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yannawayne · 5 months ago

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vii. what's up danger?

SYNOPSIS: "Alright, let's do this one last time. My name is Y/N Kyle. I was bitten by a radioactive spider, And I've been the one and only Spidey in Gotham. I’m pretty sure you know the rest." PAIRING: Older! Damian Wayne/Fem! Reader TAGS: Established relationship, Wounds, Violence, Surgical procedures, Panic Attacks, Mentions of overdosing, Pills, Non-sexual intimacy, Mentions of death AO3: yenwayne SERIES LINK: gotham's only spidey

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The blood drained from Damian’s face, leaving him ashen and hollow. The horrifying truth sank in—you thought he was going to kill you. And he had nearly done it.

“No... no, no, no...” The words tumbled from Damian in a panicked whisper.

He dropped to his knees beside you, reaching out with trembling hands, but hesitating, afraid to touch you and cause more harm.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, guilt choking his voice. His fingers hovered near your skin, close enough to feel your warmth but hesitant to make contact.

“My sweet girl, you’re safe with me.”

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DANGER.

Instinct screamed louder than thought, flooding your veins with raw, primal fear—a visceral, choking terror that clawed at your chest.

Panic clawed its way up your spine, gripping your heart in a vice, as if every nerve in your body had been doused in ice. The sound that followed, the sickening lurch in your stomach, and suddenly, you couldn’t breathe—

The blade pressed closer, its cold edge grazing your skin. White slits, the only features visible on Robin’s shadowed face, stared down at you from behind the blur of your vision. The edge of a rain-soaked cape trailed down, droplets mingling with the blood pooling on the floor.

You couldn’t breathe. You were staring up at your own death, and you couldn’t breathe.

“Don’t—”

With a breath that felt like a desperate gasp for air, you crawled away from the blade, pleading for your life in ragged, broken whispers.

Each inch you moved felt like wading through water, the crushing weight of fear dragging you down. Your helmet had long since uncloaked, and the remnants of your damaged suit clung to you, cracked and broken. Some pieces of the shattered armor lay scattered around.

That white gaze slithered over the spider emblem on your chest piece, coiled around it, heavy with unspoken realization, before slowly unwinding to meet yours.

“Habibti?”

For a moment, everything seemed to stop.

“It was you?” Damian’s voice was barely a whisper, laced with horror and disbelief.

But then his expression shifted, confusion and hurt twisting into something darker. His brows furrowed, and his mouth set into a hard line.

"Why did you hide this from me?" Damian growled, voice rough as if dragged over gravel. His teeth ground together with a harsh, grating sound. As he advanced toward you, his hands shook, the katana gripped tightly in his trembling fingers. His knuckles were white with the strain.

“Why didn’t you trust me?!”

Your head spun, confusion and fear intertwining—what was he talking about? You couldn’t—didn’t—understand.

Damian’s boot came down on your chest, the impact forcing a violent flinch from you.

“Stop—” you croaked, your fingers digging desperately into the worn leather and scuffed rubber of his shoes. “What—what’s this about? I—I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but don’t—don’t you dare lay a hand on me!”

Damian hesitated for a fraction of a second, but his anger remained tightly coiled, ready to snap.

With a choked, anguished apology, you swung with all your remaining strength. The punch connected with Damian's jaw, making him stumble back, momentarily stunned.

Seizing the moment, you scrambled to get away, but Damian was faster. He surged forward, his katana slicing through the air in a swift diagonal arc. The blade narrowly missed your shoulder as you ducked, its sharp edge whistling past.

“Ngh!” you grunted, hitting the ground hard on your chest. Your breath caught in your throat as you looked up, seeing Damian's sword raised again. Panic surged through you, and you curled into yourself, bracing for the next strike.

DANGER!

Heaving, Damian held the sword up, his breath coming in ragged bursts. Anger consumed him, his entire being trembling with the force of it. But amid the storm of rage, flashes of clarity began to pierce through the haze. He saw the fear in your eyes, the way you shrank away from him.

The katana slipped from his grip and clattered to the floor with a cold, final sound.

CLANK.

The fury that had burned so fiercely began to crack, replaced by dawning horror. Damian stumbled back, eyes wide, chest heaving. What was he doing?

“Fuck,” he rasped, his voice cracking as he knelt before you, reaching out with trembling hands. But you recoiled, pressing yourself against the floor, the fear too fresh, too consuming.

“Please, don’t,” you gasped, voice shaking. “I’m not—please, just don’t... I’m begging you—”

The blood drained from Damian’s face, leaving him ashen and hollow. The horrifying truth sank in—you thought he was going to kill you. And he had nearly done it.

“No... no, no, no...” The words tumbled from Damian in a panicked whisper.

He dropped to his knees beside you, reaching out with trembling hands, but hesitating, afraid to touch you and cause more harm.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, guilt choking his voice. His fingers hovered near your skin, close enough to feel your warmth but hesitant to make contact.

“My sweet girl, you’re safe with me,” Damian whispered, his voice trembling. He pressed the emergency button on his watch, and an urgent alert blared out, sending a distress signal to the nearest Bat-vigilante.

You wanted to respond, to reach out, to say something. But the panic had you in a vice grip, squeezing your throat and chest, rendering you mute.

“Habibti, you need to breathe,” Damian urged gently.

You shook your head, the motion making the pain flare up again.

“I—” you choked, “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” he insisted.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block out the pain, but it only seemed to make it worse. The fear clawed at your chest, leaving you gasping.

“It hurts,” you whimpered, every breath a battle.

“I know it does, but you have to breathe. Breathe with me.”

Damian’s hands numbed as he started to assess your injuries, pushing down his rising panic to focus on the task at hand.

He gently tilted your head, inspecting the gash on your brow. Blood smeared across your face, and the cut was deep—likely requiring stitches. He checked your pupils by shining a small flashlight from his utility belt into your eyes to assess for a concussion. Thankfully, none.

When you shifted and winced in pain, Damian’s attention fell on your leg. He carefully palpated around your ankle, noting the swelling and deformity.

“Broken,” he murmured.

The tense moment shattered with a metallic clang and the sharp sound of a grappling hook. Damian looked up to see Nightwing’s silhouette framed by the window. Dick’s face turned grim as he took in the scene, his eyes locking onto Damian’s with a look of horror.

“No time for explanations,” Damian said, lifting you from the ground. “We need to get her to the Cave—now.”

“No...” you murmured weakly, your voice barely more than a whisper. Both men turned to you, concern etched deeply into their brows as you struggled to keep your eyes open. Your head lolled back, and the darkness around you seemed to thicken, fueled by the poison coursing through your veins. “The Batcave... it’s too far...”

“Then we’ll bring the supplies here,” Damian grit out. He tightened his grip on you, trying to make you as comfortable as possible. “I’m not letting you go. Not now.”

The conversation between Nightwing and Damian became a muted blur. You felt yourself being carefully lowered onto the couch, strong arms guiding you down. A hand threaded into yours with a reassuring grip.

You took a few deep breaths, trying to muster the strength to reach for the comm link in your ear. Your hand trembled as you raised it, fingers just closing around the device when the door burst open. Morgan stumbled in, breathless and disheveled, clutching a bag tightly in her hand.

Your eyes locked onto hers, and she let out a sigh of relief. “Y/N.”

The moment she spoke your name, Damian paused.

The warmth in his eyes slowly hardened, replaced by a chilling coldness.

In a heartbeat, he was across the room, moving with terrifying speed. He grabbed Morgan and slammed her against the wall with such force that the impact stole the breath from her lungs.

“Damian! Wait—” you winced, trying to lift yourself off the couch, but Dick was quicker, gently but firmly pushing you back down.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Damian snarled. The words dripped from his lips like venom as he rammed his forearm against Morgan’s ribs. “You shouldn’t be—”

“Holy shit,” Morgan sputtered, cutting him off with a heave. “Did—Did she just say Damian? You’re Robin?”

Damian’s arm pushed harder, his anger unabated.

“Answer me,” Damian snapped. The white slits in his mask glared at her like twin spots of ice. “You’ll explain what you’re doing here before I ensure you regret ever stepping foot in this place.”

“What the hell, dude?” Morgan shot back, pushing against his arm. “What’s your problem? I’m here trying to help!”

Damian’s grip tightened, suspicion deepening. “Help? How did you even find us?”

Morgan met his gaze without flinching. “I followed the signal from her comm link. I’m not here to mess with you, Batboy. And I sure as hell don’t have time for this bullshit! She’s seconds away from dying from poisoning!”

The word struck Damian like a physical blow. His shoulders stiffened, then faltered slightly, revealing a flicker of genuine panic. “Poison?”

Morgan rolled her eyes, exasperation lacing her voice. “Yes, genius. That’s what I said. Now, unless you want her to die on your watch, you need to get the hell out of my way and let me work.”

Damian staggered back, momentarily off-balance as Morgan forcefully shoved him aside. Without missing a beat, she moved to your side, setting her bag on the floor and beginning to unpack multiple bottles and syringes.

“Hey,” she said, glancing at you with a frown. “How’s it going so far?”

“Trying not to die,” you croaked.

“Well, try to hold on a bit longer. I haven't even started saving your ass yet.”

Damian and Dick hovered nearby, their eyes following every movement as Morgan set to work.

Her fingers moved quickly as she wiped down your arm with a sterile antiseptic, the scent of alcohol wafting up your nose.

“This is a batch I made following the journal I found,” Morgan explained. She drew a syringe filled with the antidote, the liquid swirling inside. As she gently pierced the needle into your arm, you felt a brief, sharp sting followed by a wave of coldness spreading from the injection site.

Gradually, the haze of disorientation and the crushing weight of nausea began to lift. The world around you came into sharper focus, and a soothing numbness slowly spread through your limbs.

“Stay with me,” Morgan said, tapping your cheek. “Need some painkillers?”

You nodded weakly, struggling to grasp the sudden clarity returning to you. The pain was still present but had dulled.

“Please,” you said, holding out a hand. “I think... I think the toxin’s affecting my healing.”

Morgan reached into her bag and pulled out a bottle of fentanyl, dropping it into your hand. Clutching it tightly, you fumbled with the bottle of pills, your hands trembling.

Twisting the cap off, you quickly poured a handful of tablets into your mouth. The sharp, bitter taste assaulted your tongue, making you grimace as it spread across the inside of your cheeks.

Both Dick and Damian reacted with strangled shouts.

“Stop!” Damian snapped. He lunged forward, his hands clamping onto your wrists in a desperate, vice-like grip. The pill bottle slipped from your grasp as Damian hurled it away, sending the remaining pills scattering across the floors. “What the hell are you doing?!”

You tried to speak, but the words were lost in a hacking cough that wracked your body. Dick’s face turned ghostly pale as he scrambled to pull some of the pills from your mouth, his hands shaking as he dropped them to the floor.

“How many did she take?” Dick demanded, his voice trembling as he grabbed the pill bottle and frantically scanned the label. His eyes widened as he read the text, shifting from confusion to horror. “Holy shit! I think I counted ten! That’s way over the safe dose!”

You and Morgan shared a glance, disbelief written all over your faces.

“That’s far from her limit!” Morgan spoke up. “She needs more, not less! The dosage for her is higher.”

Damian’s face flushed an alarming shade of red, his anger boiling over. A rapid stream of Arabic curses burst from him before he switched back to English with a snarl. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing? Just pumping her full of drugs and hoping for the best?!”

Damian swatted the syringe Morgan tried to bring closer, snapping, “Your incompetence makes it a miracle she’s still alive!”

“Don’t lecture me, you oversized Boy Scout! She’s not a regular patient. You don’t get the dosage she needs. She’s not like you—” Morgan cut herself off, and shakes her head with a frustrated groan. “Look! Either you help or you get out of my way!”

Damian’s hands twitched at his sides, his fingers trailing dangerously close to the blade strapped to his utility belt.

Cursing under your breath, you reached out, your hand grasping his wrist.

“Dames, it’s fine,” you whispered, your fingers resting on his pulse point, feeling the rapid thrum beneath your touch. “Let Morgan do her job.”

“Beloved,” he glowered. “I will not allow this—”

“I’m a meta,” you cut him off.

A meta. You’d never said it out loud before—not like this, not even with Selina or Morgan. The word felt alien, a part of yourself you couldn’t quite embrace or accept, even within your own mind. It was as if naming it made it all too real, too undeniable.

The argument that had just moments ago filled the space with heated voices and frantic movement came to a halt.

The apologetic look Morgan sent your way stung, intensifying the ache in your chest. She had known, of course—known what you were and had still stuck by your side.

That meant something, didn’t it? That maybe not everyone would see you as a threat. But Morgan wasn’t Batman. She wasn’t the one who held the city’s safety in his hands, who made decisions that could alter lives in the blink of an eye.

"Fuck." Dick heaved a sigh and began to pace the room, a tense set in his shoulders. Damian’s face twisted into something unreadable as he stared at you.

Meta. The word bounced around in his head.

Raised in a world of absolutes—right and wrong, justice and vengeance, friend and foe—Damian had little experience with gray areas.

Metas had always been... complicated. Potential threats, variables that couldn’t be controlled. And now you, the person he cared for most, were one of them.

'What would Father say?' Damian thought as he edged closer, his movements hesitant, as he extended the pill bottle to you. His fingers trembled over the label as you took it, swallowing the remaining pills.

Batman’s code was clear—protect the city, maintain control, and apprehend threats. If Batman found out—no, when Batman found out—what would Damian do? If Batman decided you were dangerous…

Damian knelt beside you, his breath shaky. Without a word, he tipped his head against your side, his forehead brushing your ribcage.

With the human barrier out of the way, Morgan resumed her work, administering the dose. The sting of the syringe was a distant sensation, barely registering through the fog in your mind.

“So...” Morgan murmured, the words heavy like syrup and lathered with forced lightness as she finished administering the tenth and final dose. “You guys into birds or something?”

You managed a small, tired smile and nudged her shoulder.

Damian lifted his head, meeting Morgan's gaze with a blank, white stare.

“What?" Morgan frowned. “You two show up with bird costumes and expect me not to ask questions? I need to know if this is some sort of family tradition."

The tension in the room began to ease, the atmosphere shifting from the intense panic of moments ago to something almost resembling normalcy—as normal as two vigilantes and one spider person could get.

You took a deep breath and slowly sat up, despite the weariness pulling at your limbs. Damian immediately moved to stop you, but you waved him off with a tired sigh.

“I’m fine,” you insisted. “Fast healing.”

Your eyes scanned the wreckage of the room, taking in the damage. The shattered window was a jagged lattice of sharp edges, with fragments scattered across the floor like deadly confetti.

“Mom’s gonna kill me,” you muttered, the weight of it all finally hitting you.

“Let’s focus on getting you back on your feet first,” Morgan said, shrugging. “The window can wait. Plus, I’m pretty sure we can come up with a good excuse. Maybe blame it on a freak bird accident?”

You glanced at the two men in the room.

“Oh, it’s definitely a bird accident,” you quipped, the double meaning not lost on them.

Morgan rolled her eyes playfully, though her gaze softened with genuine concern. She moved toward a nearby closet, retrieving a broom and dustpan. “I’ll, uh... start cleaning up.”

The room fell into a quiet, contemplative silence. Dick stood there for a long moment, his eyes lost in thought. When he finally spoke, his voice was thick with an emotion that was hard to pinpoint, his gaze flicking between you and Damian.

“So...” he began, the word hanging in the air. “What happened?”

Damian seemed to collapse inward, his shoulders curling as guilt bubbled up within him. He grumbled softly, moving to slip off his domino mask. As it came away, vibrant forests met your gaze with smudged black eye paint still clinging to his lids.

Turning away, you sighed and ruffled your tangled hair, finding the motion oddly comforting. The persistent itching in your ankle and ribs was a constant reminder that your healing factor was still at work, not yet finished mending the damage from your earlier crashes.

"A lot," you replied, biting your lip as you addressed Damian. "Why did you...? I... I thought you were coming after me because of, uh, what I’ve been doing at Ivy's, but... I just don’t understand. Why? Why did you—"

Damian's head whips up, his jade eyes blazing. "What? I—You never told me you were a vigilante."

You blink at him, stupefied. "I did! I told you the night of the dinner!"

Damian’s eyes widen in disbelief.

“No, you didn’t. You mentioned—” He stumbles over his words. “You only said you were—” His voice trails off as his expression turns grave. His lips press into a thin line, realization washing over him.

“Oh.” The single word is barely audible.

“You—” he stammers, his mouth opening and closing as if he’s trying to find the right words but failing. “I— I can’t believe this.”

Beet-red, he shakes his head vigorously, trying to dislodge the weight of his own mistake.

“It’s my fault. I misunderstood. I didn’t realize...” As he trails off, his face flushes a deeper shade of red, blotchy patches spreading across his cheeks and forehead. He’s clearly mortified, his eyes cast downward as if he could sink into the floor to escape this.

“What?” you sputter, completely bewildered.

Damian groans, burying his face into his knees. “I thought you were being hunted down...”

You jump in surprise and let out a soft scoff, placing a soothing hand on the back of his head and gently running your fingers through the scrape of his undercut. “Damian, seriously? You thought I was being hunted by my own... what, my secret identity?”

He nods against the kevlar of his suit, voice muffled and strained. “I thought... you were in danger. I didn’t realize— I didn’t make the connection.”

Dick, watching this whole exchange, finally lets out a huff and nods. “We all thought you were in danger. Guess we jumped the gun a bit. We were convinced you were being targeted by some rogue vigilante. Not exactly our finest hour.”

You turn to Dick with a weak, unintelligible croak. “And what, you didn’t think to double-check?”

“I am aware of how ridiculous we look right now.”

You wince as you lift your fingers to your temple, massaging it gently. Peering down at Damian through your lashes, you glare. “Ugh. You know... you threw me against the floor pretty hard...”

“I did not mean to hurt you,” Damian seethes, mouth dry and throat tight with regret. “But please, help me understand. What’s really going on?”

“You didn’t exactly make it easy to talk when you slammed me into the ground,” you mumble, tone edging toward petulant. “Hard to spill your guts when you’re worried about them actually spilling out, you know?”

You know you’re being a bit petty, but after everything, it feels justified. The pain throbbing in your temple only fuels your irritation, so you rub it harder, hoping you can massage away the ache.

Damian’s eyes flash with hurt, and you instantly taste bitterness in your mouth, regret gnawing at your conscience.

“Sorry,” you mumble, trying to soften the blow. “Okay, let’s go over everything, yeah?”

You start to strip off whatever was left of your armor, the pieces clattering to the floor with a dull thud. Rolling up the sleeves of your undershirt, you extend your arms, revealing the small dots on your wrists.

“I got bitten by a radioactive spider,” you begin. “Trained for a while. Months, actually. Been Spidey ever since. Lately, the media’s been calling me Nightcrawler. I’ve been stopping muggings, robberies, saving Morgan—twice, by the way. She saved me after I got shot. Then blackmailed me into letting her be my ‘guy in the chair. Then I infiltrated a shipment tied to Black Mask. Morgan built me this new suit. I got interviewed while lifting a helicopter with one hand, and... yeah, I ended up getting velocity edits on TikTok. Then, we hit up Poison Ivy’s old warehouse tonight, and Damian tried to hunt me down. And... here we are.”

Damian stares at you, his expression unreadable. Dick remains frozen, caught off guard. Morgan shifts awkwardly, reaching into her pocket and slowly pulling out her phone, waving it in the air.

“Do you guys want to see the edits?”

You shoot her a withering look.

“Shut up,” you groan, throwing a piece of your armor at her.

Morgan ducks, her phone clattering to the floor. Pouting, she picks it up with a scoff. “Alright, alright. I get it.”

She shoves the phone back into her pocket with a huff. “No more distractions.”

“So…” Dick crosses his arms. “You’ve been doing this alone? All this time?”

“Not alone,” you clarify, glancing at Morgan. “Morgan’s been helping me. Keeping me sane. And... I’ve had Selina’s guidance.”

“And good thing too,” Morgan adds, her voice taking on a more serious note. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a small, sleek device—a handheld scanner designed to detect injuries.

You straighten up, already familiar with the drill. Morgan’s device emits a soft, rhythmic beep as she runs it over your body, her eyes flicking to the screen.

PEPPER’s voice begins to speak, calm and clinical. “Regenerative healing is in progress. The antidote is fully effective, expected to take effect in about 30 minutes. Current injuries: broken ribs, fractured ankle, head gash, deep abrasions, and internal bruising. Estimated healing time: 7 hours. A bath is recommended for disinfection.”

Morgan, visibly relieved by the update, lets out a sigh of relief. She ruffles her hair, shutting off the device with a satisfying click. Her gaze sweeps over the room, trying to gauge the mood.

“Well,” Morgan says, trying to sound upbeat despite the circumstances, “you heard her.”

You shuffle across the room, your movements slow and deliberate. The bloodstains have been cleaned up, and the glass shards are gone, but the broken window still stands open, letting in a draft that makes you shiver. You can't help but think about how you'll explain this mess to Selina later—if she doesn’t kill you first.

"You guys should head out," you murmur, glancing back at them. "Mom will be back soon."

“You guys should head out,” you murmur, glancing back at them. “Mom will be back soon.”

Damian snaps to his feet, his voice firm. “I’m not leaving.”

Morgan huffs, crossing her arms. “Yeah. No way. I’m staying put.”

You blink slowly at the two of them, a mix of affection and resignation in your eyes. “Okay. Kinda expected that.”

Turning to Dick, who’s been standing off to the side, you raise an eyebrow, silently pleading for some backup.

“I’ll… go,” Dick finally says, holding up his hands in surrender. “It makes more sense if both of them are here, but not exactly me.”

You nod appreciatively, a flicker of relief crossing your face.

Dick moves toward a non-broken window but pauses, casting one last glance over his shoulder.

“I won’t tell B.”

“I know,” you murmur, offering him a faint, forced smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“But… he’ll know eventually.”

“… I know.”

Dick’s nod carries the weight of the unspoken, a silent agreement between you. He steps onto the sill, the night air brushing past him, and the curtains flutter gently in his wake. The soft rustling of the fabric is the only sound as he disappears into the darkness.

You take a step towards the window to close it, but Damian strides over, cutting you off as he shuts it for you.

You blink up at him.

“You’re still injured,” he says simply.

Oh boy. You can already feel the arguments bubbling up, ready to spill out—reasons to defend your choices, to insist that you’re fine, that you can handle it. But the fight drains out of you before it begins. You’re too tired, too worn down from everything that’s happened.

“Alright,” you murmur. Your eyes drift to the remnants of your suit, lying crumpled on the floor, torn and battered. “Hey, Morgz. Can you handle… that?”

Morgan follows your gaze to the suit, then nods.

“Sure thing,” she replies, already moving toward it in fix-it mode, likely running through a mental checklist of what she needs to do to patch it up.

Turning back to Damian, you step closer, slipping your hands over his shoulders. His muscles are coiled tight beneath your touch, like springs wound too tightly.

You give his shoulders a gentle squeeze, your fingers pressing into the solid muscle, trying to ease some of the tension, even if just a little.

“As for you… we really need to get changed,” you whisper. “We’re soaking the floors here.”

Damian nods silently, following you into the apartment’s bathroom. The door clicks shut behind you, sealing off the rest of the world.

With gentle hands, Damian reaches for your undershirt, his fingers brushing against your skin as he helps you peel the damp fabric away. The material clings stubbornly, but he works patiently, careful not to rush or cause you any discomfort. Finally, the shirt comes free, and he lets it fall to the floor.

He kneels down, his hands steady as he slips your pants down your legs, his touch light and deliberate, as if he’s handling something fragile. Once the clothes are off, he lets them drop with a soft thud, his eyes flicking back up to meet yours.

Without a word, he turns to the shower, twisting the knob until water rushes out in a steady stream. Warmth seeps into the air, the foggy mirror reflecting the both of you in a hazy outline.

Damian wastes no time unclasping his cape, letting it fall to the floor in a dark, heavy pool. He then quickly strips out of his tunic, the fabric clinging stubbornly to his skin before he pulls it off with a yank.

The tunic lands in a crumpled heap beside the cape, and your gaze is drawn to the red "R" emblazoned on his uniform. Your eyes lift to find Damian’s bare chest revealed—bronze skin etched with hard-earned muscle and a long, faded scar that traces a path across his ribcage.

Tugging his hands up, you began to slip off his gloves, the dark stain of blood transferring to your own skin. The crimson smear seeped down your fingers, dripping onto the bathroom floor and forming dark, splotchy patterns on the tiles.

When the blood was gone from his hands, you didn’t let go. Instead, you held onto his hands, feeling the slight tremor in them.

You stayed like that, holding his hands until the shaking subsided, until the tremors ceased and the strength you knew he had began to return to his grip.

Damian tightens his grip on your hand and pulls you under the shower with him, the warm water cascading over your bodies in a soothing wave. It’s a relief, the heat working its way into your sore muscles, washing away the grime, blood, and sweat from your skin.

For a moment, neither of you speak.

Silently, you trace a nail along a scar on his collarbone. The only sound is the steady patter of water against tile.

"I'm going to start patrolling with you."

You feel a muscle twitch in your jaw as Damian says that.

"Damian, you're not patrolling with me."

"Yes, I am."

"Damian, no."

"Damian, yes," he insists. “I'm coming with you. I've seen Gotham, and I've been doing this much longer than you have."

“Rub it in. Okay,” you scoff.

“Beloved, I’m trained for this.”

“I’m perfectly capable of handling this on my own.”

“That’s not the point. You can’t predict every danger.”

He’s not backing down. And you know, deep down, that this isn’t a battle you’re going to win.

With a strangled groan that rumbles up your throat, you lean into his chest, the warm, solid presence of him offering a small comfort.

“Ugh. Fine, but I’m the one who gets to pick out the patrol routes.”

 ༻⊰───⋅

Saturday, 3:02 AM - Crime Alley, Gotham City.

A whip drags across the crumbling floor of the rooftop, its leather coiling and uncoiling with each step, like a serpent following its master. The sharp clicks of heels against the roof echo through the stillness of the night.

A bag, stuffed with Selina’s latest haul, is slung casually over her shoulder, the weight barely slowing her down. The contents shift with each step, the muted clink of stolen treasures singing to her.

She hums a low, sultry tune, the sound barely more than a whisper against the backdrop of the city’s quiet. Her gaze sweeps across the rooftop and lands on her apartment building. Her eyes narrow at the sight of a broken window.

The playful melody dies on her lips, her steps slowing to a halt. Seems a stray found its way in.

With a quick flick of her tongue against her teeth, she leaps down to the fire escape.

The faint creak of metal under her heels is the only sound as she crouches. The sight that greets her sends alarms ringing in her head—the door to her apartment is kicked open, the metal railing bent and dented, signs of a struggle or a forceful entry.

Selina creeps closer, moving silently as she readies herself. But suddenly, she freezes. The sound of voices drifts through the walls, muffled yet unmistakably clear.

"—f we like... cut off your hand, do you think it'll grow back?"

"I dunno. Wanna try cutting my hand off, Morgz?"

"What?! Habibti. No. Absolutely not."

"But think about the science! What if her arm grows back, like, full-on lizard style?"

"Yeah, but what if it grows back all freaky? Like, what if I end up with two thumbs or something?"

"Or better—what if you grow back a tentacle?"

"Oh my God. I could totally kick ass as a walking calamari."

"Are you two out of your damn minds? I forbid it. We're not amputating anything."

"Killjoy."

Selina walks in, her eyes narrowing as she takes in the scene. The three of you are curled up on the sofa, with a ridiculous TV show playing in the background that no one is actually watching.

Her gaze locks on Morgan, and she quickly realizes she needs to keep her presence discreet. With a swift glance around, she silently slips into her bedroom.

Moments later, she reemerges in civilian clothes. She steps back out of the apartment, pretends to head down the hallway, then doubles back and quietly slips inside once more.

Damian is the first to notice her, and he immediately tenses, like a kid caught doing something he shouldn't.

"Do I even want to know what's going on here?" Selina asks, one eyebrow arching as she looks at the three of you.

Damian straightens up, attempting to look composed.

Morgan smiles sheepishly, "Hello, Miss Selina."

You shift uncomfortably, letting out a sigh.

“Hey, Mom.” You nod towards the broken window, and Selina’s gaze follows. “So… um, things got a little out of hand tonight.”

Selina's eyes flick between the broken window and the three of you. "You think?

She tries to shut the door behind her, but it barely clings to the frame, tilting awkwardly on its splintered hinges. The wood creaks in protest, a low groan that echoes through the room as she shoves it into place.

Damian flushes, his shoulders hunching as if trying to make himself smaller, knowing full well he’s the one responsible for the damage. You place a reassuring hand on his thigh, tapping gently, hoping to ease his embarrassment.

The knowing look Selina sends him suggests she’s already pieced together what happened.

She moves toward you, her expression softening as she gently cradles your face in her hands. Her fingers trace lightly over your injuries, each caress a soothing balm that feels like gentle rain easing the parched earth.

“Hey, ma,” you murmur, leaning into her touch, savoring the soothing sensation. You close your eyes for a moment, letting her warmth envelop you, grounding you.

You lean into her touch, feeling the exhaustion of the night seep away as her warmth envelopes you. She meets your gaze with a tender, concerned look, her eyes brimming with both worry and motherly affection.

"What happened to your face?" Selina starts. Her eyes flick from the bruises on your arms to the bandaged cut on your forehead, then to the dark circles under your eyes. "And what the hell did you do to my apartment?"

You wince but try to shrug it off nonchalantly. “Oh, this? Yeah. Yeah, I was… uh, fixing the window.”

“Fixing the window?” she repeats. “Why? You do know we have repairs scheduled monthly?”

“Whaaat?” you gasp, playing up your confusion. “I mean, I’m sure it needed it. Maybe.”

“It wasn’t even broken before I left. Did you break it on purpose just to fix it?”

You blink, looking baffled. “Seemed like a good idea at the time?”

“Um! Mrs. Selina,” Morgan chimes in, her tone awkward. “Actually, you see, we’ve got this event at Stark Industries coming up. We were, uh, testing some new tech, and it didn’t go exactly as planned.”

You jump in, nodding vigorously. Morgan discreetly hands you a small gadget, which you hold up for Selina to see. “Right. I didn’t expect it to work as well as it did. We were hoping for a few tweaks, but it kind of... overperformed.”

Selina eyes the gadget and shakes her head. “Overperformed? Is that what you’re calling it now?”

Morgan hums. "Yep, pretty much. The tech’s still in beta, so it’s got some quirks.”

Selina just nods, clearly unimpressed. "Still. Did you have to experiment in my apartment? I still remember that time you overcharged a set of batteries for a project and nearly blew up the kitchen."

You cringe, rubbing the back of your neck. “That was in fourth grade.”

“Ten-year-olds don’t typically run experiments on household electronics and nearly blow up the kitchen. That’s when I knew something was wrong with you,” Selina says, her gaze drifting to Damian, confusion gradually clouding her features. “And why is he here?”

“I’m helping with the project and the funding,” Damian quips, the lie slipping off his tongue like silk as he glances at you for confirmation. “Isn’t that right, beloved?”

You nod, playing along. “Yeah, that’s right.”

Selina’s eyes narrow as she processes this. “Isn’t Stark Tech rich enough to cover all of this?”

Morgan shrugs casually. “Oh, sure, Stark’s handling the main tech stuff. But Damian’s covering the extra costs—like her decorations and outfits for the semi-formal event.”

Damian steps in, his tone polite but firm. "Precisely why we came to your apartment, Miss Kyle. I was hoping to ask for your permission to take her out tomorrow. We’ll be shopping for her gown. And if you’d like, you could join us."

You blink, caught off guard. "Uh..."

Selina considers Damian’s question for a moment, then shakes her head with a sigh. "No can do. I have a... job arranged tomorrow. And I need to get that—" she points to the broken window with a frown—"looked at."

Ruffling her hair in frustration, she turns back toward her bedroom. "You have my permission, though. Just please—don’t turn my apartment into a lab next time."

"Thanks," you rush out, your voice a bit too eager. "Love you, Mom!"

Selina pauses at the doorway, humming in acknowledgment. She casts one last, assessing glance at the mess, her eyes narrowing slightly, before slipping into her room and muttering about needing to call a repair service again.

As the door swings shut behind her, you let out a quiet sigh of relief, feeling the tension slowly ease from your shoulders.

Morgan turns to you. "That was close."

“Too close,” you agree, then turn to Damian with a scowl. “What the hell? You realize we actually have to go shopping tomorrow, right?”

Damian hums, his gaze settling on you with that infuriatingly charming smolder—dark, intense, and undeniably attractive. “Yes, I do.”

You groan, rolling your eyes. “Are you doing this to try and make up?”

Damian’s expression shifts, a flicker of something dark crossing his face. It boiled his blood to think about this, but he had a habit of torturing himself over mistakes.

“It’s the least I could do,” he murmurs. “I almost…”

He trails off, lost in thought. His gaze turns distant, haunted. “I thought, if I could at least do something—anything—to make up for it, maybe it would help... even a little.”

You reach out, placing a hand gently on his arm.

“Nope. None of that,” you hush him softly. “We’re moving forward. We both are.”

Damian nods slowly, his shoulders relaxing a fraction. You rub his arm soothingly, then turn to Morgan with a raised brow. Morgan shrugs and holds up her hands in a mock surrender.

“The tech event is a real thing,” Morgan says, her tone matter-of-fact. “You didn’t think the internship was just a cover-up for all of this, did you?”

“Seriously? You guys actually have an event planned?” you ask, disbelief creeping into your voice.

“Yep. It’s the real deal and going to be a big deal. The whole fancy gown and decorations? Totally legit. We just had a few... detours so I couldn’t tell you.”

“What?” you groan, frustration mounting. “You didn’t tell me about this. I don’t even have a project ready to show!”

Morgan waves a dismissive hand, her grin widening. "Don’t worry, I’ll help with that. You still got a week and you’re a genius. The event’s about showcasing potential, not just completed projects. We can work something up, no sweat."

You roll your eyes. "Great, so we’re officially winging a multimillion-dollar internship offer that every single press outlet in Gotham is covering. No pressure, right?"

“Right.”

 ༻⊰───⋅

Saturday, 4:13 AM - Stark Tower, Gotham City.

The elevator doors slide open with a soft whoosh, revealing the dimly lit tech area of Stark Tower. You and Morgan step out, with Damian trailing behind, his arm wrapped firmly around your waist.

Despite your protests about your healing ankle, he supported you the entire way here. The pain was mostly gone, but Damian’s insistence on playing nurse seems stronger than your actual injury.

The three of you step out of the elevator and begin walking down the corridor. The air is crisp and slightly cool, carrying the faint scent of metal and polished surfaces.

“Dad wants you to give the opening speech, by the way,” Morgan says, threading her fingers through her hair as she leads you both around a turn in the hallway.

“Seriously? I’m not really a speech person,” you reply, knocking your shoe into hers. “Why don’t you do it instead?”

Morgan flashes a knowing smirk as she turns to walk backwards, facing you. “I’d love to, but Dad’s adamant about it. He’s all about that ‘new face of Stark Tech’ thing.”

A shudder of disgust visibly ripples through Damian.

“A marketing ploy,” he sneers. “Stark’s fully aware the media will devour the drama between our rival companies and turn it into a spectacle. Of course, Wayne Tech never needed such gimmicks to maintain its edge.”

Morgan chuckles, shaking her head. “Nah, I think he just wants to adopt her.”

The three of you turn a corner and enter a grand space where the hallway opens up into a wide, two-story room. Despite the hour, the floor-to-ceiling windows flood the area with a soft, muted glow from the city lights outside.

At the center of the room, Tony lounges casually on one of the plush sofas. Gadgets and tools are strewn about him, and he’s engrossed in tinkering with a small device. He looks up as you approach, adjusting his glasses.

“Hey, kids. Didn’t expect you back so soon.”

“Hey, Mr. Stark. Fancy meeting you here,” you murmur, trying to keep the mood light despite your exhaustion.

“I live here.” Tony wipes his hands on a rag, tossing the gadget onto the coffee table in front of him. Crossing his arms, he leans back against the couch. “Who’s your little boy toy? You cheating on Morgan now?”

Damian’s face flushes with irritation, his jaw tightening. You can’t help but snort and rest your cheek against Damian’s shoulder, your grin widening at his discomfort.

“This is the famous Daryll,” you snark, giving Tony a sidelong glance.

Tony’s gaze bores into Damian, taking in the dark, brooding aura that seems to cling to him like a second skin. The kid looks like he’s stepped straight out of a Twilight movie, with those piercing green eyes smoldering beneath furrowed brows, carrying a weight far beyond his years.

It didn’t help that Damian was also the son of a billionaire. Tony remembers him from his younger years—back then, he was a pipsqueak, a sharp-tongued brat who acted like he owned the world.

Now, he’s taller, lean, and strong, with a coiled tension in his frame. That same intense, self-assured vibe still lingers, but it’s darker now, more honed like he’s seen too much and come out the other side more dangerous for it.

“Nice to meet you, Twilight Reject,” Tony says, pushing himself up and extending his hand to Damian. "Put 'em up."

Damian’s eyes flick to Tony’s hand with a look of absolute revulsion, as if it were some particularly vile insect. He hesitates for a moment, then grudgingly extends his own hand. His grip is firm, almost painfully so, as if he’s trying to crush the perceived insult out of Tony’s hand.

“It’s Damian. Damian Wayne,” he says, drawing out and emphasizing his last name, the irritation barely masked.

"Yeah. I know who you are," Tony scoffs, turning to you with a raised brow. “What’s the deal? Did you lose a bet or something? You're dating someone with all the personality of a damp towel."

“It’s called having standards, something you might not be familiar with,” Damian snaps back, his tone biting.

You sigh, sliding Damian's arm off of you and wincing slightly as you put weight on your uninjured foot. Stepping between the two of them, you raise a hand in a placating gesture. “Alright, alright! Let’s not turn this into a pissing contest.”

“It’s been a rough night, and we all need some rest,” Morgan interjects, her tone weary as she empties her jacket pockets, gadgets clattering onto the table. She tosses her backpack across the room, where it lands with a heavy thud.

Gesturing toward the sleeping quarters, she adds, “Can we save the bickering for later? They’ve got somewhere important to be tomorrow.”

Tony squints. “And where exactly are you two going?”

“Tt…” Damian tilts his head towards the man. “We have a dress appointment scheduled for tomorrow. Naturally, I’m covering all the expenses.”

“A dress appointment, huh?” Tony steps closer, his hand resting on your shoulder. “Well, someone’s got to make sure Sneakers here doesn’t end up in a ditch, so I’m coming along, Daniel.”

“It’s Damian,” he corrects. “And no, that won’t be necessary. We can handle it on our own.”

“Zip it, Dylan. I’m the one organizing this shindig, so I’d like to ensure my top intern doesn’t end up looking like a rag doll.”

Damian’s lip curls slightly. “If you insist on being there, then I’ll have to bring my father along as well. As her top donor, he should oversee it too, don’t you think?”

You blink, caught off guard. That’s a stretch. Bruce Wayne’s never actually thrown cash at your extracurriculars—though he’s tried, insisting on it more than once. Even tried to sneak you and Selina money through some probably illegal wire transfer, but you never took it.

“Oh, please. Anyone can throw money around,” Tony retorts. “He’s not special.”

“Well. If you have a problem with that,” Damian murmurs coldly, “you’re welcome to voice it to him. Tomorrow.”

Tony coughs, barely stifling his laugh. “Oh, I’m sure I can handle some prissy playboy,” he says, clapping his hands together. “Can’t wait to see how that goes.”

Your brow creases in concern.

Oh, you really don’t want to see how that goes.

 ༻⊰───⋅

IM SO SORRY ITS LATE! HAD TO REWRITE A SCENE BC THE DRAFT GOT LOST :(

Next chap out soon </3 It's the weekends so it'll be quicker

Also I'm gonna rework some of the earlier chapters :P (Just tweaking writing a little no plot changes at all)

#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne #batfamily #dc robin #damian wayne al ghul #damian wayne imagine #selina kyle #bruce wayne #batman

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utterlyotterlyx · 6 months ago

Text

A Ballad of Storm and Shadow

Azriel x F!Reader

Part Two

Summary - Rhys had been content in taking the darkest secret of his family to the grave, but when the threat of Hybern increases, he has no choice but to send a message to another world and pray to the Mother that his call is answered.

Warnings - swearing, fluff, a little angst as always, mentions of blood, brother sister fluff 🥺

Part One

This is a crossover series, some aspects will differ from that in the books. Physical attributes are described in this fic, it is essential to the storyline of the character

There was only one singular thing that Rhys wanted more than to be able to spend a moment alone with his long-lost sister, telling tales and swapping stories of what the last 500 years had held for them, and that was to see Tamlin cower at her perfectly painted feet.

Though, Rhys was sure, like the other High Lords, that Tamlin would not be making an appearance, not after what Feyre had done to his court.

Aelin leaned to the side, her eyes not once moving from the reflective pool in the centre of the chamber as she whispered to y/n, causing the raven haired female to grin in response. It was clear that the two other-worldly women were putting the High Lords of Prythian on edge, if not for their damning beauty then because of the suffocating power that waltzed around them, dancing in a phantom wind and casting a faint shimmer over their forms.

Azriel didn't blame either of them for wrapping a shield around themselves, though, he did get the feeling that it wasn't they who had decided it, it seemed to be Rowan's doing. The fae prince's gaze sauntered across the room, not wanting to indulge in the idle chatter of lesser-than beings, he was assessing and probably imagining all the ways in which he could cut them down without even blinking.

The only sounds that filled the room were polite comments and the gossip from Vivane and Mor, catching up after 50 years apart. All Rhys wanted to do was lean over and ask his sister a million and one questions about her life, where she had been and what the other world was like, but, upon gazing upon her monotonous features, he decided against that impulse.

Instead, the High Lord of Night peered across the pool to find Eris Vanserra in complete awe of her, and if she had noticed his lingering gaze then she did well to not let onto it. Y/N had most likely already known that if she was raised in Prythian then it would have been him who would have been given her hand, their father had always wanted a way into the Autumn Court. Rhys was glad that she looked so alike to him, but he couldn't help but notice a certain darkness within her eyes, like a chilled breeze in the midst of winter, unwavering and fatal.

He had so many questions, so many things he needed to know.

A gentle loop of wind coursed through the open arches from the east, sifting through y/n's hair and cascading her scent straight into Azriel's lungs, so blissful that even his shadows swarmed around the speckles of air for a taste. He had been trying to pinpoint the individual aspects of her scent for the last ten minutes, desperate to etch it to memory, but that last fell sweep confirmed it.

Y/N smelt like the calm before the storm, when the earth hazed by swelter was damp and eagerly awaiting the roaring from the skies during its last moments of peace; there was a slight ashen note to it, like lightening kissed trees that were crackling after being torn apart by the storms fury, and then all of that was combined with with the heavenly aroma of fresh petrichor from newly bathed mountain springs.

He tried to tell himself that he was following each of her movements out of the desire to protect his home from a cunningly beautiful stranger, but he was lying to himself, so much so that his shadows swatted against his back sternly at the thought of her being anything remotely evil. Azriel couldn't take his eyes off of her, he noted every tick of her jaw when Beron would open his mouth and every furrow of her brow when someone would say something that intrigued her, and then there was a familiar softness that consumed her violet gaze whenever Rhys would taunt and prod those around him. Her eyes were laced with longing and pride, like she was only then realising everything she had missed from the moment she had been sent away.

Azriel was too keen not to notice the scar peeking from the bodice of her dress, though her hair did an exquisite job of hiding it, Azriel was placed in the perfect position to be able to count every scaled ridge. It extended from the tip of her pointed ear and slithered down her neck and shoulder before disappearing beneath the fabric of her dress, leaving Azriel to wonder two things, where the scar ended and what had happened to cause it. It was clear that they all had stories to tell, and Azriel was eager to know every snippet of hers.

"Forgive me for prying," Helion drawled, leaning forward in his seat and his lethally poised orbs staring directly at y/n, they trailed down her figure, from the ornate crust of jewels encapsulated around her head to the burgundy pumps on her feet, "But what exactly are you?"

The attention of the room shifted, the one thought on their minds having being thrust out into the open, and they all waited eagerly for her response. Y/N sighed and simply glanced to her right with a soft nod, bestowing a silent permission to her companion, Aelin, who grinned, knowing the floor was open for her, "Does the crown not do it for you? She's a queen."

"A queen?" Beron scoffed with a mixture of disbelief and amusement, his brown eyes wicked and untamed, he sneered at the jewels curling above her ears and asked, "Did it fall onto your head? How does a little girl like you get to call herself a queen?"

Rowan's jaw clenched, his top lip curling into a snarl, and he went to say something, to stand up for one of his two queens, but Aelin halted him with a firm hand on his forearm, "I killed my mother, not for the crown, but because-"

"She was an evil bitch?"

Y/N pointed to Aelin with her gaze stuck on Beron, unwavering, lethal, "That." Placing both hands flat against the arms of her chair, y/n rose from the seat, the sky darkening overhead and a violent gust soaring through the chamber, "I have not left my people to aid a continent that finds it acceptable to treat the only thing standing between them and certain death this way. I am over 500 years old, I'm not a little girl. I destroyed my mother and then eviscerated her body for extra measure, and if you think that I won't do the same to you then I would suggest thinking again. I am the daughter of one of the most powerful High Lords in your history, and I am also the daughter of a Valg queen whether I wish it or not. Choose your next words very carefully."

The air had grown heavy, swelteringly so, and the skies continued to darken with splotches of demonic grey; electricity surged through the space, causing the atoms to vibrate with tension. A faint rumble coursed in the distance, and sparks of blue lit up the skies which had once been a backdrop of serenity, even the ocean below could be heard crashing against the cliffside.

Despite his thunderous heartbeat, Beron couldn't allow his mask to shiver in response, no matter how much sweat had built up on his brow or cold had seeped into his bones. Before he could open his mouth and spurt another insult, two thick threads of lightening crashed through the dome of the chamber, landing on either side of him with a crack as they split open the stone under his feet. Thunder chuckled overhead, always thrilled to witness one of her spectacles.

Then, the darkness vanished, giving way to lazy beams of sun as she began her descent below the horizon, the air lightened and birdsong drifted through the room from the open arches. Still standing, y/n arched a brow and adorned a knowing smirk, knowing that a single effortless flash of her abilities had struck fear into every soul surrounding the reflective pool, "Next time, I'll let them devour you. My lightening enjoys the taste of snivelling old cunts."

I like her. Feyre's voice all but purred into Rhys' mind, her face was taut from attempting to hide her grin but it glowered in her eyes.

Hm. I don't think you're the only one. Rhys cocked his head to the side, causing Feyre to crane her neck to see Azriel staring down at her in total awe, though he wasn't even trying to conceal his smile, he let it shine for all to see.

Aelin looked practically giddy by the show, waiting for y/n to sit at her side once more before continuing on as if nothing had happened, "Carrying on," Aelin folded her hands over her stomach and leaned back, propping one of her legs up on the arm of her seat, "Y/N is the Queen of the Fae of Erilea," Aelin glanced to y/n with a level of adoration, "She gave up everything to aid us, there is no one I would rather rule beside than her," Rowan cleared his throat at the words, sending Aelin a deadpan and stern glare, "Oh, and birdboy over here."

"What a touching sentiment," the white haired warrior drawled, his eyes were laced with humour as he rolled them, his body language relaxing tenfold compared to when he had been assessing the males in the room earlier. Apparently he had deduced that none of them were a threat to him and his queens, not after y/n's recent display. "And," he looked to Beron whose orbs were trained on the steaming black cracks etched into the stone floor, "If you thought that was bad, then you should count yourself lucky that Aedion and Lorcan weren't here. Your head would be detached from your shoulders for that level of disrespect."

Aedion and Lorcan.

Rhys made a mental note to ask about them later, and why saying their names aloud made Rowan's smirk turn positively feline.

"Don't forget about Manon," Aelin sang, and Rowan chuckled darkly at the thought, making Azriel think that he never wanted to meet whoever Manon was.

Y/N dragged her fingers through the lengths of her hair and sniffed the air lightly, her ears pricking as though they could hear something approaching from the distance, and just as the doors swung open did her eyes dart to meet them.

Eyes connecting with those of the intruder, Y/N shivered at the tremors of magic that coursed through the room from the High Lords and their entourages throwing their shields up, and she noticed keenly how the shield around the Night Court in particular became reinforced with rage, even if Rhys' face didn't show it.

The male before her eyes was not considered an ally.

Dressed in a green tunic and smiling so broadly that she could see each of his gleaming white teeth, the male sauntered forward into the stilled room with eyes dancing between Rhys and Y/N, picking apart every similarity between them until the realisation swarmed him.

Thesan rose to his feet slowly, his Peregryns ready to put him down if needed, but he really hoped that it wouldn't come to that, "We were not expecting you, Tamlin," he extended a hand to his quivering aids and ordered, "Please bring the High Lord a chair."

Despite his flickering eyes and subdued smile, Tamlin mainly kept his gaze on Feyre, staring directly into her soul, and by the looks of him y/n could tell that he was lethal in his own right. Feyre shuffled under his gaze, a gaze that sought to control and demand her, and y/n would be damned if she allowed such a thing.

"I have to admit that I am surprised you came, Tamlin," Beron drawled, somewhat recovered from the display of anger directed at him only moments before, "Rumour suggests that your allegiance lies elsewhere these days."

Still, Tamlin's gaze did not leave Feyre, it only moved downward to the band circled on her finger and then trailed up to the tattoo flowing and ebbing against her hand, finally ending on the crown lay atop her head. He exhaled through his nose and waited for the aids to place his seat between Beron's sons and Helion's clan; he had come with no generals, no family, no friends, he was completely alone.

The male didn't utter a single word as he sat, the air was tight, but he moved his gaze at long last and rested it upon y/n, narrowing his green eyes at her and tilting his head slightly as if he was trying to place her in his mind. Helion waved his hand, cutting through the ripe tension, "Let's get on with it then."

It made Rhys feel uneasy, the way Tamlin was looking at his sister and the way in which she was staring back, almost taunting him with her orbs of violent delight. He wanted to reach into her mind and tell her to stop, but her walls were strong, almost impenetrable.

Thesan cleared his throat, eager to move the meeting along so that the time spend with Tamlin was as little as possible. No one looked toward the High Lord of Dawn, not even Tamlin as he moved his eye back to Rhys and Feyre, eyes simmering with a hatred that y/n had only ever seen within her mother. He opened his mouth, and Feyre visibly braced herself, "It seems as though congratulations are in order."

Silence.

Only Rhys held his stare, and deep down, y/n could feel his wrath bubbling inside of him like a hot spring, he looked to Thesan and said, "We can talk of this matter later."

"Don't stop on my account."

Rhys' grip tightened around Feyre's knee, "I'm not in the business of discussing our plans with enemies." His gaze floated to his sister who was still staring down Tamlin, hands coiled around the arms of her chair and eyes blazing with a fury he didn't know she too possessed.

"No," Tamlin matched Rhys' tone with a certain level of ease, "You're just in the business of fucking them."

The room stilled with rage, the entire entourage of the Night Court seethed in silence, waiting for a single nod from their High Lord to allow them to tear this nothing-man into pieces.

A single claw slid from his knuckles, and the world became muffled to y/n, she wasn't focusing on anything or anyone other than him, the one making a clear threat toward her brother and his mate, her sister by law. There was nothing more sacred. Then she fell back into the room just as Tamlin smirked and angled his head at Rhys, "When you fuck her, have you ever noticed that little noise she makes right before she climaxes?"

Heat stained Feyre's cheeks at the question, one that sought to discount everything that she was. Beron beamed, and Eris monitored the situation carefully from his seat, but then-

Silence. A gentle kiss of breeze.

Azriel glanced to his right, expecting to see y/n sat there with hate-filled eyes, but she was gone. A wet gurgling pulled his attention, he followed the noise and his eyes widened with delight.

Y/N had winnowed right into Tamlin's lap, her elongated talons piercing the skin of his neck causing blood to trail downward and pool at the collar of his tunic. Her other hand was furled into his hair, tugging his head back roughly so that his eyes met hers. One wrong move and Tamlin was done, and he knew it, the terror clear in his panicked eyes.

"If you ever speak of my sister-in-law, or any female, in such a manner again," she spoke lowly, dangerously, like poison on the tip of a blade, "It will be the last time you speak. Am I clear?" Her talons dug in deeper, the blood staining the rings littering her fingers.

Tamlin nodded shakily, gasping for air, and y/n only smirked down at him before retracting her talons from his flesh and bringing her index finger up to her lips, painting the bottom with his blood and humming, "For a male who acts so mighty, your fear tastes delicious," she ground down on his lap and called to her companions, "I think we have seen enough, don't you?"

Huffing, Rowan rose to his feet followed by Aelin, and the pair rounded the pool, Rowan extending a hand to y/n on the way and not even flinching when her bloodied fingers used him as leverage to slide from Tamlin's thighs. "Pathetic," he spat, bewildered at how their help had been wished for when they couldn't even play nice with one another. They all needed some lessons on how to get things done.

The trio sauntered from the chamber, but stopped in place when Thesan rose to his feet and called out to them, understanding that their aid meant the difference between peace or annihilation, "Please, wait." Thesan took three steps toward the trio whose combined power rippling around them was enough to make them see stars, "Stay the night at least, allow us to prove to you that we are worthy of saving."

Without looking back like Aelin and Rowan had, y/n nodded stiffly and only once before she rounded the doors, disappearing into the palace to presumably be shown to her rooms for the evening.

And, after a fair few snarky comments and displays of power, the meeting concluded, and Rhys was the first one rising from his seat and rounding the opened doors, following that mesmerising mountainous scent all the way through palace until he met a pair of tall golden doors that were littered with engravings of clouds and stars.

The rest of the Inner Circle eventually caught up with him, panting, and Cassian especially cursing the day Rhys was born for making him rush so much. Before Rhys could even raise a fist to the door, to reunite with his sister in the way that he had dreamed of for 500 years, it opened for him, and he found Aelin lazily draped against the frame looking to him with an arched brow; she peered behind him at the rest of his family and smiled, "Come on in."

Aelin stepped aside and ushered the group into the lavish suite they had been gifted, Thesan had really pulled out all of the wonders to make their stay as comfortable as possible. Soft white walls encircled the room that was adorned with pillars of solid gold and intricate artworks that littered the ceilings, wide open arches gave way to skies caressed with oncoming darkness, and in the centre was a seating area that rivalled that of the River House, long deep rooted chairs and frilled pillows, a square glass table at the centre and a fire raging on against the wall.

Upon one of the many seats, the Inner Circle found Rowan, feet propped up on the glass and head craned to meet them, "She'll be out in a minute," he drawled, "She's getting used to how large her bed is."

"I was washing the blood off my hands, thank you very much," y/n waltzed in from the open door on the left, wiping her cleared palms against the deep blue skirt of her dress, "You make me sound like such a princess."

Rowan rolled his eyes and dipped his head backward, pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing, like her testing his patience was a common occurrence, "I would like to remind you that you were one. For 500 years. And I've known you for half of that time."

Y/N straightened and shrugged, "Fair enough," she turned on the balls of her bare feet to face Rhys and angled her head to the side, waving her gaze from his feet to his crown, "Who would have ever thought that we'd end up like this?"

A High Lord and Queen.

Rhys' smile widened as he beheld her, as they all did actually, the dark monster vanquished into a sea of light leaving behind something airy and fresh, "Certainly not me. I didn't think I'd ever see you again."

Her smile faltered, "Me neither," she took a step toward him, "You gave me quite a scare you know, with that message."

Rhys matched her step, "That was never my intention."

"I know," she loosened her shoulders, "We'll help, even if the other High Lords of this land don't know the meaning of decorum."

Adoration flashed in his eyes, "Thank you, for what you did in there for Feyre. It was-"

"Terrifying?" Y/N moved like the wind, approaching her brother and taking his hands in hers, "I'll do anything to protect family."

And the Inner Circle knew that the protection she spoke of also extended to them, to the found family Rhys had formed in her void.

Snapping back into reality, Rhys placed a tender kiss on her brow and then angled his body to allow his family a chance to really see her, "Y/N," he began, tugging her to the jumbled line his circle had formed, "You know Feyre, my High Lady and mate, and this her sister, Nesta," the pair smiled warmly at one another whilst Nesta watched on, unphased, "This is Amren, my second in command. Cassian, the general of my armies. Mor, your cousin," Mor beamed at the sentiment, she was astounded to be related to someone so incredibly powerful and beautiful, "And then this is-"

"Azriel," the Shadowsinger interrupted, taking a single step forward causing y/n to crane her neck to get a better look at him.

Tendrils of darkness poked over his shoulders and combed through her hair, placing delicate kisses against her cheeks whilst she drank him in. Azriel was beautiful, dark hair and brooding hazel orbs, tattoos that crept up his arms and peered out of the collar of his second skin, a perfectly sloped nose and full lips, and a jaw so sharp she felt as though if she reached out to touch it then her fingers would return to her sliced.

"Azriel," the faint whisper sounded like a sonnet to his ears, and her offered a small smile, and she returned it instantly, unable to tear her eyes away from his until Cassian cut through the moment.

"Hate to break up whatever this is," he spoke with a wink in Azriel's direction who contained his growl to silence, "But we have to know everything about you. It's not every day that your best friend forgets to tell you that he has a sister in another world."

Shaking her head with a slight blush creeping up her cheeks, y/n motioned to the seating area, moving from Azriel and leaving his shadows pining after her to find a space in the centre of one of the four plush benches, "Sit. I'll tell you everything you want to know."

Azriel moved first, wasting no time in taking the seat to her left whilst Rhys took the space to her right, the rest of the inner circle filled the other vacancies, Cassian puffing out his chest when he fell beside Rowan, the latter of who just grinned at the action, and Nesta partly cowering away from Aelin who watched her with a raised brow.

"How old are you?" Mor asked with a voice of wonder, she should have been angry at Rhys the moment she found out that she had another cousin that had been hidden from her, but for some reason she wasn't.

Y/N glanced to Rhys, "I'm 508, give or take a couple of years."

"So you were banished when you were a baby?"

"Yes. I hadn't even reached my second year, " y/n smiled sadly, "The Sidra flooded the city when I was born, our father said that an uncontrollable storm raged on for two weeks afterward. It was clear that I had a power that couldn't be tamed here, so I was sent to my mother in Doranelle, and she raised me."

"I remember that storm," Mor spoke faintly, brow furrowed as she recounted the night when the lightening cracked over the Court of Nightmares, causing the entire city to seek refuge indoors for four whole days and nights, "I didn't realise that it was you."

"Yes, well," y/n trailed, "It's not everyday a High Lord fucks a Valg queen but here we are."

Feyre suppressed a chuckle at y/n's tone, one that was light and attempting to find the silver lining of it all.

Rhys lay a sturdy hand on her knee and pulled her attention to him, unspoken words of an eon drifted between them, "If it's any consolation, I think that father sent you away because he knew that you were meant to be more than a High Lord's trophy wife. Males would wage wars to control a power like yours."

Feyre spoke next, asking, "What is it that you can do?"

Laying her palm open toward the ceiling, the room watched intently as blue sparks of lightening coursed over her fingertips and curled around her wrists, "I can mostly control the weather, storms to be exact, and water also answers my call."

"Tell them the truth, y/n," Aelin teased, "Stop trying to lessen your worth," she told y/n sternly, holding her gaze and sighing when she didn't elaborate, "She decimated an entire army with that power to save me, and the entire world. It nearly killed her. Erilea owes her a great debt. That's why she is queen, not because of her birth right, but because she sacrificed herself to make the world a better place."

"So, you control storms, huh?" Cassian cut through the pause, threading his fingers behind his head and leaning back into the seat, his face a mixture of impress and challenge.

Y/N raised a goblet to her lips, causing Azriel to wonder where exactly she had gotten it from, and drank slowly, "There's a reason that storms are named after women."

"Can you fight?" Mor asked, eager to know if she could train with her cousin, wanting to spend as much time with her as possible with the time they had together.

Rowan huffed and then frowned when Aelin dug her elbow into his ribs, but it didn't hurt him, not one bit. "You can thank me for that."

"He trained you?" Cassian asked with disbelief, his shoulders squaring and eyes narrowing at the white haired fae prince.

"I can show you if you'd like?" Y/N smirked through her lashes, eyes swimming with unmatched mischief as Cassian turned to her and grinned, thinking it would be an easy win for him. "If you're up to the challenge?"

"I would be honoured to show you how us Illyrians fight. Maybe you'll learn a thing or two." Cassian wriggled his brows at y/n but he failed to notice the glance she sent to Rowan who was rolling his eyes in her direction, and something told Azriel that Cassian would be eating those words once the morning came to pass.

Author's Note

Part 2 is here my lovelies!

As always let me know what you think!

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death---dealer · 7 months ago

Text

Cleopatra. ( Caesar x Pregnant! Human Reader, Drabble Series. POTA )

I should not listen to myself i said 5 drabbles well well here we are with like 6 and close to 7K words and most of them are smaller oneshots AH. Reblogs, likes, comments all appreciated. I am working on a similiar piece for NOAAAAA!!!!

Beginnings. ( Drabble 1. )

You felt like you couldn’t breathe - the air was sticking onto your lungs, coating them in ashen dust that was laying on the ground of the woods. You needed to move --- Okay, maybe not, grunting that inside of your mind as you attempted to shift your head just a bit to get a bearing onto your surroundings proved futile as red hit your eyes and your neck convulsed under the usual movement. Pain radiated from the back of your head, down to the base of your neck and stagnantly danced on the nerves piled there. Even shifting to press your hand against your stomach was an endeavor and even then, the blood that was on the palm of your hand… You squinted at it, fear setting in as the last drop of whatever adrenaline you had faded into obscurity.

Was… Was that your blood? Trying to swallow was impossible, planting your face down into the mud and letting out a strangled cry as you attempted to move once again, your teeth gritting against each other but in the scape of the situation, that felt heavenly as compared to the tattering that was running through your muscles. Saliva began mixing into the already impure snow under your body having been mixed previously with mud. One foot, you tried to convince yourself. You just needed one… On… One… Looking down at your right foot as you managed to get yourself kneeling, accomplishment was short-lived as your ears rang, your center of gravity disappearing as did your vision. Falling back, your body was hard to hit the ground.

In a fitted haze of unconsciousness, you could have sworn you were… Swooped up in one foul move by a set of arms that were much hairier than a humans. Warm, you had thought to yourself, but that could be swelling in your brain telling you that death was on the horizon. Death… Sounded nice versus the incredible tremors of your body, throwing into a it of hypothermia, a cusp of bruises and cut-marks aligning against your already frigid skin to the point where it felt you were going to shatter into shards if you were moved too quickly, to feverishly. How selfishly you wanted to open the door where the knock was coming from. But you had more to think about than just yourself now.

Flinching at the pain of your abdomen, a pair of hands were astute enough to deduce your intensely fragile situation.

What… is happening?

Voice of God, it had to be. It trembled in a deep setting baritone, hard and unforgiving. Yes, you wanted to cry, I am with Child but I… Can’t find it in myself… to live…

Found in woods! Nearby Human Camp--- This voice was light and airy but you were unable to process the words that came after that, your mind bending into a haze as you tried to get yourself into a state of lucidity so you could actually focus. Brought back to Colony when saw she was still alive.

Colony? You wanted to tilt your head but in your jilted state, you were unable to move.

With Child. Not far along, but both will survive if we keep her here and heal.

This voice was a bit more soft spoken, gentle and caressing like the hands that were now placed on your head, your eyes refusing even the most basic of knowledge from your brain to get them open. It smelt like conifer, the highest tree possible, a bird sitting atop and watching the inklings of the ground below its mighty perch. Heaven? There was a lax in the air of contemplation before the baritone voice from earlier spoke.

She will stay, do what you can to heal.

And with that command and your mind taking itself to the darkness, even in the state of your eyelids being shut, everything went black.

Empathetic Ape. ( Drabble 2. )

It did not take long after you finally willed yourself out of your semi-coma to realize that you… Had been taken prisoner by a Colony of Apes. In your mind, you drew the conclusion from the snippets of the conversation you got when you were first brought here in your altered state of reality that… They had found you. Half-alive and brought you back to the Colony at the bid of their King. This… Your eyes narrowed a small bit as you looked over the giant and sweeping bonfire that was built in the middle of this communal space. This Caesar.

There was irony in the name itself, and you just had to wonder if he knew that. You had woken up nearly a month ago, fading in and out, but able to keep yourself stable enough to process that… They were being kind in healing you. They knew, you drew your arms closer to your stomach as you tightened the animal pelt around your shoulders and gave Caesar a wide stare as he looked over at you, your actions must have torn him from his conversation with the others around him. They knew you were pregnant. They must have thought they were sparing you, not telling you the detailed nature of the camp when they had found you. The--- You choked a small cry, tears pricking at the back of your eyes. The bodies. Your friends. Your family. Your--- Squeezing your eyelids shut, you couldn’t bear to think about it any longer and forced a swallow down before looking at the fire rather blandly. “Do not know… much,” That voice! You jumped on your spot, clutching the pelt even harder and causing your knuckles to go white. Your eyes scaled from the jumping flames, up the hackles of an Apes legs and rested uncomfortably in a sea of green, ablaze from the depths of the fire itself. You swallowed lightly, watching him move in petulant silence as he sat next to you, bowl in his hand. Caesar. Caesar. Your mind was wailing like an old police car.

“About human… Pregnancy.” No shit, you wanted to retort sarcastically but you held your tongue as he held out the bowl in his hand. Fruit. And… You squinted. Roasted fish? Your stomach churned at the prospect of having something other than a slurry of ground up food, something the Apes that were aiding you to heal often fed you as a means to get the food down as fast as possible. Faster, no chance of morning sickness, right? Wrong. You found yourself kneeling over and getting sick more times than you could count. “Might be similar to Ape, but do not know.” In between his choppy English, you grasped the plate carefully with one hand and brought it into your chest with the smallest ‘thank you’. It wasn’t as if the Female Apes that were healing you were awful, they weren’t cordial though. It felt they only did what they needed to to appease the Ape next to you. Strong, mighty and all encompassing Caesar. “I am…” You had begun eating, chewing mildly so as to not disturb the tone of Caesar’s voice. Waving right around the edges, or it could have been your imagination in the front of the roar of a fire, “Sorry…” Furrowing your eyebrows at that, you picked the fish with your pointer finger, suddenly not at all invested in eating as bile switched in your throat. “Lost my mate,” He continued on, your eyes dead-set and widening as you realized he was… displaying empathy. Your mind fogged for a moment. They were capable of that? “Only recently,” Gesturing to the perch you had found yourself watching him on earlier in the evening, he was making direction towards the broader chest of one of the Females that took care of you here. Squinting, you gasped quietly. They were so small, so ingrained in the fur that it was hard to tell there was a baby there, until their tiny head turned to the side and much to your surprise, you were met with a mild azure rather than the scrutiny of green you were so used to. “Blue Eyes, my Son. Mother lost after… Birth.” Not meaning to seem rude, your tried to keep your mouth from falling open dramatically, but it did partially split. “Complications from childbirth?” Surprised at the gentle nature of your voice, you felt a tear slide down your right cheek and you were quick to brush it away. Like it mattered, once one started, there was a flood soon to come. He only nodded, silent and a bit less intimidating than the times you had seen him, times you had interacted before this. “I---” you choked a bit, looking down at the bowl in your hands that Caesar was gracious enough to bless you with, “Don’t know wh-what happened to my husband… Was…” Narrowing your eyes in slight suspicion, you glanced over at him briefly when your voice tapered into nothingness but you forced yourself to speak the next question with no animosity. You needed to know the answer. “Was it Apes?” He’d know the answer, you bargained. Being a King and all. That’s what it was to be a Leader. You knew the good, and you knew the bad. And even worse than all of that, you knew the carnage. “No.” He was assured in that answer as his gaze met yours once again, this time, instead of finding yourself looking away, you drifted towards it, towards some comfort that someone else… Knew about the absolute torn away nature of your heart and how it was so empty now.

“Humans.” There was a twinge of assurance in his voice as he rose, gesturing to the bowl he had given you. “Keep strength up. Not just for yourself, but for…” His eyes flickered down to your stomach, minute in nature but he may as well have been gawking at you. “Child.”

Baby Blue. ( Drabble 3. )

A few months passed and you found yourself easing into the Colony, despite the disgruntled comments you got from a certain Bonobo who shall not be named. That was your nickname for him, and that’s how it remained as Winter fell off and Spring blossomed, the wildflowers bustled through the ground, through the snow that was still encapsulating its livelihood. All of it was going to be gone by the end of the day, you thought mildly as you looked at the Sun.

Taking a bid from Caesar himself, you were basking in the rays, sitting atop a rather comfortable tree trunk that had been rolled onto its side as a means to be sat on. He had convinced you to leave your hut earlier in the day, telling you that Sun was good for Ape pregnancy, it must be good for Humans. There was no intense argument to be made as you gave him a delicate smile, nodding in agreement and finding yourself drenched deliciously in mild-warmth, your scattered and torn paperback book sitting in your lap.

Looking down at it… You felt a deep yearning and pressing sensation hit your chest. You were showing. Not much, you were sure that the other Apes had yet to notice any change with you, not that you could blame them. As you got adapted to living with them, you became just another part of Colony life and they paid you no heed. Unless you were late for meals. Then Luca was on you ( something you thought that Caesar was responsible for, but it turns out the Silverback was genuinely concerned for you at times ).

In your time here, he had become your closest ally, even going as far as to call him a friend. He made gentle comments, telling you how glowing you looked today, something he must have heard through the grapevine that humans said about pregnancy, he told you how wonderful it was that your baby was developing, and that you were beginning to actually show. He had explained that with Apes, they all grew small. Small to the point where it was undetectable. You envied that, placing a soft hand against your bump and sighed deeply. Soon, no Ape here would be able to walk past you without gawking, without it looking like you had stolen a ripe melon and decided to shove it under your shirt.

There was chittering to your side, your head wiping over to investigate. Not too quickly though, even though time had passed, your neck still felt sore if you went to fast in your movements. Blue Eyes, much like yourself, was growing. The phase of always clinging to a Female, or even better, your guilty pleasure when you wanted to see something abnormally cute, clinging to Caesar’s chest, were coming to a close and he was becoming more curious of the world around him, much like yourself.

Chuckling at the fact that you were drawing comparisons to a baby Chimp, you grunted and picked him up as he so often liked to held by you when you would read pages from your book. He had to learn speech, right? And who better to learn from than from a Human who had impeccable --- Well, you tilted your head and smiled at the baby as he crawled himself up your arm, around your shoulder and then back down the other arm, decent skills in English.

He paused at the same time that you did, a fluttering capturing your abdomen. Was that… It happened again, this time more fervently, your mouth falling into an ‘O’ shape, and any Ape who saw you at this moment were probably assuming that you were laughing. “Did… did you feel that?” You bent your head down and gawked at Blue Eyes, who gave you a small tilt of the head as he placed his dainty hand right upon the top of your bump. Right where you had felt the sensation. The butterflies - The - The… Your baby.

“You felt that.” Confirming that, Blue Eyes hooted in your lap as a response. You had no idea what he was saying as tears hit the back of your eyes as your face contorted. You began openly sobbing, not a care in the world if anyone saw you.

Caesar was perched in his normal spot, having just dismissed the council. Koba lingered as he usually did, giving comments about you, about you being with child and how dangerous of a game it really was. But, the King was in no mood to listen to that and told Koba that he would need time to think about his words and they could discuss at a later time.

Blue Eyes-- He had jumped off Caesar’s shoulder mid-meeting. Probably scavenging somewhere for some berries, most likely pestering you though as that slowly became the small Prince’s favorite pastime. Not that Caesar was one to complain. It came with benefits. You were good with Blue Eyes, you were gentle and kind and it gave Caesar actual time with his own thoughts without having to dally on his child.

He peered down the rock ledge. Spotting you was easy, your scent often gave away your where-abouts to Caesar. Green eyes hit the back of your head first, admiring the tousel of your hair on this particular day and how it appeared naturally highlighted in the sunshine.

You had been reading, Caesar’s suspicions confirmed. Blue Eyes was with you and was most likely getting a mouth full from whatever you were reading to him. Then the shaking of your shoulders. Caesar’s eyes narrowed upon seeing his Son’s small hand on your stomach. He wasn’t… No, no, Blue Eyes wasn’t hurting you, the gentle touch he had was too soft to inflict damage of any sort. Watching in contemplation of whether he wanted to go down there and see what was happening, he saw your hand come up as you lightly placed it on Blue Eyes’, holding it against the shelf of your stomach that was becoming more pronounced. Caesar stopped himself from moving and just… Surveyed. He could hear your mild words fluttering through the air like dandelion seeds. “I think it’s a boy.” Chittering from Blue Eyes. “A girl? Are you sure?”

Camp. ( Drabble 4. )

Caesar had told you that on their most recent delectation of Hunting, on top of snagging a few Elk for the Colony, they had fallen upon what appeared to be a deserted human settlement. He estimated it had been abandoned for only a year, maybe less. Some of the things were coated finely in dust from the woods, no implications that it had been there since the beginning of the Flu and it was in remarkable condition.

He didn't dig into it though, unsure of what items you were in more need of than others and had chosen to come back home and tell you of it. You were prompt to accept the offer to go with him two days from when he told you, now in the present you were teetering yourself to keep balance on the uneven floor of the woods, opting to walk when you were concerned of riding a horse while pregnant. He told you it wasn’t much farther, having left shortly after dawn and stopping a few times as you severely needed to relieve yourself behind a tree, having to tell the Ape King himself not to watch you as he was pretty concerned you could be attacked while out of his sight. Ideas flurried in your mind as you drew closer, Caesar having just stopped to take in the surroundings.

He banked right, and you were quick to follow. You thought about what pieces of clothing you had. Things were beginning to not fit, you were rounding out and getting plump. Your favorite cargo pants were hanging on by a literal hair-tie that you had been using to keep them shut by the front button, your favorite shirt… Well, the Apes, you joked in your head, must have been tired of seeing the bottom of your stomach always innately displayed.

Some larger shirts would do the trick, nothing needed to be Maternity in a world where that was considered a privilege and luxury. To put things plainly, as you had told the Ape King, who was kind enough now to give you a helping hand right down a small embankment, his other hand coming to ghost right under your bump to keep your center of gravity, leaving you with a wild tinted blush against your cheek when you scuffled against him, chest to bump for a few seconds, beggars could not be choosers.

Pulling away from Caesar’s grasp was never an easy thing. You wanted nothing more than to sink into him, sink into the tender moments where he had you alone, and vice versa. The late nights of restlessness you found yourself in at times, thinking of your lost family, your husband, the conversations in front of the dying fire where he had finally laid bare his feelings and emotions about the loss of his wife.

Spotting glances through the day, Caesar laid his hands on you only when he was easing to help you. He had taken note that while Cornelia was small, and Chimpanzees were known to carry small, you were quite a delicious spectacle to his eyes in all the best ways and he considered your attention something he actively sought now, though, he was unsure if he was willing to ease himself into admitting that.

Rounding a large Red Wood, your eyes were witnessed to the camp. If you felt like running, you would surely do that but the fear of falling flat on your face stopped you as you tore away from Caesar and trekked ahead of him, only giving him a glance over your shoulder as if you were asking if it was okay to go in front of him. He did not nod, but he didn't object as you gave him a smile and quickened your pace, hand on the underside of your growing baby to keep yourself steady enough as you sauntered.

The outside was remarkably sparse, nothing to really indicate that Humans had been there, other than a firepit and a few strewn bags like they packed and left in a hurry. But, once you were able to really get your teeth sunk into the abandoned building, from the set up of an old restaurant of sorts, you were able to get a taste of things you had missed. You felt like crying as you came upon a table with a few pieces of clothing on it. Upon further inspection, they were Men’s, XL. Without hesitation, they were placed into the bag that Caesar had provided for the occasion. Three shirts, one red, one black and one white. Basic, but you were bursting at the seams. All you needed were some pants! Maybe some undergarments if there were any. It felt like you were in a retail store! So exciting---

Feet coming to a slow pause they eventually stopped moving and billow of dust remained underfoot. Your eyes wanted to blink, but you were unable to stop. Caesar must have seen you, having rounded you and obscured your vision from what you were focused on in a darkened corner. He didn't touch you, he wasn’t sure if that was allowed as tears slid down your cheeks.

One at a time before they came down in a torrential rain. You pushed past him as if he weren’t even there and trailed forward, dropping to your knees without reserve as you grasped the small teddy bear into your hands. There was a name embroidered upon it. Fingers touched the thread, pink in color. Cedar.

Caesar drew near you carefully, the sob you let out was nothing short of shocking and he felt the hackles of his fur standing on edge as if someone were there intentionally hurting you.

“A… baby…” You whimpered to him, holding up the bear for him to take. He saw nothing special about it as he grasped it with one hand and you shuffled on your hands and knees, baring the pain it was causing you against the tile flooring and came upon a few tangled up pieces of clothing. Small. So… So very small… “Th-They had a baby…” Crying out again, you grasped the clothing and held it in your hands before falling back onto your butt, “Do-do you think they-they’re still alive?” Caesar had no words, his eyes widened at the turmoil you were suddenly thrusted in. No explanation, perhaps those… Pregnancy hormones you had joked about from time to time, Caesar thought and narrowed his eyes on you. He didn't… know how to comfort you. You were crumbling down right in front of him.

He knew you were going to need help getting off the ground though, and he was careful to crouch next to you. Plucking the baby clothing out of your hand, he placed them lightly onto the floor, your eyes squeezing shut and without a word, you collapsed right against. Caesar was fast to react, grunting a small bit as he moved himself, and then you enough to get your body to sit in his actual arms rather than against him.

“B-B-B-...” You stuttered, the Ape hoisting you upwards to get you out of the dusty nature of the floor, you clung onto him tightly. “Do-Do you think they…” Caesar surged a bit at your implied questions, grasping you that much tighter. The side of your bump conformed against his broad chest. “I--- I am sure they got out. That they are fine.” He did not feel comfortable bluntly lying about something that he had no basis for, but as the tears fell from your eyes, as you grasped his forearm tightly, your fingers digging to the point where you were touching his skin and no longer his fur, Caesar didn't care. He’d lie his tongue off just to get you to a sense of comfort.

Bumping Foreheads. ( Drabble 5. )

The water surging against your back felt incredible. Pressing your hands to the small of your back, right above your tailbone you grunted gently and eased back into the chill of the small waterfall you had been blessed to enjoy in the spotting Summer evenings. It was still early in the season, but it was beckoning you more and more to enjoy. You knew that Caesar was in the area - probably only meters away, and paying his eyes attention elsewhere as to not see you naked, but his hearing and his scent were always on the prowl. Three times a week he’d bring you to the secluded waterfall, letting you bathe and release the tension he knew that your body was going through.

You were large - to the point where you had accidentally bumped into a bowl of blueberries this morning and it went tumbling down the rock face. Before you managed to cry though, Blue Eyes began eating them right off the ground and Caesar even blessed you with a mild joke of ‘they… are not completely… ruined’. That did make you feel better as you sniffled and nodded in agreement. All things were cleared away when you took in the water, letting the chill seep into your pores as you tilted your head backwards to let it drain against your face. Feeling the kick on the side of your stomach, you winced at the severity of it against your ribs as your baby had turned to start playing against the bones there to let you know they were content with the water too. Maybe a bit cold for their tastes, but they were snuggly inside of your stomach, wrapped in eternal warmth until you were ready. Until they were ready, you thought, laughing and pressing your fingers against the side of your abdomen. They reacted right away to your touch, something like a hand or foot pushing back and you took in the sight of your stomach stretching with their movements.

You had no care in the world anymore. Hell, you thought to yourself in your bliss of the moment, you’d let Caesar see you bare in all your glory. It was the most comfortable. Clothes were restricting, especially in the heat that started to stick around in the early afternoons into the evenings. You thought about that again… You’d… Let Caesar see you either way. The vague notion left you more than amused. He must have thought it pretty grotesque what your body was doing to itself in a bid to grow another Human.

The stretching of your skin, the wild-card emotions that you became comfortable letting loose around him, your breasts were unfortunately too big for any of your undergarments and you were unable to find one that was accommodating and you ended up going the last few weeks without one. You could have sworn you’d seen him staring at them, but that could have just been in your mind as ravishing ideas ran through you and rested rather uncomfortably between your legs when Caesar stared at you a bit too long. How you tried to push aside the feeling.

The pestering in the back of your head. Maybe, just the hormones, you tried to convince yourself over and over. You were pregnant, you were alone… It made sense, right? To… Want to be… satisfied? Your thoughts came to a slow stop as you looked down at yourself. Unable to see your feet, you still wiggled your toes like you were able to and sighed deeply. He probably found you unattractive beyond belief.

“Are you… done?” Caesar asked, not shouting but loud enough for you to hear over the waterfall itself. He was close, as you had suspected, his deep baritone coming from the right of you. “Nearly sundown.”

“Yes. Can you toss my blanket on the shore for me to grab?” You asked, waddling yourself out of the water's way and into the open space of the small river that the water trickled into, grasping your hair and wringing it out. That was the rule. He’d throw your blanket on the ground, you’d wrap yourself up in it so he couldn’t see you naked, and you’d dry yourself, re-cloth your body and head back to the Colony, less than a click to the west.

With your arms still in your hair and your eyes shut as you enjoyed the last feelings of water against you, you could hear Caesar moving. Figuring that the blanket had been placed previously, you thought nothing of it and thought that he was just moving out of the way again as to not see you bare. Releasing your hair with a small groan, you opened your eyes and looked at the shore. Green.

Green eyes.

Green eyes staring at you.

Green eyes staring at you while you were naked.

Caesar didn't move. It appeared he was completely frozen, blanket still in his hands and you were flashing him without reserve. If you were able to move quickly, you were sure you would but you found it difficult to do as you wadded through the water with a fast paced waddle. At least, it was fast for you, it probably looked pretty comical to the Ape. Caesar was still frozen, his eyes had drifted downwards towards your chest to linger for a moment before they finally rested right on your bump. Protruding… And not appealing, you groaned internally and clutched the blanket right out of his hand and untangled it.

“Caesar.”

Nothing, he was still looking at your bump as you wrapped the blanket around your shoulders. “Caes--” Your hands were grasped. Actually, it was more or less your wrists and with one swoop, the blanket was pooling at your feet and you brought your knees together for a moment when he caught eyes with you before they trailed right back down your body. Supple breasts, he noted, nice, nice bump, he had only really seen a pregnant human this close to him through the screen of a TV back when he was with Will.

The rounding, dipping between your legs--- Caesar stopped himself at that and trailed his gaze back upwards to rest right on the top of your bump, looking down at it. Being self-conscious finally hit you as you tried to hide yourself away from the judgment he was placing down on you, but Caesar just… Admired. You supposed that was the right word, you had no premonition as to what he was thinking or what he was do---

Without even asking, his hand was placed on you. Not just on you, but on the bump that encased your baby. Right on the underside of it, he drew his hand in as far in as it would go. Shuddering at the chilly nature of his already leathery skin, your eyes widened, mouth ajar as your breathing had picked up.

With your mind racing, you were frantic to look into his eyes to get any idea of what he was thinking, even if it meant you needed to tear his head open just to get a glimpse. Your bottom lip quivered at the feeling, a direct response your body was giving to the fact that you were being touched. No, no… Your knees went weak for a second, but Caesar grasped you with his free hand under your elbow to keep you steady, refusing to relent control on your stomach. You were being caressed.

“I-I’m probably fatter than the Apes get.” You tried to get him to look at you, you tried to get him to say something other than standing defenseless. “I---” Gasping quietly, Caesar moved his hand from the undercarriage to the top where he brushed the pads of his fingers in the most feather-like way he was able to muster. It tickled, but you bit your tongue in a bid to see what he was doing. You knew, oh how you knew now, he wasn’t going to hurt you.

“Have never seen…” He started.

“Yeah, well, we get fat.” You joked again, jolting your shoulders forward for you to cup your arms on top of your bump and shield yourself from his eyes. Before you even had a chance to do that though, Caesar's free hand that had previously been cupping your elbow moved. You had no time to react as he cupped the back of your head and brought it towards his own. Breathless, not due to the baby for once, you swallowed hard, shutting your eyes and let it happen. Caesar’s forehead lightly kissed your own.

Lightly at first, but as he tangled his thick fingers into your hair, he pulled your neck towards his own with a bit more fever, his own eyes squeezing shut at the silent admittance. The hand that was tracing your bump remained, but now was placed on the side. His entire hand spread, finger to finger, across the entire scape of your skin and you sunk into it with a small moan of satisfaction. This… you thought, letting your eyes flutter open for just one moment so you could see him this close to you. This was where you belonged.

Birth. ( Drabble 6. )

The intensity of your screams were not for the faint of heart, and you figured that was the case and shared sentiment of the Female Ape midwives that flanked your entire body, one working diligently between your legs to gauge your dilation. Caesar had known it to be hard for Humans, their babies were much larger than Ape babies and required a lot more pushing and vigor to actually induce birth. Hours, he thought to himself, his eyes tired and red around the edges, his hand, as tough as it had been for years, was nothing more than a swelled appendage from your hand grasping at it so tightly, fingernails digging into the calloused skin when another contraction set in your vision and racked your entire body of all senses.

You were beyond sweating, you felt like you were swimming as Caesar brought his free hand up to wipe some of your wet hair away from your face. His skin felt cold against you, and for that, you leaned your head into the small wave of affection from him before another shot of pain dripped through you relentlessly.

“I can’t do this!” You cried, your knees shaking as the midwife looked at Caesar who only nodded with a hard swallow. They were telling him in silence that you were ready.

“You can.” He assured, but that felt fruitless as you hunched forward, bump contouring all sorts of ways in a very unnatural way that made even Caesar uncomfortable but he was steady fast and refused to leave your side. He knew this, he had been through this with Cornelia… He tried to not linger on that for too long.

Things would be different, he tried to keep optimism alive as the midwife told you verbally that it was time to push. The extrusion on your face caused the Ape King to shut his eyes for a moment as you grunted out, attempting to push the baby from your body to greet the world. Yes… He laxed himself and reached around your entire head to hold onto you as you screamed to the highest heavens, things were going to be different. You… You could do this. You were going to preserver and you would have a new addition to the family that Caesar had already provided for you. He knew he couldn’t cry, not in front of the others, but how he just wanted to take all your pain away. It was hard not to go feral, the simple smell of your blood and sweat were eradicating his entire nose. He didn't dare look down and kept his green gaze focused on the side of your face as he was propped next to you, laying in the nest. “Ohhhh my god!” You jolted with another push, breathing rapidly and it felt like your entire chest was suddenly on fire after being cold for so long. Plunged into an ice bath and then sent to the depths of a volcano. “Caesar!” One more. The midwife signed at Caesar one handed, the other properly braced between your legs.

“You need to give one more,” Caesar said and brought his hand through your hair once more. Swallowing, you felt a shudder run down your spine at the prospect of having to give it more despite giving it your all already. You were being torn in half, someone grasping both legs and pulling with all their might and they wanted you to give more. Strangling a cry out, Caesar brought his forehead down and planted it directly onto yours. “One more…”

As if a robot shocked back to life, Caesar still holding onto your head and moving forward as you braced yourself, you gave it one more as commanded. The sheer terror of your scream faded into the wails of a baby… A… baby… Your mind fogged. Concern swept over the Ape as he grasped the side of your face. “A girl,” He told you, breathing against your cheek and right into your ear, “A girl.”

Repeating that seemed to bring you right back from the trenches as tears flooded down your face, mixing deliciously with the sweat that had fallen from your forehead. Even now, you felt you were unable to breathe as you tried to smile - It was a forced grin of sorts, Caesar could tell that you were still in pain, but the crying of the baby… Caesar finally allowed himself to look down as the midwife was fast to adjust them properly in their arms before drifting upwards carefully to place them against your bare chest.

They were smeared with blood but… His eyes admired their small features. Carbon copies almost of your own when you were scrunched up for sleep. You have done it. You… Grew this… You made this Human and you preserved through the endeavors of birth. You began crying alongside your baby, hands reaching up and grasping at them lightly to keep them close to your chest.

“Girl.” You finally managed to say something, your throat dry and incredibly hoarse. “Girl?” Asking that to your mate, he nodded and brought a hand up to rest against the child's small head.

“Girl.” Caesar confirmed.

Bonus ending:

Blue Eyes… Was incredibly cautious upon hearing the wailing of a human baby to the point where he grasped at Caesar’s chest with his small frame with all his might, his gaze intent on staring down whatever was causing the noise. With a small hush, you got them to quiet down against you, now lightly wrapped in a blanket you had for this very moment.

‘New sister.’ Caesar signed for the Prince, looking at the now newly adorned princess with a soft gaze. ‘Say hello.’ He was still hesitant, but at the urging of Caesar himself as he placed Blue Eyes on the nest by your feet, you both watched in anticipation as the small Chimp moved his way up your body, making eye contact with you in a flurry of affection and happiness that you were still here. It had been an entire day where you and Caesar were gone and he was left to hang with the other Young Apes with Maurice, and he hadn’t the slightest clue where you were until now. Until… He crawled onto your shoulder as he so often did, your eyes shutting for a moment as he played along your hair before his gaze fell to the bundle in your arms.

It was your turn to speak, “Blue,” He looked at you, suddenly frantic at the sound of your voice like he had forgotten, “This is your baby sister… Cedar.”

Bonus Ending ( 2 ):

Three Months Later.

Caesar, in his wildest dreams, never imagined he’d be holding a human baby, let alone the one of his mate. His tender gaze rested on you as you were laying in the nest, wrapped tightly in for a nap with Blue Eyes resting beside you, as he had offered to care for the baby that afternoon when you complained of being adversely tired. He did worry upon his offering that it would be difficult to care for them alone, but he didn't realize just how much they actually slept and Cedar seemed really intent on doing that in the warmth of her Father’s arm.

He drew his gaze down to look at her.

So small, and so gentle… Every day, Caesar thought to himself, she looked more like you. So beautiful.

Was she… Caesar’s brows furrowed for a moment at the curling of the baby’s mouth. She was… Smiling. Right up at him. Familiar, her head tilted towards Caesar’s chest minutely but the movement was there for him as he swallowed hard at the sight.

She smiled at him.

Bonus Ending ( 3 ):

Five Years Later.

“Cedar, you need to get down from that tree right now!” You yelled, looking at the Chimp sitting next to the human, high up off the ground. Well, not that high up. Maybe two or three meters at the most but the idea of a fall was not for the faint of heart as the two young laughed.

‘We climb higher,’ Blue Eyes signed to his sister. ‘That way mom cannot find us.’

There wasn’t any contemplation. Cedar nodded in agreement, grabbing the bark and began her ascent.

“CAESAR!!! OUR SON BROUGHT OUR DAUGHTER INTO A TREE AND I CAN’T GET THEM DOWN! I SWEAR THEY GET THIS UNRULY BEHAVIOR FROM YOUR SIDE OF THE FAMILY!”

#caesar #caesar x reader #planet of the apes #pota #pota x reader #planet of the apes x reader

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