#like i know he was a cop to clean up the department for a bit

[filthy-vigilante]

What are Dick's hobbies in Canon? What does he like to do outside of being Nightwing? I don't know to much about him beside his general personality.

[gemini-sensei]

Surgeon!Eli Moskowitz thoughts 🧑‍⚕️

He works as a pediatric surgeon specializing in plastics, like clefts and reconstruction. He works hard to make those situations for kids not so scary and always wears a smile so kids don't associate scars with scary situations or bad feelings like insecurity.

He also lets kids call him Dr. Eli.

Kids adore him and parents love him. He's great with everyone and gives everyone the best care and attention. No one gets special treatment but he does have a soft spot for the kids that come in with clefts.

He gets recommended so much he doesn't know what to do with all the families that come to see him. He often has to recommend other surgeons because his workload is a lot. He also travels sometimes for special cases where his expertise is needed. It's a lot but he loves the work.

He's doing a great job but then a new pediatrics doctor transfers to the hospital he works at. Things become a little complicated after that... at least in his personal life.

Reader is a phenomenal doctor and he's rather admiring of her work with kids. She was head of the peds department at her old job but gave it up for some reason that she won't disclose. That's okay, that's no one's business, so long as it doesn't interfere with her work, which it doesn't.

She and Eli see a lot of each other. They pass each other in the halls, give second opinions on cases, and eventually have lunch together. He likes her a little more than he thinks he should. But he can't help it. She's amazing.

It doesn't take long for them to start flirting with each other. Sometimes when they're just standing around, he puts his arm around her and feels up her pudge waist (away from childrens eyes ofc) and makes her giggle. All while keeping the childrens ward as happy and bright as possible.

And then she asks him to cover her patients for a few days while she's away. He doesn't ask questions and lets her be. There's no reason for him to snoop through her business. And then she's back and things are as if it didn't happen to begin with. She seems fine, so he doesn't ask.

Then they end a shift together and he drives her to her apartment. She invites him inside and they hook up, like they didn't see that coming. But it's in the morning that he learns what she's been hiding.

A brick comes through her window early in the morning, waking them up and she screams not knowing what's happened. Eli being Eli takes a protective stance and searches the house in nothing but his boxers. He finds the brick but nothing else and he thinks its just some pranksters or something, but she tells him no.

She admits that she's been going through divorce proceedings and just signed the papers those few days she was away. That was weeks ago but she tells Eli that her ex-husband is a bit obsessive. Even though he's the one who cheated and caused them to divorce. He's mostly upset she left and moved across the country to get away from their old life together. She makes it clear they were separated before she ever started talking to Eli romantically, but he isn't worried about that.

"I'm only worried about your safety," he tells her as they look at the brick and broken glass on the floor of her living room. "I don't have to tell you this, but if that would have hit you, it would have seriously hurt you."

She nods. "I know..."

They call the cops and make a report, but there isn't a lot that they can do now since it's so early and no one is around. She understands and they spend the day talking to cops, cleaning up glass, and covering up the window. They hardly have a relaxing day before they have to go in to work the next.

Despite what happened, Reader acts happy and smiley around her young patients. However, Eli can see she's not okay. And that behavior goes on for weeks as she has trouble sleeping in her apartment. He wants to do something about it, but what can he do?

He ends up staying at her apartment a lot more. They're unofficial but he doesn't care. He wants to be there in case her ex-husband or anyone else tries anything again. They don't. It seems to have been a one time thing, but he doesn't care. She tosses and turns in her sleep every night she's there and it gets to the point that she isn't getting any good sleep whatsoever. Not good for a doctor.

She's downing a double shot expresso one morning, rambling on about how she can't move because of the lease and she wouldn't even know where to go. Eli is with her, listening to her, being her person to lean on, when he suggests that she move in with him. She stops in her tracks and looks at him.

"Really?"

"Yeah, I mean, I pretty much spend every night with you already," he laughs.

She hugs him tight and kisses him, calling him, "My knight in shining doctor's coat."

He gets her out of her lease agreement and she doesn't even ask her apartment manager for her any money back. She just wants to get out of there. He even paid for the window to get fixed and that was enough for the apartment manager. They were on their way out and it was great.

They never really talk about what they are. They are just what they are. If co-workers or parents of patients perceive them as being together, they don't stop them. They don't mind it but they won't talk about it. Both are worried talking about it will ruin it. So neither of them talks about it. It isn't something that they have to talk about... until their chief asks them whether they're going to make it official for the hospital's records. Then they have to confront what they are and whether it's something worth putting a label on.

Spoiler alert: it totally is.

[violetmuses]

Collide - A. Aretas ❤️‍🔥

Title: Collide 

Fandom: “Bad Boys” Film Universe 

Character: Armando Aretas 

Pairing: Armando Aretas + Female Reader

Main Storyline: Joining the Miami Police Department leads to more than what's expected. @yeahnohoneybye

====

2024

“What's up, rookie?” Detective Mike Lowrey stepped forward as you entered this well-known precinct. 

“Stop it.” You laugh this morning while holding another Styrofoam cup. 

“He's joining the team today.” Lowrey didn't even mention names for you to notice the reference. 

Uh-oh. You thought. It's official. 

Handed an opportunity to cut down his time in prison, criminal Armando Aretas would team up with the AMMO squad. 

“I'm keeping my guard up.” You lifted your finger and walked away from Mike, working as a distraction. 

_____

“Be nice. She's a good person.” Mike's voice echoed again and you turned away from the desktop computer, nosey for a moment. 

Wearing black despite facing this heatwave, Armando Aretas showed up. 

Rolling both eyes, this man kept moving forward until he crossed the empty desk that's placed not too far away from you. 

Nothing. Silence. 

You still worked through concentration and remained grateful that awkward small talk hasn't begun yet. 

At least Dorn and Kelly know how to smile during the day. 

This strong yet pleasing cologne reached your nostrils and the fragrance didn't belong to Mike. 

Damn. You quietly lingered in Armando's direction. 

The important gun holster strapped around his waist, but he wore this gold necklace around his neck. 

Short dark hair took style for once as you remembered his mugshots. Even one decent mustache lined as Aretas shadowed this slight beard. 

Turning back near your computer, you knew better than to mess around. Those handsome looks fooled the world just to bring out danger. 

“Hey.” Armando greets you for the first time while accented English caught your attention. “You dropped this pen.” 

“Oh, thanks.” You nodded and slid the pen back into place on your desk, typing more like nothing happened. 

Armando pulled the swivel chair away from his own desk and turned that seat backwards to sit again, resting his arms over while looking at you. 

“What's your name again?” He bit his lip, trying to capture your interest through charm. 

Unphased, you still tried ignoring Armando, but the cologne peeked its fragrance once more. 

Saving your work for a moment, you faced this man just to acknowledge his presence. 

“Excuse me for not fawning over you. I prefer guys with clean records.” You told the truth. 

“You're a cop. Nobody here runs without problems, all right?” Armando keeps going, but you can't argue in public. "Bonita perra."

After living in Miami for years, you knew exactly what this smart-ass grumbled while organizing his desk.  

Armando Aretas just called you a pretty bitch under his breath. 

Rather than make a scene, you quickly text Mike for action: 

Mike, talk to your son before I slap the taste out of his mouth! 🤬

______

“C'mere right now. ” Mike cornered both of you near his office. “What did you say?”

“We were talking and she doesn't favor my criminal record, so I said that cops aren't perfect either. Then  - Bonita perra.” Armando explained. 

“So you called a bitch for not trusting everything right away? C'mon, man.” Mike shook his head through disappointment. “Apologize.”

“I'm sorry.” Armando seemed genuine this time around. 

“If this team thing is going to work, watch your mouth.” You warned Aretas and stepped out of the room. 

Armando turned his head, observing how you walked away. 

“Uh-uh!” Mike realized the gesture and caught his son peeking at your curves. “We just talked about this.” 

“She's fine. What am I supposed to do?” Armando stopped himself from laughing. 

“Never stare. Makes you look like a creep.” Mike corrected his son. 

“Okay.” Slyly taking Mike's gum, Armando pocketed the candy before leaving to see you again. 

“Hey!” Lowrey realized, just able to laugh and roll both eyes for a second. 

____

Missions wouldn't take place yet. Mike wanted to see how you and Armando would fare through lunch first. 

Seated at this local restaurant, you're placed across from Lowrey and his longtime partner Marcus Burnett. Armando perched nearby. 

“Don't fight again.” Mike warned you and Armando once drinks reached the table. 

“I'm innocent.” You lifted both hands while facing Mike. 

When meals settled for everyone, silverware clanked. 

“So weird. She's never this quiet.” Marcus acknowledged your silence at the table. 

“Food is her distraction, remember?” Mike whispered. 

“I know.” Mike sighed and looked toward Marcus again. 

“What did Armando call her? I missed the battle this morning.” Marcus was late to your argument at their station. 

“A Bonita perra.” Mike then rolled his eyes once more.  

“Pretty bitch.” Marcus shook his head while repeating the term in English. “Armando's fresh just like you.” 

“Told him already.” Mike drank water. “Caught this fool watching her walk away, too.” 

“He's been stuck in prison for years.” Marcus continued whispering. “Not saying it's right, but at least they ain't fucking.” 

Mike glanced over to see you and Armando listening to everything! 

“Oh, shit! My bad.” Marcus immediately realized his screw-up. 

“I wouldn't mind, though.” Armando winked toward you as Mike nearly cringed.

Marcus shrugged and covered the bill to leave with this group. 

______

The very first case that you would solve together detailed an absolute nightmare. 

Law enforcement agencies claimed that Conrad Howard muddled with the cartel for years. 

Yet, Lowrey and Burnett wanted to prove Cap’s innocence as soon as possible, refusing such a terrible lie. 

“Cap was framed.” You realize, looking over info as AMMO tech genius Dorn loaded virtual screens for that mission. 

“James McGrath: Former Army Ranger turned DEA agent. Tortured before joining the cartel himself.” Dorn pointed out several highlights.  

“Let's go.” You stand up to move and capture this monster, but Armando catches your wrist and locks eye contact. 

Everyone working for the AMMO squad freezes, ready to protect you. 

“Nothing goes forward without me.” Armando put his foot down.  

“Help us out, then.” You pull yourself away from this man. 

The process dragged already. 

_____

"Eres tan terco.” Calling you stubborn in Spanish, Armando found the back seat as Mike continued driving. Marcus took his passenger space again. 

“Maybe if you hadn't disrespected me this morning, I'd feel better.” You defended yourself. 

“Let it go, Spark! He apologized.” For once, Mike almost yelled from the driver's seat and brought up one of your nicknames. 

Given no other choice, you shut up and awaited this drop on McGarth. 

_______

Henchmen for McGarth frequented one of the nightclubs located downtown, so this AMMO squad dressed among Miami's finest patrons. 

“Let's pretend to be a couple. It'll keep people distracted.” Armando looped his sleeved arm around your shoulder. 

“Uh-huh.” Facing Armando, you played along for this mission. Mike and Marcus chatted with the suits lurking upstairs in that VIP section. 

“All jokes aside, you're beautiful and I really do apologize for what happened.” Armando whispered between flashing spotlights. 

“Thank you.” This true smile reached your own face. Battling wouldn't fix anything. 

“Call me?” Armando beamed close to your ear, bridging the gap of reality and fiction once more.

“Okay.”  You laugh, tickled when scuff reaching his slight beard touches your cheek. 

Brave, you reach and hold Armando's face with both hands, still amused on the dance floor. 

Just as your favorite song echoed from one of these South Beach DJs, gunshots rang out. 

On instinct, you duck with Armando and clutched his hand, no longer thinking of the mission. 

Survival waits at this forefront now. 

“Get out of there, Spark!” Mike shouted through your veiled earpiece. 

Still holding hands with Armando, you rush outside and hope to find the escape vehicle, but Dorn hasn't pulled up. 

“Shit! Jump one of the vehicles, Armando. You scrambled near one sedan, terrified. 

“C'mon!” Aretas gritted his teeth and tried to score this getaway. 

Bingo! That engine revved to life and hopped this passenger seat, leaving Mike and Marcus in the dust. 

Even your cell phones ring from respective pockets, but you don't care anymore, simply wishing to escape alive. 

_____

In an effort to keep hiding, you take Armando to your apartment. 

“Nice crib.” Despite handling this situation, he compliments your place while glancing around the living room. 

“Thank you.” You removed these heels and finally checked your phone, noticing an immediate text message: 

Mike - We lost McGarth! Lay low and meet up for a new plan tomorrow morning. 

“Dammit!” You tossed your phone across this room, but Armando caught that device in his palm.  

Though not always expressing himself, Armando still wanted to help you. 

“Tomorrow.” Aretas stepped closer to you and put your phone down on the coffee table. “It's one setback, but we'll get ‘em. Kay?”

“You have more faith than me right now.” You said, frustrated. 

“Can't give up. I never have.” Armando continued speaking. 

“Fair enough.” You cleared your throat. “I have a guest room if you want space.”

“I'll take the couch instead.” Aretas declined your offer. “Faster escape.”

“Good point.” You nodded, but settled in your private bedroom. 

____

“I thought you'd stay on the couch.” At least your offered breakfast the next day and caught Armando leaving your guest room this time. 

“I took a shower in your guest room and fell asleep.” Aretas hid one smile. 

You'd quietly noticed that Armando wore this tank top underneath the dark outfit from last night. His gun holster returned and veiled near black pants. 

“We might as well eat something.” You gestured at the kitchen table and sat down with him, trying to accept this calm before the storm. 

______

Jackpot!

McGarth lurked with his crew from an old alligator theme park. 

“Shit!” Armando whispered past his moment to swear as you moved through spots from enclosed water.  

“What?” You gently questioned him and still raised your weapon. 

This echoing growl caught your senses and truth slammed down: Real alligators shadowed, too. 

“Don't move.” Armando plans to keep you both alive. 

Just before you could say goodbye to everything, this alligator steered away, moving toward other voices. 

“Spark!” Mike shouted your nickname over the rickety bridge. One large rope dropped down, pulling you and Armando from this water. 

“Where are they?” You breathe after gaining balance with the AMMO squad. 

To make matters even worse during the mission, McGarth kidnapped Howard's daughter Callie and Mike's wife Christine. 

“This way!” Mike called, prompting everyone to run behind him. 

_____

“I need you to trust me.” Another wild fight led the path toward Callie, but Armando nearly bled out, limping as you tried to keep his walk in place. 

“I know, I know, c'mon…” Your heart dropped while Armando clenched through genuine pain for once. 

Mike and Marcus stand with the bruised AMMO squad as this destination looms steps away. 

“I'm here.” Mike promised. Nearly falling against trees, Armando noticed his father, exhausted. 

“Your wife…” Armando struggled.

“We got Christine, man. She's all right now.” Mike told the truth as Christine Lowrey emerged beside Marcus. 

“Freeze, Aretas!” Judy Howard popped from between daylight brushes and planned to kill Armando for revenge. 

“No, Mom! Don't shoot. Armando saved my life. Please!” Callie lifted both hands instead, but you blocked the young girl as well

“Judy, listen.” You just want to negotiate. “I know you're upset right now, but please put this gun down. Enough people died today.” 

McGarth finally dropped through several gunshots and other casualties lined up around the theme park. 

“All of you should get out of here before I change my mind.” Lowering that firearm, Judy Howard discharged this moment and hugged Callie, thanking so much for her daughter's survival  

______

Mike originally planned on sending Aretas back to Mexico, but you had another idea. 

“Where's the ice cream, mami?” Armando left your guest room while shirtless and rooted that fridge again. 

“Stop taking my ice cream.” You quickly roll both eyes and kiss his cheek. 

Safe at last, you could stay together now. 

[plotbunny-bundle]

I've been reading old Nightwing. (Nightwing 1996) and damn is good. I'm reading from Issue 71 through the arc where Blockbuster/Devin Grayson try to destroy Dick's life.

Honestly I'm here with popcorn 🍿 for this. I like the build up. it moves slow and is scary. I can't tell what is set up until Dick mentions it. I like watching Dick go off the handle. He is terrifying in issue 90. You don't realize how much Dick was holding back until you see him breaking arms first then asking questions. He had been on the defensive until issue 91 and the art does a great job and showing Dick as scarier. The artist has Nightwing covered in dirt and sot since his building blows up. I know what's going to happen but seeing it in comics is brutal. Blockbuster is brutal and threatening. His death and final fight was awful and brutal. He did learn a lot about Dick and knew how to predict him.

I'm really disappointed there isn't a trade volume I can find to own the arc were Deathstroke shows up around issue 80.

One of my pet peeve with Nightwing (2016) is that people keep uncovering Nightwing' identity. In 1996 I don't mind it. Maybe it's because Nightwing 1996 shows people figuring it out or the fact that Dick works to protect his identity. When people start to figure him out it's a threat.

other things I enjoy Deathstroke hanging out in Dick's apartment reading a paper. what a dork.

There's a good bit of realism and consequences in Nightwing 1996. Dick gets injured and stays injured for 5 issues. People get hurt from someone throwing Dick into oncoming traffic. Dick's boss figures out he's Nightwing from interacting with both identities and she fires him for it! Cleaning out the corruption in the police department causes problems and some of the cops are still assholes.

and the irony of Amy doing unethical things and becoming one of the corrupt cops for Dick. That's so nasty.

I loved that Dick still has contact with Haly's circus and they call him to sub. That's so cute. I liked that Dick isn't the best all the time. He makes mistakes. he gets tired. When fighting Double Dare he notes they match his acrobatics skills or could be better.

I'd probably say Nightwing is my favorite comic. and that's including volume 4.

[yoyeolears]

it's okay not to be lonely//chapter 5

zhang hao x sung hanbin

genre: angst & fluff

warnings: death, cursing, a bit suggestive

masterlist: summary | 1 | 2 | 3 pt. 1 | 3 pt. 2| 4 | 5 | 6 (final)

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chapter 4: until you crushed all my hope

word count: 1,932

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19th of December 2023  

Taking Matthew's words into grave consideration, Hao tried to utilise every opportunity to talk to Hanbin. 

However, he hadn't been through some sort of metamorphosis following his reintegration into a social life, which meant Hao was still a coward. Every time he would discreetly approach the topic, he would eventually cop out, and change subject. 

Hanbin, as usual, being the absolute sweetheart he was, did not pressure Hao into spitting out what it was that he wanted to discuss. Hao was both grateful and a little peeved because of the other's man behaviour. Unsurprisingly, his irritation at Hanbin was nothing but a mask for the frustration he felt towards his own self. 

One would think that after three months of whatever this was, Hao would feel at ease confiding to Hanbin. Yet, the paralyzing fear of possibly screwing up and losing the other was always stalking the deeper corners in his mind.   

Walking down the arts’ department hallway, head full of unproductive thoughts, Hao went over his, at this point, over-rehearsed speech in his head. This was it. He was going to get answers once and for all. 

If he could handle all that life had thrown at him up until now, he could certainly handle a love rejection. This would not break him. 

Stepping into the currently vacant dance practice room, Hao's eyebrows raised in confusion at the absence of Hanbin. Had Hanbin already left? Surely not since they had clearly made plans to meet after the other's practice finished.  

Hao took a minute to observe his surroundings. Despite knowing Hanbin for quite a while now, Hao had never visited the dance studio before, where the former spent most of his time in. It was honestly for his own well-being. Hanbin teasing him is a barely manageable feat. Hanbin tantalizing him with his dancing is not something he thought he could handle. 

The studio was simple. The painted white walls gave the impression of an abundance of natural light despite the just about complete lack of windows. The floorboards looked worn out, most likely from all the years of harsh use and the lights were so bright they could almost make one dizzy. The air was stiff and humid, proof that class had only recently finished, probably no more than an hour ago. 

Maybe Hanbin had gone to get changed somewhere. Hao imagined that they would have some sort of dressing room so students could change into a pair of clean clothes after practice. 

Hao scratched his brain for a moment, before spotting a creme white door at the far left of the room. He briefly wondered whose brilliant idea it was to color everything white in the dance studio. Everything was too blinding . He really couldn’t understand how Hanbin could spend so many hours trapped in here when the room made his head spin in such a short amount of time. If it hadn’t been for his sharp eyes, Hao was sure he would have missed the door.  

He made his way over, steps excruciatingly slow. Reaching for the door handle, he almost smacked himself in the face. What was he doing? For all he knew, there could be other people in there changing or even worse naked. Part of him doubted that was the case since no sound seemed to come from the other side of the door, but Hao still raised his fist ready to knock. 

Just as his tightly curled fist – damn you anxiety – was ready to make contact with the surface of what could be his pandora box , there was an eruption of voices from the inside of the dressing room.  

"I don't know Jiwoong. It's all a bit complicated." 

Jiwoong? Was he even part of the dance team? Why were they having a conversation in there?  

"I am only just saying Hanbin. You are sending mixed signals." 

"It isn't anything serious. I know we've slept with each other, but nothing else has come out of it." 

Oh.  

Hao quickly stepped away from the door, his hand suddenly going cold. So, this was it. The confirmation that he needed, but not necessarily wanted. Hanbin didn’t like him more than a friend did. Whatever was going on between them was some sort of casual arrangement to him. In fact, who knows? Maybe even their friendship was meaningless. Perhaps Hao thought Hanbin had cared more than he truly ever had.  

Noticing his vision become blurry, Hao trudged towards the exit of the dance practice room, his whole body feeling like a dead weight. The door behind him burst open then, the last words being exchanged between the pair resonating through the room as Hanbin’s eyes settled on Hao.  

“Hao, hey! You are here early!” Hanbin exclaimed. 

Hao twisted his head to take a quick look at the other man. The tears he had been holding in the past few minutes cascaded down his cheeks as soon as he laid his eyes on Hanbin’s sweet face. The latter’s expression swiftly morphed into a concerned one, legs already moving to close the distance between them.  

Panicking, Hao reached for the door, swinging it open before dashing away from the room. His hot tears were still falling non-stop, drenching his neck and t-shirt, and making it hard to see in front of him.  

He could still hear Hanbin calling out his name, and he pondered for a second if the man was going to come after him. For the first time since he met Hanbin, Hao shivered at the thought of the other being close to him. His legs, albeit already weak, picked up their pace.  

And just like that Hao walked away from the arts department and away from Sung Hanbin’s life.  

Hao’s world went silent after that incident. For the first couple of days, he spent his time engulfed by his cold bed sheets, dampening them with his endless tears. He truthfully believed that having experienced his parents’ death would have prepared him for another heartbreak, but he had been wrong all along. Hao gradually came to understand that his hope hadn’t been completely erased after that tragic day in May of 2021. That was the reason why he had so easily let Hanbin in despite his initial apprehension. Hanbin had been his last hope, and Hao was foolish enough to believe that he was never going to be alone again.  

Coming to terms with another loss seemed insurmountable. Hao felt bits of his soul crack with every thought, the crevices getting deeper and deeper. Nothing seemed to help. Especially seeing Hanbin’s name flash on his phone screen repeatedly. Hao had almost caved in so many times. He craved to hear the other’s man sweet voice on the other line, to tell him that it was all going to be alright. That Hao was going to be okay . But then the sharp reminder of the conversation he had overheard would invade his mind, forcing him to remember why he felt broken beyond repair in the first place. 

In spite of it all, on the third day of his hopeless grieving, Hao managed to get up, clothe himself in whatever his frail hands could grab onto, and traipse all the way to his final lecture of the week. He had already missed too many at this point. He couldn’t afford to mess up his scholarship as well. On the plus side, this would also be his last class for the semester as winter break was to start the next day. With that thought in mind, Hao finally found some courage and increased his speed, ready to get this done and over with. 

Arriving at the lecture hall already late, Hao received an earful from Professor Choi, her words not even registering as Hao took a seat wherever. If this had happened a few weeks ago he would have practically died from shame similarly to that first time in Mr Park’s class. However, this Hao couldn’t find himself to care for any of that.  

The minutes ticked by agonizingly slow, the professor’s voice practically booming through the lecture hall. Had Mrs. Choi always been this boisterous?  

As soon as class was dismissed, Hao yanked at his bag, dragging himself out of the room. He was so ready to go home.  

“Hao, wait up!”, someone hollered.  

Hao barely recognized the owner of the voice for a second, before realizing it belonged to none other than Matthew.  

Frightened by the mere idea of being confronted by Hanbin’s best friend, he tried to act as if he didn’t hear the other calling him, praying that he would give up on his first try and Hao would be able to get away successfully.  

However, Hao being as unlucky as he is, was betrayed by his own body as he staggered the second he heard Matthew address him.  

“Hao, please! Just give me a moment. I really need to talk to you!” he cried out.  

He exhaled heavily, turning his attention to Matthew. Sua hung behind him, hands awkwardly grasping the sleeves of the man’s jacket.  

“What is it?” Hao asked, voice sounding more hostile than he intended to. Matthew wasn’t at fault for what had transpired between him and Hanbin after all. Perhaps, he was a bit salty about the ungrounded hope the former had given him though.  

“Listen, I know what you heard or at least what you think you heard, but Hanbin truly didn’t mean what he said. It was taken out of context,” Matthew explained.  

Hao narrowed his eyes at him, “Are you telling me that I overreacted?” 

The other seemed to realize how his words came off, hastily retracting his statement. 

“No, that’s not what I meant. I just mean that you didn’t get to hear the entire conversation.” 

Hao scoffed, “Did you?” 

He was being mean. He knew that he was being unreasonable towards someone who had never done anything wrong to him, but he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to, all the hurt he had been feeling the past few days finally being leashed out.  

Matthew frowned at him, getting tongue-tied. Sua, who had been observing the interaction, decided to step in.  

“You don’t have to be so rude only because you have trust issues or whatever this is. I should have never challenged Hanbin to talk to you.” 

Hao knit his eyebrows in confusion. In front of Sua, Matthew’s eyes turned wide in panic.  

“Sua! You can’t say that!” 

The woman stared at him incredulously, “Why not? It is the truth. Hanbin was obsessed with the idea of getting the so-called mute boy to talk to him. I only fueled that interest by suggesting he took it as a challenge.” 

A challenge. Hao had been nothing but a challenge. 

Suddenly, his head hurt. His ears were pounding, producing incoherent sounds. He could hear his heartbeat thrumming against his chest, its rhythmic sounds slowly losing their tempo as pain set in. He stumbled on his own feet, knees hitting the floor with a loud thud. He could still hear voices quarreling in the background, but everything felt extremely out of focus.  

Mind hazy, eyes falling in and out of focus and body growing weaker every minute, Hao took one tentative step in another effort to run away from all the noise.  

However, his own body betrayed him one last time as everything went silent a second later. His vision disappeared and the last thing he remembered was the sound of his own body falling on the floor accompanied by the onset of panicked screams. 

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A/N: I know. Shock of the century. Another chapter within less than 4 days? Major shocker. I guess I've just had a lot of inspiration. So much that the final chapter is already underway. It will most likely be a way longer one though, so it will take some time to finish most likely. This has been my favourite chapter to write so far, and I am honestly really proud of my writing. I tried extremely hard to convey Hao's emotions of betrayal and desperation as best as I could and I hope that anyone who reads the chapter will be able to feel them too (Not that I want anyone being miserable, I love you all.) I promise the story does have a happy ending! No need for anyone to hit me with a chair. But you know, it i will get worse before it gets any better. Anyway, I would like to preemptively thank everyone who has joined me on this short but sweet journey. This story means a lot to me as someone who has struggled with emotions of loneliness for pretty much my entire life. I will talk about this a bit more in depth in the notes of the final chapter - not that anyone cares, but I like to be inspirational - and as previously mentioned I will be teasing my next fic! Enjoy the chapter! Kudos/comments are always appreciated. See you for the finale! -Jina

[the-interidiot]

i got you, DAVIDSON HC'S PLEASE - favourite animal? - music taste?? any favourite bands or genres? has he ever been to any concerts and if he has, how was the experience? who did he go with? - does he play any instruments? how good is he? - hobbies and interests outside of work? how and why did he get into them? how much does he enjoy them? - favourite places to go/favourite things to do with carol - favourite tv shows/movies? do any of them make him cry? any characters he relates to? - is that man autistic and if yes info please..... (also any other disorders/illnesses?) - any cool scars? what's the story behind them, is he embarassed by any or does he like to show em off? - ever gotten into trouble with the police? if so, how? (not counting that time he punched Sam in the nose) - favourite food? can he cook, and how good is he? what's his favourite thing to cook if he can? - any guilty pleasures? - does he have anything he likes to collect like plushies or figurines? - is he a hoarder or more of a minimalist guy? :)

He likes dogs - especially lanky boys like Salukis, as well as large cats like lions (he takes way too many photos of them at the zoo). Counterwise, he likes big birds but is terrified of small ones like budgies.

I actually made a music playlist for Mr. Davidson which you can find here on YouTube! His music taste is mostly positive stuff, especially older music with big bang style. (Though the big band element is not well shown in the playlist).

He never took any kind of musical lessons, but can play the drums pretty well. Unfortunately he’s not gifted in the instrument department and had trouble trying to pick up electric guitar.

He is a huge theater nerd, and does karaoke at bars with his wife on a lot of days off. He watched the Mystery of Edwin Drood once because the tickets were cheap and his whole brain went ‘THAT.’ And it became a hyperfixation.

[I had no immediate ideas for these two, I will get to them!]

Mr. Davidson is autistic, as well as having ADHD. He also does have little bit of issues with hypermobility, but it doesn’t affect him enough to get any medication.

He also doesn’t know what Adderall is. Somebody should tell him. /silly

He has quite a few burns on his right arm from very frequently spilling coffee on himself a lot. He gets too excited and doesn’t put his cup down, and after time it left some permanent damage. He also has a raccoon bite on his leg from trying to pet a feral raccoon.

He’s never been in trouble with the cops… that he’ll tell you. As an adult he’s never had any reason to have an issue with the cops, though when he was a teenager he definitely did. Some of the older cops don’t fully trust him still.

He can cook really well, but he never does. In fact, the first time most people had seen, heard, or even imagined him cooking was when a virus went around the office and he made everyone Eggdrop soup.

What Do You Want Paul. /ref

He collects expired coupons and sticks them to his fridge with magnets. He loves his weird paper mache looking fridge, so does Carol.

He’s surprisingly not a hoarder, other than the coupons. He somehow always has a weirdly convenient item, but his house is super clean and he has half-empty closets from how little he carries. He does keep a lot of small things in his desk junk drawer though.

[adrian---murphy]

Black Cat gf + Golden idiot BF

Who actually enjoyed interviewing? The answer, of course, was no one at all. Still, there were bills to be paid and food was needed to live, and neither of those things would happen on an aspiring game developer's non-existent salary. For this reason alone ( and the fact that he didn’t want a roommate ever again), Adrian had marched his way into the fifth building of the day, a towering feat of fine architecture that was primarily a law firm, but rented out offices and even entire floors for freelancer types or small businesses. It was impressive, and intimidating, and made Adrian regret not renting a suit jacket or something to make himself look a bit more professional. Still, at least his shirt was clean. The pale blue button down was as fancy as he got ( or could really afford), and if he got the job he was after, was good enough for an office monkey.

While he wished that his time could be spent working on his game, his degree and experience made writing code and doing basic tasks in someone’s IT department an easy paycheck that would leave him with time to work on his project on the side with no one knowing the difference. 

Seated in the sprawling lobby, people in nicer looking clothing than his rushed around, all busy and important and making him feel inferior just by being there. Still, he needed a real job, and thus was overcoming his awkward insecurities as best as he could while he waited to be called on. It was a bit of a wait, however, and the three cups of coffee he had were not as patient. Between security checks and being switched to a different floor, the java had made it’s way down to his bladder, and fidgeting in his seat didn’t make him look like a good candidate for a job. With a polite inquiry, Adrian shot up and made his way where he’d been directed in hopes to find a bathroom. He held it in as he made his way around the winding floor plan, going through door after door and finding nothing.

It had been minutes, and he was beginning to become worried he’d be summoned and not there, lost in the building or draining the lizard at his time, and became panicked. The panic did nothing but make the urge to pee stronger, and desperate times called nature. At a glance, the empty hallway was inviting enough to make Adrian wander swiftly to the women’s bathroom he saw at the end of a corridor. Why the women’s bathroom was right there but the men’s wasn’t, Adrian couldn’t fathom, but he was in no position to question it when the risk of having to flee the building with wet pants was this strong.

Be knocked first, and heard nothing, knocked again, announcing himself this time. There was still nothing, so Adrian pushed in the door and rushed to a stall. He could be in and out fast enough to not get caught, he decided, breathing a sigh of relief as he let go of what he’d held in. The deep was under a minute, and he quickly flushed and exited the stall. The plan was to wash his hands and make a break for it, but instead, he came face-to-face with the last thing he wanted to see. The dark eyes of a person who was actually supposed to be in this bathroom met him and locked on with a fierceness that made Adrian shiver and cower. He took a step back, his hands in the air in a gesture of surrender. “I-I-I know what this looks like…” He began, a helpless and embarrassed look on his face. “ I’m not a pervert, I swear to God, I just really really needed to take a leak and I asked the lady at the desk but I swear to God this building is worse than a laser tag maze and I couldn’t hold it and nobody was even in here so I thought I could just get in and do my business but I swear to God I wasn’t trying to do anything and I know what that sounds like and what this looks like but please don’t call the cops on me. I look tough but I have pretty lips and I’m really easy to push around and I wouldn’t do well in prison.”

[tales-from-the-badge-shiner]

Frat Boys, Part 3

i awkwardly start undressing, holding the bulbous helmet head in my mouth, only momentarily pulling off to get my t-shirt over my head, which resulted in Him pulling me fully onto His cock again, firmly lodged down my throat. ‘Now, follow where I lead you.’ I hear the click of the door locking as he begins to pull me along by my ears, again walking backwards, his massive Beast lodged deep in my esophagus, as i’m seeing stars from lack of air. He lets me get occasional quick breaths but is controlling my air and the direction as I’m passively led along, half dazed. By the time he withdraws enough for me to orient myself i’m in a room painted completely black, with no windows, with only a small black light on the ceiling giving any surreal light. I realize where i am, a hidden room that has been rumored about in the building but my police department has never found. ‘ Welcome to the Sex Room. Now the fun *really* begins.’ His face is lit but he’s no longer hiding the dark sadism on his face.

There’s a dirty mattress on the floor & beyond the blacklight & the young Man controlling me, i can see nothing. He’s using my throat, roughly & i’ve become a living fleshlight for Him to use. Between the gagging, being deprived of air & the subspace my head is fully in i’m completely disoriented, & being passive. He says above me ‘get him positioned then we can start’& immediately impales himself on me& holds my head down. As i struggle for air a bit i become aware that i’m being spread eagle and secured down on top of some kind ofpillowed bench that leaves both holes completely exposed, my nub is tucked under and back, also fully exposed. The Man then says something that scares me completely. ‘ I said I’d give you everything you wanted. I know faggots like you need cocks & cum like the rest of us need air, so you’re going to get all you could want. The entire frat is going to pull a train on both your holes all night long. Don’t worry, we’ll let you out before your shift is over...’ As the Man continues to use my throat i hear someone hawk up a load of spit & the blunt head of a cock start pushing into my ass. i realize this night will be one i dread and remember the rest of my life.....

....hours later i’m slowly released. My throat and ass are raw, stretched out & loaded with more guys cum than i can count or remember. At some point the Man who brought me to the room was mounting my ass & explained everyone had known i was a faggot, so a bet was on as to who could get the ‘fag cop’ on his knees. It turned out that ‘Beast’ was the right bait, & my host had earned major points with the frat by sharing his bitch with everyone else. His pulling my along the hall was not only a victory lap, but letting everyone know that he had a ‘party bitch’ to share. i was allowed to clean up & get dressed, my gear still locked as promised. As I walked out to my vehicle, the sun just starting to color the sky with my body aching, my balls sore from getting slapped around & twisted, i was still focused on my host’s last words ‘Next time, we’ll really put you thru some work faggot. Now, time to get out...and, you made me proud.’

i couldn’t have been happier or more content.

[average-guy-reviews]

Renfield (2023)

"Renfield, the tortured aide to his narcissistic boss, Dracula, is forced to procure his master's prey and do his every bidding. However, after centuries of servitude, he's ready to see if there's a life outside the shadow of the Prince of Darkness."

Starring Nicholas Cage as Dracula I went into this film with my expectations set at, what I believed to be, an appropriate level. I mean, it's Nicholas Cage as Dracula, what else could I do? But you know what I was wrong...but we'll come to that in a bit.

This is the second film in the last couple of years that has taken the story of the most influential vampire in literature and tried to update it to modern times. This time it works so much better than The Invitation. Instead of trying to make it a serious story it leans into the insane campy nature of what Dracula is. It also tells it from the point of view of R. M. Renfield, the long-suffering servant of the legendary Count.

Nicholas Hoult, as the eponymous servant, is a man who realises that the opportunity to escape from under his controlling boss and that he wants to take it. Hoult's journey from under-the-thumb servant to his own man is great, and Hoult really nails the travails of excavating yourself from a controlling situation with humour, and a huge amount of gory violence. It's a brilliant performance that actually shows solid acting from Hoult, while also highlighting that ability to really ramp up the action. I've never thought about this before, but potentially Hoult as James Bond? Either way I really enjoyed him in this film.

Awkwafina plays Rebecca Quincy, a cop who is looked down on by the rest of her department, and resigned to working DUIs, while wanting to help clean up New Orleans. Awkwafina is just a lot of fun to watch on screen. Her reactions to everything that happens are fabulous, and she looks like she had a lot of fun in, quite possibly, the most unique film she's been in. I've only seen in her in this and Shang-Chi, but can't wait to see her in other things.

Nicholas Cage........Nicholas Cage as Dracula is goddamn perfection. He was everything I was expecting, but so much more. It felt like he was channeling a number of his previous roles, for sure there was some of Castor Troy coming through, and it was bloody awesome. It's unlikely to go down as a truly iconic performance of Dracula, but it was such a fun take on it. Bringing Dracula into the modern world and having him actually look at the world as it is and what he could make of it. Nicholas Cage is always going to be Nicholas Cage and I am always going to like his films, but this was one that I thoroughly enjoyed.

The director and writer, Chris McKay and Robert Kirkman, have done something I wasn't entirely sure was possible. They have modernised Bram Stoker's characters without losing their essential essences, and brought them into the modern world while allowing them to 'live' as they would in that situation. The cinematography and special effects are great, and add to the madness that is the story. None of this film, from performances to camera work, takes itself seriously and it is much the better for it.

Overall this is a truly fun movie, and a great addition to the canon of Dracula movies. Both Nicholases were superb and Awkwafina was a joy to journey along with. Will Dracula literary purists like this? God no, they'll more than likely hate it. Will regular folks who know Dracula like this? Yeah, I think they absolutely will. Would I recommend it to absolutely everyone anyway? Hell yes. It's getting a 7.5/10 from me. It's a really good, fun, romp and I'm definitely going back to see it again.

[roses-adventures]

Okay two things one In that first photo immediately I went to posture and facial expression etc. He's sitting rigid which implies he's got a vest, his feet are in a position to be able to move at any second, his cup wasn't held comfortably and even the way he's holding his phone shows he's recording. His face also says fuck I'm caught.

Now I actually am really good at reading people so is My boyfriend, as a kid/young adult I wanted to be an fbi profiler (until I realized thats a joke) or international spy (I'm disabled) or a lawyer (i have 4 years of political science and Hispanic studies degrees focused on law, prisons, Healthcare and immigration so thats still an option when i have money) and I find human psychology fascinating that was my first choice major but my disability prevented a psych degree, and my boyfriend worked military and then in the police department in the csi lab (both non US). It's also worth mentioning that certain times we have zero filter, so we just say things sometimes ����. we run a kik group together and this guy comes in the group, I own it so I verify the guy, get his age and location all that. Then he starts talking and something just seems ....off. now I also lived in the hood on and off for 12 years and I recognized the way he spoke. Literally the tone he texted in and the words he used, even his pfp just the photo of him screamed cop. finally after a couple hrs of him being there I was like, "are you a cop?" And he was like......radio silence.... my boyfriend whos on a call with me is dying laughing saying "babes you can't just ask people if they're cops 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣" I'm like "well I just did, if he's from the US directly asked they're legally required to tell us especially if he's trying to collect info" so we wait finally dude goes, "yeah..I am" I was like "I knew it" my boyfriend smokes weed legally and dude would manage to come on during the times he was, we messed with him for a bit too, nothing mean just talked as we normally do about me being a prison abolitionist and some of the other members would joke about committing low level crime or them being angels, our trauma, smexual experiences etc, all of which im sure was way more than this guy signed up for, a couple of the members like me and my boyfriend have bad experiences with cops (I was never arrested and never committed a crime i am very often, harrassed, stalked, made fun of and lied to by police that it makes it difficult to be comfortable with them) (my partner just has problems with authority), so we were more on guard. He left a few days later, either because we bore him or he found out we're all clean there legally speaking, and he couldn't buy drugs (though he did ask at one point whether joking or not thats sus).

Anyway, pigs love sheep clothing. Make sure you know how to spot them, your rights, local laws, basic federal laws and by all means DO NOT EXPECT THEY KNOW THE LAW, THEY DON'T. I've had more than 3 lie or blatantly not know the law and its always put me in a bad position. Remind them of the law, correct them, they hate it but it's entirely necessary.

I tend to also get harassed because I'm not light enough for them (I'm mixed race) so another tip a very very strange one at that. If you go out and are asking question or directions some place but you don't look like your only ancestors stepped off the mayflower but your friend does, have them ask the question or directions. I've tested it, they got rude with me acted like I was gonna steal cars and condescendingly said "maybe next time remember where you parked it" (it was 10pm in Seattle everything's dark we got there at 5pm when it was sunny of course we lost the car) anyway they turned to My friend who looks like a lighter version of the lucky charms mascot Character and kindly told him exactly how to get there.

Losing my mind remembering that pic chelsea manning posted of the extremely undercover and not at all obvious fbi agent who was tailing her after her release

[jones7thavenue]

2023 Diary Entry No. 8

I just took my lunchtime medicine before the alarms sounded off. I'm so scared that the credit department is going to say no, but, once Friday comes up, and the total opposite happens, then I'll be happy again. For now, I need to focus on my dopamine dry spell, which Mr. McDumbass Motherfucker caused, and I'm just.....fuck. He cheated on me, used me for money and bullshitting and partying. Now I have worse abandonment issues than my own fucking mother! I have to work twice as hard to keep myself from coming apart, due to the shit I'm in. Whining isn't helping at all. To get out of the shitty situation I'm in, I need to be busier than before. [sigh]

Right now, I'm watching listening to the playlist, Weightless, on shuffle with my parents, as I'm writing this entry. A NC number called, I hung up and blocked said number. It pissed me off, so I don't know if the MF were even a credit collections guy there, but I also don'g give a gd fuck; I've been in a mood to elongate my universal shit list; the longer it gets, the happier I feel, masked or not. Now that my grandmother and them are on my shit list, the best thing I can do is just avoid anything that associates the names, David, Tyler, and Richard [ex bf names] and also Francis, Thomas, Shirley [family names], unless they can prove their worthiness to me. Should I change my name Alistaire F. D. Jones, there's going to be a McHuge McDick of a McMotherfucking McProblem, when my deadname comes out of the mouths of the McDumbass Coven, so fuck the Coven of Toads, aka the McDumbass Coven!

Anyway, I'm going to play Kombat League online in a bit, after getting myself together, now that I have a new body wash to clean myself with. I also need a break after the move, but, right now, I have no more resources to have anything involving convenience, for convenience is what brought me in this shitty situation in the first fucking place. At first, misery help me gain a shit load of weight, having stayed at this shitty, moldy ass place with my parents, eating anything to get better. Because of my issues, and those of my parents, which both McDumbass and Pops caused, we have a grace period of two weeks to find a new place to start over elsewhere before [that landlord] even gives us an eviction notice for a month. {the workers} didn't care to fix a damn thing in this bitch, so, once we get approved, we are so done with here, like I've fucking been for the past 1.5 years. The misery I've gained [from the abusive shit in the relationshit] is still hanging over me, and I'm so done with having been emotionally, and physically drained, from so many fucking errands and this fucking relationship of convenience shit. So, yeah. I wanted a family, but only at this age, not my late 20s, but, fuck it.

Anyway, we're watching Cops. My plans for tonight are to sleep for the night, or game, should I stay up late again.

[disturbedbydesign]

The Widow and the Wolf - Chapter 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x dark!exWidow!reader

Summary: After Natasha Romanoff took down the Red Room, the former Widows scattered to the wind. Raised to be a killing machine and released into the world with nothing and no one, you decided to use your newfound autonomy to take down the bad guys of your choosing. But now Natasha is riddled with guilt for leaving you on your own. She wants to recruit you, rehabilitate you, make you part of a team again. But the rest of the squad has reservations, and no one is more against you than Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: Graphic violence; Mentions of domestic violence, rape, pedophilia, human trafficking, child sex trafficking; eventual Dubcon (not Bucky); eventual smut; slow(ish) burn enemies-to-lovers. [More warnings will be added as necessary but these are the Big Bads.] 18+ only, no minors.

A/N: This is canon-adjacent in that I just decided to pick and choose who I wanted to write for and what parts of canon I wanted to use. Best not to think too hard about where it falls on the timeline because the canon is a mess and we all kind of hate it anyway.

If you prefer to read on AO3, you can do so here.

Chapter One

You’ve been tracking him for days, not that it was hard. His patrol schedule is always the same, as is his after-hours routine: drinks at the Irish pub on Reade Street with the other boys in blue. It’s a cop bar but you waltz right in, looking lost even though you know the name, rank, and various misdeeds of every guy in the place. He looks at you, because of course he does—his wife assured you that he has a wandering eye, among his other sins.

You take a seat at the bar. “Double vodka rocks, please.”

The bartender pours you your drink and you take a deep pull, savoring the burn of it. Then you wait, but it doesn’t take long—it never does. Sergeant Thompson sidles up to the barstool next to you.

“Hey darlin,” he says, his breath reeking of cheap beer. “You lost?”

You turn to him with an innocent smile. “Evening, officer.”

“It’s Sergeant,” he says, tapping his badge, “but I won’t hold that against you. So, what’s a pretty young thing doing in a dive bar with a bunch of old men?”

“I was supposed to meet a friend for dinner but she bailed on me. Figured I’d grab a drink before I head home.”

“And where is home?” he asks, not that it’s any of his business, but cops think they deserve answers to any questions they feel like asking.

“Williamsburg,” you lie.

“You’re pretty far from home, then,” he replies, even though you both know that you aren’t. He takes a sip of his beer and the foam leaves a trace like a mustache before he licks it clean. “It’s late. Why don’t you let me drive you? Wouldn’t want you on the subway this time of night.”

“It’s only 8:30,” you say. “I think I’ll be just fine.”

He leans in conspiratorially. “Well, I really shouldn’t be telling you this—open investigation and all that—but we’ve been on the lookout for a guy in the area, serial rapist, real nasty piece of work.”

That’s one thing the two of you have in common at least.

“I’d feel a lot better if you’d let me take you home, darlin.”

“I suppose it couldn’t hurt,” you admit. “Can’t get much safer than the NYPD, right?”

He laughs and so do you, knowing that nothing is farther from the truth—especially when it comes to this guy.

Sergeant Thompson speeds across the Williamsburg Bridge with his flashers on, headed toward the address you gave him. Of course, that’s not actually your address—you don’t have a home anymore—it’s just one of many rundown warehouses in the neighborhood, variously used for impromptu raves and as drug dens and, in your case, a private place in which you can take care of business without fear of being interrupted.

“This is me,” you say, waiting for him to let you out of the back of the cruiser where he insisted you ride—caged in like a helpless animal, or so he thinks.

“This place?” he asks. “Looks like it’s about to collapse.”

“You’d be surprised what they can do to these places on the inside—gentrification and what have you. My rent is astronomical.”

“Still,” he says, “I’d like to walk you up. Looks a bit unsavory.”

“If you insist, Sergeant.”

The second you get up the stairs to the top floor, you inject him with the etorphine, straight into the jugular, and down he goes. It never gets old—how easy it is, when they think that they are the predator and you are the prey. You drag him into the loft where you’re already set up for a long night’s work.

When he comes to, he’s fixed to the chair with (among other things) his own handcuffs, mouth taped shut and a rag shoved in for good measure. You don’t want to hear him talk; it’s time for him to listen. His day of reckoning has come. He starts to squirm but between the cuffs and the duct tape and the sedative still coursing through his veins, he’s not going anywhere. Even if he did get free, you could take him down easy. It’s what you were trained for. It’s what you were born for.

“Welcome back, Sergeant,” you say, and he screams something unintelligible through the rag which, if you had to guess, would be some combination of “cunt” or “bitch” or any of the other choice words he likes to use on his women.

The tarps are laid meticulously around the room, placed strategically to catch any and all evidence of what you’re about to do. When he notices them, he goes still, because he knows. Part of him knows.

“So,” you say, pulling out the Thompson file, “this is quite the impressive resume you’ve got here, Sarge. Lots of civilian brutality complaints, including a few choice allegations from female prisoners. Oh, and then there’s the domestic violence and marital rape. You’re a real charmer, huh?”

There’s more muffled screaming but you ignore it—the last gasps of a dying man.

“Here’s the thing, Sarge. I know you think that you’re above the law, because you are the law, but you aren’t. Your wife is real tired of your shit, and me? Well, let’s just say that my motto is protect and serve.” You lean in close enough to smell the salty sweat on his brow. “And unlike you, I actually mean it.”

You pull your favorite knife from your thigh holster and slit him from ear to ear. “See you in hell, Sergeant.”

You sit on the edge of the table, swinging your legs and watching him bleed out. It doesn’t take long. The actual disposal is the real work. You set about chopping him into manageable pieces and you find yourself missing the days when you didn’t have to cover your tracks alone, when there was a clean-up team to take care of it for you.

But you’re freelance now. You’re not a Widow anymore. She made sure of that.

Sometimes—like right now, when you’re dripping sweat and every muscle in your body is screaming its exertion as you saw through bone after bone—you hate Natasha Romanoff. You know why she did what she did; you understand that, objectively, it was the right thing to do. But did she ever stop to consider the repercussions of her actions? She got out early and found a new family and became one of the Good Guys. But you? You entered the Red Room with nothing and you left with nothing.

They always said you were born to be a killer. It’s all you’ve ever known. So what exactly did she expect you to do? You may be free of the mind control, but you never had the chance to develop a mind of your own. Killing is all you know. At least now you get to pick your own targets.

Once you’ve got Sergeant Thompson all squared away, you pack him up in the trunk of his cruiser and drive upstate, listening to the 80s station you like. It occurs to you that most people have heard these songs a thousand times—so many times that they know the lyrics instinctively, can sing them without even having to think about it. It’s all new to you, though. You can’t decide whether it makes you sad to think about all you’ve missed or whether you’re lucky that you get to experience for the first time what everyone else is already tired of.

When you get to the farm, you dump Thompson in the holes you’ve already backhoed, then you hop on the Cat and fill them all in. You shoot a text to Mrs. Thompson from your burner—just a thumbs-up emoji—and she replies with a smiley face. It was only so long before he would have killed her; she knows it as well as you do. The only people that will grieve the dearly departed Sergeant Thompson are a bunch of assholes who are one false move from ending up in your web.

You didn’t charge Mrs. Thompson your usual rate—just what she could afford without drawing the attention and ire of the Mister. Sometimes, depending on the circumstances, you even work pro bono. After all, you only kill people for money who you would happily kill for free. You consider it a service, something for the greater good of society. You’ll take money, sure—you need it to live and to continue your work—but not from people who can’t easily spare it.

You have standards. You have a code. That’s the difference between the you that served as a mindless weapon wielded by others and the you that decides for yourself how to use the gifts you’ve been given. No women. No children. No collateral damage. Only Very Bad Men who’ve done Very Bad Things. You don’t see the harm in it, not really, and as you settle into bed you come back to the thought you often have before a fitful night of sleep: who’s the real avenger, Natasha?

*****

Natasha wipes her brow and throws the rag down on the mat, grabbing a bottle of water and chugging half of it before she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. Bucky has barely broken a sweat from their morning sparring session, and he doesn’t even try to fake it. He’s in an especially grumpy mood.

“This is a bad idea, Natasha.”

“To some people, maybe,” she says, “but I want to bring her in anyway. I don’t understand how you of all people are against me on this, Bucky.”

“Uh, for starters, she’s a serial killer.”

“That’s a bit of a harsh assessment, considering the circumstances. And do I really need to remind you that the same could be said about the two of us? That a lot of people still say that about us?”

Bucky sighs, because he knows she’s right, but this is different—you are different. “It’s not the same,” he grumbles, but he’s not entirely sure it isn’t, and that’s what’s really bothering him.

“Look,” Nat says, taking a step toward Bucky, “I need to try, ok? I know what she’s going through because I went through it, except she’s completely alone out there with nothing and no one. You and I… we had people behind us, helping us.”

“And what if she says no?” Bucky asks. “Are you just gonna let her go on doing what she’s doing? She’s killed… how many is it now?”

Natasha mutters something under her breath and Bucky looks at her expectantly. “What was that, Tasha?”

“25 people in the last 6 months,” she states, her mouth set in a hard line.

“Exactly,” he says.

“I would like to point out that they were all very bad people. So...”

“Tasha,” he says, and he puts his hand up to silence her. “I can’t help you on this. I’m sorry. I want to, but I can’t.”

Natasha huffs out a laugh. “You know what, Barnes? You’re real high and mighty for a guy who–”

Natasha stops herself when she sees the ice-cold look in Bucky’s eyes. “Go on. For a guy who what?”

“Nothing,” she says. “I’m sorry. I’ll go on my own.”

“Well, good luck to you. Hope you don’t get your throat slit.”

Bucky stomps off and Natasha is left wondering if she’s about to make a huge mistake. She knows you’re volatile, that a part of you must resent her, but she needs to make it right. At the very least, she needs to try.

Natasha grabs her tablet and scrolls through the latest intel on your whereabouts. She’s just missed you in New York, but she thinks she’s got a jump on your next target: some coke dealer down in Miami with a predilection for underage girls. Just a brief glance at this guy’s file is enough to make Natasha’s blood run cold. She knows why you do what you do. If she’s honest, it doesn’t bother her one bit that you’re doing it. It’s the thought of you out there on your own, filled with hate and anger and thirsty for bloody vengeance, that frightens her. Because maybe one day—left to your own devices, lost in the chaos of your troubled mind—getting the Bad Guys won’t be enough for you. Maybe you’ll decide that some of the Good Guys aren’t so good after all. Maybe you’ll even be right.

She contemplates being honest with Steve and telling him where she’s headed but decides against it. Steve isn’t on board with her plan. Natasha doesn’t fault him for it—he doesn’t understand, he couldn’t. Bucky, though... that’s a disappointment, and it surprises her. If anyone knows what it feels like to spend your life as someone else’s weapon, it’s Bucky Barnes.

Natasha waits until nightfall to “borrow” the Quinjet, and she finds Bucky waiting for her when she gets to the hangar.

“I’m coming with you,” he says, “but only as back-up. She’s dangerous, Natasha.”

“Maybe so,” Natasha replies, “but only because she’s afraid.”

*****

You knew that she’d be coming for you sooner or later. Might as well get it over with. Your little stilt cabin on the outskirts of the Everglades isn’t quite set up for company but at least it’s tucked away and difficult to access. You’re surprised she brought him, though—that was a mistake. You and she could have a nice long conversation, but you have nothing to say to the Soldat.

You climb up the tree to your lookout platform and hoist your sniper rifle onto your shoulder, following their slow but steady progress through the knee-deep swamp water, trying to line up a decent shot as they weave in between the bald cypress trees. When you see your chance, you take it, and you put one about an inch from where the Soldat’s metal arm meets the flesh of his shoulder. It ricochets off, as intended, and he jumps forward to shield Natasha. You hear her laugh through your earpiece.

“Relax, Barnes. It was a warning shot. If she wanted to hit you, she would have.”

“She did hit me,” he snaps.

You smile as you descend from the tree to meet them.

“Well well well,” you say. “If it isn’t the Murder Twins. To what do I owe this unwanted visit?”

“You know why I’m here,” Natasha says.

“Yes,” you reply, “but why is he here?”

The man she calls Barnes looks at you with disdain and you give it right back to him. You can tell that shot in the arm really pissed him off and it pleases you to no end.

“He’s just watching my back,” she says. “That’s what happens when you’re on a team.”

“Right, The Avengers. How adorable.”

“Listen,” Natasha begins, but you stop her.

“Let me save you the trouble of whatever little speech you have prepared. I’m not coming with you. I’m not going to Widow rehab and joining your ragtag group of misfits. And I’m not going to stop doing my work just because you come here and bat your eyes and smile pretty at me.”

“Your work?” spits the Soldat. “Is that what you’re calling it?”

“Bucky, don’t-”

“Let him talk, Romanoff,” you say. “He obviously has some… opinions. Now that he’s got the mask off, he can finally speak for himself.” You take a step towards him, your rifle in hand but not pointed at him. “So speak, Soldat.”

He looks flustered and not a little bit angry. You can tell he doesn’t like to be called by that name. “Killing people isn’t work,” he says.

You huff out a laugh. “And what is it that the two of you do, exactly? Run a coffee shop?”

“We are not the same,” he says, and you smile because you know that he doesn’t actually believe that—how could he after everything he’s done?

“I think we are exactly the same, Soldat, with one huge exception: you’re still letting other people tell you what to do, and I’m done with all that.”

“This is pointless,” he says.

“Now that is something you and I actually agree on.” You turn to Natasha. “You should go while you still can. I have work to do.”

But Natasha just won’t let it go. “I should never have left you alone,” she says. “This is my fault. Let me fix it.”

“I don’t need to be fixed,” you snap, and you raise your rifle and point it directly at her head. “Leave, Natasha. And take your little pet with you.”

The Soldat grabs her arm gently. “Let’s go, Tasha. She’s hopeless.”

You feel a pang of something then—some indescribable form of melancholy. You try to keep it off your face but you can tell from the look in his eyes that he sees it. A minute tremble of your lip, the quick double blink—it gives you away, and now you’re really pissed off.

“Leave. Now,” you yell, and it pierces through the sweltering darkness. “I’ll make you sorry if you don’t.”

You watch Natasha and the bionic man make their way out of the swamp. You don’t turn your back on them, not that you think they’ll try to take you by force. That would be unwise and Natasha knows it. Once you’re satisfied that they’re gone, you return to the cabin. The bloodied man in the linen suit lays strapped to the bed where you left him, squirming and shouting around the gag in his mouth.

You have to stop yourself from making this a messy affair, but the anger you feel—at her, at him, at everything—is making it difficult to temper your darker urges. You’re not one for torture, even though this man absolutely deserves it for the horrible things he’s done. You almost give in, but you remind yourself that this is a job—it is work, despite what the Soldat may think—and you have to remain professional.

You grab the man’s file off the desk and pull a chair up next to the bed. “So, Mr. Garcia, where were we?”

CHAPTER TWO >>>

[ragingbookdragon]

The Vampire's Masquerade PT. 2

A Jason Todd x Vampire!Reader Story

Word Count: 14,090 Warnings: NSFW (Smut), Explicit Language, Violence, Mentions of Past Assault and Abuse

Author's Note: I made a story mixing DC and Skyrim and you're going to like it because that's what I've put on your plate. I've chaptered the story but Tumblrs a bitch and I can't post the entire thing so I'm going to do two parts. But it's still going to take forever to read. Enjoy! :) -Thorne

**********************************************************************

***Chapter Six***

He was uncomfortable. He was extremely uncomfortable under the scrutiny of his brothers and father, and yet she looked like she was over the moon as she laughed at another dumb joke Dick told. And he didn’t know what he was more unnerved by, the fact that she’d lied straight through her teeth about what she did for a living like it was the easiest thing in the world, or that his family of “Master Detectives” couldn’t figure out that the twenty-eight-year-old freelance artist was actually a ten-thousand-year-old vampire from another dimension—some detectives they were.

Jason watched as she grabbed the silver fork again and took a bite of the cheese souffle appetizer that Alfred had prepared for dinner. He worried about the contact of silver on her skin. None of the jewelry or silverware in her home was silver, in fact, nothing in her home was silver. It was either bronze or gold. She’d mentioned that prolonged exposure to silver would cause a rash and even if she were older than most vampires, and well-weathered against many of the things that would seriously wound younger ones, he knew it had to be causing discomfort to her.

As she chewed silently, he leaned over, turning his head away so his family couldn’t see his lips moving and whispered, “Is your hand, okay?”

She pressed a hand to her mouth as she swallowed and nodded. “I’m alright,” she replied too-cheerfully for his liking. “Thank you for asking.”

“Is something wrong, (Y/N)?” Dick questioned and they both looked at him.

She smiled and shook her head. “Oh no, I’m alright. I just had a bit of a…womanly pain before I came here earlier.” She sipped her wine. “Jason had some ibuprofen in his glove compartment and gave it to me.” Leaning over, she pressed her lips to his cheekbone, leaving a dark, wine red lip print. “He’s just worried about me.”

While his brothers snickered, Jason glared at his plate, incapable of stopping the crimson spreading over his cheeks. “You’re gonna pay for this later,” he muttered under his breath and she merely smiled in return.

“So, Richard—”

“Please, (Y/N),” he grinned. “Call me Dick.”

“Of course. Jason told me you used to work at the Blüdhaven Police Department. I remember the talent you possessed while working for Haly’s Circus.” Her eyes bore into his and Jason was slightly worried they’d see the auburn behind the green contact lenses. “Did you ever consider a career in gymnastics? I’m sure someone as talented as you could’ve been an Olympic gymnast.”

Dick nodded, setting down his glass of water. “I did compete in some tournaments growing up, but I guess I’ve always had the desire to serve the public. Guess BPD was the closest I could get.”

(Y/N) smiled wholeheartedly at him. “A noble desire, indeed, Dick. I’ve no doubt the family around you is proud of your accomplishments.” His cheeks tinted pink, and he looked down at his plate, murmuring a quiet ‘thank you’, and she glanced at Tim.

“Jason’s spoken quite a lot about you as well, Timot—Tim. He says when Bruce isn’t working at Wayne Enterprises, you act as the CEO.”

Tim glanced up from the souffle, cheeks stuffed, and immediately flushed as he swallowed the food in his mouth. “Uh, yes. I do.” He coughed a bit. “It’s, uh, no big deal.”

Her eyes widened and she leaned forward a bit. “No big deal? That company has so many different branches and subsidiaries! You say no big deal but keeping track of every one is a feat all on its own!” (Y/N) shot him a knowing look and winked. “I bet you’re wicked smart though, hmm? Genius level and you could do it with your eyes closed, can’t you?”

He didn’t say anything, but the small curve of his lips told her all she needed to know, and when she turned her gaze on Damian, he simply rolled his eyes. “Is it my turn for the foolish flattery?” he deadpanned, and Jason gripped the edge of the table.

“Be nice,” he warned darkly and (Y/N) inconspicuously rested her hand on his thigh, squeezing gently.

“I guess you saw through me, huh Damian?” she questioned, and he scoffed, slouching enough in his chair to tell her he was bored.

“Richard isn’t a career cop and Timothy works with Lucius who is the actual CEO.” His evergreen eyes narrowed. “Even you would scrape the barrel for those compliments.”

When Jason’s thigh started tensing, she tightened her grip and smirked. “Rapiers or katanas?”

“Katanas,” he glared. “Cutlasses or scimitars?”

“Cutlass,” (Y/N) replied. “Easier to use in close quarters.”

“Hand to hand mastery?”

“I’d like to say I can hold my own but I’m certain you’d wipe the floor with me,” she teased, and he smirked for a split second then it was gone.

“One last question,” he muttered. “Cats or dogs?”

(Y/N) leaned forward and whispered, “Why limit yourself to just the two?”

For a moment they simply stared at each other, then Damian glanced at Jason. “She’s acceptable.”

“Happy to get your approval,” Jason griped, and she patted his thigh quietly.

“Well, Ifor one am happy to have it,” she finalized, and shifted when Alfred pulled the souffle out of her way and placed down the main course. “Thank you, Mister Alfred.”

He smiled warmly at her. “You’re most welcome, Miss (Y/N).” he placed the other dishes around the table, explaining, “Tonight’s dish is grilled pheasant with a juniper berry and rosemary sauce, accompanied by roasted potatoes and brussels sprouts.”

She watched the others pick up their forks and start eating but her hesitance kept her from it. Juniper wasn’t poisonous to her, but it would weaken her considerably to the effects of fire. She could feel her lungs begin to tighten as she stared at the grilled bird drizzled in the burgundy sauce. All she had to do was pick up her fork and put it in her mouth and smile through it, but she couldn’t manage to do it.

“Never had pheasant before, (Y/N)?”

Her head shot up and she gaped at Bruce who had a knowing look as he cut into it with his knife. “What?” she said, just shy of shocked.

He chuckled. “The first time Alfred made this, I wouldn’t eat it because it smelled funny.” Bruce’s steely blue eyes found hers and he smiled. “I promise it tastes better than it smells.”

(Y/N) gave him a tight smile and nodded. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be awkward.”

“No worries, Miss (Y/N),” Alfred replied. “I would be alright with making you something else, if you wish.”

He started reaching for her plate and her eyes widened as she shook her head. “What? No!” the family stared at her and she felt her cheeks warm. She inhaled and cleared her throat. “Please don’t, Mister Alfred, I’ll eat it.”

(Y/N) cut into it quickly and stuck a piece in her mouth, ignoring the burning sensation rolling over her tongue as she chewed, and down her throat as she swallowed.

She let her eyes widen again and she made a show of gaping at the plate then back to him. “Oh wow! That’s fantastic!” she huffed a laugh an embarrassed laugh. “Of course, I’d be worried about something I never tried.”

Alfred chuckled, as did the others, though Jason knew something was wrong by the way she winced with every bite, but he didn’t voice his concern for fear of letting them know her secret.

***

(Y/N) stifled a yawn behind her hand and he glanced over. “Tired?”

She nodded. “Just a bit, but I’m alright.”

Jason shook his head. “We can go to bed if we want.”

“But the house is—oh you mean stay here?” she questioned, and he nodded. “But I don’t want to put anyone out.”

“You’re more than welcome to stay here, (Y/N),” Bruce said. “I’d be a horrible father and host if I said get out.”

Laughing, she nodded her head and met Jason’s eyes. “Are you?” He nodded and started pushing back his chair.

“We’re gonna go to bed,” he commented, holding out his hand to her.

She took it and stood to her feet, pushing in her chair behind her, then she looked at his family. “Thank you for inviting me for dinner. It and the conversation were wonderful.” The others smiled and waved, watching as Jason led her out of the dining room and down the hall.

When they were far enough away, he spun around and took her face in his hands. “Are you okay?”

(Y/N) shook her head. “I need to get to a bathroom. I’m going to be sick.”

Jason nodded and pulled her up the stairs. “My bedroom is on the farthest end of the manor. No one will hear you.” He shot a worried look back at her. “What was it?”

“The juniper sauce,” she groaned, putting the back of her hand to her mouth as her stomach churned uncomfortably. “It weakens my ability to resist fire.” She suddenly stopped, leaning against the wall, and Jason gaped as her skin flushed with red swirls, all the way from her face to her toes.

He wasted no time, immediately picking her up in his arms as he all but sprinted to his bedroom, shoving the door open with his hip. (Y/N) saw the bathroom in the corner of the room and rolled out of his arms, almost gliding to the bathroom—he barely saw her move, like flash steps—in one place one moment in another the next.

She slammed the door behind her, and he closed his bedroom door as he heard the toilet seat shove open, and she began retching. Jason felt terrible as he locked the door and made his way to the bathroom, listening to her. He also felt very disturbed because he’d never heard such violent convulsing.

“Are you okay, (Y/N)?” he worried. “Can I do anything?”

A low groan followed by another round of vomiting sounded from inside and she grunted, “I’d ask for—ngh—clean blood but…but I just have to—oh Divines—ride out the effect.”

Jason didn’t like that answer. “Give me something to do, doll. I feel horrible.”

“It’s not your—ugh—fault, darling,” she hissed. “Just—just get in bed and wait for me.”

(Y/N) went silent after that and he was still beside himself about her, but at least she wasn’t puking anymore, and Jason heaved a sigh, moving away from the door to sit on the bed, eyes still trained on the bathroom.

***

It was almost three full hours before the bedroom door opened and he shot up, eyes wide but still hazy from sleep. Jason hadn’t realized he’d fallen asleep.

(Y/N) thrust a thumb back towards the bathroom. “I borrowed an extra toothbrush and your mouthwash,” she muttered. “I hope you don’t mind.”

He shook his head, holding out his arms and she walked to him, letting him wrap them around her legs as she rested her hands on his shoulders.

“Are you feeling better now?” he questioned, eyebrows pulled in concern and she offered a smile that looked a lot like a grimace.

“I’d prefer to avoid any flames for the time being, but yes, I’m much better now.”

Jason lowered his head. “I’m so sorry, (Y/N). I didn’t know that juniper was poisonous to you.”

This time she did smile as she crawled into his lap, letting him bury his face in her shoulder. “You didn’t know, Jason.”

“I should’ve,” he mumbled, words muffled against her sweater. “I should know by now what’s going to harm you.”

(Y/N) sighed and pulled back, stifling a giggle when he whined from the loss of contact. “Look at me, Jason,” she murmured, and he did albeit shamefully. “I can be harmed by anything that you can be. Gunshots, stab wounds, physical attacks,” she shrugged. “Food is not so much a touchy subject. The things that make me ill are far, few, and in between.”

She placed a hand on his cheek. “It just so happens that juniper is one of those things, but it’s not your fault and neither is it anyone else’s. Things just happen sometimes.”

He took a moment to absorb her words, then he asked quietly, “…Are you sure you’re feeling better?”

(Y/N) gazed at him, and something in her eyes made his body flush with desire and she suddenly grinned. “I can show you if you’d like?” Rather than waiting for a response, she slipped off his lap and sunk to her knees in front of him and Jason’s legs automatically spread to accommodate her. She giggled. “I guess you know where this is going, darling?”

“I think and I very much hope it is,” he agreed, heart fluttering, watching with enjoyment as she placed her hands on his thighs and shoved them farther.

“Take your pants off,” she commanded lowly, and Jason was scrambling for his belt buckle, then shimmying out of his jeans. (Y/N) gave an amused hum. “I’ve half a mind to make a joke about how obedient you are.”

“You’re a woman worthy of my obedience, (Y/N),” he replied simply before stripping his shirt staring down at her on her knees for him.

She chuckled and biting at his thigh. “I’m worthy of a lot,” she retorted. “Much more when I was back in my homeland.”

“Did you sit on a throne and rule over the people?” he questioned, grunting when she dug her fingers underneath the seam of his boxers.

(Y/N) leaned up, lips brushing his ear as she whispered, “Oh darling, I was the most powerful being alive. There was nothing I didn’t have.” She shoved him back so that he was propped up on his elbows and she pressed kisses to his chest, nipping her way down his body until she got to his groin.

Jason was already hard, and she curled her fingers in his boxers and tugged them down and off when he lifted his hips. She took his length in her hand and gave him a tug, smirking when his hips jumped, a grunt escaping him, then she stilled, and he gaped at her.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, voice straining as he barely kept himself from thrusting into her grip.

“Oh, I’m simply waiting for you to tell me what you want.” (Y/N) responded with a pleasant smile and he scowled.

“Isn’t that a little obvious?” he retorted, inhaling when she nipped at his thigh.

“What? You mean the way your cock is standing at attention for me?” she rolled her eyes “I had no idea.”

Jason growled and cocked a leg up, nudging her behind. “I want your mouth, (Y/N).”

“Say please,” she cooed, shifting her hand so she could run her thumb up the thick vein that ran the length of him.

He groaned and briefly shut his eyes as she applied pressure. “Please, (Y/N).”

“Just a little more, darling,” she murmured, nipping the juncture of his thigh and pelvis.

“(Y/N), please, put those pretty lips on my cock and suck me,” he begged, and Jason’s eyes went wide when she obeyed, taking his head in her mouth. “Fuck,” he cursed, expression contorting with pleasure as she dipped her tongue into his slit, her hand starting to move on his length.

She hummed and his back arched as the vibrations went straight through his cock, then she flattened her tongue and took him into her mouth as far as she could.

“Oh shit, (Y/N),” he breathed, and shifted one of his arms, curling his hand around her head. Jason groaned as her jaw went slack and he tugged her, watching her head bob up and down.

Hollowing her cheeks, she pulled back and kept his head in her mouth while her hand slicked up and down his cock.

“(Y/N),” he purred, and she met his teal eyes. “Touch yourself for me, doll.” He let out a moan when he saw her free hand disappear between her thighs. Jason couldn’t see but when he heard her muffled gasp and felt her knees spread, hitting his ankles, he knew she was.

“Are your fingers inside?” he questioned, and she hummed, bobbing her head as she pushed her digits in herself. “Imagining my cock instead?”

Her eyes found his and he saw the desire clouded with irritation—Jason did get cocky when it came to sex. (Y/N) lifted her head and swirled her tongue around the head of his length, sucking sharply and his hips jerked, as he let out a startled moan.

“Right there, doll. Right there.” Jason moved his hand and cupped her cheek, pressing his thumb against his head when it poked the side of her mouth. “I wanna know what lucky bastard you practiced on to get this good,” he praised. “Fuck, your mouth is talented.” She smirked around his cock and tongued his slit again. “I’m gonna come of you keep doing that, doll.”

He immediately realized that was horrible to tell her because with her track record, she would’ve started teasing him, but evidently, she wasn’t in the mood too because she did it again. And again. And again. Until Jason’s hips were rising off the bed and he was whimpering quiet little, “Yes, yes, yeses.”

And the warmth spread across her tongue, bitter, but she groaned and swallowed him, all the while Jason’s eyes were screwed shut, toes curling as the tightness in his gut suddenly snapped.

(Y/N) pulled away when he moaned lowly and he watched her press her cheek to his thigh, staring up at him with glazed eyes as she panted and he reached down, caressing her cheek.

“You did so well, doll. It’s your turn, please.” He pleaded, thumbing her lip and she took it in her mouth, sucking it. Jason’s gut stirred again, and he begged, “Come on your fingers, (Y/N). All over them. Come for me.”

He watched her go still, then shudder with a pitched whine against his leg before she collapsed against him with a heavy breath. They caught their beath, then she rose and climbed onto the bed, lying beside him.

For a moment, they were silent, then he commented, “That was incredible.”

(Y/N) giggled and turned her head, kissing his shoulder. “Tell me about it.”

She sighed, feeling sleep calling to her and he murmured, “Tired?”

“A bit,” she answered. “I might be more resistant to things because of my age, but I definitely notice that I recover slower.” She shimmied out of her pants and sweater before crawling up to the covers.

Jason followed, slipping underneath with her, and he pulled (Y/N) into his arms, lifting the sheet and comforter over them.

“Sleeping it off can’t hurt, huh?”

She snorted halfheartedly, already feeling her eyelids drooping as she propped her head on his shoulder, nose brushing against his neck. “That’s how I’ve dealt with…a lot of my problems.”

He chuckled. “Same here, doll.” Jason kissed her forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you more,” (Y/N) murmured, and he felt her breathing even out against his throat moments later.

***Chapter Seven***

The werewolf hadn’t shown up in a month, and while the citizens of Gotham had celebrated by returning to the nightlife, like the idiots they were, Jason and his family knew otherwise that it was still out there, waiting for another hunt. At least, that’s what (Y/N) had told him, and he believed her more than anything though even she herself was concerned about how quiet the nights had become, and he’d gotten more than comfortable patrolling with her following close behind in the shadows, usually invisible to avoid detection.

Jason knew she was using him as bait for the Lycan, waiting for it, to see if it would try attacking him. Had it been anyone other than her, he would’ve said hell no, but he knew (Y/N) was always watching him and his surroundings, and there was no one he trusted more to watch his six than her.

That being said, she wasn’t with him that night, a call from one of the council members had finally come and she’d stayed behind to discuss a course of action, leaving Jason to patrol his portion of the city alone. He was fine alone but (Y/N) insisted that Nevermore come with him just in case; he agreed when she shot him that firm glare and he couldn’t help but cave, sighing when the raven pecked at his helmet, sitting atop his shoulder pads.

***

Jason stood on the ledge of the clocktower, staring out at the large expanse of city before him. Usually, he knew where to start but right now he kept running the “If-I-Were-Blank-Where-Would-I-Hide?” question, wondering where a werewolf would be—it wasn’t in the sewers, they’d checked multiple times.

He sighed just as the sound of boots came behind him and he glanced over his shoulder, seeing Nightwing and Red Robin coming his way. “Hey,” he muttered, going back to the city.

“You’ve been up here for like thirty minutes, Hood. The city isn’t going to patrol itself.” Nightwing commented. “Something on your mind?”

He shrugged. “Trying to think where it’s hiding.”

“The werewolf?” Red Robin questioned, though it sounded rhetorical.

“Yeah,” he replied. “All this city space and one giant beast. You’d think we’d be able to find it.”

“Maybe it got shot with a silver bullet?” Nightwing offered. “Or taken up by animal control?”

Red Robin snickered but Jason merely raised his arm and whistled, waiting while his brothers stared at him like he had three heads.

A low croak sounded above, and they watched as the raven fluttered and perched on his wrist. “Find anything?” he asked it and the bird turned its head and shook it. “Damn,” Jason cursed and fished around in his pocket for a treat. “Keep a lookout would you, bud?” The raven cawed and took off into the night sky once more.

“Was that a crow?” Nightwing asked, blinking in shock and Jason bristled.

“He’s a raven. Name’s Nevermore.”

“Where’d you find a trained raven?” Red Robin quizzed with wonder.

Jason glanced at him. “He’s (Y/N)’s.”

Nightwing’s jaw went slack. “She’s—she’s got a raven?”

“And a wolfdog, two cats, and a Neapolitan Mastiff named Fang.” He looked at his eldest brother. “The little demon-spawn would keel over if he met them.”

“Wait, if Nevermore’s (Y/N)’s raven…and he’s with you…does that mean…?” Red Robin trailed off and Jason nodded.

“Yeah, she figured out pretty quick actually,” he remarked. “She’s a lot more than what she lets on.”

“What? Is she like us?” Nightwing joked, Red Robin cackling along and Jason turned his head.

“(Y/N) outclasses every one of us. Especially Bruce. In every way. And I’m not saying that because I’m her boyfriend. I’m saying it as warrior who knows she’s my better.” It was all he said before diving off the ledge, shouting, “Have fun patrolling your sectors, losers!”

***

It had come out of nowhere during the evening and knocked him out of mid-grapple before he’d even realized what it was. Jason rolled along the rooftop a couple times before he slammed into the barrier with a pained grunt. Gravel scattered across the roof and he looked up, seeing the werewolf hunched over on all fours, saliva dripping from its jowls as it growled, and he felt his stomach clench in fear.

“Ah crap,” he hissed quietly and slowly got to his feet, all the while the beast started edging towards him.

A sharp cry echoed above and stupidly, he looked up to see Nevermore. It was all the time the creature needed, lurching forward with a snarl.

Jason brought his arm up as the werewolf’s clawed hand came down at him. It tore through his brown leather jacket like it was a wet napkin, and he thanked God that (Y/N) had taken it upon herself to reforge most of his body-armor plates because when the creature’s nails raked across his wrist guard, it sparked viciously, but didn’t shear.

He cocked his leg out and hit the beast in the stomach as hard as he could, shouting, “Nevermore! Go get her!”

Another cry sounded above, and Jason prayed that he had the strength to hold out as the Lycan came back his way.

***

She rubbed at her temples and resisted the urge to slam her head into the wall for what seemed like the millionth time. “I know, Alexander,” she griped. “I know what the council designations are. I fucking wrote them. What I want to know is when are you imbeciles going to contact the Lycan Alliance Colony in Virginia so we can figure out who the hell is in Gotham.”

The vampire on the line sighed. It’s not that simple, (Y/N), and you know it.

“Not that sim—Alexander, all you have to do is pick up the fucking phone and contact the chambers. Then you meet and acknowledge the problem and contact the LAC in Virginia. How hard is that?”

It’s time consuming, (Y/N). We’ve already got—

“WE ARE IMMORTAL! WE HAVE ALL THE TIME IN THE WORLD!” (Y/N) screeched. “I CANNOT KILL THIS WEREWOLF UNTIL THE LCA IS CONTACTED AND INFORMED THEY’VE LOST ONE!” Her blood boiled. “INNOCENT PEOPLE AR BEING MURDERED, ALEXANDER! I CANNOT WAIT FOREVER!” Silence was all she heard for a moment after her tirade.

I will contact Lady Heady and Lord Bartholomew and see what we can fit into our schedules.

(Y/N) bit her tongue so hard it bled and before she could speak, something flapped against her living room window, frantic squawking following. She put the phone down, ignoring the vampire’s calls and opened the window, gaping at Nevermore who was still cawing wildly.

“Nevermore!” she shouted, trying to calm him. “It’s alright! What’s the matter?”

He hopped repeatedly along the window ledge and croaked, pointing his beak back towards where he’d flown and she bent forward, smelling his feathers—its blunt scent invaded her senses and she recoiled with a hiss.

“Where is it?” (Y/N) demanded, deathly quiet.

Nevermore answered her with a squawk and she grabbed the window ledge, her skin turning that dark gargoyle shade as her fingernails grew, scratching the wooden frame, and her eyes glowed a bright crimson.

***

Jason’s back hit the edge of the roof, knocking the wind out of him, and he collapsed into the gravel. He pitched forward, catching himself on his hands while he coughed harshly, blood splattering across the rocks. His left arm had already gone numb from blocking every swipe and his right leg was bleeding in three different places; he was sure he’d broken multiple ribs too; maybe his sternum, but in the grand scheme of things, Jason was lucky the werewolf hadn’t disemboweled him yet.

A growl made his head cock up and his breathing stuttered as the beast came around for another swipe. He tried to climb to his feet, but he couldn’t. He’d wasted way too much stamina blocking and waiting the fight out, and now he had nothing left. His body was too tired to keep moving. He was going to get ripped to shreds all the while mentally aware.

Jason’s eyes went wide as it got within striking distance, and a blur of gray overtook his vision and the most vicious snarl he’d ever heard filled his ears. He watched as the blur suddenly expanded and in the light of the city, he saw the full-bodied, gray wings stretched out before him. He thought it was Bruce at first. The points of the wings were sharp and black, and Jason saw the muscled legs beneath them, just as he looked up and saw the white-haired head snarl again, baring its razor-sharp teeth.

His eyes darted to the werewolf who was coming back to strike. The creature let it come, dodging the arm before it struck back, a single slash with its long, black-clawed hand and the beast recoiled with a cry of pain, bright red blood flowing down its face. The clawed hand dropped something, and Jason gaped as one of the werewolf’s yellow eyeballs bounced; it was quickly squashed into mush by the creature who screeched one last time and the Lycan turned tail and fled, outmatched, and wounded.

When it was clear, the winged being turned and Jason shifted back just a hair as he came face to face with the ashen gray creature. His breath caught in his throat as he took in the facial features, gaunt skin pulled taut over high cheekbones, nose flat and pointed with wide nostrils, brow bone full over its eerie crimson eyes. His gaze lowered to the thin-lipped, open mouth and he stared at the pointed teeth and canines.

“Jason,” it boomed, voice like thunder, and knelt, clawed hands reaching out. He wanted to move away but couldn’t, and when the ice-cold palm touched his cheek and its eyes narrowed in what looked like concern, suddenly he realized.

“(Y/N)?” he whispered, and she nodded, placing her other palm to his cheek.

“I got here as soon as Nevermore called,” she replied, then looked down his body. “Divines, Jason. We—I have to get you somewhere safe.” She moved, one arm curling under his legs, the other his back and she lifted him like he weighed nothing.

He let his head rest on the frigid gold metal covering her shoulder, but it was nothing compared to the relief he felt now that he was safe. “Held out as long as I could,” he groaned, and she stepped up onto the ledge before spreading her wings out.

“You did well, darling,” she praised. “I’m proud of you despite my fear.”

Her voice sounded so distorted from its usual one, but Jason wasn’t bothered—this was still (Y/N), just another form. She took off the ledge in the opposite direction of her home and he inhaled sharply when he went weightless, her heavy wings beating around them.

“I have you, Jason. You will not fall,” (Y/N) affirmed. “Rest darling, you will need it.”

Far be it from him to disobey a request like that, especially with how exhausted he was, and the last thing he remembered was comforting beat of her wings, and the soothing timbre of her voice.

***

The sound of calmly running water woke him and when he came to, Jason felt like he was laying on a bed of stone. When he turned his head and looked beside him, he realized he was laying on a bed of stone. With a groan, he pushed himself up and glanced down at his body as the blanket covering him fell down. He was still in his undergarments, but he had no stiches or scars and he wondered if (Y/N) had used her magic to heal him this time.

At the thought of her he looked around, eyes widening at the amazement surrounding him. He sat on a stone bed surrounded by ankle deep water in the middle of what looked like a natural waterfall. Ivy grew along the walls of the cavern and he saw the moon shining on him from a hole in the ceiling. It felt like one of those ethereal places you only ever dreamed of discovering.

Drawing his eyes down, he saw (Y/N) sitting at the end of the stone bed, no longer in her other form, her legs crossed beneath her, eyes closed. Her hands were resting on her knees, palms up and he watched the purple magic swirl between them, like the northern lights, and Jason took a moment to just gaze at her. She looked beautiful. Peacefully beautiful.

He reached for her. “(Y/N).”

Even though his voice was a whisper, her ember eyes snapped open, and the purple spell faded as she breathed, “You’re awake.”

Jason blinked. “I thought you were meditating or something?”

(Y/N) shook her head and inched forward so she could sit next to him. “I was spellcasting while you recovered.”

“What spell?”

“A life detection spell. I wanted to make sure nothing came here while you slept.” She raised a hand and brushed it through his hair before sighing, “Thank the Divines you’re alright. I—I was so scared when I got you here.” Her hand moved to his face, cupping his cheek.

Jason reached up and cradled her hand to his face. “Did something happen?”

“You had already slipped unconscious, and I was worried you were losing too much blood internally.” Her thumb twitched against his skin. “I pooled all my magic into my Restoration spells and healed you for the better part of two hours.” She gazed at him. “Are you hurting anywhere?”

He shook his head. “Nowhere, (Y/N). I feel great, in fact. Like I’ve lost aches I didn’t know I had.”

She returned his quip with a halfhearted smile. “Yes, that’s the power of Restoration healing.”

“But you don’t seem very happy about that.” He commented and she shook her head.

“You were almost murdered because I wasn’t with you and the werewolf got away.”

Jason wrapped his free arm around her waist and pulled her to him, laying back on the stone bed. She laid her cheek against his bare chest, her hand flat against his heart. “(Y/N), you got there in time. That’s all that matters to me,” he murmured as he rubbed her back.

“But you were hurt.”

“You healed me.”

“The werewolf still got away.”

“Then we’ll find it again,” he countered and propped his arm behind his head, gazing at her. “You scratched it’s eyeball out and it bled. There’s DNA on that rooftop we can use to track it with.” He smiled. “For someone who hasn’t done this in a while, you proved you’ve still got it.”

(Y/N) exhaled through her nose, but she cracked a smile. “Thank you, Jason.”

He hummed. “Always, doll.” He kneaded his fingers into her flesh, asking, “Did you learn anything when you were fighting it?”

“I did,” she said. “I’m falling on intuition here, but I think it’s feral.”

“Feral? Like wild?” Jason made a face. “They are wild werewolves?”

(Y/N) snorted. “Indeed, there are.” She propped her chin on his chest and looked at him. “Vampirism and Lycanthropy are quite different when it comes to actually being the creature you become. Vampires completely transform—we’re no longer humans. But werewolves are still humans, they just have the wolf spirit inside.”

“So what? They call on the spirit to transform?”

“Mhm. When you take on the wolf form for the first time you call on the wolf spirit, but some can’t separate the animal from themselves and eventually go feral. Trapped. Lost forever.”

His eyes narrowed like he was figuring something out. “Sounds like you’re speaking from personal experience.”

(Y/N) nodded. “At the time that I accepted the gift of vampirism, I was a werewolf, but Harkon’s blood purged it from my body.”

“The way you talk about him makes him seem like some overlord who was in power because he was the greatest vampire. Was he like a pureblood or something?”

She shook her head. “No. Harkon wasn’t a pureblood, but he did get his vampirism straight from Molag Bal and not another vampire like the ones in his court.”

Jason’s brows furrowed. “Who the hell is Molag Bal?”

Her mouth opened, then it snapped shut and she tipped her head side to side. “Okay, this won’t make sense unless I explain it completely.” He gestured for her to continue. “So, in my realm there are two types of deities which we worship. The first are called Aedra, which roughly translates to ‘our ancestors’, and they are essentially the Gods that created the lands and everything. In the most common pantheon, there are eight Aedra: Akatosh, Arkay, Dibella, Julianos, Kynareth, Mara, Stendarr, and Zenithar. Each correlate with some type of virtue: beauty, love, time, fortune, fortitude, you get the point.”

(Y/N) took a breath. “The second kind of deity are called Daedra and that translates to ‘not our ancestors’. They’re typically viewed as evil and worshiping them out in public is not a good idea. Daedra worshipers are very secretive about their beliefs for fear of persecution. I have witnessed it firsthand,” She admitted. “There are seventeen Daedric deities and they are: Azura, Boethiah, Clavicus Vile, Hermaeus Mora, Hircine, Jyggalag, Malacath, Mehrunes Dagon, Mephala, Meridia, Molag Bal, Namira, Nocturnal, Peryite, Sanguine, Sheogorath, and Vaermina.”

“Who did you worship out of both?”

“When it came to Aedra, I really only followed one deity and that was Akatosh. I was—am blessed with great power and called, ‘Dragonborn’. My body is normal, but my soul is that of a dragon. I can speak their tongue and do lots of other weird shit I’ll tell you later. But Akatosh divinely gifted me the soul and blood of a dragon so I hold him in reverence.”

“Is that why you always say ‘Divines’?” he questioned, and she nodded. “That explains a lot.”

(Y/N) snorted. “When it came to the Daedra however, it’s hard to exist in my realm and not at some point interact with them. They like messing with people, it’s…their nature to change things.” She tipped her head. “I’ve talked to them all, met four in person. I personally reverenced Azura, Meridia, Nocturnal, Sanguine, and sometimes Sheogorath, but honestly that fucker is balls to the walls crazy.”

Jason chuckled. “Sounds like he’d fit right in with Gotham.”

“Oh, he would, absolutely,” she agreed. “But, to answer your original question, Molag Bal is a Daedric Prince who is revered as the Lord of Domination and Enslavement. He is also the father of all vampires, though the first woman was…not a willing participant of the process.” He fell silent at her words. “He raped her and left her for dead. Legend has it that he shed one drop of blood on her brow and when a tribe found her, they tried to heal her, but she appeared to have died. They made her a funeral pyre and lit it.”

(Y/N) frowned. “She walked out of the flames as the first pureblooded vampire and in a fit of rage, slaughtered the nomads, ripping the women’s throats out, feasting on the children’s eyeballs, and raping the men.” Her voice quieted. “She became known as the first ‘Daughter of Coldharbour’.”

Her eyes found Jason’s and she could see the horror and revulsion within them; she didn’t blame him. “She is where vampirism descends from in my lands, unless Molag Bal grants it instead.”

Jason took a long moment to speak, and when he did, his voice was almost a whisper. “You said she was the first? Were…were there more?”

(Y/N) nodded. “A tradition grew amongst his worshippers where on his invocation day, the females of the cults would be offered to him. The women lucky enough to survive emerge as pureblood vampires and henceforth referred to as ‘Daughters of Coldharbour.” Her eyes darkened. “My friend, Serana, who was Harkon’s daughter…was one. As was her mother. They both were a part of the ceremony.”

“They did so willingly?”

She couldn’t help but shrug. “They were his followers and being selected to participate in the ritual was held in great honor and not something that was rejected lightly. Knowing Harkon…Serana and her mom didn’t have a choice but to accept it. Though Serana told me all I needed to know about the ceremony. It was degrading and agonizing, and she didn’t want to revisit it.”

They fell silent and Jason mulled a question on his tongue that he wasn’t sure if he wanted to ask or not until she whispered, “You can ask me whatever it is you wish to, Jason.”

His hand tightened on her back. “Did you…are you a…”

“A Daughter of Coldharbour?” he nodded, and she shook her head. “No. Even if Molag Bal had ever personally requested my presence I would never accept.” Her eyes darkened with a hatred so cold, Jason almost shivered. “If Daedric Princes could be killed, I’d’ve stomped into his domain and slaughtered him for everyone he’s hurt.”

(Y/N) stared into his eyes. “Are you relieved I’m not one?”

Jason’s expression filled with agony. “No, it’s…the thought that you could’ve endured such an event just…makes me—it makes me—”

She cut him off by leaning up and pressing a kiss to his lips. “I know,” she murmured. “I know Jason…and thank you.”

Pulling away enough to gaze at her, he breathed, “I love you, (Y/N). More than you will ever know.”

“I love you most,” she promised, resting her head back on his chest. “Rest, darling. We can both still rest until the morning.”

***Chapter Eight***

Jason hadn’t spoken to Bruce about the incident with the werewolf, knowing that it would also involve (Y/N)’s secret too. Instead, they both started their own tracking of the Lycan in addition to the normal route patrolling. Apparently as well, in her haste to get to him that night, she’d grabbed a bottle of wolfsbane too and applied it to her claws. Its healing capabilities would be slowed down considerably, and she’d assured Jason that the wound she’d given it would take at least a month of healing meaning they’d have some time to do more tracking.

It also happened that the monthlong wait fell in time with Bruce’s annual Wayne Charity Gala, and while Jason had been planning on inviting (Y/N) to it, the continual pestering from his brothers almost made him keep his mouth shut and skip it entirely. They were just as captivated by her as he was—he wasn’t sure how to feel about that, but the night was young, and (Y/N)’d yet to arrive.

***

He sipped the golden champagne from his chute and ignored the urge to cold cock Dick who was practically stuck to his side.

“C’mon, Jason!” he whined. “Please tell me you invited (Y/N)!”

Following the crowd silently, he waited patiently for her head to pop in the crowd.

“Richard, you are embarrassing yourself and the family,” Damian muttered. “Todd invited her. Relax.”

“Or he didn’t because we scared her off,” Tim remarked, grinning when Jason’s gaze narrowed at the statement.

Of course, that set Dick off again and after the fifth whine, Jason reached over and gripped his eldest brother’s bowtie, crumpling it and his collar in a white-knuckle grab as he hissed, “For the last time, she’s coming. Now quit fucking badgering me and go do something useful with your useless self before I lose my goddamn patience and shove this chute up yours.”

Dick choked slightly, grinning, “Think that’ll fit up my chute?” His brothers snickered and Jason glared and let him go. He straightened out his collar and bowtie. “Just making sure you did, Little-wing.”

“Why?” Jason quizzed, exasperation evident in his tone as he glared at him. “Last time I checked, (Y/N)’s my girlfriend.”

“Well yeah,” Dick started, glancing around the room. “But we’ve only seen her that once and you haven’t brought…her…” he trailed off, jaw slacking, and he slapped the back of his hand against Jason’s chest. “Jason,” Dick breathed. “Look.”

Jason followed his brother’s gaze to the main entrance of the event and suddenly, his brother’s odd mood shift made sense because he too went slack jawed as (Y/N) stepped into the ballroom, head high and shoulders squared like she the main event herself.

(Y/N) wore a strapless gown that looked like she pulled it straight out of Gone With The Wind, red fabric and black laced up to her chest where it split across and around her arms. There were little gold chains dangling from the arm cuffs and she wore elbow length black silk gloves.

He trailed his eyes up her bare collarbones to her face and neck where she had a black velvet choker wrapped tight around her neck, a garnet the size of his pinky resting in a gold plate, dangling off it. Her lips were a deep wine red, and her eyelids were painted elegantly with black and gold eyeshadow, topped off with perfectly drawn eyeliner and dramatic eyelashes.

Everyone in the room was spellbound by her and Jason’s feet were moving before he knew what was happening, heading straight to her. She saw him coming and her dark lips split into a pearly white smile, making his knees go weak and he almost fell at her feet. Not that that seemed like a terrible idea because from the glares of the women and the hot-eyed stares from the men around, he wasn’t the only one who wanted to drop to his knees and worship her. Something tight pooled in his gut at the thought.

(Y/N) held out her hand and watched with amusement as he took it and pressed his lips to her knuckles. “Good boy,” she murmured, and he felt that tightness again as he pulled away.

“(Y/N), you look…” he shook his head, unable to find the words.

“Beautiful?” she offered, and Jason swallowed.

“That and everything more,” he whispered, and she laughed, sending shivers down his spine.

“I’d love to hear them all, darling.” She stepped towards him and grazed his cheek with the back of her hand before sealing his lips in a kiss that had his whole body flushing as gasps echoed around them. But he didn’t give a damn—he was too busy being seduced by the woman in front of him.

(Y/N) pulled away and smirked at the look on his face. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten how to speak, Jason.”

He chuckled and held his arm out for her to take. “Not just yet, doll. But something tells me I will tonight.”

“Count on it,” she winked and rested her palm on his wrist, allowing him to escort her around.

“Everyone is staring at you,” he murmured as they walked towards his family. “I think it’s the dress.”

She didn’t make the show of glancing down, but she hummed. “You said formal, and this was as formal as I have.”

“Really? A corset and a period gown?”

“Don’t act like it doesn’t make you want to bend me over a table, darling. I saw your eyes when you gaped at me,” she retorted with a smile and he huffed.

“You saw that?”

“The way you lost all control of your facial features and body? Oh yes. I saw it all.”

Jason grunted though a smile was on his face as they met his family. “Mock my attraction to you at your own peril, (Y/N),” he threatened lowly, and she giggled.

“Oh, I tremblewith fear, darling,” she murmured, then lifted her hand for Bruce to take. “Bruce, it’s a pleasure to see you again. You look wonderful tonight.”

He chuckled and kissed her hand. “And you look radiant, (Y/N). I think you outshine us all.”

Her laugh was like tinkling chimes and she smiled at Dick who took her hand and kissed it too before tugging her forward just a bit. “Would you care to dance, (Y/N)?” he asked. “Someone as elegantly dressed as you must obviously know how to waltz as well.”

She shot a look at Jason who appeared to be fuming and if looks could’ve killed, Dick would’ve been dead and buried. “I’d love to dance, Dick,” she replied, letting him lead her to the dance floor.

“You look absolutely beautiful, (Y/N),” he flirted. “And all I’m really doing right now is seeing how pissed I can make Jason, so if you’d smile or laugh and play along, I’d love you forever and ever.”

(Y/N) giggled and he twirled them. “You are going to get punched in the face, you know that right?”

Dick smirked and leaned close into her ear. “Yeah, but it’s going to be so worth it.” He spun them again, so she was looking over his shoulder. “Look at him. He’s so jealous he’s practically spitting like an angry bull.”

She inconspicuously glanced in her lover’s direction and gave a rather unladylike snort at the sight. Jason stood beside Bruce with his fists clenched, jaw tight and she could see him grinding his teeth as his eyes narrowed on them.

“Hmm…I wonder who he’s going to be more upset with? Me or you?”

They glanced at each other and she said “Me” while Dick said “You”, then they both dissolved into laughter and she pressed her forehead against his shoulder to muffle her giggles.

As the song ended, they separated and Dick bowed while she curtsied and someone came up and said, “Pardon me, may I have this dance?”

Just as (Y/N) turned to excuse herself, a strong arm wrapped around her waist and tugged her backwards and she let out a quiet gasp as her back collided with someone’s equally strong chest. Turning her head, she saw Jason glaring daggers at both Dick and the new dancer.

“Fuck. Off.” he spat, and he watched the two scatter like they’d been shot.

“Darling,” (Y/N) purred, raising her hand to caress his jaw. “Don’t be so green.” Jason’s turquoise eyes lowered to hers and her stomach fluttered from the heated stare.

“I don’t want any other man touching you,” he growled, and she smirked.

“Trying to say I belong to you?”

His arm tightened around her waist. “Like I do to you.”

(Y/N) merely gazed at him before extending her arm across his chest, raising the other beside her breasts, whispering, “Tell me you have a song just for us, darling?”

Jason’s arm shifted to her hip as his free one took her hand in his larger one, giving her a heated stare. “Of course I do, doll. I think you’ll enjoy it.”

The music started and he took the first step, leading her and she barely managed to contain her startled laugh. “The Vampire Masquerade? Really, Jason?”

His lips brushed her ear as he pressed just behind and he murmured, “It’s fitting, don’t you think?” he spun her out and pulled her back, wrapping his arm around her waist as she placed hers on his shoulder.

“Fitting indeed,” she flirted. “But awfully bold to play in front of all these people.”

Jason stepped forwards and her backwards and as they danced, he said, “I like to think I’m bold about the woman I love.”

It felt like hours in just mere moments when the music began to pick up again, signaling the climax of the song and he inhaled deeply as her eyes narrowed in amusement, and suddenly they were twirling, each spin moving them faster and faster across the dancefloor. All eyes were on them, but they simply gazed into each other’s eyes.

“I’ve been thinking about something, (Y/N),” he said lowly.

She nodded. “Go on.”

“It’s about vampirism and…the idea of joining you.”

(Y/N)’s footing failed her, and she stumbled as the song ended on the final note of the cello, her eyes wide. “What?”

Jason glanced at the party then behind him towards the door leading down the steps to the garden. He turned and pulled her along, through the crowd and into the night. They hurried through the maze of bushes and ended up beneath a willow tree in the far corner of the grounds, the moon and stars hanging overhead. She didn’t know where to start and neither did he apparently, but she figured they had to do it somewhere and she stepped just out of reach.

“What you said in there, Jason…at the end?”

He glanced at her, gaze solemn. “Believe me when I say, I know it sounds crazy, but I’ve been thinking about this for a while now, (Y/N).”

She inhaled deeply, taking in his words and she turned away, looking out at the garden. “Have you told your family about me?”

“No. Not just yet. I was waiting until you were ready.”

(Y/N) tipped her head side to side. “While I thank you for doing so, I don’t think this is a decision to make until we’ve revealed everything to them.”

“Why’s that?” Jason questioned, brows furrowing in confusion and she spun slowly.

“Jason, vampirism is a…a lifechanging transformation. Not just for the individual but for the people around them as well.” She shook her head. “No, I don’t think this conversation should be had right now until we tell your family the truth.”

He took her words in stride and reached out for her. She placed her hand in his and he took her into his arms, resting his chin on her head. “Would you want me to join you?”

(Y/N) was silent for a long time, then she murmured, “…More than anything Jason. But you’ve yet to really grasp the concept and all it entails.”

“What do you mean?”

“Vampirism isn’t just extended life and protection from disease and poison, darling. It’s…it’s watching every human in your life grow old and die while you remain young forever. It’s remembering every detail that plagues history while the books get it wrong. It’s watching the world go by while you remain frozen as you are.”

She pulled back to stare into his eyes. “Though I would love to be with you for all of time, I don’t want to witness your despair as you watched your family and friends pass on.”

Jason’s mouth opened then he closed it when he realized he didn’t have a thing to say, and she smiled knowingly. “Darling, we’ve all the time in the world to figure this out.” Raising a hand, she cupped his cheek. “Don’t decide on forever, right now.”

“But I want to be with you,” he insisted quietly, that firm look she loved dearly in his eyes again.

“And I you. But as I said, you still need to discuss this with them first.”

Whatever comeback he had was cut off by a croak and they both turned their heads upwards as a bird circled them.

“Nevermore?” she called, raising her arm and he flew down, perching on her wrist. “What’s a matter boy?” He squawked and (Y/N)’s gaze hardened. “Do you know where?” When he answered her, she lifted her arm. “Take flight and lead me,” she commanded already pulling from Jason’s arm to head for the thickly barred iron gate.

“(Y/N), what is it?” Jason asked and she spun on her heel, still heading to the gate.

“Nevermore saw the werewolf hunting the city.”

He was already moving back to the ballroom. “I’ll get the oth—”

“No.” she commanded, and he stopped, gaping at her as she said, “I will be the one to finish this tonight. And I alone.”

“(Y/N), you can’t be serious,” he argued, and she shot him a sharp stare.

“Jason. You almost died last time.” Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “I need to do this by myself.”

She was gone before he could say another word and he couldn’t help but stomp his foot into the ground and curse, “Shit.”

***

Finding it didn’t take long this time, less than two hours. Now that she had its scent, she had a straight path to it and even she was surprised at the location it was in—the same rooftop she’d fought it the first time on. She landed behind it and curled her wings around herself, watching as it sniffed around the rooftop.

“You’re not going to find your eye, Lycan,” she said, and it spun around, dropping to all fours as it snarled menacingly. (Y/N) merely gazed at it, taking in the pink scars across its face and the hollowed orbital socket. “Tell me who you are. I know your kind can speak in that form. Or are you feral?”

Again, it growled, and she tipped her chin up. “Couldn’t separate the man from the beast, hmm?” she challenged. “That happens when you’re weak and can’t control your own spirit.”

Something in her words set it off and it charged at her with a snarl. (Y/N) simply sidestepped when it came her way, safely avoiding the snapping jaw and it skidded in the gravel, spinning around to charge again.

“I would feel pity for you had you not murdered so many people.” Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “I bet you got cocky in whatever circle you were in. Thought you could handle the beast before you were trained well enough.”

The werewolf swiped at her, but she dodged each strike and sent back one of her own, slicing into its side like it was paper. Howling, the beast scampered back a bit.

“Who was it that gave you their blood to consume? Your friend? A lover? Or perhaps some younger, more naïve circle member?” She shot forward and shot her wing out, colliding with the wolf. “The worst kind of transformation is the kind where the participant is foolish and inexperienced.”

(Y/N) hissed when it bit at the flesh of her wing and she scratched its leg with the claws on her feet. “How many transformations were you in control? Three? And then you just lost all control as it took over and you couldn’t come back!”

She closed both wings then extended them with a powerful beat, knocking the werewolf back a few feet. Wasting no time, she pushed off with her foot and surged forward, one hand gripping the wolf’s neck, the other flat and pointed.

“Your curse ends tonight, Lycan.” (Y/N) struck out and felt the warmth bleed across her arm as she planted her hand in its chest. “May you find mercy in whatever plane you end up in.”

Yanking her hand back, its snarl died in its mouth and she let go, watching it fall to the ground, gurgling and bleeding before it stilled, going slack in the rocks. (Y/N) cast one last look at it then turned her eyes to the moon high in the night sky. Almost a whole year of chasing and searching for this werewolf and it’d taken less than an hour to end it.

“Such a waste,” she hissed and stepped away. “So many people murdered and—”

Something latched onto her back and she spun to see what it was when she felt it spread out and dig into her skin. She grunted and reached for whatever had pierced her when it shocked her violently.

(Y/N) screeched and spun around, reaching behind her but whatever it was, was too far down. It kept pulsing and each one got stronger after the other and as she stepped forwards, she suddenly tripped and collapsed onto the gravel. Looking down through the pain, she saw her legs tied together with some kind of tri-weave rope.

She reached down to cut it when another pulse split through her body and she bellowed, back arching, wings beating out. (Y/N) knew she had to get away and she crawled along her hands, dragging her tied legs towards the edge. She was almost there when another compressed shot came from behind and she found herself cocooned by her wings, shocks still pulsing her body.

Struggling, she screeched and hissed, hoping to scare off whatever it was when she heard, “I’ve got this.”

It sounded like Dick and before she could say anything, he pressed something against her spine and the worst of the electric shocks passed through her and she descended into darkness.

***Final Chapter***

When (Y/N) didn’t contact Jason within the few hours she had left, he started to worry. He started panicking when Nevermore didn’t come to find him either.

One of the great things about her house is that other than it being a magic house that was bigger on the inside, it was also enchanted, and people didn’t notice it, so she kept the door unlocked.

Jason burst through the door, startling Fang who had been sound asleep on the couch and part of him wanted to apologize but his concern overrode it. He sprinted through the house, shouting her name.

“(Y/N)!” he turned down the hall and ran to the studio. “Where are you!” it was empty and he cursed, checking both bedrooms before entering the study. She wasn’t there either.

The only place she could be was in the basement and he moved back to the hall closet, pulling the door open. Jason yanked the rug away from the hatch and propped it up, getting on his hands and knees to yell down.

“(Y/N)! Are you down there!” he waited, voice echoing down the ladder and through the basement. “(Y/N)!”

A growl sounded beside him and he looked over, seeing White-Fang staring at him.

He reached over and ran a hand through his haunches. “Buddy, where is she?”

The wolfdog merely blinked and turned his snout into Jason’s wrist.

“She went after it, White-Fang. She went after it and I didn’t go with her and now she’s nowhere to be found.” His gazed at him. “What do I do?”

White-Fang bared his teeth in a snarl and Jason looked at them.

“I gotta tell them, don’t I?” he sighed and pulled his hand away, running it through his hair. “Alright. She might’ve wanted to tell them, but if she hasn’t sent Nevermore to relay, something’s wrong.” Jason stood and slammed the hatch shut.

As he ran down the hallway, he paused and looked back at the wolfdog. “Thanks, buddy.”

***

Bruce was anything if not punctual, and when he said for a party to be over, it was over. Honestly, it was actually Alfred who relayed the message and cleared everyone out—he had a knack for it, but Jason figured the loaded rifle he liked to clean in front of everyone.

That being said, the only people still in the ballroom when Jason got to the manor, were Lucius and Alfred. He sped up to them.

“Alfred. Lucius. Have either of you seen (Y/N)?”

Alfred blinked, shaking his head. “No, Master Jason. The last we saw of her, Miss (Y/N) was with you.”

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out and Lucius asked, “Is something wrong, Mister Todd?”

“I can’t find her,” Jason admitted. “She left the party to find something, and she hasn’t called back or…or sent…” he trailed off and Alfred placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Your brothers are in the cave.”

He offered Alfred a tight smile. “Thanks, Alfred.” Glancing at the other man, he nodded. “Lucius.” They watched as he hurried off to the study.

***

His feet hit the bottom step and he strode to the Batcomputer where Dick and Damian were crowded around Tim who was typing away at something. “Hey,” he called, and they spun around, eyes widening.

“Little-wing, where’ve you been?” Dick quizzed, then took in his appearance. “You haven’t changed out of your suit.”

Jason’s hands subconsciously went to his tux and he smoothed it. “Yeah, haven’t gotten around to it yet.” He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. Have any of you seen (Y/N)?”

Tim spun around in the chair. “Thought she was with you?”

“No. She left after we went into the gardens.” He reached out and curled his hands around the latches of Dick’s armor. “Dick, this is serious. I need to know if any of you have seen or heard from her.”

They gaped at the seriousness surrounding their brother and before they could respond, footsteps echoed behind him. Spinning around, they saw Bruce walking over. “Talk to me,” he demanded.

“We found the beast while you were dallying with the elite, father,” Damian quipped, then nodded to a medical table on the far side of the room.

Jason finally noticed it and his eyes widened at the werewolf’s dead body. “What?” he whispered.

“You killed it?” Bruce questioned and Dick snorted.

“Oh no, wedidn’t.” he nodded at the opposite side of the room. “That thing did.”

Everyone’s attention turned to a glass case about half the size of the study and what Jason saw made his heart drop into his feet. (Y/N) was in the farthest corner of the cage, her wings curled around her. She was still and silent.

“What is that?” their father asked, and Tim shrugged.

“Dunno. We ran a blood sample, but we have no idea what to make of it.”

“What doyou know about it?”

As they delved into a conversation, Jason made his way over to the cage. A flash of black appeared in his vision and he looked up, seeing Nevermore gliding to sit atop the cage. He tipped his head, staring at him with a beady eye.

“Is she okay?” he whispered and Nevermore nodded, hopping down to Jason’s wrist when he held it up above the cage. He glanced at the keypad and knew it had some type of failsafe to shut down on the first failed attempt.

“What’s the number, pretty boy?” he asked softly. “Four digits.”

Nevermore cocked his head to the keypad then back to Jason. “One-Nine-Eight-Nine.”

Jason punched in the number and the door slid open with a hiss. Nevermore fluttered up to the bars away from the cage and as he stepped inside, he slammed his fist into the keypad, watching as it sparked, and the door slid shut.

He heard his name being shouted behind him, but he moved to her, yanking off his gloves. “(Y/N)?” he whispered, fingertips tracing the ashen gray skin of her wing. “Doll? Are you alright?”

Someone hit the glass door. “Jason! Get away from that thing!” It was Bruce.

“I’m here, (Y/N),” he promised. “I’m right here.”

A single wing curled away, and he breathed a sigh of relief as he stepped into it and it curled around him, darkening his vision, though he could see the faint glow of her crimson eyes.

He felt her arms wrap around his body and he shut his eyes, one cradling the back of his head as she stood to her feet and he grabbed tight to her as she bent her knees and suddenly shot up through the glass ceiling, shattering it into a million pieces.

It felt like an eternity, being weightless in her arms, then the shock of the world came back as they hit the cave floor and she uncurled her wings, exposing them to his family.

Jason opened his eyes as he heard the various weapons unsheathe, charge-up, and extend, and he stared up at (Y/N). “It’s going to be alright, doll.”

“I can hear their hearts, darling,” she whispered lowly. “They are afraid for you.” (Y/N) looked down at him. “Of me.”

He shook his head and smiled, “Let me handle this, okay?”

For a moment she didn’t move, then she slowly uncurled her arms and he turned, but he didn’t step away from her, merely extending his arm out to protect her.

“Guys, you’ve got to relax,” he directed, and Jason saw their eyes dart from her to him.

“Jason, you’ve gotta be joking man,” Tim countered. “That thing killed that thingover there.” He took a step forward. “Put its hand through its chest.”

“I know she did,” he replied and held out his other hand to motion for them to stop. “But she’s not going to hurt anyone here.”

“She?” Dick repeated. “That’s a she?” From the look on his face, he didn’t believe his brother.

Jason looked at Bruce. “She’s not going to hurt us, B.” he inhaled deeply and pleaded, “You’ve gotta trust me on this. Put the weapons down.”

They stared one another down and then Bruce held out a hand, and the weapons lowered. He glanced back at (Y/N) and nodded, though her eyes were still wary, and he murmured, “Everything’s going to be okay, I promise.”

Sighing, she stepped back and cocooned herself with her wings once more, then a swirl of black smoke rose around her and a moment later, (Y/N) stepped forward, her face unreadable and Jason would’ve paid all the money in the world to have a picture framed of the expressions his family gave at her reveal.

“Good evening,” she greeted. “I’m sure this is coming at a surprise.”

No one said a word. Not a single word and Jason was sure this was the first time he’d ever seen his family speechless.

“I have contemplated revealing my true nature to you all since our first meeting, understand though that I didn’t wish for you all to see my…other form.” (Y/N) explained. “But please, do not be afraid of me. I’m not going to harm you.”

Jason reached back and took her hand, pulling so half her body was behind him. “I know this is confusing but (Y/N)’s been doing this a lot longer than we have.”

“Uh…how long exactly?” Dick wondered.

He looked back at her and she sighed. “About ten…thousand years.”

Again, he wished he had a picture of their faces.

Tim blinked. “Is there a term for older milfs that isn’t cougar?”

At that, the cave descended into hysterical laughter and (Y/N) pressed her face into Jason’s shoulder as she cackled, and even he was rubbing at his eyes as tears gathered in them.

“Oh my God, I’m so happy I’m no longer the only one being known to date older women!” Dick shouted and the mood was broken by Bruce who walked up to them.

“How long have you been in Gotham?”

(Y/N)’s laughter faded, and she pulled a solemn expression. “About four centuries. I helped the American soldiers against the British when the war came here.” She looked away. “It’s been a long time since I involved myself in human affairs but…” Jason squeezed her hand and she glanced down at their cojoined grip. “But Jason changed that when he picked a fight with a coven a year or so ago.”

“Okay, technically I didn’t pick the fight, they started attacking me,” he retorted.

“After youwaltzed into their territory like you owned the joint.”

Jason scowled. “Semantics.”

(Y/N) chuckled and met Bruce’s gaze, and something passed between them. “Is there something on your mind, Bruce?”

“What are you?” he asked, and she opened her mouth, flashing her fangs. “Vampire?”

“Yes…but that doesn’t seem to be the problem for you.” her eyes narrowed. “So, what is?” Bruce glanced at Jason and she knew right then. “I haven’t used any powers over Jason to sway his mind.”

“Are you sure?”

(Y/N) reached up and undid the tie from Jason’s neck, then unbuttoned the first two of his shirt and showed his neck to them. “Vampiric seduction only works when a vampire has consumed the blood of someone they enthralled.” She let Jason go. “I haven’t fed on Jason nor any human for ten millennia. This I swear to you.”

Jason nodded. “(Y/N)’s never hurt me, B.”

“She killed that thing,” he said, nodding at the corpse and she turned to it, pulling away from Jason to walk over.

“I did. As was my duty as a vampire.” She examined the werewolf. “But I did confirm my suspicions. It was a feral. But now it’s dead and no more people will be ravaged by it.”

“Feral?” Dick repeated. “Like crazy?”

“Wild,” (Y/N) corrected. “When a human can’t separate the beast from themselves, they lose control over their abilities to shift.” Her fingers trailed delicately over the hole she made in its chest. “They’re lost forever. A mindless beast.”

“You mean this was a human?” Damian questioned. “A person?”

She nodded. “Was. Hasn’t been for some time now.” Shaking her head, she admitted, “Though I’m still unsure of how it got into Gotham City. The nearest werewolf colony is in Virginia. It is…concerning that it got this far, especially with as many vampiric territories between here and there it must’ve passed through.”

“We could’ve saved them,” Bruce grunted, and she gazed at him.

“No. No you couldn’t’ve.”

“You don’t know that,” he shot back, and she cocked a brow.

“With all due respect, Bruce, you’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

“And you do?”

(Y/N)’s face pinched. “I’m a ten-thousand-year-old vampire that’s battled against Lycans for thousands of years.” Scowling, she griped, “Yeah, I think I know what I’m talking about.”

Bruce took a step forward, but Jason cut him off. “Look, I know how much you love being right, but this time, you’re not, okay? (Y/N) stopped this thing from hurting anyone else.”

“She killed it. We don’t kill in my—”

“Bruce.” She silenced him with a firm call. “I understand your no kill rule, but you need to understand that Gotham City isn’t your city. And even if you think it is, my centuries of being here out way your family’s.” She got in his face, staring him down. “I did what was expected of me by the council and I’m not going to apologize for taking care of my business.”

Pointing back at it, she added, “And this was mine. Not yours.”

They glared at each other and Jason rested a hand on her shoulder, prompting her to soften her eyes when she looked at him. “(Y/N), you’ve expended a lot of energy being in your form for so long. We should get you something to eat and some rest.”

(Y/N) reached up and wiped the fatigue from her eyes. “I need to contact Alexander and tell him I took care of it.”

“Do it tomorrow,” Jason urged, pulling her into his arms. “Doll, you’re exhausted. Even I can tell.”

“I’m fine,” she retorted but his arms tightened around her.

“I will throw you over my shoulder and carry you if I have to,” he threatened, and she hissed.

“I am not a sack of potatoes.”

“So, you’re going to walk willingly?” he asked, blinking those pretty teal eyes expectantly and she scowled at him.

“Fine.” (Y/N) started towards the stairs, him grinning as he followed.

“(Y/N),” Bruce called, and she stopped, glancing back at him.

“Yes?”

He didn’t look at her. “Can I expect more of these again? Or any of you? That form specifically?”

“Lycans? Not likely. Vampires? More likely. Me though?” she shook her head. “No, I’m the only one of my kind in this dimension.”

“This dimension?” Tim queried and stuck himself to her side. “Are you from another dimension?”

(Y/N) blinked down at him. “Why do you wanna know?”

“That’s not a no.”

She smirked, ruffling his hair. “Tell you later. How about that?”

His lips pursed, but after a moment he nodded. “Can we test your stamina and any other limits you’ve got?”

“Sure Tim,” she agreed and took Jason’s hand. “Hundred bucks says I can give your dad a run for his money.”

He grinned. “I’ll take that bet.”

(Y/N) waved at the others and leaned on him as they walked up the stairs in silence.

***

He’d already changed out of his suit and slipped on a pair of boxers when she stepped out of the bathroom and immediately collapsed beside him on the bed, letting out a groan.

“Tired?” he chuckled, rolling over to lay on his stomach, hand caressing her back.

(Y/N) nodded. “It’s odd. I don’t get tired like I used to when I first started out but…”

“But?” Jason encouraged and she turned her face to look at him.

“But I’ve noticed that when I spend long amounts of time in my Vampire Lord form, I revert back and am just overcome with fatigue.” She exhaled deeply and buried her face in the mattress before inching up to lay her face just below the pillow. “I’m tired,” she said, voice muffled against the fabric and Jason snorted, raising up.

He straddled her hips, pressing himself against her and smirked at the curious noise she made when he yanked the towel away leaving her exposed. Jason dug his hands into her skin, kneading every knot she’d gathered the past few months.

(Y/N) groaned into the sheets as he squeezed her shoulders, digging his thumb into the curve of her back muscle and she couldn’t help but shift slightly, the relief almost shy of painful. It was, however, the price to pay for all she’d put her body though recently.

“I think you’re more knotted up than a fishing net,” he murmured, massaging her sides.

She grunted and wiggled her hips, listening to him inhale sharply. “Can’t help it,” she said. “I knot easily.”

Jason smirked and shifted back slightly, hands moving down to knead the flesh of her lower back and haunches. “You must be happy to have me as your personal de-knotter.”

“Could be happier,” she countered, gasping silently when he pinched her rear. “Jason!” she hissed and shot a look over her shoulder. “Don’t do that.”

He blinked innocently. “Do what?”

“I will punch you,” she warned, and he rolled his eyes.

“No, you won’t.”

“Excuse me?” she shot back, eyes widening at the audacity. “I won’t punch you? Who do you think you’re talk—oh wow,” (Y/N) inhaled sharply when he cupped her, fingers sliding between her thighs.

“What was that?” Jason asked and she groaned his name.

“Jason…”

He hummed, middle finger twitching enough that it had her arching back. “What do you want?”

“I’d personally rather die than beg you to finger me,” she hissed and placed her hands out away from her and shifted, sliding her legs from underneath him. (Y/N) turned over and propped herself up against the pillows, curling her pointer finger up at him.

Jason started crawling up the bed. “So, what will it take for you to beg?”

“Depends on what you want me to beg for, darling,” she countered, elegantly raising a leg, placing her foot on his shoulder. “But I’m sure you could persuade me to lower myself enough.”

He chuckled and reached up, grabbing the top of her foot as he leaned forward and she bent it, letting her heel rest on his back. Jason pushed her other thigh apart, exposing her and he looked up at her, waiting.

“Want permission?” she queried with a smile and he pressed a kiss to her thigh.

“Can’t come without it…isn’t that how that goes?” he teased and (Y/N) rolled her eyes, reaching down to grab his chin.

She tipped his head up and whispered, “Love me, darling. Like you want to.” Jason’s eyes darkened as he swallowed thickly and she pulled her hand away, resting it on her stomach. “Going shy on me?” (Y/N) murmured and propped her other arm behind her head so she could watch him. “But you look so pretty.”

“You’re a witch, you know that?” he countered and shifted her legs further apart. “You enjoy the power, don’t you?”

(Y/N) hummed. “I’m not called a ‘Lord’ for nothing, darling.” She groaned when he nipped up her thigh to her center. “My power isn’t challenged often.”

“I guess I’m just cocky enough to challenge,” Jason shot back before dragging his tongue up her center, smirking when she gasped, the leg over his shoulder tensing.

She reached down and carded her fingers through his hair. “Or foolish,” she breathed, grip on his tresses tightening when he circled her clit with his tongue. “Jason,” (Y/N) moaned, arching her back in need.

His only response was a groan that had her shivering as it sent shocks throughout her body and then he was sliding his middle finger into her, pumping it quickly.

“More,” she begged, and he obeyed, sliding another finger into her, curling them repeatedly until he found that spot inside her that had (Y/N) writhing, hips lifting with every pump.

Each time he gave her a sharp suck, she tugged his hair, pricking his scalp with points of pain and he returned it with low groan that had her whining and pulling him closer to her. At one point, she’d forgone watching him, tipping her head back, letting out little “Ah-ah-ah’s” and Jason knew the higher pitched she got, the closer the was and all it spurred him to do was make it happen faster.

Her thighs began to close around him and before he knew it, she was grabbing at his shoulders and yanking him up to kiss him. Jason kept curling his fingers and she gripped his wrist, stopping him.

“What’re you doing?” he questioned, pulling away to look into her ember eyes. They were blown wide with desire and she shook her head.

“I want you inside me.”

“I was,” Jason breathed heavily, though he removed his fingers and started shimmying off his underwear.

(Y/N) took his length in her hand and pumped him a few times, smiling breathlessly when he cursed and squeezed the flesh under her thigh still over his shoulder. “Not the part of you I want inside anymore.”

He took his length in his hand, guiding himself until he was up against her core, but he stopped and gazed at her. “Beg me.”

“I hate you,” she hissed, and he smirked.

“Hate sex is fun too, doll. We can do that instead if you want, but you’re still going to beg a little.” Jason leaned down and took one of her nipples into his mouth, rolling it with his teeth.

“Jason,” she whined. “Please.”

“Little more,” he coaxed when he pulled off, heading for the other one and she cocked her other leg around his hip.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” (Y/N) barked. “Fuck me already, you ass.”

Jason smirked and sheathed himself in one thrust, both of them gasping at the ripple of pleasure; his chest was heaving as he looked down at her. “How do you want it?”

“Fast,” she pleaded. “Fast and hard, please, Jason. Please.”

He grunted and pulled out only to thrust back in, setting a harsh pace that had her shouting, back curving up against him. Jason bent forward, pushing her leg into her chest and she dropped her head back.

“Fuck,” she groaned, feeling him deep inside her and he chuckled, though it sounded strained against her skin.

“Hard enough for you?” he growled, pinching one of her nipples and she nodded rapidly.

“Yes, yes, Jason. Keep going. More.”

He huffed a laugh. “Whatever will it take to please you?” Jason captured her lips in a searing kiss as he felt her slip a hand between them, and then she was tightening around him. “Shit,” he cursed, breaking their kiss and he gazed at her. “Doll…” he panted; his voice was taut, and he could feel it coming faster and faster.

(Y/N) whimpered beneath him and cupped his cheek. “Darling, please,” she begged, and that needy voice was the final push. Jason buried his face in her neck and moaned her name desperately as he spilled himself, hips stuttering and then she was gasping in his ear, clenching, and pulsing around him.

They both laid there panting, trying to catch their breaths for what seemed like an hour, then Jason helped her lower her leg before he eased himself out, collapsing beside her. (Y/N), very slowly, turned over and tucked herself underneath his arm, resting her head on his chest, listening to his heart.

“You know…” he started. “That was supposed to be a slow and gentle lovemaking.”

(Y/N) snorted, wrapping her arm around his waist. “We can do slow in the morning.” She looked at him. “Now was the time we tired ourselves out so we can sleep longer.”

“Oh? Is that what that was?” he asked with a grin and she nodded.

“Indeed, it was,” she answered and laid her head back on his chest, eyes starting to slip shut.

“(Y/N)?”

“Mhm?”

“I want you to know that my decision hasn’t changed.”

Her eyes opened but she didn’t look at him. “Truly?”

“I want to be with you. Now…and forever.”

For a moment, she was quiet, then she said, “I want you to spend one whole year talking to your family. If after one full year, you have gained their approval of this choice…then we’ll start the process and I’ll make you vampire.”

“Really?” he asked. “Just like that.”

“Just like that.”

“You won’t regret doing it?”

(Y/N) turned her head, gazing into his eyes. “I regret many things in my life, Jason. But I would never regret you.”

He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, then murmured, “Nor I you.”

She smiled and reached up, grazing her fingers against his cheek. “Now that that has been settled, it is time to rest.”

“You’ll still be here when I wake up?” he asked, and she hummed.

“Always, darling. Always and forever.”

[hearts1ckness]

*cracks knuckles*

in regards to listener characters specifically:

i talk ab it a bit but babe is rich. like. stupid rich. like they own the company they met asher at, rich. & asher literally has no idea till he goes to their place for the first time & it’s this fancy ass apartment

DARLIN IS CHEROKEE & DISABLED (they’re just like me fr.) also they have heterochomia & the ability to cook when they want to

angel’s an accountant. they’re the opposite of me in the sense of being good with numbers, which baffles david bc they’re shit with them in regards to cooking

FREELANCER IS TRANS & GREEK & are also in love deftones & are obsessed with stars. they make a MEAN cheese pie & about killed lasko the first time he had it bc it was so good??

they also had younger siblings back home in greece, which is why they’re so good with caelum. they’re the oldest of three.

honey is a plant parent & freelance photographer. they met guy because they attended the same college comp class.

besite (blake’s listener) is dying of their own volition & blake is obviously not okay with that. they also met in childhood while they were hospitalized

sweetheart is humanborn & spent their teens in a psych ward (for reasons relating to my ad-libbed lora expansion on humanborns/latents). they’re also tatted as fuck. like im talking massive back & thigh tats, kinda tatted as fuck. also they quit their job at the department after the inversion & it’s fallout (sorry erik i don’t make cop ocs🤷‍♀️)

obscura (morgan’s listener) has a mild case of agoraphobia due to their nature as a seer, so a lot of their meetings post introduction are at their house

sunshine is a pianist. they met elliott bc they were both in the school orchestra (he’s a violinist)

starlight is an astrologist. they teach astrology/astronomy at a human community college. they knew leighton (baby) prior to both of their disappearances

cutie is also a pianist, but they’re primarily a sketching artist. they frequent a coffee shop down the street from the department offices about 3-4 times a full calendar week to just sit and people watch (& listen.) they’re also awful with boundaries due to the generational gift of telepathy, but are working through it in therapy

lovely comes from old money, but is estranged from their family so they don’t have access to any of it. they’re also a painter, which has been their primary source of income (as well as coping skill) since they were 18

bright eyes is borderline & cherokee (they’re just like me fr.) they’re also 5’9” & is taller than vincent & sam when they wear their platforms. also they’re a lesbian.

(pls note i have not listened to ivan’s series i just like traumatizing characters LMAO) baby was one of the highest ranking employees at their job, so their disappearance was a mess to clean up for the department due to their status. they also prefer glazed donuts over everything else & are anemic.

coworker (cam’s listener) works in covert upkeep. their job is to handle covert breaks, which is why the inversion took such a toll on them. it was their job to cover it up.

warden is the very definition of the “arent u tired of being nice?? don’t u wanna go apeshit?” also i subscribe to the “cam/warden/sweetheart bff trio” hc & they helped sweetheart out in the early stages of their relationship with milo bc of their ✨trauma✨

but in my own characters:

bright’s girlfriend isn’t convinced they “disappeared,” & is actively becoming a risk to covert because of how relentless her searching is (alba zera how i adore u)

sierra doesn’t often make an effort to socialize with her fellow professors at DAMN. she sees no point, she enjoys her peace, solitude, and freedom to do whatever she wants, when she wants. so then why is she making such a concerted effort to befriend lasko when no one else is?

venus doesn’t know much about the world. other than the fact that she’s an alcoholic, she’s getting visions of shit she has no understanding of, and the older gentlemen that frequents her 24 hour bookstore is not in his mid-thirties

the solaires have a demon watching them. they have since william took his charge under his wing. they just don’t know they have a demon watching them

also william has had beef with a vampire clan of lesbians bc their leader took his bitch like. 100 years ago & hes petty & their leader is a gloater LMAO

Im gonna need everyone who sees this to info dump to me about the redacted ocs right now. They are all so cool and I love them sm

[halsteadlover]

𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐌𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

*Gif not mine, credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Jay Halstead x Beryl Grey (oc).

• Requested: No.

• Summary: Beryl Grey is transferred to Intelligence and there she realizes she already met one of the detectives.

• Warnings: mention of drinking, slight smut, bad words.

• Word count: 2837.

• A/N: So this is my first imagine and y'all can't even understand how nervous I'm about it. I'll be honest I'm really disappointed how it turned out but I really didn't want to write it again so here it is 😭. Forgive me for any spelling errors, English is not my first language so I'm very sorry if something it's not accurat. I decided to go for a Jay x Named female character this time so let me know what you think, I'd love to have any suggestion and advice! I love you all and thank you for any feedback! Lots of love ♥️

Her blue eyes were scanning the crowd while she was taking the last sip of her Whiskey Sour. She was getting bored as she ordered another glass of Whiskey, she knew it wasn't a good idea since she had to work the next day, but an extra drink wouldn't hurt anyone.

The next day would be in fact her first day as a detective in Intelligence Unit, following her transfer from the Boston Police Department. She was excited about this new chapter in her life but she couldn't help but feel a bit nervous. Chicago was an unknown city to her, she didn't know anyone there as she had only moved there two weeks ago. The only place she knew was the place she was in, which she'd read was called 'Molly's'.

That feeling of anxiety disappeared as the bartender placed the drink in front of her, which she drank in one gulp.

“You're new here, aren't you?” the bartender asked as she cleaned the glasses. She had noticed Beryl's slightly bewildered look as she looked around her “I've never seen you.”

“Actually, yes” Beryl said “Is it that obvious?”

“Maybe a little bit”, the girl said giggling. “My name is Kayla.”

“Beryl, nice to meet you.”

The two continued chatting for another couple of minutes until Kayla was called by another customer leaving Beryl in front of her empty glass.

As she fiddled with the coaster she couldn't help but feel watched, she was a cop it was a feeling she wasn't entirely unfamiliar. She ignored whoever sat next to her, mostly they were already drunk men trying to hit on her.

For some unknown reason he couldn't take his eyes off her, she was hands down one of the most beautiful and hottest women she had ever seen. He often went to Molly after his shifts but he couldn't remember ever seeing her before. Something about the way she looked so annoyed, the way she sat with her body half turned towards the bar while her eyes scanned the room as she played with a strand of her brown hair drove him crazy.

Her body language was clear: she had her legs crossed, her jaw was tight, her neck was tense and her brows were furrowed. She was moving her leg almost imperceptibly up and down as she was nervous. She didn't feel comfortable there, she was unfamiliar with the environment and that's how he knew she was new there.

His colleagues continued to talk and joke but he wasn't even bothering to hear, his eyes still fixed on her. He was unsure whether to go and talk to her or not since he had noticed the way she ignored any possible contact with men who were hitting on her.

It was only for a moment, a split of second.

Their eyes met as she turned on her stool to look back at the bar, a glass of Whiskey Sour in her right hand. She found herself stuck on that stool while the stranger's eyes continued to look at her as if they wanted to read inside her.

They were quite far from each other but despite the people in between, she couldn't take her eyes off those so green and bright. She felt as if the whole world around her had frozen, all the people had suddenly disappeared.

She never felt like this and she didn't know if it was the stranger who made her feel that way or the alcohol she had in her circulatory system.

Fuck he's hot.

Despite the distance he couldn't help but notice the blush on her cheeks which caused a smirk to rise on his lips. He was glad he had the same effect on her as she did on him.

That smirk alone made her feel a flock of butterflies in her stomach. Damn this was the sexiest thing she'd ever seen in her life.

She stared into his green eyes for a few seconds, then she looked down, smiled slightly and looked back at him again.

He took a sip of his drink, never breaking eye contact while he tried to ignore the way her eyes made him feel.

The corner of her mouth lifted in a smile as she looked back at him, her eyes sliding to his lips.

He didn't miss the way her legs were no longer crossed and likewise she didn't miss how her chest rose and fell as she took a deep breath. Her head tilted slightly to the side, her fingers fiddling with the straw in her glass as she took her time to look at him.

Her eyes dropped to his chest, his arms resting on the table and his muscular biceps wrapped in a sweater that seemed to be blue.

The way the soft lights lit up his face, highlighting his beautiful feautures… Fuck, Beryl had never seen such a handsome man in her entire life.

He found himself making the same movements as her, bringing his drink to his lips and taking a sip as they looked at each other, heartbeat increased.

That little game of glances and smiles and smirks ended when a person walked right past Beryl. When she looked back at the table where the handsome stranger was sitting she couldn't stop the feeling of disappointment noticing that he was no longer there.

She let out a sigh and she shook her head slightly as if to regain control of herself and her thoughts. She didn't know what the heck happened but she decided to go to the bathroom.

She sat back in her seat, ordering another drink. She promised herself that it'd be the last one, being already drunk and knowing that it would end pretty badly if she continued like this.

“Do you believe in love at first sight or should I take a walk and come back in a while?” she heard a voice say behind her and almost spat the drink on her.

What the fuck?

He laughed, leaning his elbow on the counter, his eyes scanning her. He couldn't help but think about how beautiful she was... Damn.

Beryl turned her head, feeling her heart skip a beat as she realized that her interlocutor was nothing less than the stranger.

“What did you just say?” she asked, laughing.

“Was it that bad?”

“The worst I've ever heard to be honest,” she said, not taking her eyes off him, still smiling.

“Well it worked since you're laughing” he said with a grin on his face and a raised eyebrow “I hope I didn't bother you, I saw you alone with that frown on your face and I thought I'd cheer you up” he continued this time gentle smile on his lips.

“No, you didn't bother me,” she shook her head slightly, still smiling.

“Is it free?” he asked, pointing his head to the stool next to her.

She nodded. “Yup”.

“So... New in Chicago huh?”

“Damn is it that obvious? You're the second person asking me this tonight ”.

“Let's say yes” he chuckled, resting his head on his hand “Let's also say that I wouldn't have forgotten you easily if I'd seen you before.”

She giggled as well, taking a sip of her drink. “Is this how you hit on women?”.

“No,” he continued, seductively licking his lips.

She felt her cheeks heat up, her legs spontaneously squeeze as she couldn't take her gaze from his lips.

Fuck, she wanted him and she wasn't even ashamed to admit it.

“I don't usually hit on women”.

“So what are you doing here?” she asked, taking a sip of her drink.

He nearly collapsed on his stool when he saw her lips around her straw as they sucked on her drink, her tongue fiddling with it, never breaking eye-contact.

He didn't know what was driving him the most, if the sinful image that had formed in his mind or the way she looked at him and innocently blinked.

He took a deep breath as he tried to regain control of himself. She wasn't making it easy for him though.

His pupils were dilated, the green of his eyes almost gone. He was so captivated by her in a way he wouldn't even believe was possible.

What happened next was something the two of them never expected to happen when they stepped at Molly's that night. Neither of them knew the other's name but here they were kissing passionately against the wall of Jay's house.

She wasn't a one night stand type but the way she felt so attracted to that man, the way he looked at her, made her feel ... No one had ever made her feel this way with just one glance.

She let out a small moan as his lips began to trace kisses along her jaw, up to her neck.

“Fuck” she moaned through her teeth when he started kissing, licking, biting the place on her neck that drove her so crazy.

“God you're so fucking hot,” he whispered, rubbing his erection on her intimacy. “I couldn't take my eyes off you all night”.

He grabbed her leg, which was encircling his hip, and squeezed it lightly before sliding his hand up her ass and squeeze it possessively while he dotted her neck with his wet and addictive kisses.

They were a mess of kissing, moaning, hands touching everywhere and trying to remove as many pieces of clothing as possible.

“Jump,” he whispered as he continued to kiss her. He picked her up easily, her legs encircling his hips, her hands in his hair. He groaned when she tugged on them lightly, which made him even hornier than he already was.

A grin formed on her lips as she began to fiddle with his belt, noticing the expression of lust on his face as she looked at her like she was the most beautiful creature in this world.

He muttered a long string of courses under his breath as soon as she took his dick in her mouth. The moan he let out was alone enough to send her over the edge and drive her crazy. She swore she never heard anything sexier that this.

She had her eyes on him as she watched him lost in the pleasure she was giving him as he moved her head back and forth. His head was tilted back, his jaw set, his eyes closed and his mouth slightly open as she continued to moan.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” he cussed, his hand grabbing a fist of her hair “You look so fucking beautiful with my dick in your mouth... Ah... God yes...”

“Stop p-please i don't wanna come yet” he moaned as he started to feel the orgasm build up inside him.

They had sex more than once as they could barely hold back the feeling of lust and desidere they felt for each other. The orgasms that unknown man gave her that night were the most intense she had ever experienced in her entire life and the fact that she didn't even know his name and he still made her feel that way blew her mind.

When Beryl woke up the next day, it was nearly 7 o' clock . The headache and nausea from alcohol were starting to take their toll and it took her a while to figure out where she was. Only when she turned and saw the unknown, naked man still sleeping, she realized what happened.

She had sex with a man she didn't know anything about, and despite it being amazing, she couldn't help but feel stupid. She had behaved unconsciously and this bothered her so much since she was never careless, she did not go with strangers.

What if he was a serial killer?

Taking care not to wake him up, she sneaked out of bed and grabbed her clothes before getting dressed and quickly leaving the house, with the assurance that she would never see him again.

She decided to forget him, that she had more important things to think about since this was going to be her first day at Intelligence.

When she arrived to the 21st district her heart was beating so fast she almost felt it jump out her chest. She was going to work for the Intelligence, one of the best units in Chicago Police Department, this was a huge opportunity for her, she didn't want to mess up.

She took a deep breath as she entered the district.

“Hi, I'm supposed to meet Sergeant Voight...”.

“What do you want from me slim can't you see I'm busy?” the woman snapped behind the reception desk, her eyes scanning Beryl from head to toe.

“I just told you ma'am”.

“It's Sergeant Platt” she said “I'm gonna buzz you up detective Grey.”

“What? How do you...”.

“I know everything about anyone remember that. Go now.”

Beryl looked at her skeptically, asking herself if that woman was always this rude. Something told her the answer was actually yes.

She thanked Sergeant Platt and walked away to go upstairs.

“Detective”.

Beryl turned her head around to see Sergeant Platt looking at her with a neutral and impassive gaze. “Yes?”

“Good luck.”

She gave her a small smile before nodding. “Thank you Sergeant”.

When Beryl went upstairs she immediately noticed that all the desks were still empty, sign that the other agents had not yet arrived.

She took a second to look around to examine the place she hoped she would work at for a long time. She wondered if she hadn't arrived too soon but she breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Sergeant Voight in her office. She took a deep breath before knocking the door and entering as soon as she heard a ‘come in’.

“Sergeant Voight”.

“Oh detective Grey it's nice to finally meet you, I heard great things about you, please take a seat”.

She sat down across from him and they started talking and discussing about work, completing and sorting out the latest documents she needed to sign.

Beryl couldn't stop the huge smile that formed on her face as the sergeant handed her badge and the holster with her service gun.

As they talked, Sergeant Voight's attention was drawn to some buzzing and noises outside his office and at that point he knew that his agents had arrived.

“The rest of the team has just arrived. Are you ready to meet them kid?” he asked, standing up.

“Yes” she stood up too.

Sergeant Voight left his office followed quickly by Beryl.

“Alright guys” he spoke drawing everyone's attention “She is Detective Gray. She was transferred from Major Crimes Unit of the Boston Police Department and she will be part of our team.”

As Beryl looked at the team, her heart almost stopped as her eyes fell on one particular person.

She widened her eyes in pure shock as she looked at the last person she would ever expect to see that day. She couldn't believe it. It had to be an absurd twist of fate, there was no other explanation.

It was him. The stranger.

From the way he was looking at her, she knew he recognized her too, his green eyes wide with surprise and shock.

He considered whether to say he already met her or pretend nothing happened, but when she held out her hand, a friendly smile on her lips, he knew he had to choose the second option.

“Beryl Gray.”

“Jay Halstead”

Jay. So that's his name.

After making all the introductions she immediately started chatting with the agents whom she learned were named Kim and Kevin.

She tried to ignore Jay's presence, to push away the memories of last night, but it wasn't easy while he was looking at her like that. It was like they were in that bar again.

All thoughts were interrupted by Sergeant Platt, who broke into the intelligence offices.

“Armed robbery in progress with hostages on 16th, they want you there.”

“Come on, let's get ready” Voight ordered and everyone moved. Beryl followed the rest of the team as she was not yet familiar with the place.

As she was wearing a bulletproof vest, she suddenly felt a grip around her arm as she was dragged a bit far from the rest of the team. She was surprised when she saw Jay, a frown on his face.

“When were you going to tell me you work here?” he asked in a low tone of voice so as not to be heard. He was clearly annoyed.

“How was I supposed to know you work here?!”.

“You could've ask for fucks sake!”.

“Are you kidding me?!” she whispered/shouted “Listen Jay, this is not the time to talk about it now. We had sex, that's all. We are coworkers now, let's just act like nothing happened okay?” she continued, taking one last glance at him before walking away.

God, it was going to be a very long shift.

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I Am Alive (chapter 1/?)

Chapter 1: A Nurse for Androids

Deviant!Connor[RK800] x (fem!)Reader Rated M(18+) for canon-typical violence and gore, medical procedures, and graphic sexual content

Synopsis: You were a biomechanical engineer, a fancy way of saying that you repaired androids. After the revolution, you decided to move back to Detroit to offer aid as, essentially, a nurse. After stopping by to visit an old friend, you began to grow attached to his android partner.

Chapters • 1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • 6 • 7 • 8 • 9 • 10 • 11 • 12 • 13 • 14 • 15 • 16 • 17 • 18 • 19 • 20 • 21 • 22 • 23 • 24 • 25 • 26 • 27 • 28 • more coming soon

You can also read on AO3 & thank you for supporting me ♥

"Lieutenant, this place is-"

Connor stopped himself when he caught the look Hank was giving him. It was something akin to a scowl, though his lip was a bit more crooked and his eyes were more annoyed than angry.

"Hank," Connor corrected himself. "This place is-"

"Can it," the detective groaned, knowing full well he was about to get criticized for living in a dump.

Connor caught himself smiling a little, despite the fact he had just been told to shut up. There was something oddly satisfying about getting on Hank's nerves, especially when it was over harmless things. 'Banter' was what it was called.

Hank had been sober since the revolution, and that was nearing six months ago. It was a little difficult for Connor to get a grasp on how that made him feel. 'Proud' seemed to be the word that came up the most in his searches. He was proud of his partner and wanted to congratulate him.

The older detective insisted 'I don't need nuttin' and 'don't buy me no damn gifts' when Connor suggested they celebrate. After some insistence, Hank reluctantly agreed to let Connor help him clean his house. It seemed to go hand in hand with Hank's new resolve: get your shit together, tidy up the place, buy some new fucking furniture.

"Isn't the point of this whole deviant thing to not do stuff for humans?" Hank asked, mopping the kitchen while Connor loaded up 'Hank's crap' in a box to be donated.

"I'm doing this because I want to," Connor insisted. He paused and turned to Hank. "We could test it? Tell me to do something."

Hank leaned against the broom, eyeing the android suspiciously. "Fine. Trim Sumo's nails."

Connor did not even break eye contact. "No."

Hank let out a howling laugh. "Smartass."

The android smiled and resumed what he had been doing. It all made sense, why humans got such a rise in telling people to fuck off, why Hank had no issue telling Connor to 'mind his own damn business' when he scolded him for his choice in food. Free will felt good. Connor had his own apartment, collected a paycheck. He went to work every day because he wanted to.

The doorbell rang and Connor eyed Hank first.

The lieutenant shrugged his shoulders. "Knock yourself out. Probably just some damn door to door salesman."

Connor trotted over to the front door. When he answered , he was greeted by a pretty woman, a few inches shorter than him, with a bright smile and beaming eyes. She had a curious demeanor: like she had knocked on this door dozens of times. Well, you had, it had just been a long time.

Before he could utter a word-

"Holy shit," you exclaimed through a wild grin. You had expected Hank to answer the door. But, a familiar face did instead. His hair was neatly trimmed with just a few devious strands fallen over his forehead, kind brown eyes and a squared jaw. Most guys grew out of their freckles. You were pleased to see that he did not.

His eyes flickered with confusion at the sight of you. It was to be expected, so you didn't overthink it.

Excitement overwhelmed you and you reached forward, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, pulling him down into a friendly embrace. He was frozen stiff in the door way, one hand still on the handle while the other hung limp at his side.

"God you got tall," you murmured happily into the space above his shoulder. You pulled back and looked into his confused eyes.

"Cole, don't tell me you forgot your best friend?" you teased. His head tilted slightly and his brow softened.

In the corner of your eye, you could see Hank approaching from the kitchen. When you saw the look on his face, your excitement settled down. He did not look like the police officer you knew growing up. His once clean shaven face was covered in a messy beard. His once neatly trimmed hair was long and shaggy. He had greyed a tremendous amount, likely from stress.

Yet, his kind eyes were the same as you remembered.

"Officer Anderson," you addressed him with a smile.

Hank didn't even have to ponder over who you might be. You were all grown up, sure, but like hell he'd ever forget the kid his kid spent most of his time with. He uttered your name with a sort of fondness that brought you right back to your childhood. However, there was something equally depressing in the way he said it.

"I am very sorry; but, I am not Cole."

Your eyes returned to the young man in front of you, the one you had just embraced. He offered his hand to you. You gawked up at him for a moment, processing what he had just said. It was then that you finally saw it, the solid blue LED on his temple.

Embarrassment flushed your face; so, you took his hand to try to drown it out. "My name is Connor and I am a detective with the Detroit Police Department," he introduced himself proudly.

"I - I'm sorry. That was very rude of me," you apologized, voice so much smaller than it was a few seconds ago. Connor didn't seem bothered at all by what had just occurred.

"Good to see ya', kid," Hank grunted. You nodded at him and forced a smile. Hank did not.

The older detective made a gesture, beckoning you inside. "Why don'tja come in..."

The android, Connor, stepped out of the way and you followed Hank into his living room. It had not changed one bit since the last time you were here: the same shaggy carpets and wrinkly old couch and faded recliner.

He had not said it yet; but, as you took a seat and began to process everything, you knew what was coming. Hank took a seat in his recliner and leaned forward, elbows on his lap. You felt your heart sink into your stomach and blood rush to your ears.

"Cole died, not long after you moved away," Hank explained. "This hunk'a'plastic is my partner." He motioned at Connor with a wave of his arm. "Sorry," he added on gruffly.

He had died... that long ago? And you had no idea... You had grown up, graduated college, lived through a quarter of your life already and Cole was... was gone, had been gone, long before he could experience much of anything.

"Hank - shit - I'm sorry. I came barging in here and-..." Hank waved you down, hoping to calm the storm that was beginning to brew. You continued, however, trying to settle the unease in your voice. "Me being here - it probably brought back painful memories. I should leave."

"Brought back memories, ya. Not painful ones," he replied, tone low, but sincere. "Less you count the time he fell outta the tree and broke his arm. You blamed yourself. So, I had two crying kids. Fucking hell."

His grumpy, yet playful tone, brought a smile to your face, and you choked out a laugh. "It was my fault," you giggled out.

"Yeah, well. That's a'right. He wore that cast like a medal," Hank replied with a soft smile, eyes looking off into nothing for a moment.

"I just wanted to say hi - check in on you guys," you explained, sniffling. You wiped some tears away before standing up. "I'm a mechanic - er, nurse - for androids. Moved back here to help, after the revolution - well, y'know. It's gonna be awhile before we can figure out a healthcare plan for androids."

"Sounds like you got a lot on your plate," Hank replied.

"Well, I'm glad to hear you're still a cop. I imagine you'll be hearing from me a lot - abuse cases, y'know?"

"I'm glad you made something of yourself," the older detective added on, fatherly tone catching you off guard. It forced a sincere smile to your face.

"I better get outta here," you breathed. "Oh! Uhm - here - in case you ever need to get ahold of me." You pulled a card out of your pocket and offered it to Hank before offering another one to the android. You avoided his gaze in the process, but he took the card eagerly.

"I'm mainly gonna be stationed at Thirium Clinic. They just opened a couple weeks ago. Lots of... well, battle wounds and-..." You trailed off when Hank nodding in understanding. Tensions were still running high, violent protests were inevitably going to continue for a very long time.

Hank yanked his wallet out of his pocket and tucked the card away.  In the corner of your eye, you could see Connor do the same with the card you handed him. "Thanks, kid. My cell never changed if you still have it."

"Good to know. Thanks, Hank."

"If we meet again, I hope it is under good circumstances," the android - Connor - stated. Your eyes landed on him, a natural response from trained politeness.

You tried not to be overwhelmed by the site of him. He looked like Cole - like Cole had grown up and matured into a handsome young man. His soft brown eyes and freckles clashed deliciously with his sharp jawline. His designers had even put texture in his skin around his mouth and along his jaw and chin, suggesting he shaved every morning. Most androids had flawless skin; but, Connor had visible pores.

"I hope so, too," you replied, forcing your eyes away from his face.

Did Hank know what Connor looked like? He said they were partners. Did Hank choose Connor? Was he made for Hank? Did Connor know what he looked like? You had lots of questions. But, none of them were even mildly appropriate.

"Hank, thank you for letting me bug you for a bit. It was nice."

He smiled a crooked smile. "Sure thing, kid. Now, get off my lawn."

You returned his smile and saw yourself out.

As soon as the door closed, Connor's mouth was open.

"Don't you apologize or any other dumb shit," Hank scolded him.

Connor's mouth made a quiet sound when he smacked it closed.

"Back to work," Hank groaned.

...

...

...

Luck had it that you saw Hank and his android companion less than a week later. It first came in the form of a text from the older detective.

'connor fucked up his hand you working?' was what it read. You replied with a simple 'yes' and two of Detroit's finest were walking through the sliding door to the Thirium Clinic.

When you approached them, Connor had a towel wrapped loosely around his hand, the cotton stained blue from all the thirium that had leaked out of him.

"Hope you didn't expect something fancy," you said shyly as you ushered the boys over to a booth. The place was clearly an abandoned grocery store turned medical office. They had not yet put up any real walls, just portable ones to give the illusion of privacy. Simply put, it was a shit show

Connor sat down and propped his arm on the chair's operating arm. You took a seat next to him, flipped on the hovering light, and carefully removed the towel.

"Really? Have you seen my house?" Hank barked.

You chuckled at that; but, the laughter died off when you exposed Connor's injuries. The sheeting - skin, if you will - was completely torn off Conner's right hand: his palm, the pads of his fingers, even a few inches down his wrist. The wiring was exposed, and you could already spot several that needed to be replaced. His hand felt stiff as concrete, further proving the damage you had feared.

"Shit," you cursed, spinning away from him in your chair to a nearby filing cabinet. You fished out some wires, and continued fishing until you found the right ones for his model.

Connor had remained quite still, you realized, when you came back around. You looked over his arm again, mentally preparing yourself for the path ahead.

"Aside from the obvious missing tissue and thirium loss, it's like nerve damage," you explained over your shoulder to Hank.

"Damn it, Connor," he grunted.

"Sorry, lieutenant," the android replied, intentionally robotic, but with the slightest smirk on the corner of his lip.

You had to choke down a laugh. "I'm glad it hasn't been hurting you, Connor. But, this might," you warned him as you set down the wires.

"I understand," he replied firmly.

He twitched a little when you plucked the first wire. For the rest, he managed to stay still. With how close you were, you could occasionally hear him let out a quiet, sharp hiss, so quiet that Hank was unlikely to hear it. You ended up replacing almost every wire that ran from his digits, through his palm, and down his wrist to the first joint bracket. Listening to him wince in pain never got any easier.

"Finally. Done with the wires," you breathed once the last one was secured. You leaned back and let Connor flex his fingers and twist his hand. He began to rotate his wrist around when you decided to stop him, gently cupping the back of his hand.

You did this all the time; but, you were faintly aware of heat blossoming on your cheeks as you held Connor’s hand. You silently scolded yourself, feeling a little too old to have a silly crush.

"Gotta patch you up, then a thirium transplant," you breathed.

Before it would adhered to an android and take on a skin tone, their flesh was pale, metallic, shiny and sparkly. It was also something between plastic and silicone, and had to be melted.

Hands were detailed, with corners and wrinkles, and much harder to get right than patching a wound on a thigh, which meant it would take a little longer. You had a handheld device that made it easier. It looked almost like a tattoo gun, and allowed you to carefully adhere it over the gaping wounds on his hand.

Normally, you had to ask your patients to be still. Connor seemed to be doing a great job of handling that without needing to be told. As you finished, you watched in awe as the flesh took on the peachy, light color of his factory default skin tone.

With a sigh, you set your tools down and maneuvered over to a nearby storage container holding bags of thirium. You wished one out and handed it to the detective. His levels weren’t low enough to require manual insertion. He could do it a more conventional way.

It was almost funny that androids were designed this way, that their only existing digestive track was to take in more blood. Keeping their thirium levels in the proper range was the closest equivalent they had to the need for nutrients.

Connor smiled gratefully as he took the bag from your hand. “That should be good,” you stated, trying not to feel so bashful beneath his gaze. “Let me know if anything feels wrong in your han-”

It was an unexpected door slam that shattered the moment. Some gasps sounded from the around room, You stood up and looked towards the entrance to see a severely damaged android limping in, a gun in his left hand and his right cradling a wound. He was wearing scraggily clothes that looked unfitting with his prim and proper haircut.

"I want an android doctor!" he demanded, the gun tight in his hand but pointed to the floor. His posture suggested he was scared to use it. However, that did not stop Connor from drawing his own gun.

"Wait," you hissed at him, pushing his arm down.

Connor uttered your name in a scolding tone as you stepped away from the chair and approached the injured android.

You took slow steps towards him, palms exposed in a display of yielding.

"S-stop!" he stuttered, shouting at you. Yet, he didn't point the gun at you.

"Hi. What is your name?" you asked him, not bothering to try and hide your nervousness. Everyone was staring at him nervously, patients near the door scrambling to get away from him.

He hesitated, looking at you with fear in his eyes. "T-Thomas..."

"Hi, Thomas," you replied, trying your best to steady your voice. "I'm sorry but all the nurses here are human. We came here from all over the country to help androids. You don't need the gun."

"No!" he cried out. "I don't want any humans touching me!"

Thomas was not just handsome, he was gorgeous. He had the type of pretty face people dreamt about and bright blue eyes. It didn't take a genius to determine what he was made for.

"Thomas, no one here is going to do anything that you don't want," you spoke to him, firmly. That was easy to say without fear, because it was the truth. "I promise."

You stepped closer, one foot at a time, and kept your eyes on his. You offered your hand and watched the fear slowly melt away behind his eyes.

"H-humans lie," he uttered, choked up, tears threatening to fall.

"I know. I'm sorry, Thomas," you replied quietly. For a moment, you had forgotten that everyone was still staring. "You're free now. You don't have to do anything you don't want to do. Thomas, I want to help you. But, before I can, I need you to put the gun down."

"I don't wanna go back," he whimpered. He didn't point the gun at you, but he held it as if to declare that he would use it to make sure that wouldn't happen.

"Are they making you work, Thomas? Your owners?" you asked, watching his face contort in agony. His LED was hidden behind his hair; but, when he turned his head, you could see it blaring red.

"They don't own you anymore," you said, firmly, anger shining through. "Please let me help you."

You stepped a little closer and, this time, he lifted the gun enough that it pointed at you. You almost could see down the barrel.

"It's okay to be afraid. I am, t-too, Thomas," you continued, lifting your hands a little higher. He was sobbing, now, fat tears falling down his cheeks, tinted blue from the stress. His hand, gripping the gun, was shaking.

"Y-you're going into shock from lack of thirium. Please, Thomas, please put the gun down and let me save you!"

His grip had weakened; before you could react, a hand came out of the corner of your field of view and grabbed the gun, effortlessly yanking it from Thomas' grasp. The android collapsed onto his knees in a fit of sobbing, clothing soaked in blue that oozed onto the floor.

Connor stood over the android, Thomas' gun now firmly in his grasp. When did he-? That fast... or had you just not seen him sneaking up behind you?

You brushed past Connor and joined Thomas on the ground. You offered your hand again and he stared at it for a moment. He gasped, once, then twice, before finally taking your hand. Another nurse was at your side in seconds and helped Thomas to his feet. The android was babbling on static, on the verge of powering down.

Connor watched you stagger away with the android, his thirium seeping all over you and staining your scrubs. You were still speaking to him in that gentle voice, ushering him to calm down. All the surrounding patrons had relaxed and continued on as they were. Connor was still holding the gun in his hand. It was covered in buildup, likely uncleaned for years; but, it felt heavy, definitely loaded with a full magazine.

He was so hyper-focused on you that he did not even notice Hank approaching. "You alright, Connor?" Hank asked, knocking the android's arm with his own.

"She's amazing," he replied quietly.

Hank laughed at his declaration. "Look at you getting all doe-eyed." Hank clapped a hand over Connor's shoulder and dragged him towards the door. "Come on, Tiger. With your track record, I'm sure you'll be back in here in no time."

...

...

...

Admiration, Connor realized, is what he felt for you. You were smart, independent, strong. He was impressed with the way you handled an agitated android. He was even more impressed by how much you cared about them. Or, maybe flattered was a better word? He didn't quite know. He just knew that he couldn't stop thinking about you.

"Earth to android," Gavin bellowed, snapping his fingers in the android's face.

Connor looked up at him with an unbothered expression. He was seated at his desk and Gavin, apparently, had been leaning over him, trying to get his attention.

"Watching porn in your head or something, tin can?" he suggested with a sneer.

"I was going over the case files, which happened to be far more important than your whining," Connor replied coolly.

Gavin slammed his hands on the android's desk. "There's still a score to settle. Test me, motherfucker," he growled.

"Sure. Name the game," the android replied with a small smirk.

"Quite the pair on ya' for someone with no balls," Gavin said through clenched teeth.

Connor glared at him slightly, a retort bubbling up in his throat. He did, actually. Without the function of human genitalia, but passable for a real pair, so to speak.

"Maybe if you called him by his name, he would answer," another detective suggested, delivering a harsh slap to Gavin's back as he passed by.

Gavin swung around and hollered at the passerby. "Yeah, when I'm fucking dead!"

Connor rolled his eyes and returned to the computer screen in his mind. He was looking at case files, actually. He just wasn't... thinking about them.

"Another human killed by an android. You'd know all about that. So, enjoy," Gavin declared proudly, dropping a file on Connor's desk. He could care less if Gavin spent the rest of his life hating his wires. But, another detective had... defended him? How... odd. But, not unwelcomed.

Connor opened the case file and took a breath that he didn't need.

...

...

...

Coincidences... Perhaps, a glitch in the matrix? Or just pure luck.

The very morning after patching up Connor, you were in line to get coffee with none other than Hank right in front of you.

"You stalking me?" he teased, hands shoved into his coat pockets and breath visible in front of his face. Most of the snow had thawed, but it was still too damn cold outside.

"Probably," you replied dryly. "This place is the only good place in town."

"Great minds think alike," Hank agreed.

It was your turn to order everyone coffees, so you had several on the way. You and Hank waited together, and even after he got his single mug, he still waited alongside you.

"Whatever it is you wanna ask, just ask, kid," he grumbled.

"Just surprised you got an android partner," you uttered, looking away from him nervously.

"I didn't like him at first. He grew on me, and he's a damn good detective," Hank answered, pausing to take a sip of his coffee. "Don't be embarrassed 'bout confusing him with Cole. I'm not oblivious to the way he looks."

You looked over to Hank, who looked oddly peaceful despite what he was saying.

"Those Cyberlife bastards knew he was gonna be partnered with me. I doubt it was an accident."

Your brow shot up at his implication. "Connor was made to be a detective android, then?"

Hank nodded into his drink. "Yep."

"Does he like being a detective?"

"I asked him that once, when he wanted to come back after all the... protests. He said his programming was gone, no more 'lines of code' telling him what to do... but he still wanted to solve crimes. All I can do is hope it's what he wants, and not choosing the path of least resistance."

"Me too," you whispered, far too fondly for your own good. Hank shot you a look; but, luckily, the barista came to your rescue and called out your name.

"Bye, Hank!" you hollered, rushing to the counter to grab your drinks and see yourself out. It wasn't entirely for selfish reasons. The clinic was waiting, after all.