#GOD Wren looks good as a woman. She's stunning | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jbjonesxdomme · 6 months

Text

Strip and Worship | Para

Who: JB Jones and Wren Hummel @switchingwren When: October 13th Where: JB's suite Notes: During locktober, praise kink, body worship, massage, striptease

JB By the time she heard the knock on the door, JB had already showered and put on only a robe to cover her naked body. She opened the door and allowed Wren in and made their way quickly to JB's play room. She had borrowed everything she didn't already have and had set up lotions, oils, and anything else they might need. She sat on the padded bench and looked over the new girl. "Alright, darling. Let's start with a strip show," she said, using a remote to turn on some simply, sexy music for ambiance.

WREN Wren had loosed up a bit after her first experience with someone at Stonewall had come to pass. She had fun with Nate so she believed that the same would happen with JB. She knocked on her door promptly before 6pm dressed in a pair of light wash, loose fitting jeans and a red crop top, she knelt until the door was answered. Once it was, she followed the Domme into her playroom where she looked around at everything it had to offer. A bit of everything made her even more excited. A strip show she thought to herself, she didn’t have a lot of rhythm but she would definitely do her best. “Yes m’am,” She felt the beat for a moment, closing her eyes to help her feel her confidence and turn it into sexy. Feeling good, she began by unbuttoning her pants, swaying her hips to the rhythm as she pulled the denim down slowly revealing her locked belt. Before the pants came all the way down she left them just below her butt and turned it to face the other girl, rocking it back towards her and smiling over her shoulder while she did. After a little tease, the pants came all the way off and she kicked them to the side. “Am I doing okay, miss?” She looked to JB for reassurance.

JB JB's eyes watched Wren intently, they way her body moved as she slowly stripped out of her clothes. "Oh you're doing wonderfully, good girl," she promised, licking her lips as more and more of Wren's skin became exposed. Soon the girl was naked and JB gave her a gentle clap, "Beautiful, sweet girl." She peeled off her own robe and laid down on the bench. "Alright, sweetheart, start with the oil. It heats up when you blow on it," she said with a wink as Wren came closer.

WREN Wren began to feel more confident as JB praised her. Now that her lower half was bare, she teased at the hem of her shirt a few times before she pulled it up over her head revealing a black satin bra. She ran her hands over her breasts to the back of her straps and removed that item as well leaving her completely nude with a smile. “Thank you, Miss,” she replied with a nod. Moving closer as JB removed her robe she was excited to see the other woman’s body for the first time. She was stunning and Wren couldn’t wait to get her hands on her. Grabbing the oil she placed a good amount in the palm of her hand and blew on it to warm it up before rubbing it between her hands. “Where shall I start?”

JB JB hummed over the options, "I think we start along the arms and shoulders and you can work your way down," she offered.

WREN “Sounds excellent miss,” she says with a soft voice. Rubbing the oil between her palms and warming it up again with her breath, she placed her hands on JB’s shoulders placing her oil along the skin massaging it in alternating between strong and light touches. She then moved along her arms and down to her wrists, slowly enjoying every inch of the woman’s skin.(edited)

JB "That's a good girl," she hummed, quickly feeling Wren's oiled hands work against her shoulders, low moans purring from her lips. "Oh that's a good girl," she continued, focusing on every inch of her body Wren put pressure on.

WREN Enjoying the praise, she continued working down onto the woman’s chest. “God you’re just —“ she could barely get the words out she was so entranced by the woman’s features. Her soft skin warming under each touch. “You’re stunning.” Wren finished her sentence finally as she massaged the woman’s breasts with her hands.

JB "Oh?" she hummed, closing her eyes a minute and enjoying Wren's wonderful fingers into her skin. Her body was feeling fierce and fiery as the oil heated against her skin under Wren's touch. "You may use your mouth if you'd like, sweet girl," she hummed, opening her hazy eyes to watch Wren above her.

WREN "Please?" She whined wanting to put her mouth on the woman's skin, craving to be closer to her. She pressed her lips to JB's collar bone, then to her breasts, following to her stomach and hips taking in every inch of her as possible. Though her lips were kissing the other's hips her hands were massaging the woman's thighs and enjoying the time she had to purly worship her body.

JB "Yes, such a good girl confirming so nice," she hummed, humming softly as she felt Wren's lips toy against her skin. She gasped excited as Wren reached her breasts, one of her favorite spots to be toyed with. Her body arched off the bench as Wren played with her breasts, and massaged closer to her core. "That's a good girl," she moaned, licking her lips as she breathed heavily in excitement. "Keep going. I want to feel your fingers inside me."

WREN “Yes, Miss,” she confirmed through kisses to her soft skin, licking up the insides of her thighs. She could feel herself aching to have her lock off, her pussy dripping from the pure intensity of everything JB was. Massaging her breasts a bit more and taking her nipples into her mouth she swirled each around for a moment before she allowed her fingers to trace along the other’s pussy and clit. Teasing it lightly with her fingers she could tell her Domme was willing her for more; once she knew JB was wet she slid her two fingers into her curling slightly upward. “Oh my god,” Wren moaned out, “I’ve missed this feeling.”

JB JBs body was completely on fire as Wren delicately, but directly played with her body. Her fingers and tongue were doing completely different things but ending in the same result. “Oh yes,” such a good girl,” she moaned as she felt wrens fingers inside her. “Harder, sweetheart, move those fingers harder and faster.”

WREN She began pumping her fingers into her deeper and more quickly, the speed picking up as she got more excited at what she was doing. “You’re incredible Miss,” she managed to get out.

JB “Oh fuck yes,” she moaned loudly as wren followed her instructions so beautifully. JB moaned and moved wildly, feeling her toes start to curl and the explosion ready to erupt. “Oh keep going keep going,” she encouraged loudly, her body finally convulsing as she cried loudly, screams echoing off the walls as she came, her body shaking in pure delight. “Oh fuck!” She moaned and panted heavily, smiling up at her. “Good girl. Now you’re going to use your tongue where your fingers are.”

WREN Wren loved how she could tell that she was providing such pleasure to JB. Continuing her movements right as she found the perfect spot for the other girl she hummed happily taking in the sight of her ecstasy. “Yes m’am.” Placing her head between the woman’s luscious legs and running her tongue along her folds until she was inside of her.

JB "Oh that's a good girl," she said, voice shaking with excitement as Wren's mouth started working over her sensitive clit and core. "Oh very good, such an obedient, sweet girl," she moaned, the tail end of her last orgasm still going on as her body shook and she could feel the heat already begin to rise again.

WREN She tried so hard to not focus on herself in these moments, though of course she was dripping and wanting the touch of another — this was about JB. She was pleasing her and that was everything right now. “I’m your good girl, miss.” She replied momentarily before her tongue was back on the woman.

NATE "Mmm, yes my good girl," she moaned as she felt Wren's mouth returned to her core, sucking against her wet, sensitive clit. "Oh just like that, such a good girl for me," she moaned louder, the heat starting to burn her from the inside out and climbing her to her next orgasm. "Oh fuck! Just like that," she cried before spilling over again, her toes curling and body shaking heavily as she came again, squirting against her face and down her chin.

WREN With that confirmation she got excited. She swirled her tongue around her sensitive area, smirking with happiness knowing she was doing everything well. JB came through her climax again and this time it left Wren’s face covered. Pulling herself away she looked up at her Domme smiling at her showing her face drenched with her. “Thank you,” she replied, her tongue licking up what she could.

JB JB was breathing heavily for what felt like ages as Wren pulled herself off JB and looking lustfully over her. "Such a good girl," she said sitting up further and pressing a kiss to Wren's forehead. "I am very, very satisfied. Too bad I can't return the favor," she teased, rubbing over the belt against her. "Poor thing," she teased with a smile. "But you did so good for me, beautiful girl. So, what can I do for you? A little aftercare maybe?"

WREN “Thank you for this opportunity, Miss,” she said before she practically whined as she was touched over the belt that deprived her of touch. “Maybe when I get this thing off?” She asked sweetly already aching for someone to be inside of her. “I would love some water and maybe just some kisses if you don’t mind? I’m so touch deprived I just need some.”

JB JB smiled at her softly with a nod, "Sure thing. Come with me," she said, guiding Wren to her bedroom and pulled down the blankets for the girl to climb in. "You get in here, I'll be right back with that water," she said before heading off to the kitchen. She returned quickly, handing Wren a bottle and sliding into bed with her, letting Wren cuddle up next to her. "There we go," she hummed, patting gently at Wren's hair. "That's a good girl."

WREN Wren followed her to the bedroom, getting under the blankets in the bed as instructed. Taking the bottle of water from her before cuddling herself into the other’s arms. She took a few sips of the water and let herself relax with some deep breaths. “I was good, right?” She questioned.

JB JB nodded, pressing a kiss to the side of her forehead. "Oh you were very good, sweetheart. I enjoyed myself very much. Did you?"

WREN She sighed sweetly into the kiss that was placed on her, “I can definitely say the same, I’m lucky I got to serve you, Miss” Wren confirmed looking into the other’s eyes, her hand resting on JB’s chest.

#para #p wren #wren #smut #strip and worship

1 note · View note

angstymarshmallow · 5 years

Text

part seven - “give me a sign.” (cal lowell x mc)

[a little note: I’ve been wracking my brain on this for two weeks now and I think...I think this is where I want it to be. It’s a bit different than what I imagined originally for a crossover and is loosely based off that particular bloodbound chapter. I mean like why are action sequences so hard and there will be a secondary piece of more crossover time in the next part! Can you believe this is still going on? And we’re not even at the end yet. If you read it - than you! If you leave a comment, bless you!.]

[words counted: 7600]

[summary: While MC (Wren) heads to New York in hopes of finding Cal, Cal tries to come to terms with what he wants vs. what he can’t have. Trapped in Kavinsky’s makeshift prison, he can only count on himself. Little does he know, Wren and the most unlikely allies are here to break him out of this hellhole].

[part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, part six]

The trip to New York was short, but it’s been one anxious moment after another during the several hours she’s been locked in her seat – peering at the clouds from her window as late afternoon gradually became night. For someone like Wren whose spent most of her life being unperturbed by nearly everything, it says a lot. There isn’t a great deal of things capable of making her anxious.

Still, her anxiety is half the problem and the other half is completely fixated on Cal. He’s all alone out there.

She tries to picture his boyish smile, the light flush in his cheeks when she teases him or the warmth in his laughter – but the images quickly fizzle out at the thought of anyone hurting him. I swear to god if that asshole harms one fucking hair on his head –

She would do anything to have him safely in her arms again.

Wren inhales deeply, sagging against her seat as the plane comes to an almost complete stop. It won’t be long now. She’s supposed to be meeting with Nik’s contacts as soon as she’s out of here.

Keep it together. Just keep it together.

She tries to push him out of her thoughts, but he funnels through. She can’t stop thinking about him, and her mind will end up thinking the worst at the rate things are going. Checking the time on her watch, she sighs and relents to resting her head against her seat. She peers at the plane’s ceiling.

Focus on something else.

She wracks her brain, absently tapping the screen of her phone.

Adrian Raines. Kamilah Sayeed. Jax Matsuo. Lily Spencer. Harlow Daniels.

She mulls over their names as the pilot exchanges his farewell across the intercom.

Only half of them vaguely rings a bell, but the latter are a mystery as far as she’s concerned. Who were they beyond what the media reports?

They’re supposed to meet, and yet she has no idea what meeting with them will entail. Vampires of all the things. In the flesh. Fangs and all. There’s a quiet kind of exhilaration at the knowledge that they’re real, that she’s really meeting a bunch of bloodsuckers. Hell, even a year later – the supernatural world still continues to catch her off guard.

It’s only a shame that they haven’t exactly been forthright about anything else. None of the people she’s meeting tonight have expunged any information as to what they need from Kavinsky, but she’s assumed as much that they must have bene looking for something specific. He was after all – a glorified artist that collected the highest quality of merchandises.

But people aren’t merchandise.

Scowling, Wren wrenches her seatbelt free. The thought infuriates her.

She steps in front of an elderly woman without thinking and flinches before making enough for her to pass. Muttering a stiff apology, she follows the rest of the crowd out of the airplane shaft.

A swift vibration emanating from her pocket has her glancing down in time to catch a glimpse of Danny’s name floating across the top screen of her phone. She quickly swipes it free, thinking the worst until she’s able to read his entire message.

There were some wolves poking around earlier. They smelled weird but Pete sent them packing before we realized they’re apart of Shaw’s pack. He’s kinda in bad shape but Nick, Theo and Sabine are fine. Just wanted to check in that you got to NY okay.

A pause before another message pops up.

Not that I care or anything.

Wren hides a smile behind her smirk. The little shit does care about her.

She’d be lying if she said the idea doesn’t lift her spirits – even a little at the thought, but she knows better than to make a big deal out of it. At least not right now. She can always tease them later when their lives aren’t in danger anymore.

Ah hell, who’s she kidding? Their lives will always be in some level of danger.

Tapping her fingers lightly against the screen, Wren tries to think of a response.

Heard you loud and clear kid. I got here fine and I’m about to meet with Nik’s associates.

She waits a beat before adding.

Then we’ll find Cal and we’ll be back before you even know it.

He doesn’t say thank you in so many words but she can tell he’s grateful for her reassurance. Before Wren is able to pocket her phone safely into her jacket, another text dings and flits across her screen.

Good. Stay safe.

You too kid.

Taking a deep breath in hopes of settling her nerves, Wren manages a sharp nod at the security that ushers her through. If she has anything to say about it – they’ll be back home in no time.

The place they’ve agreed to meet her seems a little far off the normal radar. Well, normal radar being – not dark, dingy and creepy. Although, she’s been to her fair share of sketchy places, she’d feel much better if they were meeting in Time’s Square instead of backstreets leading into abandoned alleyways.

At least she has a switchblade with her.

Still, the side streets and corners with flickering lights all but scream serial killer.

This is where psychos kidnap or knock out the few people dumb enough to travel out on their own. But Wren isn’t just some random idiot taking a shortcut home – she’s here for a reason. And she’s hellbent on finding Cal, no matter how long it takes. No matter what it costs.

Besides, Nik’s one of the few people she trusts and a favor is a favor after all.

However, Wren still finds her anxiety getting the best of her. Her thoughts are ridiculously stuck on things out of her control as she toys with the brunt edges of her blade between her fingers. After a few minutes, she checks the time on her phone.

They’re late.

It isn’t until the sound of light footsteps coming from the long-winding alleyway does some of her anxiety finally began to chip away. She glances up and notices shadows casting sinewy figures across the cobblestone pavement in time. They belong to five people. The closer they grow, the more she’s able to discern their appearance and what she sees – has her whistling in soft appreciation under her breath.

They’re seriously good-looking – not that she thinks she’s ever seen an unattractive vampire before, but her eyes can’t help but be drawn to each of them, as if against her own will. It’s almost close to indescribable when it comes to how enthralling they appear at this distance.

The first is a well-dressed gentleman with an almost bronze look to his skin as his intense-looking obsidian eyes meet her stare. He’s taller than the rest of his cohorts. She feels trapped by his gaze somehow and she sucks in a breath when her lungs fight for one. Seconds pass before his gaze travels south – to the rest of her. When he finally breaks eye contact, she manages to scope out the rest of him with something akin to a relieved sigh.

He’s in a grey suit that’s way too fancy for this part of New York. His dark and thick hair has been sleeked back as a stiff grin settles and draws her attention to the sharpness of his cheekbones.

The woman a few paces beside him wears her own expensive-looking suit as well. Although hers’ is several shades of dark purple – not quite the colour of licorice but not quite anything else either, she possesses such an air of authority that Wren fights with the sudden urge to sink her gaze to the floor. The woman drags a tanned and flawlessly manicured hand through her long and almost oakwood-coloured hair. Something in her penetrating stare causes gooseflesh to break-out across Wren’s skin.

The third person stands a little off to the side and heaves a mean-looking crossbow across her back. Unlike the other two, she doesn’t radiate an ounce of unfriendliness. She seems to be the exact opposite down from the laid-back way she’s dressed. Her dark eyes and skin are a stunning comparison to her lavender-style braids. She sticks out from the people in suits – but in the best way possible. She tosses a few of her braids across her shoulder before waving at her.

The remaining two stand a little closer together from the rest. Wren can’t help but think there’s something more between them than just simple business partners as she diverts to their attention. In fact, the taller of the two seems to almost glare suspiciously at her as he places a protective arm around the secondary person.

He’s the one that deserves Wren’s own glare in response. He’s wearing a dark crimson jacket that isn’t even his colour and tight-fitting jeans that seem a little outdated compared to the rest of his companions. But it’s his protective arm loosely tucked to the woman’s side that’s convinced her there’s definitely something more. Her eyes follow the length of his shoulders and she nearly does a double-take.

Is that…is that a katana?

His jet-black hair nearly obscures his dark eyes, but Wren is still preoccupied at staring in awe at the sword that’s strapped across his back. What I wouldn’t give for one of those.

It isn’t until the much smaller and wiry framed woman nestled beside him steps forward that she finally breaks eye contact.

Her bangs are even longer than her counterpart, but she wears it with in such a fashionable style that Wren is barely able to tell the difference in length. She’s dressed just as impeccable as her partners, but unlike the rest of them – there isn’t as much of an otherworldly-ness to her. She doesn’t have the same likeness that makes them a vampire. Still, something about her remains vaguely familiar despite Wren being unable to put her finger on it.

Apprehension makes the air around them shudder and Wren shifts uncomfortably on her feet from the sudden awareness of the terse atmosphere.

If their intentions aren’t as sincere as she hopes, she’d severely outmatched and a complete dumbass for meeting them alone. Even with her half-working fae powers at best, nothing can prepare her for taking on a bunch of vampires on. They’re ridiculously stronger than any average human, and as much as she’s fae – the rest of her is still human.

Steeling quiet resolve, Wren forces a smile at the sign of their approach. They’re a few feet away now and she has to convey complete confidence. You’re in control Wren, you’re in control. Not some meek-minded weak person. Although she’s looking for information, she can’t give them the idea she’s desperate. “I heard you’re the people that I’m looking for.” She inclines her head.

“Maybe, that really depends on you.” The guy with the crimson jacket grunts, his hand on his weapon.

The woman that’s been beside him this entire time, shoots him a sudden look. Then she straightens herself upright, the ruffles of her blouse crinkling at the motion. “I take it you’re Wren Howell, right?”

“Yup. And you’re…Nik’s associates.” Wren makes a gesture at them.

They’ve gradually grown closer and she can make out a gleam in one of their eyes.

“That’s correct. He mentioned you were looking for information.” The particularly fancy grey suit has folded his arms. His eyes are carefully neutral, which Wren suspects is something he does quite often when he’s assessing someone.

“Actually, I’m not just looking for information. I’m looking for someone. Cal. Cal Lowell.” She says his name a-matter-of-factly. “And I heard you may know how I can find him.” She takes a deep breath in an effort to keep her voice even. Although, she’s desperate to find him, she refuses to break down in front of a bunch of strangers. “I know you’re all meeting Landgon Kavinsky.” Her gaze steadily flits across to every one of them, pausing to emphasize the depth of her words. “And I know Cal’s last whereabouts were through him.” She hesitates before adding, “a couple night ago if I’m being completely honest. They had a meeting,” she continues steadily, the blade between her fingers moving more rapidly. “And no one’s seen or heard him since.”

The man in the crimson jacket whistles. “You sure don’t like to waste any time, do you? I kinda like that.”

“Me too.” The lavendair-haired woman chirps, flashing Wren a wide smile.

“Lily, we’re here to discuss something important – not flirt with our new guest.” Another one of the women chimes in; the shortest of all three with a bemused expression flitting across her face.

Lily pouts and Wren wrestles against the abrupt urge to smile. “I don’t see a point in beating around the bush. Time isn’t something I have a lot of, and I don’t want to spend precious seconds here when I could be looking for him out there.” She jerks her chin behind them.

For a few seconds, no one spoke.

Something in Wren’s chest tightens. “Look,” her voice cracks a little and she winces at the sound. “You can obviously tell that I care about the guy. I’m not going anywhere until you tell me something.” The switchblade within her grip moves a little faster – from finger to finger, “my gut is telling me that he’s in danger and I need to find him.” Her gut feelings have rarely – if ever been wrong before.

Grey-suit folds his arms while his brows arches to seemingly contemplate her words. Scrutinizing his expression, he breaks the quiet tenseness in the air first. “Harlow, you didn’t mention any of this.” He cuts his attention to the shortest of the two women in front of Wren.

The woman – Harlow, pinches her expression together as her lips thin into a faint frown. Cautiously, she peers back at him. “Sorry Adrian, I didn’t realize it was this serious. Nik wasn’t keen on so many details other than a name and Mr. Kavinsky’s usual meeting places.” She bites her low lip.

“So, you do know Kavinsky then?” Wren interrupts impatiently.

The other woman – tallest of all three who has yet to speak, suddenly bristles. Every length of her seems to stiffen. Her eyes narrow into slits as she speaks up, abruptly interjecting before Harlow is able to assemble any sense of an answer. “We may or may not, although that doesn’t explain why we should divulge such delicate information.” There’s an emphasis on her words and Wren detects a hint of a slight slur – fairly unlike any accent she has ever heard before.

“Kamilah!” Harlow’s face goes a little pale but Adrian seems to consider the other woman’s words carefully – he strokes his chin.

Kamilah snorts and crosses her arms. “You certainly can’t blame me. After all, we’ve only just met and I’m merely stating the obvious.”

Wren tenses. She gets it, but that doesn’t mean she has to like it. If circumstances were reserved, she wouldn’t be necessarily jumping at the opportunity to help. But she’s the one that needs their assistance – so she bites her tongue and shifts on her feet.

“She has every reason to be cautious. How do we know we can trust you?” Adrian tilts his chin, eyes glimmering from ashen black into twinges of deep red against the dark backdrop of the dim city lights.

“And how do we know we can’t?” Lily cuts in.

“This is no small favour.” Adrian meets Lily’s sudden frown until she drops her stare. “This isn’t just some stranger without a single pull in the city. We ‘re talking about – Mr. Lavinsky and he’s the kind of man no one should cross lightly.”

“I’m not asking for you to cross him,” Wren fights to keep her tone steady, but it’s hard. Every second she wastes standing here talking is another second Cal remains missing. “I’m asking for you to let me come along – let me find him on my own.”

“Like hell we will!” Kamilah snarls, baring her teeth.

The other vampire, whom Wren presumes to be Jax seem to echo her sentiment with a derisive snort, and his hand that’s rested on his weapon has turned white as he shoots Wren a glare. Although, both Harlow and Adrian seem to hesitate – glancing at their companions uneasily, it’s Kamilah who keeps pursing it. “This is not up for discussion. Absolutely not. You would jeopardize everything we’re trying to accomplish.”

“– you said you wanted information where he was – not that you wanted to come with us.” Jax adds, frowning.

Wren takes a deep breath, “okay fair. But you don’t get it. It’s for him. For Cal.” It’s always been for him. “I shouldn’t have let him go alone in the first place. I should’ve –” Her voice trembles a little, “dammit! He just shouldn’t have gone alone!” Her free hand clenches into a tight fist and suddenly she’s left with fighting the urge to hit something. “I should be there because when you love someone – there isn’t anything you wouldn’t do for them. So that’s why I’m here,” she spreads her arms out wide. “Standing and barely capable of holding it together at the thought of him being out there – alone.” She jerks her chin, “because that asshole locked him up.”

“You don’t know that.” Adrian’s brow furrows. “Mr. Kavinsky has never been the sort to add living people into his collections. That blurs all kinds of lines –”

“I’m not here to argue with you.” Wren interjects, jutting her chin out stubbornly. “I’m only here on a hunch and I don’t need the details of what you’re all doing here.” Okay, she’d love to know but that’s besides the point.

“Nik sent me, and like he said – you owe him one. These were his terms.” She makes a point of staring directly at Adrian and feels some satisfaction in noting a slight grimace in his appearance. She’ll definitely have to thank Nik later. If there is a later anyway. “And you don’t strike me as the type of person to go behind their word.”

“No.” Adrian sighs, and runs a hand through his hair. “I am usually a man of my word.” He turns his attention to Kamilah and Jax, “we need to take her with us.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Kamilah says curtly, shaking her head. “She could jeopardize everything.”

“Or she could help us.” Jax adds, his brow creasing in thought.

“Are we all on team Wren now?” Lily asks, bumping Jax’s arm.

Kamilah arches an eyebrow. “…..what makes you think we can even trust her?”

“…Uh, hello?” Wren waves a hand wildly in front of them, breaking shifting all their attention back on her. She gestures down at herself. “I’m still here. I didn’t just fade out of existence.”

“We can’t.” Adrian answers evenly, glancing objectively back at Kamilah. “Not with absolute certainty.”

“Hey!” Wren presses her fingers to her lips and whistle. “Listen, you can trust me enough because Nik sent me here.” Wren grumbles hotly, drawling out his name to emphasize her point.

If Adrian’s heard her, he makes a note of blatantly ignoring her outburst. The bastard.

Sure enough, within seconds Adrian lowers his voice until Wren can barely make out his words or what anyone else is saying.

Huffing a breath, Wren settles for balefully watching them instead. She taps her feet impatiently. Every now and then, they glance in her general direction and she opens her mouth to speak before they glance away and her mouth snaps back shut.

Ugh, I don’t have time for this. Clearing her throat, Wren glares at them. “As interesting as this has been, if you aren’t going to help me then we’re wasting each other’s time and I’ve got someone to save.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Harlow breaks the tenseness in the air first, her smile – alarmingly cool for someone that’s been mostly quiet this entire time. Her steady voice seems to put the others at ease too as she gestures between them. “We’re on board with taking you with us. We know exactly where Cal was taken.”

“You don’t know that for sure.” Kamilah intercedes, pursing her lips.

“I do,” Harlow suddenly retrieves a phone and points at the screen. “Because he suddenly decided to change our meeting spot and something tells me it’s where Cal is.”

Wren swallows back her sudden excitement. “Great.” She’s close – so close in finding him, so close in seeing him again. She takes a few steps towards them as Harlow taps across her phone’s screen. “When do we leave? Tomorrow night?” She’s hoping it won’t take anymore time. She’s itching for a fight.

“No. It’s happening tonight.”

Blood.

The smell of it is heavy and pungent in the air. It’s not just his blood either. There’s a mix of all sorts in here – supernatural creatures that has no business being locked up and tucked away from the rest of the world. And no matter what Cal does – there’s no escaping from it.

His eyes snap open with a gasp until he realizes he’s still cuffed and in chains, as the rest of details from the last several days come rushing back to him. Again.

Although he knows it’s futile, he wrestles against the metallic material across his wrists until his struggles turn into shaking, and the stupid thing administers another jolt of shock into his system. Another painful fucking reminder that he’s trapped.

The wolf in him whelps and practically seethes but the rest of Cal settles for gritting his teeth to prevent himself from yelping out loud. Fuck, he won’t ever give them that satisfaction. He wets his cracked dry lips as he sniffs the foul atmosphere; trying desperately to pick up any hints as to a way out of here but when nothing sticks out to him – he settles for slamming his fists against the glass – hoping feebly that his wolf strength won’t fail him now.

But it does fail him. He’s hungry, practically ravenous for something and his footing slips as he staggers against the surface.

He hears the sound of barely contained and muffled laughter. He growls. The least these assholes can do is feed him regularly but he supposes Kavinsky knows enough of werewolf physiology that feeding him more than a little does wonders for his strength. If he even has a little more, he’d be able to do something more than howl and shove his shoulders and fists fruitlessly against it.

Slamming his fist again, Cal manages another hard punch before slumping down the floor. He hugs his knees and leans his head back until it’s able to rest across the glass’ seemingly impenetrable surface. It’s no use. There’s no way he’s getting out of here.

Cal has spent the last few days trying to scratch, break, punch his way through the thick walls of his prison. But nothing’s changed. There’s no dent in the wall. No cracks in the glass because they know he’s not strong enough to do anything more. He’s not going to escape – Kavinsky built all these in a way that makes the idea laughable at best but still, Cal hopes.

His hope carries him to sleep. It deludes him into thinking he’ll wake up the next day in the comfort of his home – surrounded by people who love him. Donny and his petulant frowns whenever he’d scold him. Wren’s smirk or the mischievous glint she gets in her eyes whenever they’ve been left alone. I miss them. And the absence of their presence has left him cold all over.

He wedges his eyes close, tries to fight a panic attack with simple breathing. The wolf in him isn’t satisfied though, he snarls and tries to take control. But the cuffs around his wrist quickly remind him there’s no hope of him getting out.

Fuck – if he could only get these things off.

When Cal’s eyes flutter open, and he heaves a sigh. He’s never getting out of here. They narrow into slits a second later when the light above his head suddenly flickers then dies out. He stands a little straighter, the hairs on the back of his neck sticking as something in his gut implores that something is strong. Ignoring the abrupt panic seizing his chest, Cal presses his hands across the glass while he waits anxiously for something to happen.

The lights make a soft humming noise as they flicker back on.

What the hell was that? His ears perk at the abrupt and nearly muffled sounds of footsteps, followed by the rapid shouting voices. He can’t make them out yet – they’re still too far away. But he does gather through keenly listening that there’s some kind of a commotion going on. And by the sounds of it, it’s definitely something Kavinsky hadn’t expect.

Good, that bastard deserves everything that’s coming to him.

If only Cal wasn’t stuck in here and while all the action out there made him itch to try sifting again. If only he didn’t have these stupid cuffs on. If only he could do something more than stare miserably at the door, hanging onto every sound –

The cuffs around his wrist suddenly go slack and Cal blinks down at them in surprise. Something tells him not to wait – he shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. He’d rather count his blessings than take them for granted and he clenches his hands into fists – squeezing tightly before pushing them several inches apart from each other.

Snap.

He breaks free and what’s left of the metal is littered across his feet.

Stretching out his wrists for a moment, Cal grins. They’re still raw from how long his skin has been chafing but at least they’re free now. At least he’s free. Whatever’s out there – that’s where his concern should be. But instead of focusing on the qualms of what’s behind the door – his other half is practically straining against his rational side to be free.

He doesn’t waste any more time. With a howl, Cal sheds his human form and embraces the wolf with eager and wild abandon. Hunching over slightly; it takes seconds for the familiar rush of adrenaline to envelop his senses – to wrap him in an overwhelming sense of joy at finally being able to shift again. His pulse turns erratic while his bones crack and reforms themselves into place. Russet-coloured fur rapidly replaces where skin and he launches himself at the window – a streak of dark brown that shatters the glass barrier on contact.

The pieces fall at his feet.

Cal pauses long enough to howl and deeply inhale the heavy atmosphere.

There’s a change in the air and it spells something bad. Or good. He can’t decide. He doesn’t have complete focus like this, his instinct has almost completely taken over. The fact that his body is shaking in excitement but remains unmoving is a miracle of itself. His nose twitches as he inhales again, deeper this time – and there is a lot to find familiar.

There’s the unpleasant stuff that’s not easy miss – the dried blood of torture, the smell of unwashed people left alone for far too long. And the heavy odor of security’s body spray. But not all of it makes sense – some of what he’s able to smell is ridiculously strange. Another whiff of it allows Cal to realize the scent of blood isn’t merely the kind of creatures locked away – there’s fighting going on and the sickly odd smell happens to be bloodsuckers. His fur stands at ends with the rest of his body.

But there’s one - one familiar scent in the entire universe that he never thought he’d be able to enjoy again. Especially not after ending things.

No fucking way. It can’t be her.

But he knows her scent. He knows it so damn well because he’s spent a lot of time committing her to memory. He’s spent so much time running his tongue across her skin, nibbling her most sensitive spots, burying his lips by the crook of her shoulders, by her inner thighs – there’s no way he can ever forget her and suddenly he can’t wait to get out of here.

With another low growl, Cal hastily bounds to the door. There’s no sense in trying the lock, he simply paws at it – claws crunching the metal, until he’s able to administer one hard shove.t

The door bursts wide open.

It looks like he’s made it just in time.

Their plan worked.

Wren wants to laugh in disbelief but she’s too preoccupied with fighting against the wave of security to stay alive. She can’t give anything more than a momentary we-did-it yell inside her mind before there’s another asshole to clock in the head.

She ducks under the arm of her current assailant and deftly switches the hand of her switchblade. She wipes alongside the length of his beefy arm. The man cries out in pain and Wren takes the opportunity in stride, knocking him flat on his ass by shoving the brunt of her palm towards his chin.

Another guard manages to land a solid punch to her jaw and Wren fights against the sudden stab of pain. Gritting her teeth, she spins away as he titters forward to push on the offensive. She utters a harsh battle cry and feints right, landing a front kick to the chest before his entire body goes flying.

A third guard slams into her, knocking her to the floor. Her back arches in pain and she hisses as the man tries to press his palms into her neck. Choking, Wren head-butts him, almost seeing stars but it isn’t enough to throw him off.

Suddenly he cries out and stops moving. Shoving him off her, Wren kicks him for good effort as she spots two arrows lodged firmly into his chest. Surprised, she glances up in time to notice Lily’s thumbs up before she spins away to strike another security guard.

From across the room, the crimson jacket vampire tosses his katana with breakneck speed towards another guard that seemed to be seconds away from grabbing Harlow’s arm. It lands almost directly in the base of his skull and Harlow yells a word of thanks before gripping the hilt of the sharp weapon and yanking it out.

A hair length away Kamilah has already dealt with a handful of security, dancing in and out of their reach as the set of her elegantly tipped daggers follow the motion. Her eyes are terrifyingly beautiful; dark red – glimmering in delight as another guard falls to her feet. She throws a wink over her shoulder when she spots Wren watching.

“Duck!”

Acting on instinct, Wren listens to the commanding voice and watches in awe as Adrian practically sails across her head. He’s launched himself at two enemies, burying his fangs into their neck as they scream in pain.

Holy shit, they’re amazing.

The group in front of her aren’t just business associates. They aren’t just friends either. They’re well-oiled machine, stepping into place to defend and attack on each other’s behalf. If one doesn’t make a killing blow – another person is suddenly there to aid them, and Wren does everything she can to keep pace with their efficiency.

A sudden howl fills the air in the middle of all this chaos. Her heart skips a beat at the sound. There’s only one wolf that sounds like that. Powerful. Magnetic. It’s not like she could ever forget his voice – wolf or human.

Without thinking she raises her chin – just in time to spot all eight hundred pounds of lycan bustling from out of the hall and sending the rest of people scattering in his wake. Screams fill the air and there almost isn’t place Wren looks without a splatter of blood.

His bright amber eyes meet hers for a moment, softening before hardening again at guards still left alive. A howl rumbles and escapes his throat.

Wren watches a little mystified at the immeasurable speed he’s able to strike – muscles that bunch together and ripple beneath his fur with every movement. His razor-sharp claws slice through thin air as though he knows exactly where they’ll be before they even know it. The sounds of complete agony fill the re room and become loud enough to drone out the erratic pacing of Wren’s own heartbeat.

The screaming quickly turns into silence.

Wren wipes the worst of the blood off of her face.

The adrenaline is still flooding her veins at an incredible rate and it doesn’t take her long to cross the space between left them – her heart hammering wildly in her chest again, every step of the way. It’s him. It’s really him.

She can scarcely believe it. But he is – right here.

He bounds loftily towards her – fur practically trembling from anxiety.

She can’t hear what he’s thinking but radiates worry, fear. “I’m here. I’m really here Cal.” She wants to reassure him but her voice chokes on the words. “And you’re okay, god I’m so glad you’re okay.”

Are those tears?

Something wet has touched her cheeks but she doesn’t care, he’s here.

Cal drops to his hind legs and his large forearms cocoon her to his chest.

The heat is a blissful, welcoming feeling, like the furnace he always is – it takes no time for her to feel his heat all the way down to her toes.

He lets out a deep hum as she buries her fingers into his mane.

Seconds pass before the fur she’s been stroking turns to soft skin. His skin is slicked with sweat and he’s almost too hot for her fingers to wince in return, but to Wren it’s still the greatest feeling in the world. He’s back where he belongs – he’s home.

Wren squeezes her eyes shut and buries her lips into the crook of his neck as he effortlessly lifts her off her feet. The sudden motion makes her fumble and nearly lose her footing, but the rest of her body reacts almost steadfast – clinging onto him tightly as an abrupt and startled laugh leaves her throat.

Usually, she hates when he does that – hates it more when she cries, especially in front of him – let alone the audience she’s all but forgotten in her haste to get to him. She hates what she’s doing now even more, trembling at his touch and muttering non-stop through ardent words of how much she’s missed him – missed them.

But she does it all the same, because the words keep leaving her lips without her thinking – without her censoring any of it. She’s shaking so much with relief that when he lifts her higher, all she has is an eyeful of his breathtaking smile – and it’s as if she’s staring into richly intense sunshine.

Warm-eyes, like the colour of soil flecked with black and gold don’t waver from her stare. They’re just an enthralled. Then he bumps his forehead affectionately against hers’, pressing his sweaty brow and whispering softly under his breath. “I love you too.”

What?

Her heart leaps. A hysterical laugh bubbles from her throat.

Is that the only take-away he’s gotten from what she’s said?

Then she says it again, only because he’s smiling at her and she wants to keep commit it to memory. “I love you – you idiot.” She repeats it a third time and then again, cupping one of his cheeks as her own cheeks suddenly grow hot – flushed by the sincerity behind her words.

“Does that mean we’re no longer broken up?” His eyes search hers’ uncertaintly.

She manages a shaky laugh. “I think Nik wants his couch back, and I can’t even manage a whole week without you let alone a whole lifetime.” She doesn’t care if they have an audience, she can’t stand the idea of not touching him any longer – of not sinking into him the way she’s thought of ever since he left.

Greedy fingers quickly tangle in his hair. It’s matted and sweaty but it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter because it’s still Cal. Her Cal. Her mate.

She has all of him in front of her and the last she wants to do turn away from something so fruitless. She yanks him closer, impatient to have more than just him looking at her with clear adoration clouding his eyes – she needs to feel him, to really feel him. She has to show him how much she really loves him.

The kiss is hot and demanding.

God, she’d forgotten how much she melts under his lips. They’re rough and coarse – but they’re everything. She’s on cloud nine, swimming with happiness and relief all melded into one. Fuck, how had she managed to let him go? To let this go?

She grips him tighter as his fingers drift into a downward trail across her hips and then her thighs. He hooks his hands there as she wraps her legs scantily around him, hiking the length of her pants when his fingers dig into the garment.

He moans low in his throat.

It’s a sound that makes heat coil in her belly and painfully aware how long it’s been since she’s had him, naked and panting in their bedroom – since she’s seen the face he makes when he comes inside her. At this angle she can feel every bit of how much he’s missed her too.

God. He is real. And she’s never letting him go again. He doesn’t know it yet, but he’s stuck with her – for good this time.

The sudden clear of someone’s throat behind them has grounded Wren back into reality. She blinks and then reluctantly pulls away. Before he sets her on her feet again, she watches in mild satisfaction at how quickly his eyes darken once they linger on her face.

Taking off her jacket, Wren hastily ties it around his lean hips as all eyes remain rooted in their direction.

Before she can step away, Cal snakes a hand loosely around her waist and keeps her tucked at safely at his side. “I think I’m missing something here.” He doesn’t relax completely. He tilts his chin and sniffs the air. “Bloodsuckers.”

“Good, bloodsuckers –” Wren elbows him. “If it wasn’t for them, I wouldn’t have found you.”

Kamilah wipes her daggers clean and raises one critical eyebrow. “The least you can do is say thanks, pup.”

Cal’s stiffens.

“I think what Kamilah means to say is,” Harlow holds up her hands, smiling hesitantly at Cal’s decisively protective stance. “We wanted to help.” Jax appears by her side as she speaks, rubbing blood absently off her arm. “The idea of anyone suffering in some place like this is sickening and wrong.” Her face twists. “It seems that our information on Mr. Kavinsky wasn’t all what it’s cracked up to be anyway.”

“You didn’t find what you were looking for?” Wren asks, dragging her eyes away from Cal. If only for a moment. The least she should do is properly thank them.

A look passes between all four of them. Ah. They definitely aren’t going to share that kind of information with her – which makes her want to know even more. What exactly are they hiding?

“While I think introductions are in order,” Adrian lips curve in slight amusement, breaking Wren out of her wayward thoughts. “I believe we should probably head out of here. We did let go all those other people too. They’re probably destroying the place as we speak.”

“Wait, what?” Cal’s mouth hangs open for a moment before just as swiftly snapping shut.

As if to emphasize his point, the entire ground floor begins shaking.

“Yeah, you’ve missed a lot.” Wren pats his arm.

Lily’s the only one that’s still staring as if struck in awe. “You’re a werewolf?” She pauses to think, “well – I mean I saw you. But I still can’t really believe it.” She smiles, “I have so many questions.”

“Before you ask – no werewolves do not go into heat.” Cal’s tone is almost deadpanned.

“And it’s definitely not the time Lil.” Although, Harlow laughs as she says it.

“God, I know so many fanfic authors that’d be disappointed.”

“Who are you again?” His brow furrows.

“I’ll fill you in on the way.” Wren mutters, grabbing his arm. Although she hesitates, and drops her gaze down the length of his body – almost drawing in a shaky breath at how visibly stunning he is.

Gaah. A part of her wants nothing more than to pry that jacket off him, but the rest of her realizes she’ll have to wait. Although, she has a peculiar feeling that it’ll be worth it – it still takes a tremendous amount of effort not to jump him right then and there. “I uh -,” a spot of color touches her cheeks as she glances away. “I brought some clothes with me.” Then she clears her throat, turning back to smirk at him. “But feel free to walk around naked on my account.” She gestures to him, “I certainly won’t stop you.”

His confident smile falters and he bashfully glances down at his feet before chuckling. “I’ll take my chances with the clothes this time.” He shifts his attention briefly towards the rest of their little group. Already, they’ve started dispersing after checking the security feeds. “Thank you,” he says earnestly.

“You should be thanking her” Jax jerks his chin towards Wren. “She wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

Cal bends slightly to bump his forehead affectionately against hers’. “Thank you.”

“Never scare me like that again.” She says the words seriously but her stomach still flips at his heart-felt gesture. “And you can thank me properly when we’re all safely outside.”

He breaks out into a grin. “Deal.”

Giving his hand a light squeeze, Wren returns the smile before fixing Adrian with raised eyebrows and a very important question. “Now how the hell are we supposed to get out –”

“I’ve already got us covered.” Lily interjects, tucking several braids behind her ear. She’s been tapping through something on her phone for the last several seconds before glancing up with a confident smile. “Just follow me.”

By the time they’ve left, the building is almost in ruins. From the outside, it looks nearly the same – a few missing pieces of brick and cracked windows, but these are the only telltale signs of destruction. However, on the inside – most of Kavinsky’s collections have either been stolen, broken or severely disfigured.

It’s a pity he isn’t among what’s left behind. Even if he was still alive – Kavinsky has multiple targets on his back.

Cal doesn’t think he’ll re-surface anytime soon, but he’d have liked giving that asshole a piece of his mind.

The rest of his mind has more important matters to contend with – he’s alive and he vows never to take that for granted ever again. He can scarcely believe it himself, after the last couple days he’s had – trapped in the prison of a madman.

But he’s not there anymore – or is he? How is being in the company of strangers any better? He doesn’t know them and they’ve offered him a place for the night, a place for both of them.

For a moment, Cal was beginning to think escaping was some sort of fever dream. How else can he explain the absence of cuffs on his wrists? The uneasy happiness filling his chest? Did he ever leave? Or was he so lost in his delusion that he’d concoct this whole reality?

The last time he’s seen her, she wasn’t nestled by his side the way she is now – she was throwing accusations at him. How can he believe his own eyes, or listen to his heart after everything he’s been through?

Cal feels soft fingers cupping his chin, forcing his gaze from the window and unto the softest expression of pure love he’s ever seen from her face.

It’s like she can tell his thoughts are spiraling and having her touch helps to ground him back into reality. His eyes flutter close of their own accord as she leans into him.

“You’re okay.” She says the words gently, “we’re okay.”

He listens to the sound of her voice, allowing its gentleness to creep back into his heart. She’s right. He isn’t back here, he’s with her – with the only person he’s ever loved. Fuck, it feels so good to have her here.

“Wren,” his voice cracks and she’s looking up at him again. There’s a lot he wants to say, a lot that they haven’t said. Where do they go from here?

He’s still the alpha.

She loves him but he’s still the alpha.

As far as he’s concerned nothing’s really changed.

In any other reality – maybe things could have been different. Maybe he could shirk from his responsibilities and ride into the sunset with her; build a life together - separate from all this chaos in NOLA. But he thinks about Donny and his last year in school. He thinks about those kids from Shaw’s pack and all the other people counting on him.

“We can talk later.” She promises.

He swallows past the sudden lump in his throat and forces a smile of gratitude. This isn’t the time or place for that kind of conversation, but staring deeply into those deeply warm eyes – Cal wants to put her first.

And that, perhaps is the most dangerous and scariest knowledge of it all.

#cal x mc #cal x mc fanfic #cal lowell fanfiction #cal lowell #playchoices #nightbound #nightbound fanfiction #choices stories you play #cal x wren #cal lowell x wren howell #playchoices fanfiction #choices fanfiction #long post #we're seven parts in #and i figured out a title name lol #maybe i should run it by you guys #an angstymarshmallow writes

76 notes · View notes

bioticgoddess · 6 years

Text

Songbirds and Baby Bats (I)

Series Summary: Jason Todd returns from the dead and, after the events of Under the Red Hood,he goes from Gotham to Bludhaven in search of himself...and an old friend. But getting your life back is never easy and Black Mask has enlisted the aid of Gotham’s other Crime Families as well as a few ghosts of Batman’s past. He’s coming for the Red Hood and everyone of his allies.

I may have saved a bunch of the pictures for the Red Hood Fan Series from https://cd828studios.wixsite.com/redhood ‘s website. Expect more of these as covers for my Red Hood stuff. --- Part I:

Nightwing regarded the two men, unconscious and propped up against one another on the rooftop, “Did you really have to dial up the voltage on those things?”

“Oy, at least it’s not so bad as those gloves Electrocutioner wears,” Wren snipped at him, clicking the tasers in her gloves off. She knelt beside one of the men, they were both wearing Joker’s colors. “Since when did this prick leave Gotham,” she asked, changing subject and tossing the clown’s card, extricated from the breast pocket of the man closest to her, across to Nightwing.

Her partner caught it before the heavy sharpened steel playing card struck him. “Don’t get any ideas little bird,” he cautioned, turning the Joker card over in his hands. “I got a bad feeling about this.” Joker didn’t usually stray outside Gotham, except for the occasional trip to Metropolis- but that was usually tied to something he already had in the works elsewhere. Hell, anything that pulled the psychotic clown from his home had something to do with Gotham. Or Batman – at the very least it was tied to their former mentor.

“Where he’s concerned it’s always bad,” she added, using a couple sets of flex cuffs to secure the unconscious men’s wrists. For added measure she overlapped their cuffs so they couldn't wander off independent of one another. Unbidden, the image of Jason Todd’s bloody body flashed in her mind. Squeezing her eyes closed like she was fighting some kind of pain, Wren muttered, “Always.”

Nightwing rested a hand on her shoulder. He knew her well enough to know what that hesitation meant. “You should go see him – Jason, I mean.” What he meant was Jason’s grave at Wayne Manor, not the actual boy. “Take a few days,” he continued, waving his free hand nonchalantly as he talked, “I’ll do the leg work on this one.”

Since his successor’s death, five years prior, Nightwing Dick Grayson had tried his best to keep the young woman away from anything involving Joker. Kept her far from Gotham, and away from Bruce, for good measure. In the wake of Jason’s death all of them had kept out of Bruce and Joker’s gravity.

“No,” she countered, shrugging off his hand as she stood, “I mean. I’ll go see Jason, but I’m not staying out of this case. Whatever that basterd’s up to, it’s in our city Grayson.” Sighing heavily, she added, “Besides, he’d want me to do what he can’t.” Wren was far away from the skyscraper’s roof when she talked about Jason, he knew why almost better than anyone. After what Joker had done to Barbara a year or so earlier, he had a better understanding of the grief she felt over Jason’s death. Thankfully, the former Batgirl had survived.

Their moment of contemplation was shattered.

“Well aren’t you two cute,” an augmented voice mocked, followed by a warning shot fired through the space between the pair. On instinct, the former sidekicks dove for cover. The industrial HVAC machines and protruding vents providing temporary shielding from whoever had fired at them. “How close you’ve become over the years,” he chuckled mockingly, “Almost makes me sick.”

Wren turned the charges back on in her gloves, one hand coming to rest on one of the batons strapped to her thigh. “Bloody wonderful,” she murmured.

Nightwing taunted back, making a series of hand motions to Wren from his hiding place, “Family thing, you wouldn’t get it.” He went high, she went low. Popping up like a jack-in-the box, he threw his bird shaped shuriken at the man. Simultaneously, Wren moved outside and close to the roof, flanking their attacker.

A series of shots rang out, shattering the flying blades.

Taking a deep breath, Wren wheeled out from behind an HVAC unit to the left of their assailant. Using the machine as leverage, she landed with one hand planted firmly on the man’s shoulder. The electric charge that should have stunned him at least partially absorbed in his body armor and dark-brown leather jacket.

He grunted and doubled over momentarily. Despite the obviously cramped and convulsing muscles in his body, he brought back an elbow that caught Wren hard in the solar plexus. She gasped as he growled at her from behind his red helmet, “Stay out of this.” A second later he charged towards Nightwing. His long strides and intensity matching the former Robin’s own.

“Bloody hell,” she sucked in a sharp breath, dropping to one knee. The boys grappled. It was like watching Dick and Tim spar. Their general moves and fighting styles eerily similar. This guy knew when to duck; when to block; even when it would be opportune to throw his own punches. What he didn’t notice, however, was Nightwing pushing him back towards Wren. The acrobat was taking ground from the gunslinger, inch by inch.

One cargo pantsed leg extend behind him. The attempt at bracing was within Wren’s reach. The light gravel on the rooftop slid and crunched under her feet as the Irish girl dove. Both hands clasped around his leg and the electrical charge in her gloves surging up through the outstretched limb. It brought him down to both knees, groaning and cursing in sharp hisses between what sounded like clenched teeth.

The charge fully released, she scrambled to her feet. “Fuck! Irish gimme a break,” the man barked behind his crimson helmet. The nickname...his nickname froze her in her tracks.

Even Nightwing stopped.

Only one person had ever called her that. Only one person could get away with it and he was five years dead. Buried. Wren flushed, reaching out the grab the side of one of the tall metal vents. One word was all it had taken and it felt like gravity had been turned off in her world.

“Can’t be,” Nightwing whispered, his defensive stance relaxing as he visibly had the same thought she did. That heartbeat was when he got a good look at the guy. He was taller, broader in the shoulders, and just..bigger...than Dick. His outfit: the dark brown leather jacket, the black cargo pants tucked into heavy matching combat boots, and the black armor (not unlike his own) - made him twice as imposing as either Nightwing or Wren. The focal point, a red bat-symbol emblazoned across chest felt like an insult. It was salt in a wound Dick didn’t know he had.

Half a dozen glib comments shot through the acrobat’s head, pushed to the side by reflex and tactical calculus as the other man came at him again. This time he had a knife. Escrima sticks or not, he was good enough to get in under Dick’s defenses. Slashing at and grazing the armor. God bless that Wayne Tech titanium-tri weave that made up their combat suits.

The startled shout that came from Nightwing snapped Wren back to her senses. Without thinking, as she was prone to, the Irish girl picked herself. Pushing off the metal vent she shot forward. Arms locking around the man’s midsection. Forward momentum sent them off balance and forced him to his knees then face first into the roof. The knife clattering across the asphalt and gravel.

Training kicked in before her shoulder ground into the roof and Wren rolled forward twice more. She spun around on one knee to face him.

Winded he pushed himself up off his stomach, “Well this wasn’t my smartest plan.” Face pointed at the roof, he missed Nightwing yanking Wren behind cover. Voice lowered he grumbled, “Well, you did have a few extra years of his training big bird.”

A knot formed in Wren’s stomach. This was a gamble that could land her with a bullet through her head. But it was a gamble she had to take. Popping around and into the open before Nightwing could react found her with one of the firearms pointed directly at her chest. “Jason, stop,” her voice was low, heart hammering almost in her ears.

“Wren, what are you doing,” Nightwing demanded, still tucked behind the HVAC unit, his shuriken ready to fly if this gambit of hers failed.

She acknowledged her partner’s comment with a wave of her hand – silencing him as well. “It’s you isn’t it,” nearly tripping over her words as she went, brow furrowed behind her domino mask, “I don’t know how, but it’s you.” The man she presumed to be Jason stood steadfast, a kill shot still trained on Wren. Then, when she was convinced he’d shoot her, he pulled his arm back, clicking the safety in place with his thumb. His index finger slipping off the trigger and to the guard.

Holstering the weapon he chuckled behind the red helmet. It was becoming a theme. “Jason,” she called his name again, reaching out reflexively. Palm pressed against his chest, just over the bat symbol; he stepped back. The entire exchange was uncomfortable, enough that none of them moved.

The man laughed, a heavy nervous belly laugh and reached up to his helmet. At least someone thought this whole situation was hilarious. The wind picked up and whipped around them on the roof. Pulling the helmet clear of his head, the man praised Wren, “Clever little bird.” The joy was sucked out of his face and voice as quickly as it appeared. Looking over to the pair he snapped derisively, “I see you two got on just fine without me.” It was sharp, angry.

“Jason,” Wren’s Hail Mary had paid off. “What the bloody hell are you on about?” The Irish was coming out in her voice as emotion peaked. Relieved...no,elated as she was to see him. If he was going to accuse her of anything other than breathing then she might clock him. Besides, if anyone was going to get an ass chewing tonight it was him - for being alive and not telling her. For picking a fight with and using what looked like lethal, even if it was half-assed, force against she and Dick. Arm falling to her side, she balled both of her hands into fists.

It was Nightwing who answered the charge laid against them, “Fine? You think we were fine without you?” The outrage in his voice startling Jason more than anything. His eyes went wide behind the red domino mask he’d worn under his helmet. “Hah! I lost a brother and she – you’re fucking blind if you think she was fine.” The eldest of Bruce’s adoptive sons was practically seething.

Wren was too busy wrestling with the contrary urges to wrap her arms around or beat the crap out of Jason to bother interrupting or correcting Dick.

Looking between them, Jason snapped, “So why’s the clown alive? Why are you both in Bludhaven!” Neither of them answered. “That’s what I thought,” he snapped again. Jason clenched his jaw, obviously ready to attack again.

Wren - Amy - spoke fist. Hesitant, like she was unsure of the words coming out of her mouth or if she should even share the information with him. “Bruce nearly kill him. We still don’t know why he didn’t. Maybe he realized revenge wouldn’t bring you back. Til now we’ve all believed you gone, buried.” Her eyes were on Jason’s boots. Chewing her lip for a moment, Amy continued, “Losing you about killed me. If Dick hadn’t offered me a place in Bludhaven, it might well have. Gotham’s...a good place to get yourself killed on vengeance.”

That sent the color from Jason’s face. He reached out, arm stopping half way between himself and Amy. “Dick, go,” Jason requested, eyes flitting over to his adoptive brother. “Sounds like you took care of her, so I owe you.”

When he didn’t move, Wren turned around and nodded to him. She mouthed “I’ll be fine”. Unwilling to leave but not with much of a choice, unless he wanted to continue fighting with Jason and his guns, Dick sighed. Walking past them he patted a hand on Jason’s shoulder, squeezing it in an attempt to be the overprotective sibling, “Don’t you dare hurt her.”

“You know I won’t,” Jason’s face and eyes softened briefly.

Exasperatedly, Nightwing walked off past the two Joker Gang members they’d dealt with earlier. Both were blissfully unconscious, a small blessing considering how they’d thrown each other’s real names around. Casting a final look over his shoulder at the pair, Nightwing disappeared over the edge of the rooftop.

The second he heard the scraping of boots against the roof’s edge and the soft explosion of grappling gun propellant, Jason wrapped his arms tightly around Wren’s waist – dropping his helmet to the rooftop. Her own arms encircled his wais. Eyes squeezed closed, he buried his face in her hair. It had been too long and he felt that lost time constrict his chest.

“Let’s go somewhere else,” she suggested, his smell of leather and gunpowder strangely comforting in the moment. She’d all but forgotten about the two unconscious men she and Nightwing had apprehended.

Jason nodded, brushing some stray hairs back into her braid before stepping back and collecting his helmet. Inhaling deeply, Wren tapped out an alert via her communication gauntlet for the Bludhaven police. “You’ll need to explain all that,” She pointed at the helmet and red bat symbol on his combat suit, starting towards the opposite corner of the roof.

He spun on his heel and putting an arm around her shoulders fell in lockstep with the girl. The wail of sirens coming ever closer. “This,” he said, “You know anyone who’s earned it more than me?” It was a rhetorical question, the smirk and wink he flashed made that much clear.

Rolling her eyes, Amy shot him another exhausted look before shooting her grappling hook to the next building over. Jason was still the same smartass she remembered. The cable went taught before the mechanisms in the grappling gun yanked her through the air. The air rushing past her, past them both, was freedom. As they continued across roofs, deploying and re-deploying their grappling guns, Jason called behind her, “I’ll explain when we get wherever you’re leading,” there was a smile in his voice. He sounded...relaxed. Or relieved? She wasn’t sure which and neither was Jason.

Inevitably, they came to the roof of her condominium complex. The balcony of Amy’s top floor unit like beacon of hope below their feet, which dangled from the top of the roof’s overhang. The pair straddled the barrier, facing one another. Jason’s helmet sat between his legs, his dark hair cropped shorter than she remembered. He sighed heavily, voice echoing the exhaustion drawing at his face. Looking down at the red metal and plastic egg of a helmet he asked, “What happened after I…died.”

The question hung in the air. Amy pursed her lips, reaching up to peel off her domino mask. It took a fair portion of the eye-black and adhesive with it. Anxiously she ran her thumbs back and forth along the stick back of the mask.

“The abridge version,” Her words were carefully measured. “We buried you. Or, at least thought we buried you. Far as any of us knew, you were in that coffin. Um...because of what happened, Bruce didn’t request an autopsy. It was closed casket. Your obituary read you died in a hit and run. I cried for a week, or at least until it hurt to cry. Dick...um...he caught me trying to go after Joker on my own and dragged me back to the Manor. Made me the offer to come to Bludhaven. I think I knew that killing Joker wouldn’t make anything better, even if it could’ve brought you back. So here we are, five years later.” She nodded rhythmically to herself as she finished the account.

He snorted, shaking his head, “Well, that lines up with the conversation I had with Bruce and Alfred.”

Brow furrowed at him, head cocked to the side quizzically, Amy invited, “Your turn then?”

Swinging his legs over the edge of the roof, Jason sighed, “You’ll want to be comfortable. It’s…complicated…” A second later he dropped the half dozen feet down to her balcony. Really he just didn’t want her to attack him when he relayed the account of what had transpired in Gotham. It was apparent that at least she hadn’t spoken with Bruce or Alfred. If Dick knew, he’d let nothing on during their brief conversation on the roof across town. He caught the handle of sliding door as Amy dropped behind him onto the balcony. He was almost relieved that she left her balcony door unlocked. After all, what were the odds a normal person would bother climbing up to the fifteenth floor of a high-rise building to break in.

They slipped inside and he took a look around what Amy called home. A table littered with pieces of electronics and other tools of the vigilante trade lined the wall of what was likely meant to be a dinning area. A big couch sat just off-center in the main portion of the room, facing a television. Save for her work area, the only place that looked used was the kitchen. Of course it did, Amy had always had a habit of disappearing into the one at Wayne Manor when she was stressed. Innumerable kitchen injuries aside, it always yielded something edible. He smiled at the amalgam of memory and slid out of his jacket.

“Here,” she patted the back of a dining room chair, her utility belt and gloves slung over the back of one beside it. “I’ll make some tea, you get comfortable.” It was an order more than anything, one he was pleased to follow.

Sighing he sank into the couch and started reaching for his boots. Only stopping when he touched the laces and heard her Amy click on the electric kettle. His brain, survival instincts, and slight paranoia from the five years that had passed crashing over him like a wave. They weren’t the same people, they’d been before. Not by a long shot. Releasing the still-tied laces of his combat boots Jason sat up straight again. He wasn’t shutting down but he was suddenly uncomfortable and fought to keep it hidden. That intimacy from earlier feeling far away and out of reach. “Do you still take it with honey and lemon,” she called, making him jump. “Jay?”

“Yes and don’t worry about it,” he tried not to sound as tense as he suddenly found himself. When Amy finally sat on the sofa beside him, Jason sighed heavily. The mug of tea he took from her was warm in his hands. Focusing on that, he looked at her out of the corner of his eye, his own red domino mask still on, “Ra’s pulled me out of that coffin before it ended up in Bruce’s hands. You said it was closed casket?” She nodded, re-confirming the account. “Well, I took a swim – so to speak – in a Lazarus Pit and here I am. Took a while to get my head on straight, to get back to the States. I actually had Gotham Crime down for a while there,” that got Amy’s attention and she set her cup down, sitting square to Jason. “Yea…I got Black Mask’s men to flip on him. They stopped dealing to kids, it was working. I was doing what Batman didn’t, wouldn’t! Almost killed the Joker while I was at it,” he said hurriedly, shaking his head and staring down into the citrusy green tea, “Got a building dropped on me in the process. Y’know, my usual shit.”

All of the emotions she’d held in check the last several years finally boiled over thanks to his nonchalance. She snapped, “What the bloody hell Jason! You’ve been alive this whole fecking time! Instead of coming to me or Dick or ALFRED you went off and..and..started in on Bruce and bloody well about got yourself killed again! AGAIN!” Overwhelmed was an understatement. Tears had welled up, spotting the corners of her eyes and running open streams through what remained of the eye black. “You fecking ass!”

Jason leaned back warily, setting the cup down on her coffee table as his back hit the arm of the couch. Being as nonchalant as he had was a poor choice. He should’ve known better. She’d leaned forward slightly with the weight of it all and let out a frustrated cry. “You’re cute when you’re angry,” He teased gently, hoping it wouldn’t blow up in his face.

His hands found their way to her biceps. “Ass,” she grumbled, fighting the urge to collapse forward into him.

“I’m sorry Irish,” he swallowed, hard. “I’m sorry.”

---

Footnotes: For the purposes of this story, the ages of the Robins and the OC are as follows -- Jason and Amy are 22; Dick is 25; Tim is 16.

Apologies for any spelling or grammar errors I missed.

#jason todd #red hood #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd x oc #red hood x oc #dc comics imagines #dc imagines #nightwing #batman imagine #jason todd imagine #red hood imagine

9 notes · View notes