#to this day i still remember the red herring

[cryptwrites]

It started as a joke.

A few of us, sitting around a cheap card table in my crumbling apartment, brainstorming ways to pay rent without actually working. The scam was simple: create a fake religion, prey on the gullible, and rake in some easy cash.

We called it The Order of Cythra, a name pulled out of thin air by my roommate, Toby, who thought it sounded “cryptic and legit.” We scribbled down some nonsense about Cythra being the god of renewal and hidden wisdom, created a website, and bought some dollar-store candles for the “rituals.”

At first, it was harmless fun. A few Reddit posts here, some vague TikToks there, and suddenly we had people donating. Not much—just twenty bucks here and there—but enough to cover bills and groceries.

Then things got... strange.

It started with the emails. Testimonials flooded our inbox from people claiming Cythra had spoken to them in dreams. A woman wrote about how her chronic migraines disappeared after chanting one of our made-up prayers. Another claimed their barren garden had suddenly burst into bloom.

We laughed it off at first. Toby even joked that we should hire a PR agent.

But then the dreams started.

It was always the same. I stood in a vast, desolate wasteland beneath a broiling, blood-red sky. A towering figure loomed in the distance, its body shifting between forms—human, deer, shadow. Its voice echoed in my head, not in words, but in feelings: hunger, anger, and something worse.

One night, I woke up to find the word Cythra carved into my arm, not by my own hand but by something else. I confronted Toby and the others, but their faces were pale. They were worried, like I had done something to them.

We tried to shut it down. Deleted the website, pulled down the TikToks, and stopped all donations. But the followers didn’t go away. If anything, they grew more fervent. They showed up at my apartment, chanting in unison, their eyes glassy and strange. They called me High Priest.

Then the first miracle happened.

One of the followers, a man in his sixties, collapsed on my doorstep during one of their late-night vigils. His heart had stopped. I panicked and reached out to him instinctively, yelling for someone to call 911. The moment my hand touched his chest, I felt a searing heat shoot through my arm. His body jolted, and his eyes snapped open.

The followers fell to their knees.

I slammed the door, trembling, my palm still burning. When I looked, there was a black symbol etched into my skin—a sigil I’d never seen before but somehow understood.

Cythra was real.

The days that followed were a blur. The followers proclaimed me as their leader, and no matter how much I tried to resist, they wouldn’t leave me alone. More people came to me for healing, and each time, the sigil on my palm burned brighter. I didn’t know what I was doing, but it always worked. Broken bones knit together. Tumors withered away. One woman even claimed her blind son could see again.

But with every miracle, I felt a piece of myself slipping away.

The dreams became more vivid. Cythra spoke now, its voice a low rumble that made my teeth ache. It demanded more worshippers, more faith, more sacrifices.

One night, I woke to find Toby standing over my bed, a knife in his hand and a vacant look in his eyes. He muttered something about “offering blood to Cythra.” I fought him off, but he slit his own throat before I could stop him. The followers found his body the next morning and cheered.

They said his death would “bring Cythra fully into our world.”

I tried to run. Packed a bag and fled to the nearest bus station. But as soon as I stepped outside, I saw them— hundreds of followers, all chanting in unison, their faces lit by the flickering of candles. The air was thick with the smell of sulfur.

The ground beneath their feet began to crack.

The last thing I remember before everything went black was the sky splitting open, and a monstrous, shifting form descending from the heavens.

Now I sit on a blackened throne in a temple I never built, my body barely my own. The sigil on my palm has spread, covering my arms, chest, and face. I can no longer close my eyes without seeing its form, nor speak without its words spilling from my mouth like black, molded bile.

I am the High Priest of Cythra, a forgotten god reborn through my foolishness.

And I know, deep down, that when it is finished with this world, it will consume me too.

You started a scam religion for a quick buck. You begin to panic when your fake god was actually a real forgotten one awakened from new worshippers, declared you it's high priest, and granted you the power of healing.

[hcneymooners]

⋆ and i came looking for you.

synopsis: knight!f!characters x fem!reader. men & minors dni.

characters: ambessa, sevika, vi, abby anderson, ellie williams, grayson. 

cw: apocalypse au!, princess!reader, older woman/younger woman, age difference, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, reunion sex, semi-public sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, obsession, pining, forbidden love, protective!reader, protective!knight!characters, vague fantasy nonsense, devotion. this is a drabble.

notes: trying something new. let me know what you think. also i full on was inspired by @s-4pphics + her incredible arranged marriage ellie piece. my head was spinning for hours after reading it. i lowkey am dreaming of it.

the world descends into apocalypse on a sunday morning. you were with her when it happened, laughing with your head tipped back, your eyes crinkling into a scatter of lines. she doesn’t remember what you were saying—if it was a joke, a story, or some terrible card game she kept letting you win.

all she remembers is the wall exploding, a bright flash of white, then red. blood seeping through cracks like light. your scream as the floor fell, the sound of her ribs snapping like children’s bones as she flung herself toward you—only to miss your hand by inches. the castle crumbled, and you were torn away.

a bioweapon, someone at a makeshift shelter tells her later. all she knows is this: she must get back to you.

the world is a wasteland now, and her princess is without her protection. it’s not that you can’t protect yourself—it’s that she is nothing without protecting you.

the shelter is crowded with weeping and the shaky scaffolding of survival. most stare out of the tents with a distant gaze that she understands all too well. she spends her nights clawing through maps and fragments of rumors, breasts heaving against the thin cotton of her nightshirt as she attempts to plot a way back to you. if you are still—no. 

you must be.

they will not let her leave. they speak of safety, of waiting. but she dreams of you. you, in your sheer shift, soft breasts rising and falling with your breath. you, your pouted mouth trembling as you cry, your heavy hips. you, shaking in the throes of nightmares she longs to dispel. and now! look! there she is in this lavish dream.

she dreams of holding your hand, of your body yielding to her touch. of your lips, wet and pliant against hers in a kiss she swore never to speak of again, though now she wishes she had. there you are—the two of you together pressed tightly as you writhe and twist against her fingers her mouth her—

she wakes screaming, the sound feral and raw. she cannot find you. she doesn’t know if you are safe. she begs the gods for mercy, for time, for you to understand why she is late.

they will not let her leave, so she practices for the leaving. she holds water in her mouth until her throat spasms and she spits it up, thick with bile. she practices not breathing. she is preparing her body to endure, for you.

one night, she slips into the lake. the water is black, the moon fractured across its surface. she swims across borders, feet blistered and bloody as she crosses moors and barren landscapes. the world is broken, but her princess is wandering somewhere within it. she hears the wail of a dragon, sees the light of the world’s final stars. your name becomes her mantra, whispered like a prayer. like a long, dizzying spell. 

the nights are long and sharp-edged, predators stalking her shadow. her sword is strapped against her, the weight echoing the feel of your body on her back though it is devoid of your warmth. devoid of the undoing vibration of your laugh.

the woods now. by day, she climbs hills and twists through ancient roots. she remembers your veins, fine as threads beneath your skin, when you were upset with her. sometimes they would just out like birds, overextended. your mouth sharp, your words sharper, but she would press you to her lap and hold you until you softened. she would kiss you until you melted into her arms, your anger spilling away like water over stone.

when she lay with you, it was much like breaking into the earth’s molten core. you were so warm, so forgiving. she remembers your cries, high and breathless, as she brought you to your peak with her hands, her mouth, with toys she had never known before you.

her head swims now, fevered and blurred. she cannot stop. she feels you, a buzzing in her chest. your life runs through her, like a tunnel of bees. they are buzzing, they are a beating against her brain. 

you are close; she knows this. she does not know what is real now, what is simply her hallucinations attempting to keep her comfort. she woke with her lips pressed to the gnarled bark of a tree, believing it to be your skin. she wept in her solitude.

but there—a cave. she digs and claws at its walls, sobbing when nothing yields. she considers the blade at her side, the gods above, but the buzzing grows louder. you are here. you must be. please let her in please let her please let her in please let her in.

she carves through stone with her grief, and the wall finally gives way. a boulder shifts, light spills through, and she stumbles into your sanctuary.

she drags her body through. closes the mechanism because she is respectful of you always. she sees runes glowing upon it, and understands that it is both the gods that have admitted her and prevented her from finding you. she is angry. she lets it go.

the cave is alive. a meadow unfurls before her, wild and endless beneath a fractured sky. lightning laces the clouds, but you have never feared storms. not fire, not water, not the end of the world. you refuse to bend. she hears the splash of water, and she is running again, faster than she thought possible.

she jolts forward, a broken toy with a rusted weapon and almost tumbles down the grass. she is running. she is running. her heart plods along like a horse, her breath comes quickly and harshly. 

she runs until she is at the face of your cottage. it is beautiful, it is of stone. it is glowing with a thousand stars or maybe this is her hallucinations again (it is not.) she is hungry, but she must consume you before food sullies her body. 

she stumbles to the back of the house and finds wild dogs cavorting, sees an empty chair. she keeps running, faster now. she knows you are there. 

the lake is green and blue and true, and there you are, standing at its center. your hair is braided—she smiles despite herself, remembering how much you hated the task. your body glistens with water, bare and radiant. your nipples hard and pointed from the cold. she calls your name. your neck almost snaps as you look for her, hands trembling and half-raised.

silence. you see her and she sees you and you, in your softness, begin to cry. you are floundering, attempting to come to her but she is still running. toward you now. toward you.

she is running, shedding her sword, her shirt, her past. she dives into the water, her body cutting through it like a blade. the sword sinks into the shallow beginnings of the lake and clatters against the rocks. she too, is now bare, body older and scarred, and the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. she dives, disappears which distresses you, and then comes up for air as she arcs through the water like a serpent of a myth. 

her hair is wet and slick against her forehead. you laugh, a wet warbling thing, and clap your hands over your mouth neck body. you need to touch her. 

you collide beneath the surface, chest to spine, limbs tangled.  the two of you are all twisted. when you break through, gasping, your hands find her face. her arms wrap around your thighs, lifting you from the water as her mouth claims yours. you taste salt and earth and honey, the residue of her journey.

you kiss her and kiss her and she is kissing you. she is holding you. she pulls way only to capture your mouth again, her tongue almost brutish as it bullies its way inside you. her hands dip beneath the water to cup your cunt. you are so wet and you cannot tell if it is all because of the water but you know all of it is because of her.

princess, she murmurs against your lips, her voice trembling with reverence.

her fingers slip inside, fucking you viciously. she is desperate to relearn, to feel you fall apart. your mouth is open, but there is no noise. you can hear birds shrieking, singing. maybe there is noise; maybe you are what you are hearing.

princess, she rumbles against you. princess. she keeps her rhythm, bounces you until your cunt is spasming and you melt against her—into her. you are crying and you feel good and beautiful and good. her name spills from your mouth as she milks you—relentlessly.

and you want to touch her too so you pull her from the water and push her onto shore. you spread her legs, thick and large, and lap at her cunt. she is pink inside, like turkish delight, but doubly sweeter.

her musk lures you in, and you suck, holding her to your mouth even though she snaps and shudders and cries. eventually, the pleasure becomes pain, so you release her, her juices slinking along your chin and collar bones.

you look wild; you look like a diety unknown. she is here with you, she has done it. she has held to her vow of protection—of following you for eternity. the foliage around her seems to surge and she cries anew, her grief and satisfaction coalescing into one bright burning star. you lay against her, feel your hearts exchange places. they crawl inside one another’s bodies, wet and red. 

princess, she croaks wetly.

you raise yourself, hover above her. your hair is loose; it hangs over her face. it blocks the sky; you are now her sun. as always. as was meant to be.

princess, she repeats. princess.

your mouth opens, your teeth gleam. you are smiling. this is real life. you are smiling. you are speaking. from your plush lips come the divine words, 

my knight. 

© hcneymooners.

[makeitmakesomesense]

Rarely

Natasha Romanoff x Reader + WandaNat x Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: Day 7: I've merged a lovely request from a lovely friend with the @taylorswiftmicrofic prompt for the 7th of January, which is 'alpha'.

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‘Is this seat free?’ 

You could tell from her voice. The confidence, the heat behind it. You could just tell.

.

‘Sure.’ You gave a shy smile and hurried to clear the tray with empty mugs that cluttered the table. 

Her hand brushed your wrist. 

‘Let me?’ She offered, taking the tray and walking it back to the coffee shop counter.

Your stomach did nervous flips as you watched her walk away. 

She’d left her leather jacket hanging over the back of the seat opposite you. Underneath was a white tank top. Her long red braid found a space between her toned shoulder blades. 

You watched her lean over the counter to the barista and order something new. Her smile was quick and easy to appear. She was making the barista laugh. Her ear piercings glittered under the lights as she laughed too. 

You pressed your tongue hard against your teeth and tried not to look nervous as she walked back. 

You only noticed the second mug when she put it down in front of you. 

‘I got you the same as before.’ Her voice rasped.  ‘As a thank you.’

‘Oh.’ You stammered unsurely. ‘You didn’t need to thank me for that.’ 

The woman leaned back against her seat, her posture far too relaxed for the hard backed seat. Her head tilted and she smiled. She shrugged and took a sip from her own drink. 

You dragged your focus down to the book you were supposed to be reading. You could barely make out the blur of words on the page. You bit your lip and willed yourself to think about the story you’d been enjoying until a few minutes ago. You were just sharing a table, it didn’t mean anything.

At last, you finally immersed yourself back in the story. You lost track of time, before suddenly remembering the coffee that you hadn’t got to yet. You reached out absentmindedly. The back of your hand brushed someone else’s. You startled immediately. 

A gentle touch guided your hand to your own coffee mug. 

‘That one’s yours.’ She told you, her eyes sparkling with obvious enjoyment.

‘Right.’ You swallowed nervously, throat suddenly too tight to even try to take a sip. 

‘My name’s Natasha.’ The woman told you then. 

‘Y/N’ 

It took a moment for you to realise her hand was still touching yours. Your breathing went shallow. She was leaning forward in the white tank top.

‘Natasha.’ You repeated dumbly.

Her head tilted as she waited for you to say something else. You tried to think of something, anything to say, anything else to focus on.  Your eyes caught on the dangling trinket close to the area you were trying not to stare at.

‘I like your necklace.’ You said lamely. Natasha’s eyes crinkled with pleasure. Her thumb brushed the back of your hand. 

(You went home with her.)

.

It was easy to follow Natasha. She was the alpha type. Her shoulders always relaxed, a smile ready whenever she wanted it. A look in her eyes that promised to tell you everything. 

You didn’t worry about making it anything official. You wanted to like how easy it was.

Sometimes she’d call and meet you some place. The boardwalk, a museum. You’d spend the afternoon together and enjoy the simplicity of it all. Walking with her arm around your shoulders and her fingers draped for you to play with absentmindedly. The soft squeeze of affection when you said something that made her laugh. 

She remembered your coffee order, from that first day. She’d rattle it off along with her own in cafes and restaurants, like it was second nature to her. 

You learned how to use the coffee machine in her apartment. How to run your fingers through her hair and kiss her at the crack of dawn, so she’d stay patiently in bed and wait for you to come back with two hot mugs. 

.

Everything was easy with Natasha. Until it wasn’t.

.

You met Wanda on a Friday evening. She broke your heart. 

You knocked on Natasha’s door, wondering if she might be free.

A beautiful redhead answered. Not the one you’d been expecting. 

You heard the words come out of your mouth. 

‘Is Natasha in?’

You looked at the woman, long hair rumpled and in nothing but an oversized shirt. A shirt you’d borrowed once before. 

She opened her mouth to answer. 

You didn’t wait to hear it. You left with tears of embarrassment and hurt already streaming down your cheeks. 

You ignored your phone the next time Natasha called. And the next. 

It was embarrassing. It was meant to be easy. There’d been no rules with Natasha. It wasn’t her fault you’d caught feelings.

.

You went to your favourite cafe the next day, trying to shake off the moroseness that you’d woken up with. 

The barista smiled at the sight of you. She made your order before you asked for it. That was something. 

You found a table in the back corner, took out your book and tried to reset. You lost yourself in someone else’s story.

‘Is this seat taken?’

You could tell from her voice. The confidence, the heat behind it. 

It was Natasha. Your stomach twisted with panic. You closed your book and rested it on the table.

You looked up and met her gaze. The easy smile was long forgotten. Her stare was heavy. Her brow creased in worry. 

‘I don’t think that’s a good idea.’ You said carefully.

‘Please.’ She tried again, voice gentle. Her fingertips brushed the edge of the table.

You felt yourself start to tremble as tears threatened. You tried not to look at her.

‘It’s just.’ You started shakily. ‘It’s just - I think I like you a lot more than you like me.’

There was a pause. Then, you felt Natasha’s hand cover your own, still resting on the cover of your book. She brushed the back of your hand more softly than you had ever been touched before.

‘I don’t think that’s true.’ She murmured. ‘Not at all.’

You met her stare and wondered if anything was true. You wondered if it was wrong to trust someone because of the way they touched you.

You swallowed again and nodded once.

‘Okay, you can sit.’

Natasha did.

She talked about the things you didn't know. The things she should've told you. It was simple when she laid it out. Not complicated or cruel. 

She loved Wanda and Wanda loved her.

They were happy, the easy kind of happy that comes along rarely. 

You nodded when Natasha said that, feeling an imaginary knife twist inside you.

Natasha paused for a moment. 

‘Rarely.’ She said carefully, her fingers finding yours again hesitatingly. They tangled together in a way that made your heart thump loudly. ‘Rarely doesn’t mean just once.’

They were looking for something else. Someone else. Natasha had met you and known immediately. It was hard to know how to ask. How to explain the situation. 

Sadness tugged at Natasha’s gentle smile.

‘That’s why she was there. We wanted to tell you. We wanted to ask you then.’

For the first time, you watched Natasha hesitate. She took a deep breath, trying to find the words.

You leaned forward. You let your thumb brush the back of her hand. 

‘Tell me about her?’ You asked softly.

Natasha’s eyes closed for a second, she squeezed your hand gently. A small smile appeared on her face again.

‘I don’t know where to start.’ 

You thought about the woman you’d seen for the briefest moment. Your instant recognition of her undeniable beauty. The calmness that had radiated from her. The obvious empathy in her eyes that had stung so badly before. 

Natasha hesitated and then she asked more tentatively than ever.

‘Would you - Would you like to meet her?’

.

Wanda entered the cafe with a clear nervous tension. She scanned the room for a moment until her gaze met yours. She gripped the strap of her handbag tightly.

You smiled shyly and watched her loosen with sudden relief. You gave a small wave and watched her fingers loosen immediately to return the gesture. 

You felt Natasha’s pleased attention shifting between you as Wanda walked towards the table. She walked with a simple poise that you could tell was natural. Her long auburn hair was gathered into a claw clip at the back of her head.

She took the vacant seat next to Natasha. 

Wanda looked at you, with a kind of intensity you’d never experienced before. Then, she gave you a hesitating, hopeful smile. 

‘Hi.’ She said, glancing to Natasha beside her for reassurance. Her shoulders relaxed again when she met Natasha’s smile.

‘Hi.’ You replied, skin humming with anticipation. Your fingers tapped nervously on the cover of your book.

Wanda glanced down at the new drinks already on the table; Natasha had brought them over moments before. 

She looked at the mug of hot tea waiting for her, and then the coffee sitting beside you.

‘You like coffee?’ Wanda asked uncertainly, clearly trying to find a piece of conversation to begin with.

You smiled. You glanced at Natasha and then back at her. You reached for your mug and brought it to your lips. You shrugged.

‘Yes. But I like tea too.'

.

(You went home with them.)

You already knew how to use the coffee machine at their apartment. How to run your fingers through their hair and kiss them at the crack of dawn, so they'd stay patiently in bed and wait for you to come back with three hot mugs. 

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Requests are still very welcome for future January fics. More info in the pinned post if you're interested in requesting. <3

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[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

P*rn ☆  Chapter 4, Raw, next question

Masterlist Word count: 1.8 k Sylus x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have been following a spicy content creator by the name of Red Crow for some time now. Nothing could’ve prepared you for what would happen when he moves into the apartment next door.

Author's note: Here we go babes! I hope ya'll like it. I am going to be very busy this weekend and part of next week, so I'll leave ya'll with this for the upcoming few days. Lots of love <3

Warning! This story is meant for mature audiences. It contains sex, swear words, porn, smoking, intimate piercings, mentions of drugs, alcohol, and other mature themes. Do not engage if you are under 18.

Mature content under the cut.

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

It's not like you to forget about watching a Red Crow video, but it totally slipped your mind after Tara started suggesting different single guys to you. Seems like she's known Sylus for a while and isn't stoked about the idea of you liking him. For some reason, that gets you going even more. 

Sure, could be that he is a disturbed individual, but you figure it has more to do with his cold demeanor. It almost sounded like she was talking you out of talking to him again after her offer to give him your number. Almost like she suddenly remembered something. Could it be that she also knows about what he does? If that's the case, she's less innocent that you thought she was. 

Either way, she kept you busy until there was a knock at the door and you realized it was already 2 am. No wonder you had been getting sleepy. 'I'll get it,' you offer, you brain fried once more but this time the sleepiness is to blame. Tara giggles in response. 

You expected Kieran to come knocking so that Tara could drive him home. Instead, Sylus leans over you once more when you open the door, one hand on the top of the doorframe the other in his pocket. He's incredibly close, closer than one normally is when knocking on someone's door. Is he doing this on purpose?  

The smell of whiskey and cigarettes hang around him like a cloud, mixing in with his cologne to create the most intoxicating smell you've ever smelled. His shirt is a little more unbuttoned than it was before and there's a slight pink tint to his cheeks. You figure he's drunk or close to drunk. 

But then he speaks, and he sounds stone cold sober: 'Hey, can you tell Tara Kieran is sleeping over. He is in no state to move.' 

'What happened to “taking it easy”,' Tara shouts from the couch. Sylus stands up a little straighter, removing his hand from the doorframe, and looking over top of me to Tara on the couch. He grins slyly. 

'Nothing we haven't done before.' She hops off the couch and rushes over, looking slightly agitated. 

'Sylus, that can refer anywhere from a gross shot to LSD,' she snaps at him. He leans down over her like he just had with me. Her eyes widen ever so slightly, and it almost looks like her hair is puffing up like an angry cat. Suddenly, you understand why she might've wanted to curb your interest in Sylus but the teasing tone that slips from his lips so easily gets you fucking going. Without really noticing it, you bite your lip for no more than a second while your thighs rub together. 

He notices though. His eyes flicker over to you for just a second and his grin widens ever so slightly. 'No drugs. I quit that stuff. He's just very drunk.' Tara groans. 'You can check if you want.' 

'I will,' she snaps as she pushes past the two of you and quickly disappears into Sylus’ apartment. 

And suddenly, you are harshly reminded what happened the last time you and Sylus were alone. Reminded of that video that you still haven't fully watched. The first few seconds are engraved in your memory. Sylus, completely dressed with his hand slowly rubbing over the tent in his pants, low groans leaving his lips. 

When you look up at him again, you swear he knows exactly what's going on in your mind. There's that sly grin on his lips again. 'Having a fun night?' 

'Oh, fuck you,' you groan, and feel yourself puff up like Tara had as you cross your arms with an annoyed expression on your face. If he knows, you might as well cuss him out for it. He deserves as much, and he seems to like it as a rich laugh slips from his lips. 

He leans even closer, still towering over you with his eyes focused on yours. You feel your cheeks and ears heat up like you've just shoved your head against a space heather. 'You know who I am,' he states. You can almost feel your attitude melt like snow thrown on a fire as you nod.  

'You know what I do,' his voice is gravely, low, seductive. He's enjoying this. You nod again. No more snow, only fire. Fire in your loins and in your fucking ovaries. You are going to burst. He moves in even closer. 

'Use your words, sweetie.' One of his two signature pet names for his audience. Your panties are soaked, your blood is boiling, and your attitude is back. Because, if he keeps this going, you two will be down and dirty right here in your doorway. Ain't no way you're letting Tara see you in that state. 

'Back the fuck up before I jump your bones.' Maybe you should've just said the first part. His confidence wafers for a second before he realizes what you mean. He’s even closer now, his lips next to your ear, voice barely above a whisper. 

'Did you like what you did to me?' 

'Kieran is passed out,' Tara loudly announces before peaking her head around the corner. Before she can, Sylus moves back and crosses his arms, looking like he's bored out of his mind while you are bright red in the face. 'Sylus, help me get him in the car. We have plans tomorrow.' 

'Yes ma’am.' 

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

3 am. The world outside is quiet, just like Sylus likes it. Kieran was a real pain to get in the car but at least he gets to listen to some records on his own now. Luke had left long before but Kieran always sticks. Sylus can only hope he'll be awake enough to walk into Tara's apartment when they get there. 

Today had been interesting to say the least. He hasn't been this risky in a long time, teasing someone who clearly knows who he is. Could be a very awkward situation in the future if she ever grows over her lust for him, but for now he's fine. This could be a fun little game between the two of them. No one else needs to know, but what if he just films his content after he's seen her. Like how he did today. 

Short conversation, make a video wearing what she saw him in, turn her on so he can listen to her sweet little moans pierce through the thin walls. He does need to keep his schedule though, otherwise it'd be too suspicious. On the other hand, no one would complain about an extra video occasionally. 

The soft thud of the needle bumping off his record pulls Sylus out of his trance. The room is suddenly awfully silent. Then, he hears it. 

The softest of whimpers. 

He turns off the record player and walks into his room curiously. The sound is coming from the air extractor fan in the bathroom, just as it had this afternoon. The shower isn't running and your noises sound farther away, so it's possible that you're in your bedroom with the bathroom door open. 

"Is she doing this on purpose," Sylus questions as he stands in the middle of his bathroom, listening to the sounds you make while his dick starts to strain against his pants. "Would she hear it if I did the same thing?" 

His curiosity quickly gets the better of him. Just for good measure, he quickly sets up his phone to record on top of the toilet reservoir and presses record. Then, he moves to lean against the sink cabinet, his head thrown back as he rubs over the fabric of his pants, just as he had this afternoon. 

He hears a particularly lewd moan and prays to the gods above his phone picked the sound up. His hand moves to his zipper and he undoes himself skillfully and fast. He takes his dick out of his boxers, not bothering to take his pants off. It's hard as a fucking rock and already leaking with just those little sounds. 

"What is this woman doing to me?"  

Lazily, he starts stroking his dick. Soft groans and moans slipping from his lips, suppressed in an attempt to still hear you through the vents. Then the prettiest picture slips into his mind. 

You, laying on your back in his bed, naked. Heels planted on his mattress, legs spread, hands lazily pulling on the hair on the back of his head. That beautiful blush on your cheeks, looking desperate and longing for release while he drives his length into you. The little sounds you make, so much louder when he's this close, so much more beautiful. Your eyes focused on him and only him. 

His hand starts moving faster, chocking his dick ever so slightly while his other hand grips the sink, knuckles turning white. An animalistic sound leaves his throat, a sound he's never made before. Something like a chocked growl. 

God, that image. He'd lean in closer, wrap his arms around your body to pull you closer, his lips exploring the expanse of your neck and shoulders while your nails leave trails on his back. One of his hands would leave your body, move to your little bud of nerves to help you reach ecstasy. 

Another growl leaves his throat, louder this time. He's getting so close after so little time. Is this really all because of you? Because some pretty girl showed interest in him? He's not sure, but the picture in his mind keeps getting more and more realistic. His eyes screw closed, head leaning forward now, his breathing heavy. 

He'd sit down on his heels, pull you onto his lap and hold you close to his chest, as close as humanly possible, while picking up the pace and drilling into you. Your pretty little moans would get louder, would morph into his name so beautifully strewn out on your tongue, barely recognizable to anyone but him. And you'd bite his collarbone. The pain and pleasure of the whole thing tipping him over the edge, his hands bruising your skin, serving you the same mixture to help you fall into the abyss with him. 

Hot ropes of cum lay on the tiles in front of Sylus while he tries to catch his breath. He doesn't hear your voice anymore, so you must be done as well. 

"What the hell just happened?" 

He steadies himself and grabs his phone from the toilet reservoir, stopping the recording. Before he can throw the thing to the side again, he gets a notification on his video from this afternoon. When he opens it, the name and profile picture look awfully familiar. It's you, there's no denying it. His lips pull into a grin when he reads your comment. 

"Raw, next question." 

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[holdmytesseract]

Hii! It’s me again, back at it with another request (your writing is just so good! I can’t get enough of it).

So this is another dad!Daryl one, one where the reader is pregnant. So we know that some of the Saviours in season 9 didn’t particularly like Daryl because of everything that happened. What if a couple of the Saviours cornered the reader and kidnapped her, taking her to some place to keep her in. Daryl, naturally, is seeing red and will do just about anything to get her back. Angst with a happy ending.

Love you if you write this, love you if you don’t! 💜

What I do, I do for You

Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader

Summary: When two Saviors kidnap you - Daryl's pregnant wife - in order to score him off, the archer sees red and does everything to safe you... Everything.

Set in Season 9!

Warnings: Lots of bad stuff is happening, so please act with caution! usual TWD stuff, a lot of angst, pregnancy stuff, violence, blood, character death, murder, brief mentions of rape, FLUFF, Justin & Jed (yep, they're a warning), please tell me if I missed something!

Also, protective!Daryl alert. He goes absolutely feral.

Word Count: 6.9k

a/n: @dixons-sunshine I really hope that I could do your request justice. 🙏🏼 I loved to write it and tried to give my absolute best. 🧡

EoH Masterlist °☆• Daryl Masterlist °☆• Masterlist

"Ya sure 'bout that?" Your husband asked with a tinge of concern and fear in his voice. "Ya really wanna come?" You gave him a smile and stepped closer; invading his space. "Positive. I am drop-dead serious about it," you announced and raised your hands to his chest; adjusting the lapels of his angel-winged vest. "I absolutely hate it when you're away and I'm alone in Alexandria... Especially now..." Your gaze fell onto your yet small baby bump; Daryl's blue-greyish eyes following.

He couldn't suppress the soft smile on his lips, neither the quickening of his heartbeat. The man who had lost more in his whole life than he had won, had still a hard time to believe that he actually wasn't dreaming. That this was real. You. The 'wedding band' around your ring finger. The life he was granted to spend with you. Or hence, the new life growing inside you. Him, becoming a father. It was too good to be true. Daryl had to pinch himself on a regular basis, and still questioned himself how a man like him deserved something so precious. Luckily, you were always here to erase the bad thoughts ghosting through his mind... And to remember him how valuable he was to you - and to all the people around you whom you called family.

"A'right. 'M gonna take ya with me to the Sanctuary. Yer maybe right. Best way ta protect ya 's keepin' ya close to me I s'ppose," he agreed in the end and leaned forward to bestow a lingering kiss on your forehead. You smiled. "Thank you so much, baby. You won't regret it, I swear."

"I know, sunshine," he finally answered; his voice huskily with emotion. From the both hands resting on your hips traveled one to the front of your body; gently cupping the bump which was his child. "But 'm not sure..." You pouted. "Please, Dar... I don't want to miss you... And we both know I'd be the safest within your presence."

The archer chewed on the inside of his bottom lip for a long moment; contemplating his next words.

Oh, how wrong the both were going to be...

Barely two days later, you and Daryl made your way to the Sanctuary. Not on his bike, though. The archer had made that clear the moment you and him left the basement apartment you called home. "Hell nah. We ain't takin' the bike. 'S outta question. 'Specially in yer condition," your husband had said, causing you to roll your eyes with a smile. Sure, you understood him and got his point, but you were also aware that this wasn't a 'condition'. You were pregnant. Not sick. And besides, not even that far along. About four months was Siddiq's guess.

Of course, you hadn't even tried to reason with the archer; knowing already that you'd fight a battle you couldn't win. So, you had followed him without a word to one of Alexandria's cars - certainly not horse; Daryl would rather walk than riding on a horseback, even if it would take him days to get to his destination on foot - and were now comfortably seated in the passenger seat. Daryl steered the car to the place you actually still despised deep down in your heart; not having forgotten the things Negan and the Saviors had done. What they had taken and almost took from you.

A few former Saviors were out and about. Most of them tending to the crops and other things planted in the makeshift gardens. The lot of them greeted you and Daryl with respect; some even gave a smile, but others... If looks could kill. The coldness and hate in theirs eyes sent a shiver down your spine. Of course you knew that some Saviors didn't quite... appreciate the mercy you showed them, neither the things you did for them. They were still hanging on to Negan. Daryl knew as well - and he didn't tolerate them. Unfortunately, he had to. At the end of the day, he bent and listened to his brother; being faithful and loyal.

You passed by lots of beautiful places on your way; proofs that mother nature had taken back what belonged to her. But you also saw a lot of rotting corpses trudging and staggering down the abandoned streets, meadows and woods. Life and death battling over the world domination. Nobody would've seen it coming that the line between decay and reincarnation was going to be that thin at some point - and here we were.

"Ya a'right, sunshine?" Daryl's deep, but comforting and definitely slightly worried voice urged suddenly to your ears. You blinked and tried to refocus again. You didn't notice that you had your head in the clouds; lost in thoughts. Neither did you notice that Daryl had parked and turned off the engine of the car. "Uh, yeah, sure. Sorry. Just spaced out a bit." Daryl nodded and gave you a last look, before he opened the car door and moved to get out of his seat. "C'mon. We're here."

It was strange to be back at the Sanctuary. Only the mere look at the huge, old factory caused an uneasy feeling to spread within your stomach. And you could tell that Daryl wasn't quite at ease either. How could he? After all he had to go through here... After all the traumatizing experiences...

"Daryl." A blond woman approached the two of you. Your eyes scanned her face; realizing that you knew her. Laura - if you remembered correctly. The archer jutted his chin into her direction; silently addressing her. The both of them started to talk. Something about the crops and an incident with a 'living' walker as a scarecrow. You didn't pay fully attention to your husband and the former Savior, since you could clearly feel a pair of eyes on you. In search for them, you looked to your left; meeting eyes with a man. Tall, longer black hair and a beard. He was quite a few yards away from you but you could clearly tell that he was the one watching you.

You blinked and waved it off. It was most likely 'cause he had never seen you before.

"Let's get our stuff inside. 'S gettin' dark soon." Your husband's voice caused you to redirect your attention. "Yeah..." You nodded; still a bit absentmindedly, and followed Daryl inside the building.

He led you down several corridors, until you reached a spacious room with a bed, attached bathroom and a few other basic things. While Daryl put down his backpack and your bag alongside his beloved crossbow, you sat down on the bed; feeling a dull ache in your feet. "Ya okay, darlin'?" Of course, Daryl noticed immediately. His senses seemed to be even sharper since you told him about the pregnancy. You nodded. "Sure, Dar. Just some swollen feet." He gave you one of those cute, little smiles you adored so much. "Guess yer in for a foot rub tonight then."

It was the fourth day you spent at the Sanctuary. Daryl tried his best to be around you as much as somehow possible, but unfortunately, there was a lot of work to do for the 'leader'. So, you just decided to stay around him. Luckily, you had a few books packed and you'd always find a comfortable seat - no matter where. You just felt safer when your husband was close, and you could tell that it was much appreciated by him that he could throw a watchful eye on you from time to time.

Daryl wasn't the only one who had his eyes on you, though... Day after day, you could feel the unpleasant stare of that man who already had watched you at the day you set foot here... Justin, like you got to know. He didn't let a single opportunity slip to eye you. It was highly uncomfortable and quite confusing. You didn't know why he was doing what he did. It wasn't like you knew each other. You never even had exchanged a single word! Yet he was always looking... And when you'd catch him, he just gave you a little smirk - what didn't make you feel any better.

After day two, you just accepted it and tried to brush it off and ignore it. You didn't dare to confront the man. If you weren't pregnant, you wouldn't have even give it a second thought and walked straight up to your 'stalker', but... You were pregnant and didn't want to risk anything.

And telling Daryl wasn't an option in your eyes either. He was already so occupied and definitely way more on edge now that he was back at this former hellhole. This wouldn't end well; you knew it.

"You gotta come! Reilly and Mark are fighting. They're yelling at each other like kindergartners!" Daryl scoffed. "Dun care. They can handle their shit alone." The Savior standing opposite you frantically shook his head. "Man, if you don't intervene, this is gonna escalate! They're gonna beat each other up - or worse! You know how they are!" The archer groaned and rolled his eyes. Unfortunately was that idiot right. He couldn't let this escalate, even if he didn't care if it did. He had silently promised Rick to keep this place sane and running, so... "Fine," he finally answered, and turned to you. "Ya gonna find the way alone, sunshine?" You nodded, and placed a hand on his chest with a soft smile. "Of course. Go. I'll be waiting for you in bed. I'm tired." Your husband nodded and gave your hip a soft squeeze; an apologizing look on his face. He didn't want to leave you alone - but knew he had to. Turning on his heel, he followed the Savior and vanished around the corner.

"Dixon!" You flinched at the sudden, unanticipated voice of a man echoing down the corridor you and Daryl just walked through. You were actually on your way back to your room; ready to call it a day. Well, apparently not...

The archer stopped and turned; you both witnessing Dean - a Savior, of course, sprint around the corner. "Dixon!" "Wha'?" Daryl snarled in annoyance. He have had enough of that day. All he wanted was to disappear in that room and not leave it - and you, until tomorrow.

"Hello, Y/N."

You sighed and gazed behind you down the empty corridor, as you felt a flutter within your belly. You smiled; placing a palm underneath your baby bump, which was well hidden since you wore way too big, but comfortable clothes from the day you got here. "I know, munchkin. Daddy's gonna be back soon. Let's go to bed. We could both use some sleep," you talked to your unborn baby quietly; the smile never leaving your lips.

Everything was eerily quiet. Well, no wonder. It was quite late and most of the Saviors were already sleep, you reckoned. Hopefully me too, soon, you thought; pushing down the door handle and opening the door to yours and Daryl's room. You switched on the light - thanks to the generators.

An unknown voice suddenly urged to your ears; causing you to flinch and almost stumble right back out of the room again. You spun around to seek out the origin of the voice; finding the man who had watched you for days sitting on that one chair in the corner of the room with a smirk on his face. You swallowed hard.

"Justin, right?" You tried to sound brave, even though you had a very uneasy feeling brewing within your gut. "What are you doing here? Can I, um, help you?"

Justin's smirk widened. "Oh yes, indeed. You can help me... Close the door, love. I wanna talk." You did what he said and slowly closed the door, but your hand kept gripping the handle - just in case.

"I have never see you before," he started. "Surely we both crossed paths before without knowing - blame it to the war." "Most likely, yeah..." You answered. Justin shook his head and let his eyes wander over your body again. You felt like a piece of meat. "You're a true sight for sore eyes, Y/N... What a shame..." You frowned. "Shame?" The black haired man nodded. "It's a shame you have such low standards and waste your time on a man like Dixon. You are his girl, aren't you?" Your frown deepened at his words; feeling anger bubble up inside you.

Just as you wanted to speak up, the Savior cut you off. "Or... Wait... Are you just his little toy? An occasional fuck? God, how pathetic," he laughed to himself. "What do you get in return? Protection? Food? A shelter? Or are you doing it for free? His dick that good?"

Your jaw almost dropped at the foul words leaving Justin's mouth. He definitely went to far. You've had enough. Nobody threw mud at Daryl like that. Nobody. You were not having it.

"I'm his wife! I-" "His wife?" Justin cut you off once more; laughing. "So this is some serious shit, huh? Wow... Never thought a guy like Dixon could pull such a hot girl like you. You're too good for him, you know," the man said with a dramatic sigh and pulled himself up from the chair. With calculated steps, he crossed the room - and the predatory smirk he wore on his lips, made you feel even more uneasy than you already felt. "You certainly deserve..." Justin licked his lips. "...better."

The Saviors eyes widened, "Fucking hell... He... He knocked you up?" and he laughed. "You're dumber than I thought." Justin shook his head; still smiling amused. "We're witnessing the fucking end of this shit show called life," he gestured around himself. "And you don't know better than get pregnant with that asshole's bastard child."

You swallowed hard and took a step back, feeling your back pressing against the door; grip on the handle still painfully tight. "N-No, I don't. Daryl is more than enough. H-He treats me right." "He treats you right?" Justin asked mockingly, "Aww, how cute." and chuckled. "What if I told you that other men could treat you so much better?" He whispered in a low voice and reached out a hand to cup your chin with his thumb and forefinger.

Your heartbeat quickened; pumping adrenaline through your whole body in fear. Your primal instinct to run already knocked against the door to your brain, but another instinct was stronger just yet... Protecting your baby. So, out of instinct, your free arm wrapped around your baby bump, before you could even stop yourself - and it didn't escape Justin's notice, of course. Your well kept secret suddenly wasn't a secret anymore.

The last sentence was the straw that broke the camel's back. Insulting the husband of an expectant mother wasn't wise. But insulting the child of an expectant mother was suicide.

It was the whistle which sealed your fate.

Before the rational part of your brain could intervene, did your palm already collide with Justin's cheek; slapping him hard.

A soft groan of pain left his lips as he stumbled back. His hand immediately rubbing the now stinging skin. "You bitch!" The Savior exclaimed angrily. "Alright, that's enough." Justin stomped back over to you and already reached out his hand to grasp your wrist, but your instincts kicked in again. This time, they told you to run. So, you did.

Quickly opening the door, you stormed outside and wanted to flee - but you unfortunately didn't get far.

Suddenly another Savior appeared in the corridor ahead of you - and you immediately stopped. Frantically turning around and searching reverently for a way to escape, you soon figured out that there was no way out. One man in front of you, Justin coming up behind you. And in the blink of an eye, you found yourself in the same situation like seconds earlier - just that it was way worse now. Pressed against the wall; trying to shield your unborn child from any possible harm and danger. "P-Please, don't p-please..." You begged for mercy, but it was no use. The men just laughed; having you cornered. "Not so brave anymore, are we?" Justin snickered. Tears stung your eyes. "T-The baby, p-please..." You whispered through tears; feeling your knees buckle and almost give in from underneath you. Silently, you prayed to every God and higher force, that Daryl would walk around the corner now.

He didn't.

"Get her. We're gonna make that asshole pay." It was the last thing you heard, before the other man lashed out. You felt a throbbing pain in your skull and within seconds went everything black.

Grumbling in annoyance, Daryl made his way finally back to yours and his quarters. To solve the stupid, boyish conflict between those two primitive idiots took longer than he thought it would. It got him even more tired than he already was. All the archer wanted was to sleep with you safely in his arms.

However, when he reached your shared room he found the door ajar; causing his heart rate to quicken on an instant. Without wasting even a second, he literally stormed in - only to find the room empty and deafeningly quiet.

"Y/N?!" He called out, but didn't receive an answer. "Y/N?!" In a frenzy of panic, Daryl started to search for you. To his sheer horror, he couldn't find you. Fear and the nagging feeling of guilt and failure already eating away at him. He swore to protect you. You felt safe whenever he was around - and now he had failed you; failed to protect you and his unborn child. Whatever happened to you, Daryl could tell that it wasn't something good. This was the Sanctuary, after all. This hellhole was worse than what laid behind the gates.

Nevertheless, he hoped to find you unscathed, and that all of this was just a big misunderstanding.

Of course... He should've think of that. Jed was - among a few others - a Savior, who didn't quite like how things went down. Negan being defeated... Rick's plan to 'convert' them to be better people... Daryl taking over the Sanctuary... It didn't suit their plans. Daryl knew they hated it - and they hated him. So, why wouldn't Jed - or hence, any of them, do something to get at him? And what was the best way to inflict pain to somebody? Exactly. By hurting someone the person loves.

Life didn't treat the archer kind - of course. You were nowhere to be found. Not in the kitchens, the sanitary rooms, nor the common room; his next destination being the gardens.

"Daryl?" A female voice suddenly urged to his ears - not yours, though. So, he simply ignored it. "Daryl?" Laura stepped into his view. She was on watch and saw her visibly distraught 'leader'. "What the hell is wrong? You run around like a mad man. What are you looking for?"

The archer froze in his movements for a moment; breathing labored. "Y/N. Can't find 'er. Somethin' happened to 'er. Someone took 'er. I'm sure 'a it," he spoke in a low, deep voice. Threateningly. "Ya know somethin' I should know?" Eyes full of a anger were staring the Savior woman down. And Laura knew that this wasn't a version of Daryl you wanted to get yourself into a fight with.

"Not really, no, but..." She frowned; seemed to recall something in her memory. "I saw Jed hanging around in the hallway of your room this afternoon." The archer clenched his jaw.

He shouldn't have let you accompany him.

"Daryl?" Laura's voice ripped him out of his thoughts. The archer wanted to answer, but all he saw was red. He stormed off; driven by anger, fear and the urge to protect what was his - the most important one of the few good things in his life.

Without any unnecessary detours, Daryl went straight for Jed's room. Not even blinking, he barged through the door; slamming it shut behind him and causing the Savior, who was just about to get changed for the night to flinch badly. Jed spun around; his eyes landing on Daryl. "What the hell, Dixon?!" He complained; not noticing the hands of the archer, which were curled into fists, nor the rage in his blue-grey eyes. "Fuck off! This isn't your-" Before Jed was even able to finish his sentence, had Daryl already crossed the distance with three big steps and grabbed the Savior by the lapels of his shirt; pinning him against the wall. Sure, Jed was strong - but not as strong as the bulky archer. Plus, the momentum was clearly on Daryl's side, since he had caught him by surprise.

Daryl growled lowly in his throat. It wasn't a warning. It was a threat.

"What-" "Shut yer damn mouth 'n tell me where she is," Daryl growled; accentuating his words with pushing Jed a little harder and caging him entirely between the wall and his broad frame.

The man scoffed and pawed - in vain - at Daryl's bare forearms and the bulging veins and muscles located there; trying to free himself. "What the fuck are you talking about, Dixon?!"

"Ya ain't fuckin' with me, asshole. Ya know exactly what 'm talkin' about." His grip on Jed's shirt lapels tightened. "Where is my wife," Daryl punctuated every single word. The Savior glared into the archer's eyes for a moment, before he scoffed once again. "I have absolutely no clue where your little whore is! Perhaps she ran off and found a better dick than your-" Daryl had enough of the bullshit Jed was giving him. Without even letting him finish his sentence, Daryl pulled him away from the wall and threw him harshly to the hard ground. "Dun'cha dare talk about Y/N like tha'." His voice was deep and quiet, but not lacking with danger. "And now tell me where she is." "I told you, I don't know!" Jed tried to defend himself further, but Daryl knew he lied. He could feel it.

"A'right. Then we gonna do this the hard way," Daryl stated and lunged at Jed; fists connecting with the man's jaw and stomach. Jed fought back, of course, landing a few blows himself. Their bodies hit the floor multiple times. Blood flew, bones cracked and furniture got destroyed and wrecked as both men were fighting for the upper hand. In the end, though, had Daryl clear advantage over Jed. He was the more skilled and stronger fighter, and had the Savior snugly wrapped up in a chokehold. "'M gonna find 'er anyways," Daryl grunted; panting and being out of breath. "'N I dun care 'bout how many of yer assholes I gotta go through. I'll kill every damn one of ya if tha's what's it gonna take," he snarled and tightened his deathly grip around Jed's neck; his biceps bulging. "So, do yerself a damn favor 'n tell me where the hell she is!" "Fuck you!" was all Jed answered. The archer growled once again and squeezed, which caused the man to gasp and flail; helplessly trying to escape.

Only when Jed was on the verge of passing out, did he decide to finally cooperate. "Alright, alright!" He spluttered and choked. "I'm gonna tell you!" Daryl loosened his grip, and Jed frantically gasped for air. "S-She... She's in one... one of t-the cells..." The man coughed; still trying to get air back into his lungs.

The Savior didn't have to say more. Daryl knew what - or well, where he meant. "Try anythin' stupid, I'll kill ya," the crossbow-wielding archer warned Jed and gave him last death glare, before he left him on the floor in his room with bruises already forming on his neck.

This ain't 'bout me, damnit, he reminded himself. I gotta keep my wife 'n baby safe.

A lump formed in Daryl's throat as he made his way to the 'cells'. An area he thought he'd never ever in his life set foot in again. Being back at the Sanctuary was bad enough, but the mere thought of going there was even worse. It caused his stomach to flip. He could've thrown up all over the floor if he had let himself...

It still looked the same like back when he was imprisoned. The same way too squeaky clean floors. The same doors leading into the same rooms. The only difference was the infirmary, which had been moved to another part of the other building. But except that... Everything was the same. Daryl had to take a deep breath and close his eyes for a moment to keep his shit together and save himself from an approaching panic attack. His labored breath, shaky hands and the forming sweat on his skin a clear indicator.

"Y/N?" Daryl whisper-shouted; hoping to be close to you and receive an answer. He didn't. The archer had to go a little further to find you, and now that he was standing in front of one particular room with his heart almost breaking free of his ribcage; getting to know that it was locked as he twisted the door knob, realization dawned on him. Of course they'd lock her up here, Daryl thought as he eyed the way too familiar door. That was a part of the sick game they played.

With another deep breath, Daryl fought against the traumatic thoughts which wanted to push themselves to the forefront of his brain and shoved them aside; locking them away and focusing on you.

Precautionary, he freed his knife from its sheath and sneaked down the corridors; checking every room. After all, he didn't know who or what awaited him. Storming into this blindly wasn't probably the best idea, since he was convinced that Jed didn't do this alone.

Clenching his jaw, he had to fight another panic attack; even going as far to cut himself with the knife in his shaking hand, in the hopes that the pain would redirect the attention of his brain. A small grunt of pain escaped his lips as the red liquid dripped down his arm.

"H-Hello?"

His desperate action got interrupted by a soft, weak voice coming from the other side of the door; causing the archer's knife to clatter to the floor and a relieved, shaky breath to leave his throat.

"Y/N?!"

The answer came promptly.

"O-Oh my gosh, D-Daryl! I-It's locked, a-and I can't move, I-" "I know, sunshine, I know. Dun worry, 'kay? 'M goin' to get ya," he cut you off with the intention to calm you down. Taking a few steps back, he let the anger and rage take over his system once again and stormed forwards. The door might have been locked, but it definitely wasn't the same door like ten years ago. It had aged and got less stable, so when the archer's strong, bulky frame connected with the door, the lock gave in and the door busted open. Sure, it took him three tries and most likely cost him a bruised shoulder, but Daryl couldn't care less.

"C'mon. Let's getcha outta here 'n see a doctor. I ain't takin' any risks." Your husband shifted and gently slid an arm under your knees and around your back. "Hold on to me." You wrapped an arm around his neck, but shook your head. "Y-You don't have to do this, Dar. I can walk." "Nah," he stated, "I'm gonna do this. Yer hurt 'n pregnant." and lifted you carefully up to carry you bridal style. You didn't protest further. Why should you? He got a point after all...

The bright light from the corridor flooded the dark room and helping him to get a better look at you. You sat in the corner on the cold floor of the dark room. Your wrists and ankles were tied together with a thick rope - way too tight as he noticed, since he could see the material already cutting into your delicate skin. Tried blood was on the right side of your head.

Daryl's heart shattered into a million pieces, seeing you like this. Fear and concern coursed through his veins. "Y/N..." he whispered in a hoarse, broken voice and immediately dropped to his knees beside you, quickly freeing you off the too tight ropes, before one hand gently cupped your cheek, while the other found its way to your growing baby bump. "Ya both okay?! Ya hurt?! In pain?!" Tears of sheer relief gathered in your eyes; threatening to fall as you felt the gentle, loving touch of your husband and knowing that he was here with you. That he saved you.

"I-I'm okay... W-We are okay. Thanks to you," you breathed; smiling as tears rolled down your cheeks. It's been probably only hours since you lastly saw Daryl, but what had happened happened. The shock was profound.

The archer's eyes scanned your body thoroughly for any visible injuries. "Wha' 'bout yer head, sunshine?" "N-Nothing that can't be fixed," you stated and gazed deeply into his worried, loving eyes. "I'm s-so glad you found me. I-I was so afraid..." Daryl lowered his head to rest his forehead against yours. Your hands slipped behind his neck; tangling a few chestnut brown strands through your fingers. "Yeah, me too." Daryl's eyes fluttered shut, before his lips caught yours in a lingering, desperate kiss.

"Just Jed 'n Justin?" You nodded against his shoulder. "Justin waited for me in o-our room. He insulted you. S-Said I deserve better a-and..." You trailed off; feeling tears blurry your vision once again - but this time, it wasn't happy tears. "Ya dun have ta tell me, darlin'. Dun wanna pressure ya into talkin' 'a me." You swallowed hard and buried your face further in his shoulder and neck; "I-I want to tell you." inhaling deeply. Daryl's natural scent, mixed with leather and smoke filled your airways and - like always - had that soothing effect on you. "I-I think he was only a hairsbreadth away f-from raping me, but-" "Wha'?!" Daryl instantly cut you off. Every single muscle in his body tensed as he came to an abrupt halt. You could tell. "He didn't, Dar. I-I slapped him a-and tried to flee, but then there was J-Jed."

"Which one of those assholes did tha' to ya? Jed 'n who else?" Daryl asked in a drop-dead serious voice as he slowly made his way with you down the corridor. You swallowed hard; having to recall the horrible memory. "J-Justin."

Justin. One word - one name was enough to get Daryl's blood to a boiling point once again. He and that prick didn't get along from the very start - and this wasn't the first time the archer and Justin got in each other's ways... There had been a lot of situations where either of them was only a second away from beating the other up. Justin was - like Jed - one of those assholes who wanted Negan back. A Savior through and through.

The clattering sound of - most likely dishes urged to yours and Daryl's ears and managed to quickly redirect both your attention.

"'M gonna kill that sonofabitch," Daryl growled lowly under his breath, but you understood him anyway, of course. "Baby-" "Nah. Ya ain't gonna talk me outta this, Y/N," your husband stated firmly, while opening the main door to the building and stepped outside. Meanwhile, the sun had risen; fresh, crispy morning air hitting your bare arms.

"He's going to pay for tha'. He put you 'n our baby into danger. I ain't havin' tha'." "I know, babe, and you're right. He... He has to pay. But Rick's gonna-" "I dun care 'bout wha' Rick's gonna say. This ain't 'bout him. This' 'bout my family. We both know tha' he'd do the same in the end 'n-"

Justin stood a few feet away across from you and Daryl on the yard. What you had heard was indeed dishes breaking; the shards and content laying on the ground in front of the man. It looked like he had been just on his way to bring you some 'breakfast'. But now, the Savior stood frozen to the ground; eyes directed on you and Daryl. Your husband held his gaze, of course, and if looks could kill, Justin would've been dead already. You felt your archer's muscles tense once again, before he gently let you down. "Sit, 'kay? 'N stay there, please," he whispered and jutted his chin at a wooden bench. You did what he said and slowly walked backwards over to sit down; eyes never leaving both men.

The tension was literally cuttable with a knife as Justin and Daryl stared each other down. The archer out of pure hate and the Savior still in shock and in realization at failure of his plan. You knew this was going to escalate. Two 'alpha males' with completely different, but strong intentions.

Daryl knew it, too. It would've escalated someday anyway. For him, it was just sooner than later.

"Fuck," cursed Justin out loud then; awoken from his rigidity - and instantly started to run. Daryl wasn't having this, of course, and sprinted right after Justin. "Fuck, indeed..." You muttered to yourself; feeling your heart rate picking up. You had to fear for your life and the life of your unborn child for hours and now you had to fear for the life of your husband. Mental stress was your current program as it seemed - something not just you felt... You could feel some movement inside your baby bump. "I know, I know... I'm sorry, munchkin... I just hope your daddy knows what he's getting himself into..." Your palm cradled your protruding stomach in an attempt to soothe your antsy 'roommate'.

Meanwhile had Daryl caught up to Justin and tackled him to the concrete ground - where they still were. Fists connected with several body parts; each of them trying to gain the upper hand. Justin was definitely stronger than Jed. The archer had a hard time taking him down and couldn't do so without taking several hits and punches himself. However kept him the anger and adrenaline going, and gave him the strength he needed.

Somehow, they had made their way back to you. You gasped as both men entered your field of view again - just in time to witness Justin's fist colliding with Daryl's jaw, who let out a grunt of pain. Your eyes widened and you were instantly on your feet; breath hitching in your throat. "Daryl!" He had turned his back to you; spitting out some blood and blindly reaching out his arm to signal you to stay where you are. "Nah, stay back! I got it!" He yelled and violently shoved Justin away, as he wanted to deliver another blow.

You took a step back again, but didn't sit down; face full of concern. You wouldn't let him die. That much was certain. You'd intervene before that happened. How, was the part you hadn't figured out just yet...

The fight went on - without mercy. Daryl, you and Justin knew that only one would walk out alive. Neither the archer, nor the Savior intended to stop. Sure, you could stop it, but how were you supposed to do that?

The sound of a cracking bone almost send you into another frenzy - until you saw that it wasn't a bone of your husband's body. It was Justin's. His nose, to be precisely. The man winced in pain; crimson red blood already tripping down his nose and onto his shirt and the ground. Justin was clearly in a daze; stumbling a few steps back. This didn't slip Daryl's notice, of course. He knew that this was the moment. He had to grasp this chance and use it, before it was too late. The archer was well aware that he was hurt, too and didn't know how much longer he was able to hold on. So, without thinking twice, Daryl reached for the other knife in the sheath attached to his rugged jeans, freed the blade, spun around - and slit the Savior's throat in his movement. Your eyes widened to the size of plates; watching the man splutter and helplessly trying to put pressure on the wound, but it was in vain.

The clatter of a knife caused you to avert your eyes and look at your husband, who had sunk to his knees only a few feet away from Justin's now dead body; panting heavily. Your heart immediately screamed at you to look after the man you loved. Not wasting a second, you ran over to the archer; crouching down beside him.

"Daryl?" You cupped his cheeks and gently lifted his head to make him look at you. "Baby?" Heavy, clouded blue eyes gazed into yours. "You okay?" He nodded meekly. A breath of relief left your lips, although you could already see the bruises forming on his face and the dried blood on his lips and chin. Your thumbs caressed the rough, stubbly skin beneath them, before you gently pulled him closer and rested your forehead against his. Daryl sighed; his bloody hands gripping your wrists. "Y/N, 'm sorry, I-"

The bubble you and Daryl had been in bursted. You lifted your head; only now noticing Rick and a lot of other people standing around you. Mostly Saviors. Swallowing hard, you stood up; holding onto Daryl and helping him up as well. "Rick-" You started, but the leader of Alexandria interrupted you; shock, disappointment and anger clearly visible on his face. "You killed 'im? You killed Justin? Why?" You wanted to speak up again, but Daryl leapfrogged you. "'Cause he was a damn asshole, tha's why!" "Daryl, that's not-" "He kidnapped Y/N, Rick! He hurt her! He wanted to rape 'er 'n do god knows what to 'er!" Your husband yelled at his brother. "Wake up, man. We can't change them, Rick. They are wha' they chose ta be... 'N I ain't no longer puttin' my family on risk for this bullshit," Daryl stated firmly and wrapped his arm around your waist; anchoring you to him. "Let's getcha outta here, sunshine."

He didn't get any further. Another voice cut suddenly through the air. Familiar, but unexpected.

"What the hell is goin' on here?"

Rick was way too stunned to speak; could only watch as his best friend guided you across the yard.

Slowly, you slid closer and placed a hand cautiously on his bare back. "D-" "I failed ya." You couldn't even utter his name, before the words spilled from his lips. "I failed ya 'n our kid. Swore ta always protect ya 'n now look wha' happened..." You sighed. Of course... He blamed himself for this. You should've seen it coming. "Dar..." You spoke up again in a hushed voice; sliding even closer to him. One hand found its way around his waist, the other still resting on his upper back. "This wasn't your fault. Please stop blaming yourself. It was Jed and Justin's doing. Not yours," you tried to soothe his raging thoughts of guilt and littered his shoulder blade with tiny kisses.

A few hours, a visit at the infirmary and a shower later, you sat in yours and Daryl's room - still in the Sanctuary; trying to process what happened.

Only the mattress dipping beside you managed to rip you out of your thoughts. Daryl, who had just taken a shower as well sat down on the edge of the bed; muscles tensed and without saying a single word. He hadn't said a lot anyways since the incident. Sure, the archer had never been a man of words, but... You could tell that something was still bothering him.

You, though, stayed awake and watched him sleep with a soft smile on your face; fingers carding through his soft, still damp hair. "I just hope you reconciled with your brother, Mr. Dixon. You both need each other and you damn well know it."

Daryl shook his head. "Nah. 'S my fault, Y/N. Should've protected both 'a ya better." "You are protecting us the best you can, Daryl," you stated firmly; shifting once again to sit beside him. "You risked your life more than once for me. And you did what was right yesterday evening. You did what you had to do. You acted like a leader should act." "But-" "Nu.Uh. No buts," you cut him off and gently placed your lips in on his to keep him from speaking; entangling them in a sweet kiss. "We're right here, okay?" You prompted; taking one of his hands and placing it on your baby bump, while you intertwined the other with yours. "We're right here and we are completely fine." Troubled eyes gazed into yours; his touch never ceasing. "'M sorry," Daryl whispered; voice quivering.

"C'mere." You laid back on the bed and gently tucked at his hand; inviting him to join you. He immediately obliged and melted against your body with his head resting on your chest, while he was holding onto you for dear life. "That's it, baby... Relax. Deep breaths." Your husband followed your words, and found himself drifting off into dreamland at some point. He was just way too exhausted and unable to resist your soothing, comforting touch.

Tags: @angelwings-crossbowstrings @belitoxx @lou12346789 @fictive-sl0th @marvelcasey05 @loz-3 @whore4romance @stitchintimefan @bigbaldheadname @making-the-most-0f-it @erebus-et-eigengrau @km-ffluv @0-aubrie0 @sweetz1919 @mikaela-granger @secretsicanthideanymore @dilfdixon @txtttttttttttttt @cakesandtom @mayday2007 @thevegandarkelf

[yanderelovebites]

Back with batsis stuff and kinda wanna do the whole isekai thing. Have reader meet their end somehow and wake up in a fanfic that was never finished of a neglected batsis. Have them wake up at the incident that made them get sent over to Bruce.

Have the original girl’s memories and knowing already they didn’t like her, didn’t want her, etc. she decided to just live for herself and future. Girlie went with her father who gave her that initial attention but after that she was taken to her room. She’s six. Have her give that grieving period of two weeks where she just got used to the room and the manor before she started asking for things. It’ll be probably one form of martial arts and later on probably also either music or dance. When she isn’t doing either of those things she sketching in her book and she’s actually really good.

Have her be closest with Alfred but still keep a certain wall up against him just like the others. Have her be a few months older than Damian and Damian isn’t quite in the picture yet. She ignores when the others are in the house despite being a part of said home. She only looks for her father for school needs and while still keeping her distance will set birth cards and Father’s Day cards on his desk in the study. She never hands them to him so she doesn’t know what he does with them nor does she care.

If the character she is reborn as is meant to be neglected, why should she bother trying to reach out?

She eventually had no choice but to meet Jason because he was there… they didn’t know how to explain to her why red hood is there. She simply said “Hello, I would chat but I have Jujitsu in 20 so I have to leave. Nice meeting you.” It was concerning how she brushed it off. Of course she realizes after ‘oh none of them would know I know… nah I’ll just continue on. Who knows, it might bother them!’

By the time Damian gets there, she’s been through karate, jujitsu, and only a year of Taekwondo while also taking dancing/music lessons. She has won art competitions but only Alfred has ever seen or heard. Bruce may have heard but he barely listened to the announcement of it. He knows from a portrait she was forced to sit for with Bruce, Tim, and Dick, she exists. Yet, it takes a week for him to ever see her.

He asks questions like in the original, but what batsis reader doesn’t understand is she changed how Damian sees her since she wasn’t immediately clingy to anyone. Dick TRIES to remember anything and realizes he doesn’t really know her. Tim can’t really tell him anything either other than medical records in case anything happens. Literally all Tim gave Damian was that Damian and batsis have the say blood type. They realize they really don’t know batsis which does unnerve them. All they can say is she stays to herself. That both irritates Damian and intrigued him. He tries Alfred next who is able to at least tell him what she does routinely at least. How she’s been in martial arts after her first two weeks living here, implied she was grieving, and she’s also been in music/dance lessons as well. Also explains she enjoys participating in art contests. He goes on about her being an A+ student and explains she doesn’t interact much with the rest of the family. He even says “To be honest, I’m pretty sure I’m the only one she talks to in any capacity that isn’t out of necessity.”

Jason pretty much only knew about one of the martial arts being jujitsu. He explains she didn’t seem phased that red hood had entered her home and that she didn’t know about the Batman secret.

He doesn’t immediately approach her either. He doesn’t have all the information he needs. All he knows is she’s his half sibling, her usual activities, at least one of the forms of martial arts she knows, and that otherwise she’s a bit of a mystery. Eventually they’re forced to eat at a family dinner together. Since it really bothered Dick that he didn’t know anything he starts asking her about school. No one ever asked her questions, half the time they act like she isn’t there, so she’s confused, but politely says it’s been fine. Talks briefly about her classes, the mention of what classes she’s currently taking makes Tim and Dick shocked. For Tim it’s simply the fact that *she* was taking them and for Dick it’s the fact someone her age was taking such advance classes. Tim coughed and asked her what she did after school on Friday, mostly to hear anything else and she’s like “Oh just another art competition. I placed first with my painting.” She says and continues eating.

Bruce honestly is trying to process what he heard and saw and Damian treats it as a way to analyze her. The way she eats, the way she talks, her posture, and of course the tiny bits the boys were getting out. She then says “I’m sure Alfred has already told you about that, however, right father?” He coughs for a moment and nods as to hide the fact he himself has been caught off guard. For Damian she isn’t like a role model for what he’s grown up with, it’s more she’s a role model for what a Wayne is. She’s perfect in all things you’d expect the public to see a Wayne for. Knows arts, has some martial arts background, and has a certain air of modesty yet wealthy around her.

This attention to her is still brief at this time for Tim, Dick, and Bruce. They ask if she’s met Damian and she says “Not really, at best some glances. I’m always moving after all.” That dinner felt awkward, but Damian decided she wasn’t Particularly a threat…

And by all things holy it annoys the crap out of Tim. He actually tries to speak to her—which she is cautious at first because she knows what he did to the original Batsis. Instead of drawing his sword on her, he asked about her martial arts since that’s really all he can… talk about with her… and the part that annoys Tim on it… is simply he won’t shut up about her-

And he thought when Damian called himself the blood son was annoying! Now it’s ’blood sibling’ this and that if bringing her up in conversation occurs. It’s clear he respects her in such annoying ways.

I just imagine the Yandere Batfam doesn’t all happen at once. It starts with Damian. You don’t see it at first because you blame his upbringing. He’s stuck to your side during banquets as much as he despises them. He mirrors some of your ‘mask’ etiquette in that all the Wayne’s have an image. You kept yours on as rock solid as possible, you are not the same person. He can tell you must have some inspiration from your father as yours is a rather innocent persona. You act like a social butterfly amongst the people and seem so damn sweet. He just doesn’t like how many eyes are on you. You acted like you couldn’t feel it, but it’s hard to ignore Damian. In fact, it accidentally wentinti his persona as people saw him as a clingy little brother to his slightly older sister. That it just made ‘sense’ since you two are so close in age.

Damian would just get worse as time went on. It’s get to the point you realize he isn’t faking or anything he actually just likes you. Then you get kidnapped.

I imagine no one but Alfred and Damian realize something is wrong. He’s the reason they find you and he nearly kills the guy who kidnapped you. Of course it’s not like you just let them take you, there was evidence even before they were brought to an inch of their life. You hadn’t made it easy and they could tell you had injured them beforehand. However they had broken your legs and that’s when I’d get worse for Damian and start in Bruce.

I might add more thoughts later I dunno it’s kind of an idea dump

[meelkiewee]

Washed up and ready for tumblr

sadly, i'm in a bit of an artblock/burnout so i'm kinda procrastinating on some projects by doing other stuff like this eefo character design... sigh

[pls reblog, don't like]

⬇️ my choices explained under the cut

INTRO

i'll start by saying that this character design was brought to life with my kinda limited knowledge of etho and my absolute passion for heavily redesigning characters and giving them my own twist.

THE MASK AND THE MASK's MASK

the first image that came to my mind was his mask. i knew i wanted something to cover almost all his face and for it to be wolf inspired. i still wanted it to reference his skin in some way though, so i added the little metallic plate and the black forehead ribbon as the way the mask holds up.

underneath his main mask i put another simpler black mask that mainly serves 3 purposes: it makes the wolf mask more comfortable to wear without too much metal to skin contact, it mantains the face covered in case the other falls off and... guys i remember i saw a clip of hermits asking him to take off the overlay of his skin to see his face but there was a second mask underneath. i don't make the rules.

CONCEAL DON'T FEEL

after that i slowly worked up a little bit of context in my head while i was adding more details and making my choices. so what i did was making a collage of the infos i collected over time about him and his character and sprinkle a little bit of kakashiki (-cit tango) visual elements.

as we all know etho is a brilliant redstoner and a guy who really cares about privacy. put that together and you get the lore i made up for him:

with his advanced irl tech knowledge, he found a way to transfer his soul in minecraft, kinda like SAO works, and has to conceal his appearance to not get caught. here comes the layered clothes, the enormous coat and ofc the masks. due to all of this i also headcanon him preferring to live in the colder biomes, and this ties back also to the fact that he's from canada ykyk.

AWOO BUT NOT TOO MUCH

i really like wolfie etho designs i saw going around but i didn't want to design another ren with a different palette (my ren is a anthro german shepherd) so i channeled the wolf energy in the mask, the thick fur of the coat that ends with a tail (inspired by marcille dungeon lord outfit, a few notice but her dress has a tail) and in his hair, also kinda looking like a tail.

TYPE: VIBES

the eye of the wolf mask being red and scarred (for life) is of course inspired by his kakashi skin. i sprinkled red tassels here and there to fill in the spots and mainly cause i personally love tassels and wanted to add some red accents for redstone.

his kinda slouchy posture is totally for vibes, etho comes across to me as this kinda lazy/chill guy that channels the energies he has into thinking about the redstone he gotta do and calls it a day. i tried to channel that also in the kinda generic plain clothes.

for the vibes i wanted to put him in crocs/flip flops too but i couldn't otherwise he would absolutely freeze. i had to give him some warm boots or whatevs *sigh*

i tried to make his single visible eye as cute and puppy-looking as possible 'cause c'mon he a cutie pie okay? for the mole near the eye, guys i literally can't recall where i got this piece of info and if it's even remotely true but, i read/heard somewhere he has a bunch of moles on his face irl??? idk idk this is so random, i'm sorry.

SO YEAH

this is the end of my long long explanation for this character design. i hope you like it and if you don't, i know my bestie likes it (he's a bit of an ethogirlie lol luv ya bestie <3)

the end, thanks a lot for reading!

[bueckersstuff]

REMEMBER

Click here for chapter: 1 & 2

Chapter 3: Forgotten Faces, Remembered Pain

Paige's POV

I grew up here in Minnesota, living what seemed like a perfect life until I left for college in Connecticut three years ago. Good family, solid school, a career I was proud of, the best friends anyone could ask for. I had everything I could have dreamed of. Or at least, I thought I did. But then, a certain someone walked back into my life, and now I realized—time doesn’t heal anything. You just get used to carrying the weight of what hurts for a lot longer than you should.

It all started when I was twelve, discovering my love for basketball. My dad used to bring me to this basketball court just down the street to practice, sometimes for hours. We’d always end up at the local convenience store, grabbing snacks—he’d stock up on chips while I picked out ice cream. I still remember that day. I grabbed my usual chocolate ice cream, lined up to pay, and that’s when I heard it.

"No! What you gave me is a dollar short! I can count!" A girl’s voice, sharp with frustration, cutting through the air. I turned, half expecting some kind of mistake, but she was standing there, arguing with the cashier, insisting on the right change.

I couldn’t help it—my eyes met hers, and she shoved the receipt into my face, her little face demanding validation.

"You know math? Tell me I’m right, and she’s wrong."

I had to laugh. I looked at the cashier, then back at her. "Yeah, you’re right." Though I was laughing, I actually glanced at the receipt and she was, indeed, right.

She flashed that cocky grin of hers, so smug. "See? Told you I’m right."

That was just the beginning.

She started following me around, asking questions, poking into my life, telling me she had no friends, she was bored all the time. I didn’t even know why I let her in, but I did. So, I told her, "If you want to waste time, you can come watch me practice. You live around here, right?" She had mentioned earlier that she lives nearby.

"Yeah, that works," she replied, smirking. "I can waste time and practice my math by counting your scores. That is, if you can score."

That was her way of challenging me.

Five years. Five years we spent inseparable, like we couldn’t exist without each other. And then, the world broke apart.

One day, she came to practice with bloodshot eyes, her face red and blotchy from crying. Before I could even ask, she blurted out, her voice cracking:

"I’m leaving Minnesota. Mom says it’s for work, and we’ll be back sooner than I think."

She started sobbing uncontrollably. "I don’t want to leave. I can’t leave you here alone."

I was speechless. My world was spinning, and I didn’t know how to respond. I couldn’t wrap my mind around it.

"If that’s what the adults want, there’s nothing we can do about it, right?" I muttered, trying to ease the tension. "We can still talk on video calls, and you’ll be back before you know it."

But what about what I wanted?

"No!" she screamed. "If I leave, you’ll forget about me. You’ll find new friends!"

I could hear the panic in her voice, and it drove a sharp pain into my chest. "I won’t. I promise. It’s just us two, forever and ever."

And then she was gone.

For two years, we kept in touch, but as soon as I moved to Connecticut for college, things started to unravel. The calls grew less frequent, the arguments more intense. Silence followed, suffocating silence. No texts, no calls. Just emptiness.

I thought she was living her best life—at least, that’s what her social media told me. She seemed happy, thriving. But where did that leave me? Did "forever and ever" mean nothing? Was I just another part of her past, fading away?

I moved on, or so I told myself. I threw myself into my studies, my career. But still, there were nights when I found myself searching for her name, staring at her photos, wondering what had happened. Longing. Disappointment. Anger. Then confusion. Why was I still so obsessed? She left me all alone, even when I needed her the most. When I suffered an injury while playing my sport, I thought she’d be there for me, but I was wrong. I admit, I reached out to her, sending messages here and there—but maybe that was just my vulnerability talking. In the end, it didn’t matter. The lowest point of my life wasn’t even worth her time.

And then, there she was. Standing in front of me. But she was... different. Not in a good way. Something about her seemed so out of place. Her whole aura had changed. What happened to her?

It’s been a week since that first encounter, and I’m running errands for Drew. I roll my eyes—he’s got the audacity to ask me to get ice cream for him. As I’m perusing the different flavors, out of the corner of my eye, I see him.

Steve.

The shock is immediate, but the look on his face is worse. He’s more stunned than I am. But why is that? Am I not supposed to see him anymore?

"Paige? Long time no see! What are you doing here? I thought you were in Connecticut?"

My heart skips a beat. He keeps tabs on me?

"I’m on a break. Gonna head back tomorrow though, classes start soon. It’s good to see you again, Steve." I try to sound calm, but it’s hard when my mind is still reeling. "How’s Emma?"

His face contorts, and I see a flicker of pain—something I haven’t seen before, and it sends a sharp pang through me.

"Emma’s gone. Just three months ago."

The words crash into me like a wrecking ball. What? Emma’s dead?

I don’t know what to say. My mouth goes dry. "Oh my god. I’m so sorry. How are you holding up?"

"We’re fine now, I guess. But the last three months have been hell. Losing Emma... and then having my daughter almost..." He trails off, his voice cracking. "I’m just thankful my daughter got lucky."

My stomach drops. "What do you mean?"

"I came here with my daughter. You haven’t seen her yet?" he asks, and the words send a shiver through me.

Oh, I've seen her, but then she disappears again for the rest of the week.

"But maybe even if you did, she won’t remember you," he adds, his voice tinged with sadness.

I freeze. What?

"She’s suffering from a temporary memory loss from the accident, Paige."

She forgot me? She forgot about us?

The ice cream Steve is holding shakes slightly in his hands, and I suddenly realize I’m staring at it. "Is that for her? That’s her favorite."

"Yeah. I’m hoping it’ll help her remember, you know?" Steve’s voice breaks, and it feels like the weight of everything is pressing in on me.

I don’t know why I say it, but it spills out before I can stop myself.

"I want to help. Make her remember."

I must be crazy.

He looks at me, surprised but grateful. "You would? That means a lot to me, Paige."

He pauses for a moment, his eyes a little distant, before continuing. "I’ve been thinking about it for a while now—about sending her back to school. The doctors think getting back into a routine could help her. They said it might spark something, help her remember what she loved." He exhales, his voice wavering slightly. "I’ve been struggling with whether or not it's the right time, but... I think it might be the only way."

I barely hear him as my mind races. "She can attend to mine. Transfer her. She can join the swimming team. She still swims, right?"

Or maybe I'm just out of my fucking mind.

"Yes!" Steve’s face lights up. "That’s actually a great idea. I’ll start processing her papers next week."

She needs to remember. Because when she finally looks me in the eye and says sorry, it won’t be some empty apology. It’ll be real.

She’ll remember me. She has to.

Chapter 4 setting's gonna be at Uconn. More interactions and stuff!! <3

Taglist: @authentic-girl03 @unadulteratedcyclepaper @0phantom0 @sjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj

[burningembers91]

Cosmopolitan Kisses - Cho Hyun-Ju x Fem!Reader

Follow up piece to:

Powder Blue Dress

Synopsis: After a night out, the unspoken feelings between you and Hyun-Ju bubble to the surface

Cho Hyun-Ju couldn’t remember a time when she’d be happier. These days, her face ached from the almost constant smile she wore. Life was almost perfect for her, and she had you to thank for that. For the first time in her existence, she didn’t feel like a freak, like a burden. She felt comfortable in her own skin, she felt beautiful when she looked in the mirror. Your friendship had been invaluable; the love, grace and acceptance you’d shown was unlike anything she’d known. She still endured stares, jeers and awkward comments from those around her, but they seemed to bounce off her a little easier these days. There were still days when the words got to her, but she didn’t have to deal with it alone anymore.

She’d found a great friend group, one who’d accepted her just the way she was. There were no uncomfortable questions, no expectations for her to be someone she wasn’t. She looked forward to her weekends, enjoyed doing her makeup and putting on the feminine outfits she’d bought; she enjoyed being absolutely unapologetically herself. If she wasn’t sipping cocktails, she was singing loudly to karaoke or challenging her friends to beat her high score at the arcade. Sometimes she’d invite everyone to her apartment, relishing in the opportunity to play hostess to the friends who’d become the centre of her world. And right there in the middle was you, the girl who’d told Hyun-Ju that you thought she had a beautiful smile. You looked incredible tonight, in a black dressed that hugged you in all the right places. You laughed as your sipped on your Cosmopolitan, listening as one of your new friends told you about a disastrous date she’d been on. Your lipstick had marked the rim of your glass, the bold, rich redness pulling Hyun-Ju in. She got lost in the way your lips looked. The way they arched up when you smiled, the way the tip of your tongue flicked across your upper lip every now and then. She longed to kiss you, to have your lipstick stain her lips. You caught her smiling, offering her one in return.

She was on her third cocktail now, and her confidence was growing. You’d had brief conversations about your dating preferences over the last few months, and you’d all but confirmed that you fell for someone based on their personality, not on their anatomy. But something still stopped Hyun-Ju from taking the next step. A lifetime of rejection and ridicule had made her doubt herself, and she would hate to ruin what you had. “Do you want another one?” you asked, pointing to her almost empty glass. “It’s my round.” She nodded at you, watching as you made your way to the bar, your dress clinging to your figure. How she longed to put her hands on your waist, to pull you into her and feel your lips on hers. It was a scenario she’d replayed in her head and again, the image fuelling her desires on the nights where sleep escaped her.

You weren’t sure how many drinks you ended up having, not including the shots your friends insisted you downed to finish the night. You were well and truly feeling the effect of the cocktails as you and Hyun-Ju stumbled home arm in arm, laughing the whole way. “My feet are killing me,” you groaned, kicking off your shoes as you finally made it back to your apartment. “And I’m starving. Should we order a pizza?” “I already did.” Hyun-Ju flashed you her phone screen, smiling as she saw your face light up. She’d been on enough nights out with you now to know you always got hungry on the way home.

She wasn’t sure what the time was, but time seemed to stand still with you. She pulled a blanket over you both as you crashed on the sofa, resisting the urge to pull you in close to her. The TV was on, but she wasn’t paying attention to the channel, too busy recreating the frankly award-winning performance of 9-5 the two of you had sung at karaoke earlier in the night. Hyun-Ju had tears of laughter streaming down her face by the time the pizza arrived. It felt good to feel this light, to feel this on top of the world. As you stifled a yawn, she knew it was time to head back to her apartment. Back to the silence of her tiny room, where she knew she’d lie awake and think of you.

“I had an amazing time,” you smiled, your arms snaking round Hyun-Ju’s waist as you pulled her in for a hug. Any form of touch from you left her breathless, and tonight was no exception. You smelled like lavender shampoo and vanilla, your body so warm and soft against hers. She didn’t want to let go of you, didn’t want to end the night when she was having such a perfect time. As you parted, your eyes met, and the world seemed to stand still. She could see the steady rise and fall of your chest, could see the way you nervously bit your bottom lip.

“I’d really like to kiss you,” you whispered, your fingers entwining with hers. “Are you sure?” Hyun-Ju was so taken aback, so thrown off course that she was sure she’d heard you wrong. Never had she imagined that you, the girl she sang with, confided in and counted on would ever see her as more than a friend. “Yes,” you smiled, “I’m definitely sure.”

Your lips met, soft and slow. The feel of your kiss was electric, sending the most delicious sparks through Hyun-Ju’s entire body. She’d spent months dreaming about kissing you, but the dreams were nothing in comparison to reality. Your hand trailed up her back, coming to rest on the nape of her neck. She sighed contentedly into your lips as your fingers entwined in her hair, a feeling she’d thought about endlessly. She wondered how it would feel if you’d pulled on it, if you tipped her head back and explored her neck with your lips. You were so confident, so sure of yourself, guiding her as your kiss deepened. She placed her hands on your waist, feeling the softness of your curves in the dress she loved so much. She felt you shiver against her touch, heard your soft breathy moan as your teeth gently grazed her lower lip.

Neither of you wanted to pull away, but both of you were so conscious of taking your time, of making sure you got this right. You’d wanted each other for so long, but good things came to those who waited. “I should let you get some sleep,” Hyun-Ju smiled, placing a final soft kiss on your lips. “Come and see me tomorrow?” you asked, unable to resist one more tender kiss. Nodding, she left you, her feet dragging her back to her apartment. She wanted to stay so badly, to feel your body against hers, to make you moan her name. But there were so many things unspoken between the two of you, so many insecurities she hadn’t even begun to face yet.

Hyun-Ju wondered if you’d stay, knowing that she still had so far to go. Relationships were an unexplored territory for her, a place she’d never been. She was terrified and exhilarated at the same time, her hands shaking as she readied for bed.

Her transition journey wasn’t over, and she hadn’t even cracked the surface of the lifetime of negative emotions and thoughts she had stored away. She hoped you’d stay with her while she figured this out, she hoped you could navigate this new journey together. You meant more to Hyun-Ju than she would ever be able to express. You were the girl who thought she had a beautiful smile, the person who, for the first time in her life, made her feel unstoppable.

[iamconstantine]

arcane characters as college staff

Mel

History professor 

Refers to all students by (honorific) (surname)

Nothing but praise on ratemyproffesor

“I didn’t like history until I took Professor Medarda’s class” 

Doesn’t write scholarly articles, just giant ass books that she pumps out almost every year somehow

Quickly responds to emails. No response = its in the syllabus 

“Is there any make up work I can do to get my grade up—“ Absolutely not

But if you go the writing center you can get extra credit

Every year her students ask for an extension on the final project and every year she gives a long and furious rant about how the project was visible online from Day 1 and they had all semester to work on it

She has a beautiful office that looks like a miniature library and she only sees students by appointment

Jayce

Physics professor

Is a prolific author but somehow can’t figure out how to set up the course online

Prints cheesy physics memes 

Every zoom meeting begins with 1000 messages saying “professor Talis we can’t hear you your mic isn’t on” every. time.

you can come see him in his office any time, door’s always open

but his office is so messy you probably won’t be able to sit because he has a stack of papers on every chair

“Everyone got this question on the exam wrong so I’m going to give everyone credit because that means i didn’t teach it properly”

Always throws an end-of-year party at his place 

Caitlyn

English Literature professor 

would win best dressed of the staff, always shows up in the slacks-and-blazer fit

“To understand why the narrator wears red shoes, we need to take a look at the sociopolitical state of Edinburgh in 1864.”

if you reply to a discussion board post with just “I agree” you’re not getting credit and it isn’t up for discussion 

Never reads contemporary fiction. The “newest” book she’s read is The Great Gatsby

“We’re not having a party but if you want to bring snacks and soda to the last day of class that’s fine”

Covers a lot of authors but it somehow always comes back to Emily Dickenson

Is that teacher that assigns 400-page books every week

Constantly publishing in lit journals (rumor has it she writes steamy open-door romance books under a pen-name but no one has confirmed this)

Ekko

Art professor 

You have to actively screw up to get a bad grade with him

He wrote thousands of letters to the board until they caved and gave the class a proper kiln

“Write a three-page essay explaining why AI art is not art and insisting otherwise is spitting in the face of humankind. Double spaced. Due Friday 11:59”

Throws back coffee. Has a coffeemaker in the studio. Two of them. 

“Hey guys some of you are submitting assignments at 2 in the morning. It can wait until the next day. Please get some sleep.”

He’s created awe-inspiring pieces but if you just wanna paint a frog wearing a hat he’ll say “that’s cool”

Says he knows who banksy is but will never tell

He gets way too deep in the zone. Once reached for his coffee cup while painting, drank paint water instead. Didn’t notice.

Jinx

Chemistry professor 

If you email her the response will be “k” or “no” and nothing else

Waits until twenty minutes after the class begins to email everyone that class is canceled 

Never wears a coat, goggles, or gloves. But will call out students if they don’t

takes 5 years to post grades

“Look I’m not remembering any names. Too many. If I’m talking to you I’ll just point”

Puts a meme on the projector every day. Mostly incomprehensible. Picture of a horse on an beach and it just says “Zimbabwe”

lowest score on ratemyprofessor

someone creates a website called ratemystudent and administration has no proof that it was her because technically the students with bad scores being the same students that get bad grades in her class can be coincidental 

Viktor

Biomedical engineering professor 

Only professor who still uses chalkboards

First day of class is first day of class. No reviewing the syllabus, turn to page 34 in your textbook.

Puts things in the syllabus to catch people who use ChatGPT. If you’re caught, you’re removed from his class. Immediately. You will not get to plead your case.

Most of his cited sources are himself

Literally begs students to thrift their textbooks online instead of buying them from the school. Provides free PDFs as often as he can.

He reads journals every day and will write personal letters to authors he disagrees with

If a student asks a particularly dumb question he’ll step out of the room for ten minutes to compose himself and then resume teaching like nothing happened

Vi

Not a professor, works at the on-campus gym and leads clubs

Constantly curses without batting an eye. Students will leave class with their very uptight professor then come to the soccer club where vi walks in like “sorry I’m late guys i had a motherfucker of a headache this morning”

Please don’t ask her about anything that isn’t club or sport related. If you ask for directions or how to get in contact with student services she’s got nothing

If she refs for a game and you’re on the opposing team you’d better watch yourself. She will rip you a new one if you break any rules. One time a player grabbed one of her member’s mask during a game and he left crying after Vi was done with him

Students run into her at the local hangouts a lot but it’s never awkward. just reminds you not to party too hard before the game tomorrow 

Leads pretty much every club but dance. Wouldn’t admit it but she has no sense of rhythm and refuses to even do it as a student

You can call her coach or captain or just Vi, whatever you want. But if you call her Violet she’ll stare you down until you correct yourself

Heimerdinger

Anthropology professor 

Spends the first day of class getting to know everyone. “We’re going to go around and give our names and a fun fact about ourselves!”

Gives the “Nacirema” assignment and can’t wait to tell everyone the catch

His classroom is filled with artifacts. Don’t ask about any of them because it will take up class time

If you can’t make it to class he sends really nice responses saying he understands, then checks in when you come back

The only thing that puts him in a bad mood is the “why do anthropologists study dinosaurs if anthropology is about people” question. He’s old and tired 

Keeps thinking about retiring, keeps changing his mind

Silco

Political science professor

His classroom is bare and blank. No life. Just fluorescent lights and chairs.

Brags about how few people pass his class

Very strict on attendance. Too many absences and you’re out. 

If the assignment is due at 11:59 and you turn it in at 12:00, it’s late

“I am quite interested to hear why you believe you are deserving of a higher grade when you’ve spent less than thirty minutes attending all of my classes combined. Please, continue.”

Will straight up roast other professors no problem. Encourages students to pass it along

He encourages debate but the only thing students debate about outside of class is whether he’s hot or creepy af

Final project is a choice between A) A ten-page essay on why there is no ethical consumption under capitalism, or B) a presentation on why the country is doomed

Vander

Education professor 

Makes his own series of Crash Course-esque videos

Comes to class in jeans at best. Sweats, sometimes. 

He has one coffee mug that says #1 Dad and he refuses to use anything else

He puts fun questions on his exams, like riddles. If no one gets it, he actually gets sad

Whenever he erases the whiteboard he always misses a spot. He’s that professor.

If he catches you plagiarizing, you get one pass before he reports it. But you have to come to his office so he can tell you how disappointed he is and how much potential you have

He gives a seminar about how worried he is for the future of education and the wellbeing of the next generation and everyone leaves feeling guilty. Everyone.

Make a pop culture reference in class and everything will grind to a halt so you can explain it to him. Visuals help.

Sevika

Librarian

If you play music in the library she’ll walk up to you and just go “are you joking”

Have a phone call on speaker and she’s hanging it up for you

There’s signs telling you to be quiet every three feet

If you see her outside of school no you didn’t

She’s in charge of leading classes on accessing academic databases and she fucking hates it

Somehow knows where every book is down to the shelf. She’ll tell you what you’re looking for before you can finish your sentence

technically she’s supposed to do a walkthrough before closing for the night but if you can’t read the library hours on the signs it’s your fault if you get locked in

[cailinsblog]

Nico's Perfect Birthday Celebration | Nico hischier

Nico hischier x reader

It was a crisp January evening, and Y/N Hischier was bustling around their house, putting the final touches on a surprise birthday party for Nico. It was his 26th birthday, and she wanted to make it extra special. Over the past week, she’d secretly coordinated with Nico’s teammates, planning every detail down to the Swiss-themed cake as a nod to his heritage.

The house was adorned with soft string lights, candles, and red and white decorations, reflecting the colors of the Swiss flag and the Devils. In the living room, a large "Happy Birthday Nico!" banner hung proudly above the fireplace, with pictures of him from different stages of his hockey career pinned underneath.

Lilly and Nick, the couple's 2-year-old twins, were running around in miniature Devils jerseys with “Daddy” and Nico’s number 13 on the back. Lilly was clutching a red balloon tightly, while Nick toddled after her, giggling uncontrollably.

“Lilly, Nick, come here!” Y/N called, kneeling down to adjust their little party hats. “Remember, when Daddy comes home, we’re all going to yell, ‘Surprise!’ okay?”

“’Prise!” Nick squealed, clapping his hands.

Y/N smiled, scooping him up and planting a kiss on his cheek. “That’s right, baby boy.”

The team began arriving shortly after, each player bringing gifts and good spirits. Jack Hughes was the first through the door, carrying an oversized stuffed bear for the twins. “Where’s the birthday boy?” he asked with a grin, ruffling Nick’s hair.

“Not home yet,” Y/N said, ushering him inside. “He thinks we’re just having a quiet dinner.”

As more of the team trickled in, the house filled with laughter, chatter, and the smell of Swiss fondue that Y/N had prepared in honor of Nico’s roots. Dougie Hamilton and Jesper Bratt were in charge of setting up the food, while Jack and Luke Hughes kept the twins entertained, playing a mini hockey game in the hallway.

Finally, Y/N got the text she’d been waiting for: “On my way home. Be there in 10.”

“Alright, everyone! Places!” she called out, turning off the lights.

The room went quiet as the front door opened. Nico stepped inside, his hockey bag slung over his shoulder. He froze when the lights flicked on and everyone yelled, “Surprise!”

His eyes widened, a grin spreading across his face as he took in the room filled with his teammates, balloons, and his family. “What—? How did you—?!”

Y/N walked up to him, smiling as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Happy birthday, my love. You didn’t think I’d let your day go by without a little celebration, did you?”

Nico laughed, pulling her close and pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You’re amazing,” he said, his voice soft.

“Daddy!” Lilly and Nick ran up to him, their little arms outstretched. Nico scooped them up, one in each arm, his heart melting at the sight of their happy faces. “You guys planned this, huh?” he teased, kissing each of their cheeks.

The party was in full swing soon after. The team gathered around the dining table to sing happy birthday, with Nico blowing out the candles on his Swiss chocolate cake. Y/N had added a small, playful touch—a tiny fondue pot as the cake topper.

“What’d you wish for?” Jack asked, elbowing Nico as he cut the cake.

Nico chuckled, glancing at Y/N and the twins. “I think I’ve got everything I could ever wish for.”

After the cake, the evening turned into a mix of games, stories, and laughter. The twins were the center of attention, especially when Nick tried to “help” Dougie with his plate of fondue, resulting in a small cheese spill that had everyone in stitches.

As the night wound down, Nico found himself sitting on the couch with Y/N, Lilly asleep in his lap and Nick dozing off in hers. His teammates were still chatting and laughing in the background, but his focus was entirely on his little family.

“Thank you for this,” he whispered, leaning his head against hers. “You always know how to make me feel so loved.”

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling with happiness. “You deserve it, Nico. You make every day special for us. This is just my way of showing you how much we love you.”

He kissed her softly, his lips lingering against hers. “Best birthday ever,” he murmured.

Y/N laughed quietly, running her fingers through Nick’s hair. “Just wait until next year.”

And with that, Nico leaned back, soaking in the warmth of the moment—the love of his wife, the sound of his friends, and the quiet hum of happiness that filled the room.

It was, without a doubt, a birthday to remember.

————————————————————————

Repost helps a lot and requests are open

[midastouch013]

Turn Back Time

Summary: Based on Turn Back Time by Daniel Schulz

Warnings: Mentions of death, Dead!Nat, Minor violence, Post Endgame, No happy ending.

P.S: This hurt me to write

P.S.S : Also, how would you feel about doing a version of this, but it was just a breakup, not dead her.

---

The rumble of the Harley-Davidson Live Wire reverberated through the quiet street, the electric hum blending with the steady rhythm of your heart. It was her bike—the one you'd gifted her on your second anniversary. A sleek machine, made for freedom and adrenaline, but also for quiet moments like these.

You sat at the red light, staring blankly at the world around you. The evening chill nipped at your skin through your jacket, and the city lights blurred in your peripheral vision. Somewhere in the back of your mind, a memory stirred.

--

It was your second anniversary. She had been scheduled for an emergency mission that day, something she'd cursed under her breath when she realized it clashed with your plans. Still, Natasha being Natasha, you knew she'd feel bad if she didn't go, and so you didn't stop her, but sending her off with a "Come to the garage when you're done". And she did.

You’d waited for hours in the garage, the compound eerily quiet as everyone else had gone to bed. The Live Wire gleamed under the dim lights, freshly polished, your gift to her—a machine that matched her speed, her elegance, her fire. But as the clock ticked past dinner and well into the evening, your excitement had waned, replaced by worry.

When you heard those familiar steps you stood, your heart pounding as you saw her walking toward you, her steps slower than usual, her face shadowed with exhaustion. Her black suit was stained with dirt and faint traces of blood, but when her eyes met yours, a small smile tugged at her lips.

"You waited," she said softly, her voice tinged with disbelief.

You smirked, tossing her the helmet you’d been holding. "Of course. You think I'm going to let our anniversary slide just because you're fashionably late?"

She laughed softly, shaking her head as she walked toward you. Her hand rested briefly on your cheek before she pressed a quick kiss to your lips.

"I owe you big time," she murmured.

"You can start by getting on." You gestured to the bike, and her eyes widened.

"This is..." She trailed off, running her fingers along the handlebars.

"For you," you said simply, watching her reaction.

Her lips parted, eyes glimmering under the dim garage lights. "You’re serious?"

"Dead serious. But first, you’re going to sit behind me. I want to take you somewhere."

The memory blurred as you remembered her leaning into your back, her arms securely around your waist as you sped through the night. The streets were nearly empty, the wind whipping through your hair as laughter bubbled up from behind you.

When you’d reached the first red light, you didn’t even slow down. She’d leaned closer, her voice teasing in your ear. "That’s illegal, you know."

You’d grinned, your heart pounding as adrenaline coursed through you. "So is falling in love with a spy."

The night had stretched on, the two of you riding nowhere in particular, just basking in the freedom and each other’s presence. By the time you returned to the compound, the sun had begun to rise. You’d been late, reckless even, but you wouldn’t have changed a second of it.

--

The cemetery was quiet, the kind of silence that wasn’t peaceful but suffocating. You pulled up on the Harley, its hum cutting through the stillness. Killing the engine, you swung your leg over and stepped off, clutching the bouquet of red irises tightly in your hand. They were her favorite—soft, delicate flowers that somehow seemed so unlike her, yet made perfect sense.

Her grave was just a few steps away, but it felt like a mile. Each step was heavier than the last, grief curling around your chest like a vice. When you finally stopped in front of the headstone, the sight of her name carved into the stone stole the breath from your lungs. Natasha Romanoff.

You crouched, setting the flowers down carefully, brushing away a stray leaf that had fallen onto the base of the stone. Your fingers lingered there for a moment before you straightened, your throat tightening as the words left your lips.

“We used to run red lights and never look back,” you whispered, the weight of the memory pressing down on you. “We used to chase long nights. Nothing wrong with that.”

A single tear slipped down your cheek, and you didn’t bother wiping it away. Your voice cracked as you continued. “'Cause I loved you, and I lost my mind. And now, I try to leave it, oh, I try. But you still haunt me, no matter where I go.”

Your heart clenched as yesterday’s encounter replayed in your mind.

--

Yesterday, you’d walked into her favorite coffee shop, the one she always dragged you to despite your insistence that their tea was subpar. The smell of freshly ground beans filled the air as you stepped up to the counter, hands shoved deep into your pockets. And then you saw her—or at least, you thought you did.

Red hair, cut just like hers, swayed as the woman in front of you ordered. Your heart stopped, and for one excruciating second, you were certain it was her. You didn’t breathe, didn’t think, and u tapped her shoulder—

“Natasha?”

The woman turned and the illusion shattered. A stranger’s face looked back at you, startled by you. Your cheeks burned as you stammered an apology, backing away and leaving the shop without ordering.

You’d walked down the street aimlessly, hands buried in your jacket pockets, head bowed, the lump in your throat refusing to go away. The rest of the day passed in a fog, and now here you were, standing in front of her grave with her favorite flowers and an ache in your chest you couldn’t shake.

--

You let out a soft, bitter laugh as you glanced at the small container of lasagna you’d brought with you. “Yeah. I though you'd like a date."

“You hated my lasagna,” you murmured, the corner of your lips twitching upward in a faint, humorless smile. “But you came back for more.”

The memory of her teasing you played vividly in your mind.

--

It was the first time she stayed over. She’d stood in your tiny kitchen, arms crossed and a smirk tugging at her lips as she watched you served her the rather lovely looking piece of lasagna.

“This is terrible,” she’d said to damage the ego of yours when you had claimed to make a mean lasagna earlier. She’d wrinkled her nose dramatically, setting her fork down with a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips.

You’d rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. “You’re the worst liar I’ve ever met.”

"This is horrible," she’d declared once more, her voice laced with mock seriousness. “Truly, the worst lasagna I’ve ever had.”

"Oh, screw you,” you’d shot back, rolling your eyes. “Go back to your fancy spy food then.”

She’d shrugged, trying to suppress a laugh. “It’s edible, at least.”

You’d mock-glared at her, muttering something under your breath about ungrateful assassins, but she’d just grinned and pulled you into a kiss, the taste of lasagna still on her lips.

But the very next day, she’d shown up at your apartment with an empty Tupperware container. “So, uh, I was thinking… maybe I could take some of that ‘terrible’ lasagna to go?”

“You mean the one you hated?”

“Exactly. Got any left?”

It had become a tradition after that, every other week. She never admitted it was her favorite, but you caught the way her face lit up every time you mentioned making it.

--

You closed your eyes, the laughter from that memory fading into the echo of another. “And then there was that night when I didn’t even have lasagna or anything to cook, but you wanted to, so you dragged me to your favorite grocery store.”

--

Her favorite grocery store. You still found that absurd. She’d grabbed a cart and immediately started tossing the most random assortment of items inside—marshmallows, soy sauce, canned peaches. You’d followed her with a bewildered look, questioning every choice she made.

“Trust me,” she’d said, her lips twitching with amusement. “I have a plan.”

She didn’t have a plan. By the time you reached the checkout, you were certain half the things in the cart weren’t even going to be used. She’d sent you on wild goose chases, making you circle the store in search of things that didn’t exist, claiming it was “good cardio.”.

The store clerk had given you a look that screamed off your rocker, when you'd asked him for canned brussel sprouts, and you’d playfully glared at her while she doubled over in laughter., when the man walked away muttering something about kids nowdays, when you were probably just a few year younger than him

“You’re impossible,” you’d muttered.

“And you love it,” she’d shot back, leaning in to kiss you softly. She made up for the chaos by still eating the lasagna, no matter how strange the ingredients were that night.

--

“You got me running circles in your favorite store,” you murmured now, your fingers brushing the irises. “And I lost you, and I lost my mind.”

--

You actually had lost it.

The day Clint came back without her.

You hadn’t believed it at first. You’d waited for her to walk in after him, your heart pounding in anticipation. But when he looked at you with tear-filled eyes, the truth hit you like a freight train.

You’d snapped.

“You left her?!” you’d screamed, shoving him back. He hadn’t fought back, guilt etched into every line of his face.

Steve had stepped in, trying to calm you down, but his words only made it worse. “You need to stop—”

“Don’t you dare tell me to stop!” you’d yelled, your voice raw with anguish.

And then you’d turned on Clint, your fist connecting with his jaw. You were ready to hit him again, to make him pay for leaving her, to take out all your pain and anger on him, but Tony had stepped in, pulling you away. He’d wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly as you broke down.

You’d sobbed against him, your grief spilling out in heaving, uncontrollable waves.

--

Now, you stared at her name, your voice a broken whisper. “And now, I try to leave it all behind. But I still see you, no matter where I go.”

--

Just this morning, you’d seen a blonde walking down the street, her face inexplicably morphing into Natasha’s for a fleeting second. You’d blinked, and her face was gone, leaving you shaken and hollow.

--

The picture was worn, its edges frayed from the number of times you’d taken it out, clinging to it like a lifeline. Wanda had taken it during one of those rare, blissful moments at the compound. You and Nat had been baking—well, trying to bake. The kitchen had ended up more like a battleground of flour and dough than anything resembling culinary success.

The memory unfolded vividly in your mind.

“You call this a cookie?” she’d teased, holding up your misshapen attempt.

“You’re one to talk, Miss Burnt-to-a-Crisp,” you’d fired back, smirking as you threw a handful of flour at her.

She’d retaliated instantly, laughing as she chased you around the kitchen with her own handful of flour, her laughter so pure and carefree it still echoed in your mind. And then, just as you’d both caught your breath, you’d pulled her under the mistletoe.

“Oh, real subtle,” she’d said, a playful glint in her eye.

“Can’t waste an opportunity,” you’d replied, leaning in to kiss her, the taste of laughter still fresh on your lips.

Wanda had snapped the photo just moments after the kiss. Both your faces had been smeared with flour, and your grins had been so wide they’d hurt. You hadn’t cared. You’d never felt more in love, more alive, than you had in that moment.

Now, standing in front of her grave, you gently rubbed your thumb over her part of the photo, your eyes misting over. She looked so happy, so effortlessly beautiful.

“If I could turn back time and make it all alright,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Only a piece of you and me will keep me warm all night. If I could turn back time and rewrite every line… If only I could, but baby, I can’t.”

Your legs gave out as the weight of it all crushed you, and you fell to your knees. The photo slipped from your fingers, landing softly on the grass as you wrapped your arms around the cold stone, holding it as though it were her.

The sobs tore from your chest, raw and guttural, as you screamed into the silence, your voice breaking with the force of your anguish.

“Why did you leave me?” you choked out, your forehead pressing against the stone. “Why did you have to go?”

You shouted her name, again and again, your cries reverberating through the stillness of the cemetery. It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair. She was supposed to be here. You were supposed to grow old together, to share more laughs, more kisses, more everything.

But she was gone.

And all you had left were memories and a photo, a cruel reminder of everything you’d lost.

You stayed there, clutching her grave like it was the only thing tethering you to this world, as the pain poured out of you in waves. And for the first time in a long while, you let yourself feel it all—the love, the loss, the unbearable ache of missing her.

So I'ma scream, shout, let it all out And scream and shout and let it all out for you, for you So I'ma scream, shout, let it all out And scream and shout and let it all out for you, for you

--

The cold of the stone seeped into your skin as you stayed on your knees, still clutching her headstone as though holding on tighter might somehow bring her back. You’d been sitting in silence for a while now, your sobs reduced to quiet sniffles. But the memories kept coming, relentless and vivid, dragging you back into the moments you couldn’t escape.

Your voice was hoarse as you began again, barely above a whisper. “A few days after we lost you... and Tony…” you paused, swallowing hard as the grief twisted in your chest. “After we beat Thanos, after we saved the world, it didn’t feel like a victory. It felt hollow without you.”

You pulled back slightly, sitting back on your heels as your gaze fell to the flowers you’d brought. “I couldn’t face anyone. Not Steve, not Bruce, not Clint…” You clenched your fists, the memory cutting through the fog of your grief. “So I went to a bar. Alone. It was the middle of the night, and I just wanted to forget, even if it was just for a little while.”

The scene played out in your mind like it had happened yesterday.

The bar had been dimly lit and nearly empty. You’d taken a seat in the corner, ordering drink after drink, trying to drown the ache in your chest. But it hadn’t worked. No amount of alcohol could fill the gaping hole she’d left behind.

By the time you were drunk, you’d pulled out your phone. Your fingers had hovered over her name in your contacts, and before you could think better of it, you’d hit call.

It had gone straight to voicemail.

Your voice cracked as you recited the words you’d said that night, the pain still fresh. “I hit you up like, ‘Hey, girl, can we talk right now?’ I know you’re far away, but… ‘Can we hang right now?’”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head at your own desperation. “I tried again. And again. But every time, it was the same. Straight to voicemail.”

You remembered slurring into your phone, your voice thick with tears and alcohol. “It’s me. I just… I just need to hear your voice. Please, Nat. I don’t know what to do without you.”

You’d hung up after the fifth attempt, throwing your phone onto the sticky bar counter in frustration. The bartender had looked at you with pity, but you didn’t care.

“I loved you, and I lost my mind,” you whispered again, your thumb absentmindedly brushing over the photo on the ground beside you. “And now I try to leave it all behind. But you still haunt me, no matter where I go.”

You ran a hand through your hair, exhaling shakily. “That night… I kept talking to you like you were still there. Like maybe, somehow, you’d hear me.”

Your voice dropped to a whisper as you repeated your drunken plea. “I know it’s getting late, girl, I don’t care right now. I tried to call you on the phone, but you don’t pick up.”

The weight of it all came crashing down again, and you looked up at the stone, tears streaming down your face. “I lost you, Nat. And I lost my mind. And now I’m trying to leave it… I’m trying so damn hard. But you… you still haunt me. No matter where I go.”

Your hands trembled as you reached for the photo again, holding it tightly to your chest. The image of her flour-covered, grinning face was a cruel reminder of everything you’d lost.

-

As you finally rose to your feet, feeling the weight of the moment, you took a deep breath. The grief, the pain, the endless ache in your chest—it was a part of you now, something you couldn’t outrun. As you stepped away from her grave, your mind replayed one final memory, a memory that cut deeper than all the rest.

Your last argument.

--

It had been after one of the most dangerous missions you’d ever been on. You’d almost died saving her, and despite everything, the first thing she’d done when you’d woken up in the medbay wasn’t to hold you or to tell you how grateful she was. It was to push you away.

“Tasha, what’s wrong?” you had asked, your voice weak but desperate to understand.

She had avoided your gaze, her arms folded across her chest, her eyes scanning the floor as if she couldn’t bear to meet yours.

“Maybe it’s a mistake,” she had muttered, barely above a whisper. “Maybe it’s a mistake if we let the clock break.”

You had frowned, completely confused. “What? What the hell are you talking about?”

Her lips had tightened, and she had taken a deep breath before meeting your eyes. There was a coldness in her stare that hadn’t been there before, a defensive barrier she hadn’t needed with you. “We’ve been through so much, and I… I’m scared, okay?”

You had shaken your head, trying to wrap your mind around the words. “Scared? Scared of what? Us?”

She had nodded slightly, the hesitation in her voice more painful than you ever thought it would be. “I’ve been thinking about it. Everything in my mind… everything in my mind is telling me that it’s a mistake.”

The words had hit you like a punch to the gut.

“What the hell? No! You’re wrong, Nat. This—us—this isn’t a mistake. We’re solid. We’re gonna be okay.”

But she had shaken her head, her eyes welling with tears. “You don’t get it,” she had whispered. “I’m trying to protect you. I’m trying to keep you from getting hurt. If we keep going like this…” She couldn’t finish the thought. She didn’t want to.

You had pushed forward, your frustration and confusion bleeding into anger. “So you’re just gonna shut me out? After everything? After I almost died to save you?” Your voice had risen, your chest tightening with a mix of hurt and disbelief. “You don’t get to pull away from me, Natasha. I’m not going anywhere. We’re in this together. Always.”

Her face had faltered then, the tightness in her features melting just enough for you to see the raw fear she was hiding.

“I know you think that. I know you believe that. But everything in my mind, everything in my mind is telling me…” Her voice had cracked as she choked out the last words, her tears spilling over as she struggled to admit what was hurting her most. “That it’s a mistake… and it ends in heartbreak.”

The silence between you had been suffocating. It hadn't been the first time she had ever admitted something so vulnerable, something so painfully real, yet this time it was different. You had stood there, frozen, trying to process her words. You had wanted to reach out, to hold her, to make her understand that none of that mattered, that you were stronger than fear.

You had taken a deep breath, your hands shaking as you had gotten off the bed and stepped closer to her, trying to close the gap that had formed between you both. “No. No, Nat. You’re not listening to me. You’re not the one who gets to decide what happens between us. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not. We’re gonna be okay. We’re gonna fight this together. You and me. Always.”

Her face had softened then, her breath shaky as she met your gaze, her shoulders sagging, finally giving in. “I don’t want to lose you.”

You had wrapped your arms around her, pulling her in close as you whispered, “You won’t. I’m here, Nat. I’m not going anywhere. We’ll figure this out. Together.”

She had clung to you, tears soaking your shirt, her face buried in your neck. You had held her tight, reassuring her over and over, “We’re gonna be okay. I’m not going anywhere. We’re in this together. Forever, you hear me?”

And in that moment, the tension that had been hanging between you two slowly started to fade, replaced with the warmth of your embrace and the quiet certainty that, no matter what, you would find your way back to each other.

“Together.” She had whispered, her voice thick with emotion, and you had nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over you.

You had pulled back slightly to look her in the eye. “Always.”

And with that, you both had finally breathed, both of you knowing that no matter what came next, you would face it together—united, strong, and ready for whatever the world threw at you.

--

And now, standing at her grave, you could only wish you had more time to make it all right. You could still feel her arms around you, the weight of her presence in your soul.

But she was gone, and you were left to pick up the pieces.

“Guess who got the heartbreak, Nat.” you whispered bitterly, the words more for yourself than for her.

And with a last look at the stone, at least for this week, you turned around, pocketing the picture of you too.

If you could turn back time and make it alright, you would, but you couldn't

---

.

[ashblooddragons]

The Red Queen (Chapter 14/?)

Series Masterlist

Kingslanding 

113 ac

Your pov

I try to ignore the wails and screams that fills the halls. The swish of maids dresses as they rush down the halls with bloody rags trying to find clean ones. The whispers of courtiers trying to decide if the babe will be a boy or not. 

I try, but I find even a deaf man would hear the wails that fill the keep. 

All this pain for a babe? I think solemnly looking down at my flat belly. To think that one day a babe would one day grow there is baffling. 

“Her Grace needs more hot water.” I hear a frantic maid say most likely to another maid. 

I remember how happy I was finding out I was gonna be a big sister, now I wish I wasn't if only for her. 

Papa and Ali asked for me to come to his chambers. I try to figure out on the way what it could be about. 

Maybe there's gonna be another wedding? Nyra is betrothed to Laenor. I think just before the doors to Papa’s chambers open. 

“Ah wonderful you're both here!” Papa says when I enter. I notice Nyra sitting next to him scowling towards Ali who only hangs her head and twists her fingers.

“Yes we're both here, now what do you need?” Nyra asks in that tone of hers. She's been speaking this way ever since Ali married Papa. I don't get why she blames Ali, Ali said she couldn't stop it even if she wanted to, and it seemed like she wanted to. 

Papa grimaces at Nyras tone before smiling again. 

“I-no we have wonderful news. The Queen is with child!” Papa exclaims taking Ali's hand in his not even looking at her.

I smile ear to ear when I hear this. “I'm gonna be a big sister?” I ask excitedly as I rush over to Ali touching her belly.

I never got the chance before, Papa said Mama was too sick that it just wouldn't happen for a while. But then she did, but then she passed. 

With that thought I look up at Ali worriedly and she seems to notice my fears as she speaks next. 

“The Maesters say it should be a healthy pregnancy. No complications, at least from what they can tell as of now.” 

I smile wider, staring at her still flat belly trying to figure out if I'm gonna have a sister or brother. But then Nyra scoffs and glares at Ali.

“It's only been three moons since your wedding, and you're already with child? Interested.” She says as if she knows some dark secret and is all too happy about it. 

I'm confused why the time between their marriage and the baby being here is important. I mean we all saw them kiss at the wedding, and many times after. It was only a matter of time those kisses made a baby. 

Before Ali can cry from Nyras cruel words or Papa yell at Nyra I decide to speak. 

“This is great, do we know if it's a boy or a girl?” 

This makes Ali laugh as she looks down at me stroking my wild hair back. I know she knows own. I just went for a fly, I had told her that Srromchaser has been sad lately and I hoped a fly would help.

“We won't know until they are born. But what do you hope for?” 

My immediate thought is that I hope Ali lives and doesn't pass away like Mama. But I know I can't say that, this is a happy moment, no sad thoughts allowed. 

“I want a,” I start stopping to think one last time before responding. “Sister!” I decide with a nod.

She smiles down at me, she finally seems happy again. Like the Ali I knew before Nyra was mad at her and Papa married her. 

“Oh but a son would be helpful, don't you want a brother, Darling?” Papa says with a forced grin.

I try not to frown at his words, Papa always wanted a son I never understood why though. 

But what made me the most upset was how his words took away Alis smile. She was finally happy and he just had to ruin it. 

I'm brought back when the screams finally stop, I feel my heart stop, I can't breathe.

Why is it so quiet? Shouldn't there be a babe crying? Surely if I can hear her screams all the way across the keep I would hear a babes cries? I think frantically as I climb out of bed clutching my Caraxes plush. 

I move to open the door only to find Ser Criston. He doesn't seem to have noticed me having seemingly also been co fused by the sudden quiet. 

“Is she alright, oh please say she's alright Criston.” I beg tears rolling down my cheeks. 

He looks down at me frowning before kneeling and taking my hands in his much larger ones. 

“I don't know, but I am going to find out. Stay here, a guard will be in front of your door. I will be back as soon as I can with news.” Ser Criston says before standing and turning down the hall in search of a maid or maester with news.

I try not to think about how he didn't say good news, only news. I know there is a chance she could die, but I prayed, I prayed so much she wouldn't. I prayed to the Seven like she taught me, to the old gods, I even tried to pray to the Valyrian ones like Kepus taught me. So surely one of them heard me and will follow my prayers. 

I turn back into my chambers wiping my tears walking towards Orchid. She quickly sits me in her lap showing me the new hat she made for her son Noah. 

“I was thinking of putting little stars along the hem, and for his sister Clover well she will have flowers. She says trying to distract me from the cruel wait to know if all is well. 

I nod my head as I move Caraxes wings up and down pretending he is actually in the skins and not just a plush in my arms. 

Kepus wouldn't make me wait this long, he'd let me know right away. I think eyeing the door for any moment when finally after what feeling like moons a knock comes to the door.

“The Queen awaits you, Your Grace.” I hear Criston say through the door. 

Orchid quickly sets me on my feet and slips my wool slippers on as well as my silk shawl ‘to keep the cold away’ she says. Before running to the door with Caraxes still clutched in my arms.

“Is she alright? Is the babe? Oh please tell me they are alright!” I plead as he takes my hand in his guiding me towards the Queen's chambers. 

He smiles down at me before nodding and I feel all the worry leave my body. I fight the tears of relief that they are alright, that they are still breathing, that they hadn't passed like Mother and Baelon did. 

I can't help but notice all the courtiers who stand outside the Queen's chambers. I hear them whisper about how if it's a boy it would be the heir. 

If it's a boy it would be heir? I wouldn't feel all this stress anymore? I wouldn't have all of court watching me? I think excitedly before remembering that if it is a boy it will feel all this stress, fear, and crushing weight on him.

No please don't let it be a boy, I don't want anyone to feel this, let alone a innocent babe. I pray to any gods that will hear me.

Ser Ceiston pushes them all out of our way until we yet to the doors. 

“The Queen and King are excited to see you.” He says before opening the door and letting me in.

I step in taking in the sight of Papa talking to maester about something, and of Ali holding a bundle of blankets in her arms. I watch with bated breaths as she lifts her head to look at me. Her smile lights the room from its pure joy. 

“Come here.” She says waving me over. 

I waste no time running over to her tears of relief finally rolling down my cheeks. I climb into the bed sluggling into her side crying into her chest.

“What's wrong, Sweetheart?” She asks stroking my hair back so she can wipe my tears as they fall.

“I thought something bad happened, that you would be like-like.” I can't even finish the sentence but thankfully she seems to understand as she hums before responding.

“Me and your brother are perfectly fine.” She says and I can't help but look up at her wide eyed.

“I have a baby brother?” I ask looking down at the black and gold blanket again. 

“Yes, his name is Aegon.” 

I smile big as I move the blanket to the side to see his chubby cheeks and silver gold wisps. 

“Like the conquer. I love it.” I say stroking his cheek. 

His skin feels so soft, so fragile, like the finest silk. His cheeks are red and he seems to be asleep as his eyes are closed and he has yet to open them. 

“I'm glad you like them, now I have two wonderful children. You and Aegon.” She says and I freeze turning to look up at her. 

I see the joy bit also the fear in her eyes. But I don't know why she is afraid, I would be over joyed to be her child as well.

“Well we are lucky to have such a good Mama.” I respond and I see her wipe at her eyes fighting tears. At first I think she is sad but then she smiles and kisses my brow and I know they are happy tears. 

“Can I hold him?” I ask to which she nods telling me to sit with my back against the head board and hold my arms out in front of me. 

When Aegon is set into my arms I'm shocked how heavy he is. He's so tiny surely he isn't that heavy? I think looking down at him once he is in my lap. 

“He's so cute.” I whisper excitedly to Ali.

“He truly is.” She says shifting her position only to whince in pain. 

I frown going to ask if she is alright when she kisses my cheek and looks down at Aegon again.

“He looks just like you. Just with Papa’s hair, and I don't know what his eyes look like.” I whisper to her.

“You think so? All of the men say he looks like the King. And I hadn't gotten a close look at his eyes, but I do know they are purple.” She says stroking Aegons nose making him scrunch it up in annoyance making us both giggle.

It always strikes me as odd how she always refers to Papa as ‘the King', they are married and yet they only call each other by their titles. King, Queen, Wife, Husband, anything but their names or a sweet nickname. But instead of bringing it up I shrug it off like always looking down at my little brother again.

“I'm your big sister, I'll always protect you. Even when your big and strong, I'm gonna protect you from the bad people here. I'll guide you, teach you Valyrian, I even have toys you can pick from. Just not my Caraxes and Stormchaser plushes. Oh and not my dolly either, she looks just like me, even had my eyes.” I whisper down to him excitedly.

In my excitement I miss how Nyra walks in only to storm out once she hears its a son. But what I wish I didn't miss was how Papa stares at Aegon with disdain, and how the Hand looks at him like a tool. But Ali does, and because of this she holds me and Aegon closer silently swearing to the gods to always protect us even if it meant her demise.

Special thanks to my bestie @sugutoad for making the header for this fic! I swear I'd be lost without you girly!

TAGLIST: @sugutoad @ilikefelines @classicsimpforaaronwarner @sachaa-ff @mmogurl @athzhowakar @themoonlitquill @thelastemzy @fallenxjas

[thiccpersonality]

5 Times Bruce Was Protective of His Pups (+2 Times They Were Protective of Him)

4: The Girls

⚠️WARNING⚠️: there is suicide mentions and attempts in this chapter. Nothing overly graphic, but it is mentioned, so I just thought I should forewarn of that just in case my loves.

Enjoy! 💛

—

Barbara remembers when she first met Batman, it was a pivotal moment in her life, a time where she was just an insecure teenager trying to find her way in the world. She remembers being bright eyed and curious towards her Uncle Jim when she found out he worked with the mysterious Batman; Gotham's faithful caped protector. But before that, it was a point and time in her life that she doesn't like remembering too often (before meeting the Bat that is), she was still suffering the loss of her parents even after all the years of coping–okay, maybe coping isn't the right word exactly? 

Try: lashing out and being rebellious.

It seems as if everything in her life got harder after her parents tragic passing: she couldn't concentrate in school anymore, she could start fights as much as she defended herself from them, she talked back in a way she never used to before, her moods felt unstable most days and seemed to grow worse the older she got, etc.

She felt like the world was out to get her now that her parents-her protection-went away.

As if just because her guardians are no longer in her life that it gives the world the right to bully her.

There were times that she felt guilty over her attitude...especially towards her uncle, he was nothing but patient and kind to her, even when she was being an ass to him, and he quickly started to become like a second dad to her. Something that made Barbara feel guilty and distressed, because it's not like she was trying to replace her biological father, she just...she just recognized that firm yet gentle attitude Jim has as being similar in a way only a father's can be like. Sometimes she believes that's why she talked to Uncle Jim the way she did as a teen, all because she felt guilt over 'replacing' her parents when that's not what it was at all, she was just finally learning to move on.

Barbara may not like to look back at her teenage years too fondly, but she does hold close the sincere affection from her uncle and the day she met Batman, a day that she'll never forget as long as she lives.

————°————

Barbara stumbles back into her teacher's desk, her eyes red and tears hot as they pour from her eyes, her breathes sharp as she loudly inhales for air. Glare held onto the door where another student is being dragged out of it by another teacher, a feeling of satisfaction bubbling up in her chest at the sight of their nose dripping with blood, it's what they get for picking on her so much. The young teen snaps out of her anger induced haze at the feel of a cool cloth being softly pressed to her knuckles, her red rimmed eyes being drawn up to her math teacher. "Barbara."

The ginger only responds with a sniffle, avoiding her teacher's stare in favor of looking at the chalkboard.

"Barbara-" they sigh softly-"you know I'm going to have to call your uncle. You promised me that you wouldn't get into any more altercations with other students, and this fight ended up with someone's nose being bloody."

The girl furrows her brows in displeasure, glaring at the chalkboard at the thought of her uncle finding out about another fight...again. "It wasn't my fault! Lorraine is always being a jerk to me all the time. She started the fight by cornering me...so I decided to end it." Barbara hisses as the pain in her knuckles finally registers, the washcloth dabbing softly at the cuts to her hands, the adult humming at their student's side of the story. "Okay, she shouldn't have cornered you, I agree with that. But, you are a very bright girl, Barbara, and sadly in public school there are...rules and ways both teachers and students have to conduct themselves, okay? I know most of the fights you get into are with bullies...but there's only so many times I can try sticking up for you before the school expels you-"

Barbara snatches her hands away from the cloth, her eyes stinging with unshed tears from the unfair treatment, "But why don't they expel the kids who are picking on me?! I'm not allowed to do anything for myself." The adult opens their mouth to try and explain, closing it instead and pulling out ointment for Barbara to put on her cuts while softly telling her, "Make sure to use it this time...stop letting it hurt on purpose. I'm going to call your uncle now, try to cool down and remember that there's snacks in the lower drawer."

Barbara rolls her eyes and sits in the teacher's chair instead, resting her face in the crook of her arms and forsaking the ointment, dropping it in one of her backpack's side pockets and closing her eyes to think.

.

.

.

.

"-bara." A hand gently rests on the teens shoulder, shaking her body gently. "Barbara, wake up, it's time to head on home." A soft groan escapes the sleeping figure, Barbara sitting up with her eyes closed and smacking her lips as she tries to wake up, when did she even fall to sleep?

The sound of the voice speaking quietly to her registers in Barbara's sleep addled mind, her eyes snapping open to look up at her Uncle Jim Gordon, guilt rising up in her at seeing how tired the other man looks...probably because of her. "Hi...I don't wanna go home right now." The older man stares at his niece before conceding with a tired sigh, "Alright...we won't go home yet. How does burgers sound to you?" Jim nods in thanks to the math teacher before leading Barbara out of the classroom, the girl humming in thought before answering. "It depends on if burgers come with fries and a milkshake?" Jim smirks at his niece, deciding that he can spend a few extra bucks on the younger, what he wanted to say being forgotten as he finally gets a good look at Barbara, frowning at her puffy eyes and scratched knuckles. "Babs, what happened to your hands? Did you get into another fight today?" Jim questions, snatching one of the girl's hands into his own, stopping them in the middle of the school entrance and watching his niece's face closely as she frowns in displeasure.

"Mr. Halloway didn't tell you?" 

Barbara chances a glance at the older man, shoulders tensing at the unhappy look he's giving her. "So...he didn't tell you, why did you even come here when you didn't know what happened?"

Jim rubs at his forehead with a sigh, his tone matter of fact, as if what he's saying is something the younger should already know. "Why wouldn't I come and get you? Your teacher said that you needed me to come to you...it sounded really serious-" he stops as the shorter snatches her hand away, hiding the bruised flesh behind her back as she rolls her eyes, clicking her tongue at the man's concern.

"Well it's nothing, so, you came here for no reason. It was just a fight. I could have walked home by myself."

Barbara makes her way out of the school and towards her uncle's car, the man hot on her heels as she tries to downplay the situation, his voice tight with barely restrained emotion towards his niece. "Barbara-wait! Would you just...stop for one second-" he gently grabs the girl's wrist-"I came here for a perfectly good reason; you are that reason and that's all I need to go anywhere for you. And second, you know I don't like you walking home alone. Third, you keep getting into fights...there is obviously something going on and I want to know what that is, but I can't try to help when you won't open up to me and say anything. And Mr. Halloway called me but didn't explain because he said he wanted you to have the choice to do so."

Barbara digs her nails into the palms of her hands, pulling her wrist away from her uncle's careful hold as she narrows her eyes at him accusingly.

"Cut it with the shit! You always say you'll be there for me when I need you, but you weren't there when my parents died, were you?!" Her words are sharp as she hisses at the older man, like knives expertly targeting its mark as they dig into his heart, Jim frowning down sadly at Barbara.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Barbara, I tried to help your father in any way that I could, but-"

Barbara doesn't know what came over her...she just feels like everyone is against her lately, always making excuses as to why people are able to treat her the way they do, always an excuse as to why she isn't allowed to act the way she does.

Jim sucks in a sharp breath at the stinging slap to his cheek, it's not the worst hit he's taken...but his eyes water simply because of who it's coming from, he doesn't know what to say to start helping Barbara. Eversince her mother and father's passing, there's been a rift between their relationship because he-he wasn't there for the family in the way he should have been, he knows deep down that there's not much he could have done, he can't help someone that doesn't want to be helped, and seeing his brother's alcohol addiction slowly consume his life was soul crushing; to see the person he ate, slept, played with and fought with lose himself to the bottom of a bottle just like their father was a horrifying realization.

But he tried.

God, did Jim try to get his brother help, especially when seeing his behavior change towards his wife and daughter: getting snippier, shouting and screaming for no reason, putting his hands on people, harshly speaking to his daughter in a way that was deeply concerning.

Barbara was a bit too young and innocent at the time to truly pay much attention to those things, not saying she didn't notice them, but she always made little excuses for her dad to avoid the revelation of just how much her father has changed. Every question he would ask his little niece about their home life whenever he next saw her was met with the innocent exclamation of, "My daddy's just a bit tired from work! He throws tantrums like I do sometimes when I'm sleepy!" It hurt to see. But there wasn't much he could do as his sister-in-law didn't want to press charges at the time, she loved his brother so much that it hurt, all for the sake of trying to stay long enough to help him seek help.

Every plead to her for herself and Barbara to live in his little apartment as long as they needed went unheard as the woman insisted that all she needed was enough time for her husband to grasp what she was begging to him about. That one day it'd click and he'd understand the severity of his actions.

But that day never came.

It was a surprisingly cool summer afternoon when it happened; a Saturday, when Jim and Barbara excitedly waved off her parents, the family excited as Roger woke up that day suddenly agreeing to rehab and therapy to deal with personal issues that were causing him to drink.

It was too good to be true, but Jim and Barbara thought nothing of it, celebrating with pizza and ice cream while his niece jumped around the house screaming about how her daddy was finally going to be better. Things were going so well too that day, Roger even having a surprisingly cheerful countenance as he told the family about his decision, the soft look in his eyes unassuming as he looked at his teary eyed daughter; they thought it was just him realizing how much he loves his family.

The too tight-almost desperate-hug Roger gave to Jim and Barbara before leaving was chalked up to a promise that things will only get better from there.

And the kiss the man gave to his wife was slow and passionate; intimate, as if it was a goodbye, the woman just giggling into the kiss as she called Roger's name breathlessly-and somewhat fretfully-at the fact he kissed her that way in front of family. No one thought anything of Roger taking the car keys from Thelma with a small smirk on his face, insistent on how he really wants to drive as he gave one last close look at his brother and daughter before leaving. 

It was only a few hours later when Jim received a call, his sleep being interrupted as he reached for his phone quickly, hoping that he wasn't being called in for work...but anything would have been better than what he answered to.

A car crash; suicide.

He arrived at the scene after leaving his worried and confused niece with a trustworthy neighbor, walking up to a sorrowful looking police partner as they handed him a suicide note that was carefully placed in a small, beautifully decorated jewelry box taped inside the glove compartment with a necklace for Barbara inside of it. The note mentioned that Roger loved his family a lot, especially Barbara, and that he never wants her to think anything that happened was her fault...but that he was unwell for a long time and sought help on his own, stating that the drinks never truly filled that hole inside of him due to the cracks inside, he can't stay full when there's leaks inside the building. He asked for Jim to take care of his daughter and be there for her in a way that he couldn't, that he made the decision to take Thelma with him because he knew she'd be heartbroken if he died on his own, but that Jim and Barbara are strong enough to continue living their lives.

Jim felt like throwing away the note because he felt so...so...angry at his brother for doing what he did, he hated thinking it, but he felt like Roger was being cowardly. Running as he always did like when they were growing up and things got too hard for him, never properly wanting to face the consequences of his actions and leaving anyone and everyone who's ever cared about him to deal with the fallout of it.

It was surreal to go back home to Barbara, the small pup running up to him with her nose twitching, scenting her uncle's distressed scent as she bumped her head carefully into his legs and hugged onto him, trying to comfort him even though she didn't know what was going on yet.

It was the moment he told her what happened that their relationship shifted with each other.

And now, after a few years later, Jim is left with a bitter and upset teenager.

The alpha blinks away his tears-and his thoughts-breathing out slowly, opening the door for his niece and gesturing for her to get in the car. Barbara grinds her teeth together, looking down at her hands and cursing herself for being so difficult, she didn't mean to hit her uncle. A part of her wants to apologize, but another stubborn part of her insists that she has no reason to, so, she keeps her lips shut tight as Jim sits in the driver's seat.

"What burger do you want? The usual you always get?"

Barbara looks at the alpha in disbelief...she...hit him out of anger...and he wants to feed her?

The teen feels her lip wobble in guilt, sitting on her hands to keep them from doing something impulsive to hurt herself with and lowering her head so that her orange hair falls down slightly trembling shoulders to cover the remorseful look she knows that is on her face. "Home."

Jim bites at his lip to stop himself from saying anything to the beta, sighing tiredly and turning on the car so they can head on home.

XXX

Barbara jumps out of the car as soon as it's in park, ignoring her uncle calling for her as she pulls out the extra house key from her backpack and unlocks the door, slamming it in Jim's face just for show at this point, still not wanting the older man to know just how sorry she feels.

The girl rushes to her room and shuts it quickly at hearing the front door opening, locking it and resting her head against it, finally allowing her tears of regret and frustration to fall. "Shit, Barbara, what were you thinking? Are you stupid or something?" She tugs at her hair harshly in the hopes of grounding herself, dumping her backpack onto the floor and pushing away from the door to flop onto her bed, burying her face in the pillow and screaming into it before turning her head to the side to look at her slightly busted knuckles.

Barbara sighs as she flexes her fingers, breath hitching as the torn skin stings slightly from the stretch, her eyes drifting to the fallen backpack by her door as she thinks about what Mr. Halloway said, "Stop letting it hurt on purpose." 

The slight pain to her hand brings Barbara out of her thoughts, sighing as her stomach also rumbles loudly in hunger, the young girl rolls onto her back and groans up at the ceiling as she whispers to herself, "Should've went for that burger." The beta squints her eyes in deep thought before turning to rummage through her drawer, pulling out enough cash from saving her allowance to get a burger and fries, "I don't need anyone. I can walk on my own."

Barbara rolls off her bed and stuffs the cash inside of her shoe, tiptoeing over to the window and opening it, shivering at the cool autumn air that brushes against her cheek...at least the walking will keep her warm enough.

The beta climbs down the fire escape, feeling satisfied with leaving her window open so that when Jim comes to check on her all he sees is proof that she "ran off". It's not like she's sneaking out for any bad reasons anyway, she's just really hungry and is going to get herself something to eat...it's not the end of the world just because she decided to walk outside alone, a girl needs her space sometimes.

Barbara allows her mind to wander as she walks, inhaling the crisp autumn air as she feels some of her worries lift a little, she enjoys this season a lot: the changing of the leaves, the soups and warm drinks one consumes during this time of year, the chill to the air that can be the right amount of cool. It's a bit of a bittersweet feeling this season brings too...but she thinks that it's better than feeling so lost, alone and angry as she has been as of late, this time reminds her of her parents and when things were generally going good for her family, her mom always loved to decorate their house with little pumpkins strewn about the room, the omega doing anything she could to get her hands on fall themed apparel to cover her family from head to toe with.

And her dad.

Barbara can almost smell the cinnamon apple tart her dad loved to bake around this time of year, can taste the cinnamon hot chocolate he always allowed her to help make with him.

She just wants to know where it all went wrong...her parents marriage didn't seem to be rocky at the time, and there wasn't anything that she saw or overheard her father struggling with, but it seemed like one night out at the bar turned to two and two into three and so on. Barbara remembers the day her Uncle Jim told her about the accident, she was stunned into silence as he carefully handed the wooden jewelry box to her, not knowing how to feel at the sight of a beautifully delicate necklace with her name engraved on the front.

But she did know how to feel at the, 'I love you always, my heart', that was on the inside of the heart shaped locket; angry. 

Barbara felt as if the words were a lie, because who leaves behind their ten year old daughter to fend for herself just when things started to get better? But, she knew it wasn't her parents fault for someone else's mistake...if anything, she always thought that if anyone would get into a drunk driving accident, that it would be her father and not some stranger who was stupid enough to be on the road at the wrong time.

She remembered thinking about how she'll find the perpetrator someday and bring them in for the murder of her parents-or kill them herself-she's not too picky.

The beta still has the wooden box stashed away in her room...even though she was in pain and hurting from her father getting into a drunk driving accident, she could never find enough strength to open up the box and wear the necklace like how she promised she would, she just stashed it away and never wore the one thing that would remind her of what she loved most. Barbara shakes herself out of her thoughts as she's arrived at her destination, breathing on her cold fingers as she steps inside of the warm building and taking a seat first, giving her own body time to warm up before she thinks of ordering.

The beta sits there for a few minutes, blankly staring at a stain on the table as her mind wanders off again, snapping out of it at a cheery voice speaking to her.

"Mind if I sit here with you?! Looks like there's lots of room!"

Barbara looks up at the stranger, taking note of his fancy looking school uniform and raising a brow at the tray full of two double cheeseburgers and large fries on the boy's tray. "Cheap burgers? You look like you could afford anything you want and you choose to eat this food?"

The beta frowns as the other takes her response as an okay to take a seat across from her, "I don't think I could afford anything on my own? But my mom can! And cheap, greasy burgers are what I like to eat best-don't tell Alfred that though!" The boy-that Barbara surmises is about her age or a bit older or younger...she can't really tell-just smiles giddily at her, the beta's nose twitching as she scents the other and smells the alpha trying to develop on him, the boy not bothered at all by her hesitation. "Uh...who in the world is Alfred?"

The young alpha sticks his nose up and shakes his head, "Sorry. Can't tell you that. I'm not supposed to talk to strangers."

Barbara's hesitation turns to irritation as she scoffs and crosses her arms, "Whatever. You're the idiot that-" she blinks in surprise at the hand the other suddenly extends, that stupidly infuriatingly happy smile still on the boy's face as he introduces himself, "I'm Richard! And what's your name, fair maiden? That way I can tell you who Alfred is without getting into trouble for talking to strangers."

The alpha keeps his hand in midair, shaking it around when all she does is stare at it as if it's an alien species.

Barbara rolls her eyes and slowly brings her hand up to shake Richard's hand, not able to control the smirk as the other shakes it up and down enthusiastically. "My name's Barbara...good sir?"

Richard smiles at the girl's attempt to play along, nodding his head and pushing his tray to the middle of the table and gesturing for her to eat his food. "A name that fits the beauty of the girl who bears it-" his blue eyes drift down to the scrapes and cuts on her hands-"What happened to the hands though? Looks like you punched something."

Barbara leans back against her seat and blows a stray hair out of her eye with a proud smirk, "Try someone."

The boy gasps, eyes shining as he leans forward like a little predator, "Tell me more! Some reason I've been cursed to never see a fight break out at my school-I mean, where's the drama and sense of adventure with those people? Anyway, why'd you punch someone? Were they messing with you-oh, oh! Maybe you were playing the hero and saved someone from being bullied?"

Barbara shakes her head, "If by someone you mean me...then yes. That skank Lorraine deserved it." She growls with a small sniffle, turning her nose up defiantly.

Richard nods in agreement while biting into a fry, "Yeah! Wait...who is Lorraine and why is she a skank-excuse my language."

Barbara finally takes a fry and pops it into her mouth, shaking her head with a tsk, "You have to tell me who Alfred is first and then I'll tell you about Lorraine. So?" The boy perks up and nods, pushing one of his burgers the beta's way, "He's like my grandpa and the family butler."

Barbara furrows her brows as she bites into the burger, voice muffled slightly from the food in her mouth. "B't...s'he the gr'pa or b'tl'r?"

The alpha just smiles and nods, "Yes! But he's the greatest butler-grandpa that any kid could ever ask for. His cooking is really good and he smells really nice and he feeds me good food. That's why I said don't let him know that I said I prefer cheap, greasy burgers...he would feel offended at my taste-or lack thereof-in food."

Barbara snorts in amusement, feeling herself relax under this strange boy's innocently genuine ardor. "Yeah...well, I don't think you have to worry about Alfred finding out about anything, I don't even know who he is or what he looks like...so you are covered there." She bites at her burger again, looking up from her food at the feeling of the alpha's expectant look, slowly realizing what he's waiting for and clearing her throat when she's done chewing. "Right, Lorraine. I don't think there's much to say about her other than she sucks. I...tend to get into a lot of fights at school, and then I'm the one that gets into trouble for it. And while I have started my fair share of fights, it's only because Lorraine and her flock of mindless, spineless bimbo and himbo zombies for 'friends' pick on me. My parents always taught me to stick up for myself and that's exactly what I'm doing."

Richard frowns sympathetically at her, chewing on a fry as he shakes his head disappointedly. "And this is exactly what's wrong with our society today-" he leans forward with an impish gleam in his eyes-"Whaddya say about me convincing my mom to transfer me to your school? He has the money to do it without an issue...and I'm sure I can make a convincing enough presentation for him to allow it."

Barbara hates how easily Richard is able to make her feel happy without an issue, she's almost jealous of the way happiness seems to come naturally to the other.

"Your mom makes you do presentations whenever you wanna do something? I admit...you don't seem like a bad kid, but why would you even come to my school, there's nothing special there? And what would you even say to convince him to transfer you? Cause I'm pretty sure the only reason is that you want to beat someone up, Mr. Where's The Drama." Barbara smiles at Richard and tilts her head, genuinely curious as to what his answers will be.

The alpha places his hand on his chest and gasps in mock offense, "Does it really look like little ol' me could beat up anyone? And mama only makes me present certain things cause he says I need to learn to negotiate things better, says he won't have a son that's easily taken advantage of by sweet words and seemingly good deals...we don't want another zun house incident-anyway! I would come to your school because I'm a good person and want to help a new friend out, and only for that reason, thank you very much! And the thing that would make my mom transfer me issssss—drumroll please?" He drums his fingers against the table, "You are a kid!"

Barbara bites her lip so she doesn't smile so hard, a chuckle escaping her at the reason. "I'm a kid? That's really your strongest powerpoint? I see why your mom makes you do a dissertation explaining why you want to do the things you do, you give such sloppy explanations for yourself." Richard pouts and throws a fry at Barbara's head, smirking at her shout of protest towards the 'attack'. "It's not sloppy, it's camp, Barbara. And you're right...I was wrong, I would have to mention that you are a sad and lonely looking kid too." 

The beta gapes at Richard, stuttering and crossing her arms defensively, she doesn't know if he meant that to hurt or what? It definitely seems like he's being serious which is almost so much worse than him trying to be meanspirited about it—at least dealing with jerks is what she's used to.

No, wait.

Something in Richard's eyes looks oddly...perceptive, causing an emotional whiplash for the girl at how his gaze seems carefully watchful; analytical, gone is the playful shine to his eyes in favor of adopting an odd sort of hardness to them...though Barbara doesn't necessarily feel scared because of the look, at least not for any bad reason. It's just...jarring for the boy's eyes to look so intense while his face is still open and friendly, it's as if his eyes scream of a whole different person that the beta doesn't know about, his stare seeming to strip her down to the bone until nothing but her vulnerable little heart is left on display for him to see.

That's the thing that is scaring her.

And scare her it does, enough for her to stretch over the table to cover the boy's eyes, uncaring of the salt and grease on her hands as she's now left with the alpha's friendly smile.

Yeah...that is definitely creepy how different he appears with just his eyes covered.

"Don't be an ass...I'm not a sad or lonely looking little kid-" Barbara hopes her voice isn't as strained as she feels it is-"What in your drama loving mind made you think that?" Gosh, she doesn't even know what possessed her to ask, but there's almost a desperation to know what he thinks.

Richard taps around the table–searching–until he lands on a fry, popping it into his mouth with a thoughtful hum, "I love a good drama just as much as the next person...but I wasn't trying to be an ass-excuse my language-about it. I noticed the way you were spacing out over here-" Barbara's eyes widen in shock at the finger that rests on her lips to keep her quiet, as if he knew she was going to protest-"and before you say anything sarcastic about it, it wasn't just because you were spacing out that I felt something was off. You...you have that look in your eyes, you know? The one that shouldn't be in anyone's gaze...but especially a kid's."

Barbara feels a bit of that irritation flare up at the accuracy of his claims, but she also feels an odd sense of relief that fills her at being seen for how she actually feels; sad and lonely.

The beta sniffles and plops back into her seat, avoiding eye contact with the alpha and shrugging, "Maybe those dissertations aren't always so sloppy?" She manages a small smile at the surprised laugh escaping Richard, glancing his way as he taps his temple with his index finger. "I still know how to use my brain properly! Just because I'm silly it doesn't mean I'm stupid." Barbara nods and studies the kid as he looks outside the window, his eyes scanning the busy sidewalk as if in search of someone specific, her curiosity is peaked by her new...friend, she doesn't think she's met anyone quite as interesting and perceptive as Richard before.

The two now remain in a surprisingly tranquil quietness, eating their now cool burgers and (somehow) still slightly warm fries in companionable silence.

Barbara can feel herself growing a bit sad as they both finish their food, the boy wiping away any stray crumbs or salt flakes from the table with a napkin and back onto his tray. The silence being broken as Richard softly asks, "Was it both your parents? A parent maybe?" With a small gasp, Barbara looks back up into Richard's eyes again, only to be met with a familiar look in his eyes as he stares at her, his gaze sorrowful and apologetic towards whatever it is she had to go through. 

Barbara feels her eyes watering again, nodding and wiping at her tears to try and get them to stop. "M-My mom and dad. S-Same day. Car accident. D-Drunk driving"

Richard hums and stands from his seat, wrapping his arms around the girl and crying with her when he feels tears wetting the front of his shirt, resting his cheek against the other's head and close to her ear so what he says next is heard by her alone. "I'm sorry, Barb. Mine-" he swallows down the lump in his throat-"mine died on the same day too. It was a murder."

Barbara's eyes widen and she peeks up at the boy, her eyes widened in horror, "W-Were you there to...you know?"

At the young alpha's slow nod, she hugs onto him tighter and sniffles while rubbing his back comfortingly. "T-That's–I'm sorry you had to witness that, I can't imagine how you fe-"

Barbara gasps as one of his hands reaches behind his back to tap at her knuckles softly, the bruised flesh aching the tiniest bit as he does so. "I think you know exactly how I felt...you are still in the process of it and sometimes I still am too, but it's not impossible to-to try moving on...I think it's what our parents would want us to do because they loved us. You should try taking care of your hands when you get back home to whoever you decided to freak out today, don't let the pain stay and become you."

"Master Richard?"

Barbara and said alpha both turn their heads to the entrance, the beta sniffling and pulling away from the warm embrace to rub at her eyes, immediately knowing that the older alpha looking imploringly at Richard is definitely an Alfred...he does smell nice and looks like the best grandpa-butler ever.

Richard glances at Barbara, smiling when the beta turns playful and zips her lips shut, mouthing, "Your secret is safe with me."

The young alpha's smile is blinding as he chuckles and mouths, "Thank you", back at her with a playful wink while exclaiming a little too loudly about how he hopes to see her again someday. Barbara waves goodbye as she watches the two leave the restaurant, a coldness consuming her as she makes up in her mind to head home as quickly as possible.

XXX

Barbara curses softly to herself as she stumbles in through the window, knocking over the pencil holder on her desk and looking up to the bedroom door worriedly, half expecting her uncle to come busting through before she realizes after a minute of standing still that the alpha didn't even hear her. "Thank God-" she mutters and crawls the rest of the way in, shutting the window as softly as she can and smiling victoriously as she got away with it-"Maybe I should go apologize?"

The young beta bites her lip when thinking about Richard and Alfred, at how-even though she barely knows them-the two looked to be close with the way the younger wrapped his arms around the older as they walked away.

The boy also mentioned something about not letting things hurt-just like her teacher did-and even how moving on is possible...she is...not really realizing it-but more so focusing properly on what she knew was already there, how she's afraid of moving on and allowing herself to grow beyond the pain she's felt for a couple years now. Barbara knows that she's almost slipped up and called her Uncle Jim dad before...and that was something that horrified her-that still scares her-and out of that fear she treats her uncle unfairly.

Barbara makes her way over to the door, reaching for the handle and pausing when she sees that it's already cracked open, her curiosity peaked as she calls for her uncle.

"Uncle Jim!" Barbara cracks open the door and pokes her head out with a frown on her face when she doesn't get an answer, that's weird...it's not like her uncle to ignore her calls, he always responds no matter what, even if she's just trying to get on his nerves. "Uncle Jim!?" She tries to ignore the anxiety scratching at her chest as she thinks that maybe he's finally left her, that maybe after dealing with her attitude so much he's finally thrown in the towel and left her alone as she so often screams for the alpha to do.

Barbara swallows down the whimper that wants to escape her and rushes to her uncle's bedroom, poking her head into the dark room and hoping she'll see his sleeping form under the covers.

"Crap!" The beta hisses at the unruffled sheets, rushing out of the room and back to her own to dig through her backpack and pull out her phone, freezing over her uncle's phone number when realizing that's probably why she can't find him, he went to look for her. Barbara curses herself again and looks at the thirty plus missed calls from the alpha and the abundance of text messages asking where she's at and to come back home, that feeling of guilt and shame overtaking her earlier anxiety at how much she's truly putting her uncle through, texting a quick I'm home because she doesn't feel brave enough to call him herself.

After her message goes through, the young teen mutes her phone in worry of the older man's possible response towards her, tossing her phone on her bed and burying her face in her hands. One minute she's in her room and the next Barbara knows, her feet and instincts have carried her to the comfort of her uncle's bedroom and onto his bed, her nose seeking out the man's comforting scent left in the pillows as she buries her face in them.

A whine escapes her as it doesn't feel like enough...she wants her uncle, not the pillows or the bed. She wants to be wrapped in a warm hug and cuddles–why did she ever tell him to leave her alone?

Barbara sniffles and wraps her arms comfortingly around herself before heading over to the closet, searching through it in the hopes of finding something to cover herself with that is her uncle's, her eyes being caught on a familiar looking coat pushed into the very back of the closet, a shocked hiccup escaping her as she reaches for the coat Jim wore the day her parents died. She feels like she shouldn't be reaching for it...let alone putting it on, but there's an odd sense of comfort she feels as she slips the heavy jacket on.

For her, it's a symbol of strength and comfort as this is the same coat her uncle wrapped her up in the day he told her about the accident, the beta's fingers shakily buttoning up the coat and sighing in relief as the warmth consumes her.

Barbara hums contentedly into the collar of the coat, stuffing her hands in the pockets and growing confused at the paper she feels in the right pocket of it. The girl sniffles and steps into the light of the bedroom, eyebrows furrowing in deep thought at the familiar looking scribbles on the piece of paper...why does it look so recognizable?

Blue eyes scan the now open paper slowly as she slowly realizes why the scrawl looks so familiar, it's because her father wrote it. But why would her uncle have a note from her father in his pocket? Barbara feels her heart race as she reads the note, so caught up in the letter that she doesn't hear the front door slamming open and Jim calling her name fretfully, her eyes are glued onto each word as the truth is revealed: her father committed suicide and he took his wife–her mother–with him.

"Barb-" Jim sighs in relief at seeing the young teen standing in his room-"where did you go? I called and I texted you but you never responded."

The alpha frowns at the lack of a response, his concern growing at the scent of tears in the air, a soothing rumble escaping his chest as he steps closer to the girl, eyes widening as the hand he tries to set over her shoulder is slapped away. "Why...why did you never tell me?" Her voice is watery as she asks, turning around and holding up the paper accusingly to her uncle's face, "You told me that it was a drunk driver. Why did you-I don't-my father committed suicide and you never told me?" Barbara narrows her eyes at the taller, laughing incredulously at the look on her uncle's face. "And what's that look for? Disappointed that I finally found out the truth, huh?! You thought you could keep this from me forever and that-that I'd what? Move on someday and be happy thinking someone else killed my parents and got away with it? You thought I couldn't-" her voice wavers-"couldn't handle knowing I wasn't enough for him."

Jim's eyes widen and he shakes his head, a distressed sound escaping him as he stares at the girl's trembling form. "T-That's not what it is, Barbara, I promise that it's not sweetheart. Y-Your father...he was really sick on the inside and felt like there was nothing that could have helped him-"

Barbara balls her hands into fists, the paper crinkling as it's crushed, "Then I guess my mom felt that way too?! She had to leave me as well because I wasn't a good enough pup for her or dad-" the girl nods her head adamantly when the alpha shakes his in refusal-"Yes, yes, that's what it was and you all were-and still are-lying about it! You could never be honest to me about a-anything!" She screams and doesn't bother wiping away her tears, sobbing loudly as she looks down at the note with blurry eyes and mutters. "I-I would have d-done what was needed to fix myself if you all would have just asked." 

Barbara's voice is hoarse as she tapers off, running under her uncle's arms as he tries to hug her and ignoring his shouts for her to come back as she runs out of the apartment door.

.

.

.

.

The beta gasps for air, her lungs burning and legs aching as she finally slows to a stop. Barbara doesn't even know how long she's been running for or how far she's ran, but the buildings no longer look familiar to her, maybe she's too distressed right now to fully pay attention to anything? Her attention, however, is immediately caught by a big looking building that towers over the others built next to it, her mind pushing her to go to the very top just to simply sit.

Yeah, just to sit.

Barbara sniffles and looks inside the window, noticing that there is still someone sitting at the front desk but choosing to step into the building anyway, smiling awkwardly as the receptionist looks up and eyes her suspiciously.

"I'm sorry, we're about to close, and there's no children allowed inside of the building."

The beta glances towards the elevator, wondering how she'll make it to the top floor and to the roof, "U-Um...it was starting to get really cold o-outside, and I lost my way as I was walking, so...I decided to come in here to get warm." She breathes on her hands to add to the helpless look she's going for, sighing into her hands softly in relief as the receptionist looks a bit more concerned now. "Are you okay? Do you...do you need anything to drink? I'm sure we still have hot cocoa in the break room, you can take a seat right over there and I'll bring it to you and then we can call someone to come get you."

Barbara nods her head in thanks and waits for the adult to leave, rushing over to the elevator and keeping an eye out for the receptionist as she waits for it to reach the main floor. The beta breathes a sigh of relief once she finally steps inside the elevator, pressing the button to the highest floor and stuffing her hands in her pockets while spacing out.

Barbara can hardly believe what she was told...I mean, she's been grieving her parents for a couple years now only to find out that they never died because of someone else's recklessness, but because of suicide. Honestly, she feels like it's all her fault...she really does, that's probably the reason why her dad started drinking was because she was too hard to handle–and what about her mom? Did she decide to die alongside her husband because she loved him more than their daughter? It's hard for Barbara not to think that, and a part of her is...jealous, about her dad, at the fact that he held her mother's heart so close to himself in a way that the beta couldn't, maybe her hands were too small at the time to properly hold it in her own?

Another part of the teen feels upset that they both decided to go on without her-they were being selfish when she thinks about it-I mean, Barbara would have gone anywhere with her mom and dad if she could, she remembers all the times that she would attempt to convince her parents to let her work with them because being around them was always so much fun that she never wanted to leave their sides.

But it seems they wanted to leave her's.

The soft 'ding' of the elevator snaps Barbara out of her thoughts, the beta sniffling and wiping away tears she didn't even know were falling as she steps out into the hallway, "I didn't think this through." She sighs softly while digging her palms into her eyes and looking down at her city below, the lights are beautiful from up top and so are Gotham's structures, the building she's in adds to that beauty as it's silent...it hides the chaos she knows is going on ground level, but up here? Up here she can imagine that everything is peaceful and just as pretty as the lights make her city seem.

The more she looks down at the sight below, the more her mind is thinking of jumping down. It's truly a gorgeous sight during the night and Barbara thinks that this would be a beautiful resting place...albeit she won't look so pretty after falling down so far, but isn't that horrifically poetic in a sense? The beauty of Gotham during the night from above and the wretchedness of its citizens down below? She'd be-quite literally-jumping into the fray and adding onto the ugliness she knows to be true, but as she's falling, she can close her eyes and at least remember the beauty for just a moment before she forgets.

Plus, she isn't worried about looking unrecognizable after her fall, she imagines that's how her parents looked after crashing: deformed and bent up in all kinds of different ways. She couldn't even get one last look at the two at the funeral, her dad apparently was going so fast that when they crashed it was so bad it changed the way they appeared, her uncle told her they were both found unbuckled at the crash scene.

Barbara touches the coolness of the window and wonders if her features will look just as distorted as her parents?

The beta already feels slightly off-kilter, it's been this way since her father and mother's passing. She can't think right, can't sleep right, can't interact with people normally like she used to because she feels so angry; she sometimes feels like she can't eat right, one second her appetite is here and the next it's gone, she can't smile like she used to before-and she can cry, but that doesn't even feel normal anymore despite how much she's been doing it.

Blue eyes look up at the sky, where Barbara can only hope her parents are, thinking that if this sight is what they see everyday...then she wants to join them up above too. 

Pushing away from the window, Barbara makes her decision to jump, her stomach fluttering at the decision as she looks for roof access–she knows that there has to be a stairwell up here that leads to it somewhere or some form of a utility room with a roof panel. It takes only a few minutes of walking down the hallway until the girl finds a stairwell that leads to the roof, her heart racing in excitement as she turns the handle only to be denied access...of course there's a key for the stupid thing, probably for maintenance or the people that actually work here to have access to–"Damn it!" Barbara punches the metal door and goes back to the window she was looking out of, her eyes burning from the tears pricking at them, she never gets what she wants.

All she asked for was her parents to stay with her forever and that was denied, she wanted the truth and all she got was a lie, she wants to be happy and all she ever gets is sadness; and now that she wants to die-what-life wants her to live?

Anger courses through the beta as she starts pounding on the glass, ignoring the pain in her fists as they bounce off the reinforced material, "Come on! C-Come on!" Her punches get more frantic and sloppy as the window denies her access, a loud cry escaping her as her knees give out and she crumbles to the floor in a shivering heap of despair, sniffling and squeaking pitifully in a way she would if her parents were still alive.

Barbara keeps squeaking and calling out for people who no longer exist, so imagine her surprise at the warmth that encompasses her as she cries, the slight scent of vanilla surprising her...that's not what either of her parents smelled like.

"M-Mom?" The teen looks up and feels her heart stop for just a moment when looking into white lenses, "Y-You're..."

Batman instinctively tucks the pup closer into him when seeing her puffy eyes and snotty nose, lifting up his cape to gently wipe up the sticky substance, "Batman. Jim told me you were missing, are you hurt anywhere?"

Barbara's scent sours slightly at hearing her uncle's name, "I'm–fine. Go tell him that I'm okay."

The young teen does her best not to squirm uncomfortably at the look Batman gives her, a soft sigh escaping the man as he wraps his cape around the girl's shoulders. "Are you sure? I think I saw someone who is in a lot of pain trying to escape it in anyway that she knew how."

Barbara flinches at the fact that Batman caught her trying to...to...you know? Her eyes watering again at the reminder of her failure, "I-I...couldn't-" she whispers pitifully and sniffles-"H-How did you find me?" She looks up at the man curiously, gasping in shock as there's a tap on the window at the exact same time the older says, "Because I'm Batman."

Superman smiles kindly and waves, his smile growing at Batman's displeased grumble, "I thought I told you to head home already? I have things under control here." The Kryptonian just replies with a shake to his head before disappearing for only a second before he's suddenly standing next to the vigilante. "I had to stay! I wasn't sure if she was going to manage breaking the window, and Robin has got it covered below, he's-" Batman suddenly turns to growl at the super, his eyes narrowing behind the mask, "You left him by himself?!"

Superman raises his hands into the air and steps away just the tiniest bit, "I-he's perfectly fine! I wouldn't have left him alone if I wasn't sure he'd be okay. And he insisted that I be with you instead."

Barbara makes a surprised noise at Batman's hands tightening slightly on her shoulders when Superman smiles at him, her eyes watching as the man's jaw clenches and unclenches–is he mad? She opens up her mouth to apologize for being such a burden, but she finds herself pausing at the slight, momentary, uptick of the man's heartbeat before it settles back to a normal pace. "Stop smiling, it's disgusting as well as unnecessary. And there's a lot of things you don't know about Gotham if you think leaving a pup alone in the open here is the right thing to do." Barbara sniffles and glances up at Superman to gauge his reaction, trying not to laugh at the kicked puppy look he has on his face, his dark eyes widening at the reprimand.

"But-"

Batman snuggles Barbara closer to him and growls once more at the Kryptonian, "You left my pup out in the open. Superman, I swear if you don't get your ass back to him-" he pauses at the taller disappearing suddenly, a displeased rumble escaping his throat-"I hate it when he does that."

Barbara looks up at the Bat curiously, it didn't seem like he hated anything Superman was doing...if anything, to her it looked like Batman was touched-maybe even flustered-by everything the alien was doing for him, except leaving Robin alone that is. Now that she's had time to relax and breathe, Barbara feels-I don't know-silly? Shameful? For trying to jump out a window. Especially being caught by two of the most well-known heroes when trying to break reinforced glass, she can't imagine how pathetic she must have loo-

The beta stiffens up in surprise when she's pulled closer into Batman's side. A part of her wants to struggles against it, kicking and crying and screaming about how she doesn't deserve comfort for being so troublesome to everyone...but then again, that cold and lonely side is begging her to just let it happen, that she's been through a lot emotionally and mentally, that maybe receiving some comfort isn't as bad as that other self-destructive side makes it seem.

"W-What are you doing?"

Batman looks down at the stunned pup, holding back a satisfied purr at the child quickly loosening up in his hold. "Hugging you...do you...not know what that is?"

Barbara shakes her head quickly when hearing the concern in the alpha's (that's what the news says anyway) tone, "Of course I know what hugs are-" she sighs at the warmth radiating from the taller, how can someone wearing protective armor be so comfortable?-"But...why are you hugging me? Don't you have people to go save?" Batman frowns at the words and hums thoughtfully while carefully tucking a stray hair behind the pup's ear, "Last time I checked you are a people too, pup. And I always have time for people." Barbara can feel her eyes watering yet again, but this time from the gentleness in Batman's voice, at the concern for a complete stranger—from the realization of everything if she's honest with herself—she feels greedy; selfish, when thinking about how quick she was to choose to leave her Uncle Jim behind in the same exact way her parents passed away. She shakes her head and whimpers sadly, crying harder at the concerned noise the vigilante makes when doing so, "I-I don't deserve any of t-this. I'm s-selfish a-and greedy and s-self-absorbed!"

Batman stays silent, giving Barbara the time to explain herself. 

"M-My parents died a c-couple years a-ago-" strong hands softly squeeze her shoulders in apology, and to let the pup know he's listening-"A car accident. A d-drunk driver crashing into my parents car is what the reports said...or that's what I thought at the time at least." Barbara inhales shakily and tries to press herself closer into Batman's chest, desperate to feel more of the warmth coming from him, "B-But they actually died by suicide. A-And I-" her voice cracks-"I just found out that truth today and it f-felt like too much after e-everything I've already been struggling with. A-And so I came here to just sit on the roof-that's what I told myself at least-but I started thinking that maybe I'm better off dead and that this would be a great place to die."

The young teen pulls away slightly so she can look up at Batman. "But I didn't think a-about my Uncle Jim...he has done everything for me ever since they died, a-and because I was too busy being angry at him, I was about to hurt him worse by dying just like my parents d-did."

Barbara bows her head and whispers, "I'm so sorry. I-I'm scared a-and I don't wanna die, p-please...help me?."

Batman whines slightly at the distress in the other's tone, hugging her tightly to his chest and rocking the now trembling pup as he shushes her gently, biting off his right glove so he can card his fingers through her hair. "You don't need to apologize for hurting, do you hear me? I'm sorry to hear about everything that happened...your Uncle Jim told me the truth about what he did and you'd be surprised at how sorry he is too-" he pulls away to gently tilt the pup's face up, purring comfortingly when seeing the puffy eyes and tear stained face-"I...my parents died too. Someone shot them in an alleyway right in front of my eyes."

Barbara's eyes widen, her mild scent escaping her in an attempts at comforting the other.

"I...I put my caretaker through a lot of hell the older I got because I felt strongly just as you did. And...it has taken me a long time to forgive myself for those things I said or did to him during my grieving process-but, he told me I was still young, and sometimes it can be harder for someone younger to sort through those feelings no matter how ugly they appear. Barbara, Jim doesn't hold your feelings against you, do you know that?" Batman softens at the girl's disbelieving look, his thumb gently wiping away a stray tear as he whispers, "But...maybe you hold your own feelings against you."

Barbara gasps softly and bites her lip while nodding slowly, rushing forward and hugging onto Batman with a loud cry, squeezing on tighter when the man cradles her head gently in his right hand while his left holds her back firmly.

The noise the vigilante lets out in response to her puppy crying is surprising, because it's not the sound of an alpha comforting a pup, but a very omegan one. "Y-Your a-" Batman pulls away and smiles down at the girl, bringing a finger to his lips, "Omega. Not even your Uncle Jim knows, so I'd appreciate it if you could help me keep this secret?" Barbara's hands tighten on the omega's cape, her heart racing at the kind smile the man gives her and how he's trusting her with such sensitive information. "O-Of course!"

"And Barbara-" the girl makes a confused noise as her head is gently turned towards the window, cringing at her appearance before she looks at the Bat through the reflection-"Sometimes one of the people or things you live hardest for is right in front you the whole time. Everything is going to work out just fine and I'll make sure you get the help you need, if you really want it?"

Barbara looks at herself through the window, taking in the bloodshot eyes and red nose...she looks-in her eyes-absolutely disgusting, a hot mess if you will. But...she also looks so incredibly alive and real, and at least for right now, that's exciting and something that causes her heart to beat faster and her stomach to flutter excitedly about.

Maybe...maybe her life is now truly beginning? Barbara sniffles and gives a small-but sincere-wobbly smile, "I want it. I want to live."

Batman nods and stands up with the girl tucked into his side, his eyes drifting down  as he realizes Barbara's hands are hurt, "I'm glad. Now let's go get you back to Jim and get your hands clean, he's worried about you."

————°————

It was like that moment breathed a newfound determination in Barbara that she never felt or knew she had before. She recalls quickly becoming just a tad bit obsessed with finding Batman again to thank him for everything he's done for her and Jim on that day, but she never had enough courage to follow him around again until the age of sixteen when she found life to be a bit more brighter.

Anyway, now she's twenty something and a crime fighter. It's kind of crazy how the man she ended up looking up to is the same one she's fighting alongside now, and even funnier is the fact that the boy she met in the restaurant is now her closest friend and brother.

And being a crime fighter for a couple years now has done wonders for her, she's even learned to read people better than before, though not as well as one of Bruce's newest daughters; Cassandra. That girl is actually kind of scary with how well she seems to know everything before it happens, sometimes her and Richard still think Cass is a metahuman and just says she's not-but anyway. Barbara isn't the only girl now-which is a relief honestly-she has two new little sisters now (yes, two) because Bruce took in another feisty one named Stephanie, the blonde is definitely a spitfire, always ready to knock some heads together and prove her worth.

Both her and Cass are always quick to jump into action and prove their value...which necessarily isn't a bad thing, but Barbara knows what it's like to feel lost, so she knows exactly how people can behave when they feel confused or don't know their own worth and roles in life or a family.

Which brings the beta to how concerned she is about her sisters. The two have been thick as thieves ever since being introduced to each other: always cuddling up together, sharing each others things, whispering to one another (or in Cass's case; signing)-and did Barbara mention whispering to each other? The willingness to do the job is admirable, truly it is, but the beta often finds herself worrying at the ways the two girls go about it...they almost seem desperate to show they are deserving of having a place in the family, desperate enough to do almost anything to prove that fact.

Which is exactly why Barbara is so afraid for them.

They don't need to prove anything to the family-to Bruce mainly, especially since the older knows that's who they are going out of their way for. And she gets it, Barbara would be a liar if she said that she didn't, sometimes she still has moments of insufficiency and self doubt that rise within her and cause her to act out sometimes.

But...

If anything Bruce has showed her ever since taking her into the pack as one of his own, it's that there is absolutely nothing in this world that would stop him from loving her, from loving any of his pups really. And that's the second reason Barbara finds herself concerned over her sisters; the fact that neither Stephanie or Cass have realized that Bruce just loves them for who they are and not who they think they-or anyone else-thinks they should be.

Which is how Barbara finds herself following the two teens out of Gotham's borders and into Metropolis, her anxiousness mixing in with curiosity as to why the two are traveling all the way into Superman's territory, they aren't planning on taking the man down to prove their strength...are they?

"You should have notified mom immediately instead of doing this yourself." Barbara mutters to herself and quickly glances down at the touchscreen on her bike showing the trackers she hacked back into on the girls bikes, holding back a very audible groan as the two red dots finally stop near...an... abandoned Lex Corp research facility? Barbara taps on the screen to make sure it didn't glitch, why did Steph and Cass come all the way out here for this specific building? In all her research on this one facility, it's the...least dangerous of Lex's buildings (when it was operating that is), all his staff seemed to focus on is regular science research and lab testings, nothing out of the ordinary there. 

But who is she kidding? It's Lex-freaking-Luthor, there's most definitely something going on.

"You could have just asked to come along, y'know?" 

Barbara tenses for just a second before relaxing with a soft sigh, taking her helmet off to face an amused looking Stephanie, "I know...but it doesn't seem like either of us should be here in the first place-" her eyes drift over to where Cass stands, raising a brow at the two-"Speaking of, I'm guessing this is exactly what you two have been whispering to each other about the past few weeks now? Tell me girls, why are we here?"

Stephanie bristles at the woman's tone, her shoulders tensing as if prepared to fight, "You aren't planning on telling ma...are you?"

Before the older can reassure Stephanie that she could have already informed Bruce of what is transpiring right now (but didn't) is interrupted by Cass stepping forward with a hand on Stephanie's elbow to calm her, a soft sigh escaping the shorter girl. "She could have already told mama already, but she didn't Steph, I think she wants to know what's happening before thinking of saying anything-" she pauses her signing to move one hand in a 'gimme' gesture before continuing with a victorious smirk-"And I told you the plan would work! Barbara followed us just as planned. So I expect my money later."

Barbara keeps her eyes on the girl's hands, her face morphing to one of confusion and disbelief at the word 'plan' being used.

"Wait, wait, wait! You mean, this whole time, you both were being so obvious just so I would notice you both?" The beta looks back and forth between the teens and sighs softly at seeing the matching looks of humor they both wear, "What exactly is going on here and why are we at Lex's researching facility? That, might I remind you, is abandoned." Steph-at Cassandra's prodding-concedes to the poking of her side and explains what's happening, "We can all agree Lex Luthor is an extremely stupid man, right?" That's...not what Barbara expected, but she can work with that, "Uh—I guess so? It depends on the when, where and why I guess. Why's that matter?"

Stephanie crosses her arms, "It matters because of what you just said: 'it depends on the when, where and why.' We know he's super smart-"

Cass signs, "Except for when he's being super stupid."

"Yeah, except for when he's being stupid. But today is one of those days he's being really smart...so smart to the point where he's done something potentially reeeeeally stupid." Stephanie reaches into a bag she brought along and pulls out a red folder, "Do you know what this is-" she pauses at the troubled look on Barbara's face and nods-"Ooookay, seems like you know exactly what this is-what?"

The older rubs her eyes with her hands and groans, "You took one of mom's important folders? You know he doesn't like us touching his stuff, but especially his folders-"

Cass tries to hold back an amused smirk, "Especially Stephanie...last time she tried to color code them with style, remember?" The blonde huffs and rolls her eyes, pursing her lips in displeasure at the memory of being scruffed and scolded, "It's not my fault mom chooses boring colors to keep his papers in. I still think spray paint was a wonderful idea to color code them with." Barbara can't help but to smirk at the memory, "You're almost as bad as Richard...he keeps adding stickers and glitter to B's stuff-wait! It's not about those things right now you two. You know we aren't supposed to touch mom's things, but especially the color coded file folders-" she narrows her eyes disapprovingly at Stephanie whispering about how the colored folders was done because of her...which is true (because she wouldn't stop spray painting the cream colored material), but that isn't the point right now. "That isn't the point, Stephanie, you aren't supposed to have your hand on these-wait..."

Cass and Steph look at each other curiously before turning back to Barbara.

"How–did you even get your hands on this?! Bruce is always careful of his things and I'm pretty sure he has every document and copy of said document numbered and remembered."

The two puff up their chests and smile proudly, "We distracted mama and made copies of the file. Which isn't too hard to do considering how much he loves us, but it was hard getting everything back in place the way he had it." Cassandra signs and gestures to the red folder, "But the contents of said document are exactly why we needed you to follow us. We assumed you were the safest bet as there's some sister solidarity going on here between the three of us, we could have brought Timmy along...but he would have felt too guilty keeping a secret from mama and told on us, so, here you are."

Steph nods towards the folder, "You know that very urgent matter that ma and Superman have been slipping away for? Apparently it's because a little birdie in the villain community let it slip during a fight with Metropolises sunshine child that Lex Luthor has been working on a clone of the Kryptonian." Barbara's eyes widen, and despite her inner voice telling her to just call Bruce instead, she opens up the folder and looks over the papers, her eyes skimming them to see if anything hops out at her. "Wait, it says here that Lex has been working on this clone for at least more than at least ten years now..."

Steph nods, "Which means that he's had plenty of time at perfecting this. We know he's attempted cloning or even crossbreed projects before, but working with alien DNA is a completely different thing, so I wouldn't be surprised if it took him even longer than usual to figure things out."

Barbara rubs at her temple, realizing just exactly what her little sister meant at the beginning with her question about Lex Luthor, "He's being so incredibly smart right now. Wasn't this same exact building the one where he first used Kryptonite on Superman? One of B's files reports that Lex drew blood from him after taking a chance on his theory that Kryptonite was a weakness, a theory that paid off well as it turned out to be true, he lured Superman to this facility not just to test a theory out...but I think it was to get some of his DNA if he happened to be right."

Cass smiles at Barbara, "Seems we aren't the only one who reads the files, but yes, he lured him out here for those exact reasons. Luthor wouldn't have made such a bold move if he didn't think he would win or have a backup plan, pretty sure in my research one of the materials used in this building was lead, which Luthor knew Superman couldn't see through at that point. Pretty sure egghead had an escape plan if things went south."

Barbara's eyes widen at the implication, "You two think that he built escape routes throughout the building? It would make sense, it's not like Superman could see Luthor escaping or even if there are layers to the structure."

Stephanie nods in agreement, "It's also suspicious how not too long later they 'shut down' the building. We think it's been a cover this whole time and there's something going on underground that Superman doesn't know about. I mean, the man would still have been fairly new-I think-to this superhero business at the time, so after the fight and Luthor going so far as to demolish the building to the point of rubble he would have found no reason to be suspicious of anything...at least not enough to come back here and check on things. Plus, we know how forgetful Superman can get sometimes...he doesn't take into account certain things that we as humans would, so he probably paid no mind to the fact his DNA was left anywhere during the stabbing."

Barbara sighs, "He would have been too focused on the fact he was able to get stabbed in the first place."

Everyone remains silent for a few minutes to process everything before Cass steps forward with a hopeful look in her big brown eyes, "So can we count on you to help us? You-besides Timmy-are one of the most tech savvy out of everyone, we are pretty sure there must be cameras or some sort of electrical output somewhere for you to get a signal or something from. Please? Mama and Mr. Kent have been working hard to track this clone down, we could help a lot here and show him we can achieve more."

Barbara looks up, prepared to say no to offering them help...but the adorable brown and pretty pale green eyes that look desperately at her for help is-in all honesty-all too familiar to the beta, enough to give her pause.

"I...we should really call mom."

Stephanie and Cass look at each other before each taking a place at Barbara's side and hugging onto the woman, nuzzling into her neck as they stare imploringly up at her. "Pretty pleeeeease?"

Barbara feels her resolve crumbling under the pouty lips, soft pup-like squeaks and the big eyes the two girls give her, realizing that this is exactly how Bruce must feel whenever he looks at his children.

————°————

Usually days aren't this nice for Bruce (besides seeing his babies of course), usually there's always something or another to be concerned about, but surprisingly enough, the omega was able to...relax?...in some way today. If you call him trying not to die constantly from heart failure as relaxing, then yes, he's enjoying himself immensely.

Despite the cause for his impending heart failure being right in front of him.

Bruce feels his nose twitching not in the attempts of getting a whiff of Clark's scent nervously as he sits on Clark's slightly worn couch, why is he here in the man's apartment? Hell, why is he even here in Metropolis?

"Bruce, do you not find the snacks pleasing to your tastes?"

The omega snaps out of his increasingly disturbing thoughts of anger as to why he can't properly smell the alpha around his own den, blinking away the far away look in his eyes and paying attention to the alpha's now worried look, why does he look that way? He shouldn't. "The snacks? Oh, yes, thank you for the snacks Clark-" he takes a delicate bite of the pastry the other handed to him, surprised at how it's flavored in the exact way he desires his sweets to be-"this tastes delicious, really, where did you get these from? Maybe I can bring some back to my pups."

Clark feels his heart flutter at the words, knowing he's failing at hiding his pleased smile as Bruce squints at him as though he can physically see light radiating off him.

"I made them!" Oops! Too excited, "I mean...I made them myself. You don't seem like someone who would just eat any kind of food given to you, a-and I know how much you enjoy this pastry as I smelled it on your breath the last time I ran into you and I knew it must have been homemade as the last time you got this snack it was from a bakery and you didn't like it."

Clark feels like he was rushing his sentence, each word running into the other as his nervousness grew at him exposing himself. What if Bruce thinks he has horrible breath because of what he said?

Bruce stares at the alpha in bafflement, doing his best to avoid smelling his own breath to be sure it doesn't smell so strongly...when he wanted Clark to notice his smell, that isn't what he meant. "O-Oh? Does my breath usually smell so strongly? I apologize for...um...assaulting your senses like that, Clark. But, you were right, Alfred made these for me last time I ate them...I prefer a lot of homemade foods and snacks, I–guess I'm a little too picky in that way."

Is...that insecurity in Bruce's tone?

Clark feels his alpha grumbling in displeasure at the omega looking away for a split second, in Bruce speak, that means he's sorry–and he has no reason to be sorry.

'You smell amazing: your scent, your breath, your hair–your everything really. And I wouldn't mind scenting you everyday for the rest of our lives, because that's how good you smell.' Is what Clark wants to actually say...but he's an unmated alpha with an unmated omega—alone—in his apartment together, he can't say that to the other without seeming like a creep. "You don't smell strongly-" Clark swallows nervously as Bruce makes eye contact with him-"You smell really...sweet and soft in the best of ways, so no worries. I should apologize for startling you in that way...I just—it's easy to use my senses for certain things and...I just like making others happy, so I smelled the ingredients of what you ate last time and remembered so I could make something you'd enjoy."

The alpha gives a sweet smile to Bruce, "And you shouldn't worry for being 'too picky'. It's not your fault that you have standards for yourself, even if it's just with food. I, for one, don't think you could ever be too choosey."

'I would feed you whatever you wish for the rest of our days', is something Clark has to beat down with a metaphorical stick as he almost says it. However, the pink tinge to Bruce's cheeks cause the man's nostrils to flair with barely concealed excitement as the omega's scent slips through the patches on his neck the tiniest bit–and what a scent it is–it smells like a warm and slightly spicy dessert...aaaaand it immediately worries Clark because of how much it makes him want to bite the other.

"Thank you, Clark-" Bruce's hand unconsciously raises to play with the back of his hair as he takes another bite of Clark's handmade pastry just for him, his eyelashes fluttering as he holds eye contact with the alpha while biting down, unaware to the affect he's having on the other-"It...amazes me how considerate you can be towards others. It's kind of disgusting-"

'That's why I love you so much,' is not something Bruce can really say to Clark, especially not when the other could have someone so much...better.

The slightly defeated noise coming from across him causes Bruce to refocus on Clark, the omega panicking internally at the-in all honesty-crushed look the other wears, why does he look so-"You think I'm disgusting?"  The alpha and omega blink at each other awkwardly for a few tense minutes, Bruce processing what the other means and almost choking on his dessert as he rushes to explain, "No-" curse his inherent reactions of mild to severe disgust in the face of people being genuinely kind-"It's not you, Clark, it's me...really. I'm...I'm from Gotham."

Bruce trails off awkwardly, trying not to scream at the flimsy excuse, his inner omega practically howling at how any future attempts of romance is off the table. The cards are no longer where they lie because Bruce-in his infinite lack of proper emotional skills (at least towards adult humans-I mean, aliens)-flipped the table when peeking at the hand he was dealt, abruptly ending the game. Thankfully, Clark just laughs, the sound causing Bruce's ears to tingle and his belly to grow warm and the omega's lips to unwillingly turn up into a genuine smile. "Well...I don't think that I can argue with you there exactly, guess it's an instinctive reaction to kindness? Um...though I think you are very kind yourself despite everything."

Bruce feels like his heart is actively in the process of failing, pretty sure he's dying right now with the way he has to hold back the severe pounding of it, his body can't decide whether to continue pumping blood to his heart or his face.

Still, he feels like he should try explaining what he actually meant. "I meant disgusting in a good way, j-just-" dang it! Stop the stuttering-"so you know? It's like cute aggression but when I see anyone who's just...genuine, I want to call them disgusting because I have no other words for them." That was singlehandedly one of the dumbest answers Bruce feels he ever gave to someone, maybe he got it all wrong before? He's actually trying to kill himself with the embarrassing crap spouting from his own mouth.

Clark sits up a little straighter in his seat, "Oh? You...think I'm cute?"

Bruce scrunches his nose up, "No, children and babies are cute. Animals are cute. Even old people are cute-" his omega practically claws at his mind at the alpha's shoulders slumping slightly-"U-Uh, not saying that your face isn't-"

He feels his face growing even warmer at the intense look the alpha gives him suddenly.

"I mean it's not-not cute–I mean, you aren't cute! No, what I'm saying is that you look hot, sexy, drop dead gorgeous, like a god in the flesh, sex on legs han-" Bruce bites his tongue when Clark leans forward a little as if a spell has been cast on him to listen to whatever it is that the omega says, his eyes sparkling with something Bruce is too distracted to put a name to, "I-I think you look appropriate." He feels like screaming at the way Clark just stares at him...he doesn't know if he wants to burrow himself away in his nest forever or dive-bomb out of the window? But, his inner omega is practically preening at the attention the alpha is giving him.

Clark holds Bruce's gaze, his alpha sticking its metaphorical chest out at how pink the other looks...like a perfectly ripe strawberry, good enough to sink his teeth into.

Just one taste.

One taste wouldn't hurt, right? Sink his teeth gently into Bruce's cheek just to feel the flesh give under the pressure?

Yeah, just one. Little. Ta-

"Clark?" Bruce's soft voice pulls the alpha out of his trance, the Kryptonian cursing himself internally for almost letting his fangs grow longer...pretty sure they almost were dripping with the amount of saliva built up in his mouth.

The alpha blinks away his intrusive thoughts, embarrassed to realize he was starting to crawl on his very unstable coffee table (that Bruce has been trying to convince him to get rid of for awhile now), clearing his throat and acting like he's dusting something off of the surface. "T-There was something right there on the table that you definitely couldn't see because I have super vision and you don't."

Bruce furrows his brow at the statement, he hates being reminded that he doesn't have powers, "I know that you do. No need to rub it in, Clark."

The alpha winces at his poor choice of words, he was just rushing to get something out of his mouth to explain his creepy behavior. "That's not what I meant to say, B, you know I didn't." He watches as the omega moodily bites at the rest of his pastry, his voice softly rumbling in satisfaction when the other grows disappointed when his next bite is full of air and he notices the pastry is gone, "Would you like ano-"

"Yes. Now."

Clark wants to feel irritated at the interruption...they've been over Bruce's demanding attitude before, but the need to provide for his the omega overrides the need to tell the shorter to say 'please'. "Okay, okay. How many?"

Bruce hands the alpha his plate, "All of them?"

The taller laughs at the question in the other's tone, "You don't sound so sure about that. Plus, I thought you wanted to take some home to the pups?" Bruce relaxes back into his seat, purring softly in happiness at how the other remembered, "I was just testing you to see if you remembered me saying that. I do want to take some home to them, unless you were planning to eat the rest?"

Bruce can't see Clark's reaction to his purr as he's facing away from the kitchen, but the alpha is losing it, softly banging his head against his fridge at the happy little noise.

"No. I wasn't planning on eating any of this, it was all for you anyway."

All for him? That sounds satisfactory to Bruce's ears, he sighs softly and looks up at the ceiling to try and remember why he came down here in the first place, his memory is never this bad...but Clark has the special ability to make him feel stupid and clueless to everything.

'Beep' 'Beep'

Scratch that. One of his kids is calling him, he can't remain stupid or clueless.

Bruce tries not to jump to the worse case scenario as he clicks on the comm in his ear, "Batman–"

"Mom-ah!" Barbara gasps as she's thrown into a wall, "We aren't here to hurt you–Spoiler, get down! We need you to come–" her earpiece makes a static noise as a series of loud bangs are heard, the sound of Barbara screaming for Spoiler causing Bruce's heart to stop before she's heard grunting, maybe throwing something? "Barbara, sweetheart? What's going on?!" He stands up from Clark's couch, rushing over to the window in the attempts to climb out of it, key word: attempt, as a hand gently rests itself on the small of his back.

"Are you really about to jump out of a window? Let me fly you."

Bruce opens his mouth to argue, but the sound of Stephanie's strained voice in his ear makes him forgo it, "M-Ma...we need you and Superman down here–to the right, Barb! We kind of ran into a situation-ugh!"

By the time Bruce looks over at Clark, the man is dressed in Superman regalia, the omega tugging on the other's cape insistently as the alpha gets the idea and lifts the shorter into his arms. "We'll be right there! Clark, I have a suit hidden somewhere not too far from here-" at the Kryptonian's curious looks, Bruce sighs softly-"it was an abandoned building, Superman, it's perfect for a hiding spot." He clicks at his earpiece again, "Spoiler, what's the situation you're dealing with? Is it a code Arkm-23a?"

The two adults wait in a tense silence before Spoiler speaks up, her tone soft and guilt ridden, "Um...the situation isn't in Gotham, mama. Try: code 2813-Krypto-SP #56C." A quiet curse escapes Superman, which is how Bruce knows the situation is serious, and suddenly he's reminded as to why he came down to Clark's apartment in the first place, his voice a distressed growl as he finally responds to his daughter.

"You found Superman's clone?!"

————°————

Spoiler wipes at her bloody nose, her vision blurry as she tries to shake off the pain, the sound of her mom screaming in her ear doesn't help the concussion she's probably gotten from Clark's insane clone, "H-How many times do we have to tell you that we aren't here to hurt you, #56C? We just wanted to find you." The teen curses as she barely manages to stumble away from the other throwing a chunk of metal at her...it's a great thing Barbara turned off the security cameras and alarm systems, or else they'd have a lot more trouble with security trying to rush in.

The clone growls at her, "Where's Superman!?"

Spoiler tenses in caution at the experiment rushing towards her...to be honest, this plan isn't going as planned, they only expected to find a blob of something or an unfinished project, not a fully developed teenager with severe anger issues. They didn't even bring Kryptonite, which was actually a very dumb decision the blonde admits was probably her oversight, "He's coming! We promise, okay! Can you just calm down for one-" It seems as if everything is moving in slow motion as Spoiler watches Black Bat descend from the ceiling like a bat out of hell, her legs wrapping around the clones head as she uses the force of her body to drag the boy to the floor with her, the small hands moving in a series of strikes as she attempts to see if pressure points work. Stephanie realizes that the younger is testing for any weak points, someone has to do it she supposes? But the blonde alpha finds herself worrying as the clone easily grips her sister's wrists in his hands and easily extracts the girls hands off of his body, the boy grunting as he slams the Asian girl harshly back into the floor.

Black Bat winces as the taller rests his weight on her smaller body–he's surprisingly heavier than he looks–her hands twisting in a test of the grip he has on her while her lips pull down to a frown at not even budging. "How do you know Superman?!" 

The creaking of metal is heard before the roof caves in to reveal Superman and Batman, the alpha's nostrils flaring at the familiar scent in the air...it's definitely his alright, but there's also something not his about it, it's weird and causes the man to release his own scent in retaliation to the clones domineering one. "Because I'm a close friend. That's how they know me." The clone throws Black Bat into a wall, his eyes narrowing at Superman as he leaps up to the man, throwing a harsh jaw punch as the Kryptonian crashes through a couple walls and away from the rest of the group.

Batman frowns worriedly as he rushes to Black Bat's side, his hands quickly fluttering around the teen as he checks for any injuries, "What in the world were you girls even thinking?! Do you know how dangerous this was to come here alone?"

The teen frowns at how her mama is displeased, lifting her hands to quickly sign an explanation, "We just wanted to help you and Superman...we know how busy you've been and thought that we could do it together." The omega stands up with his daughter, attention shifting to Spoiler as the girl wobbles in place, a worried sound escaping him at the sight of his pup with a bloody nose, "You girls help me everyday, what do you mean? Spoiler, baby, can you hear me? See me properly? You can barely stand, puppy."

The blonde stumbles into her mom's arms, taking a deep breath in to avoid puking as the world spins, "F-Fine. S'my fault, ma...I forgot...the-the Kryptonite."

Batman frowns at the slight slur to the blondes words and her slow pace, his instincts flaring to check on her but also not to as this isn't a safe place to do so, especially not when he can hear a fight going on a couple rooms over. "This isn't any one person's fault, sweetie, where's Oracle at?" A tug on his cape causes Batman to turn towards Black Bat, following where the girl's pointing to and whining at seeing the woman holding her arm to her chest, lip busted as she types something into the computers.

Batman frowns worriedly at the sight of his eldest girl and leads his youngest two over to her, his hands reach out to the woman as he turns her around, "Are you okay?"

The younger takes a moment to realize who's touching her before she nods slowly, her gaze lowering to the floor in shame at what she allowed to happen. "I'm fine, mom...I'm so sorry, I k-knew I should have called you. I was stupid not to-" she's interrupted by Batman tugging her and her sisters in for a careful hug, his voice a soothing rumble as he comforts his pups, "But you did contact me. You and your sisters ended up doing the right thing, baby, but we need to get you three out of here...I'm pretty sure Spoiler has a concussion and it's not safe." He stops as the eldest girl doesn't let him lead them back up top, the beta shaking her head with a frown on her face.

"W-Wait! You need to see something. The only reason why the clone is so angry is because he's been brainwashed to hate Superman...apparently they would torture experiment #56C and then make him think it was Superman that hurt him so badly. Lex made sure that hate would be the only thing in his clones mind when thinking of the Kryptonian."

Batman pauses, growling protectively when a loud noise is heard behind them from Superman and his clone fighting, holding Spoiler and Black Bat to his side while he keeps his eyes on Oracle.

The ginger types in something to the computer, clicking on a file she knows that Batman has never seen before, her eyes trained on the omega's reaction as he quickly scans through the notes on #56C–"I know, right?" The beta whispers in disbelief as the omega gasps softly in shock, holding her little sisters tightly in her arms as Batman hands them off to her and runs through the hole in the wall and towards the fight.

Oracle turns to look at the digitally highlighted words that caught her mom's attention, unable to stop her soft chuckle as she cuddles into her sisters. "I think we'll be leaving here with a new brother, girls."

XXX

Batman grapples down a hole in the floor, his heart racing as he gets closer to Superman...and their son, his nose stinging at the strong scent of two angry alphas in a heated battle. "Superman!" The alpha immediately turns to look at the Bat, leaving an opening for the younger half-Kryptonian to place a mean roundhouse kick to the older man's face, the teens attention diverting to the man dressed in black.

"Who are you? Are you with Superman?"

Batman feels horrible for the way a part of him trembles excitedly at the teen asking that question, even when he knows the boy doesn't mean 'being with Superman' in a romantic context.

The omega clears his throat softly and stands tall, nose lifted high as he nods, "Yes, I'm Batman. We work toge-hk!" Hands suddenly squeeze at Batman's throat, the vigilante remaining calm as he looks at his pup, not one that's been adopted (though of course that doesn't make them any less his kids because of that fact), but it's...shocking to see something that is–technically–biologically his and Clark's.

.

..

...

....

Oh. My. Gosh!

Him and Superman have a kid together?!

Batman takes a close look at his pup's face closely despite the hands tightening on his neck, his gaze softening under his lenses when seeing the heterochromatic eyes; the left Clark's deep, midnight sky blue and the right his own icy blue color. The omega tries opening his mouth to speak, a wheeze escaping him instead of words, "W—hat's...yo–ur...n–name?"

The clone narrows his eyes at the man, "#56C."

Batman gasps for air, his hands finally reaching up to grab at the boy's wrists now that his airways are officially constricted, "N–o...h'w...a—bout..."

#56C hisses in pain as a large hand wraps around his wrist tight enough to cause him to drop Batman, grunting as he's thrown harshly into the wall and pinned to it by his neck, his breath hitching at the memories of Superman doing that same exact thing to him everyday before Luthor saves him. "Get your hands off of him." The boy's eyes flutter as he claws at the older man's arm to try and break free, trying to push down the fear at being faced with his biggest enemy, Luthor has warned him against feeling fear...it does him no good in battle.

Batman coughs loudly, hand on his quickly bruising throat as he pushes himself up and off the ground, feeling defensive at the sight of Superman manhandling their child.

"Superman, you're scaring him." His nose twitches at the sour scent of fear mingling in with the older alpha's anger. Batman grumbles in displeasure as the stubborn alpha doesn't listen to him, placing a hand on the other's arm and tugging at it, "Let him go–" he growls low; motherly, when Superman still doesn't listen–"Now, Superman!" The protective tone seems to register in the Kryptonian's mind as he suddenly releases the pup, stepping away as he snaps back to reality, though his brows are furrowed in irritation. "Why are you being so protective of him? He was hurting you, B." The omega continues to hold onto the alpha's arm until his hand actually leaves the boy's throat, "He doesn't know any better-" his tone is gentle-"He's been brainwashed into thinking you're the enemy as well as anyone attached to you. Superman, he's just a boy."

Superman opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of water, defensive as his mind register's Batman's protective tone as being in favor of another alpha (even when that alpha is partly himself). "I was just trying to protect you and the girls, is that so bad? How else am I supposed to respond to a clone Lex Luthor made of me–of me, Br-Batman! This is my worst nightmare come to life. I've never wanted to give into the anger and hurt the people I've sworn to protect...especially those I love and care for most."

Batman feels himself softening at the sight of Superman's apprehension, "I know you're scared...but, did you not promise to protect the innocent? The boy didn't ask to be created by Lex Luthor of all people, and as I said before, he was brainwashed into thinking you as the enemy; the cause to all his pain and suffering, not the savior from it. Who's more innocent than a victim of a very horrible circumstance?" Batman turns his attention to the frozen boy on the floor, frowning at how intimidated the child looks curled up into the wall...he must be having some sort of flashback with the way he's staring off into space. "Can you hear me, pup? "

Superman looks down at the pup curiously, unable to shake the bitter feeling growing in him at the gentleness Batman is giving the other. However, the omega's voice speaking to him interrupts those feelings as he gives the other all his attention, "Do you feel anything when looking at him, Superman?"

Batman looks up at the alpha from where he's crouching next to the clone, his eyes carefully watching the man's face morph into a look of befuddlement, his deep blue eyes looking down at the boy curiously, "I...don't know? Maybe. There's something there that I can smell isn't just my scent...it itches my brain and I don't know why. Maybe it's Luthor's scent?"

The omega grumbles to himself watching the moment what Superman just said sinks into his own brain, the man's eyes widening dangerously big as the panic sets in.

"Stop thinking for one second you idiot-" Batman growls at the stupid alpha not understanding who exactly the boy is to him-"You are the first parent and the second one...the second one is me, that's what you're smelling. I bet that's the cause to your brain itch." Superman freezes in place as his brain tries to process the new information...#56C isn't his and Lex's child, but his and Bruce's?

That's...definitely not what he was thinking-and Oh. My. Gosh!

Him and Bruce have a kid together!?

Superman shakes his head, guilt overtaking the shock as he realizes the person he was  pummeling wasn't just him, but that it's his and Bruce's child. His alpha howling in despair at how he's already failed as a father.

Batman extends his hands towards the alpha at seeing him pull away, "Wait, Super-" a burst of air brushes the exposed parts of the vigilantes face-"man..." He sighs dejectedly at the empty space where Superman once stood, not properly able to ponder on the feeling for too long as his son makes a distressed noise. "I was scared...I'm sorry that I was scared, I know it doesn't help me. I let him escape."

Batman chirps softly towards his son, hands slowly raising to pull off his mask, immediately releasing his sweet-spicy scent to the teen. "You don't need to apologize, pup, everyone gets scared."

The boy blinks the haze out of his eyes somewhat at the scent of the omega, a low rumble escaping him as he's suddenly overwhelmed with the feeling of comfort, instinctively leaning in close to the man as his nose settles against the warm neck. Why does Batman look so familiar to him? Why, why-"Mother..." #56C whispers as it clicks in his brain who the man before him is, he remembers Lex showing him pictures of Bruce Wayne and telling him that the billionaire is his mom...though nothing else was said besides that, the bald alpha always just grumbled about how stupid Bruce is and how he most likely gets people to do his work for him.

Bruce chirps in response to the name, cuddling the boy close and gently massaging his nape to calm him down, ears twitching as he's called top level by his daughters. "We'll be right up!" He tilts his head up while shouting, holding tightly onto the boy as he helps him stand and grapples up the hole in the ceiling.

The boy tenses at seeing the three girls he fought earlier still in the building, stepping in front of his mom protectively as he growls warningly at them. "Why are you still here? Aren't you with Superman?" A gentle hand resting itself on #56C's shoulder causes his stance to relax slightly, Bruce's smooth voice purring reassuringly in his ear, "It's okay, pup, they know Superman but are with me. These are your new sisters–something we can talk about later–right now, I want to take ask you if there's a name I can call you?"

The teen lowers his defensive stance at the information, and the fact that the three girls all look at him warmly...why aren't they mad at him?

"No. I have no name."

Bruce frowns displeased at the fact Luthor didn't even name his kid, a thoughtful hum escaping him as he rests a hand on the boy's head. "How about...Conner? I think that name suits you, and there is always the choice for you to change it later if you don't like it."

#56C–Conner, shakes his head insistently, standing a little taller at finally receiving a proper title, "I want the name, mother. I–thanks."

The dark haired teen bristles at the giggles escaping his...sisters (he has to get used to saying that), the blonde one nodding softly with a smirk on her lips, her voice slurred slightly when speaking. "H–e's...cute. I think...I think h'll fit...in." Bruce frowns at the state the alpha is in and gently grabs her from Oracle, "We need to get you home. Oracle, did you-"

The woman nods her head, "Already called Leslie. She's on standby at the Cave." She doesn't bother mentioning that the rest of the family know that he's coming home with another kid. Bruce finds himself smiling proudly at all his kids before turning to look at Conner carefully, "Baby...would you come home with me? This place is no longer safe-" he doesn't think it ever was-"and I would like to check on everyone in a place I know won't be harmful."

Conner blinks in shock at the question...he didn't know mother wanted to take him with him...Lex never allowed trailing or following of any kind, just his obedience. 

The teen looks around the place he did grow up in thoughtfully, he has no feelings one way or another about it, it's more like a training ground than what he imagines a home (whatever that is) to be. Conner looks back at Bruce with a curious look in his eyes, "Okay. I want to know what home is supposed to be." The omega smiles happily at hearing the boy is willing to follow him, stamping down the fury towards Lex Luthor and the man's lack of proper child care, tugging his mask back on with one hand and adjusting his hold on Spoiler as he heads out the building, leaving Conner with his two sisters.

Black Bat nudges the boy with her elbow, keeping her posture loose and open despite the alpha tensing defensively at the playful gesture, a wide smile on her face and hands moving in a flurry as Conner gives her his attention. "Welcome to the family-" she opens her mouth to speak, her voice quiet with disuse-"B–roth...er." Conner suddenly feels shy at hearing the word come from his sister's mouth, nodding to the shorter while thinking that maybe his new home life won't be so bad, tilting his head curiously as the blonde sibling peeks over mother's shoulder with an impish smile to her lips. "Wait until you meet your new brothers. They're a blast."

Conner freezes at the thought of other boys sharing his mother's space, his brain only thinking of one way to respond to the older girl, "Brothers? No one said anything about brothers."

The protective tone must be obvious in his voice as the girls laugh at him, the boy not being able to focus on feeling offended by it as he's overtaken by a warm feeling at making his new family laugh.

(Notes from AO3—Some things I want to explain too right quick is, 1: Please excuse the crappy explanation as to where Conner was grown. 2: Please excuse the horribly written fight scenes 😭😭😭 and 3: Conner's experiment number is based off of the fact Krypton's sector number is 2813, while Krypto just is supposed to be referring to the fact/reminder Lex is dealing with a half-Kryptonian experiment; SP just means specimen and #56C is just the number of times Lex has tried his attempts at making a clone and C...I have nothing for that, I just thought it sounded nice 😂.

But we can say #56 is in section C of Lex's experiments, to which this Conner is the only working one.

Flimsy excuses I bet for my reasoning to everything, but please accept it (it's Christmas 😭😂). I truly hope the length of this chapter will satisfy all who have been waiting on me? You all's comments truly motivate me, and don't be afraid to tell me if you hate this chapter or it's length, I seriously won't be mad but I will appreciate all your comments 🙏🏼☺️.

Also, I hope you guys enjoyed the choice I made for the girls finding Conner? I thought about it and the thought actually wasn't forgotten so I went with it, especially as I thought it'd be nice for them to find him kind of as a little introductory to our beloved clone.

I really need to stop blabbing, but I hope everyone has enjoyed this chapter? Please remember to stay safe, happy, healthy and of course lovely as always. 💛💛💛💛—End of notes from AO3.

Part 1: The Interview, Part 2: The Gala, Part 3: The Search.

[msviolacea]

Oh my god, am I actually writing real fictional words? Is the world finally ending?

Anyway. A scene in my head, now out of my head and on the screen. Tamsin de Riva/Lucanis, after the near-kiss and (right) before Inner Demons. Spoilers inside.

~~~~

"Hey." Lucanis's voice is soft and more than a little tense - Tamsin isn't surprised, given the circumstances. But she doesn't expect the topic, not right now, not in the middle of everything. "About the other night ..."

"I already told you, don't worry about it." The knot in her chest tightens, but this is not something either of them should be chewing on here, in the middle of Dock Town, as they duck around Venatori and try not to attract attention.

Lucanis shakes his head. "You deserve ... an explanation. Whether or not I have a good one."

She wants to snap at him, not now! But maybe this is his way of not thinking about whatever news they're about to get. She supposes, to keep him from dissociating any more than he already does, she can revisit her own humiliation. In the middle of Dock Town.

This day is shaping up to be just fantastic.

So, she looks over at him and gives him a small smile. "Listen, I understand. It wasn't what you wanted. There really doesn't need to be any more explanation than that. I'm not offended." Embarrassed, yes. But that's her own problem.

Lucanis stops short. It takes Tamsin a moment to process it - she stops two steps ahead of him and looks back. He's looking at her with his head slightly tilted, as if she's suddenly a puzzle to be solved. "What?" she asks.

"You think ..." He shakes his head. "Tamsin."

She steps back to meet him again. "Hmmm?"

He touches her arm - just a brief brush of fingers, before he withdraws and curls the fingers into a fist at his side. But as with each of his touches, few as they've been, Tamsin can feel the spark on her skin, even beneath the sleeve of her leathers. "Trust me, the problem had nothing to do with a lack of desire."

Oh. "Well. Okay."

"If you know nothing else, please know that."

"Okay," she repeats. She can feel her heart pounding, and she knows her cheeks are stained red. So are his, for that matter. She remembers the whisper of his breath across her face, that one moment when ... almost. How much she wanted. Still wants - always wants, if she's being honest. And she felt so pitiful for it that night, after he walked away.

But. Now.

"I guess," she says slowly, "knowing that ... whatever the problem is, when and if you may want to try, I'm here."

"I know," he murmurs, low enough that she barely hears the words over the bustle of the city around them. "You always are. Somehow."

Tamsin shrugs, and feels a relieved smile cross her face. "Where else would I be? Come on, I do not want Viago to read me the riot act for making him wait. It's embarrassing enough in Treviso, where everyone around already knows he's full of shit."

"No one in Minrathous will pay him much mind either. It's not like he's a mage." Lucanis takes a deep breath. "Sure. Let's go see what he ... what Viago and Teia have for us."

She can feel the thread of rage and despair under his words, so she takes the chance and reaches out to clasp and squeeze his hand lightly, quickly, before walking on. The only way out is through, as usual.

[startanewdream]

Why would I think you're weak? Everyone gets nightmares."

For hinny, preferably Ginny is the one with the nightmare

Please and thank you

hope you enjoy this sort-of missing moment that could have been:

*******

Harry walked absently to the Room of Requirement. It was still early, but he enjoyed arranging the room ahead of the D.A. lesson; for today, their first real class about the Patronus Charm, he had the idea of filling the room with mirrors so people could look at themselves while they worked the spell. As he reached the usual entrance to the Room, however, he realized he wasn’t the only one who had started early.

The door was already there, even before he asked for it.

He entered carefully, just in case someone had inadvertently found out about Dumbledore’s Army. The room seemed empty — until he noticed a figure in the farthest corner. For a moment, his stomach dropped, remembering the last time he had been there alone with someone — he and Cho weren’t really speaking these days, avoiding each other’s gaze after the disastrous Valentine’s Day date —, but the sight of vivid red hair told him it was someone else.

Ginny hadn’t seen him. She was facing the warm fireplace that was always lit, mumbling to herself. Her eyes narrowed in a fierce expression as she moved her wand; nothing happened, and she sighed unhappily, stooping her feet and looking up to the ceiling—now enchanted, like the Great Hall, to reveal the day sky above. 

Harry caught himself staring at her; it wasn’t the first time he’d done so, not with him teaching the D.A. Ginny’s spellwork had always impressed him; he remembered George once telling him that size was no guarantee of power when talking about Ginny, and though Harry hadn’t witnessed her famous Bat Bogey Hex yet, he could see what George had meant. Ginny had a strong raw power; even though she was still in her Fourth Year, she’d had no problem mastering any OWL-level spell Harry had shown the class. He would often compare her with her boyfriend, her usual duelling partner, and more than once Harry had thought she deserved someone better—he hadn’t said it out loud, but Michael Corner had looked quite bland—

“Ow!”

Ginny’s voice startled Harry. For a crazy moment, he’d thought she’d read his mind and was mad at him—then he realised she looked sheepish. 

“Sorry, I thought I was alone.”

Harry shook his head. “You were, I just came in. Are you practising?”

Ginny flushed as she nodded; it suddenly occurred to Harry that it had been a while since he’d seen that. It was weird seeing her looking flustered when she had been nothing but bright around him.

“You know, I appreciate the effort, but I cannot give you house points.”

As he had a feeling she would, Ginny chuckled.

“Prat,” she called without any malice. “Sorry, I meant Professor Prat.”

Harry smiled. “Much better.” Then he tilted his head. “What were you doing? You didn’t have any problem with the Shield Spell last class.”

“Ah.” She bit her lip. Harry had a sudden urge to ask her to stop it before she drew blood. “The Patronus Charm.”

That made him blink, suddenly aware he had been looking at her mouth.

“Patronus?” He repeated, startled. “We are just getting started.”

“Yeah, but…” Ginny took a deep breath. “It annoyed me that I couldn’t cast it.”

“It was just our first lesson—I mean, not even a lesson, it was just a lecture.” 

It had been the final part of the last D.A. lesson, last week. Satisfied that everyone seemed to have mastered the Shield Spell, Harry had started the Patronus Charm, the one spell everyone was excited about. He hadn’t much time, so he’d decided to explain the theory behind the charm — the first time he’d talked more than show any spell, and rather than seem annoyed, everyone had eagerly listened to him. He had given everyone some sort of homework — to think about their happiest memory — and, in the last five minutes of the lesson, he’d let everyone try the Patronus Charm for the first time.

A few people had managed a silvery wisp, nothing resembling any shape or that lasted more than two seconds. 

“Every time I try, nothing happens.”

“I don’t think anyone can cast it in their first attempt,” Harry said. When Ginny raised her eyebrows, he added, “I didn’t.”

“How many lessons did it take you?”

“A lot,” he answered truthfully. 

Her expression didn’t change. “You were thirteen when you first learnt it.”

“And I had Professor Lupin giving me private lessons. All you got… is me.”

She rolled her eyes. “You are an amazing teacher.”

“I think you are comparing me to Umbridge, so—”

“Stop it.” She patted his arm playfully; her hand was warm. “You know you are a decent teacher, come on.”

“I noticed the downgrade from amazing to decent.”

A grin appeared in her lips as if she couldn’t help herself; Harry smiled in answer. He enjoyed her reaction.

“See, that’s better—you cannot try the Patronus Charm if you are all gloomy.”

“I wasn’t gloomy.”

“You were stomping your feet.”

“Maybe I had an itch.”

“Did you?”

“No,” Ginny admitted, and then she threw herself on one big bean couch that had just appeared behind her. “I’m really frustrated.”

Harry gave her a bracing smile as he sank on the couch next to her. “It was just your first try.”

“I got every other spell. Maybe it wasn’t perfect, but something happened.” She waved her wand absently, not seeming to notice the sparkling dust that she was casting. “Now I could yell Expecto Patronum until I lost my voice and this wand wouldn’t be more useful than a random stick.”

“I get it,” he said bracingly. “I was disappointed with myself when it didn’t improve the way I wanted—but there is no secret, you just need to keep trying.”

“It is as if I can’t get it right—every spell I try, even when I don’t cast it, I can feel it, the connection between me and my wand. But the Patronus just eludes me.”

“What memory are you using?” Harry asked before he could think it through. He smiled awkwardly. “Sorry, I know it’s personal.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s not working anyway, so—” Ginny shrugged. “I thought about when I got my Hogwarts letter. I dreamed of it since I was two—” She caught sight of Harry’s face. “What?”

“That’s what I remembered the first time I managed something. It was just this silver shadow, but—”

“But it was a start.” Ginny sighed. “I’m not even hoping for a full corporeal Patronus, just one that gets the dementors far away from me.”

She shivered, her face whitening so much that Harry felt he could count the freckles on her cheek. 

For a moment that distracted him, until a long-distant memory resurfaced. He was thirteen and recovering after meeting a dementor for the first time; he’d just fainted, but the worst part had been hearing a woman’s scream. He hadn’t been in the best condition, so he hadn’t really noticed the small girl quietly sobbing in the corner of the train, looking just as pale as now—he’d never asked what Ginny had heard, but now he got a good idea…

“You had forgotten.” He blinked. Ginny was grimacing. “You are not the only one who hears You-Know-Who when dementors are around.”

“That was not what… I never considered what you would remember.” He bit his lip. “Sorry.”

“What are you sorry for? You saved me. I was the one stupid enough to get involved with a Dark Lord.”

“You were not involved, I mean—you didn’t know who he was.” He met her gaze. “And I am sorry for forgetting what you went through. I guess it was just easier to think everything was all right.”

Harry remembered the final days of that term, when he had watched Ginny closer; after a moment’s struggle, she had looked happy, a bright version of the girl that had slowly shrinked that year. Even her brothers were visibly relieved that Ginny seemed to move on. At some point, Harry had just stopped looking for any distress sign.

Ginny sighed. “I know. That’s how I wanted you to perceive me. Not as the weak girl who couldn’t sleep at night because of her nightmares.”

“You are not weak. Why would I—why would anyone think so?”

“I still dream—”

“Everyone gets nightmares.” He thought about a graveyard, a cruel laugh, and a boy’s dead eyes. “It’s just a reminder that we survived. You survived.”

“Only because you—”

“Because you fought Riddle long enough to give me time to get there. You were eleven.”

“Saying like this makes me look stronger than I was.”

“You were strong. You are strong.” He took a deep breath. “I’m not saying this to excuse myself, but I forgot about you and Voldemort because I can’t see it when I look at you. You went through one of the worst things that any human could experience—I know how I felt just by thinking I was possessed—and yet you are here now, casting every spell, destroying those Death Eater dummies, and getting a reputation for that Bat Bogey Hex that I have yet to witness.”

He felt suddenly self-conscious of his speech, but Ginny was smiling softly now, and Harry just reminded himself that he was the teacher, he could be motivating even if it involved personal stuff. In any case, even her eyes were shining now, warmer; Ginny’s eyes were a nice shade of brown, like treacle tart.

“Let’s find Umbridge,” she suggested at last. “Then you can witness my Bat Bogey Hex, it will be epic.”

Harry chuckled. “I don’t doubt it, but I don’t think you’d want to be expelled.”

“I’d only be if I got caught,” she noted, winking at him. Then Ginny jumped, leaving a soft trace of flowers on the couch. “I’m going to get this.”

She closed her eyes, her expression confident. Harry couldn’t know what she was remembering, but a breeze filled the room, coming out of nowhere, and made Ginny’s hair move as if she was flying. Then Ginny opened her eyes —they were blazing—, flourished her wand and whispered, “Expecto Patronum!”

A silver shadow flew from her wand, dashing around the room before disappearing. It wasn’t shaped yet, but Harry could swear he saw a long snout and a floating mane.

“Yes!” She cried happily, beaming at Harry; for a moment, he thought she was going to hug him — he even opened his arms — but Ginny didn’t move. “It was something!”

“It was a perfect start,” he told her, jumping to his feet. Ginny looked bright now, and he didn’t think it was just an act. “What do you think it will be? Your patronus?”

“No idea. I think it had hooves.” She smirked. “It won’t be a stag, though, I’m hoping to be original here.”

Harry just smiled. “It’s my father. I mean, the stag represents my father. It’s a long story, I’ll tell you later.”

“Ok.” She nodded, watching him, her expression sober now. “I remembered the first time I took flight on a broomstick.”

“That’s also one of the memories I tried that first time learning the Patronus Charm,” he noted, amused. “I’m glad it worked better for you.”

“Flying made me feel free—and powerful. I think I’m done with Riddle’s voice in my mind.” Ginny paused for a moment, watching Harry, before taking a deep breath. “I was afraid that if I couldn’t cast the Patronus, it meant that, in some way, I wanted to hear him.”

“I get it,” Harry mumbled, not quite meeting her eyes now. “The reason why I got so bad around dementors was because I could hear my parents’ voices, when they were… in their last minutes. And it was the only memory I had, so for a while I hung on to them.” He risked a glance at her. Ginny didn’t look pitiful, so he felt safe enough to give her a small smile.

She shook her head.

“I think you are very generous to compare you missing your parents with my unhealthy relationship with the diary that almost killed me, Harry, but that’s just you.”

“Well, what made me cast the Patronus Charm was that I could not risk us losing another Quidditch match.”

“Priorities.”

“I can tell all the effort paid off in the end.”

“Isn’t it true that you managed to fight off a hundred dementors to save Sirius?”

“Yeah.” He grinned. “But I was thinking that Gryffindor won the Quidditch Cup that year after all.”

She grinned back. Ginny had dimples when she smiled; she could be as bright as a Patronus, Harry thought suddenly. She’d manage to cast one soon, he just knew.

He was about to tell her this when the door of the room opened. Ginny glanced at the door before taking a step back, her face only slightly flushed as she asked him, as if continuing a different conversation, “How can I help you?”

“Huh?” Harry said, confused. The group of Ravenclaws had just entered, and while they were greeting him, Cho had given him a smile, though somewhat avoiding his gaze.

“The Room,” said Ginny patiently. “You like to get the Room ready before the lesson, and I thought I could be useful—hi, Michael.”

She waved at her boyfriend, and for a moment, it crossed Harry’s mind that there was as much enthusiasm in her voice as in Cho’s smile to him. 

He shook his head. “Mirrors, it might be helpful.”

“I’m on, Professor Potter.”

“Not prat anymore? I see the improvement now.”

“Like I said, you are kind of decent, Harry.” She winked at him, clearly amused, and turned around; as mirrors appeared on the corners of the room, her boyfriend joined her, hands hanging on the inside of the pockets of his robes and just watching her.

I didn’t like him, Ron had said it once, and though Harry didn’t think he’d share this thought with anyone, he couldn't help but agree with Ron.