleep. 

———

Damian didn’t want to go. 

“You have to go.” Bruce said, flipping a page from the book he was reading, ignoring the yells coming from the other room of the manor. 

“Why should I grace them with my presence?” Damian asked, motioning to the portal he had created. “They’re literally using animal sacrifices to summon me Father. Animal. Sacrifices.”

Bruce huffed, fully knowing what was stopping Damian from going to where he was being summoned. 

Despite being a demon, he was against animal cruelty, so much that he collected all the spellbooks he could get his hands on and changed the items needed to summon him. 

Damian had changed his animal sacrifices to using herbs and other organic lifes to summon him, placing these new changes back to where he found them, only for those stupid mortals to ignore them and make their own versions of his summoning spell or the old one they learned from their mentors.

Ignoring the set of instructions was the greatest taboo among cultists, something even demons learned about. All those years of cultist training wasted. Changing the script meant an incomplete summoning, a defective portal for any demon to use. If a demon tried to traverse through them, they could remain stuck in the warp and stop existing. However, if they did manage to get by, the summoning would be void since the cultists were not using the revamped version to summon the demon. In other words, the cultists were at the mercy of the demon they had chosen to summon. 

“You know how mortals are, believing that they’re the best at something despite knowing little to nothing about said thing.” Bruce reminded, turning another page, hearing Damian huff in annoyance. “Why not make an example of them?”

With that simple phrase, Damian appeared before the mortals that dared to think they knew what it took to summon a demon like himself. Earraping chants filled his head, Damian wishing they would stop their ununified screeching.

Traversing through his own portal, Damian appeared before the stupid mortals, feeling his blood boil upon seeing the animal corpses scattered around the room, heads with eyes wide open, stomachs ripped open as organs spilled from them. Carcasses of goats and cows pried open and hung as their blood dripped to the containers below them, the blood dripping out of it and pooling onto the floor.

Damian let out a low growl, scanning the room as the chant came to a trailing halt. His eyes finally laid on the old altar, decorated in animal organs, the blood being absorbed by the stone table and dripping onto the floor, a red river flowing down the crossing. But that wasn’t what grabbed his attention.

It was the girl that laid at the table, her hands and ankles bound to the disgusting moldy furniture, looking at him with hazy eyes.

How old was she? Why was she so thin and frail? Why isn’t she- 

Damian’s breath came to an abrupt halt. 

There, stretched across her abdomen was a vile gash, running diagonally across her body. Blood oozed from her deep gash, the skin around it jagged and already festering, meaning that if he didn’t start healing her now, her infection would grow even worse.

She could die a pointless life.

“Oh Great Spawn of-”

“Silence.” Damian cuts off, wanting to let out a grin when the short stature woman promptly shut up, her hands trembling as he made his way towards her. “Let me tell you something.”

Damian loomed over the woman, a grin unraveling itself as her eyes widened in terror as flames erupted all around the old building and on the people present, screams singing through the smoky air.

“Did you really think a demon would let themselves be controlled by a mortal? Nonetheless by one who disregarded the new changes? How naive.” With a snap of his fingers, the woman went ablaze, Damian ignoring her cries. He walked up to the girl, freed her and scooped her up into his arms. With a swish of his tail, he reopened his portal.

Just as he stepped into the portal, a hand tried to grab him. He quickly turned around and kicked the small woman away, barely hearing her final words as he watched her breathe her last breath.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry… Marinette.”

------

Bruce didn’t know what to say. 

“I’m keeping her.” Damian said sternly, leaving no room for debate. “She’s under my care, whether you like it or not.”

It didn’t take long for Damian to come back from wherever it was he had gone. But seeing him come back with an injured child in his arms -who’s time was slowly coming to an end- was not something Bruce would ever think of seeing one day.

The scent of her blood quickly drew attention, Tim appearing in the room seconds after Damian’s arrival while Jason walked into the common room minutes later.

“She’s a mortal.” Tim stated, walking up to the shallow breathing girl, his claws itching to analyze her. It wasn’t everyday that a mortal came to the Underworld. “She’s not going to last here in that condition.” Tim watched as the girl whimpered and stirred in Damian’s arms, Tim knowing she would die in a few moments if Damian didn’t act fast.

“Might as well grant her a single wish before we-” Jason started, his tails low and swaying eagerly near the floor.

“Don’t you dare lay a finger on her, Todd.” Damian growled, his tail quickly wrapping around his katana.

Why did Jason have to drop by today? 

“What if I don’t give a shit about your warning?” Jason said with a shit-eating grin, casually pulling out his guns from their holsters. 

Damian let out an even deeper growl, his wings flaring in warning. Jason grinned as he let his own wings flare in response, Damian hating that they easily rivaled his own.

While bare boned and thin, the remains of Jason’s wings were twice the size of Damian’s, a reminder from Jason that he didn’t care about whether Damian was Bruce’s son or not. Jason never saw him as a threat. He would gladly challenge him anytime.

“Boys.” Bruce spoke, rising from his chair, his book long forgotten. “Enough.”

“Let the Spawn be.” Tim proposed, watching lazily as the two continued their stand off. “If he fails to fix that girl, then you can duel him for the girl’s soul.”

“Hmm...fair enough.” Jason said, releasing his guns from his grasp, only for his two tails to catch them. “I’ll be awaiting your failure, Demon Spawn.”

With that, Jason walked away, allowing Damian to lower his wings, making them settle against his back.

“You only have a few more minutes before she-”

“I don’t need you to remind me, Drake.” Damian huffed, taking Marinette to his private quarters, Goliath purring upon seeing him. “Not now Goliath.” He softly said, petting the creature with his tail, placing Marinette onto his bed.

He frowned upon seeing the festered skin, the skin clumping in attempts to heal itself.

“Hope you make it through.”

------

Cold. 

No…

Warm…

Dark… 

It was very dark.

Marinette let out a shuddering breath as she attempted to breath, feeling something warm against her skin as her body trembled in agony as she tried to exhale.

Was she saved?

Who would save her?

No… she had to be dead.

Death sounded nicer than being alive.

“Seems like you’re awake.” A soothing voice said, Marinette quickly recognizing it. 

It was the being from the ceremony. Where was he?

Marinette attempted to speak, but only air came out of her.

“Here, drink this.”

Marinette felt as her head was lifted, a cup of some sort, brought to her lips. But as soon as the iron hit her nose, she tightened her lips into a thin line. 

“You need to drink this if you want to get better.” 

When Damian saw that the frail girl continued to struggle, he simply pried her mouth open with a spell and forced her to drink the blood, watching as the girl sputtered to breath, going into a coughing fit. 

Now it was up to her if she wanted to live or not. He already did his part. 

“Why would you- oh.” Marinette surprised herself with her slight outburst.

She would speak without struggling, but she still couldn’t see. Bringing her hands to her face, she could feel the blindfold over her eyes. That would explain why everything was dark.

“Let me help you.”

Marinette flinched harshly as light broke through her dark view, having to blink rapidly to adjust to her surroundings. 

Velvet, creams and shades of black adorned the room. Simple, yet an elegant choice of colors. 

“What happened to the-“

“They’re dead.” Damian said, Marinette feeling the bed sink at the edge to where her feet were. “It’s the price they had to pay.”

He watched as Marinette frowned, attempting to sit up, wincing as she did so. 

How did she forget about her scar? 

He watched as Marinette traced her fingers over where the gash was once, now replaced by a lighter patch of skin. The scar had a golden lining, Damian watching her confused expression as she tried to piece together the different textures of her body. 

“Will this stay like this?” Marinette asked, finally deciding to look at the being that had cared for her.

“It will.” The being responded, Marinette humming in return. “Is there a problem with it?”

“Won’t-Won’t others find it odd that my wound healed this way?”

“No one else will see it, and if they do,” Damian looked at her with narrow eyes. “They’ll know not to approach you without caution.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Golden lining around wounds and golden scars mark a person under Wayne's care or a Wayne themselves. Every demon in the Underworld knows best to avoid us and since you are under my care, they would know to not harm a single hair on you.”

“Wayne? Demons? Underworld?”

“I suppose it’s time for me to introduce myself to you.” The being said, Marinette watching as they walked up to her side, noticing their tail hanging above the ground and the wings that peered from behind them, “I’m Damian of the Wayne Manor, Damian Wayne for short.”

“Damian.” Marinette repeated, watching as his eyes softened. “Are… are you a de-”

“A demon? Yes. I’m the one that your cult tried to summon.”

“I wasn’t part of that cult.” Marinette corrected, turning her head away from Damian. “I was just the human sacrifice they decided to use that time.” Marinette dug her nails into her arms as she recalled her mother’s final words to her. 

Damian wondered if he should tell her about what her mother told him before she was burned alive.

Should he tell her that her mother apologized for sacrificing her own daughter?

That she realized that what she did was the biggest regret of her life?

Should he tell her that her mother cried as she watched her daughter be taken away from her?

That she tried to grab a hold of him while he stepped into the portal, in a desperate attempt to die alongside her daughter?

He should probably keep that to himself.

“I see.” Damian said, walking towards the doorway. “By the way, how old are you?”

“11.” Marinette watched as Damian took that information, a hum escaping him.

I see. I will be back later to check on you.”

“Thank you, Damian.” He heard Marinette say. 

“There’s no need to thank me.” Damian turned around, Marinette seeing a small smile on his lips. “I already told you, you’re under my protection. I will always be by your side.”

After all, she still had a whole life span ahead of her. 11 was no age to go ahead and die.

-------

Damian did come back later that day, fussing over her when he learned that she had tried to get up and managed to before she felt dizzy and had to lie back down.

Marinette soon regretted that, Damian now staying in the room with her, watching her every movement. He would also help to bathe her with a cloth and water and gave her clothing to wear.

The next few days were spent in comfort, Marinette and Damian getting to know one another and Marinette learning about the other residents of the Wayne Manor.

Damian learned that Marinette was a village girl, running a bakery alongside her parents until her father died during the Grand Plague. Falling into despair, Marinette’s mother seeked comfort in the cultists.

He also learned of her love for vegetation and botany. (He managed to convince his father to start a greenhouse in one of the manor’s rooms, quickly showing Marinette once it was done.)

Marinette learned to never speak fondly of Jason, as it got Damian into a bad mood and usually resulted in Damian chasing Jason around the manor for even looking at his ward.

“Todd, one day I will get my hands on you and stick a-”

“Woah there! Not in front of the child!” Jason would scandalize, covering Marinette’s ears. She would then be dragged away and carried by Jason, Damian hot on his heels.

Tim… Tim was just there, sometimes studying her from afar whenever she would join Damian into the manor library. If it wasn’t that, it was Tim teaching her the history of the Underworld, which then trailed to Tim and Damian debating on the topic of which Wayne actually caused the fall of a place called Byzantine. (It was Bruce. He didn’t mean for it to happen.)

Marinette didn’t meet Richard until a month later, accidentally running into him as she left her study that was next to the newly implemented greenhouse. 

“Holy shit.” Where the first words that came out the man’s mouth, Marinette blushing as he soon cupped her face in his hands. “Tim wasn’t kidding when he said it was genetic.”

-------

Marinette hummed as she tended to her roses, trimming off some black ones to replace the dying ones inside the manor. 

It’s been years since Marinette had left the mortal realm, 20 years to be exact, and yet… she remained 11. Or rather, looked 11 despite being 15 years of age. 

When she had asked Damian why she wasn’t aging, he replied that demon blood had different side effects from bloodline to bloodline. It also depended on the soul of the individual who drank it.

The Wayne blood was always known for its quick recovery abilities, but once Marinette drank it, it morphed into having longevity abilities alongside its healing ones. And ever since other demons heard of this, they’ve countlessly tried to kidnap the mortal girl, waging war against the Waynes.

Of course, there have been a few close calls, but the Waynes were victorious in each battle.

“How are you doing?” Damian asked, Marinette showing him her arm, golden lines wrapped around her arm. Damian held in a growl upon seeing the scar, regretting not being able to get to Mari sooner than he thought in their latest attack. 

“Better I suppose.”

“I should’ve been by your side when it happened.” Damian said as he inspected her arm, a scowl forming as he looked at it.

“Dad, I’m fine.” Marinette stated, yanking her arm away. “You know you couldn’t have known that Joker had me where he had me.”

Marinette remembered the first time she accidentally called Damian ‘Dad’. It was a little over a year since she remained at the manor. Damian had just gotten her a hellhound as a gift. Out of gratitude, she had said ‘thank you Dad’ and from there never heard the end of it, Jason and Dick always reminding her of the incident whenever they could. It was also then that she kept calling him that. 

It just felt… right.

“I know, but still.” Damian pulled her close into a hug. “I should’ve been there to protect you.” Marinette hugged him back, knowing why he was so hung up on the guilt. 

While they were demons, it didn’t mean they were void of emotions. 

She still remembered the way he looked when he had finally reached her, his form unrecognizable if it weren’t for the fact that Grandpa Bruce was right behind him. 

Getting tired of the moment, Marinette pushed herself away from Damian. 

“By the way Dad, didn’t you promise me that I’d get to take Goliath for some fresh air?”

“I-”

“You. Promised.” Marinette enunciated, placing her hands on her hips, hiding her smirk when Damian huffed.

“Fine. But I’m coming as well.” Marinette grinned, throwing her arms in the air.

“Alright! Goliath! Did you hear that?” Upon being called, Goliath came down from where he was resting, licking Marinette, a set of giggles echoing within the garden. “We’re going for a walk!” At this, Titus came into the garden, huffing as he sat in front of Marinette. “You’re invited as well Titus.” At this, the hellhound let out a huff, but he couldn’t hide the excitement. His tail was also wagging with glee. 

“Come on then, let’s get going.” Damian instructed, already leaving the room. “Wouldn’t want to come late for dinner. Alfred said he was making something special for tonight’s dinner. Something called a quiche.”

She quickly skipped to catch up, Goliath and Titus right behind her. 

How could she have forgotten? Today marks the day she was welcomed into the manor. 

20 years since the day her father brought her and welcomed her with open arms.

20 happy years with her beloved family. 

While she did miss the mortal realm, she wouldn’t go there if she had the chance. This was her home, and she loved it dearly. 

[goulets]

Heartland

Chapter: 1/8 Pairing: Jason Todd/Dick Grayson Additional Characters: Colin Wilkes, Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake, Alfred Pennyworth Rating: T (for now) Case Fic/Kid Fic a03 link

Jason looks down at the baby, at watery brown eyes and tiny hands, fingers stretching out without knowing what they're reaching for. She yawns and makes a sucking noise, turning her head into his chest.

Damn it.

“We'll do shifts,” he says to Dick, making his tone as businesslike as possible. “I still have shit to do; I can't sit around playing house with you all day.”

Dick doesn't smile, but Jason can see that he wants to. “That sounds reasonable.”

“This is temporary. Just until we find the fuckers that want to take her out.”

“Sure it is.” Dick's all doe-eyed now, watching the baby settle down to sleep. “Welcome home, Jaybird.”

(colin)

It's a quarter past five and the first streams of daylight are curling over the horizon when Colin finally makes it back to the orphanage. He's down to his normal size, brass knuckles heavy in his pockets and slowing his already exhausted steps. It'll be at least three hours before the younger kids wake up; time enough to get one REM cycle in before he's got all those mouths to feed. Damian taught him about monitoring his REM cycles, how it's sometimes better to get three hours than four, how to stay sharp even when he's running on no sleep at all.

Even better, Dick once told him he's welcome at the manor anytime he needs to rest undisturbed, or a hot meal, or a 'flying lesson', whatever that means. Damian had thrown a batarang at his head when he'd suggested it, so Colin assumes it's some kind of inside joke. Regardless, he hasn't been back at the manor to take Dick up on his offer. Batman's back – the real Batman – and Colin would be the worst kind of liar if he said he wasn't a little bit terrified to face him, considering the circumstances of their first meeting.

A motion in the alley next to the orphanage catches his eye, and he stills. Vagrants don't usually start coming around until the soup kitchen opens, and all the thugs he's used to dealing with tend to wait until the kids are up to start messing with them. That's why Colin likes the walk back from patrol, despite his tiredness, despite the chill that rolls off the ever-present fog. The city's glow is muted at this hour, its inhabitants either just starting to stir or just turning in. He's alone with the smog and the molten aura of the streetlights, and there's a quiet about it all that makes even the bloodstains on his knuckles feel pure, purposeful.

That said, he really does need to invest in some gloves.

The figure in the alley is still moving, clumsy and hurried, and all at once Colin realizes what it is they're fumbling with. There's a sort of house-shaped capsule outside St. Aden's, a narrow chute with a small door that doesn't have a lock, and a weathered sign on the front that depicts the outline of an infant. It's a Safe Surrender site, a place where people can legally abandon their newborns, and someone is using it for the first time since Colin's been at the orphanage.

He creeps closer, keeping to the shadows.

The figure spends about five more seconds fumbling with something on the ground, then wrenches open the door to the capsule and deposits something inside. Colin's stomach twists; the blue light above the capsule illuminates, and he can hear a faint alarm going off in the nuns' office. He wonders if they'll even know what it's for. The figure startles at the light, hastily grabs what looks like an empty bag off the ground, and bolts.

Colin wants to follow, but finds himself unable to walk past the capsule without checking it, and once he sees what's inside, he knows there's no chance of him giving chase. The baby is sleeping, definitely not a newborn, but not more than a few months old. Its tiny body is wrapped in a dirty blanket, wisps of black hair sticking out from an unprotected head. Colin supposes he wouldn't have needed to pursue whoever dropped it off; for all intents and purposes, they might think they're doing the right thing. St. Aden's won't turn the baby away, and it's a better option than leaving it in a gutter or a dumpster, which, in Gotham, is not a thing unheard of.

The baby stirs as a stiff breeze swirls through the alley, making Colin shiver. The nuns will be dressed and out in five minutes, give or take. They'll at least put a hat on the baby, Colin thinks. He doesn't know much about babies, but he knows they need hats. The orphanage has baby hats, and diapers, and blankets, albeit thin ones, most with holes. They might even have a spare teddy bear for when the baby has nightmares. No one comforts you when you have nightmares at St. Aden's. The nuns aren't big on hugs, even the babies they hold as little as possible.

Colin may not know a lot about babies, but he knows what happens when you don't hold them. The kids at the orphanage who've been there since infancy are a testament to that. Colin shivers again, thinking of vacant eyes and hunched shoulders. Pale skin and raw voices. Underdeveloped, broken bodies, floating in the river.

The light in the nuns' office comes on. Less than a minute now. Before he can fully process what he's doing or why he's doing it, Colin scoops the baby out of the capsule and cradles it carefully in his arms, walking briskly out of the alley the way that he came. The fog feels damper; it clings to him like it means to shield him from view. As an afterthought, Colin takes off his own hat and uses it to cover the baby's head.

***

“What is so urgent,” Damian snarls, swinging into the garage and making Colin jump and almost topple over, “that it couldn't wait at six in the fucking morning?”

Moving past his initial alarm, Colin feels relief wash over him at seeing his friend. Damian is decked out in his Robin costume and, all things considered, no grumpier than usual. “I'm so glad you're here,” he says in a rush. “I think – I think I screwed up, and I don't know what to do. Um.”

He decides not to draw it out, and instead steps aside, gesturing to the side compartment of his motorcycle. The baby is still sound asleep; he's wrapped his jacket around it as well. He won't die from the cold, but he worries that the baby might.

“What the – ” Damian blinks at the sleeping infant, then points to Colin without looking away. “Explain.”

Colin does. “And I thought if I called you, you might know what to...because you and Batman have handled this kind of stuff, right? You know who to, um.” He pauses, and realizes that he doesn't actually know why his first instinct was to call Damian, aside from the fact that he really has no one else to call. He wraps his arms around himself and lets out a short breath. “What do we do?”

“There's no 'we',” Damian says automatically, just like Colin knew he would. “You can't take care of a baby. You're ten. You have to put it back.”

Colin doesn't move. He knows Damian is probably right. “I just,” he starts to say, searching for the words. He's so tired he can barely think straight. “I guess I wanted it to have a chance. You know? Kids at the orphanage...kids like me, we don't get a lot of choices. Everyone ends up being a bad guy or a victim.” He swallows. “We don't need any more of either in this town.”

Damian scowls and rubs at his mask absently. “You're not either one of those things.”

Colin look at his fist and squeezes it, concentrating. Within a minute, his forearm is as big around as his leg. “No, I'm not,” he says. Damian has gone very still. Colin closes his eyes and feels his way back to his normal size, flexing his hand once it's shrunk back down. “Not anymore.”

“I – ” Damian cuts himself off, clenching his jaw. “Fine. We'll take it back to the manor. We have to go now, before they realize I'm gone.”

Colin bites back a grin and scoops the baby up, cradling its head carefully against his chest. The baby's face isn't cold anymore, which gives him an unexpected surge of elation, and he practically skips to Damian's side, earning a severely reproachful look from his friend.

“How did you get here?”

“I swiped Father's keys,” Damian says dryly, holding them out and pressing a button. Brilliant headlights illuminate the alley outside the garage, and Colin's jaw drops as a sleek, two-door Batmobile pulls up in front of them.

“How did – ”

“Remote autopilot. It drives itself.”

“Whoa.”

Damian rolls his eyes and presses another button, making the roof retract halfway. He swings in over the door and says, “Don't scratch the interior.”

Colin slides in beside him, awestruck. He's in the freaking Batmobile. If everything under the sun goes wrong with this sort-of kidnapping, even if he winds up in jail, it'll be so worth it.

***

(jason)

Jason's not having a particularly good day.

Scratch that, it's nine in the morning, and Jason's already not having a particularly good day.

“Where did you say you heard this?” Bruce asks, frowning at his computer screen. Translation: which parts of this are you lying about, Jason?

“Oh, you know,” Jason says, not caring to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. “Me and some of my League buddies were doing tapas over at Ocho, and you know how they get when the wine starts pouring.” Bruce glares at him, and he glares right back. “All I know is Shiva's overseas for the foreseeable future. Just thought I'd share, since I heard you were looking. But whatever you want her for, I'm telling you, she probably didn't do it. This time.”

Bruce stares at him, cold and still as a statue. Jason wants to hit himself. Idiot move, coming here. Not like the Great Bat Detective needs his legwork anyhow.

He squares his shoulders and says, “Hey, take it or leave it. Which, speaking of, I'm gonna go ahead and leave now.”

Bruce's silence follows him out, and Jason practices the tried-and-true strategy of stirring up old resentments to mask the hurt. Not like he'd expected old Batsy to fall all over himself with excitement on account of a visit from his fallen son, but there's a cold reception, and there's the patented Bruce Wayne Freeze-Out. If Jason had imagined their shared history of returning from the dead would bring them closer together, he'd been sorely mistaken.

“Will you be joining us for breakfast, Master Jason?” Alfred asks, wiping his hands on a dish towel as Jason attempts to hustle past the kitchen. Habit has him pausing, because you just don't blow off Alfred, and that small hesitation is all it takes for the smells wafting out of the kitchen to hit him head-on. And oh, do they hit him. Pancakes, eggs, bacon – turkey bacon, Jason's favorite, of course Alfred remembers that stupid little detail. He probably also remembers that Jason is pathologically incapable of refusing food. Bastard.

“I'm not really – ” he starts to say hungry, but his stomach picks that exact moment to let loose a traitorous growl that echoes down the hallway and probably wakes up any still-asleep inhabitants of the manor.

Alfred, to his everlasting credit, doesn't even flinch. Jason heaves a sigh. “Yeah, all right. Just a bite, I guess.”

“I'll set a place for you.” Like the old man hasn't already.

Jason tugs off his gloves and makes his way to the sink to wash up. No telling what's living under his nails these days, but it's probably better not to ingest it.

“This is really good, Alfie,” he says through a thick bite of pancake. “Damn. I hope the new kid knows how good he's got it.”

“I'm afraid I haven't met anyone quite as enthusiastic about my cooking as you, Master Jason. Except, on occasion – Master Richard!”

“Hey, Alfie! Man it smells good, what's the occasion?” A shirtless, pajama-pants clad Dick Grayson bounds into the kitchen, more golden retriever than man, and stops on one foot with his face six inches above the bacon pan, breathing in. “Hey, is that turkey bacon?” He whirls around. “Jason!”

“Um.” Jason goes very stiff in his seat, teeth locked together around a forkful of eggs. Chew, swallow. He hadn't know Dick was here; hadn't figured any of the bat clan would even be awake at this charming daylight hour, except Bruce, who Jason's convinced deprogrammed the biological need to sleep out of his system years ago. “Hey.”

Dick looks pleased to see him, but confused. He's still on one foot. Jason represses the childish urge to throw something at him; knock him over like a big stupid bowling pin. “What are you doing here?”

“Just came by to drop off some intel,” he shrugs, fidgeting with his napkin. “You know how it is. Spend enough time cracking skulls, more than brain tissue leaks out.”

When Dick doesn't react beyond placing both feet on the ground and pursing his lips disapprovingly, Jason puts on his best shit-eating grin. Ah, ruining family meals. Just like old times.

“Thanks for the grub, Alfie,” he calls, swinging his legs over the side of his chair. “Think I've overstayed my welcome now, so I'm just be on my way.” He deliberates for a moment before snatching the last piece of turkey bacon off his plate, then walks briskly out of the kitchen and towards the front door.

“Jason – wait up a second.” Dick's voice behind him, close behind him, practically a whisper. Jason turns and takes a deliberate step backward, putting space between them. He's fairly sure he can take Dick hand-to-hand, but he wants to be as close to the exit as possible when he does.

“What?” he demands, more roughly than he needs to. He shifts his hip to feel the handle of his knife pressing into it; the exact shape he'll mold his palm to if he needs to draw it.

Dick crosses his arms and stares him down steadily. It's a mistake to make eye contact with him, because Dick's stare isn't like Bruce's, shrewd and penetrating, it's not a gaze that takes any effort to hold. Quite the contrary – Jason's always had trouble breaking eye contact with Dick. Bruce's stare goes through him, turns him inside out, but Dick's grips him, surrounds him, takes the full measure of him without pulling everything ugly to the surface. It's unnerving. He'd rather face Bruce any day.

“You don't have to leave just because I walked into the room.”

He shouldn't be able to project so much earnestness in nothing but faded Superman sleep pants, Jason thinks. It defies human nature.

“It was more of a sashay,” he smirks, still not blinking. “And it's not on your account, don't worry. I just have shit to do.”

“You should come by more often,” Dick presses.

It's all Jason can do not to throw his head back and laugh. “Right,” he says, narrowing his eyes. “That's gonna happen over Bruce's dead body.”

There's a flash of pain on Dick's face, and Jason thinks his phrasing was probably ill-advised. Too soon and all. Oh well.

“That's not true,” Dick shakes his head, shaggy hair falling in front of his eyes. Jason feels a bizarre and fleeting urge to brush it away, makes it an immediate priority to repress desires like that as far down as they can possibly go. “Look, I know it hasn't always been easy – ”

Jason scoffs. “Oh, sure.”

“ – but if you'd just give him some time, I know he wants you back, Jason. You're family. And I think you know it too, or you wouldn't even be here.”

Defiant rage stirs in Jason's stomach, but this isn't the time or the place for that kind of reaction. He settles instead on indifference. “That's an old tune, Dickie. Might be time to learn some new ones.”

Dick's expression softens. Damnit. This is why he can't stand around talking to Dick, making fucking chitchat and this perverse, endless eye contact. They observe each other in circles, it's nearly impossible to hide, and Dick doesn't hide anything, which means Jason's at an automatic disadvantage. Every goddamn time.

It's pointless to bare his teeth in a grin and offer a sardonic wave, but Jason does it anyways. “It's been real, Boy Wonder. I'll catch you la – ”

“Shh.” Dick puts up a finger, frowning. He looks up the stairs. “Do you hear that?”

If this is another strategy to try and stall him, Jason's gonna start throwing punches. “Hear what?” he demands. He's about to tell Dick to go fuck himself – which, he probably can, fucking acrobat – no, bad visual, stop thinking about Dick naked, Jesus fucking Christ – when he hears it too.

It sounds like – “Is that a baby?” He looks sideways at Dick. “Bruce have a second love child already?”

Dick says, “I'll see you later, Jason,” and starts climbing the stairs.

Well, obviously Jason can't leave now.

They follow the cries down one of the many upstairs hallways, which, from the portraits and weaponry lining the walls, Jason figures must lead to Damian's room. Dick pauses outside a closed door, pressing his ear to it, and, curiosity getting the better of him, Jason follows suit.

“You have to get it to shut up! The whole mansion's probably heard it by now!”

“I'm trying!” an unfamiliar voice hisses, and there's the sound of a hiccup from a third unfamiliar voice. Presumably something babylike. “Do you think it's hungry?”

“How the hell should I know? This was your moronic idea, Colin, don't you know anything about babies?”

“Maybe we should google it.”

“I'm going to kill you. Actually, when Father finds out we kidnapped a fucking baby, he'll kill us both. I can't believe I let you talk me into this mess.”

The crying starts again. Dick looks at Jason and mouths, one, two, three, before pushing the door open and revealing their presence.

It's quite a scene. Damian's in half his costume, mask, boots, and cape discarded on the floor, and he's grinding his teeth at another boy, a redhead kid in a dirty checkered sweatshirt who looks to be around his age. The redhead kid looks horrified to see them standing there, first going furiously red, then white as a sheet. But the thing that really grabs Jason's attention is the baby – yep, a flesh-and-blood human infant – cradled awkwardly in the redhead kid's arms, screaming its tiny head off.

Dick looks between them, his eyes enormous. “Damian? Colin? What is this?”

It's a question, not an accusation. Jason has to hand it to him; Bruce would've had them sizzling on the grill the second the word 'kidnapped' reached his ears.

Colin says, “It's not what it looks like!”

Dick glances sideways at Jason. “Okay, but. I'll be honest, I'm not even sure what it looks like.”

Jason shrugs. “You kids abduct any babies lately?”

“We didn't abduct it,” Damian snarls. “Colin found it. Abandoned. It was my mistake to bring it here.”

The baby cries louder. It's a miracle Alfred hasn't come running yet.

“Someone dropped it at St. Aden's,” Colin says quickly, between bouts of screaming. “I just – I couldn't just leave it there, you don't know what it's like, growing up that way.” He clutches the baby to him fiercely, bitterness etched all over his face. “You might as well hand him over to the gangs right now, because that's where he'll end up.”

Dick looks horribly conflicted. Jason laughs out loud.

“So, what was your plan?” he asks incredulously. “Two ten year olds, teaming up to raise a baby? Which one of you's the mom?”

Dick's arm blocks Damian's sharp kick to Jason's face. “Thank you, Jason, that was helpful,” he says. “But, uh, what was the plan, exactly?”

Everyone looks to Colin, who shrinks visibly under their combined gaze. “I don't know,” he says in a small voice, nearly indecipherable beneath the baby's cries. “I hadn't really thought that far ahead. I just – I thought Batman could save him.”

It takes everything in Jason's face-saving book not to respond to that, but he barely manages to keep his mouth shut. Dick shoots him a look of gratitude, and he rolls his eyes. Obviously there are more pressing issues at hand than his lingering manpain; Jason's not that self-involved.

“Okay,” Dick says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Here's how we solve this. He – she? – we'll figure it out, whatever, is probably hungry. And wet. Did you two change its diaper?”

Damian and Colin look at each other and shrug helplessly. “Right.” Dick points one hand behind him. “I'm going to go to the kitchen; I know Alfred keeps formula in there somewhere. And we should have diapers in one of the emergency supply closets. I'll get that stuff. Jason, take the baby for a minute, would you? Colin looks like he's about to drop.”

Jason backs against the wall, saying, “Oh no, I don't – that's not a – ” but then the screaming bundle is being precariously extended towards him, and instinct has him reaching out to take it.

“Jesus,” he mutters, feeling the fragile weight of the baby in his arms. Can't be much more than ten pounds. He has handguns with more substance than this thing. “Where're you keeping those lungs, little guy?”

Silence falls over the room, and it takes Jason a minute to realize that he didn't spontaneously go deaf, the baby stopped crying. Its tiny eyes – brown, dark and wet – are blinking up at him like he's the most interesting thing in the world.

Oh, no.

This is a disaster.

He doesn't hear Dick's intake of breath so much as he feels it, which might be because he's holding his breath too, because the baby is looking at him, and damnit, this is the last fucking thing he needs in his life. “Go,” he says to Dick, inserting as much venom into his voice as possible, wrenching his eyes away from the baby's. “It's probably just going into shock or something.”

The baby farts.

“Okay, or that.”

Dick bites his lip hard, and ten different emotions of various intensities flash through Jason's gut. Then he's gone, cartwheeling down the staircase, knowing him.

Colin says, “Wow, it really likes you.”

Damian smirks. “I guess we know who the mom is.”

“Don't think because I've got a ten pound handicap I won't kick your ass, kid,” Jason snaps. It's an empty threat, and they all know it. For now anyways. Once the baby situation's dealt with, all bets are off.

Dick's back within five minutes, armed to the teeth with things more frightening to Jason than any weapon he can imagine. Diapers, wipes, blankets, bottles, even a tiny blue hat that looks handmade. Jason's heart thuds unevenly in his chest, recognizing Alfred's handiwork in the stitching; indisputable evidence that Bruce Wayne, Batman, was once a baby just like this one. It'd be hilarious, if he could push a laugh past the lump in his throat.

“Here.” Dick hands him a diaper. It has Mickey Mouse on it.

Jason shakes his head. “Nuh-uh. I didn't sign up for this shit. And I mean that in the literal sense; I did not put 'clean up baby shit' in my day planner today.” He thrusts the diaper back at Dick.

“Fine,” Dick snaps, holding his arms out expectantly. “Give me the baby. Damian, shake up this formula, will you?”

Damian snatches the bottle out of his hand and shakes it with the aggression of a paint mixer. Well, hey, at least he's dedicated.

The baby starts to fuss as it's transferred from Jason's arms to Dick's, and the lump in Jason's throat gets bigger. “Hey, hey,” Dick croons, settling the baby down on the rug and starting to unwrap its blanket. “You're okay, little guy. We got you – oh, I'm sorry,” he grins, glancing up at Jason. “Little girl, I'm guessing.”

Jason peers over his shoulder and sees that under the blanket, the baby is wearing tiny pink pajamas with little white and green flowers. Like the blanket, the pajamas are dirty. He wonders when the baby last had a bath.

Not your problem. He needs to get the hell out of here.

“Ooh, someone's got a full diaper,” Dick goes on. Jason wants to kick him in the back of the head. “Let's fix that, huh? Oh, yeah. We'll get someone on that right away.”

Jason jumps backward when Dick extends the dirty diaper to him, and Dick rolls his eyes. “It's just pee. Get over yourself, honestly.”

“Fuck you,” Jason growls. “I'm not part of this.”

Colin walks over with dogged footsteps and takes the diaper from Dick, folding it over until it's a tight little pocket that fits in the palm of his hand. He turns to Damian. “Where's the garbage?”

Damian jerks his head in the direction of the bathroom, and Dick glares at Jason as he refastens the baby's pajamas.

The baby's fussing turns into loud wails again, and Dick picks her – no, it, can't think of it as a person, damnit – up, rocking his arms gently. The baby cries, rubs its face on Dick's chest, and then turns its head and look directly at Jason.

“Aw, Jay. Looks like she's got a crush.”

“Please.” Jason rolls his eyes and tries to ignore the vise that's squeezing in his chest. He really, really needs to leave. Like, yesterday.

But then Dick starts feeding the baby, and Jason finds himself utterly rooted to the spot.

It figures that parenting is something that would come naturally to Dick. It seems like most things come naturally to him, particularly the things that terrify normal people, like leaping off tall buildings, running into the line of fire, taking on twenty armed goons with nothing but his stupid fucking escrima sticks. Dick cradles the baby with arms that've put hundreds of criminals on their asses, arms that are scarred all over, just like Jason's. He gazes down at the baby as it eats, murmuring praise, shifting slowly from foot to foot, and that damn thing won't stop looking at Jason, even while it's sucking enthusiastically at the bottle.

Footfalls behind him; a distinct step he'd know anywhere. “I took the liberty of digging up some clothes for our young guest,” Alfred says, as though nothing is out of the ordinary. “They're a bit dated, but I believe they should still be suitable.”

“Can we all get out of my room now?” Damian asks. “I'd like to change, and I'd prefer to do it without the entire household watching.”

Alfred nods. “Certainly, Master Damian. Master Richard, perhaps it would be prudent to bring this matter to Master Bruce at this time.”

“Yeah, okay,” Dick says, heavily, shooting another look at Jason. Why does he keep doing that? “Let's just get her fed and changed really quick.”

“Of course.”

As soon as they're downstairs, the baby spits out the nipple and screws up its face like it's going to start howling again. Jason doesn't know what it is, some kind of long-buried impulse, a skill set he never thought he'd had to begin with, but he's stepping forward with his arms outstretched, palms open and flat, like he could do a damn thing to keep the baby quiet.

Dick pegs him with a curious look, and Jason freezes. “You wanna hold her?”

“What? No,” Jason says, shoving his arms down to his sides. “I just – I thought you were gonna drop it. Her.”

Dick doesn't say anything, and Jason feels a flush creeping up his neck. “You know what, it seems like you guys have this all handled. I'm just gonna...go.”

He turns, and the baby starts crying again.

Jesus Christ in a goddamn handbasket, this is bad.

“If you wouldn't mind,” Dick says, carefully, “We could use the help. Until we figure out what to do.”

“He can help,” Jason protests, pointing at Colin.

“I actually, um,” Colin looks vaguely terrified, glancing guiltily between them. “I have to go, my kids – there's kids at the orphanage, I have to be there. For them.”

Jason doesn't think about the time he spent on the streets, doesn't relive those fun childhood memories for any reason, but they're a scar on his psyche, forever etched in, and he can't exactly make them go away, either. He remembers the kids from the orphanages, how little and lost they were, better cared for but more unloved than any of the other street kids. He remembers standing up for them as much as he remembers knocking them over and stealing from them. No kids are worse equipped to protect themselves. Colin looks like he weighs eighty pounds soaking wet, but Jason reasons that he wouldn't be friends with Damian if he couldn't take a hit.

Colin probably takes a lot of hits on behalf of his kids. The thought turns Jason's stomach, and he knows he can't ask him to stay.

Dick frowns and starts to say, “I'm sure – ”

“Go,” Jason says quickly, giving Colin a short nod. “It's fine, whatever. My shit can wait a few hours.”

Everyone stares at him. The baby is still crying.

“Oh, for fuck's sake. Fine, give me the damn kid.” He sets his jaw and takes the baby from Dick, expressly avoiding Dick's eyes, or any part of his face, for that matter. The baby fusses for a minute, then seems to catch sight of Jason's face again, and settles down at once.

Shit, shit, shit.

***

“You're doing this completely wrong,” Jason tells the baby as they make their way down to the Batcave. “I'm sure as hell not taking you home with me, I'll tell you that much. No offense.”

The baby coughs, and Jason finds himself holding it a little tighter. It's all very unnerving, the way he's already used to the shape of its small form in his arms, the way its head fits snugly into the soft spot of flesh between his shoulder and his breastbone. Alfred threw out the ratty blanket it was wrapped in and gave them a new one, along with a pink cotton onesie with a stiff lace collar. Purchased forty odd years ago by Martha Wayne, on the off-chance that she was having a baby girl. A little piece of trivia that Jason is going to any lengths necessary not to think about.

“It fits with the intel I got last week,” Tim is saying, “Qurac is a big job; she wouldn't be doing it alone.”

“No,” Bruce agrees, hunched over in front of his massive screen. “Perhaps the League of Assassins isn't behind this at all.”

“So either someone's setting it up to look like they...” Tim trails off, catching sight of Jason, or more accurately, the wiggling bundle in his arms. “Is that a baby?”

Jason looks down and gasps. “Holy shit, how did that get there?”

Dick rolls his eyes. Tim says, “Wait, it's not – ”

“It's not mine, Replacement. Don't give yourself a stroke deducing over there.”

Bruce turns in his chair to face them, frowning deeply. His eyes take in Dick, Jason, and the baby. “Where's Damian?”

Dick steps forward. “He went with Alfred to take Colin ho – back to St. Aden's.”

“Ah.” Bruce nods. “So that's where he went this morning.” His gaze lands on the baby. “I take it the infant came from the orphanage as well.”

“She's really sweet, Bruce.” Dick adopts a pleading voice. “Colin thought he was doing the right thing.”

“Colin can look after her when she's returned to St. Aden's,” Bruce says firmly. “The Mansion is no place for a baby.” He stands and walks over to Jason. “May I?”

It takes Jason a moment to realize that Bruce is asking his permission to hold the baby. He doesn't know what's more surprising, the fact that Bruce is asking at all, or the fact that he wants to refuse, to take the baby and run as far away as possible, to an alternate universe where parents don't abandon their kids or sell them out, where they don't let psychopaths murder them, where they'd rather burn the world down than let any harm come to another child on their watch.

He thinks that Bruce can probably see his struggle painted on his face as he waits for his answer. And he is waiting, because the question wasn't a formality, it's a real uncertainty, and Bruce is asking Jason whether or not he trusts him to take this small life and protect it, even if it's just for a few moments.

Jason's reflexive answer is a harsh and unforgiving fuck no, but that's not the end of it. There's something deeper inside him, something that's been climbing toward the surface for a while now, no matter how hard he tries to bury it, that tells another story. A lot of other stories.

Rather than sift through them, he bites his tongue and hands the baby over. He tells himself he won't look at Bruce to see his reaction, but how often do you get to see Batman with a baby?

Jason will die again a hundred times before he ever admits it, but the vision of Bruce, half-suited up, broad and unyielding and Batman, folding his arms into a cradling position for the baby, is actually pretty fucking charming. He wouldn't've guessed that Bruce had a lot of experience with small children, but he doesn't look uncomfortable. The baby whines and stirs, little hands feebly reaching up to clutch at the bat symbol on his chest, and Jason thinks he actually sees Bruce's mouth quirk in a smile.

“I'm just going to scan her handprint,” he says, addressing Jason.

Jason shrugs. “Whatever.”

The whining stops as soon as he takes the baby over to the enormous computer screen, and Jason hopes that all the lights and flashing images don't fry the baby's brain. There are shots of crime scenes, bodies with blood spilled onto the street, rotating in the corner of the screen, and Jason hopes the baby's subconscious doesn't file those images away for night terrors down the road. Although, if it's going back to the orphanage, it'll see the real thing soon enough.

There's an uplifting thought.

“Danielle Leigh Torres,” Bruce says after a moment. “Born the sixteenth of January. Parents Linda Torres – deceased, and Mitchell Howard, also deceased.”

“Wait a minute.” Tim's gone still with his hand hovering over the keyboard. “Mitch Howard – that's Big Mouth Howard's real name.”

Big Mouth Howard. Jason's heard the name – some lowlife, maybe a bookie? He doesn't know why it'd be significant to any of them, but the way Tim and Bruce are looking at each other suggests that there's something fairly major he's missing. Jason glances at Dick, and is relieved to see that he looks just as out of the loop.

“You two wanna clue us in?” Jason demands, stepping closer to the screen. “Who the fuck is Big Mouth Howard?”

Bruce continues scowling unfathomably at the screen, and Tim lets out a long exhale. “There's been a lot of activity in the East End this past week,” he says. “You guys have probably noticed.”

“Yeah, bunch of dealers got capped,” Jason confirms, still not understanding why this should matter so much to Batman. “Turf wars. Big fucking deal.”

Tim shakes his head. “Not just dealers. Cy Reynolds was Intergang, they bought out the Dragons’ territory a few months ago and have been pulling in major product from Venezuela. His whole family was taken out, all his lieutenants, all their families.” He pulls up a mug shot of a sneering, overweight man with some serious dental issues. “Big Mouth was one of them.”

“So, you're thinking professional hits.”

“Reynolds had a lot of enemies. Guy dipped his pen in way too many wells. We thought Intergang might've taken him out themselves, because he was something of a liability, but why take out the lieutenants?”

“And the families,” Dick adds, frowning. “Someone wanted to send a message.”

“Exactly. He's gotten on the wrong side of the al Ghuls more than once, and this is their style,” Tim continues, pulling up more detailed shots of the bodies. “That one's Linda Torres. She wasn't even married to Big Mouth, but they still got her.”

“League's got bigger fish to fry,” Jason says dismissively. “They wouldn't bother.”

“Yeah, well, you would know,” Tim replies, raising an eyebrow. “Anyways, we're thinking it's a move against Intergang now, not just Reynolds. I have a couple hunches, but we need to examine the bodies more closely to know for sure.”

“Bruce,” Dick says, “if they're really sending a message, they're gonna be looking for Danielle.”

Tim opens his mouth and shuts it. No one speaks, and, as if on cue, the bundle in Bruce's arms starts wailing again.

Something is squeezing Jason's lungs, making it hard for him to breathe normally. Danielle. The baby has a name, it's a goddamn person and it's – she's – been in this world for three fucking months and she's already got a price on her head. God almighty, what a piece of shit world they live in.

Jason grinds his teeth. “No way she goes back to that orphanage.”

Everyone turns to look at him. He ignores them and steps forward, extending his arms towards Bruce, who slides Danielle over to him without protest.

“Jason – ”

“Forget it, Bruce. I don't know what paragraph of your moral code stipulates that you have to throw a fucking baby to the wolves instead of, oh, I don't know, protect her, but you can shove it up your ass. I'll fucking take her if it's that goddamn important to you. And if anyone comes for her, they die.”

“ – I was going to say, I think she should stay here. For the time being.”

Jason pauses. “Oh.”

“Provided, of course, that someone will be able to look after her. Other than Alfred.”

“I'll stay,” Dick volunteers. Of course he does. Fucking boy scout. “Jason?”

Jason looks down at Danielle, at watery brown eyes and tiny hands, fingers stretching out without knowing what they're reaching for. She yawns and makes a sucking noise, turning her head into his chest.

Damn it.

“We'll do shifts,” he says to Dick, making his tone as businesslike as possible. “I still have shit to do; I can't sit around playing house with you all day.”

Dick doesn't smile, but Jason can see that he wants to. “That sounds reasonable.”

“This is temporary. Just until we find the fuckers that want to take her out.”

“Sure it is.” Dick's all doe-eyed now, watching Danielle settle down to sleep. Idiot. “Welcome home, Jaybird.”

***

[lake-arrius-caverns]

Nerevarine Rising

Chapter 13: Three’s A Crowd

hey just a PSA that since i’ve fallen behind (this chapter is ridiculously late) i’m going to take a short break from posting for a while to work on building up a buffer! (join our discord and bug me to write pls)

summary Fahjoth is hopeful that tensions between Julan and Ribyna will settle, but their animosity risks a guild assignment going pear-shaped.

content warnings violence, blood, minor character death

read under the cut or on AO3, cheers 👍

:: First :: || << Previous << || >> Next >> || :: Masterpost ::

————————————————————————

He stood quietly awaiting a response after rapping his knuckles on the door, but only a heavy silence greeted him. Frowning, Fahjoth tried again, a little more forcefully this time. This was the right room, wasn’t it? 

The third knock finally yielded a result. From within the room came a low, long groan, and Fahjoth took that as his cue to open the door a sliver and peer inside. 

“Rise and shine,” he called, trying to hold back a grin at the state his friend was in. Julan was slouched on the bed, fully clothed and burying his face in his hands. “How are you feeling?”

“Ugh… fantastic,” came Julan’s gruff response. “Why did you let me drink so much?”

“You’re the one who kept asking for more! Want me to stop you next time?” 

“Yes.” Julan paused. “Maybe. I don’t know. Sheogorath, it feels like my head’s about to explode…”

Fahjoth chuckled, pushing the door open a little more to step inside. “Are you up for training today? Or d’you need some time to, uh… recover?”

“No, no, I’ll be fine,” Julan insisted, hauling himself to his feet and staggering slightly on the spot as he fought to balance himself. “So how come you’re looking so fresh this early?”

“Early?” Fahjoth repeated. “Mate, it’s gone midday.”

“It has?” Julan squinted at Fahjoth as he rubbed his head. “Gods… alright, there’s no time to waste then. What’s the plan?”

“Well, I thought maybe we could do something a bit more practical today,” Fahjoth started. “How d’you fancy taking out a bandit leader?”

“Bandits? Sure.” 

With no sign of Cosades to be seen that morning, Fahjoth had stopped by the Fighters Guild to find something, anything to keep him busy and to keep the gold coming in. While the prospect of facing an entire gang of bandits by himself was daunting, he was a little more confident that he and Julan would be able to deal with it together. And having Ribyna tag along couldn’t hurt, although he hoped that she and Julan would be able to put their differences aside for the time being.

Julan continued to chatter as he sat back down again to pull on his boots. “D’you do this sort of thing regularly?”

“Sort of.” Fahjoth leaned against the doorframe, waiting and watching idly. “I’ve done a few jobs for the Fighters Guild to earn a bit more gold. Nothing this big before, mind.”

“The Fighters Guild? You’ve never mentioned that. Fighters… they’re alright, I guess.” Julan suddenly looked up, eyes wide. “Hey, have you ever seen a Nord hit himself in the face with his own hammer?”

“No?”

Julan sighed, a grin growing on his face. “Well, me neither, but I live in hope.” He stood up and approached the doorway, patting Fahjoth on the shoulder as he reached him. “After you.”

Fahjoth laughed as he headed out of the cornerclub, feeling an odd excitement begin to quiver somewhere in his gut. Or was that nervousness? Whatever it was, the feeling intensified as he stepped outside and came face-to-face with his twin, who was leaning against the wall and looking bored stiff as she waited for them. 

“About fucking time,” Ribyna muttered, and as Julan stepped out after him, Fahjoth heard him falter. His good mood instantly took a nosedive; he had been hopeful for a few more moments of peace at least before the hostilities began again. 

“Are you still up for coming with us to Suran, Beebs?” Fahjoth asked, in an attempt to ease the tension. 

“Why the fuck else d’you think I’d be stood here like a lemon waiting for you?” She jerked her head towards Julan. “The question is whether drunk tank here can cope with it.”

Julan frowned. “I’ll be fine.” 

“You sure about that? You got pretty hammered last night.” Ribyna’s voice was casual, but the glare she fixed Julan with was hard and cold. “You almost drank a hole in Fahji’s coin purse.”

“What does that even—” 

“Guys!” Fahjoth said abruptly, rubbing his temple as he spoke. Better to nip this in the bud before it became blown out of proportion. “Let’s get going, shall we? It’s a fair way to Suran. It’d be nice to get there before it gets dark.”

Neither Ribyna nor Julan continued to bicker, but the scathing looks they shot at each other instead left Fahjoth’s nerves shot. Julan’s eyes eventually met Fahjoth’s own and he began to look quite guilty. 

“Sorry, Fahjoth,” Julan said. “Go ahead.” 

Fahjoth flashed Julan a small smile of appreciation before setting off out of town. The balmy afternoon sun warming the top of his head offered little comfort as he dreaded having to break up fight after fight between his two companions, an outcome that was looking more likely by the minute. 

                   ——————————————

The journey to Suran passed mostly in a very strained silence. Fahjoth would make conversation with Julan or with Ribyna, but never both at the same time, as they seemed to be doing their best to ignore each other. Fahjoth wasn’t sure whether he preferred that over the snide comments and defensive retorts. 

His contact in Suran, Serjo Avon Oran, resided in what was possibly the grandest house Fahjoth had ever set foot in. Delicate steps and care to avoid breaking or dirtying anything led the three to Oran; on speaking to him, Fahjoth learned that the bandits were occupying a cave among the hills to the northeast. 

“Be careful,” Oran had cautioned. “Nasty piece of work, those bandits. But take out their leader, Daldur Sarys, and the rest should scatter. Good luck.” 

With this advice in mind, Fahjoth was thoughtful as they exited Oran Manor and stepped out into the cool Suran evening. 

“I felt so weird being in a house like that,” Julan remarked. “I was expecting someone to yell at me for trailing muck all over their floor…” 

“You know, you were trailing a lot more than muck in there,” Ribyna replied. She sniffed, looking down at Julan’s boots. “Is that guar shit?” 

A momentary flash of alarm crossed Julan’s face and he hastily lifted up his foot to check the underside of his shoe, only to scowl as Ribyna in turn cackled like a hyena. 

“Don’t listen to her, she’s winding you up,” Fahjoth said with a sigh. “Right, well, if you’re done, shall we get going? We’re losing daylight. Unless we got a room for the night and headed out first thing.” 

“Oh no, I’m not hanging around any longer than I need to!” Ribyna insisted, already turning on her heel and strolling out under the town’s entrance archway. “We’re going. What are you? Men or scribs?” 

“You know that shit doesn’t work on me!” Fahjoth called, but nonetheless he followed suit, glancing back to ensure that Julan was following. 

“Well, come on then! You and Guar-Boy better get a move on, or those bandits will have died of old age by the time we get there.” 

Fahjoth said nothing, merely trotted along in Ribyna’s wake with an exasperated roll of his eyes. Likewise, Julan was quiet, but when Fahjoth risked a peek back at him, he caught him furiously mouthing “Guar-Boy?!” under his breath. 

The road to Saturan was pleasantly empty. With the shadows cast by the sun growing as it sank behind the hills, plunging them into the bitterly chilly shade, Fahjoth was grateful that they encountered no trouble along the way. 

By the time they located Saturan, dusk had come and gone, leaving only clear dark skies glittering with distant stars overhead. Fahjoth shivered as he stared at the cave entrance, the dilapidated wooden door concealing the unknown that lay within. He took a few cautious steps closer and gently pushed the door open, wincing as the hinges emitted a slight, shrill creak. The inside of the cave stretched further in than Fahjoth could see, its earthy tunnels lit by bracketed torches propped up on long iron poles jutting up from the ground. 

The entrance cave meandered on for a short distance, descending deeper into the hill until opening up into a much larger cavern. The path was supplemented by a rough wooden boardwalk, its far end strewn with crates and candles and a ladder leading down to the lower levels. Fahjoth scuttled along, taking care not to hit his head on the low-hanging stalactites until he reached the crates, and beckoned Julan and Ribyna along behind him as he tucked himself behind one. Here, they looked down upon the lower boardwalk, where a few others paced back and forth, carrying boxes and sacks of loot back and forth. Fahjoth’s gaze was fixed down below, but he heard Ribyna and Julan settling down and crouching on either side. 

“So, these must be the bandits,” Julan whispered. “Have you got a plan?” 

“Sort of,” Fahjoth answered. “We need to get to the leader, somehow. Daldur Sarys. If we can take him out with a sneak attack, the rest should scatter like Oran said.”

“Right! So… how do we get to Sarys? Which one is Sarys, anyway?”

Fahjoth paused, frowning as he stared down at the bandit activity below. Truthfully, it was impossible to know exactly who their target was; all they could do was hope to hear his name brought up in conversation and go from there. But how long could they stay put, before someone discovered them and raised the alarm? 

As Fahjoth pondered this rather pressing dilemma, he became aware of a soft rustling and clinking coming from his left. He glanced over, his heart beginning to hammer as he watched Ribyna idly rummaging through one of the crates. 

“Oh hey, look!” She held up what seemed to be a bottle of sujamma, admiring it in the soft orange light of a nearby candle. “There’s loads of this shit in here! We won’t have to buy drinks for like, a week with this lot.” 

Like Fahjoth, Julan’s agitation was evident. 

“Put that down, they’ll hear you!” he hissed, lunging for the bottle. Though he made contact, Ribyna refused to relinquish it, keeping a firm grip on it herself. 

“Piss off, Guar-Boy, get your own!” 

“I’m not trying to steal it, you s’wit!”

“Oh yeah, right-o! I bet you’d be happy to guzzle this whole crate by yourself, you fucking alchie!” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?! Let go—!” 

With one sharp tug from Julan, the bottle was wrenched from Ribyna’s grip. But Julan, not expecting Ribyna to let go, toppled back and hit the boardwalk with a dull thud. His elbow struck the wood and the bottle was flung from his grasp, sailing over the side of the boardwalk and crashing against the wooden deck below, shattering on impact and splattering its sweet, frothy innards in a graceful explosion of liquor. 

“Shit—!”

Fahjoth ducked back behind the crates, keeping himself as low to the ground as possible as he reached out towards Julan and hauled him back to safety as soon as he felt their hands meet. As the three huddled together, their breathing laboured with the effort of remaining as silent as possible, Fahjoth strained his ears to listen. 

It was quiet. Far too quiet. The sounds of activity below ceased entirely as all bandits froze in their tracks. 

“What the hell?” 

Over the sound of Fahjoth’s own rapid heartbeat reverberating in his head, he listened to the soft creaking of the wooden planks beneath the bandits’ cautious feet becoming louder as the seconds ticked by. They couldn’t remain there for much longer. 

“Fahjoth,” Julan whispered, “we have to do something.” He paused to listen for a moment before continuing with the same hushed urgency, “If we all rush out at the same time, maybe we can catch them off-guard.”

“Yeah. It’s our best chance,” Fahjoth agreed. “Alright... ready? One... two... three!”

Julan led the assault. He vaulted down the steps and engaged with the first bandit, an Orc who was unlucky enough to be standing closest. As Fahjoth followed suit, from his periphery he saw Ribyna leap over the crates and land on the lower boardwalk where she lunged at the closest bandit. The force from her collision knocked them both clean off the edge, causing a loud squelch as they landed in the muck beneath. 

Fahjoth drew his weapon as he charged forward and the Redguard bandit in front of him scrambled back for distance, reaching for his own axe. But Fahjoth was faster, and the Redguard hollered as his hand was struck with Fahjoth’s sword, leaving an angry, weeping welt across his knuckles. With the blade sailing ever closer, the Redguard threw up both hands in an act of surrender. 

“I yield!” he cried, and Fahjoth ceased his attack. There was no way he could kill a surrendering man... But his sword hand did not waver, and after a second he spoke the first thing that came to mind. 

“I’ll give you one chance,” he said, his voice heavy with threat. “Your group’s done. Get out.”

The Redguard needed no encouragement. Edging around Fahjoth’s sword, he broke into a sprint up the steps and fled, his footsteps echoing down the cavern until the creaking of the door in the distance announced his departure. 

As he caught his breath, Fahjoth glanced around to see how his companions were faring. His eyes fell on Julan; his sword was slick with blood and his opponent had dropped twitching to the ground, and a surge of admiration welled up in Fahjoth’s chest. He opened his mouth to call over to him, but the air froze in his chest as a shadow caught his eye. 

A hunched figure crept closer to Julan, the glint of a blade flashing in the candlelight as it was drawn from its sheath. 

“Julan!” Fahjoth yelled, kicking off into a mad dash back up the boardwalk to his friend. The figure, a Dunmer, recognising that his cover had been blown, fully brandished his weapon and rushed towards Julan as well. As Julan raised his own sword, Fahjoth caught up with the bandit and threw himself legs-first at the bandit’s ankles. 

A burning pain radiated out from his shin as the bandit’s foot collided with it. Fahjoth skidded to the ground, but his effort had been enough. The Dunmer, tripped up by Fahjoth’s sliding tackle, stumbled forward — and directly into range of Julan’s shortsword. Julan lunged, impaling the bandit clean through the neck. With blood dribbling from his gurgling mouth, the bandit crumpled to his knees, and after a hard kick to the chest from Julan, he dropped to the ground and fell still. 

With his leg throbbing, Fahjoth struggled to get his feet, but Julan was quick to approach and offer a hand which he gladly accepted. But before he could say his thanks, footsteps at the end of the cavern alerted them to the arrival of two more Dunmer. 

One of them, donning thick chitin armour, stared at the scene in shock before his angular features twisted with rage. 

“You’ll regret killing my people, you n’wah!” he hissed, drawing a glimmering sword as he stepped closer. Behind him, the second Dunmer — donning the elegant robes of a mage — raised his hands as he prepared a blistering fiery spell. Julan prepared his own spell in retaliation, but before the mage could attack, a dark figure on the ground beneath the boardwalk suddenly lunged at his legs. 

The mage howled as Ribyna plunged her dagger into his knee, and as he was rendered lame and unbalanced, she grabbed his robes and dragged him down to the ground with her. The head bandit  — Daldur Sarys — snapped his head around in alarm, and Fahjoth took his opportunity. 

He struck at Sarys with his sword, but Sarys faced him in time to block it with his own, the hilt vibrating in Fahjoth’s hand and the blades screeching as they clashed. As Fahjoth jumped back to avoid Sarys’ retaliation, Julan’s voice rang out from behind. 

“Fahjoth, get down!” 

Without hesitation, Fahjoth ducked. 

The hairs on the back of his neck prickled as a crackling energy sailed overhead. He risked peering up in time to witness a bolt of electricity crashing down on Sarys. As the magic jolted through his body, he gave a choked gasp and stumbled back, and Fahjoth took his chance. He whacked at Sarys’ sword arm, and — as he drew a deep breath and steeled himself — slashed his blade across the bandit’s throat. 

With a deep laceration in his neck now gushing blood, Sarys began to stagger on the spot. A weak glow illuminated his hand as he tried desperately to heal himself, but the damage had already been done. Unable to breathe, and with his own blood generously painting both himself and the wooden planks beneath his feet, Sarys could only remain standing for a few seconds more before his legs gave way beneath him and, like the rest of his comrades, he collapsed. 

With the silence in the cavern now punctuated only by the sound of their ragged panting, Fahjoth turned to face Julan, taking deep breaths in an attempt to force his heart rate back to normal. The pain in his leg now pulsed much more noticeably than before. 

“I think that’s all of them,” he said, limping to meet Julan and weakly wiggling his sword to shake off the blood. “Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine,” Julan answered. “What about you? Is your leg okay? That fall looked nasty.”

“It will be,” Fahjoth replied, but before he could continue, a noise behind them caused them both to whirl around in alarm. Fahjoth’s heart hammered again, but it calmed as soon as he realised it was just Ribyna, wearily clambering back up onto the boardwalk from the muddy cave floor beneath, splattered from head to foot with a grim combination of muck and blood. Fahjoth started towards her and offered a hand to help her up — which she ignored entirely. 

“Beebs! Are you alright—“ 

“No thanks to you.”

Fahjoth paused. “What d’you mean?“ She had since got to her feet, but as Fahjoth tried to reach out to her again, he faltered as she smacked his hand away. “Ribyna, what’s the matter?”

Ribyna didn’t answer. Instead she gave a derisive scoff, turning away from Fahjoth and making a half-hearted attempt to clean the grime off her leathers. Confusion gave way to a prickling anger as Fahjoth’s blood began to boil. 

Before he could stop himself, he had snapped back. 

“What exactly is your problem? I mean if it wasn’t for you fighting with Julan, none of this would have happened in the first place! What the hell were you thinking?!” 

Ribyna let out a humourless laugh. “Oh yeah, that’s right! Go on, blame me instead of your new best mate who can do no wrong!”

“What?” Fahjoth’s mouth dropped open as he stumbled over his words. “W— where’s this coming from?” 

“As if you need to ask! It’s like he’s the only one who matters now!”

From beside him, Fahjoth noticed Julan bristle and take a breath as he prepared his retort. Fahjoth held up a hand and shot him a pleading glance — a silent request to let him handle this situation, which Julan thankfully obliged. 

“Beebs, you’re being ridiculous—”

“Am I, though?! Ever since he joined us, you’ve been siding with him and defending him all the time!”

Fahjoth frowned, his frustration from Ribyna’s behaviour over the past few days finally bubbling over and spilling out. “Because you’ve been treating him like shit!”

“He treated us like shit, Fahjoth! Or have you forgotten already?!”

“I apologised for that,” Julan interjected with a frown. 

Glancing between Julan and Ribyna, Fahjoth nodded. “He did apologise for that, Beebs.”

Ribyna cackled again, a rough, unpleasant sound devoid of any mirth. “There, you’re doing it again! Well, d’you know what, I’m done. I’m fed up of you picking this random guar-fucker over your own fucking family.”

Fahjoth stepped back, Ribyna’s words hitting him like a punch to the face as a wave of unease washed over him. “But... I’m not—”

“Save it!”

She turned away, and Fahjoth’s stomach churned as he noticed an unmistakable dark red stain oozing from her hairline, just before her temple. 

“Ribyna? Did you— are you hurt?”

He stepped closer again and cautiously touched her shoulder, but another hard strike from Ribyna sent him recoiling instantly.

“Ribyna—!”

“Fuck you both. See you ‘round.” 

Ignoring Fahjoth’s cries, Ribyna wheeled around and stormed off with a distinct unsteadiness in her steps. His gut twisting and a cold sweat settling on his skin, Fahjoth continued to shout after his twin long after her angry footsteps had receded into silence. 

“Ribyna!” 

With nothing answering him but the gentle dripping of water from the cave roof, Fahjoth dropped his head into his hand and sighed. Things had been tense with Ribyna lately, but he hadn’t anticipated such a blow-out. He hadn’t realised she still held such a grudge for Julan’s attitude on their first encounter. Why couldn’t she have just talked to him about this? He was used to her stubborn reticence, but it was still incredibly frustrating. 

“I’m sorry.”

Fahjoth turned around. Julan was standing there, looking almost as wretched as Fahjoth felt. 

“What are you apologising for, mate?” 

Julan wrung his hands, dropping his gaze. “I just… I feel like this is all my fault.”

“Hey, don’t be daft!” Fahjoth took a few hasty steps forward until he was close enough to rest his hands on Julan’s shoulders. “It’s not your fault. Ribyna is just…” He grimaced, shrugging as he wondered how best to explain. “She isn’t the easiest person in the world to get on with. She doesn’t really… make friends very easily.” 

“But my point still stands!” Julan protested. “Me being here is just causing you problems. You wouldn’t be fighting with your twin if it wasn’t for me.” 

Fahjoth scoffed. “I wouldn’t be so sure. We always squabble over… pretty much everything. But— look…” He gave Julan’s shoulders a squeeze and crouched the few inches necessary until they were at eye-level with each other, trying to convey his sincerity with a small smile. “I promised I’d help you train, and I’m sticking to that. Whether that’s with or without Ribyna. Okay?”

Julan managed a weak smile in return. “Okay.” 

“Anyway, you’re not just causing me problems!” Fahjoth continued. “Look at what we did today! I wouldn’t have been able to do it without you, mate.”

“You probably would have. But thanks.” Julan’s smile gradually became a grin. “We do make a pretty good team, don’t we?”

Fahjoth’s smile widened. “Damn right we do!” Without thinking, he pulled Julan into an enthusiastic one-armed hug — only to panic as he realised what he’d done. Had he crossed a line? He didn’t know what Julan’s stance on physical contact was; what if he was offended?

“Sorry, I just—” he began babbling as he backed off, but Julan simply laughed and patted Fahjoth on the shoulder in return. 

“It’s fine,” he said. “So… shall we get going? I could kill for a mazte right now!”

Fahjoth raised a brow, glancing around at the bloodied heaps of bodies dotted around the cave. “I think we already did, mate.” He flashed Julan another grin and set off, limping out of the cave while frequently looking back to ensure that Julan was following. “I think we’ve more than earned that mazte.”

“Hah, you’re right.” He glanced down at Fahjoth’s leg, noticing his awkward gait. “Are you sure your leg’s alright?” 

“Oh, it’ll be fine, don’t worry,” Fahjoth replied, waving Julan’s concern aside with an airy flick of his wrist. “It’s just a bit bruised, I think.” 

“As long as you’re sure. You know, that was an impressive tackle.” Julan paused, a thoughtful look on his face as he trotted along beside Fahjoth. “I heard you letting one of them go.” 

Fahjoth faltered, his grin slipping away to a wry smile. “Yeah… he was yielding. I couldn’t bring myself to kill someone after they’d surrendered.” 

“You’ve got better morals than half of Morrowind then. At least.” For a moment, Fahjoth wasn’t sure whether that was meant to be taken as a compliment or an insult, but Julan continued, “Oh, I’m not criticising! I think it’s nice. Just… be careful, okay? I’d hate to see anything happen to you.” 

A curious feeling settled in Fahjoth’s stomach. He glanced at Julan, the earnesty on his face clear to see even in the low light of the nearby torch flames, and instantly Fahjoth felt a rush of gratitude and affection for his new friend. The idea that another person cared that much about him warmed him from the inside out, even as they stepped out into the chilly night air. 

“Cheers, mate,” he said, clapping Julan on the shoulder as another smile lifted his cheeks. “Let’s go tell Oran the good news, then go get those drinks.”

Julan grinned back, lightly bumping Fahjoth’s shoulder with his own. 

“Sounds good to me.”

[inkribbon796]

Alea Iacta Est Ch. 2: The Still Hourglass

Summary: The hunt for Dark’s newest spawnlings is on.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3

King was dead to the world, completely asleep when his phone began to ring, the custom ringtone of the chorus from “I Love Myself” by the Wannadies playing.

Grumbling in anger, King blindly fumbled for his phone and answered it, “Fuck you, Ills, what time is it?”

“Seven,” Illinois answered over the phone as King dragged his hand across his face. “Look, I wouldn’t have called if I couldn’t find Host, Dark’s got more spawnlings, I need help finding them.”

“I’m going back to bed,” King decided.

“No! Kay, please,” Illinois begged and that was what started actually waking King up, Illinois really sounded that desperate. “Dad’s not doing well, I need to find them.”

“Okay, okay,” King reached over for his glasses, starting to accidentally signal to Lunky that it was time to get up and the spawnling started screeching. “I’m up, just buy me a coffee.”

“After this is all done, I’ll buy you whatever the hell you want,” Illinois promised.

Across the other side of the Egoton portion of town, Mark, Amy, and Ethan had already gotten up.

It was foggy from a rare summer cold spell. They were having an earlier day than usual since they were scheduled for an earlier patrol later.

They had their dogs with them and were talking about random topics while on a run in their normal clothes. Or at least Mark was shit talking and Ethan was shit talking to him back. Either way it was a calm morning.

Then Spencer stopped almost dead, tugging the leash as he stared down the street. The dog began growling, Ethan could physically see the hairs on the little shepherd standing up.

“Ethan?” Mark slowed down but he was still a good twenty feet away from him with Amy and their dogs. Chica was whining and Henry was just staring silently at the same direction Spencer was growling in.

“I don’t know, he just stopped,” Ethan looked around for any trouble. He saw what was wrong a bit too late. There was a patch of darker fog creeping towards him, about the size of a small mountain bike, much bigger than how he’d started out as a dinner plate sized cloud.

Spencer had smelt him but Ethan didn’t see him coming until the spawnling pounced.

A flash of aura, coated in words moved through the group and the dogs were suddenly gone, back home and fully rested and fed after their walk. But their owners didn’t move with them.

Ethan suddenly became aware that it got hard to breathe. Mark and Amy ran over to try and help Ethan when they were jumped by similar aura clouds, Mark trying to fly out of the crowd but he felt something almost pin him in place.

After a bit of a struggle the fog began to get burned away in the morning summer heat and the three heroes stood there, pushed to the back of their own minds.

“That was way more difficult than I thought it was going to be,” Mark heard himself say.

Ethan heard a bubbling laugh come from his own throat, “Let’s split up and see who can cause the most damage. I bet it’s me.”

“Eat shit, you’re on,” the demon controlling Mark spat and immediately turned tail and ran, Amy watching them both run off in different directions before the demon used her flight to take off into the sky. The Host watching the three of them go.

What most heroes woke up to was chaos. It didn’t take long for them to realize that, one, it was Silver and Crank causing the problem; and, two, they were being controlled by demons.

Not that the pair of demons let themselves get caught. The trio of demons had already been going crazy consuming aura before they took their bodies. The death troll had already risen to ten before the heroes’ bodies had been hijacked. Now things were getting worse with a super strong hero who could fly and one who could turn invisible being controlled by demons.

Marvin ran out with Chase in the hopes of finding Silver because Crank had gone invisible and some accounts said he had slipped into the river and was refusing to be drawn back out. Bing was on the hunt with Oliver and Logan to find Crank.

But it was Illinois who had joined the search with King who found one of the trio first.

“What do yeh mean there’s a third one ‘a these fookers?”[1] Marvin demanded, his voice coming over King’s communicator.

“There were three of them,” Illinois explained. “Just don’t kill them, let me trap them and—”

Illinois paused as he watched a woman walk towards them, cautious and careful.

The adventurer froze at the cloud of aura around her, the spawnling was already so much bigger and more powerful than when they had escaped the Manor.

“Might have found one, Marv, call you back,” King warned and lowered his communicator.

“Hey,” Illinois greeted.

“Hi,” she smiled back. “Where’s the pink one?”

“You mean Wil?” Illinois asked.

The spawnling had Amy nod, “Yes, I like his aura more.”

Illinois smiled in triumph and took out one of the pieces of chalk, laced with Dark’s aura, that he used to open up portals. “Alright we’ll just head back home and—”

Thick black and white aura began to cloud around the demon’s human host, a threat, “Not so fast.”

“I’m not doing anything wrong,” Illinois started trying to move in front of King. “I can take us back to the Manor, you can calm down. Both of them are there.”

The spawnling was quiet before dropping her host, Amy falling away and crashing to the ground in a semi-conscious daze. The spawnling still looked like her, her outfit part white and part black,

“You got a name?” Illinois asked.

“Tempus,” she introduced, stepping away from Amy as the hero began to shakily pick herself up. King moved slowly to get to her and pull her away.

“You okay?” King began to whisper as Illinois drew open a portal and made sure to show it led back to the Manor and he walked through first, Tempus following him into the Manor’s entrance hall.

“Okay, you know where the other two are?” Illinois asked her.

Tempus gave a noncommittal shrug, looking around the Manor.

“I’m trying to keep them from being killed, I would appreciate a little help,” Illinois barked at her.

The argument was cut off before it could even begin as Illinois heard Dark and Wil arguing as Dark was coming down the stairs.

“For the last time, I’m fine, I’ve been asleep far too long,” Dark dismissed, his aura curled protectively around him.

“At least grab something to eat,” Wil insisted before the two of them saw Illinois and Tempus. “Oh, hello.”

“We’re still trying to find the other two,” Illinois told Dark as he walked over. “They’re causing a scene all over town.”

“I noticed,” Dark told him hesitantly. “Hello, my dear.”

Tempus was extremely hesitant about approaching him, as if he’d strike out against her. An action Dark had neither the heart nor drive to do now that she held her own sentience, and Wil’s aura still was palpable amidst her own.

“Sweetie?” Wil rushed over and picked her up, twirling her around, before setting her back down and cupping her face gently in his hands. “You’ve gotten so big. It seems like just yesterday you could fit in the palm of my hand.”

“They separated this morning, Wil,” Dark reminded sharply. “Your name, my dear?”

She smiled at him, “Tempus.”

“And where are your siblings, Tempus?” Dark asked.

“I saw them a little bit ago, but I don’t know where they are now,” Tempus admitted as the group heard an audible gasp from the top of the stairs.

The four of them saw Yan, leaning over the railing of the stairs and staring at Tempus. When Tempus looked back at her, Yan ducked a little bit.

“Yan come meet your sister, Tempus,” Wilford cheerfully introduced.

Yan came down the stairs nervously ducked behind Dark, who was eyeing his new sister carefully.

There was a little bit of tense silence as Yan peeked out from behind Dark. “Can we be friends and have sleepovers and makeovers?” Yan asked Tempus.

“Well see,” Tempus allowed but smiled at Yan. Yan’s eyes got all big and hopeful.

As the situation defused, Illinois walked over to Dark and began debriefing him on the current situation.

“—and pretty sure we’re going to have to fish the other one out of the river,” Illinois concluded.

“Right, the sooner the better,” Dark agreed, and threw open a portal.

Illinois, however, caught the fact that his hand was shaking as he did so. “No, you should go back to bed, I’ll take care of it.”

“I’ve been in bed for far too long today, stay with your father,” Dark walked through a portal, and Illinois followed him before he could close it fast enough.

“What are you doing?” Dark demanded.

“Staying with my father,” Illinois didn’t break eye contact. “If you’re not going back to bed, like you should, then neither am I.”

“I shouldn’t be in bed, I don’t need to sleep,” Dark scoffed defensively. “I am fine.”

“I’m not going to watch you almost die again,” Illinois told him.

“If I died then I was too weak to handle it in the first place,” Dark scoffed.

“No it’ll be because you pushed yourself too far, why can’t you just let us take care of you, Dad,” Illinois ordered.

“I am not your father,” Dark spat, his mental walls coming up.

“Then who is it? Because it sure as shit isn’t Wil!” Illinois shouted in anger. “He was never my dad, it was always yours!”

Dark’s next words lodged in his throat, and with his already weakened state, he couldn’t stop his blue soul from reaching out for Illinois.

The effect was almost instantaneous, the adventurer felt the impact of such overwhelming emotions that it immediately brought tears to his eyes. The burden of pain, loss, fear, longing, and the need to never let go.

Illinois reached out and pulled Dark in for a hug, the Entity trying frantically to pull his blue soul back into compliance. He wanted to reach out and destroy something, to point to it and warn everyone that he was still dangerous.

But the only thing in his arms was Illinois, and his mind stalled.

When Dark could finally get the soul under control, or at least not screaming in his mind as much, he found he had a new problem, Illinois’s aura was latched into his. Even as Illinois started to pull back, he held on, “You know, even if I was calling Wil “Dad”, I am allowed to have two dads.”

“Stop,” Dark told him, realizing that his own voice was choked up, instinctively looking around to see if anyone was watching them. Thankfully the answer was no. “Don’t give me this so it can get ripped away.”

Illinois leaned back so he could look Dark dead in the eyes, “You’re my dad, and nothing is going to change that, I promise.”

Dark held onto Illinois’s arm, trying desperately not to get even more, impossibly, emotionally attached than he already was.

He was failing. Miserably. Happily.

Illinois smiled again and Dark couldn’t help but get a little hopeful. “Come on, let’s go find those two runts before they get themselves killed.”

With that Illinois led Dark away as they followed the sounds of chaos.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Accessibility Translations:

1. What do you mean there’s a third one of these fuckers?

[black-streak]

Saturday night's alright for fighting (but Sundays are meant for rest) - His Shadow

Part 6

I'm already on part?! 6?!?! How did I get here?!

Also! Tag list??? I am a person who has one now? How even? @poshplumcot @emjrabbitwolf @mystery-5-5 @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @fandomkitty8 @dast218 @silvergold-swirl and I know you didn't ask to be, but @littleblue5mcdork your comments give me life, so I'm tagging you.

~---~

At approximately 12:34 am, Monday morning, a phone rang, abruptly waking the two occupants of the room.

"That better be important, or someone is going to pay."

"Stay quiet, it's Nightwing."

The use of vigilante names queued her in and she fell silent as Tim answered.

"What happened," he demanded, voice dipping in tone. 

Marinette couldn't hear everything, but she caught the jist of it.

Riddler had missed a few too many therapy appointments and was currently sending them all on a scavenger hunt, multiple hostages involved. She couldn't pick out who the hostages were or the locations, but that was fine. Tim knew, so as long as she followed him, it wouldn't matter.

Ending the call, he made his way past her and into the bathroom, talking as he went to change.

"Three bats are out of town, so they need me out there."

"Not the brightest, all traveling at the same time. Oracle and A still there?"

Shaking his head at the reminder that she knew all their identities and exactly which three had gone, he called back, "A is on it, but Oracle was unavailable."

"Good. Easier that way," was said as a flash of light poured in below the door, disappearing almost as immediately.

Coming out of the bathroom, he found his room empty.

"You plan to follow me," he stated.

"Of course," whispered back from the shadows, in a husky alto, neither feminine nor masculine in persuasion.

"There's no convincing you to stay put either, is there," still a statement.

A hum was his only answer, so he led the way towards the upstairs roof access, not wanting to take a chance with his own apartment window. Not a random safe house, after all.

"Suppose I don't have to tell you to stay hidden, but try not to give yourself away completely."

He was met by a chuckle and took that for the not promise it was, taking off across the rooftops, no sound other than his own near silent boots hitting pavement to indicate his little stalker.

…

He ended up in the one location that had Riddler actually present inside. Of course. Just his luck. Normally, Red would be thrilled at the chance to end this as quickly as possible, but for once, he had hoped against hope that one of the others would take care of this while he just solved a few puzzles, set someone free, and received a brief com relay that Bats had this one from there. 

Now he had to ensure not only that he solved everything and took Riddler down personally, but also had to watch the back of a shadow that he couldn't even keep track of. Sure, Red had seen her handiwork countless times, how clean and efficient the crime scene was. But mostly when she aimed to make the villains fool themselves into failing, leaving nothing of herself. The one time she did take matters fully into hand, he'd only seen the aftermath. And none of that accounted for never having worked with her. 

Needless to say, Red was stressed. Which led to a lack of focus that made finding his way to the underground archives of the library (yes, library) that riddler set up in take twice as long. Having made his way around 12 different traps, a few of which were already cleared up and solved before he arrived, he couldn't claim surprise that Hood and Nightwing were in his ear, having already cleaned up their own parts. 

"Where you at, babybird?"

"Entering the inner archives now."

"Not finished yet? Thought you were quicker than this," Hood teased.

"You were already on the scene when N called."

"Excuses excuses."

"We're entering the library now. Be down to back you up in a moment," Nightwing responded, cheerfully ignoring their antics.

"It's just Riddler, you don't need to help," He rushed to reassure, wanting to keep them and Mari separate in such an enclosed space. 

"Never underestimate a villain off their meds, Red. Almost there."

And that's how he found himself in this situation. Every time an attack came either towards Hood or Wing, they'd have to deflect or defend themselves, but every henchman that even looked in his direction became immediately distracted by something else. Honestly, at this rate, he could probably waltz right up to Riddler and finish this now, but he couldn't help but sit back and observe. 

One goon turned towards him, only to jump to the right, seemingly trip on his own two feet, and end up at the receiving end of an escrima stick.

Another freaked out and ran away from something only to slam directly into another fighting Hood. Both only took a moment to go down in the distraction. Two others ran from the room without any prompting. Soon enough they had Riddler in captivity, called in to Batman and Agent A, and left after handing the situation to the police. 

"What the hell, you barely even helped!" Hood yelled the second they landed on Red's apartment rooftop, Wing having already returned to finish his patrol for the night.

"Yeah, and I'm supposed to have Sunday nights off."

"It's Monday morning and that's never held you back before."

"... We weren't alone," he let on, knowing he needed to offer up some explanation for his lacking response down there.

"... They were in there?"

"Yeah. I was observing for more information."

"That would explain the idiots tripping over themselves more than usual, I guess. What'd you find out?"

"Nothing more than we already knew. Evasive, lets the opponent take themself out. Some seemed to be running from something. Whoever it is seems intelligent as well. Took out a few traps before I even reached them. Went around others completely if they were already in that room when we arrived."

"That doesn't help us though," Hood stated, arms crossed where he leaned against a wall. 

Blue/silver eyes appeared beside him, serious looking and tilted, giving the impression she was mimicking Hood's stance from less than two feet away. It took a monumental effort not to laugh.

"Not even slightly."

Heaving a sigh, Hood pulled off the wall and walked over to the edge, the eyes following him, rolling in mock exasperation.

"I'll have A look over the footage of the library, see if we can pick anything up," he called back, muttering about subpar cameras and lack of funding to inner city libraries before taking off towards the Manor. 

For a second, the eyes disappeared, only for a figure to appear in the corner, shaded by two walls of the roof where the access door was.

Glancing around to ensure the others were long out of sight or range, he turned off his comm and took it out. Walking over to the edge of the shadow, he paused.

"No backlash for giving away your existence?"

"None at all. If I didn't want them finding out, I wouldn't have helped. As you implied, you had it under control."

"You're introducing yourself."

"Mhm! In a way where no one can deny I'm good or mistake me for a bad guy. I've seen how quick some of you are to attack first and interrogate later. Figure I'll allow interrogation later when I'm a more established presence."

He raised an eyebrow and stared her down a minute before she broke.

"Aaand I might enjoy messing with them a little. It's fun to see the 'World's Greatest Detectives' fumble all over themselves to figure out who's hiding right underneath their noses."

"Speaking of which, you plan on actually letting me see you, or just stand in the corner all night" he snarked.

"Hmm… not in the open. I'll meet you in your room."

With that, she disappeared once more.

…

Upon entering his room, Tim thought one of Ra's assassins had come for him once more. 'Hadn't that freak old man taken up a new obsession?!' Only to pause at seeing the same gray to blue eyes from the roof peering out from under the hood. 

Flicking on a lamp much closer to her, he took in the full extent of the costume. Noticing a tail only barely peeking out around her calf and the sharp claws on her fingertips, Tim heaved a sigh.

"Tell me you're not cat themed. Dick will never let me live it down after all the shit we gave Bruce about Selina."

"More foxed themed if anything, though the eyes are more cat related," she giggled, voice still altered to her form.

"Pure black foxes are pretty rare. Sure it's not a fluffy black cat," he eyed her suspiciously.

"Not pure!" The tail lifted up to in front of her, the gray tip fully displayed.

"... It moved."

"Yes?"

"Why'd it move? I know for a fact you don't have a real fox tail outside of costume, so how?"

"Oh you know, do you? For your information, I have fox ears too."

Looking bewildered, he strode over to her, reaching for the hood. Squeaking, she disappeared once more. Coming back to himself, Tim took a step back, apologized, and requested she come out again. Reappearing before him, she watches him wearily, instincts on high alert and unable to reconcile the still masked Red Robin with Tim, despite them being one in the same.

"Could… you take off the mask first?"

"What?"

"I've kept out of Red's sight for too long, I can't get my instincts to calm down about it," she ducked her head down, almost squirming, reminding him who exactly was under that outfit.

Removing the mask slowly so as not to rip at the skin, he placed it down on the nightstand. He reached once more for the hood, watching for any reaction. When no resistance came forth, he slipped it down around her shoulders, the lower face cover not even twitching, as though held in place by other means. 

There they were. Two big, fluffy black fox ears with gray tips and insides surrounded by loose silky gray locks. He couldn't resist. Tim gently grabbed an ear, rubbing his thumb across baby down textured insides. It twitched across his palm. Tilting the ear each way, he finally let go, only to run his fingers across the base as though looking for how it attached, pulling a low purr from the woman he had absentmindedly been fondling the ear of. Abruptly yanking his hand back, he stared down at Mari.

"They're real."

"Very."

"You're a furry."

"I'm a what?"

"Holy smokes, you're an honest to goodness Furry."

"... Says the man who regularly calls himself Red Robin, eh, babybird?"

Flushing bright red, Tim could only sputter, not realizing she had heard Jason call him that.

"Still not the one with an actual tail and ears!"

"Yeah, at least I didn't chicken out like some animal named heroes."

"And I suppose your name is as blatant as your costume?"

"Hmm?"

"Your name, you still haven't given it."

"Oh! Um, it's Teumessian."

"Teu-whata?"

"You know, like in greek mythology?"

"That's more Jason's line of expertise."

"Tuemessian was a fox that was destined to never be caught. Another name for it is Cadmean Vixen. Suppose you could call me Vixen for short," she purred up to him, eyes turning into slits, but cut short as a huge yawn overcame her.

"Alright, whatever you say Vixen. You get back into bed and I'll join you in a moment." 

….

By the time Tim exited the bathroom for the last time that night, Mari was already passed out across his sheets.

"Can't believe I'm dating a furry."

[hecohansen31]

Like I Never Needed Anyone

Oleg The Prophet+Reader (Modern! AU)

(A/N): Hello there, lovelies!

Ahh this is the fic with which I am entering the “400 followers celebration” (congrats again, sweetie!) made by @youbloodymadgenius.

For once I low key ditched Ivar (I am sorry babe) for Oleg (also GUYS… I HAVE JUST DISCOVERED THAT THE ACTOR WAS THE ONE WHO PLAYED DIMITRI IN ‘VAMPIRE ACCADEMY’, another crush of my heart..I… am in love).

As always any feedback is more than welcome, even more if you want to see this pairing again!

Have a nice day!

SUMMARY: Life isn’t easy when you are slowly recovering from a break-up in a new city and with a new job, but an handsome Russian prince might just come in and save the day.

WORDS: 7.8K

WARNINGS: Self Esteem Issues, Break-Up, Toxic Friends. low key OOC OLeg (I am sorry but when I usually write modern AU, I try to soften the characters, so sorry), Unprotected Sex (WRAP IT UP BABE, YOU ARE NOT MILIONAIRES RUSSIAN PRINCES… I think) Rough Sex (Dom-Sub Undertones), Dirty Talk, Degrading Talk. Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Fingering, Cum Play, Boss-Employee Relationship.

Destiny sometimes worked in the most mysterious of ways.

The day you had been give one of the best news of your life, your boyfriend had decided to break up with you.

That day you had come back home after having been given a role as a curator in a private gallery in Russia, your boyfriend had been waiting for you with his suitcase by the door.

‘Babe did you already pack the suitcase?’ you had joked, bringing him back inside as you caught him in the act of leaving, thinking he might have played you a joke, since you had sent him the message with the good news after you had received them.

No threat ruining your perfect day.

You had been working so hard to gain a work that properly matched with your skills.

The previous year you had refused a job offer abroad because of your boyfriend’s own career since he was slowly setting himself up in his new job and you didn’t want to disrupt the building romance that was growing.

You had been working through unpaid researches and part-time jobs, that didn’t help you feel confident and enough, but you had gone through them thinking about the small life you were creating with your boyfriend, more as a way to get out of the ‘single system’ than for actual love for Peter, your boyfriend.

He wasn’t your true soulmate, but you had long given up finding it, not wanting to fall again into the annoying scheme of being the only ‘single girl’ among your friends.

Also, you dreaded the dating atmosphere of having to listen to egotistical men who thought you would be in their beds by the end of the night and the awkwardness of fresh relationships.

Peter wasn’t a bad man, he wasn’t attentive or romantic as Disney Prince, but you honestly didn’t think that anybody would ever be like that in the era of Tinder and PornHub.

You had started explaining him the details as you moved around the house and Peter sat uncomfortably onto the sofa, but you didn’t notice it, mumbling about your new job as a curator in some kind of private royal galleries of a Russian prince.

He apparently wanted to open some place of his enormous mansion to expose some family ‘heirlooms’ on special occasions and wanted somebody who would arrange it perfectly and create a proper exhibition.

“… I just have a month to get myself ready” you had mumbled, finally looking at Peter, as you moved closer to him “… I know that this is going to take a toll on our relationship, but… I just… this is a great chance for me!”.

“Babe, I am happy for you” he had tried to smirk lightly, but it hadn’t come out as nothing more than a worried frown and you had expected some comment about how far Russia was and how the two months would have been tough and… “… I think we need to talk”.

You had almost chocked on your own breath, knowing all too well that such a comment was made only in couple who was breaking up and, as Peter distanced himself from you, you realized you were that couple.

“I know that you are worried about Russia… but I have been trying to…”.

“It isn’t simply Russia” he replied, his face moved in a convinced pout, as if nothing you might have said would change his opinion “… it’s just… I have just felt like I am wasting myself here”.

Hadn’t you been so shocked you would have gladly punched him in the face for being just an asshole.

“… you are not my true love, we aren’t each other’s soulmate” and again, without the shock effect, you would have gladly told him that it was why your relationship worked, it was what both you had searched when you had gotten together “… this is not what I want in my life, I want to find true love”.

And as he went on with his ‘I am a free man’ speech, you had just looked at him confused: nothing had given you the notion that you were in a crisis, although maybe you had had to start from the fact that you had never acted as a couple, not putting enough effort and not expecting it.

Maybe, maybe… Peter was right, you had to find your own true love.

And that illusion had lasted for an entire week of crying and self-esteem issues, till you had found Peter on Instagram with his new girlfriend: a tall blonde who looked like the twin of Taylor Swift, which made it extremely difficult for you to hate ‘the tall giraffe’, as you had tried to call her.

But again, each time you saw her stories she was either baking cookies for less-fortunate-kids or writing feminist magazines, which made you question how the freaking hell she had ended up with Peter.

You had almost been glad when you had had to move to Russia, the entire situation there was completely different from and more relaxed from the one back home.

Your friends after your break-up had been low key distant and the sole ways they had tried to comfort you was either to get you to bars or clubs to get you a rebound or presenting you new guys for you to date.

In Russia you hadn’t much to do except work and home, since the mansion you worked in was pretty away from the small apartment you had gotten for your staying of three months and it would take you at least an hour to arrive there.

Also the cold weather had almost killed you on your first week, which made you uneasy to go out, although Cristina, your collaborator at the mansion, tried to desperately get you out, but at least she didn’t push out desperate dudes onto you.

‘We are in Russia, Cristina’ you always protested, as she grabbed you and tried to teach you how to ‘rumba’.

‘But you have a proper Latina in front of you!’ she always replied, talking about how she would dance all night back in Barcelona, telling you should visit her just to do that, once you finished working there.

Cristina was honestly another thing for which you were thankful for, although her cheery personality would bump with your most reserved one sometimes, you honestly thought that she helped you to try to keep a positive outlook in life.

And then there was Oleg, your boss.

You hadn’t seen him when you had arrived, being introduced in the job by Cristina who had arrived a month before you in order to set up and bring some documents and paintings from Madrid, and the only inhabitants of the huge mansion were the staff, alongside a governess and Oleg’s nephew, Igor, who would sometimes visit you during your work, playing around with his puppets.

You had almost thought this was some kind ‘Tun of the Shrew’ shit, but then one day, arriving late, the first time in the four weeks you had been there, you had caught the boss in the exhibition hall.

You had bumped in with some coffee stolen from the kitchen since Cristina didn’t seem to work fully till she got at least a cup of that ‘heavenly beverage’ in her system.

But she hadn’t been in the studio, instead a tall man was there looking around at the still empty walls, since you had focused yourself the month prior onto catalogizing the entire exhibition.

You had almost been scared of the sudden appearance, but the man was as handsome as not many men around there, definitely looking the part of the ‘last Romanoff’, with his piercing eyes and mainly features on a perfect face.

And then he had spoken.

‘Is that coffee? Because I just came back from a twelve hours flight and the one there was shit’.

You had immediately pushed forward the cup, almost as a peace offering.

“… oh you must be the curator, the American one” he had mumbled, after he had almost burned his tongue on the coffee “… I do think that you can already realize that I am prince Oleg, although I hate with all my heart the title, just Oleg around the manor”.

“… (Y/N)” you had been simply able to mumble, looking at him, the way he moved so at ease and confident that got a light shiver of definitely-not-cold, running through you.

“Beautiful name” and the look that he had sent to your body had meant that he wasn’t talking only about your name, although you were wearing one of your least flattering sweater and a pair of deformed jeans which did nothing for your inexistent figure “… shouldn’t you be already putting up the pictures and paintings?”.

And then you had started to rumble everything you knew to the point that Oleg had smiled, and gently touching one of your shoulder he had mumbled.

‘Slower, dorogaya” he had joked softly, giving you a smile that had rendered you speechless.

You had almost been grateful that Cristina had arrived a few minutes later, processing to steal Oleg’s attention from you, since they were old friends from what she had told you and that is why Oleg had chosen her and trusted her for this exhibition.

But still… you couldn’t help but envy lightly the attention that was poured onto your colleague, although you knew it was stupid to be jealous of her.

Oleg’s visits had become more frequent: he was a bit of a control freak which made you put your best into this job, although you had to admit that you loved it with all your heart, it was something that made you feel well about yourself and your abilities.

It certainly helped with your awful self-esteem, since after the break up it had been under your feet.

And if you ignored Oleg’s search for perfection and his outbursts of rage (which weren’t against you, most of them happened against his brothers) he was actually quite the nice boss, and even more an handsome man whose simple smirk got your heart to jump through climbs.

You had a superficial knowledge of each other, mostly when he would stay a bit with you to keep you company as you checked through catalogues and new ideas, asking you questions about your work and the best part was when he would light up as you told him something that got quite the impression on him.

Almost as if he was trying to understand what you said.

Which was something that Peter had never done with you.

It flattered you.

And his petnames made you feel things.

Kitska, Zaika, Malishka and Kroshka and many more that got you more and more interested into learning Russian, at least to know what they would mean, but they still got you to feel heavy and bothered as he pronounced them, smirking at you and licking his lips.

You still remembered after a particular rough day, when you had chosen the setting of the paintings, he had come behind you, his breath gently tickling your ear, as he grabbed lightly onto your waist, leaving a slight pat on it.

“Good job, Krasotka”.

And right after you had come home that day, barely greeting your Swedish roommate, you had moved in your room, gotten into nothing but your panties and teased yourself softly at the repetition of that soft voice, completely untangling the block you had been having after the break up.

Sex with Peter wasn’t exactly amazing, barely the sparks of the things you could do on your own, but after your break up you hadn’t just felt either sexy or enough aroused to think about sex, but Gosh if you hadn’t been able to slip your finger between your thighs desperately and over and over, that night.

Till the shame of having just gotten off thinking your boss had taken over you and masturbation had been even more difficult, alongside watching Oleg in the eyes.

That night Cristina had left you early, she had a date and left work early, as Oleg had walked in for his daily check, finding finally all the walls set up, since you had only two weeks till the exhibition went public, and your work would be over.

Which you would be dreading, not solely because that job was one of the best you had ever had, but also and most importantly you would be missing  the people: Cristina, small Igor who would try to distract you to get you to play with him and Oleg.

Before going off Cristina had winked your way, making sure that the door of your work-room was closed behind you.

‘I am not there to chaperone you, so don’t let Oleg win you over with that wicked tongue of his…’ she had joked softly, as you blushed and tried to deny her insinuations “… oh c’mon, you always blush when he comes here, and he has a slight… fixation on your body’.

‘Stop joking around, Cristina’ you had tried to laugh it off, but the ‘caliente’ girl had just sent you a meaningful look, smirking softly as she came closer, mirroring the way Oleg preferred to talk with you: one hand onto your waist and his breath on your ear.

He definitely didn’t do it with Cristina.

‘… he might like you more than you think, sweet girl, and I’ll be very pissed if you can walk tomorrow’ you had blushed, almost burning your face as you tried to intimidate her into shutting up ‘… don’t tell me that you didn’t notice the way his eyes stay glued to your ass when you lowered your body to get the painting folders yesterday’.

‘Men like Oleg don’t go out with girls like me’ you had muttered between gritted teeth.

You had barely landed a Peter, an Oleg… Gosh… you couldn’t even fathom why he liked teasing you so much.

‘Oh sweetie…’ had replied Cristina as she got away from you ‘… you have no idea what men like Oleg want till they ask you’.

And you couldn’t help but work the rest of the time with a worsening blush, even being startled as Oleg walked in with coffee in his hands, simply wearing house clothes, which for him meant a black turtleneck that probably was worth half your apartment, and loose sweatpants that weren’t loose in the right place.

You had taken a small peak when he was distracted.

And Gosh… since then you had been scared and horny at the same time.

The ‘don’t masturbate on your boss’ rule certainly didn’t do anything for your thoughts.

“Hey, it’s just me, Oleg!” he laughed, pushing the coffee mug next to you “… no murder ghost, we don’t have any of those here… I think”.

“That’s reassuring” you shot back, grabbing the mug and drinking a big gulp of it, to calm your nerves “… no wife hidden in the attic, Mr. Rochester?”.

“Just a crazy wife, but sadly I don’t own an attic” he blurted out and you couldn’t help but be a bit taken aback by the knowledge that he was married.

You had gotten off not only to your boss but also to a married man.

You were so going to hell.

“… but let’s just say that she isn’t my wife anymore, even worse than ‘Jane Eyre’ “ he mumbled lightly, making you let out a breath of relief “… we split up six months ago, but we had stopped being lovers a long time before that, it was… complex”.

“I am sorry to hear that” you muttered softly as you calmed yourself, seeing as much as that little confession had impacted onto Oleg who looked like he was breaking himself apart, keeping his gaze onto his hands to avoid yours.

“But I hadn’t come here to talk about this sad stuff…” he mumbled, something softer settling in his eyes as his gaze came onto you “… I wanted to actually invite to dine here, since we have both been left alone, Cristina is out on a date and my brother Dir brought Igor to the cinema, and the staff took an holiday, so…”.

You couldn’t help but be a bit confused and shocked by the invite, unsure whether it would have been unprofessional to accept it or rude to reject it.

“It would be amazing, but I have to go home before it is dark, even more because there isn’t Cristina with me… so…” you tried to be polite, finding a rightful excuse but before you could finish your ramblings, Oleg stopped you, again touching your shoulder as he moved forward.

“That’s why I wanted to ask you to stay, actually, kitska” he replied softly “You could sleep here at the manor for one night, if you don’t have anything better to do, obviously. So, you wouldn’t have to go back all alone…”.

The entire proposal was also rightful, if you thought that you were uneasy to walk alone at night, but you still couldn’t shake off the feeling that you were trespassing some boundaries.

“Ahem…” you stalled and Oleg went a step further, destroying any boundary you might have set for yourself, taking your hands in his.

They seemed so small in his hold, rough and definitely hands that worked their way to the success, contrasting strongly with his ‘prince’ image.

You almost wanted to know what they would feel elsewhere.

“… c’mon, zaika! Don’t leave me with the ghosts!” he mumbled, faking a pleading tone which got you to blush under the intensity of his gaze, a dominant one that made you blush roughly.

“You said there weren’t ghosts!” you tried to shift the attention, knowing that the decision didn’t belong to you anymore.

“… that I know of…” he replied with a devious smirk “… pretty please”.

“Just because you asked so nicely…” you muttered back and Oleg almost jumped onto you in an hug that made you blush and tremble and you were quick to push him away lightly “… I just need to do a small shower before, everything, if you don’t mind”.

“Oh no please, don’t, the stench might scare off the ghosts” and you lightly kicked him in the shins.

He couldn’t talk to you like that, whether he was your boss or not.

“That wasn’t nice” you replied, as he giggled lightly, grabbing one of your hand and again annulling the distance, he brought you closer, kissing the back of it with a warmth that made you red all over your face.

“… forgive me please, my lady” he mumbled, and you were again quick to push away your hand from his hold, aware that this was slowly taking a turn you didn’t know if you were ready for “… I am going to get the room ready, now, till a few of the staff are still here”.

“Thank you”.

And now you were just having an existential crisis, about what it meant for your hot boss to ask you out to dinner…

---

You had never been this grateful for the dress you had packed for work.

Once Cristina had dumped an entire pot of red paint on your clothes which had been rather uncomfortable to stay in, mostly for the stares of the people on the bus on the way back home.

Hence you had started to pack a change of clothes to work, something you wouldn’t feel the need to wear any day and something that was easy to smuggle in your bag, such as a small dress and stocking.

Nothing glamorous or such, only a simple maroon dress with an high neck and an asymmetric cut to the hem of the skirt and although it was no ‘little black dress’ or some expensive gala elegance, it fell just right onto your body, highlighting your figure in a flattering but shy way.

Sadly, you hadn’t brought also your make-up bag, since you didn’t wear it at work, but you had been able to style your hair properly in order for them to be up in an elegant but effortless updo.

Looking yourself in the vintage mirror, you didn’t feel bad about the entire ensemble, it even made you smile, when you hadn’t been able to properly look at your body in months.

You exited the room and moved towards the stairs since the mansion had the rooms on the first floor and the dining room at the ground floor.

And as you were appearing on top of the stairs, Oleg appeared at their bottom, and he looked at you stuck in his position as you moved down praying not to stumble, suddenly at unease without your working coat to shield you from painting and dust and… more importantly, men’s gazes.

Such as Oleg’s.

As you were on the last step, he quickly moved onto you to help you, offering you his hands.

“… I was going to check on you” he said breathless, before he calmed himself reappearing relaxed “… to see if the ghosts had stolen you away”.

“Ah no just enjoying your warm shower, this weather is simply not for me” you replied softly, trying not to give too much thought at the fact that Oleg kept your hand in his, lowering it by his side.

“… there are ways to warm up” he joked, before he gently pushed you behind him in the dining room, the smaller one that the staff used, which was warmer and more intimate, definitely making you blush as Oleg left your hand when you sat down, him in front of you, the innuendo in his world badly hidden “… like warm food! I got the staff to prepare you some special meals, just before they left, hope you’ll like them”.

“They were very gracious” you mumbled softly, your smile faltering a bit due to the fact that although Oleg had all that flirty attitude towards you, it would just end up in a more friendly conversation.

You couldn’t help but call the entire thing ‘mixed signals’.

“Not as much as you” he replied, sending you a small look from the side of his eye “… you honestly look gorgeous in that dress, should wear them more often”.

The suggestion made you dizzy, and you hadn’t even come close to the wine, which was a bad sign.

“… I don’t have a lot… of occasions to wear them” you mumbled “… I prefer my warm and comfy sweaters, wouldn’t want catch a cold so close to the end of the exhibition”.

“Oh no talk of the exhibition, tonight!” he made you promise, lightly raising his hand from the table to settle it onto your thigh, the upper part of it in a move too bold for him “… let’s talk about anything else, please, just do like if I was Cristina”.

And you had erupted with laughter, trying to imagine the burly man as your Latina friend.

A small chihuahua with teeth and a pendant for raggaeton.

“… ok just like a friend, not simply Cristina” he admitted softly, as you smirked lightly “… got anyone waiting for you at home?”.

You couldn’t help but notice a tone of investigation in his question but played coy and gave him the truth.

Nothing would have changed if you had lied.

“… no one, except my mom” you mumbled softly, twirling the wine inside of your glass “…and my friends, but I am secretly happy to get away from them”.

“No boyfriend?” now Oleg’s tone was definitely more interested than proper, as he avoided looking at you and ate his meal, pouring himself another glass of wine and filling yours, although you had barely finished your first “… a girl like you might have not only a boyfriend but a lover at home”.

Although it was a joke, there was some kind of bitterness to it.

“I had one” you muttered softly, again taking a quick drink from your glass, although you wanted to dunk the entire bottle “… we split up before I had to go to Russia, apparently ‘I wasn’t his true love’ “.

You expected pity, maybe agreement with him, since a good half of your friends had stood by his side.

Not the way Oleg looked almost hurt, as if he had put himself in your shoes.

Or maybe he had been in them.

“… according to my ex-wife, I started neglecting her, and we had married too young to know what we truly wanted… all the passion burned out… yadda yadda yadda…” his immediate reaction was to let out a bit of that rage in his own work, against his competition, almost as if he used it not to break down “… all shitty excuses for cowards who can’t face their own flaws”.

“Oh no, believe me… in this case, he had a few rights” you had mumbled, immediately feeling all your insecurities coming crashing down “… there is obviously something wrong with me”.

Because you weren’t a tall giraffe who baked for poorer kids and wrote feminist articles.

You couldn’t be it ever in your life.

You were simply a clumsy art curator, with a kink for having everything under control and comfy sweaters.

You weren’t the type of girl who was interesting or gentle or beautiful…

“Nothing is wrong with you, malishka” now Oleg’s hand squeezed lightly your thigh under your table “… you are smart, sweet and fucking beautiful, and if that Сволочь didn’t see it, then it’s his fucking problem. He is the one who has… everything wrong”.

Meanwhile all this happened Oleg’s face had shifted to meet yours and his eyes were so strongly set onto you that they made you shiver, almost in fear.

Not of him, but of the intensity, with the worry of not deserving his words.

“… I don’t… “ you didn’t know what to say, but as Oleg moved closer taking his hand in his free one, you felt like nothing had to be said “… it’ll take me a bit of time to feel like what you said is true… but thank you… really”.

“I just hope you’d believe me, right on the spot” his voice had a nostalgic tone that froze you on the spot, as he pinned you again with his pretty eyes “… you deserve to be showered with compliments, every day, (Y/N)”.

“Maybe I should stay more, since you are so lenient on giving them” you teased him, moving away the attention from yourself, suddenly the air was too heavy, threaded with muttered whispers and bad memories.

“… if that is all you want to, stay here all you want” he had softly leaned back and the turtleneck had tightened over his muscles as they shifted under the black fabric, and you couldn’t help but feel your body warm up at the sole thought, as you mimicked his position “…I think that I’ll gladly gave you any compliment you want, kisa”.

Gosh, that breathy tone, almost a note higher than a moan…

It made you feel things.

“… flatterer” you shot back, lightly kicking his shin with your feet and Oleg smirked, downing another glass that shadowed his smile.

“Just for the pretty ladies”.

The entire night passed with you finishing half a bottle of expensive red wine, in an exchange that seemed a move stuck between ‘will they or won’t they’, in something that dragged things to be hot but still hazed and confused.

The wine had certainly made you lose all your inhibitions, and you were currently onto Oleg soft sofa, a vintage piece which was too big for two lovers, and too small for two friends, to the point where you were sat on your knees, the dress stretching a bit, in a way that made you uncaring, and Oleg was next to you, not directly touching you, but his arm was stretched over the back of the sofa, in ‘an almost hug’.

“… oh c’mon don’t tell me that you seriously fell onto your ass the first time you tried skating” you laughed out loud, as Oleg faced away with a smirk on his face “… you are a shame for your nation for sure!”.

Oleg shifted quickly position, a bit too quickly for your hazed sense, lightly pushing an hand over your mouth, in a way that made you open your eyes immediately at that gesture, as his hands moved quickly from simply hovering over your mouth to gently trace your lips, something that made you follow them as they retreated from your body, pushing it forward and arching it towards him.

“… don’t scream my secrets out to everyone” he retorted, lightly falling back on his seat as you, lightly closer to him.

“Or?” you shot back, a wicked smile of teasing on your face, his touch having uncovered something wicked in you.

“… or I’ll have to shut you up, kisa”.

“You always call me those strange names and I don’t understand what you mean half of the time” your tongue was now definitely loose.

“I just called you… ‘kitten’… I think it is the proper meaning in your own tongue”.

And as your chatting spirit had appeared it immediately disappeared at the knowledge of that.

You had known that they were term of endearment, but ‘kitten’ sounded so sexual.

As Oleg’s behavior.

You choked on your own saliva and a situation of stall appeared between you two, as you felt an awkward silence falling onto you.

You were frozen under the possible fear of what a move from you might entail, although Oleg’s teasing had left you hot and bothered, enough to make you feel like you could just move forward and kiss him to end all that waiting.

But what if it went wrong?

What if he simply didn’t want you like this, although he had said all those sweet things?

And the touching that had inflamed what was between your thighs, maybe was just normal for him.

Different cultures, different reactions.

And then he did something that was common to both your culture: he kissed you.

He leaned in, almost impatient, pressing harshly his lips onto yours, with a force that left you aching desperately.

Almost as desperate was his grip onto your hands, as he pinned them onto your lap.

Peter had always touched you so distractedly as if you could have been anybody under his hands, but Oleg had a flame in the way he deepened the kiss, making you open your mouth, that would have been almost too violent, hadn’t you been aching for him so desperately.

As you both lost your breath, you lightly distanced yourself from him to take again your breath, turning your head not to show Oleg the deep shade of red on your cheeks, due to embarrassment and your lost breath, as you tried to collect yourself.

Any dizziness from the wine gone and replaced by your desperate need for Oleg.

“Did I scare you, kroshka” his gaze was burning into you, daring you to turn back and face him.

“… I just need to take…” you tried to calm yourself with a small smile “… a breath”.

“I didn’t mean to come onto you this strong” his voice was seriously worried and as you turned lightly, looking at his hands, he seemed to be stopping himself from touching you again “… you must think I am a Мудак…”.

“I am not… I can do my own decisions” you retorted, not wanting to be made feel like a breakable good, because you weren’t in any shape or form, and even if you couldn’t stop the contrasting feelings in the pit of your stomach, you didn’t want to go back to that insecurity.

Oleg’s kiss had ignited something in you, that brought you to feel desperate and bothered.

You didn’t feel like going back to the vulnerable state you had always been, when Oleg treated you like his most beloved possession, with desperation in his eyes

“Don’t try to fix me, I’m not broken” you spoke your words slowly, to make them more meaningful as you inched closer, till you were right onto his laps, your hands cornering his face, as they set on his shoulder to steady yourself, your lips coming closer “… don’t worry, I am a big girl and I know what I am getting into”.

And you were the one who initiated the kiss, it was more teasing and softer as you smashed your lips together, biting lightly at first his upper lip, before delving into the bottom one, as he tried to get some control of the kiss, slipping his tongue in your open mouth, but you immediately closed it, distancing yourself quickly, with a smirk on her face.

And then you did it all the same, stopping every time Oleg tried to control it, in a way that was making him grow restless between you, as the atmosphere moved to a more tender and relaxed one, your teasing giggles making Oleg smirk into your mouth, although his hands wandered, gently caressing your back, and then moving slower and slower…

“… what do you say we move this to my bedroom?” he suggested, wiggling his eyebrow at you as he pushed you closer to him, with his hand onto your back.

And although the kisses had broken a few of your insecurities, now you couldn’t help but doubt the professionality of it; what would have happened if he wanted simply a night of sex?

What if he was disappointed and you had to see him around?

You tensed against him at all those thoughts, even more at the realization that suddenly you wanted more than sex, although you weren’t sure of Oleg’s opinion.

Which was definitely not a good idea.

“What is troubling you, kisa?” he asked again softly, his eyes searching yours as he adjusted your hair behind your ears, pushing a soft kiss on the exposed skin, making you tremble lightly, melting under his attentive touch.

“… you are my boss…” you mumbled voicing your inner conflict, avoiding his eyes as you let yourself lean in further in his kisses “… wouldn’t this… ahem… be unprofessional”.

“If this is up to me…” he had a devilish smirk that made you tighten the grip onto your thighs, splayed on him “… I don’t think this is unprofessional, but I may be a bit egoistical, since I have been pretty in love with that body and mind of yours, since I first saw you”.

Had he seriously said ‘love’?

“What if… things are awkward?” because you couldn’t envision a bright side of this without a dark one.

“Then you are here only for two more weeks, and then I’ll disappear from your life” his voice had a nostalgic tone that made you caress his handsome face, starting from that strong jaw that tried to form a small smile “… but believe me, I don’t disappoint ladies, I never have”:

You giggled, a bit comforted by his words, and too far gone behind his charms to do anything more than nod softly and let him softly raise you from the sofa as you nodded against him.

“… then maybe you should show me those skills ‘that never disappoint ladies’ “.

“Your word my command, printsessa”.

And that’s how you ended onto Oleg’s antique bed, still comfortable enough as Oleg pushed you onto, your back arched against him, rutting like an animal against his growing erection, the size of it already impressive, brushing against you through his sweatpants.

He was still dressed, but you had already discarded your dress, which he had thrown out carelessly once you were back on your feet on the threshold of his bedroom, barely giving you the time to look around as he gripped onto your thighs, raising you as you giggled.

Then your stockings had been quickly discarded, being ripped off your body.

You had almost squealed in shocks as you fell onto the bed, completely losing yourself in Oleg’s savage gaze, as you pushed him playfully.

“Ripping my clothes won’t get you any points, prince!” you shot back, and his hand simply lowered itself cupping your sex, making you smirk lightly, as he looked at you smugly.

“… then why are you wet?” and he brushed his fingers a few times more onto your clothed core “… should I assume that this is the outcome you had hoped for tonight? Your matching bra and panties say so to me, at least”.

“No, you just got lucky” you retorted softly, wanting to knock down his ego a few notches

Although it seemed impossible.

Your bra had been discarded with much more gentleness, the man unhooking it expertly with just one hand, meanwhile the other already gripped one breast softly, as he mouthed sweet loves bites and kisses onto your neck.

He groped you with his big hands, rolling his nipples against his palms in a rough motion that made you screech softly as his mouth caught yours again, pulling your hair back to get the full control of the kiss.

You weren’t able to deny him or tease him as you had done on the sofa.

“… I think that I got lucky from the minute I saw you in that awful hall, Gosh the sight of these tits accompanied my dreams for quite a few nights”.

You were almost relieved to know you hadn’t been the only one to dream about this.

Although you weren’t going to tell the man, his ego almost as big as…

His erection brushed through your barely clad core and you ate up a moan, biting down onto Oleg’s lower lip in an attempt to calm your feverish body, which instead continued to follow him desperately, as he realized the soaking situation down there.

Your panties doing not much to hide it.

And even less as he slipped them, ripping them off.

“You owe me a new pair”.

“I prefer the thought of you without them, so that I can pull you in the first hallway and make you mine” he muttered and then his attention shifted, something being ignited in his belly by your own desperation.

“… and what about the others?” you teased him as he moved to gently kiss his way down your body, stopping at your breasts to lavish them, almost torturing them since they were oversensitive from his hand, but you didn’t mind, and shifted one leg lightly to the side, a bit pushing it to your side, to let him feast his eyes onto the masterpiece between your legs “… what if they see me without panties?”.

His grip onto your hands, immediately froze you and made you smirk as you understood you had hit a sore spot, and slowly Oleg came face to face with you.

“Then we would have a problem” he smirked, but his eyes held a dangerous tone to his words, as he softly tapped at your thigh to make you focus and he lightly dragged the back of his hand against the soft expanse of your inner thigh “… because I don’t like others tampering with what is mine”.

“Am I yours?” you replied, playing a dangerous game with the man but true interest flashed in his eyes.

“… yes you are, dorogaya” he smirked softly, before he dove against your thigh pressing a kiss on the soft expanse, and right when you were relaxing he bit onto the skin, making you almost yelp at the surprise “… and believe me you’ll know by the end of the night”.

“Aren’t you pretentious, prince?” you shot back, teasingly “… always in need of something to stroke your big ego?”.

“Would you prefer to do the stroking?” he replied, almost purring, but didn’t give you any breath to reply as he dove from your thigh onto your wet heat, darting a soft kiss that stole your breath, as you kept it in your lungs, waiting for his next move.

And his hand joined his tongue on your sex in a delicious teasing that showed you shouldn’t have played around with this man: he was truly dangerous, as he withhold you with the gentlest of touches and a desperation that made you almost arch violently against him.

“… not so powerful, kisa, when your nails are not sharpened” he joked with you, as he gently licked onto your pearl, his fingers dipping teasingly past your folds, making you adapt yourself around them, as you wetted them with your essence.

There was something so primal in your coupling with him that didn’t allow you to feel anything else than the moment.

No shame for screwing your boss, or insecurity for what Peter hadn’t seen in you.

You almost felt beautiful, worshipped under his attentive care.

And when he had enough of that he made you feel like a true woman.

He pushed you onto your hands and knees, something which surprised you quite a bit, since he had been teasing but mostly attentive and gentle, and in your previous sexual experiences you had never done it in any other way than missionary.

But you were under his spell.

And let him push his cock into you, as it penetrated you to a new angle.

Your folds engulfed him easily till half of his length, the lack of something bigger than your fingers making itself known to you as Oleg gently pressed his fingers down your clit to make you relax around him.

In a way he was gentle, completely contrasting with the vulgar position he was having you in.

But Gosh, as the pain and your tightness passed, you couldn’t help but love the way he pounded onto you, almost threatening to make you fall onto your back, as his touched yours and his hipbones, slapped your base ass, definitely red marks would be blooming on it, the following day.

You tried your best to hold yourself off on your own hands, but not only supporting your weight was tough with all the pleasure coursing through your body, but Oleg’s relentless rhythm made you dizzy, and you almost fell face first in the pillow.

The pillow almost suffocated you, till Oleg just caught you by your hair and pushed you to sit right onto his cock, his beard brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck, as another hand sneaked on your waist to keep you steady as his thrusts became slower but not less brutal.

But the angle he found hit your ‘special’ spot perfectly.

“Look at you, zaika” he mumbled darkly in your ear, as his grip tightened onto your waist, his fingers dug in the flesh “… not even able to keep your pretty body straight… I wonder what you are good for”.

“… you are fucking me, aren’t you” you were simply able to utter, as a particular thrust made you moan out loud.

“Just a little nice fucktoy, aren’t you zaika?” he repeated, his smirk kissing your ear, as he speeded up his rhythm “… something to fill with my seed and my cock all night, if I want to”.

The sole thought of it made you ooze pure wetness onto his cock, as you tightened your grip around it.

“Not even able to answer me now, shluha”.

The reply seemed definitely less nice than all the petnames but it didn’t fail to arouse you any less.

“… I wonder how much it will take you to come…” he smirked softly, against you, cooing teasingly in your ear “… definitely not much with the way you are squee… Gosh… squeezing me”.

And it didn’t take you long indeed, the angle, the feeling of Oleg’s hands on you and the desperation in your entire body, making it impossible for you to stop the magical release that washed over you as you sank down onto him, completely, stilling as you rode the wave of the crashing emotion going through your body.

You were shaking so terribly that you weren’t sure whether an earthquake was going through your body or if it was your body creating it.

Oleg guided you through it softly, slower thrusts as he pushed himself in and out of you, almost completely, making you feel each inch of his manhood, in a way that overstimulated you, as you tried to grip him to keep him in you, in a desperate attempt to have more of him.

But he exited you and pushed you to roll onto your back, completely splayed against him, meanwhile he looked as composed as ever, his cock simply out of his boxers and pants, in a way that made you feel vulnerable and exposed.

It made you wet again for him.

Once he was out of you, he chased his own high with his hand, eventually coming onto your stomach as it slowly dropped onto your small Venus mount with a slow movement that made you clench your stomach under the different temperatures of his warm seed and your cold stomach, sweaty and suddenly exposed to the coldness of the room.

Oleg fell next to you ungracefully, but he sneaked a quick hand onto your stomach, playing with his cum, before he propped himself onto one elbow to look at you, a sweaty mess you were sure, but you weren’t able to deny him as he pushed his messy fingers past your mouth, looking at you as you tasted him.

Salty and warm it coated your mouth in a way that rendered your lips sticky and filled you as his cock had done with your cunt.

You wanted to taste him.

But you also needed a breather, as Oleg sank back down the bed, and you just tried to look out towards the opposite side, knowing that if you had taken a look at him right now, everything would have come crashing down.

You almost expected him to kick you out.

Maybe ask for another round, as he gently shifted away from the bed leaving you cold and unattended.

Gosh you should have definitely gone away.

And you were collecting your dress and your bra when he came back a soft towel in his hand and he had changed his sweatpants.

Probably because his previous ones were stained with your wetness.

You were unable to stare at him as he appeared in your vision.

“… already leaving, zaika?” he seemed almost… disappointed.

“I don’t think that I can immediately go another around” you replied, trying to avoid his gaze as he quickly settled onto the bed, the warm towel being moved onto your stomach to collect his sticky seed, for which you were grateful.

“… then we can cuddle, malishka” he replied as if it was obvious and he helped you settle down the covers, almost as a small child, a bit uneasy on your still-trembling legs, to which he shot a smug smirk.

“… don’t flatter yourself, I just haven’t had dick in a pretty long time” you told him, as you slapped his chest, just for him to grab tightly your hand and bring it to his lips.

“Then I do think that you might need more convincing”.

---

Please don’t judge my bad attempt with the Russian language!

Here are, by the way the meaning of each word:

Malishka=Babygirl.

Krasotka=Gorgeous.

Printsessa=Princess.

Dorogaya=Dear.

Zaika=Bunny.

Kroshka=Little One.

Kiska/KIsa=Kitten.

Сволочь=Asshole.

Мудак=Prick.

Shluha=BItch/Whore.

 @ rainycloudstarlight @alyssa23145678910​ @ squids-for-knees @youbloodymadgenius​ @queenboosha​ @barnzbucky​ @ itsleeshanotlouise @ confusedgirlyy @the--insignificant--one​ @roury12​ @justsomestuffiguessman​

[thesculptedflower]

Blue Velvet / Chapter 6

Chapter 6

’’Are you okay?’’ 

Ed was now wide awake, all his attention on making sure Y/N was unharmed. Both physically and mentally. He searched her face for answers, trying to see behind the wall she had built around her. Y/N’s eyes were watering, but he saw how badly she tried to hold the tears from falling. His heart was aching for her. 

’’An intruder broke in to the manor, a gang member from Street Demonz.’’ She explained quietly, watching her hands that were intertwined with Ed’s. He drew small circles on her skin with his thumb. Recalling the events of the last hours got more painful with every word, the tears threatening to escape.

’’He came in so quietly, killed all Oswald’s guards. I guess he was looking for me, but I was hiding in the bathroom. When Oswald wouldn’t tell him where I was, he took my violin and,’’ A tear fell down her cheek. Ed noticed it immediately, his eyes never leaving her face. He lifted his other hand to place it on her cheek, wiping away the tear. She leaned softly to his hand.

’’and he tossed it to the fireplace.’’

’’I’m so sorry.’’ Ed whispered, pulling her to his lap so he could hold her closer for the rest of the story. He held her head against his shoulder, slowly brushing his fingers trough her hair to help her calm down. Y/N leaned fully into his embrace, holding her hands against his chest. 

’’I was so angry. He was smiling like a maniac and I just couldn’t stop myself.’’ She continued. Ed could feel tears dropping to his shoulder. 

’’So I got out from the bathroom and shot him. Before that he called me a babe and a bitch and Oswald tried to stop me but I didn’t want to stop and I just wanted to kill him and -.’’ All the emotions were getting to her, making her speech fall all over the place. Ed moved her head to look at her. 

’’Hey, it’s okay. He deserved it. No need to feel bad about it.’’ He said, wiping the tears away from her cheeks. Her eyes were red from crying, but she didn’t look sad. Ed’s brown eyes radiated hope, hope for her to get better from this. To be the best version of herself after this. 

’’I’m not crying because I feel bad. I’m just scared.’’ She whispered, eyes glued to his. Ed lifted his eyebrows a little, not yet understanding what she meant.

’’I’m scared, because it felt good.’’ 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

They woke up in each others arms in the next morning. Her head on his shoulder, his arms around her. Sunlight lit Ed’s cozy apartment beautifully. Y/N felt like she was finally home. Events of last night still seemed like a nightmare, but she felt better. Ed didn’t turn her down, instead he embraced her. He was proud of her for standing up for herself, and for Oswald. And even if he didn’t dare to say it yet, he was excited about this new version of her. 

A text message broke the comfortable silence. 

’’Morning beautiful.’’ Ed said sleepily, pressing a soft kiss on top of her head. ’’How are you feeling?’’ Y/N rose to lean on her elbow, so she could look at him. Her other hand rested on Ed’s chest. ’’I think I’m better. Being here with you helps.’’ She smiled. It felt amazing to be like this with him, without the constant fear of getting caught. 

Ed reached for his phone to check the message. ’’It’s Oswald, he’s asking me to get over there asap.’’

And then she remembered what Oswald had told her. How he had fallen in love with Ed. Ed could see the change in her expression. She moved to sit on the edge of the bed, pulling one of Ed’s shirts on. It was big enough to almost cover her bottom. 

’’What’s wrong? Did you remember something?’’ Ed asked, sitting up on the bed, concerned about the sudden change in her demeanor. 

Y/N ran her hands through her hair and sighed. She had to tell him. 

’’Oswald loves you.’’ 

’’What?’’

’’He told me last night, before everything went to shit.’’

Y/N got up from the bed, now pacing around the room, biting her nails. Ed got up after her, stopping her to face him. 

’’Even if he does, it doesn’t matter. I love you.’’ It was the first time he said it to her. And she felt so happy, and so sad at the same time. ’’I love you too.’’ She said back, pressing herself against him. ’’But how can we ever tell him? It’ll break him.’’ 

Ed knew it too, Oswald wasn’t going to react well. When he wanted something, there wasn’t much that could change his mind. All three of them cared so deeply for each other, though Y/N and Ed in secret. 

They decided to keep their love hidden for a bit longer, until Oswald’s campaign was over. 

’’I should get over there, before he comes looking for me.’’ Ed said, brushing a strain of hair behind her ear. ’’You can stay here as long as you like.’’

Y/N pulled him closer to press a loving kiss on his lips, which he returned eagerly. ’’Or, you could text him that you’ll be there in an hour.’’ She said, looking up at him under her lashes and running a finger down his chest. She rose up to her tiptoes to whisper in his ear.

’’Take a shower with me.’’

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

On the days when Oswald and Ed were too busy with the campaign, Y/N would spend her time with Victor, on the shooting range. And boy, she was good.

’’I don’t know if I should be impressed or scared.’’ Victor said, amused after another round of perfect shots. Y/N smiled widely, clearly pleased with her skills. 

’’I want to be able to protect myself. And maybe do some other stuff.’’ She replied carefully, hoping that Victor would pick up the hint. He crossed his arms to his chest and smiled playfully. ’’You want to rob something?’’ 

She nodded eagerly, biting her lip softly. She knew how to steal little things here and there, but she was craving for more. 

’’Say, Victor, do you like weddings?’’

‘’Depends, am I marrying you?’’

‘’No you idiot, lets crash one.’’

The following days went in a blur and the election was getting closer and closer. Oswald was a nervous wreck for most of the time, fearing that the people of Gotham wouldn’t vote for him. He was even ready to fabricate the results by having Mr. Penn manipulate the votes, but Ed managed to talk him out of it. Which showed how much he trusted Ed, how much he actually listened to his advice. How much he loved him. 

Y/N had returned to the manor, and Oswald was finally able to breath a little better, knowing she was safe. She promised him that she was okay, better than okay even. Oswald knew her well enough to see how the night had changed her. She carried herself with more attitude, more powerfully. And he liked it, he could see her maybe becoming one of his partners in the future. All that time spent with Victor, on the range and on his jobs had molded her into a totally new person. And she loved it. The sad street musician who needed a personal bodyguard was long gone, and on her place was this strong woman who didn’t take anyone’s bullshit. Victor had even given her one of his guns, which she wore on a holster on her thigh. Oswald stayed far from committing any crimes while he’s campaign was still going, so he’d send her and Victor to handle any troubles that were coming his way. He even thought they were sleeping together, from Victor’s gun on her thigh, he wouldn’t give it to anyone. And Ed hated it. He wanted to show her off so badly, to be seen with her. 

And then came the night of the election. They all came together to wait for the results at Oswald’s manor. The mood was excited, everyone chatting around and enjoying the drinks and snacks that Olga had prepared. The manor was guarded all around, Oswald was nervous enough about the results, and he wanted to be sure that there wouldn’t be any disturbance tonight. 

’’You need to calm down, I’m sure you’ll win.’’ Y/N said happily, trying to ease Oswald’s nerves. From time to time, her eyes would find Ed’s from the crowd and he would already be staring at her.

’’How can you be so sure? Everyone hates me, I’m a freak and a-.’’ Oswald said before being interrupted by Ed’s loud voice.

’’The results are in!’’ He informed, taking his place in front of the crowd. Everyone was holding their breath, waiting for Ed to announce the results.

’’The new mayor of Gotham is… Mr. Oswald Cobblepot!’’ 

Everyone erupted in cheers and hurried to congratulate the new mayor. Oswald was beaming from happiness. He was so sure, he would lose. But Ed was right, the people did love him. He could only hope, that Ed would be one of those people.

’’See, it all worked out.’’ Y/N said, giving Oswald a hug. She felt so happy for him, but at the same time she was scared. Now that the election was over, they’d have to tell him about the relationship.

She excused herself and left for the kitchen to make herself another drink. All the counters were filled with different kind of bottles, some worth more than basic cars. Quietly humming a song, she made herself a mojito, when she was surprised by a very pleasant voice. 

’’Miss L/N, I hope you’re enjoying your evening.’’ Ed almost purred, leaning back against the counter next to her, his hat hooding his dark eyes. Y/N smiled mischievously, garnishing her drink with mint leaves. ’’I am, very much so, Mr. Nygma.’’ She replied with the same flirtatious energy. It was dangerous for sure, but the alcohol in both of their veins made them a little frisky. Playing like they didn’t know each other that well, added something they both liked to this game, it made them almost invisible, while being in plain sight.

’’Might I add, you’re looking ravishing tonight.’’ He kept going, edging closer to her, eyeing her body from head to toe. She was wearing a gorgeous, sparkling black cocktail dress that hugged her body just right. A soft blush rose to her cheeks. ’’Oh my, well thank you. You’re rather handsome yourself.’’ They were so spellbound in each other, they didn’t notice that they were being watched. Oswald had noticed that the both of them had vanished, so he went to look for them. Unfortunately for him, he found them in the one place he most dreaded. Together.

’’Shared between two, most often to woo. Sometimes hot and sometimes cold. The beginning of us all, young and old. What am I?’’ Ed riddled, brushing his gloved thumb over Y/N’s lower lip. Y/N lifted her hands to his chest, pretending to fix his tie and pulled him down to a passionate kiss. While Ed’s arms snaked around Y/N’s waist and her hands found his neck, Oswald’s heart broke.

[caffeinetheory]

There’s Gotta Be A Reason

Follow up to Everything Stays requested, well they got me to consider it, @mystery-5-5

this is Jason’s point of view, and he may seem a little ooc for him but i wanted a softer take, hopefully it will make sense, also sorry for the long wait, i kept putting off finishing it ‘cause i want to hopefully make something that’ll stand with the original

(I ended up skipping the last verse because i wanted to focus on Jason not Mari also if this is all over the place sorry, I’ve been working on and off with it and it was longer then I meant to make and took way longer, oops )

///

The bruises still lingered on his arms and the dried blood was still sticking to his skin. They were the only things Jason could feel at the moment, he was numb. Completely numb and barely knew his own name. Only one thing stayed in his mind untouched by the madness of the pit, loving bluebell eyes that seemed to hold the world to him and a soft voice drowned out by whatever had brought him back. 

There's gotta be a reason that I'm here on Earth

As memories slowly came back to him there was one constant, a girl. She was special to him, he knew that much but he couldn't place why for the life of him. Maybe she was the reason he was back, no that couldn’t be it. Talia made sure Jason knew he was theirs because he owed them from bringing him back.

But why was she the only thing he could remember, there has to be something. The distant memory of what must have been her laugh is sometimes the only thing keeping him sane.  Something in the back of his mind tells him he should hold back, but what was it?

Gotta be a reason for the dust and the dirt

Seeing the grave for the first time was jarring. He really did die didn’t he. Pain enveloped his mind as he tried to remember, but it hurt to much so he just let it go. There are more important matters at the moment anyway, like getting out from under their control. That was one thing he could never forget, he didn’t like being told what to do.

The changing of the seasons never changed my hurt

It must have been at least a year since he was brought back and he still under them. The plan was coming together, he’d run with their weapon. It was bad enough they were messing with his life but a CHILD! That wouldn’t stand. Another spring was coming, that was when he’d make his break. All that was left was to get the kid on board.

So what's it worth? What's it worth?

Saving Damian may have been a mistake, the kid was an absolute pain, but it felt like the right thing to do. Weird to think he could do the right thing but something told him that was what he should do.

Damian told him where to drop him off, a manor. It brought the pain in his head but he ran to the shadows before it could get worse. There was something important about the manor but it wasn’t the right time to figure it out.ashes of memories were becoming more frequent while he was in Gotham.

Worth another shot of whiskey and another sip of gin

Being passed out drunk was one of the only things keeping the pit’s madness under control, if you can even call it that. If he was drunk he couldn’t go out and fill the need to kill, be the Hood. Bottles littered the floor, the weapons he could run with strewn about on every surface there wasn’t a bottle. This wasn’t right but what else could he do, remembering hurt but something told him it would be worth the pain. 

Another drop of poison that is slowly sinking in

Was he ready though, that’s the question.

Downing the last of the whiskey in his shit apartment he made himself a drunken promise. This would change. Fight through the pain and go back to the manor, check on the kid, see if he can find out why it causes the pain that only happens when he is trying to remember the before.

If we're going down together, better take another hit

Dick was the one who found a lost Jason looking lost in the manor gardens. 

“Jay��”

“...Dickie”

The brothers broke down in each others arms. This started a practice between the two, every over day they would meet at a coffee shop and Dick would help him with his memories. It was slow and it hurt the older boy to see his little brother hurting so much but they made it work.

We won't be here forever, so let's make the best of it

It was a year and a half later he got to see Roy again. You couldn’t separate the for weeks afterwards. They helped one another, became a duo. What they did wasn’t exactly legal but when was being a vigilante ever legal. 

They were the fuck-ups but they worked. They did what they could to help when others wouldn’t. Roy helped with relapses and the intrusive thoughts, Jay could keep Roy grounded. Together they were the Outlaws, others would join them from time to time but it was something that was theirs.

Walking down to the burial ground

The day he finally saw his grave was a jarring one to say the least. It was the day everything finally fell into place. That laugh that could be heard when he was alone explained, the hard to control urge to mame clowns, and red crowbars making him uneasy. It all made sense, why that clown was still alive would always baffle him but that wasn’t his problem.

With a sad song in his brain

It also brought back the sweet voice in the back of his head. Always there but he could finally hear it again. Soft bliss like bells on a warm spring day. Pure comfort, he knew it went with the eyes, but no one could tell him who they belonged to. At first he thought it was Dick, but that wasn’t right, but who else had known him and been close to him?

General Cloud is an old man now

When he saw Bruce again with no masks in the way he didn’t know how to feel. There were a thousand questions going through his head, the loudest being why...why didn’t you do anything? At this point did it matter though, what’s done was done. It was clear he had gone through enough already, no wasn’t the time to stab an old wound… since when did I think about others like that?

But it feels like yesterday

Despite the open invitation to stay at the manor Jason avoided it as much as he could. The photos and halls bringing back what he assumed were memoires, memories hurt. It was a pain he wasn’t ready to quite fully face, that was until he saw the hidden frame. It's simple black outline was hard to miss in the library. It was with his favorite book, why his favorite book was a worn red leather bound book written entirely in French he wasn't sure but something told him it was more than what was contained on the yellowing pages. 

He was on the front lines, stranded on the beach

Memories from a gala not to long after he was adopted came flooding his head. Feeling lost because he was alone, Dick had classes and Jason was by himself in forein country. Baby pink and calm also flashed in his mind. There still wasn’t a clear face but she was real! He knew it! Walks throughout the city, along the Seine and thorough every back alley. She lead him to all her favorite places, showed him the lights that reminded him of the stars, showed him kindness when he felt alone. Was she the reason the madness wasn’t completely gripping him, but how could that be?

Crawling to his best friend, floating in the sea

Roy had found him thumbing through the yellowed pages seemingly lost in his own head. Roy saw the picture and things started to make sense, but for now he needed to take him back home. The next few weeks Jason wasn’t fully there, the memories were hitting him like a flood, sweeping him away. It was hard but he made himself swim, he pushed them back but not away. He still had a mission to attend to.

But he didn't make it, he still can't believe

Every Time he tried to remember now nothing new comes, he knows there is more. There has to be doesn’t there. This can’t be all, Jason Peter Todd knew there was more, what was the key to a lock he couldn’t find?

How arbitrary fate is, he says

Jason thought he had everything there was in his memories at this point, it had been at least 3 years since he died and more than a year since he was free from the League’s influence but her name always eluded him. The one time he tried to ask Dick they both got called away on something urgent and Dick would evade the question every time. Who was she and what had happened that her saying name was akin to saying the cursed words that would bring the devil himself to the living room?

There's gotta be a reason that I'm here on Earth

Something felt different as Red Hood took out the latest drug cartel with Arsenal, something he couldn’t put his finger on. It was a good different though, like something good was going to come his way soon. 

Gotta be a reason for the dust and the dirt

Visiting his grave still felt weird to Jason, but it was a place he could think clearly. No one bothered him there, it was just him and the old him. Something in the back of Jason’s head told him that the old him, old memories would finally be clear in the coming months. A single marigold laid on his grave as left, a small smile on his face as the gate closed behind him.

The changing of the seasons never changed my hurt

Spring came and went, so did most of the summer. Still nothing new has happened but Jason kept the positive thought in his head. He had made it this far, what was the point of giving up now. That didn’t mean tracing his scars to try and bring back more memories didn’t hurt when nothing came up, but at least Roy could always distract him.

So what's it worth? What's it worth?

Fall was about mid way through when Bruce had gotten a call from someone in the Watchtower, who he didn’t know but he could tell it wasn’t expected. Why would someone move to this godforsaken place, a Leaguer no less? Did they have a deathwish? 

Worth another shot of whiskey and another sip of gin

The anniversary of the Outlaws forming was quite the weekend bender, the whole family insisted he celebrated, kept him out of the area for some reason. Roy took him to Star City to get wasted, sure he was going clean but it was a special case, and maybe it hurt his family wanted him gone for awhile… he really thought that after all this time they didn’t see him as a problem kid anymore, that he had improved, at least he still had Roy by his side.

Another drop of poison that is slowly sinking in

The hangover the next day sucked ass, Roy and Jason could agree on that. But it got his mind off what his family didn’t want him to know about. 

If we're going down together, better take another hit

A few weeks later Jason got called to help with a case in Gotham. With everyone, which was weird with how they seemed to be trying to keep him from the city the last few weeks, but if his family needed him he would better. That’s what family was for after all wasn’t it?

We won't be here forever, so let's make the best of it

With Red Hood’s help the villain team up was taken care of quickly. Something told Jason to hang around for longer though, so he did. Taking up an old patrol route. The feeling came back, and for a reason he couldn’t explain it brought a smile to his lips.

There's gotta be a reason that I'm here on Earth

Jason had finished his patrol earlier than usual, he was one of the only ones out that night. He could hear voices from the living room, something told him he should go in but he couldn’t get himself too. What was this feeling? 

Then the voice that was always telling him how he mattered, how much they cared, the one that helped him, came through the ajar door like it was meant just for him. There was a sadness in it that made his heart break, she didn’t deserve to feel that sad. She was an angel and she deserves all the happiness in the world. 

Gotta be a reason for the dust and the dirt

Curiosity was getting the best of him, why was she here? As she talked about a chain he had an epiphany Marinette!!! Her name was Marinette, and with that everything fell into place. She was his light, his reason to fight even if he didn’t know it.

Something she said made him forget about the joy he felt, “I think that’s why I couldn’t let it be real, let him go… I always wanted to be by his side, with him through thick and thin.”

She still loved him? She didn’t know he was alive? How much pain had she been going through? He couldn’t catch his helmet before it hit the ground making everyone look his way, he was into much shock to care though, she was real and staring right to his soul. 

The changing of the seasons never changed my hurt

At first she was tense and ready to fight but Dick called his name and that was all it took for her to launch herself at him. Any punch he got her deserved...wait she was holding him like he would disappear if she let go. Tears were streaming down her cheeks and Mari just held him closer. Regaining his thoughts after the initial shock Jason returned the hug just as tight, “I’m here, I’m here and I’m not going anywhere,” he needed it just as much as she did. Lighty petting her hair as he helped calm her down, she was really in his arms again. 

How long had it been? Too long and she was there now, that's what mattered. He had a lot of time to make up for, and gosh darn he was going to.

So what's it worth? What's it worth?

They had both changed so much since they were in their teens but he could still see her beauty under all the scars, she maybe slightly worse for wear but she was still his Mari. the look she gave him looking into his eyes, he knew she could still she him in there, and even if she didn’t know it she was the reason. He had found his reason to live again. The calling was right, something good was going to happen eventually, and the wait was more than worth it.

Worth another shot of whiskey and another sip of gin

They spent the rest of the night together, talking and just being together. When Jason awoke with movement on his chest he was worried then seeing Mari he was at ease. She took his hand and lead him like a  puppy to the kitchen where they could eat breakfast. 

Eventually she had to go but they exchanged numbers and he was already planning a date. They had years of lost time to make up for and like hell he wouldn’t start as soon as he could. She was his light and he was going to keep that light close as much as he could.

Another drop of poison that is slowly sinking in

Seeing Mari sitting on the dock swinging her legs like when they would hang out in Paris brought a smile to Jason’s lips. She looked stunning in jeans and a red hoodie, a red that reminded him of his costume, she took off her headphones upon hearing him, a grin burst onto her lips when she saw him. She brought a warmth to his chest he never wanted to leave. Holding out a black helmet to the girl of his dreams she got on his bike holding him together then she needed to, Mari was having time time of her life as they speed down the docks at high speeds. She really was perfect.

If we're going down together, better take another hit

We won't be here forever, so let's make the best of it

When the night ended Jason made a promise to himself, and by the look in her baby blue eyes she did too, they would make this work. 

Life might be short but with you by my side it will all be worth it...

///

Finally finished and I hope the wait was worth it <3