#now from jason’s side he honestly didn’t remember anything from his time dead

[methoughtsphantom]

AU where jason when he’s at death’s door with the batarang™ slicing his neck open, speaks in ghost speak and danny hearing disturbance in the force (a call for help) comes swooping in to save him while cursing because damn it jason, i thought you lost my contact when you were resurrected, but hah no, turns out you had it all along and just didn’t want to call me unless you were dying:(

[msfcatlover]

Yet more Reverse!Robins

EDIT: Now on AO3.

(Calling back to my tags on this post, and one of the images from this one that live rent free in my brain.)

Joker gets bored torturing Jason on his own after a couple days, and sends out invites to all the other rogues (or at least, the ones he’s pretty sure won’t rat him out and end the fun) about a “surprise present” he’s working on for Batman. Steph has absolutely no interest involving herself in Joker’s nonsense, so she immediately throws it out and focuses on securing her area of the city to keep her people safe. She doesn’t think much more of it.

Six days later, Tim shows up at the door of one of her clubs. Not in costume, barely hiding his identity, hardly even armed (like, the bare minimum for walking around this part of town this late at night, and most of that is artfully hidden in his crutches & leg braces.) Aside from Damian or Bruce crashing the party to accuse Steph of stuff (that like 60% of the time she didn’t even do,) none of the Bats have ever approached Steph in an actual place of business before. She’s curious. She tells security to let him in, and show him to her table.

“Mr. Wayne,” Steph says, because fuck it, if Tim’s only going to mess up his hair and barely slap some concealer over the dark circles under his eyes, she isn’t gonna maintain his identity for him. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Tim shakes her hand, looks her dead in the eye, never glancing at her guards or flinching at his name. A proper little businessman, in a ratty band t-shirt and a pair of old jeans. “I need a favor.”

“You? Need a favor from me?”

“Yes.”

“The great Timothy Wayne?”

“I didn’t come here to play games.” Tim glares. “Yes, I need your help. Yes, it has to be you. Yes, I am out of other options. No, I am not above groveling—”

“Really?”

“Steph.”

“Don’t,” she growls back, “try to play this like we’re friends, Tim.”

Tim crosses his arms and scowls off to the side. “…Fine. We’ll keep it professional.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I wouldn’t be opposed to seeing you on your knees.” Tim’s eye twitches as Steph takes a sip of her drink. “What brings you to my humble abode?”

“I told you, need a favor,” Tim repeats.

“Well, that could be anything,” Steph says, rolling her eyes behind her mask.

“My little brother’s missing.”

Steph’s drink goes down the wrong way. She forces herself to swallow her cough. Steph clears her throat to mask it, and sets her drink back on the table.

Tim continues like he didn’t notice. “The police can’t find him. The Bats can’t find him. I have been leveraging every advantage I’ve got, but nobody has seen him in over a week—”

Ice slips down Steph’s spine as she remembers the invitation she’d thrown out right around a week ago.

“—but you have contacts they don’t.” Tim takes a deep breath. “I know you hate us, I know you…” His eyes flicker towards her guards. “…You’ve made your opinions very clear—”

“I should certainly hope so,” Steph mutters.

“—but whatever you think of me, or Bruce, or Cass, Duke, Damian, anybody, Jason’s innocent. He’s suffered enough.” Tim has a warning in his eyes: You’ve hurt him enough. Like she’d actually tried to kill the kid or something (if Steph wanted Jason dead, he’d be dead; honestly, she didn’t even leave any permanent damage. Her lesson was no harsher than anything any of them got on a bad patrol, she was just more open about the point she was making.) “He’s just a kid.”

“And yet, you keep letting him out into this city.”

Anger flashes across Tim’s face, but he visibly chokes it down. “I’m not having this conversation with you. This has nothing to do with Jason’s hobbies or field trips, or whether or not you approve of them. This is about a 15yr old kid, missing in Gotham City, following the biggest Arkham breakout in the last 10yrs. Are you going to help or not?”

Steph sighs, propping one elbow on the table and leaning on her fist. “What have you got for me?”

“Jason snuck out for a party nine days ago—the night of the breakout.” (Translation: Jason was in uniform, probably on patrol.) “We have a system where even if he doesn’t want Bruce to know what he’s doing, Jason still calls me to check in every 2hrs. He checked in a little before 2, because he said he was about to be ‘really busy’ and didn’t want me to worry. I told him to go home. He told me he’d be fine, that he wasn’t anywhere near the mayhem.” Tim’s expression is flat, dead. “He didn’t check in again. Nobody’s seen or heard from him since. There have been no ransom demands. Last sighting was outside of Genevieve’s in Burnley.”

The invitation arrived six days ago exactly.

Steph needs to go. Steph needs—Steph needs to find that letter, she can’t remember if it had an address or a time, she can’t—

“I’ll pay whatever you want,” Tim tells her, seemingly unaware of how Steph’s breath is caught in her lungs (remembering what it was like to be 16, tiny, and at the whims of a madman. Eight full days. Did Steph suffer that long? She doesn’t think so, but the time all blurs together under the pain…) “Money is obviously no object. Weapons? Name them. Tech? I’ll build it for you myself. I can wipe your record clean. I can keep the Bats off your back. I can—” Tim swallows. “My balance isn’t the best anymore, but if you want me on my knees, I can beg. If you need me to demonstrate my gratefulness or if you need someone to hurt, I—”

“Oh my god, STOP!” The table wobbles as Steph jumps to her feet, nearly spilling her ginger ale—but then, she doesn’t really want it anymore. Her stomach is one giant knot, and she’s really regretting those onion rings she had earlier.

“Please,” Tim says, soft and far more earnest than Steph can deal with right now. “He’s my little brother. I… it’s my fault he thought he could go out like this. If there’s anything you can do…”

Steph needs to get to her office. She needs to find that note, and if she can’t find it, she needs to find Joker’s delivery boy so she can beat the answer out of him. She steps away from the table. “I’ll get back to you.”

Tim grabs Steph’s wrist as she passes by. “Please—”

“I said, I’ll get back to you,” Steph snaps, yanking her arm out of his grip. She looks away from Tim’s wounded expression. “I can’t do anything if you’re dragging me down.”

Tim’s shoulders sag with relief. “Thank you.”

“…You owe me. Whether I find him or not.”

“Thank you.”

Steph walks away. She doesn’t look back.

(She shoots Joker in the throat, grabs the nearest heavy object—curved & metal, but much else doesn’t register—and beats the clown’s head in while screaming insults in League dialect. She strips down to her suit’s under layer to keep Joker’s blood away from Jason, tossing her gloves away without caring about fingerprints, and kneels down in front of Jason, making herself as small as possible. She undoes the bonds, checking his injuries, and when Jason collapses into Steph’s arms, she holds on. Steph cradles Jason in her arms, helps him rehydrate from her water bottle, and apologizes in every language she knows for not being there for him sooner.)

(Without the mask or the armor, with Steph’s hair pulling wild & sweaty out of its braid, she doesn’t look nearly so much like the villain who hurt him before. Jason wonders if he’s dead or dreaming, to finally have the hero he looked up to for so much of his childhood decide he’s worth saving after all.)

(Steph would go to the ends of the earth to protect him from that point forward. When questioned, she just mutters something about not “letting all that work go to waste.”)

[lazydoodlesandfanfic]

Turning Into Jason (Bruce Wayne X Daughter!Reader) *PARENTAL

Characters: Bruce Wayne X Daughter!Reader, Jason Todd X Sister!Reader

Universe: DC, Batman

Warnings: Murder, attempted murder (both off screen) blood and violence, swearing

Request: Bruce's daughter killing someone in cold blood on a mission out of anger (they disserved it tbh) and bruce having to talk her out of becoming like jason. (She doesn't listen tho.)

Bruce had long learned about the complexity of having multiple children, and their relationships with each other; Dick seemed to get along with everyone for the most part, though he got along best with Tim and Duke, Tim, Duke and Cass got along quite well, as well as with Damian in a strange way, Damian mostly hid any actual preference or feelings behind a cold exterior, but as referenced earlier, he got along strangely with Tim, and he also had a rather healthy relationship with Cass. However, there were two odd ones in that group: You and Jason. Jason, being the second oldest, was always standoff-ish, had a temper and had never really gotten close to anyone in the family, always keeping a wall between himself and others, even more so after his resurrection. You were quite similar, though several years younger. By the time you joined the family, Jason had died, been resurrected, and was on speaking terms with the family again, and when he came to see his new sibling, you two immediately connected very similarly to the way that the others had connected with each other. At the time, this had actually made Bruce happy- a sort of reassurance that you had someone, and so did Jason. Someone you actually related to to help each other in rough patches.

Well, now that wasn’t the case. Honestly, Bruce blamed himself for not thinking about the fact that Jason- his wild child and the one who actively doesn’t listen to him and goes out of his way to kill criminals, was so close to his little sister, an impressionable teen who looked up to him and saw herself in him in so many ways. He should have talked to you- or Jason, about keeping you away from that side of Jason’s work, or maybe not have involved you in the vigilante lifestyle at all. Because you’d done it. You’d crossed the line. You killed someone. 

Bruce wasn’t sure what to do, in all honesty. You had been out on Patrol unsupervised, and it was a busy night so it took a moment for anyone to realised you hadn’t checked in for a while, and then they couldn’t get ahold of you, leading to your father going to search for you, leaving strict instructions to hold off on telling Jason, knowing he’d kick off and go full guns blazing, and he was glad they’d listened. He was able to trace your steps, and soon found you heaving for breath, sat against a wall in an alley, covered in blood with a distant look in your eye. Bruce immediately presumed you were hurt, in shock and struggling to process anything. Then he saw the body further down the dark and damp snicket, not moving in any way. He went over to the man, confirming he was dead- with a cut to the throat of all things, the weapon- a batarang- nearby. Bruce picked up the weapon, turned back to you, walked over, grabbed your arm and heaving you up, and pulled you home, where you were now. 

You were still in your vigilante attire, though the mask was off, and you hadn’t moved from the chair that your father had sat you down in. He didn’t know what to say and where to start. He wanted to yell at you till his voice was hoarse, asking, begging, demanding that you give him answers to what happened and what led you to that point, but then he remembered how he did that to Jason, and how it only widened the gap between him and his second eldest, contributing to the domino effect that led to his death. He’d grown from that, at least he hoped he had, and he tried to prove that by waiting to gather himself in some way, promising that he was going to do this right this time, but he didn’t know what the right action was yet. He didn’t want to give you in, and your actions since he had found you had made him believe something happened that you hadn’t told him yet. He needed to talk to you. Alone. No Jason, no Alfred, no one else. He pulled a seat up, sitting down and facing you, arms resting on his knees. You were sitting back in your seat, arms flopped in your lap, head low, an almost dead look behind your eyes, not really looking at anything. “Y/N?” He called your name, and almost immediately your eyes looked up at him, meeting his own. “I don’t think you need me to say that I’m not happy about this. At all. You know we have a no kill rule, and for good reason, so you better have a pretty good reason.”

You didn’t answer him immediately. Instead, your eyes wandered down to your hands, still covered in the man’s blood, though no longer wet, and now soaking moisture out of your skin. You lightly picked and pulled pieces away from your skin. “You know those murders happening?” 

“You need to be more specific.” Bruce hated that he had to say that, but it was true. Murder was daily occurence in this city, no matter how hard he tried. 

“There’s been a series of murders on young women in that specific area. I always like to note down every case across the city just in case I notice a pattern and a link and… I found one. All the victims have similar appearances, similar age, and were killed in similar fashion. All were different from the usual attacks, and I realised it might be a serial killer…”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“I wasn’t sure. I didn’t want to jump to conclusions and be completely wrong and cause panic. I actually hoped I was wrong and none of these cases were linked, but… I decided to gather more evidence first before showing it to you. I went to investigate the location of where one of the women was found and… he showed up while I was there. I was looking for anything the police missed or left behind, and he came up behind me and-” 

“What the fuck happened?” 

The voice interrupted your explanation, and both yourself and Bruce became tense, knowing who that voice belonged to. Jason. He came rushing out of the elevator from upstairs, practically shoving Bruce to the side to look at you, ripping off his helmet so you could see him properly as he examined your hands, and then the blood on the rest of the clothes. “It was an accident. He was gonna kill me. I didn’t know what else to do.” You started to crumble so easily now that he was there, and Bruce watched as you let yourself immediately break down, becoming vulnerable and showing all your weakness in the presence of your big brother, who immediately made you feel safe with a soothing shush and pulling you into his arms as you started to sob. He got his answer. He now knew what happened. He of course still wasn’t happy it happened, but… He understood. 

“You did the right thing. You shouldn’t feel bad for defending yourself, you hear me?” Jason assured you. You nodded, sniffing as you pulled away, but still leant forward to be close to Jason, who still remained knelt down in front of you. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you.” 

“She went off by herself to investigate a possible serial killer.” 

“Oh? You got a serial killer? That’s great! Do you have any idea how many people you’ve probably saved? Think about it. That’s pretty special.” Jason responded to Bruce’s little comment, being complimentary and keeping his voice low, calm and kind when talking to you still, though there was a dog whistle of a threat in there that Bruce heard loud and clear, backed up when Jason looked over his shoulder to glare freezing, deadly daggers at him, telling to shut up. “But you’ll still feel bad for taking someone’s life. That’s normal, it’s expected, and it’ll be hard to deal with, but I’ll help you, okay?” Jason promised, looking back at you. “Want me to stay over for a few days? Help with any nightmares?”

“Yes please.” You answered quietly. Jason nodded, standing up in front of you. 

“Go take a bath, I’ll be up in a bit to set up a bed on your floor, if you need me, holler.” Jason told you, and you quietly and quickly walked to the elevator, head still low, still picking at your hands. The second the door shut, Jason turned to Bruce, and pointed to him. “Don’t you fucking dare blame her for what happened.” 

“Jason-”

“You heard her! She was attacked by a killer. He was gonna kill her, and she had no choice but to fight back with whatever she had available. It was him or her, be glad your daughter’s alive. Imagine if you found her dead, not him. Could you live with yourself if you lost another one of your children to a murderer?” Jason questioned, not caring if his voice echoed through the cave, disrupting the bats ahead, because he knew Bruce needed to hear it. 

“...I’m afraid she’s turning into you.” 

“Oh don’t you dare.” Jason growled, sort of pacing in an infrequent manner without pattern around the man, who remained perfectly still, not moving except his eyes who followed his second oldest. “Don’t you dare compare her to me. She is so much better than me. I know I’m a cold hearted son of a bitch, but her? She gives a fuck about Gotham, she wants to do what’s right still, and believe it or not, she wants to do you proud, she still has hope. This… accident will change her. It might break her. I don’t know to what extent, but what she needs is her family backing her up, being there for her, not demonising her and having her compared to the black sheep of the family, essentially threatening to disown her for not dying for your pathetic cause!” He snapped. The words made Bruce flinch slightly, though he hid it by looking down and making it seem like a long blink. Deep down, no matter how much it hurt, he knew Jason was right. He still didn’t know how to handle situations like these. He didn’t understand Jason, and he didn’t understand you. But Jason did. And so, with great reluctance, Bruce spoke up. 

“You know her best. What should I do? To help her?” He asked quietly, just above a whisper. This seemed to be the right answer, snuffing out Jason’s fuse, at least for a moment. 

“When everyone gets back, you explain to them what happened. Carefully. You tell them how Y/N was attacked by a serial killer, and in self defense, killed him. You tell them how she’s clearly shook up by the event, because she is. You make sure they don’t see her as another criminal, because if she feels like the people who are supposed to have her back are turning on her for this… then she will turn into me, and trust me, no one wants that. Especially me.”

Hope you like it! If you have any questions, please send them in! 

*Not my gif

TAGS:  @freyathehuntress  @courtneychicken​  @graysonmalfoy​ @bellero​ @originalpottervengerlock​ @supernatural-pan​ @esoltis280​ @lady-of-lies​ @lenaswritingandstuff @macbetheliza @mandywholock1980​ @cdwmtjb8​ @caswinchester2000​ @determinedpines​ @huntheimpossible

[ragingbookdragon]

I’m Only A Crack In This Castle Of Glass (Hardly Anything Else I Need To Be) PT. 7

Batfamily x Batsis Story

Word Count: 2.1K Warnings: Explicit Language, Angst

Author’s Note: Anyone order a part seven? Cause I got a part seven for y'all. Enjoy! -Thorne

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

Ever since the meeting that night, she’d gotten more letters from her family than she’d ever received in twenty-one years. Not that she decided to read them. The first line from Dick’s letter was, ”I never wanted you to leave because of me. If only I’d known…”. She couldn’t keep reading, and she wasn’t sure if it were from guilt, sadness, or anger, but there was something there that she didn’t want to face.

It didn’t stop there though. They kept coming even if she tacked a return to sender on it and sent it back. She’d even labeled one and written, ”Stop writing me.” but that didn’t stop them. Wally texted her every other night on top of the letters and she wanted to strangle him through the phone.

She knew though, that if she could keep holding out for three more months, she’d be home free. Wherever home was at this point. Every city she kept thinking about had some type of vigilante and there was nothing that didn’t; eventually she decided on Coast City. Somewhere warm and sunny, and as far from Gotham and Central as possible.

Of course that little voice in the back of her head just kept telling her to talk to them, but she was going to be as stubborn against it as possible—but time was dwindling, and so was her resolve.

***

“Ophelia, have you seen the extra bag of espresso beans? I can’t remember where you put them the other week.” She waited for a response. “Ophelia?” she turned and frowned. “Why did I accept the manager’s position when I can’t even round up my workers?”

She walked out of the storage and wiped her hands on the rag at her waist. “Ophelia?” A giggle sounded at the counter and when she walked out, her eyes went wide at the sight.

Jason was leaning against the counter with that smile he used to use on the models at the galas. He smiled at Ophelia. “Tell me, what do you make better, the cappuccinos or lattes?”

“Well, I make a —”

“She makes a mean ‘get in the back and find my espresso beans’,” she grunted and both of them jumped.

“Melisandre!” Ophelia stuttered, pale cheeks flushing pink. “I thought you were in the back.”

“I was. Think you can go find the coffee beans you put away?” She shot Ophelia a stare that screamed ‘scram’ and the girl nodded, hurrying to the storage room.

“Aww, why’d you run the cutie off, Melisandre?” Jason queried. “I was going to ask her out on—”

“Can I talk to you?” she interrupted, voice barely containing her seething rage. “Outside.”

Jason shrugged and shoved his hands in his jean pockets. “Sure, but be careful, people might get suspicious.”

She grunted and walked outside, listening to him follow and when the door shut, she turned around and hissed, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was just getting coffee.”

“Oh, don’t play dumb with me, Jason. We both know that’s a load of bullshit.”

His eyes narrowed and he noted, “You’ve really gotten comfortable using foul language. You know that, (Y/N)?”

She glared at him. “What. Do. You. Want.”

“You won’t answer our letters,” he shrugged. “Didn’t have a lot of options to talk.”

“And showing up at my job is the better option?” she griped.

“It was that or your house, (Y/N). Take your pick but you can’t have both.”

“Well, maybe my silence is supposed to be the answer to those letters. Did you think about that?”

“I did,” he nodded. “But after the third letter being rejected, I decided to go big or go home.”

(Y/N) growled. “Go home.”

Jason smirked. “No.”

“I’m not fucking joking here, Jason. I don’t want you coming here. Ever.”

“Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn,” he retorted then stepped forward and grabbed her wrist. “You don’t wanna talk willingly, fine. I’ll make you talk to me. And if I have to show up here every day, I will.”

“No, you won’t.”

Jason cocked a brow and tightened his grip. “You wanna bet? Because I’m not Dick and I’m sure as hell not Bruce. I don’t have a day job to get to.” He smirked. “I can do this all day.”

(Y/N) bit the inside of her cheek and thought for a moment then sighed and yanked her arm away. “Fine. Come to my apartment after five. We’ll talk there.”

“Thank—”

“Don’t thank me yet,” she interrupted coldly. “I’m agreeing for one meeting and then you fuck off back to Gotham City and leave me the hell alone for good.” She spun on her heel and started back for the door when his voice reached her, tired and pained.

“Do you really hate all of us? Do you really hate us like you make yourself think you do?”

(Y/N)’s feet felt like lead and she stopped, gazing at the glass door. “I don’t know, Jason.”

“Then let me help.”

“You can find the apartment on your own. I know you’re good at looking for homes.” She slipped in the café door, leaving him standing there shocked and hurt.

***

Sure enough, a minute after five o’clock, her doorbell rang and she called, “It’s open.” The door opened and shut, and she looked up from the little kitchenette, watching the way Jason walked into her apartment, gazing around the empty living room.

“Shit, do you live in a home or a prison cell?”

(Y/N) grunted. “Nice quip. Come up with that by yourself?”

He wandered into the kitchen, leaning back against the counter as she prepared dinner. “What’re you making?”

“Chicken marsala,” she replied. “You’re here to talk. Start talking.”

“Are you going to be a bitch like you were the other night or can I ask about life in Central the last three years?” she shot him a glare, warning him, but he paid it no mind. “You going to school?”

(Y/N) nodded. “I go to Central City Community College. Take classes all week at different times.”

“What are you studying?” he asked.

“For now, general studies, but I’m minoring in political science.”

“Planning on a four year after you graduate?”

She shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not.” Her hands stalled for a moment. “I don’t have the money for a big school to get a bachelors.” Shaking her head, she chopped up the vegetables. “Figure if I can get a job in the area, I can scrounge up enough to start the process though.”

“Might take years,” Jason noted, and she nodded.

“Yeah, hard work usually does.” (Y/N) glanced at him. “What’s Cassandra like?”

He blinked, evidently not expecting that, though he recovered and smiled. “She’s great honestly. Kicks ass better than anyone I know.”

“Even Batman?”

Jason huffed a laugh. “I’m sure she could wipe the floor with each of us if she decided to not hold back. Her mom’s Lady Shiva and her dad’s David Cain.”

“I don’t know who they are but I’m assuming from the tone that they’re not exactly the best parents in the world.”

“No…they’re not.” He agreed. “David didn’t teach Cass how to speak so she’s been mute all her life.”

“I’ve heard the few interviews she’s given,” (Y/N) replied. “She’s very eloquent when she does.”

“Shakespeare’s influence. And probably Emily Dickinson.” He smiled. “I leave her a lot of books to read so I can be her favorite.”

She snorted. “Yeah, that sounds like you.” Sliding the cast iron skillet into the oven, she sat at the crappy metal dining table, Jason taking the seat on the other side. (Y/N) scratched at the table. “Does Bruce like her?” she questioned lowly, and he nodded.

“Loves her like she’s his own.” He her with cautious eyes. “Just like he loves you.” Jason watched the emotion flash across her face, quick as lighting, a deep sorrow, then she was humming.

“Well, that’s good then.” She cleared her throat and looked at the clock. “How’ve you been? I hear a lot about Outlaws.”

Jason chuckled. “Yeah, that’s my band of renegades. Me, Roy Harper, and Koriand’r.”

“Remind me, those were Speedy and Starfire, right?”

He snorted. “Arsenal and Starfire. But yeah, close enough.”

(Y/N) got up and pulled two glasses from the cabinet before going to the refrigerator and getting the lemonade. She poured them both glasses and sat back down. “How’d you manage to wrangle two of the Titans into your posse?”

“Kori willingly tagged along, and Roy won’t leave me alone,” he griped, sipping his lemonade.

“Mmm…and how does Dick feel about you stealing two of his exes?”

Jason choked on his drink, spilling it on the table and down his chin. “That’s not—” he coughed. “That’s not what that is.”

“Uh huh, sure it’s not.”

“It isn’t,” he glowered.

“Riiiiiiight,” she drawled out with a grin, then took a sip and set her glass back down. “Figured you’d get Cass along with you. she seems like she’d be fit for Outlaws.”

He shook his head. “Nah, she’d be better off with Tim and his Young Justice weirdos.”

“She non-lethal?”

“Mhm.”

They dwindled into silence until the timer went off on the oven and she pulled the skillet out and set two plates on the table. “You’re gonna feed me?” he asked as she handed him a fork.

(Y/N) scoffed. “Duh. I’m a bitch, but I’m a bitch with manners.” She smiled sweetly. “But you have to leave afterwards.”

“Mmm…can I crash on your couch?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

He shrugged. “Figured I’d try anyways.”

They ate in silence, occasionally speaking about their lives the last three years, and when the food was all gone and the lemonade drunk, he sighed and reclined in the chair.

“What?” (Y/N) questioned and he shrugged.

“Dunno…I’d like to do this again soon.” His teal eyes found hers. “It’s been too long since we were together.”

“Tread carefully,” she murmured, looking at the wall and he sighed.

“Sis, talk to me,” he begged. “Even if it’s just to tell me how much you hate me, just talk to me.” She didn’t respond and he sighed again, standing from the table. “Thanks for dinner.”

“…I hate that you all put Gotham and every civilian before our family.” Jason stopped dead in his tracks and turned, gazing at her, though she didn’t tear her eyes from the wall. “I hate that the only time I felt like anyone paid any attention to me was when we were at galas and even then, the attention was just for show. It didn’t matter because all anyone wanted to do was get the hell out of the manor and go on patrol. It didn’t matter because I wasn’t like any of you. I wasn’t a part of the real family.”

Tears gathered in her eyes. “I hate that I spent more nights sitting in a dark and silent manor than spending them with my family. I hate that I never had a normal family growing up where we’d go for ice-cream after school and attend school performances. I hate that I got stuck with a bunch of siblings hellbent on giving every piece of themselves to the world and they couldn’t take one night off to have a family night to save their lives. To at least pretend to be normal.”

(Y/N) finally took her eyes from the wall and he felt his heart tighten as the tears slipped down her cheeks and she breathed, “I hate that I was born Bruce Wayne’s biological daughter and I’d give anything and everything I have to be someone else’s daughter and sister.”

Jason’s mouth felt dry, and he didn’t have single thing to say to her and she whispered, “Is that what you wanted to hear, Jason?” she blinked. “Because that’s what I feel every morning I wake up.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, and she cleared her throat, wiping her cheeks.

“Yeah well, I’m three years passed sorry.” (Y/N) nodded to the front door. “You should leave now.”

Jason nodded but his feet didn’t move. For a moment, he couldn’t move them, then he sucked in a breath and started edging back to the door. When he neared the door, he pulled it open and paused, looking back at her. “(Y/N)?” she didn’t answer but he said it anyway. “I love you. More than you’ve ever known.” He sighed and stepped out, closing it behind him.

(Y/N) buried her face in her hands and sobbed alone at the dinner table.

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Tags!: @itsnottilly @cloudyskylines @starflyer-104 @iwillstaywiththemforever @justine-en @weirdgirlfromtx @notsostraightweeb @candlestudy @willowoo @peterxwade24 @the-atlantic-french-fry @bad-bouquet-of-emotions @vvipgot7be @pure-princess-97 @atomicsoulhumanspy @foreverthefloor @natatawa-ako @impactshawol @bethabear12 @adazzlingsakura @kimhanbiin @thatanonymouschocolate @mischief-writter-24-7 @lostinwonderland314 @elz-zalarrr @lady-of-the-abyss @peqchynero @d3m0n8ch1ld @goldenguki @fallen-wolf22 @battlenix

[youryanderedaddy]

Love Fuel

Summary: You were Jason’s first love before you broke his heart and rejected him. It’s all your fault that he can’t move on.

Tw: female reader, obsessive behavior, incel behavior, nice guy behavior, self - hatred, threats of non-con, implied non - con, implied masturbation, bullying based on appearance (not reader), deregatory language, kidnapping, misogyny, generalizations, stalking

this is a hot mess but its 1 am and i am tired, ik that incels are bad irl (obviously), but this is fiction and I kinda wanted to explore the dynamic and shit. 

Everyone used to call him JJ or The-Big-Jay back in high school. Well, most of the time his classmates weren’t really calling out to him or even talking to him, the names were whispered behind his back, after he had just passed the hallway, or on bad days - right to his face. The jocks, these dumb motherfuckers, would beat him up, mock him for whatever stupid reasons they had chosen to use as an excuse to torment the smaller and weaker. The popular girls would giggle like brainless bimbos as Kyle or Brad or any other football player stole his glasses or continuously punched him in the guts until he threw up all over the floor. Even the nerds, the kids at the bottom of the school hierarchy, messed with Jason from time to time when they wanted to feel the oh - so desired rush of power they so rarely managed to experience. 

Looking back, Jason could see why his classmates hated him so much - he was everything that society deemed as wrong and unattractive. He was thin, pale, “scrawny” as the others called him, on the shorter side, and on top of that the teen was terribly shy and introverted, never having the guts to stand up to his bullies or even tell someone about the abuse. The male spent most of his free time at home, playing hours upon hours of video games, watching anime and reading books he was simply too young to understand or look critically at. As he grew older, the man began to view the world as it trully was - a dark, miserable place that ate up sore losers like him. Men were primitive and foolish, which somehow managed to soften their faults. Women, on the other hand, were  calculative and manipulative, greedy and sinful. His whole life they had done nothing but reject him when he needed love and support the most. Of course, there were many other reason why the brunette detested the weaker sex. In his eyes women were evil two - faced sluts, showing off their bodies yet acting innocent and hurt once someone finally decided to use them for the only thing they were actually good for.

But you Jason hated the most. You reminded him that no matter how much he hated the outside world, he would always hate himself the most. He had to admit you were pretty, painfully so, with a perfect little body to match your looks and a sweet sugary smile that almost deceived him years ago. As much as the man regretted his weakness, he had fallen right into your trap at the time.

You weren’t the most popular girl, but you had your fair share of friends, all nice and loyal like puppies. You weren’t the smartest either, but unlike the other stupid giggling sluts you always tried to do your best. You were beautiful just like them but you were actually kind to the pathetic bullied kid no one else bothered to acknowledge even existed outside of being a punching bag. You always asked him whether he was alright and often took him to the infirmary when he looked paler and sicker than usual. You talked to him as if he was a normal human being and despite the initial doubt, Jason appreciated it. 

It was the last day of your senior year when the teen finally gained the courage to confess. He was shaking the whole time and by the end of his little speech there were small tears in the corner of his eye. You were the first girl the male cared about, the first one to show him kindness, to offer him friendship without asking for something in return. You were the only one who could make him feel deserving of love, worthy of affection. And then you took it all away in a matter of seconds.

“I am sorry, bud.” You had said that day after giving him a  half - hearted hug and an apologetic smile, that started to seem more and more like a mocking grin the longer the teen started at you. “I already have a boyfriend, but I am really flattered. I am sure that you will find a lovely girl once you start college.” You had added quickly, cheerfully, rubbing the salt all over his wounds, honey dripping from your plump red lips. He had wanted to kiss them, bruise them, bite them until your stupid lying mouth was filled with blood. Obviously you didn’t have a boyfriend or he would have known by now, he stalked your social media religiously after all. Even if you had one, he probably treated you like shit. And how could you even suggest him finding another woman? As if he wanted any of the stupid money - grabbing sluts out there. As if some of them could replace you.

The boy was too furious to form a proper response besides “Fuck you, bitch”. His cheeks turned red and he didn’t realise that the bitter words had escaped his lips before he could stop them, then his legs took him far away from that shithole of a school. He didn’t manage to see your reaction before running away but it didn’t matter anymore. You were just like the others. 

***

That day Jason swore to show you just how small and insignificant you had made him feel. He wanted to see you crumble, cry and beg for forgiveness, desperate for his love but never good enough to get it. The man formed a plan to change himself and come back for you once he had erased each and every trace of his past. The brunette came to terms with his terrible social anxiety and decided that he needed to gain social abilities more than anything. That’s why, as much as he dreamt of working from home as a boring programmer with an even more boring, but flexible working schelude, the male chose to study something that involved a lot more human interactions. The next step was to hit the gym for the first time and get a monthly subscription. It wasn’t hard to see that females nowadays liked brain - dead athletes with defined jawline and cheekbones, toned chests and strong muscled bodies, so if he wanted to impress you, he had to look his best. It wasn’t easy at first - it felt like everyone in the fitness salon had their eyes on his weak frame, laughing and pointing their fingers at his imperfections, but things gradually got better as time went on. The trainings became easier to get through and from time to time they even helped the man forget about his loneliness and nihilism. 

Jason soon returned to his old habbit of spending hours looking through your accounts - Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, he knew all of your usernames, each post, every picture and text. He couldn’t believe how much of a desperate attention whore you had become over the years. The male remembered you in your long brown skirts, cozy sweatshirts and pure-white shirts, all the gray buttons closed to the very top, blushing, laughing, smiling like the adorable Goody-two-shoes you were. Now you were smirking seductively in every photo, overconfident and vibrant, flaunting your tits for every man to see and wearing tight little dresses that barelly covered your ass combined with heels so high and sharp they could be used as a weapon. You were such a stupid slut it was disgusting, and he couldn’t stop himself from jerking off every single time he saw your pretty little face on the screen. He wanted to cum down your throat so badly it was ridiculous, and even after knowing that you had probably already had hundreds of cocks shoved deep inside your pussy, the brunette still wished to see you split open on his, taking his lenght like a good little cocksleeve. 

***

The moment when he could see you again finally came. How many years had passed since graduation - five, ten, fifthteen? It hardly mattered. Jason was successful, at last. The male had his own business that was doing surprisingly well, there were some guys from the gym he could call friends and the best thing, he looked absolutely unrecognizable. There was nothing left of the tiny scrawny kid with quiet voice that everyone stepped over, he was now replaced by a strong capable man, determined to get what was rightfully his and his alone.

It wasn’t hard to find you since the brunette knew everything about you - where your job was, what time you finished, how long it took you to go home and what path you took. You lived alone and worked as a barista in a small local cafe even now that you had finished your studies in your dream faculty. Turns out the princess wasn’t so great and smart after all, having to resort to working a minimal - wage job day and night just to be able to pay her rent. Jason was absolutely delighted though, he loved your stupid dead - end job and your endless struggles to survive in the materialistic world honestly and fairly without selling yourself like a common whore. On one hand the male was happy that you had clung onto your last bit of innocence and on the other your pitiful lifestyle gave him the chance to snatch you away much easier. And that’s exactly what he did.

 ***

You woke up confused just like he had expected, bombarding him with questions, asking him who he was was, begging him to let you go, to at least explain what’s happening. You were so dumb, but God, you were still so pretty, if not prettier than before. You cried so beautifully when Jason told you you belonged to him now and you cried even more when he slammed his cold rough lips over yours in a deep wet kiss. You whimpered and whined while the male sucked on your lower lip and bit down, good, he wanted it to hurt. The stalker couldn’t wait to be inside you, he couldn’t hold back anymore. 

He climbed on top of you and pinned your wrists to the floor before tying them up with delicate red rope and tightening it. It wasn’t like the man was scared of you slipping away and hurting him, you were too weak and tiny to stand a chance against his years of power - lifting and muscle - training anyways, he just wanted you to be as uncomfortable and squirmish as possible. Your tormentor wished for you to be in worse pain than he had been during his youthful years, and he knew exactly what to do. Next thing you knew Jason had ripped your dress apart, leaving you vulnerable and exposed in just your plain old panties and bra. Cold shivers ran down your spine when the chilly air hit your naked flesh and you finally realized there wasn’t getting away from this. You had to stay there, limbs bound together, unable to move or fight back, the stranger’s hands caressing your neck before moving dangerously close to your clothed breasts. You felt so sick you were going to throw up for sure if your abductor didn’t step back so you decided to use your last resort.

“Jason, please stop!” You screamed out of the blue, forcing the brunette to freeze instantly at the use of his birth name. You had already called him a pervert and a psycho which didn’t seem to faze him, but the name clearly caught him off guard. This only seemed to prove your theory further - the man really was your former classmate, despite the only similarity between them being the dark distant look in his eyes. “I beg you, don’t hurt me!” You continued, hoping to at least buy yourself more time before the assault took place. 

He gulped loudly and stared at your quivering form. The impossible had happened, you had recognized him and now together with fear, there was also pity in your gaze, the one emotion your captor absolutely despised. You used to be the only one who pitied him, and even now that he was bigger, better and stronger than before, you still had the guts to pity him. It drove him insane but any attempt to hurt or touch you was fruitless now - your soft skin was suddenly burning his fingers like hellfire. 

“You must be thinking that I am a monster.” Jason started out dryly, chuckling bitterly, humorlessly even. He clenched his fists unconsciously and brought them to the floor in a fit of rage, missing your head by mere inches. Your heart was beating like crazy and you only hoped the mandman couldn’t hear it. “A freak.” The man spat out the word like it was a curse and for a split second his eyes softened before turning into two spinning torches. “Right?” You were sure that if looks could kill, his would have you dead by the end of the night so you quickly nodded your head no.

“You are lying to me again, pretty girl.” The brunette replied feisty, "pretty” rolling off his tongue like an insult. Then he broke into hoarse maniac laugher and lowered his head so his face leveled up with yours, so close you could feel his warm breath on your tear - stained cheek. “When I am done with you, you wouldn’t be so pretty anymore, darling.” Your captor growled and attacked your neck, sinking his teeth deep into the flesh. “You will see exaclty how ugly my love is.”

[marauderundercover]

This Side of Normal Ch. 10

AO3

Prev

Marinette glances around the silent table, willing Jason to say something. Or do something. Or even Dick. She needed one of them to start a conversation, because Adrien hated awkward silences. And if this silence went on much longer, he was definitely going to say something and then she would regret it. Horribly. 

“These rolls are purr-fect.” Adrien says, out of nowhere. Marinette lets out a groan, of course he’d skip straight ahead to the cat puns. Of course that’s where his freaking mind was tonight. 

“Aren’t they? I’d say Alfred’s cooking is pretty claw-some, myself.” Dick speaks up, grinning at Adrien. Marinette looks at him, wide eyed. 

“That’s it. I’ll find a new trapeze partner and a new best friend. Both of you are out of my life.” She deadpans, ignoring Adrien’s offended gasp. 

“But Bugaboo, who else would give you a hand with your crazy schemes?” Adrien asks, and Marinette turns to him, narrowing her eyes. 

“I swear to god if you take your arm off right now you will never find it again.” She threatens, pointing her fork at him from across the table. 

“But Mari, that joke needs the arm. It doesn’t work without it.” He pouts, she rolls her eyes and turns to Damian. 

“I apologize for him. He thinks he’s funny.” She says, turning her glance back at Adrien. “He’s wrong.” 

“Tt. I’m unbothered by his sense of humor. I have lived with Grayson for eight years. His humor is nothing compared to those horrors.” Damian quips, and Marinette swears his lips almost quirk into a smile. She snorts. 

“Guess I made the right choice in throwing Dick to the curb, huh?” She teases, ignoring Dick’s gasp and Adrien’s reassurance to the man. Honestly, who was the adult here? 

“It was for the best, Dupain-Cheng.” Damian says and Marinette winces slightly. The only person who called her by her last name (in regular conversation, anyway) was Chloe. And while the girl had long since given up full on bullying her, she still wasn’t Marinette’s best friend in the world. 

“You can call me Marinette, my last name is kind of a mouthful.” She says, trying to be nonchalant about it. She’d heard him refer to everyone else as their last name the entire evening. She didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, but him calling her Dupain-Cheng was going to make her uncomfortable in the long run. 

“Very well.” He says, and though he doesn’t say her name, she still counts it as a win. A throat clearing catches her attention and she glances at Jason who was glaring at Damian. 

“What’s up, Jay?” She asks, quirking an eyebrow. 

“Nothing Pixie Pop. Just thinking about the time you kicked the ass of that would be mugger.” He says, and Marinette frowns. Mugger? “You know, the one that was obsessed with you?” He clarifies, and she understands. Copycat had been reakumatized during Jason’s stay in Paris. And he had wanted nothing more than a date with Ladybug. Though, she couldn’t understand why he was bringing it up now. 

“I am so lost.” She admits, shaking her head at her pseudo-brother. He grins. 

“That’s fine, just sharing that you can kick ass with the table. In case someone wants to try something.” He says pointedly. Oh. He definitely caught the heart eyes she sent Damian back in the gym. Can he blame her, though? Her weakness was green eyes. And Damian’s were the greenest. 

“I did walk in on you hogtied, Todd. I assumed she was a reputable fighter after that.” Damian says, and Marinette blushes furiously. 

“I’m sorry, what happened?” Mr. Wayne asks, his vapid (and fake) smile replaced with a faux look of bewilderment. She briefly wondered if it was exhausting, putting on a constant act, until she remembered how tired she was throughout collège, before she started lycée and decided she didn’t really care. Yeah, acting constantly was tiring. But why did he do it? Jason nudges her lightly and she blinks, focusing back on the conversation. 

“Oh, Jason and I sparred. He apparently had forgotten that I use my surroundings to my advantage and that Adrien is always on my side.” She explains, shooting Jason a smug smile. Jason huffs. 

“Not always.” He says, and Marinette raises an eyebrow, crossing her arms and giving him a challenging look. 

“Oh really? Name one time that Adrien took your side instead of mine.” She challenges. She grins as Jason starts to think, obviously wracking his brain. 

“Earlier today!” Adrien pipes up, and she immediately turns to him, glaring. 

“What?” She asks, confused. What had- oh. Of fucking course. “That doesn’t count!” She protests, narrowing her eyes. 

“Why not?” Adrien asks, raising an eyebrow in a challenge. She scoffs. 

“Because it wasn’t a fight or argument or anything. It was a joke.” She says. 

“Are you talking about the adoption shit, cause that was definitely not a joke. All the kids B adopts definitely have trauma and certain features.” Jason cuts in, and Marinette sighs. Of course he would clue in. 

“But- no. No. That was a fluke. A glitch in the matrix, obviously. You literally cannot name a singular other time. And technically, ya big jerk, you didn’t even name this time. Adrien did.” Marinette points out, glaring at Jason. 

“I’m sorry, how long have you three known each other?” Mr. Wayne cuts in again, and this time- this time- she sees that some of the confusion on his face is real. But it looks odd, like he wasn’t used to expressing a real emotion. She really needed to remind herself to talk to Jason about this later. She didn’t necessarily want to make it a habit to stick billionaire fathers with asshole tendencies in jail, but she would. She’d do it for her boys. Any day of the week. She hums in thought, adding up the time. The anniversary of Gabriel’s defeat had been a few weeks ago, which meant-

“We’ve known Jason for just over a year.” She says, before glancing at Adrien and grinning. “But I’ve been stuck with this goof for four years.”

“You know you love me.” Adrien says with a wide grin. She rolls her eyes. 

“How exactly did you meet Jason?” Mr. Wayne asks, and she kind of wants to throw her fork at him. What was it, interrogate the random kids at dinner night? Though, to be fair, they were random kids in his house. But she refused to like the man until she’d talked to Jason about the potential assholeish tendencies. 

“He helped me learn some self defence after I got caught up in an akuma attack.” Marinette lies smoothly. Well, it was technically a half truth. But the Waynes didn’t need to know that she was always caught up in akuma attacks. 

“Akuma?” Mr. Wayne asks, and Marinette glances at Jason with a frown. Had he not told his father about anything? Not even the basics? 

“Wait, is that what the thing that flooded Paris is called?” Dick asks suddenly and Marinette nearly flinches from the memory. That was one of the akumas that still gave her nightmares. One of the ones that was burned in the back of her eyelids when all she wanted was to sleep. And not think about bloated corpses and dead classmates for one goddamn minute. She lets out a steadying breath, glancing at Jason whose face had changed from annoyance to concern. She resists the urge to roll her eyes. She could talk about akumas. It was the past. Sure, she had refused all of the therapy options her parents gave her and Adrien, but she didn’t need it. She was fine. 

“Yeah. Technically, her akumatized name was Siren. But, the general term for those attacks was ‘akuma’.” She says, gripping her fork a little tighter than necessary, grounding herself with Tikki’s reassuring nudges from inside her purse. 

“There were more?” Dick asks, his eyes wide. Marinette glances at Jason and raises an eyebrow. Why had he not said anything? He’d been there for an entire month of Hawkmoth’s reign. He’d seen dozens of akuma attacks. Jason shrugs. Thank Jay. Super helpful. 

“When you get down to it, there were probably hundreds if not thousands more. Some people, like Siren, were turned into the same akuma several times. Some people became a different akuma when they were akumatized again. I think it just depended on the person or their issue.” Marinette explains, hating how dry her mouth felt all of a sudden. She could talk about this. She could. So why was everything a little too bright? Why was the sound of forks against plates a little too loud? 

“Did the Justice League stop it?” Damian asks, though by his tone, he seems to already know the answer. Odd. 

“No, the local heroes did. Ladybug and Chat Noir.” Marinette says, ignoring the constricting feeling in her chest. 

“Why-” Mr. Wayne starts, but Jason clears his throat. Everyone glances at him, and Marinette is unsurprised to see the flicker of anger in his eyes. Especially after she glances at Adrien and sees how pale he’s gotten. She kicks him lightly under the table to get his attention, frowning at him in a silent question. He nods, slightly. She purses her lips, not believing for a second that he was actually okay. But they could talk later. Away from eager ears. 

“I’m sure you remember what Dick said about my phone call from when I first arrived in Paris. Marinette and Adrien dealt with attacks like that interrupting their day to day lives from thirteen to sixteen. I get that you’re not the best at knowing when to drop the damn topic, but I really think you should drop the damn topic.” Jason says, and though he’s smiling, Marinette can see the danger behind it. The warning. ‘Drop it, or I’ll make you’. 

“My apologies, it was just so interesting.” Mr. Wayne says and this time Marinette winces at the falseness in his voice. And the smile on his face. God, this man could not have lasted a day in Hawkmoth’s Paris. 

---

Finally, finally, dinner was over. After the akuma talk ceased, it was extremely awkward. Mr. Wayne looked like he would rather be anywhere else. And Marinette couldn’t blame him, wanting nothing more than to get back to her hotel room and away from the constant lack of real emotion on the eldest Wayne’s face. It was tiresome, just watching him. 

“Thanks again, for having us.” Marinette says, mostly directing her comment to Dick and Alfred. Alfred just nods. 

“Of course! Come back any time. Really soon, actually, so we can work more on the trapeze. I can’t lose my new trapeze buddy.” Dick says with a wide smile. Marinette holds back a sigh, nodding instead. She liked Dick, she did. But she’d definitely have to make sure that Mr. Wayne wouldn’t be around. She still wasn’t sure what to think of him. 

“You should also spar with me, some time.” Damian speaks up and Marinette blinks in surprise. 

“Spar. With...you?” She says, tilting her head in confusion. That came out of nowhere. 

“Yes. You took down Todd easily, and I am far superior. You would actually have a challenge if we sparred.” He says. She smirks, and suddenly, with a burst of confidence she didn’t know she had, says:

“Sure thing, Pretty boy.” Before turning and walking straight out the door. The second she’s outside, she drops her head into her hands. “I can’t believe I just said that.” She mumbles under her breath. 

“Pretty boy?” Adrien says with a smirk, she glares at him and moves down the front steps. 

“Fuck you.” She says, no real venom in her voice. The boy knew how she got around crushes. He’d seen it firsthand. With him. With Luka. With Kagami. With the girl with bright green eyes who worked at the coffee shop across the street from the bakery. She was an absolute disaster. He was worse, but still. He wasn’t the one with the quickly developing crush on the youngest Wayne. 

“Pretty boy?” Jason asks, a scowl on his face as he catches up to the two. 

“Not another word, Jason.” She scowls at him, crossing her arms defiantly. He holds his hands up in surrender. 

“Sure.” He says. Her mind rushes suddenly to her previous thought. Youngest Wayne. Damian Wayne. Hadn’t Lila- she snorts, before erupting into uncontrollable laughter, ignoring the worried looks from Adrien. 

“I- oh my god, Jay.” She manages to say, straightening up and following Jason to the car he was borrowing to drive them back to the hotel.

“I’m completely lost.” He says.

“Join the club.” Adrien adds, and Marinette just laughs again. 

“Your little brother is Damian Wayne.” She says, as if it should be obvious. Jason doesn’t get it, and neither does Adrien. But after a moment-

“Oh my god, that’s hilarious!” Adrien cries, letting out a chuckle. Jason huffs as the trio get into the car. 

“Care to share with the class?” He asks, and Marinette snorts. 

“Absolutely not, I dislike the majority of those people.” She says, referring to the group who was hopefully already in their rooms and not in the lobby of the hotel. “Now it’s funny that your brother is Damian Wayne because Lila made us come to Gotham instead of New York and London, because she’s dating him.” She explains and Jason scoffs. 

“Yeah right.” 

“Obviously she’s not actually dating him, Jay. But it’s freaking hilarious that she thinks she’s gonna get away with it. He definitely goes to Gotham Academy, and people are definitely going to call her out.” She says, not even trying to hide the absolute glee she’s feeling. If there was ever a time for all of Lila’s lies to come crashing down around her, now would be good. When she can’t just run away and claim Marinette set it up. If people Marinette didn’t even know called Lila out, well, that would be irrefutable evidence, right? 

“Her regime is gonna topple and I’m gonna take you guys out for ice cream to celebrate.” Jason declares and Marinette laughs again. She was so against the idea of Gotham originally, but now, with Jason at their sides again, she’d decided that it wasn’t so bad. Suddenly remembering what had been on her mind most of the night, she turns to Jason. 

“Jay, I have a serious question. And I know it’s a little hard to talk about but just know that we’re here for you to support you, and that we’ll figure out a way to make sure you and your brothers are safe and-” 

“Whoa, Pix, calm down kiddo. You’re rambling again.” He says gently, furrowing his eyebrows. He pulls the car over to the side of the road and turns to put his full attention on the two. “What’s bothering you?” He asks. 

“Is Mr. Wayne abusive?” She asks and Jason blinks. “I saw how hesitant you were to call him your father, and you were tense around him a lot of the night. And I don’t think the man had one legitimate expression all night. He was acting the whole time.” Marinette says, looking at him worriedly. “Look, Jay, I don’t necessarily want to make a habit of putting billionaires in jail, but I’d do it for you.” 

“Is he- you would-” Jason stops and lets out a breath, obviously trying to compose himself. “No, kiddo, he’s not.” He finally says. Marinette frowns. 

“Really?” She asks, and he sighs. 

“Yeah, look. Our relationship has been...rough, for a couple years. We had a sort of falling out when I was a teenager and I stopped talking to him for several years. We reconnected a while ago, but it’s still rocky at times. I don’t usually call him dad or father or anything. He’s just Bruce, or B, to me.” Jason explains and Marinette nods, letting out a small sigh of relief. 

“I was worried, Jay.” She admits, and Jason grins at her before pulling away from the curb again. 

“I didn’t even catch on.” Adrien says with a frown. Marinette rolls her eyes, smiling at him with fondness. 

“Course you didn’t Kitty. Reading people isn’t really your strong suit.” She says with a small smile. He huffs, but nods in agreement. 

“True.” He says and Marinette laughs. She could officially take Bruce Wayne off her ‘threat to be dealt with immediately’ list and move him to ‘possible future annoyance’ list. A big improvement for the man, and it would mean she wouldn’t be as tense around him the next time she saw him.

Next

Tag list: @toodaloo-kangaroo @laurcad123 @kittenmywaythrulife @lost-in-the-world-of-maribat @queenz-z @daminette-56

[nightingaelic]

Not a good idea, maybe, but still... NV Followers' reaction to how the Courier tells the follower that sometimes all their adventures seem like a kind of deathbed dream to them (a bullet in the head after all...)

Just know, anon, that I am strongly resisting the urge to go full Shane Madej and Ryan Bergara with every single one of these reactions.

"Maybe this is all just... me." The courier waved their hand through the scorching air, tracing the shimmering line of the horizon that sang false promises of water. "A mirage. An oasis in the desert that I can't quite reach, but my eyes keep telling me is there if I just walk far enough."

Their hand went to the scar on their forehead. "I don't know. The things I've seen, since Goodsprings... if I told them to half the people in the Mojave, they'd toss me in the same shack as No-bark. HELIOS One? The Burned Man, in the crispy flesh? Jason Bright and his followers? Hell, the Sierra Madre? How do I know I didn't actually bite the dust in that graveyard, and all of this is the work of the bullet Benny put in my noggin?"

Arcade Gannon: "I guess there isn't a very convincing way I can answer that question," Arcade admitted. "But the fact that I know exactly how close you came to dying could be some evidence to the contrary. I doubt you were walking around with much medical knowledge about cranial vulnus sclopetarium prior to encountering it firsthand."

The courier looked somewhat interested, so the researcher continued hesitantly. "Did that doctor who checked you out not explain what happened to your brain? It's honestly a miracle that you're still walking around."

"I might've been a little preoccupied with the shock of being awake," the courier admitted. "Here, show me."

They guided Arcade's hand to the wound site, which he felt gingerly, trying not to awaken any pain. "Okay, close, very close range, left side... trajectory was too high, so it missed the speech center... probably sustained the most damage in the frontal and parietal lobes... well that tracks, that would affect problem-solving skills and spatial relationships..."

"Arcade?"

"Mm-hm?"

The courier grinned. "Just keep talking to me in Latin and I'll stop caring whether I'm dead or not. It sounds nice."

Arcade blushed.

Craig Boone: "Mmm." Boone pondered the thought, but immediately felt the shadow of guilt fall over his shoulders. Had any of his targets felt that way as they lay dying? Had Carla? He tried to shake the feeling off before it reached his face.

The courier, for their part, didn't notice, or at least knew enough to pretend not to notice. "That snake Benny was using a handgun, too, and who knows what caliber," they said, looking off into the distance.

"Low," Boone offered.

"Come again?"

"The bullet," Boone clarified. "It's still in your head. Slow and small caliber, if you're not already dead from it."

"But I could already be dead from it."

"Nah."

The courier looked as though they wanted to probe further, but Boone straightened his sunglasses and walked past them, signaling that the conversation was over. Headshot wounds, hypotheticals, they weren't his strong suit, but he did know one thing: The orders he had followed and the lives he had ended were far too real to be the figment of some Mojave wastelander's imagination.

Lily Bowen: "Come now, dearie, you're giving your imagination too much credit." Lily patted the courier lightly on the shoulder. Well, as lightly as a nightkin could. "Grandma's seen many strange things too, ever since she left the vault behind."

The courier smiled. "Stranger than the ones I've seen? Like what?"

Lily made an ugly face. "I saw many things when working for the Master. Golden geckos in Klamath. Ghosts in Baja. The Master himself, with his brain in the computers and the computers in his brain."

"Eugh." The courier mimicked the face Lily was making. "One of those, huh? Always seemed unsanitary to me."

"Good things too," Lily went on wistfully. "I saw Marcus' first city, when it was big and full of people. Humans, but also super mutants, ghouls. How I would have liked to take Becky and Jimmy there."

Her voice faltered a little, remembering the grandchildren that had been lost, left behind long ago. The courier reached out and took her hand. "I'm here, Lily."

After the memory passed, Lily returned to her smiling self. "You are, pumpkin. We're here together."

Raul Alfonso Tejada: "I know how you feel, boss." Raul sighed. "There are plenty of things in my past that I can't help but question the authenticity of. All I can say is that after a while, you stop asking and just go along for the ride."

"Right." The courier crossed their arms. "I suppose it's not that different a mindset from becoming a ghoul. Time stretching on in front of you, no clear end in sight, no expectation there will ever be one."

"Eh." Raul shrugged. "That might just be a mindset of mine. I stopped worrying about dying a long time ago. Or maybe I was looking for it, but never managed to find it. Either way, time doesn't bother me the way it used to."

"But it still does?"

"Sí. Now I worry more that I'll forget the crazy things I've seen altogether, or that they don't mean anything."

The young courier looked like they weren't quite ready to ponder that possibility. They stood together in silence for a while, watching the horizon's haze.

"Should we keep going?" the courier finally asked, shouldering their pack.

"Desde luego."

Rose of Sharon Cassidy: "Sometimes I wonder the same thing," Cass replied with a nod. "Well, not the exact same thing, but somethin' similar. Plenty of times in my life, I've woken up in someone else's bed or on the floor of a bar and wondered if I actually survived the fight I was in the night before, or if I finally drank enough to make my heart stop. It's a strange feeling, but then someone douses me in water or slaps me too hard on the ass and the pain of the wakin' world creeps back in, little by little."

"Do you slap them back?" the courier joked, chuckling.

"Them and the world," Cass confirmed. "I always figured if I'd actually died in my sleep, why bother makin' up some desert full of sadness and sunburns to fill my time? Had enough of that in life, so I can't see my mind keepin' it around. Much rather conjure up a house by the beach somewhere, with a basement full of caps and enough booze to last me 'til the bombs fall again."

The courier eyed her mischievously. "Maybe you're in hell."

Cass held her canteen up. "Well then. To bein' stuck in hell with a true friend."

She drank, long and deep, and the courier retrieved their canteen to do the same.

Veronica Santangelo: "Oh, Six." Veronica's face filled with sympathy. "Is that really what you think about, when you're trying to sleep at night in the casino and Cass is snoring in the bed next to you?"

The courier blinked. "Cass snores?"

"How have you not noticed?" Veronica pulled her power fist off and flexed her fingers, re-stimulating her circulation as best she could. "Arcade said he wanted to trade with me, after Boone had his second night terror incident, but he changed his mind again after one night of her racket. At this point, I'm used to it. When she's not around, I have trouble sleeping, can you believe that? Brotherhood bunks really prepared me for the Lucky 38."

"No, I hadn't noticed." The courier sat down on a nearby rock and stretched their legs out. "I guess I haven't been there much, lately."

Veronica sat down next to them. "You know, the more often you're gone having adventures around the desert, the more crazy things you're going to see. People who rest on their laurels and stick to the Strip don't lie awake wondering if they actually died back when they choked on those buffalo gourd seeds at The Gourmand."

"Touché."

ED-E: The eyebot let out a few beeps of disagreement and rolled from side to side in mid-air, indicating as best it could that in its experience, being shot in the dome was a good method for scrambling circuitry but was actually terrible for fusing new connections. The courier laughed and reached out to rub the robot's side. "Thanks, buddy. Maybe I'm right, or maybe reality is just a weird place."

ED-E beeped its satisfaction and bounced forward as if chasing the mirage. The courier trailed after the eyebot, their giggles blowing out with the wind into the desert for all to hear.

Rex: The old cyberdog whined and licked its companion's hand, uncertain what they were asking. Any dreams the canine had were good ones, long runs over grassy plains and prey that was always a hair too slow. Life with the courier was good too, but full of many more dangers than a savannah dotted with rabbits and deer. The courier scratched the dog on his ruff affectionately, before continuing over the hot sand toward their destination. Rex followed behind, happy and panting.

[moonbaby26]

(gif from Jason Passaro’s youtube edit here)

Title: One Shitty Friday Night (Part 1)

Pairings: Peter Maximoff x Fem!Reader, Colossus x Shadowcat

Summary: Set after the events of Deadpool 2, you and your boyfriend Peter are on a double date downtown with your fellow X-Men Piotr Rasputin (Colossus) and Kitty Pryde (Shadowcat) when Deadpool and Russell arrive unexpectedly. Chaos and violence naturally ensues, including taking down mafia henchmen, dealing with news media and paparazzi who circle in with the action, and a jealous Peter. This will be concluded in Part 2 with the mixed reactions of Logan, Charles, and Erik when you all bring Wade and Russell back home, etc. 😄

Notes: For simplicity’s sake as Piotr R. is normally called “Peter” as well, he’ll just be referred to as Colossus here.

Warnings: Some alcohol use. And it’s Deadpool, so a lot of cursing and irreverent jokes of course. This started out as just crack!fic that became actual fic that had to be split into two parts because it hit post limit. Holy cow.

Peter Maximoff x Reader Masterlist

—————————

Kitty all but snorted, trying to put her drink back down on the table before it could end up fully sideways instead as her laughter left her trembling.

Colossus sighed quietly, but you could still see the warmth in his eyes as he looked down at her before helping dab up some of her errant wine off the table with a thick cloth napkin.

It was late Friday night, and save for your semi disapproving, large and very Russian designated driver, the other three of you were now several drinks deep and a bit too loudly enjoying Peter’s retelling of the Led Zeppelin cover band debacle. You’d been there with him that night, but it never got old the way Peter told it.

“I shit you not, and this guy still keeps hitting on Jean.” Peter continued, his third nearly empty glass of craft beer still in hand. “Scott’s about to fry the dude. They’re playing Immigrant Song, and these lasers start up. All dudebros in the club go wild, and Scott tries to sneak off a warning shot. Freaking air balls it! I have to move like forty people and it still blows a damn hole in the wall. But nobody even noticed! Fake Robert Plant is screaming his heart out and everybody is just eating it up. I swear my Dad could have flown in there, cape billowing and they still would have thought it was part of the show!”

You were at risk of being elbowed in this small restaurant booth, with how animated Peter was as he spoke beside you. But you didn’t mind. The lighting was dim, possibly verging on romantic, the smell of good food from the kitchen reminded you of what was to come, and you were just enjoying time with some of your favorite people.

When Peter did finally drop his hand again though, the not so subtle movements of it then up your thigh also promised something much more personal later tonight. Maybe it was the warmth from the mixed drinks you were also nursing, but you shifted your leg a little, pushing even more into his touch under the table. Your movement just signaled your silent agreement to him that tonight would be a perfect night to be throwing clothes on the floor as soon as you got back to your shared room at the mansion.

It’d been a long, tiring week after all. Helping teach classes during the day and training your ass off in the danger room every night, you didn’t think it was unreasonable to cut loose a bit now.

Even Colossus was chuckling a little at last, but the big guy was always softest around Kitty. You in particular had been one of her biggest supporters when she’d first confessed her attraction towards him. You’d noticed his bashfulness with her as well, and all the little glances he’d given her long before she’d ever worked up the courage to ask him out.

But that seemed so long ago now, it was hard to really remember a time when they weren’t together. Almost as long as you and Peter really.

You glanced up as the waiter came back by to check on you all, saying your food would be out in a few more minutes and asking if anyone needed more drinks.

“Oh gosh, we’re really running up the tab right?” Kitty smiled.

You could see the little bit of relief in Colossus’ expression as she waved the waiter off though, her current wine glass still nearly full. “I’m fine for now, thank you.”

Peter glanced at you and you nodded as well. A buzz was fine, but you didn’t want to be climbing the mansion stairs full on drunk tonight. “I’m good.”

As the waiter left, your conversation got a little more subdued. You leaned into Peter somewhat, hip to hip in the booth as he put his arm around your waist.

Kitty was now talking about a movie she thought you should all go see next weekend if you could. You were just in the process of agreeing as you’d wanted to see it too, when Colossus suddenly went stock still, a look of real surprise on his face.

Kitty evidently noticed as soon as you did, you both staring up at him in unison.

“Do not turn around,” He instructed to you and Peter, eyes locked on something behind you.

Of course when told to do one thing, it would take everything in Peter’s willpower to not do the opposite. But to his credit he actually did hesitate. “Do we need to be dodging something? I mean, I can move us if I need to, man. You just gotta let me know.” Peter stated.

“I don’t think he’s seen us yet. Please do not draw attention.” Colossus responded, still frustratingly vague to the rest of you.

But he hadn’t metaled up yet, his skin still entirely human looking. So on the plus side, it couldn’t be someone he thought an immediate physical threat.

You glanced to Kitty for some hope of explanation as she was seated beside Colossus and facing the same direction. But she was too short in comparison to him, and couldn’t see all the way across the booth dividers as easily as he could. “Well who is it?” Kitty demanded quietly.

But you heard an impatient voice carry over clearly from the nearby restaurant entrance.

“Look, you know he’s here. I know he’s here. Don’t make me leave you guys a bad Yelp review. I will totally Karen that shit up. I’m just here for him.” A pause. “...And some of the cannolis. God, I love those things. You went a little scarce on the filling last time though. Don’t make me add that to the Yelp review.”

You heard the hostess stutter, fear evidently building. “Sir, firearms are not allowed in this restaurant. The owner, he, I...I can’t.”

There was a loud sigh from the man, the distinct sound of a gun cocking, and then all hell broke loose.

“WADE!” Colossus screamed, your entire table flipping as he stood up, metal now encasing him in this even larger form.

Abruptly you were now standing back by the entrance yourself. Peter had one arm around you, and the other around Kitty as he let you both go just as instantly, having just brought you there before he disappeared again.

That little flare up of vertigo from the speed and sudden stop didn’t mix well with the alcohol, and she and you both stood there another moment, queasy as Peter appeared again with an armful of guns.

It would have been comical as he clearly had no idea where to put them now, but everyone else that had still been in the restaurant was already screaming and running for the doors in a panic.

The owner of the multiple guns couldn’t care less about the crowd however, only turning his full focus to the lot of you then in exasperation.

“Oh my God, you anti second amendment, mother fuckers. I’m in the middle of a job here!”

“You can’t just point guns at innocent people, Wade! We have talked about this many times!” Colossus retorted, all seven foot of him now standing over Deadpool with paternal like annoyance.

“For fuck’s sake, it’s called a threat. I wasn’t going to kill her you overprotective, asshat! Now Giovanni is probably holed up in some pussy ass panic room, or he’s already ghosted me out the back door! And yes, I know that is such a stereotypical mob boss name and totally sounds like the Pokemon villain. Fuck him and his always trying to take Pikachu! He had a talking cat the whole time who just wanted his love, but no, got to have the electric rat. Fuck!”

“Language, Wade!” Colossus scolded. “There is still a child present!”

And honestly in all this insanity, that was the first time you actually noticed Russell also still standing there. Everyone else in the room had now fled out into the street.

“I’m fucking fourteen,” The boy replied defiantly. “And yeah, we were working!”

“Daddy and angrier metal daddy are just talking, hon.” Deadpool commented, waving a hand.

There was a small gust of air beside you and you looked to Peter knowingly. Wade’s guns were now all on a table, though intentionally still distant from your current position. “So I just made a couple laps.” Peter spoke up. “The cops are already coming, and there’s still a bunch of guys in the basement. They were opening some crates, probably getting weapons? I didn’t know if we were taking them out yet though. I didn’t touch anything. But is Giovanni like a big dude with gold rings and all?”

“I’m telling you besides the drug and human trafficking, it’s practically more criminal how much he sets back Italian-American stereotypes. They are an honest, manicotti making people goddamn it.” Deadpool answered.

You really were starting to regret the amount of drinks you’d had. If you’d known tonight was going to be anything like this, you would have gladly stuck to water. Your head was already trying to throb a little as you finally spoke. “So, does this guy actually have warrants out on him? If the cops come, they’re all going to end up shooting each other most likely. Can we just defuse this by giving him up to them?”

“I would say we assist to prevent unnecessary bloodshed, if that is the case, yes. I’m sure the Professor would prefer that.” Colossus agreed.

“Freaking goody two shoes, all of you.” Wade sighed. “But he has to get arrested or dead okay? I don’t get paid otherwise.” He paused though, then looking back up to Colossus before suddenly elbowing him. As if he’d even really feel that. “And hello rudeness, are you not going to introduce me to your little girls night out club here before we go bust some heads in a gratuitous X-Force/X-Men hotties crossover?”

“X-Force?” Kitty asked, sounding as already over this as could be.

“Well, we are a little empty on the roster at the moment. Some...unfortunate parachuting incidents. Wind advisory that day. You know how it goes.” Deadpool shrugged.

By her expression, no. She did not know how it went.

But the sooner you started, the sooner this could be over. Colossus motioned to each of you in turn, “Peter, (Y/N), and Kitty. These are my teammates and friends.” He nodded back to Deadpool, “And this is Wade.” And then to the boy. “And Russell.”

Of course you already knew who they both were. It’d been a bit of a scandal really, with the whole Essex House fiasco and the deaths that had occurred there. Fair or not, a lot of the blame had ended up on Juggernaut the second time around though you thought. Which is why Charles hadn’t had to deal with too much bad press in the aftermath.

You could not let this become another Essex House situation for the X-Men though. You were about to speak up about heading to the basement together and Deadpool staying out of your way so you all could neutralize everyone without any fatal hits, when he gasped dramatically, making you freeze again.

“Kitty!? Like an actual girl named Kitty? Oh my God, this whole time I thought you were his cat!” He hit his own leg, laughing. “I’m thinking, holy shit this guy loves his goddamn cat, but who am I to judge you know? I had a dog named Mr. Shuggums. Cutest little fucker.” He took a breath. “I miss him.”

“Wade.” Colossus groaned. “We do not have all night.”

Okay, so there was still something sweet about Colossus gushing about his girlfriend even to this manic mercenary. But no kidding, this show really needed to get on the road here.

“Guys, why don’t we just let Peter disarm them all, Colossus, you grab Giovanni, and Kitty and I deal with anyone who still resists? No one has to get hurt, and then it’s all done, easy.”

“And then we go find somewhere else to eat. Killing me here. I wanted that damn calzone and tiramisu.” Peter sighed, pulling his goggles back down over his eyes again. “More guns coming up.”

He disappeared at once, but when he didn’t return immediately as you were so accustomed to, you and Kitty exchanged a nervous look.

And after only another few seconds, your instincts told you something had definitely gone wrong.

“Is the basement directly beneath us?” You asked Deadpool sharply, already reaching out a hand to Kitty. Your adrenaline was starting, all good feelings gone as it was now time to act.

But you’d worked together long enough now, you didn’t have to explain your plan to her or Colossus.

Yet when the previously mouthy merc had no instant response, just staring at you in thought, it was clear he hadn’t done any recon beforehand at all. He’d literally just walked in here and expected everything to work out.

“Perfect.” Kitty said sarcastically, glancing quickly to Colossus as she took your hand. “You’re our backup, dear, in case our vertical entrance doesn’t work out. Come find us.”

“Always.” He said, already turning, his weight shaking the floor as he ran to look for any stairway downward while you and Kitty dropped straight through the floor.

It was surely a risk of its own to use her phasing ability so blindly as this. You could end up in a too small crawlspace, in underground piping, a sewer system, anything really. She’d make sure not to go solid until it was safe, as to not impale or bury you alive of course. But if Peter were in trouble, there was no time to waste by ending up at a dead end and having to go back up and try again.

You’d held your breath, as there was no way for you to process oxygen either as your lungs and every other part of you shifted through the other matter. It was darkness and insulation, pipes, and conduit that flashed by at first. But in the fractions of seconds that it took to fall, you had already powered up. The white light of your energy field overtaking your body, shielding you both as you did fall into a larger open area.

It was even darker than the restaurant above, all concrete and dampness. The glow from your body was the brightest thing there as much more men than you’d expected all turned in surprise. You saw the glint of multiple gun barrels now, but the thing you wanted to see most was Peter’s silver hair as you’d scanned the area for him instantly.

There was a stairwell in the distance. He was laying near the bottom of it. But you had no time to be shocked or afraid, only anger swelled as you released Kitty’s hand, making you solid again. “I’ll get him.” Was all you said. Letting her know to protect herself as you flew to him. Bullets couldn’t hurt her if she was ready for them. But Peter would be defenseless without one of you now, and by means of your power of flight you were the faster of you and her.

The man closest to Peter had a different kind of gun though you realized. Something you didn’t recognize at all as he aimed at you. You splayed your palms to create an energy shield in front of you as he pulled the trigger.

It didn’t make a sound though. But everything around you instantly distorted as pain exploded through you. You saw five or six of him now, as your feet hit the ground, unable to concentrate enough to fly then. But even as you stumbled, realizing your shielding wasn’t fully stopping whatever that weapon was doing, you were still able to expand your shield rapidly, hitting the man with the force of a car in your pain and sending him flying into a nearby wall, the weapon clattering to the ground lightly against his now limp body.

But you still felt like you were going to puke.

“Kill them you idiots!” Someone screamed.

You dropped yourself, laying over Peter just as quickly, grateful to feel him breathing as you focused through the pain to extend a shield around you both as the gunfire started.

“Bitch!” Another man yelled as Kitty just walked unharmed through all the flying bullets towards you.

“Shadowcat actually,” She said, skilled enough in her powers to choose what was solid and what wasn’t. Just the outside of her fist being all she needed to crush his nose in one punch with a squirt of blood, and only the end of her foot used as she swept her leg after to knock his own right out from under him.

Even among your own team, sometimes people could forget that that petite Jewish girl was about as skilled a martial artist as anyone could be.

“Babe?” You heard against your ear though, glancing back down to Peter. There was real relief even in the chaos as you saw him smile up at you.

He talked back against your ear in the noise as Kitty continued to utterly wreck the guys around you. “I fucked up a little, right? That gun...they already had it going, aimed at the door when I came back, a trap...I think I hit every stair on the way down...I still see like three of you right now.”

“Ditto.” You breathed.

And then there was another even louder noise as the remnants of a door also came flying down the stairs. Colossus barreled in behind it like a stampeding elephant, Deadpool right behind him as they leapt over the both of you and joined the fray.

“We found the basement!” Deadpool announced gleefully, swords swinging. “Don’t think they’d even locked the door back actually, but fuck if big Russki doesn’t love a dramatic entrance!”

For a moment you thought all your words about at least trying not to kill had been for nothing, thinking Deadpool was going to chop these men into literal pieces. But even as blood sprayed left and right, you realized he was just cutting tendons. The men then unable to hold their guns, unable to stand at all as he crippled each he reached in succession.

It was still completely horrific, but hell, how much could you really ask for from someone like him? Especially when you yourself had slammed that one man into a concrete wall as if he were a ragdoll. You glanced over anxiously for a moment, glad to see him shifting a little, but still crumpled exactly where you’d thrown him. He was alive, a small relief at least.

——————————

Obviously the other gunmen hadn’t had a prayer either though once you’d all been down there together.

Colossus already had a still cursing Giovanni slung over one shoulder as you were now helping Peter back up and trying not to step in all the blood as you all walked over to Kitty.

“What a mess...very interesting weapon though,” She spoke of that odd gun that’d been used on you and Peter, it now in her hands as she turned it one way and then another examining it. “I’m bringing this back with us. The police don’t need anything like this. Hank and I can figure out how it works. And how to defend against it hopefully before we run into another one of these out in the field.”

“It seems this Giovanni was more a threat than expected,” Colossus said, giving the still squirming man an unhappy look, before looking back to you all. “Are you alright, Peter?”

“I’m still hungry.” Peter grumbled, an arm over your shoulder to still help stabilize him as his other hand went to his head as if it were pounding. He also had some bruising starting on his face, no doubt from his tumble down the stairs. “I wouldn’t have drank so damn much if I’d known we weren’t going to eat...”

With the speed of his metabolism, that alcohol likely was hitting him pretty hard now on his already empty stomach.

“We should turn this guy over and get out of here.” You agreed. Though you didn’t feel so hot yourself. Still a little nauseous from whatever that weapon did to your senses. But at least you weren’t seeing triple of everything anymore.

“Hold it, girl scouts!” Deadpool piped up, chipper as ever as he grabbed something at Giovanni’s neck before any of you could think to stop him.

The man choked just a moment though, before a piece of metal snapped off into Wade’s hands. It was a necklace, with a symbol of some sort. You saw just a glimpse of it before Deadpool pocketed it. “No proof of finishing the job, no payday for DP. No payday, then no liquor, no coke, no hookers. Am I right?”

It was too difficult to tell when if ever he was serious, and you all chose to ignore his comment, starting back up the stairs. The odd sounds of bullet fragments falling back down the stairwell caught Peter’s attention though as he gave a grossed out look to Wade for a moment.

The now impact deformed bullets were starting to work themselves back out of all the bloody holes in Deadpool’s costume. You knew where you’d seen that before of course, but Peter was the only one that actually said it aloud.

“Damn, you and Logan would be a pair.”

There was a pause, and you could swear even with the mask, you thought you saw Wade’s cheekbones move in a way that signaled he was outright grinning from ear to ear. “At least someone gets it. He still won’t return my calls though. Such a diva lately.”

Once you did get to the top of the stairs, you only found a very agitated Russell standing there, Wade’s guns in his arms. “You took long enough, the cops are outside you know. I’m not going back to jail for you!”

“Cool your tater tots, kid.” Deadpool responded lazily, in no hurry, but grabbing the weapons back to holster them all regardless.

“I could have finished this faster! I would have fried their asses!” Russell argued.

“You would have been shot. Fire does not stop bullets.” Colossus only answered matter of factly.

Russell made a face, but Wade cut him off before he could say any more.

“Now now, listen to metal daddy. No sass. And actually, I think there’s something we should talk about, champ. X-Force is way more badass and all, but we don’t exactly have a training and junior member tier yet. Maybe later. You might want to think about riding home with these guys and checking their setup out. I don’t have any powers myself to relate to you like that, except me being very shootable, devastatingly charming, sexy, smart, and a competitive level Skee-Ball player...”

Deadpool sighed, continuing. “But these guys have a Danger Room. Which is totally not a sex dungeon, yeah I was bummed about that too. But they could let you unleash that school shooter level teenage angst and burn all the shit you wanted until you really figure out your powers.”

Russel bristled. “I’m not a school shooter you prick! And you always said the X-Men were neutered dweebs and-”

Wade coughed loudly, ushering Russell forward suddenly as you all continued to walk. “Hah, kids. Such darlings. Mishear everything don’t they?”

Colossus only answered without offense though. “The offer is still open, Russell. Though you have said no before. The Professor would never turn down a young mutant in need.”

It was Peter who surprised you a little, a smirk on his face as he contributed. “Freaking sweet house too, man. Xavier’s loaded. Big screen TV, a pool, basketball court, your own room, supersonic jet. Bunch of cute girls as well, or cute boys, you know whatever you’re into.”

“I’m not gay.” Russell huffed, but actually looked to be listening now as he didn’t immediately spit back with a sarcastic retort.

Though you gave Peter a weird look and he just grinned. “What? I stayed for you didn’t I, babe? Just saying. I wasn’t exactly on board with the whole team thing before that either. I know where he’s coming from is all.”

“It’s up to you, Russell.” Kitty said more diplomatically, before returning to the matter at hand. “We’re parked at that parking garage two blocks south. Everyone meet back there, Colossus and I will hand this guy over to the cops out front. The rest of you, I’m sure there’s got to be some emergency exit you can sneak out of. Probably better to split up actually. Less attention.”

—————————

Just as Kitty had suggested, Deadpool and Russell went out one way, and you and Peter another. You came out onto another street behind the restaurant. And you’d just finally started to relax again, Peter taking your hand in his own and walking away like an honest to God normal couple for once, just out on the town together before you noticed an oddly placed white van with distinct lettering on it.

Peter saw it too just as the light from a camera hit you both.

“Hell,” You breathed.

“Want to run?” He asked seriously.

“Too late, they’d just film us ditching, and say we had something to hide.”

Your headache was returning in full force you thought as you steeled yourself, seeing the reporter now in a full sprint towards you.

“It’s Quicksilver! And (your codename)! The X-Men are here!” A woman shouted.

As you walked closer to the news van, the camera flashes only increased. It looked like a small group of paparazzi had also camped out here, hoping for this exact result. How did word travel so damn fast?

“Marcia Fletcher, WAFN nightly news!” She introduced herself at once, her camera man there just as quickly, huffing a little from the run as he got you both in focus.

You could see the lights on on his camera as she shoved her microphone in front of you and Peter. “You’re on live coverage of the Ruffiano’s restaurant shootings with WAFN. Is it true that Giovani Marcello was apprehended here tonight by the X-Men? And how did you know he was here when he’s been on Interpol’s most wanted list for four years?”

You knew without looking at him that Peter was happily deferring the speaking role to you now as you tried not to look rattled. You attempted to think of what Charles would and wouldn’t want you to say, even with the pain in your head and lingering nausea. “We didn’t know who was here. We were in the area and saw people running and went to help, that’s all.” You lied.

“But the reports of gunshots, witnesses also said Deadpool had drawn a gun on a restaurant employee and Colossus was seen inside. Is Deadpool now affiliated with the X-Men again? Did he shoot anyone?”

“Deadpool is not affiliated with the X-Men. Colossus was here tonight, but he only would have been defending anyone he thought in danger. Deadpool did not shoot anyone.” You tried to keep to short truths that time.

“But then why was Deadpool there? Should people really believe it would be a coincidence that the X-Men and Deadpool would be at the same incidence at one time if not working together?”

“Well you’re here aren’t you? Are you affiliated with us?” You replied before you could stop yourself, though still restraining the annoyance you really wanted to put into that statement. “Trouble attracts a crowd.”

Peter made a sound, a restrained laugh you knew. But before the reporter could blurt out another question, one of the now growing number of paparazzi called out, “(Your codename), hey look here! Is it true you and Quicksilver are still dating!?”

You knew better than to be baited, humoring any of them just made it worse. They were like piranhas. But Peter couldn’t help it, turning to look as so many cameras flashed. His arm slid around you protectively. “Why wouldn’t we be, dude?” He called back.

“Are you saying the photos of (your codename) and Gambit were before you two reconciling?”

It took every ounce of your self control to not respond, but oh God did you want to. It was the mission in Tanzania. You knew it. You, Storm, and Gambit. Peter had stayed in the U.S. for that one as it’d been the holidays and his Mom had wanted both he and Wanda over for some time together.

After the mission was over, the three of you had ended up on one of the beautiful Tanzanian beaches for a single day. Just a single day to yourselves.

You’d had the audacity to wear a revealing bathing suit though and you and Remy had been photographed together, him shirtless of course because it was a goddamn beach. And laughing and smiling because, surprise, you were friends! And they’d cropped Ororo out in all the closeups for complete loss of context.

It’d been a thing in some of the tabloids for a while, but you really thought that had finally blown over. Of course if anyone asked Remy, he liked to play coy on the whole subject to keep up his God’s gift to all men and women sex symbol status.

“Peter, let’s just go,” You whispered in his ear, sure anything else said would only make things worse.

But you could read him all too well, and when he turned his face to look back at you, you already knew what he was going to do. You didn’t try to stop him, because never would you humiliate him on live television with any type of rejection, but oh, you would never live this one down. Never.

He kissed you hard. And there was nothing fake about it, honestly the kind of kiss usually reserved for your bedroom as you felt heat rising up in you. The camera flashes clicking over and over as you could still taste the alcohol he’d drank before.

When he finally released you again, you gasped a little. He gave the photographers a ‘fuck you’ look, before speaking just to you. “Now we can go.”

“Fly or run?” You breathed.

“Fly please. I’m still about half out of it.” He admitted.

You powered up to some surprised and excited sounds from the crowd. Your whole body glowing white again in the energy you emitted.

“Wait, aren’t you going to stay and talk to the police!?” The reporter shouted.

“They know where to find us if they need us.” You answered, extending your energy field around Peter, before you took off vertically, making sure to get sideways over the rooftops as soon as you could though to breakup their camera angles and finally give you privacy again at last.

You landed gently atop the parking garage only a few moments later, letting him go again as you powered back down.

“Are you mad at me?” He asked, just taking your hand again though.

“No.” You said truthfully. “But, I have no idea what we’ve really just done. We still have to go home...home where the Professor always watches the 10:00 news with his late night tea.”

Peter sighed, only half joking. “We could always go stay with my Mom for a while?”

You just moved in closer, pulling him against you as you laid your head on his shoulder. “We’ll survive, babe. Somehow we always do.”

“I think that says more about you than me though. Pretty sure I’d be face down in a ditch somewhere already if it weren’t for you.”

You chuckled, wrapping your arms around his neck then before raising your head back up to kiss him once more. Much softer this time, and even longer than his jealous little display a few minutes ago.

He made one of his little noises of contentment, hands sliding down to squeeze your butt through the thin pants you were wearing. As he pulled your hips tighter against him, he broke the kiss enough to speak regretfully. “I really was hoping to get lucky tonight...”

“Same.” You smiled. It had been a while. Mostly from you both being so tired by the time you finally got in bed. Passing out on each other had more been the norm the past couple weeks. “We get some food in you, and see where things go?”

“Gross! Get a room!”

You startled at the sudden shouting, having wholly thought yourselves alone up here in the moonlight.

Peter rolled his eyes, yelling back at Russell, “Kid, we have one! And we’d already be back there by now if it wasn’t for your little mafia hunting shenanigans!”

You looked over to see Deadpool and Russell both standing in the doorway to the parking garage stairs.

Wade whistled, leaning back against the doorframe. “Way to take down that Marcia Fletcher a notch! I always found her too uppity to be honest. I think she’s still butt hurt that they didn’t give her the lead anchor spot when Carl Sanderson moved to the early bird morning show. Tanya Meyer on the 5:00 news though, that’s my girl.”

You blinked. “How...how do you know-” It was literally minutes ago, it would have taken them just this long to walk here.

Deadpool lifted up his cell phone. “Facebook live, bitches. Don’t you follow WAFN? The recipes they post from Saturday morning cooking with Pat are always delish.” He looked back down at the phone though, happily reading. “Hah! Peggy Fredrickson from Brewster, New York thinks Marcia’s contouring and drawn on eyebrows are getting worse. Fire your makeup person, Marcia.” He tapped something on the screen. “Like comment! Oh, and Michael Morris from Ridgefield says who wouldn’t do Remy LeBeau. Damn, Michael, all out and proud on main.”

Peter let go of you, taking an annoyed breath. But then looking back to you. “Please let me at least prank Remy, something, anything.”

“But he didn’t do anything.” You replied, though only more stressed now that this was already blowing up on social media.

“Exactly! He should have at least denied it! But no, Mr. cool Cajun can’t admit that you’d actually choose me over him.”

“Hey now, I think you’re looking at this the wrong way, Quickie.” Deadpool interjected. “There’s always the ménage à trois option. I mean he’s French right? And Michael from Ridgefield is just spitting truth. Who wouldn’t want to do Remy LeBeau? He could shuffle my cards anytime.”

“You guys are so fucking weird.” Russell groaned. “Can we go find your damn car now?”

But you didn’t move yet, still looking fully at Peter. “Wade’s just trying to get under your skin. We all know how Remy is. He’d flirt with a piece of cardboard if it suited him. It doesn’t mean anything to him.” You recognized that Gambit was physically attractive of course, you had eyes too after all. But that was the only extent of it. You loved Peter. Not to mention you wouldn’t at all want to get on Rogue’s bad side. She and Gambit were tumultuous enough without someone else being added to the mix.

“This is adorable, really. But I did bring ‘good job team for sending a little girl selling, gentrification funding, pencil dick mob boss to butt fucking federal prison’ cannolis. Want some?” Deadpool offered, lifting up a large takeout box you somehow hadn’t noticed before.

Peter’s shoulders dropped a little, still heavily annoyed though eyeing the box. “So does this mean you’re coming back with us too?”

Wade shrugged, “The kid doesn’t know you guys. What kind of daddy would I be if I didn’t at least go and make sure he actually wanted to stay in your little mutant commune before I ditch him there?”

“You aren’t my damned dad.” Russell said, though almost sounding too tired to argue further at this point. He reached up, taking a cannoli from the box and biting into it as he started to walk back down the stairwell. “What floor is the car on?”

“Just one down from here, you already passed it. Black SUV,” you answered. Colossus and Kitty must not have been here yet if Wade and Russell had made it all the way to the top deck without finding them.

Peter grabbed your hand again, walking with you to the doorway as he grabbed three cannolis out the box begrudgingly with his other hand. He passed one off to you, before biting into the other two in quick succession.

And you only had a moment to see all the thick scarring under Wade’s mask as he lifted it just enough to start eating one himself, before turning to follow you both out and down the stairwell.

———————————

(Concluded in Part 2 here)

[winchester19-67]

Playing Pretend - Part 3

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Sick Reader, Fluff

Word Count: 2,593

Summary: Whenever the subject of marriage is brought up, Dean gets upset by it. You don't want to fight, and yet you can't understand why he is so against marrying you. When you have to play husband and wife for a case, you find that trying to play a happy marriage isn't as hard as you thought it would be despite you hitting a rough patch in your relationship. While playing pretend, you find out something about yourself that you kind of wish you didn't know, and maybe you can get Dean to finally tell you why he's so against marrying you.

A/N: This is Part 3 of Playing Pretend. Feedback is appreciated!

Series Masterlist

"Then, not even a day after Jason packed up and moved out, Christy was mugged in an alleyway a town over."

"She wasn't hurt?" you ask and take a sip of your iced tea that Dean brought over to you, demanding that you drink something to stay hydrated.

"Nope," Jenny, a red-haired girl who introduced herself to you first, tells you. "Christy walked away with a few scrapes but said that the guy who mugged her whispered to her that it was punishment for putting up with her husband for so long."

"And how did he know?"

"No idea," Jenny shrugs. "But, Christy didn't question it even though I still find it a bit creepy."

"Has Christy spoke anymore about the incident?"

"No," Alicia, the blonde one,  tells you as she leans over a bit so that she's able to whisper to you. "We've been good friends since kindergarten and honestly, it's like she never even knew the guy now."

"Weird," you frown. "So she plays it off as he just walked out on her?"

"Yeah," Alicia shrugs. "Why shouldn't she? I mean, that's obviously what he did to her."

"Oh yeah," you nod and take a deep breath. These people don't know that the guy's probably dead, you tell yourself.

"She's filed for divorce," Alicia tells you. "Put all the papers in the mailbox to mail them to his parents' house, went to the store, and when she walked up on her front porch there were the papers laying in front of the door with his name on them."

You have to bite your cheek to keep from laughing. Are these people honestly buying these stories? Do they not understand how ridiculous they sound?

"So she mailed out divorce papers and they got to Jason and he signed them all in the same day?"

"I know it sounds crazy," Jenny tells you. "But it's not the first time that it's happened around here."

"Yeah, I know," you sigh. "My husband and I were debating on whether or not we should buy here."

"Well, I don't think that you have to worry about that because you and him seem to have the perfect relationship," the dark haired one tells you as she motions over towards Dean. What is her name? You know that she introduced herself and yet you just can't seem to remember it.

"Yeah," you sigh. "It might seem that way but you know, nothing's ever perfect."

"Huh-oh," Jenny says. Perfect. You got the gossip's attention. "What do you mean?"

"Well," you sigh as you glance over at Dean as if you're seeing if he's walking your way. "This may be nothing, but Dean's been acting a little odd lately and in the three years that we've been married he's never treated me like this."

"Like what?" the dark haired one asks. Gosh, what is her name?

"Well, he'll tell me that he gets off at five but some days it will be almost the next day before he walks through the front door." Three sets of eyes widen.

"Do you still love him?" Alicia asks you.

"Of course I do," you tell her truthfully. You do love Dean. That part ain't a lie.

"Well, I'm sure that he's probably just been going out to a bar or something. You know how guys are when they're drinking. He probably doesn't mean anything by it."

"Still," you sigh as fake tears well up in your eyes. "It would be nice if he'd let me know."

"Sweetheart." You bring your head up and smile a bit as Dean kneels down in front of you. "You're looking a bit tired. What do you say you and I go rest, alright?" You nod and wave at the other three women sitting around the table. Dean gives them a friendly smile and he nods his head a bit at them. "Ladies," Dean says as he stands up and pulls you along with him. Dean wraps an arm around your waist and you can hear the other three whispering as you both walk away. "You alright?" Dean asks you softly. "You looked like you were about to cry or something."

"I'm fine, babe," you tell Dean as you give him a soft smile. "Playing my part is all."

"Ah, I see," Dean chuckles as you walk around to the front of the house and start walking down the sidewalk. "So what all did you tell them about me?"

"That you stay out later then what you tell me you're going to," you tell him. "Nothing too serious. They think that you're probably going out to bars at night. Why? What all did you tell the guys about me?"

Dean smiles. "Well, I told them how amazing and perfect my beautiful wife is."

"Whatever," you giggle.

"I seriously did," Dean chuckles. "In all of the stories that I heard while talking to them, the wife was always important to the husband even if he was being unfaithful to her or whatever."

You take a deep breath. "Find out anything that you want to share?" you ask him.

"Actually, yeah," Dean says. "So I found out that the wife always had some kind of accident..."

"Within twenty-four hours of the husband packing up and leaving her."

"Exactly," Dean says. "So?"

"So what?" you giggle.

"So did my absolutely adorable wife find out anything interesting?"

"You're ridiculous," you laugh.

"I know," Dean chuckles as he pulls you in and presses a kiss to the side of your head. "Seriously though, anything that I ought to know that might help us with this case?"

You swallow hard and look Dean in the eyes. "Nope," you breathe out even though you know that that's not true. "Nothing at all."

"Alright," Dean sighs.

Your heart breaks knowing that you're lying to Dean. You actually did find out something that might help. You know what made the wives that were left alone different from the ones who were injured. You know and yet you just can't tell Dean because you don't want your theory about what's happening to you to be true.

"Babe?" you move your head to look at Dean and you see a worried expression on his face. "You alright? You zoned out on me."

"Yeah, I'm fine," you smile. "Just thinking about what our next move is."

"Well," Dean sighs. "I think that we should maybe check out Irene's house."

"No, Jenny's."

Dean gives you a look. "Sweetheart, I know that you don't want to believe that that little old sweet lady could be a witch..."

"Trust me, Dean, Irene wasn't the one who was asking all of the personal questions," you tell him. "I think that it's Jenny."

"Well, I know how we can flush her out and find out which one of us is right," Dean tells you.

"How's that?" you ask him.

"I act as bait."

"Dean, no!"

"Hey," Dean tells you softly as he stops walking and turns to that he can gently grab onto your shoulders with both of his hands. "Sweetheart, I'll be fine."

"Not if you die you won't be because I'll kill you."

"Honey," Dean frowns. "I don't think that the guys are dead."

"What do you mean?" you ask him as tears well up in your eyes at the thought of Dean getting hurt.

"I think that she's hiding them somewhere."

"Why?"

Dean shrugs. "Why do witches do anything that they do?"

You laugh a bit as Dean leads you up onto your front porch. You love seeing the happiness in Dean's eyes. You don't know if it's this case or maybe even you but you know there's definitely something that has Dean so giddy.

"Man, I'm stuffed," Dean groans as he heads straight over to the couch and plops down. You laugh as you follow Dean across the living room, but you get halfway there before another dizzy spell hits you.

"Dean," you get out right before you're brought down to your knees.

"Sweetheart?" Dean asks as he turns around so that he can see you. Dean's eye widen when he sees what's wrong and he jumps up to his feet. "Sweetheart, you alright?"

"Yeah," you breathe out as you squeeze your eyes shut tight. "Room's spinning."

"Gosh, I wish that we could have figured out what was happening with those other women," Dean says. "Right now the only thing that I care about is knowing that you're alright."

"I'm fine, Dean," you tell him as you try and straighten up a bit. Dean keeps his hands on you and you smile softly at him. "Honestly, honey. I'm alright."

"I know," Dean sighs as he gently helps you up off of the floor. Dean makes you lean on him as he walks you over towards the couch. If you try and straighten up then Dean just pulls you over towards him. "Maybe I shouldn't play bait," Dean sighs as you slowly sit down onto the couch.

"Good," you mutter as your eyes side shut.

"I don't think that you need to be here by yourself."

"Dean, I'll be fine if you think that this is how we're gonna do this," you tell him softly. "I'm not happy with you playing bait ,but if that's what we have to do then I guess it's what we have to do."

Dean sighs and he drops his head  a bit. "Maybe I can call Sam to see if he'd be able to..."

"I do not need a babysitter here with me," you scowl.

"Sweetheart, you're barely able to stand up right now," Dean tells you softly.

"I'll be alright," you tell him softly. Dean pouts, causing you to playfully roll your eyes a bit at him. "Pitiful."

"I love you," Dean tells you softly.

"I love you too, Dean," you breathe out. "Which is why I don't want you to do this but like I said, we have to to flush out this witch."

"Yeah," Dean sighs. "Tell you what. If you need help you call Sam."

"Okay," you say and you nod your head a bit at him. "If you think that you'll need help you call me and then I'll call Sam."

"Got it," Dean nods. "But I won't need help. If I just let that witch take me then I can find where she's been keeping these guys."

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Just please be careful."

"I will, sweetheart," Dean whispers as he leans in to give you a sweet kiss. "I love you so much."

"I love you too, baby," you tell Dean softly.

"I'll be at that bar right around the corner," Dean tells you.

"Alright," you sigh. "But you'd better not be getting drunk or flirting with the other girls."

"No promises," Dean chuckles but he grunts when you slap him in the chest.

"Behave," you laugh.

"I will, sweetheart," Dean smiles as he leans over to give you another kiss. "Text me if any neighbors show up here because I'm sure if Irene notices that I'm not here, she'll stop by asking you a bunch of questions."

"You mean Jenny?" you giggle.

"Troublemaker," Dean chuckles as he stands up off the floor. "Remember to call Sam if you have to."

"I will," you say and you nod your head a bit at Dean. "Go have some fake fun without me."

"Will do, sweetheart," Dean chuckles before he walks on over towards the front door. Dean throws a wink at you over his shoulder before walking on out and you let a tear slip when the door shuts. You know what's going on. You just can't tell Dean. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You're almost asleep when you hear the doorbell ring. Sighing, you stand up off of the couch and you try not to let your disappointment show when you find Irene standing there on your front porch.

"Can I help you?" you ask her.

"Oh, I was just stopping by to see if you're feeling any better," Irene tells you. "I knew that you still weren't feeling well at the picnic."

"Yeah, I'm fine," you tell her softly as you give her a friendly smile.

"So," Irene says as her eyes skim around the living room. "Where's that husband of yours? He's taking care of you, isn't he?"

"Well, he's supposed to be," you sigh and you try to fall into the role of the upset wife. "Dean went out to try to find some medicine for me."

"Well, that's understandable," she nods.

"Three hours ago," you say and Irene's eyes widen a bit at you. "I'm trying not to worry about him though. I mean, moving into a new neighborhood is a big deal. If he needs to have some fun to ease his nerves a bit then so be it."

"And it doesn't bother you that your husband is out doing who knows what with who knows who?"

"Oh, it bothers me," you tell her softly. "But what am I supposed to do about it? I mean, maybe I am just being paranoid but there's the risk of making him upset with me if I ask Dean about it. And, even if he is doing something that he shouldn't be, I still love him. I always will and I couldn't possibly let Dean walk out of my life."

"Well, then," Irene frowns. "If you need me you know where to find me."

"Thanks so much," you smile as you shut the door on her. When you hear Irene walking down off of the porch, you pull your phone out of your pocket and dial Dean's number.

"Hey, everything alright, sweetheart?" Dean asks as he answers the phone.

"Yeah, everything's fine," you sigh. "Except I owe you the biggest apology ever."

"Why?" Dean chuckles.

"Because sweet little Irene just showed up at our front door asking me questions about where you went and didn't it bother me that you were out doing things that I didn't know about."

"Uh, well, I would gloat but I think that we were both wrong about this one, sweetheart."

"Why do you think that?" you ask him.

"You remember that dark headed girl that was sitting with you three at the table?" Dean asks you.

"Yeah," you reply. "I can't think of her name though."

"Well, she's here," Dean tells you in a hushed voice.

"So you think that she might be the witch?" you ask him.

"I don't know," Dean says. "She's walking out though. I'll follow her."

"Please don't get arrested," you groan and Dean chuckles.

"I'll try not to, sweetheart," he tells you. "I think that I just heard the people this girl was speaking to call her Beth."

"Beth," you frown. "Why does that name sound so familiar?"

"I don't know," Dean says. "But she's walking out right now and she is making a right turn onto the sidewalk."

"Beth. Beth," you keep saying her name over and over hoping that it will spark something. "Oh my gosh. Dean stop following that girl!" you yell into the phone.

"Why?" Dean flinches as he pulls the phone away from his ringing ear.

"Because she's the first victim," you tell him. "Her and her husband were the first targets of the witch so that monster is still out there. Stop following her and get your butt somewhere..."

A loud smack echoes through the phone right before the call is dropped. Your heart starts pounding as you grip tightly onto your phone.

"Dean?" you say but you know that Dean is not able to answer.

Series Taglist:@compresshischest09 @awkward-and-indecisive @foxyjwls007 @im-a-light-child @prettysourabbie @lover-of-nights @agirlwithdemonblood @doctorlilo @impala1967dwinchester @stoneyggirl2

Tags: @mlovesstories @idksupernatural @alwayskeepfightingsweetheart @deans-baby-momma @lyssaholic @akshi8278 @defenderrosetyler @justanotherwinchester @campingmonkey @polina-93 @hobby27 @adoptdontshoppets @sunflowers-n-rocknroll @thoughts-and-funnies​ @lyarr24@flamencodiva @deandreamernp @440mxs-wife

[imonthinice]

The Criminal Psychology Majors, Jason Todd x Fem!Reader Part 15/?

Word Count: 3k

Author’s Note: Y/N - Your Name.

Thinking about making parts longer so that I can at least finish a semester of Jason knowing Y/N before I do fic 2 of this continuity. Give it a better name, probably. I dunno

Warnings: Eludes to sex, Takes about Injuries, Mentions of Trauma, Refusal to acknowledge pain, Swearing, No beta bitch we die like Jason Todd

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18) (Part 19) (Part 20)

She could find herself lost in the way Jason walked for hours. He thought she was asleep when he threw on his slightly ripped boxers so he could walk to his desk. She didn’t know what it was that drew her in, maybe it was just the way that even after he had been stabbed that he could act like he owned the room.

She thought he was really, really, attractive. Like, really.  She couldn't think of times where she wouldn’t get lost in how he looked. His personality made it a lot better, too. She really liked how he chose to carry his personality, how he chose to carry himself. 

He turned to his bed after plugging in his laptop, it would take a while to charge, when he noticed she was staring.

“Your eyes will dry out looking at something so hot, Y/N. I’d be careful,” he joked, letting a large smile slip by.

“I’ll need heat-resistant goggled to keep this relationship going, damn.”

“Bruce can buy you some.”

“I think after his freak-out bout our situation, he wouldn’t be keen on that one, darling.”

He smiled at her, “What makes you say that? He clearly likes you.”

“That doesn't mean he wants to spend that much money on me.”

“I would spend that much money on you,” he grabbed the water bottle sitting at his desk and twisted the cap off.

“You have spent that much money on me.”

“Pretty girl, gets money, gets the pretty man,” he said before seeming to chug the entire bottle.

“You would probably find a way to drown while drinking water, honestly.”

“Ha, ha, baby. Funny.”

“You don’t have to tell me I’m funny for me to know I’m funny, Jay,” she joked, “Are you coming back to bed?”

“No, I’m not.”

“What the fuck, man.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I have work to do for Wayne Enterprises,” he said.

“I just want to cuddle,” she jokingly wined at him.

“You’re a temptress, but I really have to do this.”

“Doesn’t your laptop take time to charge?” she asked.

“Yes it does, why?”

“Come here then.”

He sighed and looked at his laptop before smiling and coming over to his bed, “You’re lucky it’s charging slowly today, baby.”

He climbed into the bed beside her, she thought he forgot that she was naked but he didn’t.  He knew she was naked, he just didn’t want anything from her, he didn’t want a ‘fun night’ with his girlfriend, he just wanted the cuddling on a Thursday morning.

She had a headache, a massive one, and Jason noticed her wincing a lot and holding her head, he had seen these signs before, in Time Drake, his baby brother, who had a severe caffeine addiction.

“You alright?” he asked, nuzzling his nose into her shoulder.

“Headache,” she answered and winced again.

“Caffeine or medication?” he asked, trying to make certain that is was caffeine and not anything else.

“Caffeine.”

“I can always make you some coffee, Y/N.”

“If you're willing to leave this bed, could you?” she asked.

“I could, I could. I don’t want to leave this moment, but I guess” he said, sarcastically.

“I’ll owe you indefinitely,” she said as he got up and walked over to his dresser, scavenging for a pair of pants so he didn’t walk downstairs and possibly expose himself to his siblings.

“Do you want anything else while I’m down there?” he asked while putting on his pants, “I can always make you breakfast,” he said. 

“No, no, the coffee is more than enough, I swear.”

“You just want to spend more time with me, you simp.”

“That is true, that is so true.”

“I’ll be back in bed before you know it,” he walked over to her and kissed her forehead, taking in the bedhead and the way her eyes drowsed when she was tired, “Don’t pass out on me.”

“I can’t make promises I may not keep.”

“Then just keep me positive.”

She laughed and he walked out of the room. You could feel the way he was giddy about her as he walked out, from the way his grin wouldn’t fall to the way he bothered to get dressed, even if it was just pants.

No one thought they’d see the day that Jason Todd, the Jason Todd, would walk out of a room with a girl in it with pants on.

“Master Todd,” Alfred said as Jason walked into the kitchen, “One of these days, I ask of you, you and Miss Y/N should eat breakfast with the rest of us. And, it’s nearly 10:00, sir. You should be up sooner.”

“I can always count on you to parent me, Alfred,” Jason joked, “One of these days she and I will come down for breakfast, I swear,” he turned on the coffee machine.

“You don’t drink coffee, Master Todd.”

“No, I don’t. But she does.”

“My god, you’re whipped!” Tim exclaimed at his big brother.

“You’ll understand one day when someone you like this much is in your bed, Tim.”

“You didn’t even call me on my shit, who are you and what did you do with my brother?” Tim joked.

“I sold him to the devil in exchange for his rocking body and a beautiful girlfriend, moron.”

“How is your stab wound, Master Todd?” Alfred asked.

“Painful,” he said before looking in his foresight for Alfred’s reaction, when Alfred frowned, it broke Jason’s heart, he loved Alfred, “It’s gotten better, I swear. But it’s not ideal, either.”

“Master Richard says he should have watched you closer.”

“I don’t think he could have stopped it.”

“I could have tried,” Dick chimed in.

“Have you been listening in?” Tim asked when he turned to Dick.

“Are you that surprised? But Jase, you could have died, I could have done better, I could have stopped it if I just-”

“How many times do I have to say it isn’t your fault, Dickie?” Jason cut him off.

“I just promised to always protect you, and I failed my job.”

“You’re starting to sound like Dad, Dick,” Jason joked, trying to liven up the mood and stop his brother from crying. He needed to just distract them all from it, he didn’t want to deal with it, to talk about it all.

“Jase,” Dick paused.

“Dick, c’mon. I’m not dead. No one died. We’re all okay.”

“Jay, he has a point, no one is ready to lose you again, man,” Tim jumped in.

“To say the least,” Alfred finished.

“I love you guys, I do,” he said as he poured Y/N’s coffee, “And I get you’re scared that I’m going to die again,” he paused and sighed, “I don’t really know what to say, really.”

“You said really twice,” Tim joked.

“Listen here you little, literally, shit,” Jason retorted, holding his hand above Tim’s head like he was comparing heights, “I’ve enjoyed this, really. I can’t give up family bonding for anything, but you guys understand-”

“Are you ditching us for the pretty woman?” Dick asked.

“You would do the same, Dick.”

“Because I’m serious about Barbara.”

“And?” he joked as he walked off and back to his room.

Opening his door, he saw her, half-awake, laying in his bed. She had gotten up at some point to put on one of his shirts, it was cute. He liked the fact that she was wearing his shirt. He stared for a bit.

“Whatcha doing, Romeo?” she joked.

“Is that my shirt?” he asked as he walked towards his nightstand and put down the coffee before looking at her.

“Yeah, it is. If you mind, frankly, I don’t care.”

“Ha, ha. I don’t mind,” he said as he crawled back into bed with her while she sat up to drink the coffee, “Hope that makes it a little nicer to be here.”

“It’s already nice to be here.”

“I’m sure the headache made it suck a little, though.”

“Well yes but no.”

“Yes but no is my personal motto.”

“Is it now?”

“Well, ‘Should you do this, Jason? Dad will be mad.’ followed by yes but no is literally everything I do, ever.”

“Is this how telling your dad that we’re dating went?” she joked.

“Oh yeah, he just hates you,” he said with heavy sarcasm.

“If your partner’s parents don’t hate you then are you even their partner?” she retorted.

He laughed and buried his face into her chest. She laughed between sips of her coffee and she stroked his hair. She thought he liked it when she did this, and he did, she was right. He could feel each of her fingers running through his hair, massaging his head. If love languages are a thing, she could speak his fluently.

She was scared, scared that the attacks against her were related, scared that her friends weren’t going to get out of jail, scared that her escapade of drinking had brought her back to alcoholism, there was a taste she could never get off her tongue, the cravings she couldn’t quench. And it scared her. She hadn’t been this far down in a while, mentally. 

It never seemed like the moment that she could bring that up to Jason, her fears. She wanted to open up about it but she just couldn’t.

Jason wanted to bring up the nightmares to her, but it was never the moment, He wanted to open up to her about it but he too, just couldn’t.

When she finished her coffee, it was unfortunately the time that Jason had to work, she audibly groaned and sighed when he left her side. He laughed and kissed her before he left the bed, and she, jokingly, tried to pull him back onto the bed.

Mundane life, day-to-day life was stuff like this, partners leaving because they had jobs, school, volunteering, extra-curricular activities, anything. It was the sad reality that they both would have to accept, especially if Y/N was going to reenroll in her dance lessons, which she had been thinking about. She hadn’t been deciding anything, she was scared.

Was it the distance that scared her? Probably. Was it the fact that she could fall from grace? Yes. She didn’t want to fall, she wanted to climb and climb harder and progress. She was a high-achiever. She had already fell, too. She fell hard.

She remembered waking up in a hospital in grade 10, after a night of partying, on the verge of death from alcohol poisoning. She was sent to rehab but relapsed hard. She had already fell, she had fallen so hard but tried to rebuild herself so hard as well. No one, but her parents, knew about the hospital visit, she had hidden it.

He was working away, typing on his laptop when she noticed that he was wincing.

“Baby?” she asked.

“Yes?” he said, through pain.

“Are you alright?”

“Just a little bit of pain, don’t worry.”

She got up and draped her arms behind him on the chair, “Doesn’t seem like a little bit, Jay.”

He grabbed her arm and rested his hand there while the other worked still, “Really, it’s nothing.”

“Do you have pain medication?” she whispered in his ear, trying to prove that she wasn’t going to let it go.

“I do, in the cabinet in the bathroom, why? Are you in pain?”

“If I asked you to take some so I don’t have to see you wince, will you?” she said while she walked towards the bathroom and dug through his cabinet.

“Baby, c’mon, please,”

“Shhhh,” she said as she found the pain meds and walked back, “Take some?”

“C’mon now,” he said.

“No, don’t humor me, say yes or no,” she said.

He grabbed the pill bottle and read the dosage instructions as she  crawled behind him in the chair and rested her head on his back. He laughed slightly when she did and she could feel him laugh. The way his muscles contorted as he laughed. It was something she loved. He took the recommended dosage when she glanced at his stitches. They looked to be healing, but she wasn’t a doctor, she didn’t know if they were.

She placed her hand on top of his stitches, hoping she could just trace the outline of the scar, but she was watching his face, hoping that he wouldn’t wince if she tried. He smiled though,  something about her even trying to comfort him brought him joy.

He didn’t feel worthy of her worry, her love, her kindness, but he enjoyed every minute of it because he still didn’t know if the pressure of it all, his life, if it would break her. He didn’t want it all to come crashing down, ever. He wanted this to last at least long enough that he could consider saying ‘I love you’  to her.

Every other girl would have run at the moment he was stabbed though, maybe because they had sense, maybe because she didn’t think through it all. He didn’t think she was ‘Not like other girls’ just because he knew that mindset is fucking trash, thank to his sisters just rambling about it at family game night after Tim said it, on accident. Boy, that kid got his ass handed to him by the girls.

He was sure that Y/N probably thought the same about it, in spite of the pick-me songs she’d end up playing when she was bored. They were just good songs, he was sure she didn’t really think that bringing other women, even men, down was a good thing. if she did, who knows how his sisters and brothers would feel about her when they found out.

But there he sat, and Y/N hadn't run. She had embraced the tragedy with open arms and expected it to slow down. His life was face-paced, a tale of a boy running too far and into the sky, and she sat through it with him. He would tap and type on his laptop, trying to not move and disturb her as she relaxed. 

Doing work was not exactly the activity a new couple would want to do when neither of them had anything else to do, but it needed to be done or Bruce would hand Jason his ass in an argument about work ethic. Jason had work ethic, and Bruce had let him rest but when Jason was showing signs of recovery, he started telling Jason to ease back into work. So, Jason wrote essays defending projects Bruce wanted to do to the board. 

Bruce didn’t need Jason to defend him, but if Jason could get the words out, normally no board members would fight Bruce on the decision anymore. And Bruce paid Jason handsomely for these essays, because Bruce did not like the fighting and arguing he’d get from the board.

But the Batman-Patented Stare would follow if someone continued to hate Bruce’s plans. It was a watered-down version of it, but it was still probably the most intimidating thing that his kids and teammates have ever experienced.

Jason hope that the relationship between him and Y/N would continued even if Bruce gave her the Batman Stare. She seemed like the type of girl who would end up laughing in Bruce’s face if he did it to her.

She was probably going to receive it after that fight Jason and him had about protection, because she was also partly to blame about that.

The hours ticked by as Jason wrote to defend his dad from the board, and before he and Y/N knew it, it was dinner time at the Wayne Manor, and Y/N was invited. Great, Jason thought, I guess we’re going to find out how she’s going to deal with the stare.

“Just a fair warning, baby, my dad’s probably going to attempt to lecture you if you join us for dinner,” Jason said as he got dressed.

“He can try his best, I’ll give him that,” she laughed as she threw on the same clothes she had from the day before.

“You need to start bringing an over-night bag here, damn,” he joked.

“Remind me next time I come over and I’ll at least bring a second change of clothes in my schoolbag.”

------------------------

They all sat down for dinner, and Bruce started his parenting attempt, “Jason, Y/N,” he said and both of them stared at him, “You both know what you did was irresponsible-”

“Everything I do is irresponsible, Bruce, no offense,” Y/N joked.

“Look, I’m not going to have you two having sex-”

“They’re having sex?!” Damien and Tim exclaimed with fake disgust, YN laughed.

“Could any of you take this seriously?”

“Sorry, sorry, playboy billionaire, I’ll pretend you’re my dad for a second,” YN joked.

“You’re going to be a pain in my ass, huh?”

“Yeah, probably. Sorry about that, genuinely, but its not my fault your son picked me.”

“I just need you two to be safe if  you’re going to continue to have sex in my house,” Bruce said, exasperated.

“We’ll just have sex at my house then,” Y/N joked again.

Bruce gave her The Stare at this moment, and she got startled a little bit. Everyone paused because she literally jumped a bit at The Stare.

“Dad, I think you genuinely scared her a bit,” Dick said.

“Did I jump? Oh my god,” she laughed, “I’m sorry,” she laughed harder, “I wasn’t expecting it!”

“Dad, c’mon, she’s a guest,” Jason said.

“No, no don’t worry about me, seriously. He can discipline me all he wants, honestly. If he’s nice about it, I’ll listen, even if I throw 69 jokes his way.”

“Nice,” Tim retorted.

“Really, a sex joke? Right after I tried to parent you?” Bruce questioned, “You really are the perfect match for Jason, my god.”

“You didn’t already realize that from the flipping off the press and her head-butting incident?” Stephanie added in, mocking Bruce.

“I, in no way, feel remorse or shame about either of those events.”

“You flipped off the press?” Cass asked.

“I did, I did. They can’t stop me, no one can.”

“I can,” Jason joked.

“You can keep thinking that.”

Everyone laughed. Whether or not Bruce wanted to admit it, he liked Y/N and hoped that Jason and her were going to last a while.

[george-mackay-macfine]

Let's Play a game - CH.3

Chapter three of let's play a game, as usual pick your own Jude. I know I have!

Tag list: @neocil @cjand10

If you want to join the LPAG tag list, let me know.

If Jude Hastings thinks he can show up at my family brunch and act like he wasn’t committing an act of war, he sure had another thing coming.

I was going to be the best’ girlfriend’ this man had ever seen. I was going to be such a convincing girlfriend that his parents would be begging him to propose to me by the time I break his heart. I was going to be that girl that all his friends, colleagues and all his family compare his next girlfriend to.

I was going to be the girl who destroyed Jude Hastings for other women.

“Hi.” I smiled at the female officer who sat at the front desk. She looked borderline depressed with her piles of paperwork around her. “I’m here to see Jude Hastings.”

“Name.” She drawled out.

“Darcy Edwards.” I plastered the fakest smile on my face as she picked up her desk phone.

“What is your reasoning to see Officer Hastings?”

“I’m his girlfriend,” I held up the picnic basket by my side as the woman eyes widened. “And I brought him dinner.” I put the basket on the bench and riffled through finding the container of cupcakes I’d baked - Oh yeah, I’d also baked dessert - “Cupcake?” I offered the now open container of sugary sweets to the woman who looked at them like they’d offended her entire family. “There is chocolate and vanilla.” She didn’t speak, just kept looking at me.

“Hastings… There’s a woman here to see you.” She looked me up and down. “Claims she’s your girlfriend.”

“Darcy.” I prompted right as she put the phone down.

“He’ll be out in a few minutes if you sit down.” She mumbled before looking back down at her open file.

I guess that’s a no to the cupcake, then.

I pulled the container back, shoving the lid back on and storing it back inside the basket before walking over to the waiting chairs. I put the basket on one and began to fiddle with my dress.

A long summer maxi dress with sandals was the best accompaniment to this whole dinner scheme of mine. Not only was it workplace appropriate, but it gave off this virginesque vibe which would only help me win over his colleagues.

Hastings would have no clue what was hitting him.

“Darcy?” I turned at the familiar voice. Standing holding the door open was Jason Sato. Hastings partner and one of the many people I’d gone to high school with who didn’t seem to want to leave this damn town. “I didn’t actually believe him when he told me you were here to see him.” He began to laugh.

“What do you mean?” I picked the basket up and walked towards him. “Is Jude coming?” I held the basket up slightly. “I made him dinner.”

“Is it poisoned?”

“What?” I faked as gasp - poisoning it would have been too obvious. “Why would it be poisoned.”

“Because the last time you made food for him, you put laxatives in it.” Oh yeah.

“That was high school, Jason.” I gave a giggle. Sweet and innocent. “Besides, I wouldn’t want to poison my boyfriend; he’s too cute for that.”

“It was only two years ago,”

“Was it?” I tapped the side of my head gently. “Bad memory.”

“So you and Jude finally put it all behind you, huh.”

“Sure did.” I smiled as Jude appeared behind him. “Hi Bunny.” I beamed at him. Relishing in the way, his smile dropped at the use of his new nickname.

“Bunny?” Jason tried to hold in a laugh as I nodded idiotically. “Wow.”

“What you got in there?” Hastings pointed to the basket.

“I made your favourite.” I lifted the basket some more. “Egg salad sandwiches and cupcakes.”

“Egg sandwiches are your favourite food?” Jason raised an eyebrow at Hastings. Absolutely not. He hated egg salad sandwiches.

“Picnic food it is.” Hastings amended.

“Did you want to join us for dinner?” I stepped towards Hastings, who wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me back against him. “I made plenty for everyone.” Jason looked between Hastings and me. “You don’t mind, do you, Bunny?” I looked up at Hastings with a wide smile, the smile only becoming broader as I heard Jason let out a snort of laughter.

“Of course not,” Hastings grimaced, leaning down kissing my cheek.

“I am only saying yes because I want to see more of this.” Hastings grabbed my hand and led me through the police officers towards their break room. I made sure to smile and wave at everyone who looked at us, cementing myself as the polite and sweet girlfriend I was.

“How has your day been?” I asked Hastings as I began to grab all the items out of the picnic table, laying them out in front of the two seated men. “Catch any bad guys today?”

“Not yet.” Hastings grabbed a can of root beer I put down in front of him. “How has your day been, babe?”

“Babe?” I pushed my bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout. “You never call me babe.”

“What does he call you then?” Jason asked mid-bite.

“He usually calls me wifey.”

“You what?” Jason spun to look at Hastings while I struggled to keep the shit-eating grin off my face.

“What can I say? When I see something, I want I go for it.” He picked up one of the sandwiches. When he sat back down correctly, he looked at me again, maintaining eye contact as he began to smile. “But, baby. If you’re happy to let people know I intend to make you my wife, then I’m happy to call you that in public. I just thought you didn’t want people to know.”

A challenge.

“Of course Bunny.” I walked around the table and sat down in his lap. “You know I want nothing more than to win this big heart in here.” I tapped his chest. “If you want everyone to know you intend to marry me, then I’m okay with it if you tell them.” Do it, Darcy. Win this one. “It’d make me happy, actually.” I kissed his lips, fighting off the bile that rose with the action.

“Sato.” A voice bellowed from beyond the break room, giving me a reason to break the bile raising kiss. “Call for you at your desk, line three.” Jason stood up slowly, looking at us as if we were some mutation.

“Right, coming.” He called back to the voice. “I’ll be right back.”

“Okay.” I smiled, watching Jason walk out, the door shutting behind him.

“Is this your feeble attempt at a surprise attack,” Hastings whispered in my ear, his chin resting on my shoulder.

“You mean like yours from this morning?”

“I didn’t think we were playing dirty, Edwards.”

“We weren’t, then you crashed family Sunday brunch.”

“You needed your wallet,”

“Then you shouldn’t have lifted it from my purse.” I turned to look at him. “You started this. I’m finishing it.”

“Oh no, this is just the beginning… Wifey.” A twisted smirk covered his lips. “You know that comment I made about no more pranks.”

“Of course,” I remembered everything he said that morning.

“I take that part back.” He nodded towards my outfit. “After this little prank, I think everything is fair game.”

“Prank?” I shook my head. “This is no prank. I wanted to make my big strong man some dinner.” I poked his cheek as I spoke.

“You know I hate eggs.”

“No, I knew eggs give you insane gas,”

“Tamato, tomato.”

“Whoopsies.”

“I’m not eating them.” He looked at the sandwich.

“What’d I miss.” Jason sauntered back in.

“Nothing.” I turned back to him. “Jude was just going to try the sandwiches and tell me what he thought.” I spun around to face Hastings. “Isn’t that right, Bunny.”

“Darcy…”

“It took me a long time to make it all, the sandwiches and the cupcakes.”

“It’s lovely of you, Darcy.”

“Thank you, Julian. If only my boyfriend felt the same way.”

“Try one, man. They’re good.” Julian slid a sandwich over to him. Julian and I both watched as Hastings disgruntledly unwrapped the foil that wrapped the sandwich. Taking half of it, he brought it to his lips.

“Take a big bite! Make sure you get all the flavours.” I clapped my hands together. Honestly, I have never wanted anything more than for this sandwich to react badly with Hastings’s gut. The idea of people thinking he shit himself is nearly funnier than it would be if he actually shit himself.

“Of course.” He muttered, bringing the sandwich to his mouth. To my surprise, he took a massive bite out of it, more than I’d expected him t take. As he chewed, Jason and I watched on. “Wow,” He reached for the root beer, taking a long gulp. “Nice.”

“Try a cupcake now.” I grabbed one of the cupcakes and scooped the icing off with my finger. I was bringing it to my lips before Hastings redirected my finger to his lips. I felt his tongue work around my fingertip, sucking off all the sugary sweet vanilla icing.

“Okay, you two might just be enough to gross me out.” Jason broke us from our moment.

“That was my icing.” I sighed, pulling my finger back. I subtly wiped it on Hastings shirt, thankful that Jason couldn’t see.

“Delicious.” He laughed. “You should try one.” He looked over at Jason.

“Give me your finger, Darcy.” He winked at me.

“Sorry mate, But you’ll need to find your own girl.” His hands wrapped tighter around my waist.

“I should get going.” I unwrapped Hastings arms from around my waist. “I’ve got class tomorrow.”

“I finish in an hour. Why don’t you go to my place.”

“I don’t have clothes, Bunny.” I loved seeing a part of his soul die when I used that nickname, thank you, google.

“Well, go home, and I’ll swing by and get you on the way home.”

“He wants to romance you, Darcy, by the sounds of it.” Jason cackled, unwrapping a cupcake.

“Is that true?”

“Of course it is.” His hand ran down my back, stopping at the swell of my hip. “Romance is my middle name.”

“Now I’m sure your mother told me your middle name was Fredrick.”

“Oft.” Julian hissed. “That’s a sexy name right there.”

“Isn’t it just,” I giggled, throwing my hair over my shoulder. I knew by the look on Hastings’s face he wished I were dead right now, and I knew he could tell by the look on my face that I was loving this more than anything.

Payback is a bitch.

“I better go.” I picked up my purse and walked to the door. “Can you bring those back to me whenever?”

“I’ll bring them by tonight when I come to get you.” Jude stood and walked behind me. “I’ll be back.” He called over his shoulder. “Let’s go.” He swatted my ass, causing me to flinch forward. “Didn’t mind it the other night.” He winked.

“You bloody bastard.” I muttered under my breath as he scooted past me. “I’ll kill you.” I growled as he grabbed my hand, pulling me through the station. “When you get home, I thought we could take a bath together.” I began to rattle. “And maybe I can give you another facial, and we can watch the notebook.” I thundered as we passed by a group of highly masculine-looking officers. “Like we did last week, you seemed to like it. I’ll even use the pink face cream.”

“Jesus.” Hastings hissed, shaking his head. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

“You don’t have to.” I passed him pushing open the same door I’d entered only minutes ago.

“I’m walking you to your car,” He confirmed, holding the door open so I could move through the threshold. “C’mon.” His hand grabbed mine, pulling me along behind him. We passed by the silent woman on the front desk and out into the warming summer air. “You are -“

“Incredible?”

“No.”

“Amazing… Phenomenal… Astounding… bewildering… bewitching…”

“Insane… mad… cretinous.”

“Oh a big boy word.” We’d reached my car by now, but Hastings still wasn’t letting go of my hand. “Can I have my hand back now?”

“I don’t know.” He leant back against the car, pulling me into his chest. “I rather like the way it feels in mine.” His other wrapped around my waist, holding my body tightly to his.

“I think we need to clear some things up.” I tried to pull my hand back from him. “This whole facade thing doesn’t have to happen all the time… only when we’re around people.”

“No, sweetheart.” He nuzzled his nose into the underside of my jaw, breathing deep. “I’m going to make you fall madly in love with me.”

“Whose says I’m gonna let you?”

“Whose says your gonna stop me?” His lips crawled up my jaw before moving across the skin of my cheek towards my lips. He flipped us over, so I was trapped up against the car “Darcy,” When did his voice become so husky, and why is it sending a shiver up my spin. “Whose going to stop me?” Why did the idea of his lips on mine seem so appealing? Why did I feel like I was starving? And without the feeling of his lips against mine, I was going to die. “I don’t think you’re going to stop me, Darcy.”

He was right. I wasn’t going to stop him.

Without a second thought, I pulled his head, so our lips met. His hand let go of mine and ran up, grabbing onto my face, keeping me locked to him. My tongue traced his bottom lip. I wanted more. His lips left mine again, kissing all over the skin on my face.

“Baby.” I grabbed onto his face this time and reattached our lips. My hands wandered the expanse of his body, feeling all the muscles I was reluctant to remind myself about. “Darcy, we need to stop.” I shook my head against his lips, my own going to his neck. His hands left my body completely resting against the car on either side of my head as I kissed his neck. “Believe me, I don’t want to stop this either, but if we don’t - We’re going to end up naked on the street, and I don’t think that’s appropriate for an officer of the law.”

Dammit, he was right.

“Your right.” I pulled away from him, my chest heaving. “I should save shows like that for when people are around.” He let out a chuckle.

“What games do you have planned in that twisted head of yours.” His fingertips tapped my temple gently.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” I pushed his body away from mine, moving so I could open my drivers’ door.

“Well, was your show in there, was that how it was supposed to happen?”

“Let’s just say, it’s not exactly how I planned it - I expected more people wanting cupcakes, I mean they’re cupcakes c’mon - but it’s turning out better than I thought.” I stopped as I was about to step into the car. “You’re going to fall in love with me, Jude Hastings, and then I’m going to break your heart into a million little bits.” Disturbingly he smiled. Not the reaction you really wanted from a man when you tell him you’re not only going to break his heart but also shatter it into a million parts.

“I’m sure you will, Darcy.” He stepped back away from the door. “But I suppose the real question is, will I break yours first.”

“Don’t count on it.” I slipped into the car.

“I’ll see you soon.” He called out as I turned on the ignition. I rolled my window down and stuck my head out.

“You won’t see me if I don’t answer the door.”

“You will.” He winked before turning and walking back down the path we’d walked together moments ago.

As I took off, my mind was consumed by one thing.

Jude Hastings.

Thoughts of him clouded my senses as I drove, and the feeling of his hands on my hips as he pulled me closer to him left chills on my legs.

He was good, but I was going to be better.

[liquid-luck-00]

Maribat Secret Santa 2020

@maribat-secret-santa-2020

Happy Holidays everyone🎁

In my defense there was a minimum of 2000 words and there was no max so this ended up being 6112 words sorry, I think. There is some Adrien, class and Lila salt, Adrien gets some sugar later.

Without further ado @eve-v0lution I am your Secret Santa, enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~

Marinette has never been a normal girl. When she was born the goddess Tikki appeared claiming her as her chosen and the next Ladybug. She was born the granddaughter of Ra's Al Ghul, the head of the League of Assassins, the sister organization to the Order of the Miraculous. Her older brother, and twin, Damian was called to be the next Demon.

When they were five, she was taken to the Temple of the Order of Miraculous. she and her brother kept in contact, but it wasn't much more, than 'yes I am still alive, are you?' which was fine with them. As they were often trained together by both the League and the Order.

A week before they turned 10, she was named the Great Guardian and given the Miracle box. On their 10th birthdays he returned to the League to support her brother as he was officially named the heir of the Demon. However, things never went that smoothly. Slade Wilson led an attack on the League killing their grandfather. Damian rushed on to fight the Mercenary. She followed at his side the only thing she said before entering the fray was "Duusu fans" and combat fans dropped into her hands.

Between the two of them, they pushed Deathstroke back. However, he didn't retreat before throwing a sword at Damian. She called upon Wayzz's "Shell-ter" catching the sword in the shield’s dome. She took the hilt of the blade before dropping the dome. The two of them shared a look before running to find their Mother. Together they used Kaakli's portal to go to the Order.

However, they were met with an equally gruesome sight. Many of the monks laid dead, those that weren't were not in much better of a condition.

A single elder survived, speaking of the simultaneous attack on the Order and League. He told them that he will rebuild the order, but that Mari needed to keep the Miracle box safe. In the end Mother told them that she will be leaving them with their Father.

To say it was a surprise that their Father was Batman would be a stretch. Mother and Grandfather only allowed perfection, so not as surprising as one would think. Batman being Bruce Wayne, sure that wouldn't be her first guess but so what. What actually surprised her were her new brothers.

Damian hated them but she loved their antics. Where Damian became the next Robin, Mari stayed in the cave manning the comms as well as their numerous and often injuries.

However, when she did join everyone on the roof tops, Scarlet joins them. A red cropped hoodie that ended a little below her ribs. A long sleeve Kevlar shirt with a high neck. Black gloves and arm guards were holding the sleeves of the hoodie down. Her pants were the same Kevlar as the shirt and was just as formfitting, there were guards on her thighs that wouldn’t impede on her movement as well as knee pads connected to the shin guard. Short combat boots, a red sash tied to her waist hiding the utility belt and yo-yo, and a mechanical mask that conceals the bottom half of her face. And to top it off Tikki turns her eyes violet and her hair to white.

"Scarlet" Nightwing called to her. They were partnered and patrolling the west side of Gotham.

"Yes"

"Let’s race"

"What do I get when I win?"

He held his hand to his chest in mock hurt "Just so you know one week, anything the winner says is law for one week for the loser"

"Make it one favor redeemable whenever and you've got it" she challenged. He was torn but he agreed.

"Count me in" they heard Red Hood.

"Same" Red Robin also entered "Robin?"

"Tt. No"

"Fine. First back to the cave wins" Nightwing answered. "Go!"

She swung through Gotham and dropped into a pitch-black alley 'voyage' Mari whispered too low for the comms to pick up. Dropping through the portal and into the cave. Her transformation dropped and Tikki went to sit on her shoulder. Alfred was there waiting, Duusu perched on his shoulder as well, with a tray of cookies. She gave him a nod in silent thanks, as she still had a comm in her ear.

Ten minutes later Red Hood pulls in and was about to celebrate when both Red Robin and Nightwing crash into him. Creating a mess of limbs over the motor bike.

"Ha I win now you guys owe" Jason was about to rub in his victory from the bottom of the pile when Mari giggled, pulling the attention of her three brothers.

"Sorry Jay but you lost" she, Alfred, and the kwami were clearly in the middle of tea and cookies.

"She is correct Master Jason. Miss Marinette has been here for the past 10 minutes"

"Tt. Honestly don't race against some one who teleports." Damian grumbled as he walked away from the Bat-mobile.

"Don't worry. I'll wait until you forget you owe me to cash in" she smiled wickedly. "Good night."

And that was when they remembered 'Right Mari has the ability to use the powers of several pocket-sized gods' that was a lesson they wouldn't forget soon. Well Tim and Jason didn't forget; Dick would still bet against her though.

Jason found out she is the perfect prank partner. And no one in or out of the manor was safe. How they managed to swap all of Green Arrow's arrows, each being a different gag, was a mystery even Batman couldn't or wouldn't attempt to solve. The fact that the Justice League saw and heard Batman fall to the floor laughing, scared most of them from finding out. Those who didn't learned what happens when you don't leave well enough alone.

School was well boring; between the curriculum of the League and the Order she had already gotten 2 PHDs and 5 masters. School was nothing more than a pleasantry at this point. Father wouldn't let them out of school, something about needing to be normal kids. That only seemed to draw the twins into the spotlight more, because they were the only two blood children of Bruce Wayne. Damian became known quite fast as Gotham's Ice Prince, but Mari became known as Gotham's Sunshine just as fast.

But don’t let the name fool you, within the first year their classmates learned that yes Damian Wayne is scared of something, and that something was actually a someone who just happened to be his twin sister. Damian apparently was feeling petty about something, and for the life of her she can’t remember what, but he decided to write in big red letters ‘NO!!!’ across every page of her sketchbook. She found that out during lunch, and that was when the entire school learned that the little sunshine child was the only thing that can put the fear of God in the Ice Prince.

---

Freshman year Mari finally got her Dad to agree to letting her into the exchange program for the next four years.

So, she decided on Paris.

Why, why did this exchange have to be four years long. I’m not gonna survive this.

Admittedly it started off okay, okay not really but then things went downhill, fast, faster than you could imagine.

It started when she met her host family. They met her at the airport and that was an experience, I guess.

"Mlle Wayne? Correct" a tall slender woman in glasses asked her.

"Yes Madame" she replied with a polite smile.

"Natalie Sancoeur" the woman replied "And this is" she started but was cut off by a boy around her age, he had blonde hair and green eyes. But what stood out to her was his attributes reminded her of an overexcited and hyper puppy.

"Adrien Agreste" he smiled at her, so she did what was expected of her in polite society.

"Marinette Wayne" and she extended her hand to shake his. However, instead he pulled her into a hug. Once she realized what was happening, she pushed away from him and took a step back. She looked at him and her thought of him being a puppy was only reinforced with the look on his face. So, she looked at Sancoeur, while the woman looked at Agreste with indifference she looked at Mari as if she was in the wrong.

This is going to be great. Was the only thought as she endured the drive to the Agreste household.

Agreste would not shut up the entire way and seemed to be hurt that she didn't answer him. Agreste was also the one who was to give her the tour of the mansion. It wasn’t so bad it gave her the chance to gauge the defense systems, which was lacking, and the layout was simple compared to the Wayne Manor, the League's compound, and the Order's temple.

Unfortunately for her, Agreste ended the tour with her room and then proceeded to sit on the bed and continue to ramble about whatever was on his mind. She did try to get him to leave but that was a complete waste of time and effort. Kwami it was like he couldn't hear me or more likely didn’t even care about my opinion. So, she put in her headphones, hid them behind her hair, pressed play to of music and went to unpack.

As she was finishing setting up the bathroom she noticed, like every other door in this house, there was no lock.

Ugh I need to speak with Monsieur Agreste.

She went back out and saw him. Agreste was at the desk where she had set her laptop and was trying to open it.

"Excuse me but what are you doing?" she asked pointedly, having taken out her headphones and set them in the case.

"I was trying to see what you had on your laptop" he shrugged "can you tell me the password to get in?"

"No" she deadpanned; he had the gall to look shocked. That was when Mme Sancoeur entered the room, without even knocking.

"Lunch is" was all she said before Agreste cut her off.

"Natalie make her open her computer for me" Agreste whined.

She was about to speak but Marinette beat her to it. "Um No. What I have on my personal computer is none of your concern" his face fell while Mme. Sancoeur pursed her lips. "Furthermore, I am assuming since you are at the desk, the bed is askew, and the drawers are open and my clothes are in shambles you were going through my things" she was now glaring at the blonde invading her space. Now he had the decency of looking ashamed. "Am I to assume lunch will be held in the dinning room?" Mme. Sancoeur only nodded, and she left the room.

Lunch, if you can call it that, was also a disaster. Apparently, Americans eat chicken noodle soup, a hamburger, and a load of fries. Because that was what was set in front of her.

Ugh this is going to be a long four years.

"Mlle. Wayne, I hope everything has been to your liking" M. Agreste, Gabriel, as he introduced himself earlier spoke. “You have hardly eaten.”

"Would you prefer my honesty or would you rather me lie to you" Marinette responded swirling the water in her glass.

"Your honesty" he answered slightly unsure.

At this she scoffed "I am going to assume that you and no one else had bothered to read the file of my information that was sent to you" he as well as Mme. Sancoeur remained quiet "Because if you had you would know I am a vegetarian."

Mme. Sancoeur searched some thing on her tablet and there was a soft "oh" from her.

"Your son is also suffocating, to the point that when I asked him to leave the room so I could settle in peacefully, he remained as if I hadn’t asked him to leave" M. Agreste was going to say something but she continued "He also has no sense of privacy as he went through all of my belongings and was attempting to go through my laptop as well." Again, he was going to say something, but Mari continued. "On the topic of privacy neither the bedroom door nor the bathroom have a lock."

“Paris is completely safe, as the house is protected, it should not matter if there is a lock on the door” he replied in a monotone.

“I’m sorry doesn’t matter, in what universe is it alright for two teenagers of the opposite sex be in a house where one of said teenagers doesn’t respect the other enough to leave them alone” she almost started yelling, but kept her head and voice level.

M. Agreste didn’t respond right away, but he gave a small hum before stating that “I will take your request into consideration.”

“Alright, just know that I will guard myself and will not hesitate to use force if necessary” she knew they wouldn’t take her seriously but hey I am warning them, they only gave a nod that they heard. “Also M. Agreste I tend to have a strict morning regimen is it possible for me to continue it using the home gym while here?”

“Of course,” he waved dismissively.

“What does this regimen include?” Mme. Sancoeur asked politely.

Marinette had a wicked smirk as this was going to be the lightest of her routines, she could give but would still most likely shock them. “Oh it is nothing much just a 5 kilometer run as a warm up, then half an hour of boxing, a half an hour of sword forms and training, half an hour of holographic combat training, followed by half an hour of ballet, and half an hour of meditation.” She was smiling watching their reactions and it was priceless. “I usually start around 4 in the morning.”

All of them were shocked, and who would blame them, here I am in my 5’2” high glory with a sunshine disposition stating I can most likely drop kick them into next week. “Actually, if you don’t mind, I was unable to do it this morning on account of being on an airplane, this will be a good way to see the city” so she smiled leaving them gobsmacked.

Finally, she was able to breathe as she ran the streets of Paris listening to her music softly. Back at the mansion she had figured out she had an audience less than ten minutes into boxing, but she continued. As she was about to start the holographic training, that Tim, Barbara, and she had created, but by now the entire Agreste household was watching her. “If you’re only going to watch me leave or else have the decency to spar” she shot at them.

“I’ll do it” little Agreste spoke up “But if I beat you, you’re giving me your computer password.”

“Fine, but when I win, I get locks on both my bedroom door and the bathroom inside” she challenged.

Agreste senior nodded his head and replied bored “Only if you win.”

“First to be knocked down three times loses” she grinned. She went to grab her two training twin swords and handed one to little Agreste.

“These are real swords” he exclaims clearly off balance by the weight of the weapon.

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic, neither have an edge” they got into positions and it was easy to see who would be victorious. I got locks and some privacy oh the small victories are truly sweet.

---

Sunday was uneventful, but so long as she was in the mansion for meals unless she had checked in with Mme. Sancoeur, she was free to her own devices.

Monday she would come to regret that it had to end later, but not for a while at least.

Mari rode to school with little Agreste and that was her first mistake. Everyone in the entire school watched her exit the car added to the fact that she's starting in the middle of the semester and that kicks.

She was wearing a charcoal shirt splattered with metallic red paint, a faux caramel brown leather jacket with a hood, black jeans with burgundy all stars. Her hair was down, and a black messenger bag was over her shoulder.

She got out and simply walked in and towards the main office ignoring everyone, she got her schedule and a map of the school. The principal himself walked her to her homeroom and to her horror little Agreste was in the class.

"Mlle. Bustier" he spoke. "Meet your new student."

"Please introduce yourself" she spoke with a sweet smile.

"Bonjour my name is Marinette, and I will be a part of your class for the next four years."

Marinette moved to take the open seat in the back but of course Little Agreste had to speak. "Mari there is an open seat behind me."

It took all of herself control to not facepalm. "I prefer the back"

"I'll spar you for it"

Now she couldn't hide the smile in her eyes or the one playing on her lips "Okay Agreste, but what makes you think you'll win this time?

"Fencing uses lighter swords" he answered mumbling the end.

"Wait why are you challenging the new girl?" a boy in a red hoodie and two-toned hair asks.

"Probably to redeem his honor from our last bout" she was now smiling. Maybe this won't be all bad.

"Then I get the next challenge" the same boy answered confidently.

"Alright" she agreed "Name your sport, um..."

"Sorry Le Chien Kim" he supplied. "Swimming freestyle"

"You're on" a devilish smirk on her lips. Afterwards everyone introduced themselves and she sat down in the back.

They spoke with M D'Argencourt about it during lunch and he told them to wait until after school for the fencing club to set up. So, they did. Honestly, the class isn't so bad, just a little pushy, apparently a student isn't here today but should be back soon. When they all went back after school, that was when Marinette saw her.

"Gami" Marinette ran to the girl in a red fencing outfit and gave her a brief hug.

"Mari-hime what are you doing in Paris?" she asked.

"Exchange program" Mari waved it off.

"Your brother?"

"Not interested" Mari responded.

"So why at the fencing club?"

"Agreste challenged me."

She looked towards the blonde and gave him a pitying glance. "Then you should both change"

"Right" Mari called as she went to the locker rooms. Her uniform was a red bodice with black sleeves and pants, but the gloves, shoes, and socks were a shade of green so dark it appeared black, the stitches on the entire thing were in golden thread. Both her saber and helmet were a combination of black and gold.

They both got into positions when Marinette heard her.

"This is going to be a slaughter" and Gami was right.

Faster than anyone could blink Mari had scored a touch before little Agreste even moved.

"Huh and here I was hoping for a challenge. Agreste" she turned away from him and faced Kagami "Match?" was all she asked, and the girl stood and faced Mari.

Facing Kagami was like fencing Damian. Both are powerhouses and decisive, but Mari's strength was in speed and agility. They met each other strike for strike, she is probably one of the few civilians that may be a match for her and her brother. By the end of practice, she was offered a spot on the team which she accepted.

To little Agreste's dismay Kagami offered to show her around Paris, to which she had agreed.

---

One-month Mari had to settle into her new class. She made fast friends with Le Chien, after their swimming match where she also met a girl named Ondine, Alix Kubdel was next she is competitive with a need for speed, side note never let her meet Jason. Max Kante and Nathaniel Kertzberg were also added to our little group. She met Luka Couffaine while wandering Paris for inspiration, they became fast friends, and she designed the costumes for Kitty section as well as their Demo Album cover. The final and most shocking, apparently, addition to their group was Chloe Bourgeois. Along with Kagami her small group of friends were unshakeable and for the next four years will be thankful for them.

After that one month, a weasel entered the class. Her name was Lila Rossi and everything that came out of her mouth was a lie. Honestly, Mari wouldn't give her a second thought but then the strikes against her grew.

Lila's first mistake was lying about her best friend, Jon, or in reality about Superboy. Oh, she was in a relationship with him. Sorry but Jon is super bi, but leans towards men more, like a walking romantic mess that was a golden moment when he figured it out. The same can be said when it finally dawned on Damian when he figured out for himself. As the amazing sister that she is of course she would tease those two. But the teasing and cooing only escalated when the two started dating. So ya not buying that he took you out, much less as Superboy.

Lila's second mistake was threatening Mari in the bathroom. Please if your going to threaten someone make sure you aren't being recorded. And second don't threaten a Wayne, especially an Al Ghul turned Wayne. So, Marinette recorded every lie, every threat, and every reaction. If she were going down not even the Devil himself would think to help her.

Unfortunately, it had a rather annoying side effect. Little Agreste kept pulling her aside to try and make peace with the liar.

"Please Marinette, can you stop calling out Lila" he repeated for the up-tenth time . They were on their way to dinner about two months after Lila rejoined the class. "Just take the high road"

They were in the hallway outside of the dining room.

"No" Mari stated as calmly as she could. As they both walked in, Mme. Sancoeur and M. Agreste were already inside.

"Why? Her lies aren't hurting anyone"

"Not hurting anyone" she spoke finally turning towards the blonde "What unicorns and rainbows paradise do you live in?"

"Wait, what?"

"Nino almost didn't enter his script for a contest because Lila said she would get someone in Hollywood to help produce it" she answered "It took Max, Nathanial, and I almost an hour for him to submit it on the thought it couldn't hurt"

"Okay that's one"

"Alya's reputation as a reporter is plummeting. She doesn't fact check and believes Lila solely on the idea that 'Lila wouldn't lie to her'. Where Lila uses her blog to spread her lies."

"Yes but no one believes everything they hear or read.”

"Really" Mari arched her brow, Alfred would be proud "then explain how most of Paris believes you and Lila to be an item"

"Mlle. Wayne came to explain" M. Agreste finally spoke.

"Oh, most of Paris believes that your son is in a romantic relationship with Lila Rossi" Mari spoke calmly as she opened her phone and pulled up the post from Alya's blog to show the screen.

"What?" the confusion was clear on little Agreste's face as he also pulled up the blog. The meal for her was quite quick but M. Agreste held back little Agreste.

Mari was sketching in the quiet of her room latter that evening when she heard a soft knock at the door. She opened the door and there stood little Agreste fidgeting.

"I'm sorry I never liked how Lila hung off of me but that was harassment, then I realized that's what I've been doing to you I am so sorry. You probably hate me for how I acted, and I understand if you can't trust me or forgive me and I'm sorry." He spoke so fast and barely breathed as he turned about to leave, but he stopped when Mari spoke.

"Okay. Redo"

"What?" he asked tilting his head.

"Let’s start over" she smiled.

"So, you forgive me!"

"No, I am not forgiving you" he looked saddened "I will hold you accountable, but I am, willing to start a new chapter."

"Okay” he looked a bit relieved.

"Hello. I am Marinette Wayne." she extended her hand to shake his.

"Adrien Agreste" he smiled shaking hands. "I'Il get out of your hair then." he sent a small wave that she returned and left.

---

Okay so maybe I exaggerated a bit, but Lila did make these past three and a half years a living pain. Mlle. Bustier fought to keep their class for all four years. The only addition was Kagami in the second year of Mari’s exchange.

But here she was sitting in the back with her friends waiting for the last class of the day to start. Then it happened Principle Damocles and Mlle. Bustier walked in.

"Mlle. Wayne" Damocles called.

"Thank the gods" Mari stated packing up her things and she walked down. "I would say it was a pleasure but that would be a lie" Mari just finished speaking when Alya decided to open her mouth.

"Where are you going class hasn't even started." Alya smiled trying to get Mari in trouble, but neither adult did anything.

"If you really want to know because it seems you've forgotten. I am a foreign exchange student from America, where I will be finishing the final term." Her words must have made some sense to their one community brain cell because they nodded, and she left.

Marinette flew back to Gotham and oh was this going to be great.

Of course, when she landed Poison Ivy, Harley Quinn, and Catwoman were making mischief in the airport. She recorded a video of the Bats stopping them, of course they were monitoring it because of her flight but I digress, and Nightwing lecturing them while Batman looked so done. Along with Jay-Jay or really Red Hood taking Mari's phone and taking a selfie with her, her hair was in braid tucked into a black beanie with a pair of red sunglasses. A halter top that had a golden rod yellow X on it. The top quadrant was red, and the rest was back. A black sweater lined and faded to red at the bottom. Comfortable black and red leggings with black flats. She posted the videos and picture captioned 'Back in Gotham. Home Sweet Home! Hood give me back my phone.' on her public account, before even exiting the terminal.

Her class will be here in about two weeks and stay as long, but right now she need a good stretch.

She found Alfred and loaded up her bags into the car and jumped in, told Alfred, transformed, and portaled out. As soon as the portal closed, she was in the middle of a huge hug from all her brothers. Patrol wasn't too bad, there was a run in with the Riddler and a separate incident with Killer Croc but that is a light day in Gotham.

After patrol was mostly filled with junk food, video games, and movies with her brothers.

Going back to Gotham Academy was like she never left. In a way she didn't, as every break she made sure to spend some time with her friends, dragging Damian with her. She would constantly text or video chat with them. To the extent that they knew about Lila and her class, almost as well as her family.

Two blissful weeks of quiet and patrols filled with teasing and bets was amazing. Yes, she will miss patrolling with Nightrunner. Yes, he is part of the extended Bat clan, but it is different with her brothers.

---

Three days granted that was longer than Marinette gave the class to avoid a villain attack. Of course, it had to happen when they were visiting, WE. Dick had volunteered to lead the tour, mainly to get more evidence, but Mari wasn't there. Since she was on break, she decided to take lunch for her brothers. The cafeteria food was good but still, and Tim would probably be holed up in his office.

She was in a blue collared button up tucked into a black skater skirt. A black and indigo letterman Jacket, black glasses frames and blue heels finished the outfit.

"Nettie?" Dick asked when she entered the cafeteria.

"Brought you lunch." Dick's face lit up.

"You are a god send"

She giggled as he took the food. "Not exactly but close."

"You going to force Timmy to eat"

"Yeah. Is he still in his office?"

"Should be"

"See ya at home Dicky Bird" she turned and found herself facing her class. Most of them registered she was there and glared at her seemingly guarding Lila from her sight, her friends noticed her so she sent a wave to Kagami, Chloe, Kim, Alix, Nathanial, and Max.

Getting Tim to eat usually proves a challenge. Mostly because he has one hand glued to a coffee mug and the other on his work. Yet when you make an entire meal into finger foods that are perfectly bite sized it is a breeze. She was going to leave when both Tim's and her phone shot an alarm. It was from Dick 'WE 2 Face' In a flash Mari transformed and waited for Tim, opened a portal, and fell into the lobby.

The two of them took out the goons and restrained them before turning towards Two Face.

"The word on the street is that you and the bird are dating, and you know the Bat." Two Face spoke out to everyone, "Let's hear what other secrets these lips will spill." A gun was held up, presumably to the teen's mouth, but neither Red Robin nor Scarlet could see.

He was clearly holding a teen hostage, and that was when they saw the two hanging sausages, Lila. For the first time since Mari had known her, she was quiet, or at least silently whimpering.

"So, who is she dating?" Scarlet asked yoyo in hand pointing at Lila.

"Robin" she gasps.

"What!?" Both of them yelled before Red Robin started again. "Crap when did I get a girlfriend. Scarlet please tell me this is just a hallucination! I swear if this is, I won’t drink a single drop of coffee for a month!”

Scarlet however was barely standing doubled over with laughter. "She’s a little young for you don't cha think."

"Not helping" Red Robin was in full out panic pacing back and forth trying to comprehend what was being said.

That was when Lila seemed to find her voice again "I'm dating Robin not you."

"Wait, What?" Both vigilantes snapped out of their laughter and panic respectfully. They shared a look and fell to the ground laughing. Two minutes later Batman and Robin showed up. Scarlet and Red Robin were now on their feet but still laughing. No one not even Two Face moved because as everyone knows, Robin is taken and no one will be getting between those two, much less a girl.

"Robin" Batman nodded and to the two laughing teens, Robin nodding in acknowledgement.

"No need B" Red Robin finally stopped laughing.

"Hey Birdie when did you get a girlfriend?" Scarlet asked fully knowing the answer already.

"Tt. Don't be idiotic Scarlet."

"Then why is she saying she is?" Two Face now had the bat fam's attention.

"Who are you?" Robin asked the girl pinned between Two Face’s arm and gun.

"Apparently the girlfriend you never knew existed before three seconds ago." Red Robin supplied, now fully enjoying the shock on his brother’s face.

"Is that why you two were laughing like idiots?"

"Well yes" Scarlet spoke up then whispered 'Voyage, Venom' and Two Face became frozen in place.

Lila was now glaring at Scarlet as she began to yell "What the hell. Why didn't you do that sooner!"

Scarlet snapped her fingers and pointed at Lila "Oh now I remember you" she semi shouted getting the attention of everyone in the lobby. "You’re the girl from Paris who said she was dating Superboy." Lila now seemed to significantly pale.

"Are you saying this girl has claimed to have dated both Superboy and I" At this point both Scarlet and Red Robin had moved and were physically holding back Robin.

"Scarlet" Batman called.

"On it" 'Voyage' "Hey Supes your boyfriend needs you" Superboy then took Robin in a hug from behind resting his chin on top of Robin's head. Her brother now willingly refraining from moving to stay in his boyfriend's arms, while Red Robin left to talk with Commissioner Gordon.

"Miss you are lucky no one was injured, and we were here to take action, your fantasies are just that. Let's go" Batman had lectured the girl who could have been switched with a statue at this point.

All the vigilantes left, and Mari sure as hell made certain Tim finished his food. In fact, he hadn't even changed out of his Red Robin uniform, so Mari guarded the door. She only left when he finished eating, knowing he could now fully react.

Mari was walking out of the elevator and into the lobby and you could practically see the change that occurred. Most of the class were huddled together, her friends were to the side along with Adrien, and Lila was practically glued to the teacher.

She spotted Alfred with Dick not far from her friends, so she decided to go over and speak with her friends.

Unfortunately, that just caused hell's gates to open as she approached, she heard. "You knew she was a liar didn't you" Alya yelled at her friends and Agreste, but Alya was specifically yelling at Agreste. That made her blood boil, so she stepped in.

"Yes, but you didn't believe me when I told you, you didn't believe them either" Mari was now standing between her friends and the blogger. "Agreste didn't want to rock the boat and how you were all treating me it is no wonder."

"Ya but she is a liar, and you are a bully" Alya retorted.

"Was I a bully. Or was that what you were told by the liar" Alya now went quiet. Of the almost four years she was in Paris there was never any proof she bullied Lila. No bruises, no destroyed items, just she said claims. "Yes, I called her out on her lies but that was all. You all were the ones who acted on her words that I bullied her with no proof and bullied me to ‘teach me a lesson'. I have more than enough evidence however, on most of this class and the liar, for cases of assault, slander, defamation of character, and destruction of property."

By now everyone in the lobby was watching this unfold. The class seemed to pale and attempted to shrink in on themselves. Lila and Mlle. Bustier seemed to try to become one with the floor. Her friends were to the side struggling to not laugh along with Dick and Chloe you traitor put down that phone.

"Miss Wayne" an employee came up to Mari seemingly afraid to get her undivided attention.

"Yes" She smiled, becoming Gotham's sunshine that everyone knew, allowing the employee and the other Gothamites to relax.

"The CEO has locked himself in his office and the Board meeting starts in three minutes" the employee fidgeted with the tablet in his hands. That snapped her into professional mode.

"Dick is the tour done?" she held out her hand to take the tablet, opened it and started going trough the documents.

"Ya"

"Go dig Tim from his office. I'll deal with the board."

"On it"

She quickly looked up to her friends "Sorry guys we should catch up later." She walked away the employee on her heels giving her more information.

A whistle was heard next to the group. "Damn I feel bad for the Board members, Mars is on a warpath and not her usual professional warpath" Dick said to Alfred.

"Reminiscent of Master Bruce even" was Alfred's response.

"She really is a Wayne"

"Master Richard"

"Yes Alfred"

"I believe it is in your best interest to retrieve Master Timothy as Miss Marinette is on a 'Warpath' as you say" Alfred barely finished as Dick began to sprint to the elevator. Alfred only sighed as he followed the eldest Wayne child, leaving very bewildered and mortified Parisians in their wake.

[river-bottom-nightmare]

Conner Kent Week 2021, Day Two: Rarepair

Jason knew jokes about how pale Tim was, about how he was either a vampire or the perfect blue blood, about how he needed to get out and absorb some sun for God’s sake. They were met with glares, scathing retorts, smacks with a bo staff, and on one memorable occasion, a horrified Bruce as Tim barged into the house with visible sunburn all along his arms, shoulder and face. (Bruce hadn’t taken Tim’s accusation of But Jason told me to go get some sun! very well.)

Jason wasn’t joking now. Loosely covered in a hospital gown, Tim’s still body seemed to be more devoid of colour than any of the sheets, machines, and tubes surrounding him and attached to his body, keeping him alive in the most impersonal of ways. 

It was quiet, the sort of quiet that muffled any attempted noise with a soft hush, an invisible reprimand at showing signs of life in a place where there should be none. The beeping of the various machines didn’t register, the hum of the fluorescent lights was ignorable. Even the rhythmic tapping of Jason’s foot on the linoleum, a nervous habit he’d never been able to break, was utterly silent. 

It was quiet. At least until Conner Kent barged into the room, his heavy combat boots thudding on the ground and his breath coming out in pants, the terrified look on his face telling Jason that he thought he hadn’t gotten here fast enough.

“He’s fine,” Jason managed not to cough while speaking, the roughness of his throat a physical ache that was just now flaring up. “Full recovery, they said.”

“Good, good, that’s...” Conner dropped into the remaining hospital chair, right next to Jason. “That’s good.”

Silence blanketed them once again. Jason hadn’t ever been in a regular hospital room. He had supposedly spent a while as a patient in one when he’d risen from the dead and trembled around Gotham like a 21st century zombie, but he couldn’t remember any of it. He didn’t think Tim’s best friend had ever been in one either, given a good majority of Tim’s team was invulnerable or had advanced healing in some way. 

Jason was sure Bruce was itching to take Tim to the cave’s medbay, and honestly, Jason found himself on Bruce’s side in this. As much as he liked to distrust the entire Bat clan, he knew they’d give everything they had to make sure Tim was okay, while the hospital was only giving Tim their best care because of the “Wayne” tacked onto the end of his name. Jason had been about to demand Bruce bring him back to the cave no matter what, but Oracle butted in, telling him that Tim been shot as Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne in broad daylight. Bruce couldn’t take Tim home, not without raising some very complicated questions.

So that led them here. Jason being slammed full-force in the face with how much he’d let himself care about the tiny little toothpick, unable to make himself move for fear that Tim would slip away in the one moment he was gone. (Once he’d come back to life and seen how chummy Dick was with Bruce all of a sudden, he’d always expected Dick to drag him back kicking and screaming. He never thought Tim’s unobtrusive yet steady presence, doing his tech work in exchange for food, would lead to the word brother coming to his lips as easy as a breath.)

Next to him, Conner shuffled, and snapped Jason out of his thoughts. “I thought Nightwing would be here.” A statement, subtly posed as a question.

But, still one Jason had an answer to. “Deep cover. A mission he’d been planning for weeks. He doesn’t know.” And he would probably throw a fit about it too, when he came back. Even Jason had to wince a bit at the horrible sense of déjà vu Dick would end up feeling.

“So they sent you instead,” Conner said, and his tone was simple, but Jason found himself getting heated anyway.

“What, you thought the fill-in for Big Bird would be a little better?”

Jason was just burning for a fight, the helplessness he felt at being able to do nothing but sit in a low-quality plastic chair skating up his body and down his arms, forcing his fingers to curl in a fist. He expected the other boy to rise to the bait, having heard Tim’s complaints on how hot-headed Superboy was. 

But something about their current situation caused Conner to just turn and glare at him flatly instead. “You once put him a hospital bed, too. Don’t act like you care about him now when you would’ve celebrated this a couple years ago.” His tone was dismissive, and that dug under Jason’s skin much more than he expected. 

“Well then, it’s a good thing time travel’s reserved for the speedsters, huh? ‘Cause lucky for you, I’m not the same guy I was a couple years ago,” Jason replied scathingly. The next words were ripped from Jason’s throat, and he could almost see the blood splattered on them. “That’s my brother in the shitty hospital bed right there.”

“Yeah? And how long have you even cared about that ‘brother’ of yours?” There it was. Jason could see red trickling into Conner’s cheeks as he let Jason’s words get to him, and found himself oddly curious about that flush.

Still. Argument to win. “Long enough to know him,” Jason shot back. “Long enough to help piece him together after he almost broke. Where were you during that time? Fucking around with your friends or dead?”

“Trying to hold together the team that Tim helped build,” Conner shifted a bit to face Jason more directly head on. “All you’ve done is tear people apart. News flash: having a sort-of truce with Tim doesn’t automatically mean your family loves you again.”

That one hurt. Years of training to keep his emotions hidden was the only thing that kept him from flinching back visibly, but Jason still felt like he’d been slapped. Because the boy was right; just because Tim liked dropping by one of his safehouses every other week doesn’t mean the rest of the family was anywhere near comfortable with him, not after all the pain he’d caused them. And he couldn’t even fault Conner on it, because it wasn’t like he was wrong and it wasn’t like it wasn’t Jason’s own damn fault.

Still. He couldn’t just let that slide. “At least my family loved me to begin with. What do you have? Megalomaniac scientists who built you from an evil billionaire who thinks of you as an experiment at best and supposedly one of the best men on Earth who still thinks you’re not worth his time.”

Too late, Jason realized his insult came out a little too scathing. Conner’s eyes widened, and Jason saw him blink back pinpricks of tears...fuck. He didn’t know when mutual antagonizing had turned into a caustic competition, but he was pretty sure Tim wouldn’t be very happy with the two of them biting each other’s heads off. And Jason was the one that goaded Conner into this to begin with, to let some of his own helpless anger loose. Conner just wanted to make sure his friend was alright.

So, slightly reluctantly, Jason said, “Sorry. That was a bit too far.”

Conner shot him a grimace. “S’okay. You’re keyed up ‘cause of Tim. I get it. You’re still a jackass, though.” After saying his bit, the other boy turned away, taking up another vigil by Tim’s bedside.

...What the hell. It wasn’t like Jason had lied, anyway. If there was one person that had worse daddy issues than Jason did, it was this poor son of a bitch. Back when he was first catching glimpses of updates on what happened in the larger superhero world while he was letting green overtake his mind, he’d marveled a bit at Superboy, and the way the Justice League seemed to speak about it. How bad do you have to be to be Superman’s own son, (sorta), and still have him hold you at arms length. But after Tim’s stories, and after meeting him now, Jason was pretty sure Superman was in the wrong.

You really couldn’t trust anyone, could you?

“Nah. You’re right,” Jason said. “God knows none of the Bats want anything to do with me, so this stupid sort-of truce with this stupid brother’s all I got.”

Conner glanced over at him, surprised. Jason couldn’t blame him, he was a little taken aback at how easily the confession had spilled out of him too. They both knew how closed off people in their line of work were, but Conner seemed to take Jason’s words as an olive branch.

“You were right too. Found out the fun way that parents aren’t worth shit. So the team’s all I got, and Tim’s a big part of that.”

“The kid fucking hates you,” Jason said, putting some good-natured humor into his words to let Conner know he wasn’t entirely serious. “Loves you to death, but complains about you to me all the time.”

Conner snorted. “Look who’s talking. Every week at Titans Tower, it’s all ‘Jason won’t stop scaring off all my informants’ and ‘Jason spit on my copy of Pride and Prejudice and Zombies.’”

“You can’t blame me for that last one, aight?” 

“No, I agree with you,” Conner said. “That movie was terrible. I don’t know why Tim likes it.”

“Because he’s a goddamn loser,” Jason said. He couldn’t say he was expecting Conner to know who he was, much less from stories Tim had told him. But it felt...good, in a way. Nice to be recognized by his media tastes instead of his bone-chilling reputation. Nice to know that the guy Tim wouldn’t shut up about to him knew who he was.

Silence fell in between them again, but it was comfortable, mutually acknowledged and let rest. Jason didn’t break it when Conner stood up, brushed a kiss to Tim’s hair, and left the hospital much quieter than he came. Jason didn’t break it when he made to leave either, squeezing Tim’s hand and mentally willing him to heal faster. Jason didn’t break it all the way home. 

The next day found Jason in a similar position. The positive side of being a mob boss: he didn’t have much in the way of a day job. He didn’t know why cramming himself into an uncomfortable position to stare, with a tight throat, at a kid in a medically induced coma was what he decided to do with his day.

Maybe because the kid had grown on him, latched onto his heart like a leech and didn’t let go until Jason could ruffle his hair and think of him as a little brother without physically throwing up. 

And maybe because he wanted to see Conner again. He didn’t know why, but their brief talk yesterday had loosened something inside his chest. He was used mulling over his regrets, used to Bruce condemning him and giving up on him as a lost cause, used to Dick trying to brush everything aside and form a bond with him again. He wasn’t used to someone staring his sins in the face, then shrugging and forgiving him. 

Forgiveness was much lighter and much less guilt-ridden than Jason expected, and he wanted more of it. From the way Conner had sunk into the same line of thinking as Jason, he wanted more of it too.

Conner didn’t disappoint him, but Jason wasn’t sure when he’d gotten his hopes up high enough to be disappointed in the first place. Calmer, now that he knew Tim was doing better, Conner leaned against the doorframe of hospital room, staring at their resident comatose with a little frown on his lips.

Jason took the time to study him. A black leather jacket stretched across his shoulders, a little more showy than the practical brown one draped across the back of the chair Jason was sitting on. He supposed it fitted in with Superboy’s theme, because anyone who wore that pinwheel-bright costume with the fucking thigh holster Jason saw pictures of online was more than a little showy. There wasn’t much proof of in his simple t-shirt and jeans, though, and Jason almost would’ve been disappointed if it weren’t for the earring hanging from his left earlobe and the tall black boots with glinting metal lace hooks that stretched up their length. Jason bet he owned the exact pair of fingerless gloves that were wrapped around Conner’s wrists right now.

In all of Tim’s vivid descriptions of the guy, Jason never realized how much he had in common with the guy, at least cosmetically.

“How’s he doing?” Conner asked, and jolted Jason out of his reverie. He didn’t make any indication he caught Jason looking, but Jason eyed him in slight embarrassment just in case.

Realizing that Conner was actually waiting for an answer, Jason cleared his throat and leaned forward a bit from his relaxed sprawl. “They say they’ll bring him out of it tomorrow, then a week here before he can go home. That is, if he doesn’t wake up on his own. The doctors say they’re astounded at how fast he’s recovering.”

Conner snorted, then stepped fully into the room. “Can you build up an immunity to injury? Or, like, have your body develop a mini healing factor or something? Just based on the kind of shit we’ve gone through over the years?”

Jason didn’t miss the way Conner put feather’s touch more emphasis on “we,” or the way his eyes flicked over to Jason. “At this point, I’m sure it’s the only way we’ve stayed alive so long.”

“No you didn’t,” Conner chuckled.

Jason’s head whipped up, staring at the other boy with disbelief threading through his mind. It had taken months for Dick to start making death jokes, and even then, he hesitated a bit, as if making sure Jason was okay with it. But after one meeting, Conner just steamrolled ahead, every bit as confident as he appeared to be. Jason found himself laughing too, with genuine amusement albeit a little punched out.

Crossing the room to seat himself in the remaining plastic chair, Conner sunk down with a sigh. “I just want him to wake up already.”

“Yeah, well. Who doesn’t?” Jason said, feeling unreasonably a little disappointed. Of course Conner wanted to talk about Tim, that was the whole reason he’d come to the hospital in the first place. He’d only known Jason for an hour, and a large part of that was spent trading insults back and forth. Of course he didn’t want to talk about how Jason was doing.

“So,” Conner said, turning away from the hospital bed. “How are you doing?”

Or maybe he did. Jason didn’t know what to call the little bubble of satisfaction that flew up his throat and popped in his mouth. “Not bad. Life as a mob boss is kinda boring, whaddya know. You?”

“Playing den mother for a bunch of hypercompetent yet cluelessly stupid baby superheroes is not how I imagined my life going.”

“Playing den mother?”

Conner wrinkled his nose, in a motion that was in no way cute, honestly kind of gross and flat. Jason found himself staring nonetheless. “Bart used to call me Team Mom back when we founded the team, and it caught on. Now, Cassie leads, but since even she says it, everyone fucking says it. They ask me for granola bars and money to buy movie tickets.”

“And?”

Conner sighed. “I give them granola bars and money to buy movie tickets.”

“There you go,” Jason  said, his voice dripping with smug amusement.

“I swear I’m not usually this lame,” Conner pleaded, and his half-smile was aimed straight towards Jason.

“No, no, I believe you. Tim’s told me stories,” Jason said. “Didn’t you once throw some guy into a police car so hard, the car dented and they had to call in a helicopter so the guy didn’t die on the way to the hospital?”

Conner flushed, and Jason found it just as entrancing as last time. “He tried to touch Cassie,” he explained. “And she can take care of herself more than well, I know. I just got a bit...overprotective.”

Jason just laughed. “Don’t worry. I thought it was badass.”

“Really?” Conner’s lips twisted into a sour smile. “Because the League thought it was proof of my, fuck, what was it? Violent, destructive tendencies mirrored on a smaller scale of the schemes of Lex Luthor. Something along those lines.”

Shaking his head with desideration, Jason scoffed. “Sounds about accurate. Besides, you don’t wanna know what the League thinks of me.”

“What?”

“Aside from, like, Joker and Two-Face and Mad Hatter and shit, Red Hood is one one of Batman’s most powerful and dangerous rogues, and must be stopped at all costs.”

Conner was laughing before Jason even finished talking. “I love that for you,” he said. “You’re just so powerful and dangerous. I’m quaking in my boots.”

Jason shoved him lightly, and felt Conner give way on purpose, ignoring how natural and easy the motion felt. “Whatever you say, Luthor Lite.”

“Well, guess I found my new superhero name,” Conner said, finger held up to his chin in mock-thought as if musing something extremely important.

“It’s perfect,” Jason said. “And here we have Conner Kent, ordinary punk-rock farmer. But he’s hiding a secret! When his ‘violent and destructive tendencies’ come out, he turns into...Luthor Lite!”

The two of them collapsed into muffled laughter, Jason stifling his noise by biting his lip and Conner putting his head in the crook of his arm to hide his red face. Pity, Jason liked that flush.

Straightening up with a sigh, Conner offered Jason a little grin. Crimson was still creeping along his cheekbones and the edge of his jaw, and Jason was suddenly struck by the urge to trace it.

“Kon,” Conner said.

“What?”

“Call me Kon,” Conner said. “Everyone does.”

“Kon, huh? With a K, right?” Jason asked, then nodded thoughtfully when Conner made a noise of affirmation. “Is it Kryptonian or something?”

A rueful expression stole it’s way onto Conner’s face, mischievous lips and daring eyes staring at Jason as if challenging him. “Yeah. Kon-el. Kryptonian for ‘abomination’. It’s what they thought of clones.”

A pause. Then, “Wow.” Jason bust out laughing for the second time. “That’s metal as fuck. Good for you, Kon.”

“Says the guy who took the name of the person who killed him, then twisted it into something so horrifying that now, no one else associates it with anything other than you.”

“Is that judgement I hear?”

“Respect,” Kon said, and his smile was oddly shy, the first time he’d shown that emotion since he’d met Jason. Jason liked the way it looked on him; it suited him oddly well.

They were quiet for a minute, grinning at each other like buffoons, but Jason couldn’t find the heart to stop. Eventually, Kon stood up and rolled out his shoulders to stretch. “I gotta get going. I’m meeting Bart and Cassie, updating them about Tim.”

“They’re waking Tim up in the afternoon,” Jason said. “Bruce is gonna be here, plus Steph. So I’d stay clear.”

“Gotcha, thanks. I’ll come in the morning.”

A proposition, if Jason ever saw one, and there was no way he could have refused. “I’ll be here,” he said, and kept his eyes on Kon until he rounded a corner, away from sight.

Kon was already there when Jason came to visit Tim the next day, and he gave him a friendly, if a tad flirtatious, smile. Jason responded, accidentally putting too much emotion into the greeting than he would have liked, but it made Kon brighten, so Jason didn’t feel too bad. 

Dropping heavily into what had become “his” chair, Jason shrugged off his jacket. He gave himself a mental high-five when he noticed Kon staring at his shoulders, but made no motion to address it.

“If all goes to plan, he’ll be the same annoying little prep boy that’s always annoying the hell out of me by tonight,” Jason said.

“He’ll be fine,” Kon said, and his voice was quiet, but there was an undercurrent of confidence curling around his words. He sounded like he had utter faith in Tim. Jason wished some of that would bleed over.

“He’s a tough little shit,” Jason said, then repeated Kon’s words. “He’ll be fine.”

“How ‘bout you?”

“Hm?” Jason raised an inquiring brow. “Oh, I’m all good It’s not me that’s hurt.”

“Jason,” Kon snorted. “If I have learned anything over the past two days, it is the fact that you are most definitely not ‘all good.’”

“Yeah well,” Jason said. “You’re one to talk.”

Kon made a noncommittal noise, and shrugged as if to say what can you do? “We’ve all got issues. But I get the feeling that you’re not as closed off and angry as you let people believe. Or maybe you are, but you don’t want to.”

Jason bit back the first response that came into his mind, telling Kon that no, he was closed off and angry, just not with him. But that wasn’t the truth, and he definitely didn’t have the courage to say it out loud. So instead, he said, “Maybe. Not gonna lie, from the way Tim and everyone talks about you, I was expecting more...”

“Cocky little frat boy?” Kon asked, smirking.

“More or less.”

Kon sighed, then looked down to where his hands were fiddling with each other. “Superman doesn’t act like a cocky little frat boy. Neither does Lex Luthor.”

“You’re not either of them,” Jason said, realization pouring into his mind like spilled oil. “You’re not either of them, but no one else seems to get that, so you make it as obvious as possible.”

“A couple people got that eventually,” Conner said, looking up at Tim with a soft smile. “Not many, though. And none as quickly as you.”

Kon leaned back, level with Jason now, turned to face him, something on his face that Jason couldn’t read. The chairs seemed much closer than Jason could remember, but he wasn’t very much banking on his memory right now. 

“Yeah, well,” Jason said, feeling a little lame. “What can I say. Misery likes company, and companies read each other through water.”

“Never heard that one before.”

“I came up with it,” Jason said. 

“I like it,” Kon smiled, then leaned forward with an ease Jason had been determined to build up first.

A little peeved at Kon beating him to it, Jason closed the distance first, the kiss probably a little too rough. But given the way they’d met, Jason felt like the bite he gave Kon was justified, even if the other boy was invulnerable.

Jason had made plenty of bad decisions in his life, and he knew exactly what they felt like. This wasn’t one of them. There was no chance that the way Kon’s hands coming up to cup Jason’s face, dragging his nail down Jason’s jaw, was anything other than good. No chance the way Kon’s soft hair suddenly threaded through his fingers was anything other than soft, no chance the soft noise Kon made in the back of his throat was anything other than delightful.

Yeah, Jason knew bad decisions. And despite the avalanche of bad decisions that seemed to make up every inch of Jason, from his scarred hands to his chipped nails, despite the pile-up of thoughtless ideas that led to this boy being made, despite how intimately familiar Jason was with regrets, he was certain Conner Kent wasn’t one of them.

------------

this was almost 4k what the fuck

also. please imagine tim waking up to see his best friend and older brother aggressively making out in the plastic hospital chairs next to him. 

anway, suddenly i have a new ship.

imma post this on ao3 later, it got a bit long

tag list: @woahjaybird @birdy-bat-writes @anothertimdrakestan @screennamealreadyused @subtleappreciation @pricetagofficial @catxsnow @bikoncon @bonkybearjpeg @maplumebleue-blog-blog @sundownridge @thatsthewhump

[hotchley]

like blood underneath your fingernails

Honestly, I’m quite proud of this one. It’s been in the works for a while, and I finally have a title (from Looking Too Closely- Fink) and I both did those flashcards and emptied the dishwasher, so it’s here now. It’s been proofread!! Once. In the car.

The writers (according to the internet) did not deal with the aftermath of Scratch’s initial... thing. So I took it upon myself to write the case after. It got dark, but I had fun writing it. And it has low-key Mortch vibes... a lot of other amazing writers have also written fics linked to this, so you need to read those too because they’re just the best

OH!! This is not a Rossi-friendly fic. I have tried to explain why he responds the way he does, but it does come off as Rossi bashing, so if you reallllly love him and think he was a great friend to Hotch... skip on this one.

Trigger Warnings: dissociation, aftermath of torture, a slight reference to suicide and child death, canon-typical violence, cases involving kidnappings and murder, blood, dark themes, other canon-typical darkness, hallucinations

read on ao3!

He cannot close his eyes.

Because when he closes his eyes, he sees one of them, falling to the ground as the light leaves their eyes and the life leaves their body because his worst fear has never been his own death. It has always been the death of the family he is meant to protect- whether that was Sean, or Haley or the team. 

He hears the fear in JJ's voice as Spencer, her little brother, the boy that has always been too young, the man that he has never succeeded in saving, falls to the ground, eyes never opening again. 

He tastes the horrifying and coppery tang of blood as Derek is shot right in front of his eyes, the blood splattering onto his cheek and every sentence Reid has ever spoken about the bacteria and pathogens in blood springing to the forefront of his mind.

He smells the bitter and disgusting sage that Peter Lewis uses to torment people and turn them into brutal murderers that cannot stand the sight of their own hands or wrap their heads around their actions because they had always been normal and good, and it hurts because he's already a killer, never once normal or good.

He touches the knife that was slid towards him, the metal cool against his warm hand and the weight a comforting thing that make him feel like he could regain control of the situation he was in, despite the thoughts of George Foyet that fill his mind, and he wonders whether Scratch is impotent.

He closes his eyes and he no longer knows what is real.

It is why he is returning to work only ten days after the case. He had wanted to take the usual five, terrified even of that small number because he couldn't trust himself. The doctors that assessed him in the hospital wanted him to take thirty. Ten, and a passed psychological evaluation, had been the compromise.

He wonders if the team knows how he lied. They must do. They aren't stupid. He wonders if anyone will call him out on it, or if they'll once again be so terrified of the humanity he wants nothing more than to cling to that they will simply watch and wait until he shatters again.

The steady ticking of the clock is the only noise in the otherwise silent apartment. When he flicks the light on, he sees there are still five hours until he needs to wake up. For a single moment, he closes his eyes, contemplating whether or not attempting to sleep is a pointless exercise. He swears he can still taste sage and opens his eyes again.

A silent house is not necessarily a bad thing. It means Jack is sleeping through the night, no nightmares about the gunshots haunting him. And it means the extra locks on the door, the obsessive way he checks every window is locked as soon as the sun goes down, are doing their job at keeping the monsters out of the only home Jack has real memories of.

Aaron creeps out of bed, grabbing the jumper that was folded at the foot of his bed. Once he's put it on, he sighs to himself and counts to five. For each number, he tells himself a fact that cannot be disputed. That grounds him.

His name is Aaron Hotchner.

He is forty-four years old. 

He is standing inside his bedroom, in his apartment, which is located in Virginia.

The windows of that apartment are locked from the inside.

Just down the hallway, his son is sleeping peacefully, untouched by the monsters that strangle his father every single day.

He creeps down that hallway, taking comfort when the same floorboard that always creaks does just that. Normally he would avoid it. But lately he's been finding every opportunity to do something that Peter Lewis would have no knowledge of, if only so he can convince himself he's fine.

Jack's door is slightly open, allowing some light to enter. Aaron nudges it gently, making sure he doesn't wake Jack. The door doesn't make a sound, and his son carries on sleeping. He never looks so similar to his mother as he does when he sleeps. Haley slept on her left side, a slight smile on her face, and Jack does the same, unless he has a bad dream.

But even then, he is so much like his mother that his tears can be turned into something beautiful. Aaron was the exception of their little family, having always expressed his emotions so honestly, the few times he let himself do that, that there was no way it could be anything but ugly and human.

He's too big for the chair in front of Jack's desk, but he sits in it anyways, turning it so he can face Jack's bed. On the table is his latest art project- a collage of things that remind him of the people he loves- and Aaron finds it difficult to look at. Because his son has painted his mother as a perfect angel, and his father a superhero.

One day, Jack will realise his father is the furthest thing from the superhero and he will hate him for destroying his childhood and taking his mother from him before he was old enough to understand that people were mortal. Aaron is mentally preparing for that day- there are already so many letters that will never excuse or justify what he did hidden in his office drawer- but until then. he will allow himself this one good thing.

He will allow himself to sit, and take comfort in the steady rise and fall of Jack's chest. He ends up staying there until sunlight starts to stream through the window, and then he takes his leave. 

Seeing Jack, sleeping so calmly and normally, reminds him of why he's going back to work. Because if he hurts the wrong person there, the team won't hesitate and they'll do it. If he hurts Jack- and he knows he's weaker than the man that refused to harm his son, knows that it will be Jack- there will be nobody there to end his pain and suffering. He'll be forced to live with it.

A minute before his alarm is set to go, he turns it off, and then he goes about morning like it is any other day. 

He doesn't feel like himself till he puts the watch Dave got him when became lead profiler on, tightening the strap till it mirrors the feeling of holding the knife. And he wonders whether the team are discussing his return to duty the same way they had six years ago. 

They are. Aaron's absence meant more paperwork for the rest of them, as there is no way the team are going to let him handle it when he comes back, so every single one of them are in an hour earlier. It also means his return will be as smooth as it can be.

Even if they don't all approve.

"It's only been ten days," Derek says. "He needs more time."

"Does he? He came back thirty-four days after George Foyet stabbed him in his apartment and his wife and son were sent into Witness Protection, and he was fine. This is like child's play compared to that," Dave says, fiddling with a paperclip.

"Ex-wife," Reid corrects quietly. 

The three of them are sitting in the bullpen, looking towards the elevator every few minutes. Kate pretends she's not listening, and Derek pretends he believes her.

"Was he fine? He looked us in the eye and asked why a man that had lost his wife and child was still alive. He walked into a hostage situation unarmed. We all pretended he was fine because we needed Foyet to strike, but I'm not making that mistake again. Not after what happened when he did end up striking," Derek snaps.

Spencer swallows. Dave just raises an eyebrow. It's almost funny. Spencer views Aaron as a father, Dave as a son. Either way, they both believe he is perfect. Able to come back from anything and everything with nothing more than a broken ego. But Derek remembers what Foyet's body looked like, and he remembers how Aaron had shattered in his arms for those few seconds.

"If you want to ruin his first day back, then be my guest. But you need to trust him the same way he trusts us. After all, you care more about him than you do your job," Dave says, annoyance bleeding into his tone.

And Derek gets it. He really does. He had wanted to believe Gideon was invincible when he came back after Boston. Everyone had. So they hadn't done anything, and he had just gotten more and more reckless with his actions until innocent people ended up dead and Hotch got suspended. And then he ran. 

He isn't going to let that happen again.

"This isn't about not trusting him. This is about keeping him safe. And you're right. I do care about him more, because the last time I didn't, he almost retired. So we either do the opposite of what we did last time, or we let history repeat itself."

"Derek, you can't force him into anything. He passed his psych eval, so Cruz can't do anything either," Spencer says. 

Derek softens as he turns to him. "I know pretty boy. It's not about forcing him into anything. It's about making sure he knows that we're here if he needs more time, or if he needs a break. And don't get me started on that psych eval. I saw his answers. They're too perfect. He's lying."

"So what are you going to do?" Dave challenges, and not for the first time, Derek wonders how Aaron kept his sanity working with him, Jason Gideon and Max Ryan at the same time without any of the other members to meet his eyes with the same exasperated look every time one of them reverted to the old fashioned way of doing things.

"Be the friend he trusts me to be," Derek says. It's his own challenge. Dave prides himself on being the only one to call him Aaron. To people outside the team, Rossi seems to be the only one that Aaron trusts enough to be vulnerable with. 

But Derek knows better. Aaron will never be completely open with anyone, but he still feels like he has a duty to be the hopeful and undamaged boy that thought he could save the world that Dave recruited. He still has a duty to be the father that Spencer never had and thought he'd found in Gideon. It is only with Derek that he allows himself to do his own type of falling apart: one that is contained and messy and ugly. Somehow both terrifying and anticlimactic

It was Derek that stopped him from running into a burning building all those years ago. It was Derek that was voluntarily told about Haley leaving. It was Derek that stepped up as Unit Chief and pulled him off Foyet's dead body. Not Dave and certainly not Spencer. So he won't let them influence his actions. Not this time.

Hotch does blink. But only when he thinks nobody will see him do it.

Dave keeps eye contact for a few more moments, but this time, Derek does not break it. Eventually the older man turns around and heads to his office. Derek sighs, knowing fully well that Aaron is going to end up doing the paperwork anyways.

"Is he going to be okay?" Spencer asks, sounding so painfully young that Derek has to look at him to remember he wasn't the new recruit anymore.

"Dave? Yeah, he'll be annoyed, we'll get a case and then everything will be fine," Derek says, smiling so Reid doesn't worry.

"No I meant Hotch. Will he be okay?"

Derek can't tell him the truth. "Of course he will. He's Hotch."

"Why are you lying to me?"

He knows there's no point in trying to deny it. "I'm not trying to patronise you or keep you in the dark. It's not that. It's just- I don't know. It's stupid, but I want to shield you from his mortality and flaws and imperfections for as long as is humanly possible. You are always going to have a different relationship with Hotch because of how much younger you are, and I just don't want to be the one that ruins it."

"So you want to protect me?"

Derek nods. "I guess."

"Thank you. Nobody ever did that when I was younger," Spencer says.

Kate breaks the ensuing silence by asking for Spencer's opinion on her consult, and Derek starts watching the elevator doors again. They don't open until precisely nine, when Hotch steps off, dressed in the same suit and tie he wears every second Monday of the month, carrying his briefcase and acting like nothing happened.

He gives them a slight smile as he passes them in the bullpen, and even those few seconds are enough for Derek to see that he hasn't been sleeping.

When Aaron sets his briefcase down, Spencer looks to him, nervous. Derek gives him a small smile, even though they all saw him as he entered. It's only been ten days since they last saw him, but his suits seem to hang from him more than before. Dave looks out at them, and Derek starts to count.

He counts to three hundred, and is immediately struck by just how fast time can go. Three hundred seconds is five minutes, and yet it feels like no time has passed. But when Hotch looks out at them, as he always does, everyday, without fail, ten days feels like a lifetime.

He is terrified as he stands, but he fights through the fear and goes up to his friend's office. The door is open, so he walks in without knocking. When Hotch looks at him, he closes both the door and the blinds. Hotch swallows as the sound of them closing fills the air.

"I don't want them profiling this conversation," he explains.

Aaron just nods. "Thank you."

"You don't need to pretend with me," Derek says.

Aaron looks away, and Foyet's presence, usually contained to the self-deprecating voice in his head telling him he's no better than his father, seems to fill the room. They both know why he doesn't pretend anymore.

"I don't know what you want me to say."

"You don't need to say anything. I don't expect you to tell me the truth, because I wouldn't, if I was you. I'd be too terrified. But I remember what it was like seeing Spencer and Emily. So if you do want to talk, then I'm here. Always. And I won't flinch."

Aaron knows this to be true. When they finally got back to Quantico after Jason's death, Derek found him sobbing in the men's bathroom, the barriers he had spent so long piecing together completely breaking when he opened his drawer and found a photo from the early days, where Jason looked happy and hopeful. He hadn't said anything. Just sat beside him, and offered a tissue. 

"I know you won't."

Derek sighs, not sure what he's meant to do. "Aaron-" he starts, not sure what he's going to see next.

"I can't trust myself. I- I don't know what's real, and I keep trying to do the grounding things that the bureau therapist said I need to, but I don't know if they're working. I have post-it notes all over the apartment and I have my five facts, and I have things I can touch, but Scratch knew so much, I can't- I feel like he's everywhere and he knows everything."

It is so honestly vulnerable that Derek wants nothing more than to flee, if only so he can cling to the Aaron that existed when he first joined the unit for just one more moment. But he made a promise. And he has no idea how he's meant to keep it, but he's going to.

He holds his hand out. When Aaron doesn't take it, he leans over the desk, gently linking their fingers. "I'm here. With you. Scratch can't get our body temperatures perfect. He can't know that I'm always slightly warmer and you're always colder. He can't know that twelve years ago, I called you darling because I didn't realise it was you."

Aaron chuckles slightly. "Derek."

"You don't need to say anything. I messed up after Foyet. I won't do that again."

He shakes his head, finally meeting his eyes, and the fire in them is almost enough to convince Derek that everything is going to be fine. Almost.

"You did everything you could after Foyet. If you had tried to do more, I would have stopped you. We both know that. You did everything right, everything perfectly right and you cannot feel like you failed because you didn't. Do you understand me?"

Derek swallows. “Yes. But you need to understand that if you need anything- and I mean anything, whether it’s for me to take the reins for a bit, an unofficial firearms certification, or even just to do the grounding techniques with you, I will.”

Aaron nods. “I know Derek. I know. Thank you.”

Derek gives him the most convincing smile he can, leaving the door open because Aaron hated having it closed. As he exits. Dave steps in, and he sees as Aaron morphs back into Hotch to be the man that Dave needs him to be. It hurts to see, but he understands why it happens.

He doesn’t believe in God. He hasn’t for a while. But he needs to do something other than stare at dead bodies, so he prays that the team remain grounded for a few days. Not for too long because then Aaron will get suspicious and realise that Derek had been forging Rossi’s signature in order to transfer their out of state cases to other teams, but long enough for him to get settled once more.

Or as settled as he would ever be.

It’s probably why, only minutes after Dave leaves Hotch’s office, smiling, whilst the other man just looks exhausted, JJ comes rushing into the bullpen. There are five files in her arms, and she looks frantic. 

“No,” Derek says.

“I’m sorry, but we need to go on this one. It came directly to me. It’s- just look.”

He doesn’t want to, but as JJ goes to give the files to Dave and Aaron, he does, if only so he can gauge how much support he will need. And as he opens it, he understands exactly why they’re going on this case. Why, even if JJ had tried to hide it from Hotch, he would’ve said they had a duty.

They have four victims. All blonde women. All mothers. All divorced. Killed by a single gunshot to the head. No evidence of sexual assault, but they were held captive and tortured for three days before being dumped in their home. All found by their ex-husbands, who were only there to drop the child off.

Hotch does not show an ounce of humanity during the journey there. It terrifies Derek. Hotch only refuses to show how human he is when he’s close to falling apart. Too close for anyone to feel comfortable. Instead, he keeps his tone detached and professional. Derek pretends to not notice the way Aaron pushes down on his stomach, over the biggest scar Foyet left. Aaron pretends he doesn’t see Derek watching him.

When they get to the station, Derek knows it’s going to be a long case. Him and Reid are sent to the coroner’s office, whilst JJ and Kate are tasked with searching through their victims history. Which means Hotch and Rossi are left to interview the husbands. JJ and Derek- the most attuned to Hotch and the thought behind his actions- make a silent agreement that they will do whatever it takes to make sure Rossi doesn’t go too far. Whatever that means.

They fail because they don’t get the chance to speak to him before they leave the precinct.

And when they return, Dave is nowhere to be seen, and Aaron is sat in the conference room, clenching his jaw and hyper focused on the details in the case files.

“Did you get anything from the husbands?” JJ asks, tone gentle.

Hotch shakes his head. “They’re grieving, and terrified for their children. But they’re not guilty. They all loved their wives.”

Nobody bothers to point out all four couples were divorced.

"Where's Rossi?" Reid asks.

The tension in Aaron's shoulders increases.

"Hotch," Kate says, the only one that can.

"He accused one of the father's of committing the crime," Hotch says.

JJ and Morgan give each other identical looks. Kate looks horrified, and Spencer is stunned speechless.

"What happened after?" she prompts.

Hotch doesn't speak. Kate sighs, then leads JJ away. As she passes Spencer, she asks him to follow her because Hotch and Morgan need to speak alone. He nods and leaves without another word.

"Aaron," Derek says.

"I ended the interrogation and dragged him out of the room. And then I punched him in the face because those women remind me of Haley and those fathers remind me of myself and every accusation he made reminded me of the months after her death and I couldn't do it."

Derek wants to punch Dave himself. He must have known what he was doing, and in some strange and obscure way thought his actions would help the situation. Clearly he couldn't have been more wrong.

"You didn't cause Haley's death," he says, for lack of any other words.

"I did. Maybe I didn't put the gun to her head and pull the trigger, but I did cause it. That's not what I'm scared about though."

"What are you scared of then?" Derek asks, well aware that they're in the middle of a police station where anyone could hear them, but needing to take advantage of Aaron's vulnerability before he let his mask slip back into place.

"Scratch. I punched Dave and it felt like Scratch was laughing at me, egging me on to hurt him more. The worst part is that I almost did. Punching him felt good, and then I panicked and now I don't know- I don't know whether the only thing I did was punch him or if I did something more."

Derek curses under his breath. "How long have you been feeling like that?"

Hotch shrugs. "I couldn't- I forgot what time it was when I stumbled back here. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he says, the words almost reflexive because of every apology Aaron has ever given him. "We just need to ground you."

He takes Aaron's hands, noting that the muscles are moving the way they should be. It's a small thing, but it's a good thing, because it means he's wearing the wrist support when he needs them and doing the physical therapy.

“Look at me,” he commands softly.

Aaron does so willingly. “Derek, we’re in a conference room.”

“That’s good. Can you give me four other facts that prove you’re here, in this moment with me?”

"My name is Aaron Hotchner. I am forty-four years old. We are in a police station. You are Derek Morgan. There is a door behind you and a window behind me- the window is locked, but the door is wide open. We can both see if someone walks in."

"Show off," Derek teases.

Aaron manages to smile slightly. “Thank you,” he whispers after a moment.

“You have nothing to thank me for,” Derek says. He means it.

This time, Aaron’s laugh is self-deprecating. “I’m a horrible person to look after.”

“Not to me you’re not. How do you feel now?”

He shrugs. “Better, I guess.”

“Drink some water. Slowly. I’ll go check on Dave.”

“Do you think he’s going to hate me?” Aaron asks.

“You’re the closest thing he has to a friend. Of course not,” Derek says. He keeps his tone light, but deep down he’s afraid that Dave will. Not forever, he could never do that, but for long enough that something else goes wrong.

He finds Dave in the bathroom. 

“Hotch told me what happened,” he says.

“And what? You’re here to tell me that I shouldn’t have pushed because he’s fragile and hurting? Did you tell him that he shouldn’t have fucking punched me in the face because of something I said to a suspect?”

“Those men were not suspects and you know that,” Derek snaps. He sighs. “I wasn’t coming here to tell you that you shouldn’t have pushed. I came to see whether or not you were okay.”

Dave raises an eyebrow. Derek sighs, again.

“He saw Scratch when he punched you. Now he’s worried. And he’s falling back into old patterns. I told him he didn’t kill Haley and not only did he not believe me, he flat out disagreed and said he did.”

“What do you want me to do?” Dave asks. He doesn’t sound angry, just tired. Derek wants to shout at him. He may be tired after this one event, but he’s not been the one picking up the pieces and gluing their fragile leader back together for the past few years. Dave doesn’t get to be tired. Not whilst Derek is still the only one able to do anything.

“I don’t know Dave. You’ve known him the longest. It was you that found him in the immediate aftermath. You took the gun from him- rather poetic given the last time an unsub targeted him, you told him to take yours- and got him to speak.”

Dave blinks a few times. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I thought being hard on him would bring him back, but I was wrong.”

“It’s okay. You just need to correct yourself now,” Derek says, for lack of any other words.

“I just want him to be the boy he was when he first joined the unit,” Dave whispers.

Derek did not know the boy his friend was then, but he does know the Aaron that existed before Boston. The Aaron that held a baby Jack in their arms like that one small child was enough to remove every piece of darkness to exist. The Aaron that had grabbed Haley’s hand and taken her dancing so they could spend a bit of time together.

"We all do. But he's gone now. The only thing we can do is try to save whatever pieces of him live in the Aaron that is sat in the conference room, beating himself up over something that was not his fault because of your misplaced comment," Derek says. They have a killer to catch. There's no time to entertain this.

"I know. Thank you. For doing what the rest of us are too afraid to," Dave replies. Derek shifts uncomfortably under the weight of his gaze. 

Something about the dynamic between the two men has changed, and everybody has noticed.

"Somebody has to," is all he can say, before he leaves Rossi to wash his hands and search for the man that had promised Aaron everything he could ever want, all those years ago when he first recruited him for the BAU.

There's an empty glass of water beside Hotch when Derek returns, and he's silently thankful that for once in his life, Aaron listened. He's deep in conversation with one of the police officers, so he refrains from making any comments, but when Aaron turns back towards the table, he goes over without a second thought.

He tells himself it's because he wants to know what happened just then. Because he wants to know whether or not they have any more information that can be used to their advantage. He tells himself it has nothing to do with the fact that learning about the case means he doesn't have to focus on the minute tremble of Hotch's hands. Doesn't have to see the hollow look in his eyes- a look of a man so defeated that he has no reason to try anymore.

The problem with being a profiler is that you rarely fall for anyone's bullshit- including your own.

“Did the officer have some additional information?” Derek asks.

Hotch hears him, obviously, but does not respond.

“Hotch,” he repeats.

“No. He didn’t. He wanted to know why you were holding my hands.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “And what did you say?”

“That ten days a man that managed to turn people that would never dare hurt another person into horrific killers drugged me, causing me to hallucinate the deaths of the same people that are solving his case for him, and as a result, I cannot always tell when things are real,” Aaron deadpans.

For a moment, Derek honestly can’t tell whether or not he’s joking. Then Aaron gives him the smallest smile, and he relaxes slightly. The last thing they need happening is officers spreading even more rumours about the types of cases the BAU work on.

He starts to reply with a joke of his own, then sees Aaron’s smile fade away like it was never there. He wonders how instinctive the action is- how many times was that little boy told he was too much, and how many times did he fade into the background like he didn’t even exist?

Without turning, he knows it’s Dave.

“I’m going to see if Spencer needs any help,” Derek says.

For a moment, it seems like Aaron is going to beg him to stay. But like most of his displays of humanity, it passes in a second, and then he simply nods, not even trying to fight.

“Aaron,” Dave says, walking over with purpose.

“Rossi don’t. Please,” Aaron pleads.

“What you did was stupid. But my actions were also uncalled for,” he says. It’s the closest he’ll ever get to a proper apology. Aaron accepts it because there’s not much else he can do. Dave pretends it’s going to fix everything because it’s the only thing that will get him through the case.

“Do you seriously think the fathers are to blame?” Hotch asks.

Rossi shakes his head. “Not anymore. I just needed to be sure.” He also needed to be sure that Aaron was fine, and given his response to Rossi’s accusation, he can’t say he’s convinced.

"Good," Aaron says, and the smile he gives Dave is so small and subtle, but so full of love, that for a single moment, the older profiler is able to convince himself that the fragile collection of skin and bones in front of him is still the hopeful boy that joined the unit. But then the moment passes and he's left feeling worse than before.

When the team come back, picking up on the cues that both Hotch and Rossi laid down, they go back to acting like nothing is wrong. Like the women in the photos are victims that deserve justice, and not the mirror of the same light they failed to save five years ago.

There are no breaks in the case, and they return to the hotel defeated and miserable. Budget problems mean they're doubling up. Part of Derek wants to switch rooms with Dave so he can keep an eye on Aaron, but the bigger part of him knows it would be a terrible idea, so he texts him saying that if he needs anything, no matter what time it is, he'll be available.

Aaron mouths the words thank you once he's read the message. Derek counts it as a win, and he tries to remain calm when Dave texts him saying that when he entered the shower- after Hotch- although the water dial was set to be normal, the water ran hot. Too hot.

He refrains from commenting the next morning, when Aaron clasps his glass of freezing water like a lifeline. In some ways, it is. And he knows what it's a sign of. He isn't sure whether it's caused by something in particular, or if he's just overwhelmed, but the hotel dining area- where Kate and Spencer would both hear- isn't the place to ask.

They get to the precinct, and it becomes clear that nobody there has slept. Another woman was found dead a few minutes before they got there. The father and son are sitting in the same conference room the BAU were working out of. For a moment, Aaron looks like he's going to kill the person that sent them there. The lead on the case quickly intercepts, saying they moved the boards and evidence files, and he relaxes slightly.

But before anyone can sleep, he removes his blazer and tie, before unbuttoning his top button and rolling his sleeves up. And then he walks into the conference room. Derek blinks, then it clicks. Aaron looks like a father. Someone both people sat in the room can trust. JJ hands him the information on the file, and his breathing stops for a moment.

The father and son could have been Aaron and Jack. If Aaron's eyes were darker and Jack's hair lighter, they would be the boys smiling in the photo provided with the file. He wants to take over the conversation Hotch must be having, but he finds himself rooted to the spot. How many cases are going to hit too close to home before Aaron gives up? Before it feels like every victim wears Haley's face? 

How many more times can Aaron Hotchner look into the darkest parts of humanity before his hands stop going cold at crime scenes and Derek Morgan needs to take his place in some weird parallel of the events that occurred after Boston? 

When the father and son leave the room, he jumps out of his chair and runs over.

"We will catch this man. And if you need anything, please don't hesitate to contact me," he hears Aaron say.

He sighs to himself.

The father shakes his hand and leaves, guiding his son with nothing more than a gentle hand to the back of his head. He sees Aaron swallow. 

"You know you can't promise things like that," he chastises, not truly meaning it.

"It wasn't a promise. It was a guarantee," Hotch snaps.

Morgan simply raises an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry."

"Want to tell me about it?"

"I told him about Haley, and how I found her. And about how Jack was just down the hallway in my office- the one place in our home that my work touched, even if he never found it- so now he can't be alone on New Years or Independence Day. I only said it because he told me I didn't understand what it was like. To have to do that."

No amount of surgery is ever going to fix the hole in Aaron's heart that Haley's death created. They could plant seeds of love and watch them blossom into flowers of acceptance and fearlessness in every other part of his body, but that one area could never be touched.

Derek knows this. He's seen it before.So he doesn't offer any words, because there are none. Instead, he takes Aaron's arm and he squeezes the elbow. It is Aaron's non-verbal method of saying thank you. So in that moment, it can also be his.

Aaron isn't entirely sure why Derek is thanking him, but he learnt long ago that when someone said something, you didn't push. You accepted their words- whether they were kind declarations of love or as sharp as knives- and you moved on.

When Derek lets go of him, he walks back over to the team, feeling slightly lighter and infinitely more grounded.

Kate tells him another woman had been taken, and the weight he thought he'd been able to let go off settles on his chest like a death threat. There is a single moment where she worries that this will be the thing that causes him to fall off the edge of the cliff he's been standing on for far too long, but then he stands up properly and it's like nothing ever happened.

He doesn't sleep, instead pouring over the case file whilst Rossi gently snores beside him. If Jason had been with the team. he would've somehow realised that Hotch was still awake, and told him to go to sleep. And Hotch would've obeyed. But Jason wasn't with the team. He was dead. And sometimes that knowledge knocked Aaron off guard, so he stopped focusing on that and started concentrating on the woman.

Their break comes the next morning.

Garcia hasn't slept either, and between the two of them, they have a name and a location. Everyone piles into the cars, vests on and weapons ready, because even though nobody had said it, there was no way this is ending without at least one shot being fired.

The door to the building is unlocked, and they have their unsub surrounded within seconds. Hotch suddenly feels like a bucket of ice has been poured over him, causing him to freeze, and the blood to start pounding in his ears. Nothing feels real to him. He tightens the grip on his gun.

His name is Aaron Hotchner.

He is forty-four years old.

He is holding a gun because he is on a case.

The unsub is holding a knife to a woman's throat.

The woman looks just like Haley- no. He cannot think that. Not now. 

"Let her go," JJ commands softly.

"No," their unsub says.

What is his name? And why can Aaron not remember his name?

"If you put that knife down, and let her go, we can tell the courts that you cooperated with us. That'll be nice, won't it?" Kate adds. Her tone is completely level. Calming in a way that it shouldn't be.

The unsub grins, then presses the knife even closer to his victim's throat. She lets out a terrified whimper and closes her eyes. He yanks her hair, forcing her to open then, and he seems pleased with himself.

"I don't care about the courts. I care about the man I'm doing all of this for. He's going to be great, and he's going to make me great too. Just you wait and see."

This wasn't part of the profile. There was never meant to be a more dominant partner. The control Aaron has been clinging to in order to get through this case is slowly slipping away with each piece of information he either cannot remember or is introduced to him. 

"He? Who is he?" Spencer asks.

The man cocks his head. "Is it not obvious?"

Spencer shakes his head. "We're not like you. We need you to explain."

He nicks the skin slightly. Blood pools at the tip of the blade. Another digression from the previous pattern. No knives were ever used to cut the skin. The kills had been quick and clean. Why was everything changing?"

"I won't."

"The only way you get out of this alive is if you explain everything to us. Because this man, he won't make you great. Whoever he is, he only cares about himself. Not you. Certainly not your life. But we care about you. Just set the knife down," Derek says.

Aaron knows he needs to contribute, but he just can't do it. His tongue is like a useless knot in his mouth that he can't undo because his brain is twisted too.

"No," the man says, bringing it dangerously close to the woman's pulse.

"Aaron!" Derek shouts. "You're the only one with a clear shot. You need to take it. Or do something. Do you hear me? You are the only one that can do this. If he moves that knife, take the shot."

Aaron turns in the sound of the voice. Derek is telling him that he needs to take the shot, and he can see why. With the way they're stood, he is the only one that can possibly avoid hitting either the woman or another team member. 

He raises his hands, ignoring how they tremble. Front sight. Trigger press. Follow through. Three steps that he has been following since his days at the Academy. Three steps that mean he has never missed. Never failed.

The man smirks.

Aaron turns to make sure nobody else will get hurt, or can take the shot. But when he looks at Derek, it's not Derek.

It's Peter Lewis.

"No," he whispers, but in the silence of the room, he may as well have shouted at the top of his voice.

He turns to look at the man, and he sees that he is about to shoot Derek Morgan. The one person that has never been afraid of him. The one man that is still good and undamaged by his hands. The one man that can and has led the team without any sort of assistance with him.

"Aaron!" Derek's voice exclaims, but he still wears Mr Scratch's face.

Aaron does not know what is real anymore, but he knows he needs to minimise the damage. The gun falls from his hands, with the safety off. It lands on the floor with a clatter that is too loud to his ears.

Their unsub laughs, once, and slits the woman's throat. She falls to the ground, dead by the time she hits the ground. Derek- real Derek, whose hands have always been warmer than his- fires his gun once. The unsub also falls to the ground with a shout.

Aaron closes his eyes.

He hears his name.

He tastes copper.

He touches his own hand, startled by the coldness.

He sees Derek's terrified face.

He smells sage.

He smells sage.

He smells sage. And then the world goes black.

When he comes round, he does not know where he is. He does not know where the team is. He cannot ground himself in the moment or come up with five facts that prove his surroundings are real. 

He opens his eyes. The team is gone.

And he is covered in blood.

[noladyme]

My Only Sunshine - Chapter 1

Liv is as human as they come – faults and all. After a dark experience in her past, she is determined to live life on her own terms, and never let anyone claim her as theirs again. This becomes an issue, when she meets a 1000-yearold vampire, who is dead-set on claiming her as his own.

TW: Blood

It was a warm night, and I was wearing my favorite summer dress, seated on a velvet couch, in an old house.

“Well, miss Sunday. Thank you very much for coming all the way out here to speak to me. I’ll go over your resumé one more time, but I think I’ve heard all I need”. The dark-haired, pale man gave me a friendly smile. I knew better than to reach out my hand for him to shake, and simply got up to stand, and nodded at him. “Thank you, Mr. Compton”, I smiled. “Just let me know if there’s anything else you need… So, interview over?”. “Interview’s over”, he said. “Good! Calling you Mr. Compton was getting weird!”, I laughed. “Well, you did insist”. “It was a job-interview. It was only proper”, I shrugged.

Bill Compton walked me to his front door, and I was about to say goodbye, when he halted, just before going for the doorknob. “There is one thing, I wanted to ask you; and seeing as you’ve been so forthcoming with me, on everything else…”. The vampire narrowed his eyes at me. “What?”, I said. “Why did you decide to apply for the position as my day-person?”, he asked. I smiled embarrassedly. “Honestly… I need the money”, I said. “I’ve been hoping to pay down my student loan, but taking up extra shifts down at Merlotte’s just isn’t cutting it”.

“That’s not what I meant”, he said. “You just don’t strike me as the type of person to take a job for a vampire”. He raised an intrigued brow at me. “Not enough fang marks on me?”, I chuckled. The vampire chuckled, and it seemed that if he’d been able to blush, he would have. “You’re offering a good salary for what seems like an easy job; and one that I can do while still staying on with Sam. The fact that you’re a vampire doesn’t really matter to me”. “Why not?”, he asked. “Why should it?”, I retorted. “Some might say it’s dangerous to work for one of us”, the vampire said. “You’re no more likely to hurt me than any other vampire around – or human for that matter”, I said. “Besides; Sookie speaks highly of you, and I trust her”. “Well, she speaks highly of you as well”, he said.

He seemed to think for a moment, before coming to a conclusion. “If you want this job, it’s yours”, he said. My jaw dropped. “Really?”, I asked. The vampire confirmed it with a nod. “Thank you, Bill. You won’t regret it…! One thing, though… Day-person? Can’t we call it… secretary? Or assistant?”. He chuckled warmly as he opened the door for me to leave. “Please come by tomorrow. I’ll have a list for you with some things I need handled”, Bill said, as I went down the steps of the porch. “8 pm?”, I asked. “That sounds perfect”, Bill said. “See you then”. He handed me back the “resumé”, which I’d written on the back of a paper placemat from Merlotte’s. As I took it, I got a slight papercut on my finger. “Shit”, I muttered. Bill smiled slightly. “Would you like me to fetch you a band-aid?”. “Nah…”, I said, and looked at the trickle of blood. “You hungry?”, I teased. “I think Sookie might have a problem with me feeding from a friend”. “Alright”, I shrugged.

I began fishing my car keys out of my bag, and cursed to myself, as they fell from my hand, and landed in the gravel on the ground. I was about to crouch to pick them up; when I felt a gush of wind, and suddenly stood nose to chest with a very tall man. I had to tilt my head back to look him in the eyes. They were bright blue, and had a sharpness to them. “Hello”, he said, a cheery mischievous tone to his voice. “Hi”, I said, and went to pick up my keys again. The man – vampire, I realized – held them out to me, before I even so much as bent over. “Fuck, you’re fast”, I gasped. He put the keys in my outstretched hand, and grabbed my wrist, to look at my bleeding finger. “When I want to be”, he smiled. “Bill, who is this? Introduce us”.

Bill stepped of his porch, and walked warily towards us. “Eric Northman… This is Liv Sunday”. I found it hard to break eye contact with the tall vampire, mostly because he was one of the most handsome people I’d ever met. “Liv”, Eric said. He dragged out the sound of my name, pronouncing it Leev. “Yours…? She smells… pure”. I managed to look away, and turned my gaze to Bills face instead. His jaw was clenched. “My assistant”, Bill repeated, put a hand on my arm, and went to stand half way in front of me. The tall vampire let go of my wrist. “Off limits”. “I’m a big girl, Bill", I said. “I can speak for myself". “Yes, she’s a big girl, Bill", Eric smiled. “Let her speak for herself". I frowned at the tall vampire, and shook my head. “That means you too, Vlad", I said. A grin ghosted his face.

Eric leaned his head forwards, and burrowed his eyes even deeper into mine. “Liv… You’re interesting”, he said. “Please. Tell me more about you”. “Eric!”, Bill growled. “Why have you come?”. “To discuss matters surrounding the conference. It is election year, after all”, the other vampire replied, never taking his eyes off mine. “Now stop interrupting my conversation with… Liv”. The vampire-testosterone was heavy in the air, and I swallowed hard. “Maybe some other time”, I said. “Oh come now…”, Eric smiled, his eyes digging even deeper. I frowned at him. “I said no!”, I sneered. The tall vampire seemed taken aback, and Bills eyes widened. “Ok… I’m just gonna go”, I said.

Bill followed me all the way over to my car, and held the door for me as I climbed in. I opened the window to let some air into the cabin. “Drive safely now”, Bill said. “See you at 8 tomorrow. I’ll give your regards to Sookie”. Eric smiled at me. “It was nice meeting you, Liv”, he said. “Until next time”. His intense gaze made heat pool in my lower stomach, and I had to consciously tell myself to put the key in the ignition.

I drove home to my one-bedroom rental feeling happy that I’d nailed my job interview; and stirred from meeting Eric. I supposed he always had that influence on people; Bill probably just turned his mojo down, because he had Sookie, and didn’t need to impress people in the same way. Bill was the second vampire I’d met that I’d actually spoken to, since they came out of the coffin. Eric was the third, so I didn’t have much to compare him too; but I read magazines as much as the next person.

When I got inside, I took a cold shower; trying to shake the meeting out of my system. Before I climbed into bed, I checked my messages, and saw that Sookie had sent me a text, congratulating me on my new side-gig with Bill. I sent her one back, thanking her for hooking me up with the interview.

Sookie had been a good friend every since I got to town. I’d been down on my luck since leaving San Diego; but Bon Temps had been good to me so far. I had a waitressing job at Merlotte’s, on top of the one I’d just gotten with Bill – taking care of the things he needed done during the daylight – and some good friends in Sookie and Bill; and even my other boss; Sam. I’d even go so far as calling Sookies brother, Jason, a friend – even if he did try getting me into bed with him, whenever he could. I think the fact that I was so fervent in my dismissal of him, made him have some weird kind of respect for me. I was happy – settled, even. The last thing I needed was some blonde hottie trying to get in my pants; it didn���t matter if his name was Jason Stackhouse – or Eric Northman for that matter.

---

I slept in the next day, as my meeting with Bill had been quite late – or should I say, early, as I’d not been home until 3 am. My shift at the bar was a slow one, which was good for Terry, who was having one of his bad days in the kitchen. All 6 hours dragged along in a manner so boring, it was a relief when 7 pm. came along, and Arlene came to take over from me.

Arriving back at the Compton house, I was met in the door by Sookie. “Hey, Liv! Come on in!”, she grinned. “Bill’s in the living room”. “Is it your night off, Sook’?”, I asked. “Uh huh”, she said. “Bill’s taking me to dinner”. We walked into the living room, where Bill was waiting, with a somber look on his face. “Liv… I would like to apologize for Erics behavior last night”, he said. “He didn’t do anything wrong”, I said. “It’s not the first time someone’s flirted with me”. “Eric Northman flirted with you?”, Sookie chuckled. “And you didn’t end up with your legs around his waist?”. I mock scoffed. “I am a lady”, I said. “I tend to throw them around a man’s neck first”. Sookie punched my shoulder. “Slut!”, she grinned.

Bill looked very seriously at the both of us. “This is no laughing matter, ladies. Eric glamoured you!”, he said. I shook my head in confusion. “He didn’t…”, I said. “I saw him… He was using his glamour on you”, Bill repeated fervently. “I really don’t think he did. At least I didn’t feel anything happening”, I tried again.  “Jeez… I worked for you for five minutes; and you’re already acting like my daddy”, I said.

The vampire looked confused, but Sookie broke the tension, by reminding him they had reservations. “You’re right, of course; sweetheart”, Bill said, and took a piece of paper from the coffee-table. “I made this list for you. On the top here is making an appointment with an electrician. I’ve been having some flickering lights in the kitchen. Of course, I don’t use it much, but I do want it working… Then there’s this case of TruBlood O-neg. The all-night supermarket won’t be getting another shipment for at least a week, and I can’t…”. “Honey? We’re late!”, Sookie sighed. “Where are you going?”, I asked. “A place in Shreveport. Ky-auntie”, Sookie smiled. “Chianti”, Bill said. “And you’re right. Let’s go”.

We all left the house, and walked to our respective cars, when I remembered something. “Hold up!”, I called out. I ripped some of the paper from the list, and quickly wrote down my phone number with an eyeliner from my purse. I ran over to Bill with it. “Here. You never got my number. Just in case anything else comes up”, I said. “Thank you”, Bill smiled. “Any big plans for you tonight?”, he asked. “I have a date with my neighbor’s cat. At least I think he belongs to my neighbor. He might be a stray… We eat tuna together on Thursdays”, I sighed. “I thought you were allergic to cats”, Sookie said from inside the BMW. “Our love is complex… and I take pills”, I said. “Go on now. Have fun”.

I waved them off, as they drove away; and got into my own car. It stalled a few times, before finally starting up, and I could drive home – just in time for my date with Mr. Whiskers. He was only mildly annoyed when I came out the back door 3 minutes late, with his bowl. “Sorry I’m late, honey”, I said. “I had a vampire to tend to”. The cat wailed at me, and attacked the tuna like it hadn’t eaten in weeks.

I lit a cigarette, and sat down on the steps, leaning against the screen door, reading a magazine. Some of my neighbors were having a party, and I enjoyed the music coming out of the window. It was a warm night, but not many mosquitos around. I was happy to be left alone from the little bloodsuckers, when my phone vibrated, and I found myself summoned by a large one. - Need you in Shreveport asap. Bill

I frowned at the phone. - I’m your day person. Nights are off limits.

- Fangtasia. Be there in an hour.

- Remind me to ask for a raise BOSS!, I replied; stomped out my smoke, and went back into the house to look up the address of whatever the hell Fangtasia was. Google let me know it was a vampire bar. Dinner must have been over quickly, and Bill had probably taken Sookie for a drink. I looked down at the attire I was currently wearing, and decided that if Bill insisted on being a jerk-boss, I’d be a jerk employee; and show up in cut off shorts, and ABBA t-shirt – that was fifty sizes to big, and hung off my shoulder – hopefully embarrassing him in front of his friends.

I cursed at Bill all the way to Shreveport. “Stupid vampire, ruining my date with Mr. Whiskers”, I muttered to myself, as I parked my rusty car next to a flashy convertible on the parking lot of the bar. There was a line down to the door, going all the way around the corner of the building. A blonde woman with a bored expression on her face stood at the entrance, turning away anyone she didn’t see fit for entry. I sent Bill a text, letting him know I was outside, and had no intention of waiting in line. He’d have to meet me in the lot.

I leaned against my car, kicking at a stray paper cup on the ground, when a cold finger poked my shoulder. I looked up into the face of the blonde woman. She was striking up close. “Liv Sunday?”, she said, sounding as bored as she looked. “Yeah?”, I said. She gave me an insincere smile. “Follow me…”.

She led me to the entrance of the bar, and a burly doorman lifted the red rope for us so we could walk inside. A song with heavy bass was leading some scantily clad dancers on podiums, and the air was heavy with cheap perfume and sexual frustration. The blonde led me to a table, and waved over a black clad waitress. “Order whatever you want on the house. Ginger will sort you out”, she said. The waitress smiled brightly at me. I shook my head. “No, I’m here to meet Bill”, I said confusedly. The woman rolled her eyes, and walked away. I would have given her the finger, if I wasn’t worried, she’d bite it off. “What can I get you?”, the waitress, Ginger, asked. “The most expensive thing you have that isn’t blood”, I sighed. “Long Island Ice Tea, coming right up!”, she grinned, and walked away; tugging at her tiny top as she did.

I took my phone out of my pocket, and saw I had a new text from a number I didn’t know. - Hello Liv. This is Bill Compton. I would like to extend my gratitude to you for accepting the position as my assistant. I’m writing this as Sookie is powdering her nose; as to not interrupt our evening together. Could I please ask you to add to the list, that I need to get in touch with a florist who knows where to get some sunflowers? Sookie likes them. Thank you very much.

I was deeply confused at this point, and not a little worried. If Bill hadn’t been the one to summon me to Fangtasia, then I was currently in a strange bar, surrounded by vampires, without a companion; just sitting around like a delicious crab leg on a buffet table. Sure, there were humans around, but they all seemed more focused on getting the attention of vampires, than helping me out, if needed be. I texted Sookie. - What’s Bills number? I think someone texted me, pretending to be him.

She responded quickly. - Who? Are you ok? Where are you?

I wrote back. - No idea. I’m in some place called Fangtasia.

I was still holding my phone, when Ginger returned with my drink, and set it down. She seemed about to say something to me; when suddenly she bowed reverently. “Master…”, she said, sounding like she was having a strange sort of orgasm.

I looked up, and saw that Eric Northman was standing by the table, with the blonde female vampire next to him. He gave me a slight smile, and sat down across from me; relaxing against the backrest of the chair. “Jag är inte din budbärare, bare för at du vil knulla en liten människa!”. The blonde seemed annoyed, but I didn’t understand her words. “Slapna av, Pam. Det här är annorlunda”, Eric said. “Fika på hende, då. I don’t give a shit. Just don’t ask me again”, she snarled. ”Pamela!”, Eric said firmly. “Leave us”.

“What’s up her ass?”, I muttered. “Pam doesn’t take it up the ass; she gives it”, Eric said matter-of-factly. I narrowed my eyes at him. “You texted me…”, I said. “I did”, Eric said. “Go away, Ginger”. The waitress backed away, her eyes still on the floor. “Master. Yes, master”. I raised my brows. “Wow…”. I met Erics eyes hesitantly. “Why am I here?”. “Because I wanted to see you…”, he said. He dipped a finger into my drink, and licked it. “Don’t drink this. Someone put drugs in it”.

I swallowed hard – a sudden flashback striking me, taking me to a place I didn’t want to go. “Liv?”, Eric said. “What?”, I snapped. The vampire seemed taken aback. “You’re very brave”, he said. “I don’t know what you mean”, I muttered. “Speaking to me like that… and the text you sent me back, when you thought I was Bill. You obviously don’t know a lot about vampires”. I shrugged, trying my best to seem at ease with the conversation.

“How did you get my number?”, I asked; pushing the drink away gingerly. “I’m not listed”. “I flew over Bills house, as you wrote it down”, Eric said. “I have very good eyesight. You used a .01 Ultra Black eyeliner”. “That’s kind of creepy”, I said. “You’re a flying, creepy guy”. Eric laughed heartily, the sound coming from deep within his chest. “You’re funny”, he said. “It’s like you have no sense of self-preservation”. “Well, I figure you didn’t go through all the trouble of flying over Bills house to get my number; just so you could kill me”, I said. “At least… I hope you didn’t”. Eric looked towards the bar, at the tender behind it. “Chow, get her a fresh one. Make sure it’s drug free”, he said, so quietly, I almost didn’t hear it. I realized the bartender must be a vampire as well; that was the only way he’d be able to hear him. “You don’t have to… I’m fine, really”. “It’s no trouble", Eric assured me. “This is my bar after all. It’s in my interest to keep the patrons happy". “I’m not a patron…”, I said.

Eric ignored my words. “Your t-shirt… I like it”, he said. “I’m related to the blonde, you know…”. “You’re Swedish?”, I asked. A fresh drink appeared in front of me, and I looked at it hesitantly. “It’s safe”, Eric said. “Yes, I’m originally from Sweden…”. “So, you were speaking… Swedish, before?”. Eric nodded. “You name, Liv; it’s actually the Swedish word for life”. “Huh…”, I muttered. “I always thought it was kind of geriatric”. Erics eyes lit up with a mischievous glint. “Quite the opposite… It suits you. You seem full of life”. I cleared my throat uncomfortably, and took a sip from the straw. The drink was delicious. “And… when are you from? If you don’t mind me asking”. “Are you asking how old I am?”, Eric smiled. I blushed, and took a second sip. “I am a little over 1000 years old”.

I choked on my drink, and suddenly, Eric was next to me; gently patting my back with one hand, and holding mine with the other. “Are you alright?”, he said worriedly. “Yeah, I’m fine”, I croaked. I looked up into his eyes, and saw true concern. “Really”, I smiled. Eric sat back down on the chair opposite me; still holding on to my hand. His own was cool, but not cold. I guessed he’d recently fed.

I bit my lip. “Are you really 1000 years old?”, I asked in a whisper. “Yes”, Eric confirmed. “I was a Viking”. My eyes widened. “Like with the… pillaging, plundering and… raping?”, I said. Eric smiled smugly. “I didn’t need to rape to bed a woman; or a man for that matter”. “Huh…”, I said; and took a deep sip from my drink. “Well, you do have that tall, blonde and handsome thing going for you”. He ran his thumb over my knuckles. “You find me handsome?”, he said. “Every person in this room finds you handsome”, I retorted; rolling my eyes. I looked towards a nearby table, where a young woman with obviously dyed black hair was starring at us. When her eyes darted towards me, she looked like she wanted to scratch my eyes out.

“Tell me about you…”, Eric said. “Why?”, I asked. “Because it’s only fair”, the viking-vampire said. “In the last ten minutes, I’ve told you my age, occupation, sexual orientation; and I’ve saved you from getting drugged". I was painfully aware that Eric probably had a million different ways of getting what he wanted from me, but for some strange reason, I didn’t think he’d use any of them. Not yet anyway. None the less, I still didn’t see his reason for wanting to know. “I meant, why are you asking?”, I said.

Eric played absentmindedly with my fingers – or maybe not so absentmindedly; as he seemed to know exactly where and how to stroke my fingers in a way, that sent signals straight to my core. "You’re interesting“, he said. “And Bill interrupted me before I could finish my glamour on you, to get you to tell me". I chuckled softly. “You didn’t glamour me", I said. “Of course I did", Eric retorted. “Sorry, but I think you have little too much faith in your own abilities“.

He let go of my hand, and sat back straight in his chair. For a long time, he didn’t speak, just starred at me, before his pupils suddenly dilated, and a tranquil and yet almost flirtatious expression spread over his face. “Liv…”, he said softly. “Tell me; what’s your favorite sexual position?”. My jaw dropped. “That’s absolutely none of your business!”, I growled. Eric looked completely confused, and even paler than his usual pasty shade. He furrowed his brows, and moved his head forwards; almost crouching in his chair, as to reach my eye-level. “You want to tell me, Liv", he said, his voice alluring. Abso-fucking-lutely I wanted to tell him; but not under our current circumstances. As it was, Eric was being completely inappropriate, and I had no intention of continuing our conversation. I stood up. “Thanks for the drink. Now, if you don’t mind, please go to hell".

I walked towards the door, and made it halfway through the crowd, when suddenly, Eric was standing in front of me. He looked almost enraged, and towered over me menacingly; starring into my eyes so hard, I could almost feel it physically. “Liv. You want to tell me about yourself", he boomed. “I want to go home!”, I hissed, trying to pass the imposing vampire. He moved slightly, making me have to brush against his chest with my shoulder. Eric’s hand was suddenly on my upper arm. I froze in place, as he lifted my hair slightly, breathing in my scent. “What are you?”, he asked in a low voice, his cool breath sending annoyingly pleasurable shivers down my spine. I looked up into his eyes again; and jumped a bit, when his fangs popped out. The deepest, darkest part of me wanted to put my finger to one of them, and see how sharp they were.

“Eric!”, Bills voice boomed over the music. Sookie came out from behind him, walked straight up to the 6’4 inches vampire, and hit him over the shoulder with her purse. “Looks like that’s two dates you’ve ruined tonight”, I said. Eric smiled. “But ours was going so well”, he said; his fangs retracting again. “This wasn’t a date…”, I said. “This was you tricking me into meeting you”, I hissed. “You had another date tonight?”, he asked, darkness ghosting his face. I gave him a sarcastic smile, and pulled my arm out of his grasp, stomping out of the club, past Pam. She looked amused at the situation, and stepped back to let me get to the parking lot.

With shaking hands, I opened my car door. Bill and Sookie weren’t far behind me. “I am very sorry, Liv”, Bill said. “Had I known there was a chance Eric would…”. “Forget it, Bill”, I said. “I’ll take care of the things on your list tomorrow. Right now, I just want to go home… I’m sorry I ruined your date”. “It’s not your fault”, Sookie said earnestly. “Do you want us to follow you home in Bills car?”. “No, I’ll be fine… Just, go salvage whatever you can of your night”, I said. I gave Sookie a half hug, and nodded at Bill.

Eric was staring at my car, as I drove away. I saw him exchanging a few words with Pam, before he went back inside Fangtasia.

---

I had the next day off from Merlotte’s, and after I – once again – slept in, I had plenty of time to take care of my errands for Bill. When I got back home from having dropped of a case of O-neg on his porch, I texted him the info of an electrician and a florist who could help him out with his other requirements.

My mail had arrived while I was gone, and as I got ready for a night of serving beer, I looked through the bills and catalogues; finding among them an envelope without sender. Inside was a picture of a young woman in a seductive pose, wearing very little. I recognized myself immediately. It had been taken my last night at my old job at Sugar and Spice – a night I didn’t remember much from, due to a drink I should never have accepted. I almost fell into a kitchen chair, and shuddered. I put my hand to my chest, remembering the wound I’d earned that night.  

He’d found me. I wasn’t surprised. Though my number and address weren’t listed, if Thomas wanted something, he’d get it; he had a way of talking himself in to things. Either that, or he’d use brute force. The thing that made me confused, was the fact that Thomas wasn’t even supposed to remember me. I was supposed to be just another dancer he’d taken pictures of, at the club.

I was startled when my phone suddenly rang. I picked it up, when I saw it was Sam. “Hey…”, I croaked. “Hey, Luce’… I’m really sorry to ask you this, but Coby has the mumps, and Arlene needs to…”. “You need me tonight?”, I asked, almost hopefully. I didn’t want to be alone. “You’d be doing me a big favor…”, Sam said. “I’ll be there”. “Thanks, cher’. I’ll give you tomorrow off instead”, he replied in a relieved voice. “No problem what so ever”, I said. “I’ll be there in a few”. I hung up, and hurried getting ready for work.

Merlotte’s was full of people; which was pretty typical for a Friday night. The tips would be pretty good, and I wouldn’t have to be alone with my thoughts. Sookie handed me a clean apron, and I tied it around my waist, avoiding her gaze. “You seem out of sorts”, she muttered, as I tied up my hair in a bun. “Seem? Or are you listening in…?”, I said. She looked suddenly sad. “I’m sorry, Sookie… It’s been a hard day”. She smiled a little. “I can’t read you as well as I can some other people, you know”, she said. “Whatever comes through, is usually just colors and emotions. But they’re pretty intense, so I try to avoid them”. “Why?”, I asked. “I don’t know”, she shrugged. “It’s just like that with some folks… Makes it easier to be your friend, though”. I squeezed her hand, and walked out to take some orders.

Hoyt and Jason were nursing beers in a corner, and I walked over to check on them. “Everything good here?”. “Much better, now you’re here”, Jason winked. “You know, I saw your car out back. It ain’t looking good. I’d be happy to give you a ride, when you clock out”. “I’m sure you would, but I’m not in the mood for crabs tonight”. Hoyt laughed heartily, and Jason smiled and shook his head. “Any food for you gentlemen?”, I asked. “LaFayette has some gumbo cooking tonight”. “Sounds good. Hoyt?”, Jason said. “Two bowls, then”, Hoyt smiled. “Coming right up”, I said, and took their order to the serving hatch; winking at LaFayette in the kitchen.

For the next few hours, I pushed away all thoughts of possessive men, and focused on earning my wages. Bill stopped by to give Sookie a kiss, and thanked me for my help so far; leaving me another list. “Just some time next week, will be fine”, he said. “You’re welcome to text me, Bill”, I said. “I dislike using the keys to type”, the vampire grumbled. “I prefer the old-fashioned way of writing”. “Did you use a quill?”, I asked, giving him a sly smile. “Just a no. 2 pencil”, he retorted. “And once again; I’m sorry…”. I groaned. “Please, stop… Nothing happened. I’m perfectly fine”.

Sookie gave me a slight look, which Bill caught immediately. “You’re not. What is wrong?”. “Sookie!”, I sighed. “Sorry! You’re pretty much radiating fear, honey”, she said. Bill looked at me earnestly. “I will do my best to keep you safe from Eric”, he said. “I don’t want you to worry about him”. “I’m not scared of Eric… No more than the next person, anyway”, I assured him; and walked towards the bar, to grab a tray of beers. Sookie followed me there. “What, then?”, she asked. I clenched my jaw. “Could you give this to Jane Bodehouse? I’m gonna go take my break”, I said.

I almost ran out the back door, and lit a cigarette. Sam was putting a bag of trash in the container, when I got there. “Everything alright?”, he asked. “Why is everyone asking me that?”, I almost snarled. Sam seemed taken aback. “Sorry… I’m just… It’s been a day”. “We all have those”, Sam said. “You want to talk about it?”. “Not really”, I said.

Sam scratched his head. “How’s it going, working for Bill Compton?”, he asked. “Fine, so far. It’s an easy gig”, I said. “Don’t worry, it won’t get in the way of my work here”. “I know. I just worry about you, is all”, he said. “You’ve had a strange look on your face all night”. I sighed deeply, not wanting to give away too much. “I got word from an old… acquaintance”, I said. “I’d hoped to avoid it”. “Ex?”, Sam muttered. “Not really…”. I swallowed hard. “Sam… If I… If some day I don’t come in to work… It’s not because I’m playing hookie”. “That sounds ominous…”, Sam said. “Just… I like this job. Bon Temps”, I said. “I’m happy here. So, if suddenly, I’m not around… I didn’t just skip town, ok?”. Sam walked up to me, and put a hand on my shoulder. “Liv, talk to me. What’s going on?”. Sookie stuck her head out. “Sam, we need to call Jane’s son again. She’s passed out on the pool table…”. Sam rolled his eyes, and went back inside, leaving me to smoke in peace.

My phone vibrated in my pocket. I had a text; from Eric, of all people. - When can I see you again?

I rolled my eyes. - How do I know you’re not watching me now?

The reply came within seconds. - You don’t. But I’m not. Do you want me to? I decided against replying, and went back inside – chiding myself for indeed wanting that.

When I got back home, I collapsed on my bed fully clothed – but not before having checked to see if all windows and doors were safely closed and locked. Even without A/C, I’d rather sweat than risk someone coming into the house while I slept.

My phone vibrated, and when I saw who was calling, I picked it up. “What?”, I said. “Why haven’t you replied to my messages?”, Eric said. Loud music was thundering in the background. I looked at the screen of my phone, and saw that I had multiple unread texts. “Because I was working. And because I didn’t want to”, I said. That last part was a lie. “What are you wearing?”, he asked. “A leather garter belt, and a top hat”, I sneered. “Really?”. I could hear his smile. “No. Goodnight, Eric”. “Read your messages”, he managed to say, before I hung up.

I more or less had to pry my eyes open to read the messages the vampire had sent me. - I’m not used to have my messages ignored. Well, get used to it, I thought. - I could come by your job. Just say the word. - I want to see you soon. When? At least he was asking, and not telling me. That was a step up from what I was used to. - Please. That one must have hurt. I sent him a message back. - I’ll let you know. And if you insist on texting more than a teenage girl, I’ll reply like one. Ttyl lol rofl xoxo

As soon as I’d dropped my phone on the bed, I smacked my forehead. I’d written xo. That thought kept me awake for hours, and I didn’t fall asleep until the sun was almost up again.

---

As soon as I woke a little after noon, I rushed out to handle Bills errands. He’d given me until the week after, but as I saw the picture sent to me laying on my kitchen table, I didn’t want to spend a moment longer in the house. I even called Sam to ask if he was absolutely sure he didn’t need me at the bar; but he all but told me that if he saw me anywhere near Merlotte’s, he’d throw me over his shoulder, and carry me home, so I could enjoy my day off.

A little after sunset, there was a knock on my door, and I was slightly startled to see Eric on my small porch. I swallowed hard. “What are you doing here?”, I asked. “I was in the neighborhood; and thought I’d save you the trouble of texting me, when you’d be able to see me”, he said. “Besides, I don’t want you driving that rust bucket all the way to Shreveport again. It’s a death-trap”. He looked towards my car, in the driveway. “You can see me now”, I said. “Wonderful”, he said, and once again dug his eyes into mine. “Invite me in”. “No…”, I said. He once again looked confused. “Why can’t I glamor you?”, he asked. “I don’t know… Maybe you’re impotent”. Eric barred his fangs; making me jump slightly. He looked dangerous. “Not nearly”, he said. “You shouldn’t test me”.

Not wanting him to think he’d scared me too much, I took a hesitant step out of the door, putting less than a foot between us. Eric smelled like nothing I’d ever encountered before. It was crisp, and yet warm; like expensive aftershave and salt water, with an undertone of something I couldn’t define – something musky.

“I don’t understand why you keep wanting to talk to me”, I said. “I get it, I’m human. Blood and sex, and all that… But you have a club full of willing participants to whatever it is you wanna do”. Eric nodded. “I know. It’s infuriating that I feel the need to be here”, he said. “But I think I found a fix for it”. “Oh?”, I croaked, doing my best to ignore the fact that a man, that looked more or less like a GQ model, was currently reaching out his hand to stroke my cheek. As his fingertips touched my skin, my breath hitched. “Yes. See, when I have sex with a human, I usually bore with them pretty quickly”, Eric said. “I thought we should just get it over with, so I can move on”. I took a step back, and my back hit the screen door. “I don’t want to have sex with you!”, I lied. “Of course you do. I’m a very good lover”, Eric smiled. “Now, invite me in, and I’ll undress you”. “Shove it up your ass!”, I said. Eric raised a brow at me. “Well, it’s been a while, but I’m up for it if you are”.

I scrambled to open the screen door, and get back inside the house. My body was screaming at me to give in to the sensation in my lower belly, but I told myself that I had to persist. “You should… go now”, I said. Eric stepped closer to me, and I felt his firm chest against my back. “Why?”, he asked, sounding genuinely confused again. “You’re… imposing”, I croaked, and turned to meet his eyes. They were piercing mine, sending tingles down my spine. “Stop trying to glamour me” “I’m not. It doesn’t seem to work on you”, he said; a hint of regret in his voice. “Though I wonder… would you let me test a theory?”. “What theory?”. Eric smiled. “Just humor me. Pam?”.

I nearly jumped out of my skin, when the blonde female vampire suddenly stood next to Eric; and hurried over the threshold, so neither of them could reach me. “What the hell?”, I said. “Yeah, Eric. What the hell? I’ve been waiting behind that tree forever. In my new Jimmy Choo’s”, Pam said. “Be nice, Pam”, Eric said. Pam drew her lips back in an insincere smile. “Hello, Liv. I am very glad to see you”, she said. “Happy?”. She looked out the corner of her eyes at Eric.

Eric gave her a look, and something unspoken passed between them. Pam seemed to shrink in front of me. “Liv, I would like you to let Pam try to glamour you”, he said. “What? No!”, I exclaimed. “I want to know if it’s…”. “Just you?”, I said. For the first time, Eric wouldn’t meet my eyes. I took a deep breath. “Fine. But I’m not coming outside”. Eric nodded. “Pam, try to glamour her. But don’t ask her to come outside where we can reach her”. He was trying to make me feel safe – it was almost endearing.

Pam took a step forward, and looked deep into my eyes. Her voice was soothing. “Liv… You want to invite Eric inside. You want to have sex with him”. I shook my head. “No… Not happening”, I said. She narrowed her eyes in confusion. “You… want to invite me inside… Have sex with me”. “No thank you”, I snarled. Pam stepped back, and began laughing. “What the actual fuck?”, she guffawed. “What are you?”. Eric stepped in between us, his back to me. “Thank you, Pamela. You can leave now”, he said. “Eric! She’s…”, Pam began. “Now!”, Eric growled. She disappeared as fast as she’d come.

Eric stood there for a moment, not turning to face me. I was about to close the door, when he spoke again. “I’m making you mine… And getting you a better car”. “The hell, you are", I sputtered. He spun around with wide eyes. “You’re saying… no?”, he asked bemusedly. “I’m not anyone’s; let alone yours”. Eric chuckled at me. “I just claimed you”. “Well you can shove that claim up your ass, as well”, I proclaimed. “You wanted me to tell you about myself”, I said. He didn’t respond, simply stood still and never diverted his eyes from mine. “I left San Diego to get away from a guy who couldn’t take no for an answer… I’m not about to throw myself into the arms of another one who does the same”, I said. “This… guy”, Eric said. “Did he hurt you?”. There was an angry edge to his voice. I looked down, and crossed my arms in front of me. “He did… It’s over. But only because I ran away”, I said. “He… It doesn’t matter. I just don’t want that again”.

For a long moment, he just looked at me; making me swallow to wet my dry mouth. “Alright”, he finally said calmly. “Are we finished?”, I asked, almost in a whisper. “We’re finished”, he said. “For now”. Eric lowered his head, looking earnestly at me. “As long as you say no to me, I won’t do anything”, he said. “I will not force myself on you, Liv”. “Why?”, I asked, genuinely surprised. “Do you want me to? I don’t mind playing games…”, Eric smiled. I shook my head. “Never mind. I thought we were having a moment here, but it’s gone”. I went to close the door in his face. “Liv!”, Eric said; his voice imposing. I halted, and looked at him again. “I don’t know why… But I will not”.

He turned around, and walked down the steps from my small porch. I took a deep breath, before running after him. He heard me coming, and turned around. “Thank you… For at least kind of taking no for an answer”, I said. I tugged at his jacket, to get him to lower his head, and I got on my toes; placing a kiss on his cheek. Once again, I was surprised to find his skin not icy, but simply cool; and I let my lips linger for a moment.

I was about to turn back, when Eric put both his hands on my shoulders, and looked me square in the face. I could tell he wasn’t trying to glamour me. “Be mine”, he said. My breath hitched, and everything in me screamed say yes!. “N-no, Eric… No, I can’t do that”. Eric looked as if I’d slapped him. My phone vibrated, and I took it from my pocket, looking at the screen. “It’s Bill… I have to take this".

Erics face dropped, and he let go of me. “Goodnight, sunshine”, he said, and walked away into the darkness. “Eric!”, I called after him. “I regret picking up your keys for you”, Eric replied, his back still to me. “I would have loved to see you bend over”.

---

[night-fallz]

Jason Todd x Avengers Crossover

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Ao3 // Wattpad

previous II next

Unexpected (part 2)

Two days have passed since Clint was saved by Jason. And for some reason, he still can't get the vigilante out of his mind.

Natasha teased him about it but he knows that if she sees Jason in action, she would be intrigued as well.

The way he fought was mesmerizing. Every bullet that was shot was so precisely aimed that the wounds weren't deadly.

Sure it knocked them out, but they weren't gonna die.

That form of marksmanship was only earned through years of hard work. And Clint's worked with Bucky enough times to know that Jason somehow predicted the next move of the attackers, aiming at the non-lethal body parts.

He has a feeling that Bucky and Jason would make an incredible duo.

Which is why he needs them to meet.

Clint doesn't usually do this but the more he thought about the bucket-wearing vigilante, the higher his list of questions got.

He took out his phone, leaning against the couch as he searched for the man that saved him.

vigilante wearing red bucket

He scrolled through google trying to find a decent article on the guy.

After thirty whole minutes of barely finding information, Clint wanted to throw his phone across the room. So far, all he's figured out was that Jason's territory was in Gotham and that his vigilante name is 'Red Hood'.

Which was... creative in a way?

At least it wasn't 'Red Bucket' or 'Bucket Head' or anything like that. It was definitely better than 'Green Arrow'.

After another failed search, he decided to finally give up. There was nothing about Red Hood. All the articles were mainly about Batman, Nightwing, a restaurant place, and a Robin!

He groaned and put his face in his hands. He doesn't care about those overrated heroes, he wants to find out more about Red Hood.

The guy was so cool... he wonders why there were barely any pieces written about him. The few sentences that he's read about the vigilante almost always depicted him in a bad light.

Which was honestly unfair.

He stared at his phone, contemplating on whether or not he should ask Natasha.

On the positive side, he knows that the assassin would have information on Red Hood. Natasha has information on everyone.

But...

Clint didn't want Natasha to tease him even more! If she keeps up with the sarcastic comments then the other Avengers would be curious. And curious Avengers meant nosy people.

He felt himself shiver, really nosy people.

He swears that if he had a sister— older or younger, they would act exactly like how Natasha was acting right now.

He could practically imagine the smirk she was wearing on her face when she picked up.

"Hey, Clint." she casually greeted, "How are you?"

He refrained from gritting his teeth, "I'm doing good." he paused, eyes closing as he took a breath in, this hurt to admit. "I need your help."

"I know."

"What do you know about the Red Hood?"

"The Red Hood?" she hummed under her breath, "Let's see."

Clint heard her moving things around, then he could distinctly hear the noise of paper being flipped. "Do you just have documents of random vigilantes lying around your room?" he couldn't help but ask. "Is this an assassin thing?"

Does Bucky do this too?

"I'm getting you the information you need." she reminded, "How I keep track of the data I have is none of your business."

"Okay, okay." he surrendered, a smile making its way onto his face. "But why don't you just keep it on a computer? Wouldn't that make things easier for you?"

She ignored his question, "Red Hood is an excellent marksman," she stated. "He made his debut as a crime lord by showing a bunch of people a duffel bag filled with the heads of notorious criminals."

Clint let out a whistle, "That is an intense introduction. He's even better than I thought he would be."

"Yeah," Natasha agreed. "He's easily one of the most dangerous and capable vigilantes in Gotham. In a matter of months, he's managed to bring crime down Crime Alley by at least fifty percent. Something that Batman himself, couldn't do. His methods were vicious, but they worked. Extremely well. He's killed a lot of child molesters, human traffickers, and rapists."

Even though Natasha couldn't see him, he tilted his head to the side, biting the inside of his cheek. Clint could care less about what methods Jason used. If they worked, they worked. And it's not like those criminals didn't deserve it. It's just-

Killing takes a lot out of you. Especially when you're young. Clint would know.

He had no doubt in his head that Jason was an incredible fighter. Not to mention that he was also huge— in both height and muscle.

He can see why he has a majority of Gotham fooled.

But, for about a minute, after they won against the ninjas, Jason removed his helmet in order to get a breath of fresh air.

A mask might've been covering his eyes, but Clint's been in the vigilante business for years now. He remembers clear as day, just how young the vigilante looked under the sun.

When Clint first started, he was thankful that he had Natasha to talk to whenever things got hard. Whenever he felt guilty for taking someone's life. No matter how much they deserved it.

Hell, he's still thankful for Natasha now. Without her, Clint would probably be dead. His body found bleeding out in an abandoned area, a neat row of scars on his thighs and arms.

He hopes that Jason has a friend like Natasha. Someone who'd be there for him no matter what. Someone who'd remind him that he was worth it. That he was loved.

Cause if not, then there is no way that the kid is okay.

Natasha's sharp voice interrupted his thoughts, "That was a few years ago. As far as I know, he doesn't kill anymore. The farthest that Hood would go now would be to permanently cripple someone. And even then, he would only do that when the person did something unforgivable."

After a few seconds of silence, Clint opened his mouth. "Is that it?" he couldn't help but question.

"Nope," Natasha admitted. "But it's all I'm willing to tell you."

"Fine then," he smirked. "Keep your assassiny secrets. I got more than I expected anyways."

"What did you get yourself into, Clint? Why all the sudden interest in him? Why all the sudden interest in a vigilante in Gotham?"

He knows that Natasha was just looking out for him. She was worried. "Do you remember a few days ago when I was saved by this Jason guy?" he asked.

"Yeah? You've been talking about him nonstop. He saved your ass and you gave him your number." she paused before adding, "Your private one."

He nodded, "Yeah. Well, he's the Red Hood."

"You're kidding."

"Nope. I searched him up and he had the same costume and everything."

"And he actually said that his name was Jason?"

"Yep." he tried to casually say, "It's probably cause Jason's a popular name and stuff."

"Maybe." Natasha hesitantly agreed, "But anyway, since you gave him your number, I think you should know that I've always wanted to meet him so if he texts you soon..."

Her voice trailed off and Clint couldn't hold in his sigh, "Yeah, yeah. I'll arrange a meet-up or whatever."

Her voice automatically brightened, "Actually?"

The corner of his mouth lifted, "Sure. But I wanted to introduce him to Bucky first."

Natasha made a shocked sound of betrayal, "Wha- but Clint!" she whined, "I'm the one who's asking. Not him."

"I know."

It took everything in him to stop the laugh from escaping his mouth.

Complaints about how unfair Clint was being made their way onto his ears and he relished each and every one of them. It wasn't often that he had something Natasha wanted.

Revenge was sweet.

After a few minutes, he let out an incredibly fake gasp. "Sorry, Natasha. I gotta go. I have a kitchen emergency."

"What the fuck, Clint." she demanded, "You don't even know how to cook. Remember the omelet incident? What emerg-"

He hung up.

Clint's definitely going to regret ending the call later. He knows it.

But right now, he could care less.

He has something Natasha wants, so she won't murder him.

... hopefully.

He hopes that he runs into the vigilante soon. Jason was cool and pretty fun to talk to. Clint definitely won't mind fighting at Red Hood's side once more.

They worked really well together.

While they were fighting, he knew that Jason was gonna have his back. He knew that Jason wasn't gonna let him get hurt. It was weird, considering that was the first encounter he's ever had with him.

He doesn't know when Jason is gonna decide to use his number, but he hopes that it'll be soon.

He has questions. And whenever Jason was ready, Clint hopes that he can answer.

Starting with the one that's been clouding his head; why did the Red Hood stop killing?

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notes:

okay, I didn’t expect to write a chapter this soon. but reading all the comments you guys left on the previous chapter motivated me. to be honest, I didn’t expect this fanfic to get as many hits as it did.

I don’t know when I’m planning on posting this chapter but right now, my goal is to write as much as I can.

I also don’t know exactly how busy my sophomore year of high school will be, but I feel like it’s better to be safe than sorry. Especially if I make the school volleyball team.

I finished writing this chapter on August 8th, and I have tryouts on the 9th through the 11th from 4-6 pm. (wish me luck!)

like always, please, please, please, leave a comment. i love reading them and they just motivate me so much! Whenever I get author’s block, I just re-read them and they help so, so much. If you don’t wanna leave a comment, that’s fine. If you liked this fanfic, please hit that kudos button though.

and if you just wanna chat or if you want to request any ideas or prompts, just message me here.

ooh, and if there’s anything specific you want to read in this series, please tell me. It never hurts to have any extra ideas. plus, I really want to make this fic more enjoyable for everyone.