#Why yes they did have a one-night stand with Constantine before | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bebepac · 30 days

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Six Sentence Sunday 03.31.24

Is it me you're looking for? Yes, I know I've been M.I.A. for a bit, but you guys I'm really trying to upper level adult here. I have decided I'm going to buy a house. So I have hired a realtor and have started the process. When my lease is up again, I WILL be moving into my home.

Let's see if I remember how to set one of these up!

Original post 03/31/24 at 8:02PM EST

Chapter 9: Riley Brooks's Day Off

The Series: Life of Riley Book 2

The Book: TRR

Pairings: Liam x Riley (Liam x F!MC)

Status: Still in the writing process

Since the challenges Constantine had been coming up with weekly for the suitors were getting a lot of publicity for the crown, the suitors met weekly for a meeting with a PR specialist to make sure they had the crown’s best interests in everything they did. They also passed out weekly itineraries of what the Suitors would be doing. Did it ever reveal any events they would be participating in? No, but that their sponsor would be revealing the new task and prize for that week."

Riley thumbed through the itinerary, once than again looking confused.

“Is something wrong Lady Riley?”

“Jenna, my booklet seems to be missing a page. I have nothing for Friday’s itinerary .”

“Actually no you’re not. None of you are. Since I've just been brought into this role, I know you ladies are going through a lot being thrust into the public eye in this magnitude. Lady Riley, you for example, you are coming to us from America and have no experience with dealing with the nobility on a daily basis, and are completely learning how to navigate court successfully from scratch. I recognize this to be quite the experience. The potential reward of all of this is indescribable, but you all need breathing moments for mental and physical wellbeing. We are building in “off days” to your schedule to do what you want with it, a recharge day of sorts, or a mental health day if you will.”

“Well if you’re weak you need days off. I will spend my time training.” Olivia chimed in.

“If that is how you want to spend your day Olivia, there are no wrong answers, it’s free to do whatever you want, as long as you enjoy it.”

That evening:

“Of course, you would have an off day when I’m out of the country.” Liam sounded genuinely disappointed.

“I know I thought about that too.”

“Take it as an opportunity Riley, do some exploring, sleep in a little bit, we both know you like your sleep. Relax. You know, life moves really fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.”

“You’re completely right Liam. Thanks.”

“Sounds like you have a plan.”

“I do.”

When she hung up with him, she called Maxwell.

“What’s up Little Blossom?”

“I need your help.”

WIP 2

Part 3: Spice Spice Baby

Series: Not officially one: Previous Parts include: Cinnamon Spice and Everything Nice

The Book: TRR

Pairings: Liam x Bebe (Liam x F!OC)

Status: Still in the writing process

I have never required that much sleep. There has always been something so peaceful about the world at night for me. I glanced at her once more before getting out of bed. She was soundly sleeping and didn’t even stir from her slumber as I rose. A good mattress will do that, and honestly I think she needed the rest. I slipped on my pajama pants and walked to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water.

Night time was when I did my best thinking, and the thought crossed my mind that the two of us would be able to pull off this ruse with my coworkers. Bebe really did seem invested to make “us work.” Or maybe she was invested in the paycheck.

“Was my snoring keeping you awake?”

Bebe was standing in the doorway of the kitchen, resting her hip on the frame, her robe loosely tied.

“You don’t snore.”

“And you,” she gently tapped my nose with her pointer finger, “are a liar.”

“I wasn’t lying, I didn’t hear you snoring, or if you were, you weren’t disturbing me.”

“Why are you up, Liam?”

“Why are you up, Bebe?”

She quirked her eyebrow at me, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I rarely sleep through the whole night, I’m always up for a bit.”

“Why?”

Her stare from across the room was almost piercing my soul.

“Therapist was not one of your duties I'm paying you for in our contract.”

She looked surprised, but more importantly, hurt by my remark. In a split second I had turned her into a business arrangement that she was a prostitute, that I was paying for a service.

“Oh, well you’re paying me a handsome sum, therefore I feel like I should be anything you need me to be at the moment. I’ll just….”

I had hurt her feelings, and snapped at her, and I didn’t even know why, and the look in her eyes, I didn’t want to ever see that again.

“Life.” I called out to her before she was out of the room. Bebe immediately stopped and turned to face me.

“I can relate to that. Do you mind if I just sit up with you for a bit then?”

“No, not at all.”

Bebe settled into the couch next to me. She didn’t say a word, but I found her silence and non-judgment strangely comforting.

WIP 3

Part 4

Series: The Vampires Live On

The Book: TRR

The Pairing: Liam x Riley (in this decade Gabriel x Alice in the past)

Status: Still in the writing process

“We’re here.”

“I really didn’t think it would be this clean here. I know what you said, but looking at the other graves along the way here, I expected the same condition.”

“You know, I can be very persuasive, and keeping in contact as the groundskeeper’s changed over the years, very important in this. “

“I didn’t think they would be buried side by side.”

“Because that didn’t matter here, and since he died, protecting the two of you, his family wanted nothing to do with him.”

“Poor Max. He was such a good sweet guy. What we were, or not completely, never mattered to him.”

I placed the small flower arrangement into the vase at his grave.

“I have missed you dear friend,”

“I’m going to give you some time alone with your sister and friend.”

“You can stay.”

“No, I’ve been with you for an eternity, you have not had any time with her or him since that night. I want you to have some time alone with them. You deserve that.”

“Thank you, Liam.”

Even though the space around her grave was clean, I found myself picking up and pushing the few leaves and debris away to make her area more pristine.

I sat down in the grass in front of her grave and closed my eyes, letting the emotions of finally being here with her again wash over me.

“Hi Clara. I have missed you so much.”

WIP 4

Chapter 17: Finale Part 4: The Wedding

Series: The Rotten Apple 🍎

The Book: TRH & Beyond

Pairings: Eleanor x Nico (Elle x M!OC) / Liam x Riley

Status: Still in the writing process

Final exams for Liberty had ensured that she wouldn’t be able to come to Greece early to take part in some of the pre-wedding festivities that Elle had planned. Elle felt guilty that Liberty would be missing her graduation from the Crown Academy to come to her wedding; her father had wanted to pull some strings for Liberty, but Elle declined, citing the importance of her education, though she did want her there.

Elle smiled as she panned the camera around the back yard.

"I really wish I was there Ellie."

"I really wish I was there. Libby! Look at you in your cap and gown. Father and I stepped away for a bit to watch the live feed of the baccalaureate."

"Thanks Ellie."

"For what?"

"Just making an effort. I can't wait to see you and everyone."

“Does that include Michail? He looked so sad when I told him you would not be here tonight.”

A slow smile crept over Liberty’s face.

“He looks sad?”

Elle laughed, “You’re clearly not about that.”

“Did he dance with any other girls?”

“Just one.”

“Who?”

Elle’s smile widened.

“Only me, when he could pull me away from Nico, all he talked about was you. He really likes you Libby.”

“You think so?”

“I know so, and he can’t wait to see you tomorrow and neither can I.”

“Neither can I!”

#bebepac writes #choices fanfiction #trr fanfic #trr fandom #liam x riley #the rotten apple #the life of riley #choices fic writers creations #six sentence sunday #elle x nico #the vampires live on #Riley goes to cordonia

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yetanothergreyjedi · 1 year

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Ghosts of Our Past: pt 11

DP x DC crossover

Danny Fenton and Damian Wayne sibling AU

Ao3

Masterpost Prev Next

It's Wednesday my dudes, here you go

---

Constantine: Ya better not be asking because the pajama party managed to both find one and piss it off.

Batman: That is not the situation.

Constantine: Can you leave it alone? If yes: do that!

Batman: I am simply asking for information.

---

"Coffee buddy!" Danny called as Tim (or did he prefer Drake? He'd heard him called both so maybe it was just whatever?) walked into the cave shortly after Alfred. Who was liminal but in a weird way... Danny was guessing he was just your standard immortal. Anyway! Tim looked like he hadn’t slept in the time between now and when Danny had last seen him.

"Coffee buddy!" Tim shouted, as dramatically as he did, then in more of a whisper, "You have to help me! Alfred has cut me off!"

Danny glanced at Alfred, who had definitely heard him. Nope! Not worth the risk! "I can guess why. I might be half dead, but at least I don't look it,"

Everyone tensed at the joke, the opposite of what Danny had been going for. Scratch that, everyone but Jason tensed. Jason let out a snort. "They don't think those jokes are funny,"

Danny pouted almost as much as Tim.

---

Jazz chose boots instead of heels. Armored HAZMAT instead of a blazer. Hair pulled tightly back instead of free and unthreatening. If her roommate was still awake, she'd probably mistake her for an intruder, but she was not, and Jazz was gone before that could change. Gotham was over a days drive away— but only if she insisted on obeying physics.

---

Danny had waited until later in the night to tell Damian "We should talk." And had Damian stiffened but agreed. Because of the lateness someone suggested that Damian guide his brother back to the hotel. While, again, Damian agreed, the tension did not lift. They moved silently until he couldn’t stand it anymore.

"I'm sorry." Danny "I should've come back for you, I was a coward, probably still am, but—"

"No— you’re not— Stop apologizing! I should be apologizing!"

The air was a swirl of bitter flavors, Danny gave a nervous laugh before starting. "It's fine— I mean, it's really not, but we were little kids and like, super brainwashed. So it's not purely your fault... I mean I don't blame you for it... anymore..."

"Just like that?" Damian's voice was small. Doubt was sour like inedible berries, honey sweet hope did little to balance it.

Danny sighed, "Dami, I've spent the last seven years trying to sort this out in my head. It's not 'just' like anything."

He turned around, his back to Damian as he climbed. "Like this, it freaks me out, and at first I thought you'd been hunting me, but you weren't and intentions matter."

Like all the ghosts who'd been teaching him how to ghost by lightly punting him, or his parents before the ectouranium incident. Damian had waited a moment before following him, putting enough distance between them that Danny didn't feel like his heart was going to leave his chest. Even if Danny wasn't actually that worried about being stabbed, he would be fine, he wouldn't even bleed if he didn't want to. Trauma was dumb like that though, and he appreciated Damian's patience.

His younger brother pulled himself up after him. "But I did. I meant to."

Guilt was another flavor Danny couldn't describe with human terms, but this specific guilt satisfied something entirely in-human inside him, a part that still hadn't let this death go. "And you did. But would you do it again?"

"No!"

"Then we're cool about that."

"And about you remaining hidden." Damian adds. "I would not have responded the same if you had returned to Nanda Parbat..."

"But you got out," Danny marveled. "I hadn't let myself hope, Dami... I'm so proud of you,"

Damian sniffled, and Danny pulled the younger boy into his arms.

---

Back in the cave, Bruce moved to the comms control panel, and silently hit mute. They didn't need anyone else listening in on this.

The league communicator buzzed.

Constantine: And you're sure it's a Doorway Spirit, not just a Barrier Spirit?

Batman: He said Doorway.

Constantine: Who said it?! Bats if someone is fucking around with one, ya lead with that!

---

Cleaning tears out of domino masks wasn't hard, but it did make one feel foolish. Danny seemed way too amused but the fact.

"They're designed to keep outside contaminants out. The usual amount of tears is minimal." Damian pointed out.

"It still seems dumb." Danny finished wiping his on the hem of his shirt. At least they both had hoods, otherwise they'd have to find a more secure location with fuzzy lenses.

"It is certainly an oversight." Damian agreed.

"Makes sense tho?"

"What does?"

"If you're having a crisis in the mask you probably should go home. And if you can't see, then it's gonna be hard to keep working."

"Sometimes we are still needed. It is something to improve."

Danny paused, mask still in hand. He looked Damian in the eye. "Even with all of you? It gets that bad?"

"There are times, it's not— Danny..." Damian took a step back.

"Is everything... oh, it's my eyes again isn't it." Danny flushed, and his eyes returned to blue. "That's just something that happens with me, it's not a sign I'm about to go all murdery or something."

Damian nodded slowly, Danny certainly seemed in control of himself, and earlier with Todd he'd focused on defense. That did not seem like someone under the influence of pit rage.

"I've got it on the list of 'things I need to explain at some point,'"

"You have a list."

"Yeah, I have a list, my life is weird. You should probably have a list too."

"I do not."

"I'm sorry?! Do you think I missed the Bat cave dinosaur?!"

---

Batman: Constantine. What do you know?

Constantine: for certain? Almost nothing. These guys are rare, and powerful.

---

"Why is there a magazine butt plate catch?" Jason asked, completely serious. Tim was too sleep deprived to not giggle.

"Replacement." Jason chided, almost sounding fond... Tim must be getting slap happy. Jason held up the offending piece of metal. "Where did this come from?"

"Probably from when Danny took apart the gun,"

"What?"

Tim was already pulling up the mask footage. They watched the two minute explanation, then, gun bits on the pavement.

"He didn't even look at it..." Tim realized, considering that the part on the table wasn't that easy to remove. He was also 90% sure you needed tools to take a gun apart that completely.

"You know what, that tracks." Jacen said, like he was aware of something Tim was not.

---

Batman: Do you want to have this conversation in person?

Constantine: *Read 1:46 AM*

---

"So... Do you play Doomed?"

"Tt, Of course,"

"Oh, so you're good at it." Danny inferred, hopping down onto the fire escape.

Damian followed, noting how the metal had been silent for Danny, but made a soft clank when Damian stepped. The more Danny relaxed the more effort Damian had to put into tracking his movements. "Of course,"

Danny made a mock-offended gasp, "You're just saying of course to be annoying!"

Damian hadn't been, he had been distracted by the almost unnatural stealth. However he did not say this. He gave a sly smile. "Of course,"

"Well then, I don't suppose you'd want to come in and meet my friends?"

The game had been a trap. Damian was not going to admit defeat so easily... and well, he did want to meet the people his brother chose to occupy his time with. "Of course."

Danny beamed as he led Damian to the hallway window. He pulled it open in a too-smooth way and Damian knew that opening windows from the outside did not work like that. It did not, however, even surprise him at this point.

"They're going to love you," Danny said, right before pain exploded in the back of Damian's head. Then, the world went black.

I've made an executive decision that nights in Gotham are longer than nights in nearby locations. Most people won't notice or will think it's their imagination, Amity kids noticed immediately but shrugged and decided that technically meant they got to sleep in.

I don't think it's actually gonna come up in fic, but like nearly every plot point in Gotham happens at night, and I'm implementing a "magic" system, so Gotham gets quirks.

1. I was gonna have bats find out that Dami did the stab here, but then I realized how much potential there was in Danny just casually mentioning it.

2. Danny figures, he told them what he was, so he's done putting a ridiculous amount of effort into being human.

3. Cliffhanger

4. Why does Ao3 add in automatic spacing in the chapter text but not the notes section? It's weirding me out

Tag list:

@spectralstardustandphantomnights @avelnfear @idfk-man10 @blackroserelina @candeartist422 @mur-ururu @luer-mirin @insufferablecatenthusiast @skulld3mort-1fan @alonedustspeck @voidbornposts @meira-3919 @marshmello @aethernorwood @mimilikey @undead-essence @cloudminder @markus209 @everything163 @latheevening226 @roman4517 @moobloomrights @battybatbat @lumosfeather18581 @werv @ahyesanerd @pyramaniac @lexdamo @princessbelix @bun-fish @deeannthepan @edgyboi10000 @thatrandomsarahchick @busterkeel @aconitewolfsbane @spoopyspoony @bright-shade @spidey29phangirl @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @keimiwolf @u-a-wizard-jamie @gay-puff @bicerise @itshype @blackfoxsposts @icanneverdecide @lolottes @chubbypotato @jovialherringtacoghost @saltyladynightmare

#dp x dc fanfic #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #ghosts of our past #grey writes

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quillsareswords · 1 year

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hii, for #QFWW could you do a romantic ghost hunting with the demonologist!reader and damian bc i miss those freaks

A/N: thank you sm for requesting them I love them so fucking much

WARNINGS: language, ghost, mentions of eating/drinking

MASTER LIST in BIO

"You can hold my hand if you get scared."

Damian snorts. "You watched me punch an eight foot lizard monster in the face on Friday night. I think I'll be alright." He accepts the maglight you hold out and shoves it into the backpack you handed him first.

You bend at the waist and dive back into your arsenal-slash-trunk of your car. It's a glorified pile of miscellaneous weapons, tools, and occult paraphernalia, and he has no idea how you find anything as quickly as you do.

"Okay, firstly," you start, rifling through another bag you've dredged up from the back, "Croc is nine feet tall. Easy. Secondly, you screamed like a nine year old when we watched Insidious." You produce an unopened canister of iodized salt and blindly extend it toward him.

He drops it into the bag with a scowl. "Okay, fine, he's technically eight and a half. And I did not scream."

You turn over your shoulder with raised eyebrows. "Oh? No? Timestamp forty-six minutes, five seconds. The Red Faced Demon is standing behind the husband–"

"It was the sound effects–"

"–in seven years I have never heard you make that noise–"

"If you wouldn't have cranked the volume up–"

"–you made me stop the movie–"

"Okay! Yes, I was startled. It was a jumpscare. And I live with someone who fights them for a living—I'm one of the few people to watch that movie and actually know how dangerous a demon attachment can be." He huffs.

You roll your eyes, but you go back to digging around your stash. "I didn't scream. Do you want a knife?"

"You summon a few to play poker bi-weekly. And yes."

You slide a bowie knife into the sheath on the back of your belt, pull out another, and stand up and slam your trunk closed. You trade him the knife for the backpack. "Constantine plays poker, I play Uno. I hate poker."

He looks down at the knife in his hand, weighs it absently. He's seen it around before, somewhere in your office, maybe in your glove box, probably on the floor at some point. "Of course you do."

You sling your bag over your shoulder and grab the bolt cutters from the roof of the car.

He cocks an eyebrow and follows you toward the door. "I thought you said we had permission to be here? Why do you need those?"

"We do," you assure him. "The owner paid me to come. He wants me to prove it's haunted so he can rent it out to shows and internet personalities." You lead him around the front of the building, out of the last strips of dusk and into the shadow the beast of brick casts. "Unfortunately, he couldn't fine the key to the chain on the door, so, you know. Bolt cutters."

There's another door waiting for you between some overgrown hedges. He focuses mostly on his footing and allows your footsteps ahead to guide him. Between the debris and the vanishing concrete, it'd be too easy to trip.

You clip the blades onto one link of the chain looped through the door handles and start squeezing. He stands at your back, subconsciously keeping watch while you're busy. The chain hits the cement, and you wedge the blades between the doors to help wrench them open.

The interior is in much better shape than the exterior. Where outside, it's easy to see that all four stories of the office has been empty for several years, inside, the only thing to suggest its vacancy is the film of dust covering everything and the lack of electricity.

You pull the first maglight put and click it on while Damian hauls the door mostly shut. The side entrance opens into a hallway that probably leads back around to the front door and the security desk.

Damian's tiny flashlight beams cleaner and whiter beside yours, skimming down the doors lining the corridor. "What are we looking for, again?"

"We hate-watch Ghost Adventures; it's just like that but without Zac fuckface Bagans. And, you know. We aren’t huge babies and this isn’t staged.”

“Of course not. You’d never be satisfied with a safe, staged film set.”

You nudge a door open and shine your light inside. An empty room with one, very depressing desk. “No, absolutely not. I had to go and solve a paranormal murder at age twelve and here we are.”

He chuckles.

The first floor is as barren as it can be. It looks like it was cleaned out pretty efficiently when the doors finally closed. The only interesting thing to be found is a heavy pen with the name of some paper company printed in sharp gold letters. The second floor is more of the same, save for a conference room with a projector and screen left behind. Damian talks you out of going back to the car for your computer to find out if it works.

“If we don’t see an activity up here, I’ll just run through the next two with the K2 and call it.” You use your shoulder to convince the stair access to the third floor to open. “If it spikes, I’ll just send Jerry over tomorrow or something.” It squeals open easily once the latch is unstuck.

He follows you into the main room. There are still some desks scattered around, and one of the fluorescent light covers is hanging open from the ceiling. “This entire endeavor seemed like more of an assistant’s errand. Why didn’t you send him to begin with?”

There’s no bite to the question. He’s not accusing you or insinuating anything–he’s just curious. You look away guiltily anyway, because in your mind, you hear, why, this week of all weeks, did you have to do this?

Valentine’s Day is only in a few days, and he blocked out almost his whole week to spend with you. You’d try to do the same, bumping clients around and turning phone calls into emails until you were nearly free. Unfortunately, it’s just not enough. You’ve had somewhere to be every day. He claims he isn’t irritated, that he understands, but you know it isn’t fair.

“I wasn’t sure if the place was haunted or not, and Jerry hasn’t exactly gotten the whole some spirits want to eat your eyeballs thing through his head yet. I didn’t want to risk him coming face to face with a poltergeist without me around,” you explain, the beam of your light sweeping across the personal offices on the farthest wall. “I’m sorry, again.”

He nudges an old, empty file box with his shoe. “For what?”

You sneak a glance over your shoulder at him as he wanders toward an alcove boxed in by an extra wall. “I feel bad I had to work, I guess. I know you’d rather be at home, enjoying your time off for once.” You move forward, checking between the abandoned desks for any crouching figures or lucky finds. “You really didn’t have to come.”

You can hear him turning around, and the beam of his light reaches toward your feet. “I wanted to come,” he corrects you quickly. “And you don’t have to apologize, my love. You made as much time as you could. I know your career isn’t exactly the most forgiving. Speaking from experience.”

You snort. “Well, sure, but–”

“Don’t. How many dates or events have I missed?” His long legs carry him across the room a little quicker than you anticipate. “We’ve been able to spend more time together in the last few days than we have in weeks. I’m more than content with that.” His palm is warm, flattened in the small of your back. “Besides, I enjoy accompanying you. Especially when there aren’t any demons flying around swinging swords or firing flaming arrows at us.”

“Don’t jinx it, you ass,” you swat jokingly at him with a smile. “But thank you. I like it when you come with me. Makes it a lot less boring," you chuckle. "And–"

Bang!

You whip around toward the sound, dominant hand curling around the handle of your knife while your light finds the source.

Nothing's seems to have been touched except for–

"The stairs," Damian whispers. Sure enough, the door you just had to ram open is now firmly closed.

You take a step closer to Damian. "Somebody there?" you call. You trade your grip on your knife to unclip the K2 meter from your belt. It ticks quietly at the lowest level.

You didn't feel any wind that might've closed it. You don't smell sulfur or smoke. The air still feels light, if dusty, and not as oppressive as the atmosphere would be with something evil in the building. You aren't necessarily surprised by that, though. The buildings history was clean as a whistle when you looked into it—which was surprising, considering it stands in Gotham City, murder capital of the world.

By process of elimination and lack of evidence, you're confident that any entity living here is probably a human spirit that's either wandering in from the metaphorical street, or someone who worked here for so long that it was more familiar than home was when they died.

There's always a chance you're wrong, though. Definitely wouldn't be the first time.

Beside you, Damian is keeping an eye on the rest of the room so you can focus on your senses. You're better at picking up on things than he is in these situations.

"If you want to talk, we'd really like to hear what you've got to say," you announce. "Might even be able to offer you something."

The meter ticks up a level. You slowly move it side-to-side, checking for an environmental interference. It stays steady.

"Do you think you can talk to me? That door was really heavy, and you closed it by yourself, so you must be pretty strong."

Damian bumps his elbow into yours. You turn to see him, hoping you aren't about to find something that will haunt your dreams for the next few months. He points his flashlight at a puddle of papers on the floor between two desks. The edges of two of them are lifting and falling like they're being caught by a breeze. There aren't any open windows, no holes in the ceiling. None of the other papers move.

You bump his shoulder and smile proudly. "Okay, I'll tell you what." You sling your backpack on top of one of the empty desks and jerk the zipper open. You dig past the short-nose shotgun with its rock salt rounds, the box of banishing bullets, your demonic identifier keys. Out comes the spirit box. "I'm gonna set this on the table and turn it on. It's gonna flip through a ton of radio stations really fast. You just need to focus on the word you want to say, and the radio will say it for you."

Damian watches you set it out on the table. His eyebrows furrow. It looks…familiar. "Is that the old police scanner from the Cave?"

You pause. You look over at him sheepishly. "Tim said I could have it. He helped me rework it."

He closes his eyes. "You took a four thousand dollar piece of equipment that could scan any radio frequency in a twenty mile radius and made it into a ghost translator?"

You pull out the antenna and shrug. "Technically, your brother made it into a ghost translator. And it's called a spirit box, thank you very much." You flick the switch for emphasis.

It crackles static for a moment, sputters broken words from different shows and songs, and then some talk show somewhere says, "Asshole," clear as a bell.

You burst into laughter. Damian's eyes narrow. "Even the ghost thinks you're a dick," you wheeze. A woman's laughter coughs through the continuous static.

"Don't you have a proposition for it, oh great and powerful sorcerer?" He rolls his eyes.

"She," the radio corrects.

You get a grip on your composure, tucking away comments you're definitely going to make about this later. Damian Wayne, trans-dimensional asshole. Damian Wayne: even the afterlife hates him! You fake wiping a tear away just to annoy him a little more.

"Yeah, actually, I do." You straighten yourself back out. "I'm gonna talk to the box since I don't know where you are, okay?"

"Sure."

Damian leans against the desk behind the one you're using, just within your line of sight. He's naturally very quiet, and he knows it makes you uneasy when you don't know exactly where he is in places like this.

"Great. Well, we should start by introducing ourselves." You give it your nickname freely (you never use your real name—something about how names have powers and a bunch of other magical nonsense that went over his head. He gets the gist, at least. She tells you her name is Bethany. "Well, Bethany, it's nice to meet you. Do another spirits live here?"

"A few," she crackles. "They're—nice."

You explain the situation to her and trust that she'll relay the information on to the others. You tell her about the landlord wanting to rent the place out, that he'd be willing to trade favors for a good show. Things like leaving a television or two on to chase off the boredom of being stuck in an office building as a weak human spirit. She thinks it's funny, but she likes the idea. She tells you that she used to watch ghost hunting shows all the time when she was alive.

Damian keeps an eye out for any other activity, but for the most part, he just wants to watch you. You sit on the desk with the box, negotiating casually with a dead woman like it's just some other Sunday night.

He knows better. As sick of your career as you get some days, for as many problems it's caused you over the years, despite all the things it's taken from you and held you back from—you love these parts. Even though this is just another Sunday night for you, you're still fascinated by the afterlife, by how thin the veil between worlds is.

It's what you were born to do. You're in your element in this empty building, laughing at a bad joke told by someone you can't see. This is your purpose. Bridging the wide gap between the living and the dead; protecting people from things they never even knew existed.

Your job is trying at best, for both of you. It strains your relationship at times, just the same as his heroic duties. His opinion of your work is best described as a love-hate relationship. He hates it for what it does to you, for the trials it puts you through; but he loves it for what it does for you, the purpose it gives you.

His opinion doesn't matter there, though. It's your passion, and he'll support you in that until the day finally comes that you turn your back on it. He'll be here to pick you up when it knocks you down. He'll be waiting at home when you drag yourself through the door. He'll go ghost hunting with you for Valentine's Day.

"Hey, Dams?"

"Hm? Yes?"

You're already looking at him, gently packing the spirit box back into your bag. "Ready to go?"

"Of course." He picks himself up from the desk and waits for you to reach him. "Does this mean we're going home?"

You fall in step with him back toward the stairs. Hopefully the door wasn't jammed by your new friend. "Oh, I don't know. I thought we might stop for food. Usually we're covered in dirt or worse when we finish up, but we're clean this time. Might as well take advantage of it."

He grabs the door's handle and yanks it open for you with relative ease. "What did you have in mind, Love?"

You cock a shoulder. "Insomnia Cookies is open. That tea house on Ballet Street is, too. I don't care, you pick. My treat." You step out to the stairs.

He follows you with a scoff. "That's hilarious. I pay."

You chuckle, "Sweetheart, you just helped me make two grand. I'm paying."

You stop abruptly, turn, grab him by the collar, and pull him down to meet you halfway. You kiss him there, on the stairs of an abandoned office building, where three or more ghosts are probably watching. "Happy Valentine's Day, by the way."

#damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne imagine #quillsfebuarywritingweek #qfww #quills swords and spells

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angelasscribbles · 2 years

Text

Savage Love Chapter 19: Revelations

Series: Savage Love

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings: Riley x Liam, Riley x Drake

Rating: R

Warnings: Mature themes

Word Count: 4,118

My other stuff: Master List.

I sent a quick text ahead from the car as we pulled back onto palace property.

Drake was already in my room when I got there. He gave me a teasing smile as he turned away from the desk where he had just dropped the file folder of information I’d asked Leo for. “Hey Brooks. You know you don’t have to make up reasons to get me to come your room, right?”

“Put a leash on that ego, Captain. I have an actual issue that I need your help with, and I need you to keep it between us. Can you do that?”

He grew serious as he crossed his arms over his broad chest. Not that I was looking at his chest. Ok, I was totally looking, but that’s not the point. With a slight frown, he replied, “Are you asking if you can trust me?”

“Can I?”

There was a slow blink before he responded, “I’m a little offended that you even have to ask, to be honest.”

“Listen,” I told him as I removed the necklace with the hidden necklace and held it out to him, “There’s footage on there that I don’t want Leo or Liam to see…not yet anyway.”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise, “Why?”

I sighed and motioned for him to sit. We both perched on the edge of my bed, even though there were plenty of chairs. I quickly filled him in on the secret heir conversation. When I finished, I drew in a deep breath and asked, “Well? What do you think? Is there any possibility this is real?”

“I….don’t know.” Drake ran a hand through his hair.

“If it’s even possible, where would we start looking?”

“I have an idea.”

Fifteen minutes of following Drake through the secret passageways later, I found myself in a small, tidy office. Eleanor’s. It looked like they were expecting her back at any moment. And it was pristinely clean. “Wow. It looks like she’s still using it!”

“I know.” Drake affirmed, “I guess Constantine didn’t have the heart to throw her things out, neither did Liam or Leo for that matter. There are so many rooms in this place, it’s not like it was needed for anything else.”

“The staff just keeps cleaning it?”

He looked up from the desk calendar he’d been gazing at in surprise, “Of course. They clean every room in this palace, at least weekly, used or not. Constantine can’t stand dust.”

“Ok, then.” I breathed out. The king was a neat freak.

“I’m not sure what we’re going to find. I’m positive that Constantine, Leo and Liam all went through her things after her death.”

“Yes. But then, they weren’t looking for hidden documents.” I answered.

“True. Ok, you start over here,” He tapped the top of the desk, “And I’ll start over there.” He gestured to the bookshelves lining the far wall.

Two hours later I was ready to call it a night when we hit pay dirt.

It was the third time I’d searched the desk. One of the drawers had a false bottom. In it was a thin, paper day minder. For the same year as the desk calendar and day minder left out on the desk. Inside were multiple days marked only as “Dr. Apt.”, flipping backwards I found other markings.

“What do you think those mean?” Drake asked, his breath ticking the side of my face as he leaned over my shoulder to point at them.

“Oh, I know exactly what those mean.” I told him, “See how these little stars have a fairly predictable pattern? Three to five days are starred, every four to five weeks?”

“Yeah…”

“She was tracking her period, then see here? No stars… then a few weeks later the doctor’s appointments start.” I told him excitedly, “This is proof that she was pregnant!”

“I mean, maybe, what if-“

“Drake.” I cut him off as I flipped forward through the pages again until I found what I was looking for. I jabbed my finger triumphantly at the page “There!”

He craned his head to read over my shoulder again, his eyes following my finger. He sucked in a sharp breath when he saw what I was pointing at. It was just one word. “Due.”

“When did she leave, and return, from that last trip?” I asked.

“She left four months before that due date, and returned about six weeks after.” He did some quick math in his head, “Could she have hidden a pregnancy for five months?”

“Absolutely!” I confirmed, “Especially during winter months when she would have been wearing heavier clothes anyway.”

“But…why would they have hidden it from the public? From their sons?” Drake asked, “It doesn’t make sense.”

“I don’t know.” I answered, “But didn’t you say that last trip was to Auvernall, to visit her family?”

“Yes.”

“So, is it possible she had the baby there and left it?”

“I mean….maybe…but why would she do that?” Drake asked.

“Again, I don’t know but…” I trailed off as a thought occurred to me.

“What?”

“What if…I mean…are we sure Constantine knew?”

“Why wouldn’t he have known?”

“Drake….”

He blinked at me for a few long moments before understanding dawned on him, “You think the baby wasn’t his.”

I shrugged, “If he didn’t know about the pregnancy, it would explain why he never told anyone, why he didn’t bring the child back after it was born…unless the baby didn’t survive?”

“That’s….this is a lot.”

“I know.” I agreed as I replaced the desk drawer, false bottom and all. I kept the day minder. “I’m exhausted. Can we just go back to my room and sleep? We can deal with this in the morning.”

His face registered surprise, as he asked, “You want me to sleep with you?”

I was confused by his reaction, “What’s so shocking about that? We’ve slept together more nights than we haven’t since we met.”

He held my gaze for a moment, a flush creeping up his neck, before looking away and saying, “Yeah, because we fall asleep after sex. But if I’m not mistaken, you just asked me back to your room just to sleep.”

My sleep deprived brain could not deal with the differences he was trying to draw just then. I sighed as I rubbed my eyes, “If you don’t want to-“

His head snapped around to catch my gaze again as a Texas sized grin lit up his face, “Oh, I want to, Brooks, I want to.”

“Ok. Could you not make a big deal out of it? Please?”

He held his arms out wide, “Who’s making a big deal out of it? Maybe I’m just looking forward to the morning sex.”

I couldn’t help the laugh that tumbled out of my mouth at that. I shook my head and said, “You are incorrigible Captain. Now, let’s go get some sleep.”

The next morning……….

Olivia was seated at the table next to Leo when we entered the room.

“Hello, Olivia. I’m surprised to see you here.” I looked at Leo for an explanation.

“The Via Imperii reached out to her yesterday.”

“Yesterday while I was gone?”

“Before, but yes, you were gone by the time she got to me to tell me.”

I nodded. That might explain why Godfrey and Emmeline were late. Or Madeleine. One or two or all of them could have been corresponding with Olivia.

“How did they reach out?”

“Email, same as me.” Leo replied.

“And?”

“And?” Olivia gave me a withering look, “I told them to go to hell!”

“I know.” I nodded with a sigh, “I really wish you hadn’t. We could have used you to string them along-“

“Absolutely not!” Leo said with finality, “I will not put her in the line of fire. Not for any reason.”

“Ok, then. Doesn’t matter now anyway. Since she’s here, is it safe to assume you’ve brought her up to speed about who I really am and why I’m here?”

“Yes.”

“So, you trust her?”

“I trust her.”

“So do I but-

“But?”

I turned to address her directly, “I still have to ask this next question. I wouldn’t be doing my due diligence if I didn’t.”

“Okay…” Liv arched an eyebrow at me as she waited, her foot tapping impatiently against the metal leg of the chair.

“Are you aware that your aunt’s estate is being used for Via Imperii meetings?”

She froze, shock clearly etched on her features. It took her only a fraction of a second to compose herself and tell me coolly, “No. I haven’t spoken to her in almost two years. We’re not close.”

I hesitated as I glanced around the room. In addition to Leo, Liv and Liam, Drake and myself, Jared, Maxwell and Jason were present. “So, are we talking freely in front of Duchess Olivia?”

Leo inclined his head, “Yes. She’s going to be queen; she needs to be apprised of these things.”

I wondered if he’d apprised her of her parents’ role in Operation Snow spear, a failed coup that was the real reason for their demise. Not a car accident as she, and the rest of the world, had been led to believe. But that wasn’t my business, not at the moment anyway.

I nodded, “I believe you’re in danger, or you will be once you choose Olivia as your queen.”

Leo’s eyes cut to Liv’s, as he leaned back in his chair, tented his fingers and motioned for me to continue, “Explain.”

I took a seat at the table and launched into the whole story of what I’d learned and who I’d seen at the meeting the night before, leaving out only the part about the potential lost heir. He needed to know; Liam needed to know but first things first.

I ended with, “And if none of that works, they plan to remove you from power.”

“How do they plan to do that?”

“By any means necessary.”

“Shit.” Leo breathed out softly, he glanced at Olivia, then at me and asked, “Then what?”

“Then they start the whole process over with Liam.”

Liam sat up straighter, “Fuck. What do we do?”

“We stay the course.” I told him, “Right now, they think Leo is equally likely to choose Madeleine or myself. As long as they believe that, they aren’t going to make a move.”

“We just have to bring them down before the coronation.” Jared said.

Leo’s jaw set as he reached for Olivia’s hand, “I’m assigning a security detail to you.”

“Just continue to play up the Madeleine and I being front runners angel, that should keep them backed off for now.” I reiterated.

“But the minute I choose her, she becomes a target?”

“You become a target.” I corrected him.

Olivia’s eyes filled with tears, she blinked them away quickly, but I saw them. “I can’t let you put yourself in danger, Leo. You’ll have to choose Madeleine.”

“The hell I will! I’m not giving those bastards what they want!”

“We still have time before the social season is over.” I reminded them, “We just need to find out who their leader is and take them down before then.”

“I might have an in.” Jared spoke up, “I’ve put out the word that I’m looking to moonlight, make a little extra money on the side. I have a lead on a couple of opportunities. Hopefully one of them is at Lucretia’s estate.”

“Perfect.” I responded.

Leo started pushing away from the table, “If that’s everything, I really need to-“

“Oh, there is one more thing.”

He lowered himself back into his chair with a sigh as he rubbed his temples, “Of course there is. What is it, double oh seven?”

I glanced up at Drake then over to Liam then back to Leo as I gathered my thoughts. Drake pulled out the chair next to me and dropped into it. He nodded encouragingly at me.

“Fuck, I don’t know how to say this, so I’ll just say it. Liam, Leo, you might have another sibling out there somewhere.”

“What?” Both men said in unison.

I explained everything and showed them the day minder we’d found.

“I…I can’t believe this. It’s crazy, isn’t it?” Liam blinked at me, wide eyed in shock.

I reached across the table and took his hand, “I know it’s a lot to process and we can’t be sure I’m right but to me, this is very strong evidence, and my gut tells me there’s something to it.”

“We have to follow up.” Leo decided, “One way or the other, Li and I need to know the truth.”

An hour later we had a plan for how to proceed with the investigation. Not just for Leo and Liam’s piece of mind, but for the safety of the missing heir. If one did exist, we had to get to them before the Via Imperii did.

That night……

A hesitant knock sounded on my door. I wasn’t expecting anyone, and Drake would have used the secret passageways.

I pulled out my phone and swiped open the feed from the camera outside my door. Tariq Lambros stood in the hallway, fidgeting nervously. Why the hell did he have one hand behind his back? I fired off two texts in rapid succession, double checked my weapon then cracked the door open.

“Ah…uh…Lady Riley, good evening. Sorry to show up with no notice, but uh….” He glanced up and down the hallway, his body thrumming with agitation. He was clearly rattled by something, “May I come in?”

“Lord Lambros, it’s late. I was about to go to bed. Besides, how would it look if one of the prince’s suitors let another man into her private bedchamber late at night? It could cause a scandal, get me kicked out of the social season and sent home in disgrace. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”

“No…I….” He glanced up and down the hallway again, “Please, you don’t understand! This is important! I need to-“

“Come by in the morning.” I started to shut the door.

His foot shot out to stop the door from closing, then his body slammed into it, forcing it, and me, back as he barreled his way into my room. He kicked the door shut behind him as he glowered at me. “You’re making this more difficult than it has to be!”

“Making what more difficult?” I asked as I took several steps back, moving myself away from him while keeping my eyes glued on him.

“You’re coming with me!” He snarled as he brandished a dagger.

So that’s what he’d been hiding behind his back. I almost laughed.

“Yeah, no, I don’t think so. But just out of curiosity, where, exactly, do you think we’re going?”

“I have a car waiting out front. Your old friend Rico wants to see you.”

My eyes widened, “What?”

Tariq smirked, “You heard me.”

I did laugh then.

He faltered, looked confused, “This isn’t funny! Why are you laughing?”

“Because I’m not going anywhere with you.” I told him calmly as I reached for my firearm.

He lunged at me before I was able to draw. Alright. If it was hand to hand combat he wanted, it was hand to hand combat he’d get.

His arms went around me, and we both stumbled backwards. His grip wasn’t tight enough, I brought my arms up between his and used them to knock his away from my body, then I grabbed his wrist and twisted, sending the dagger skittering across the floor. I pulled hard on his arm, forcing it back and behind him, then used that leverage to force him into a bending position so I could deliver a forceful blow to his back with my elbow. I put my entire body weight into it.

He dropped the ground, groaning in pain just as Drake burst through the secret panel and Jared burst through the door.

“Brooks!”

“Riley!”

“Nice of you both to finally show up.” I greeted, “But I have it under control.”

Then Jared made a rookie mistake. He stepped closer to me to ask if I was ok, without keeping his eyes on the man on the floor. Getting closer to me meant getting closer to Tariq. Yes, I’d put him down, but he wasn’t out.

“Jared!” I yelled as I saw Tariq’s hand move.

There was a flash of silver and a yelp of pain then Tariq was up and sprinting for the door while Jared dropped to the ground, holding his ankle as blood spurted from it.

Drake darted across the room and out the door, leaping over Jared as he went.

I quickly applied pressure to Jared’s wound as I told him, “You might need a doctor.”

I got the bleeding staunched and tied a makeshift tourniquet around it. I helped him up off the floor and into a nearby chair. I opened my phone and tried calling Leo. It went to voicemail, so I called Liam. He answered right away.

“Riley?”

“Liam, is there a doctor in residence? Jared’s been wounded. We’re in my room.”

“We have a doctor in residence, I’ll send her down. I’m coming too. Are you ok?”

“I’m fine, you don’t have to-“

“Nonsense! I’m on my way.” He clicked the phone off and I tossed mine down with a sigh.

“You really do collect men everywhere you go.” Jared grunted out a laugh then winched in pain.

“That’s what you want to focus right now?” I asked him with a sardonic grin.

Drake came back in the room, panting from exertion, “I chased him, but the motherfucker gave me the slip somehow!”

“It’s ok, Walker.”

“I’ll issue a bolo.”

“You can if you want.” I said, “But it’s probably too late.”

“What do you mean? He can’t have gotten very far, he’s not that bright or resourceful.”

“That’s not what I meant. He just failed the Mendez cartel, he’s as good as dead already.”

Jared’s head snapped up, “The Mendez cartel? What the fuck, Brooks? I thought we took them down.”

“So did I. Rico is supposed to be in federal custody, in a supermax.”

“If he was released, or escaped and he knows you were the one that took him down….”

My jaw set, “I know.”

“What’s going on?” Drake asked in alarm, his gaze shifting between Jared and I.

“Riley! Drake! What happened?” Liam burst through the door to my room with a middle aged woman in tow.

The woman was carrying a medical bag, “I’m Dr. Russo, what happened here?”

“Riley was attacked-“ Drake started.

I interrupted, “But Jared is the one that got hurt, he’s bleeding.”

“Attacked? By who?” Liam spluttered.

Drake’s face tightened, “Tariq Lambros.”

“What?” Liam squeaked, “That makes no sense! He wouldn’t hurt a fly! Not normally anyway. What the hell is going on?”

“I have no idea, but I’m going to find the fuck out.” I told him as I pulled my phone out and dialed Director Barton’s number. I stepped into the bathroom for privacy, I didn’t want to talk too freely in front of the doctor.

“Brooks? What’s going on?”

“Why don’t you tell me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the fact that the Mendez cartel just sent a thug in here to try and kidnap me.”

“What?!”

I quickly filled her in, she was as clueless as I as and twice as irate. She did not like being kept out of the loop.

“I’ll look into this and get back to you, Brooks. I’m so sorry you were caught unaware. Tell Lewis I’ll call him later too.” She disconnected the call.

“Well, doc, how is he?” I asked when I returned to the bedroom.

“We need to get him down to the hospital. His Achilles tendon is cut pretty bad. He’s going to need surgery.”

“Shit.” I breathed. I felt bad for the guy, but he had violated about a half a dozen protocols by stepping that close to a downed perp that hadn’t been properly restrained or checked for consciousness.

When the doctor stepped out of the room to call ahead to the hospital, I turned to Jared, “Agent Lewis, you’ve been on the job long enough to know better than to move in like that before securing the scene.”

He shot me a wounded look, “Well, excuse me, Riley, I mean Agent Brooks, for being concerned about you!”

I softened a little. But only a little, I took his hand and squeezed it, “I appreciate that, Jared, I do. But you and I both know that if you get yourself taken out, you risk your entire team.”

It was true, if Tariq had gotten back up, with a gun, if Drake hadn’t been there, Jared would have been down for the count and unable to help anybody. “Just be more careful next time, ok?”

He glared at me for a moment then relented with a chagrined grimace, “Fuck. You’re right. I’m sorry, I fucked up.”

“It’s ok, happens to the best of us. I’m coming to the hospital with you.”

“No!” All three men yelled at once.

“What the hell?”

“The Mendez cartel is here, Riley, and they’re after you. Now who’s being stupid?” Jared asked.

“The hell you’re leaving the palace until we sweep it and make sure Lambros didn’t have any coconspirators!” Drake told me.

“He’s right, Riley,” Liam joined in, “Please, stay here for tonight, until we get this figured out.”

Everyone was staring at me. I sighed. I was annoyed. They were right and I knew it, but I’m stubborn and I don’t like being told what to do. Someone was gunning for me though and they’d found me, in the palace. Now I was worried about my covering being blown.

“What about you?” I asked Jared.

“I’m not in any danger.” He scoffed, “I wasn’t directly involved in the Mendez case and as far as anyone here knows, I’m just a lowly palace butler who happened to be walking past your room at the right time.”

I nodded, “Ok, fine. But can you send an undercover guard or two with him, just in case?”

“If that’s what it takes to get your stubborn ass to stay here, yes.” Drake agreed as he pulled out his phone.

Two guards showed up to help Jared out to a car with Dr. Russo, leaving me alone in my room with Drake and Liam.

“I’m staying here tonight.” Drake announced.

“What?”

“There’s no way in fucking hell I’m leaving you alone tonight.” He informed me.

Not that having him spend the night was a hardship. He probably would have anyway. That wasn’t the point. I was offended. “Excuse me, but you saw where he was when you got here. On the floor, where I put him. I can take care of myself, Walker.”

His arms folded across his chest and his jaw clenched as his steely gaze bored into me, “Riley….”

I crossed my own arms and returned his glare, “Drake….”

“Ahem.” Liam shifted awkwardly, “Sorry to interrupt whatever, this is….but I think Riley should spend the night in my room tonight.”

I forgot all about being annoyed with Drake as I turned in astonishment to Liam, “What?”

“The family wing is the most secure wing in the palace, you’ll be safter there.” He explained. “And no one would think to look for you in my room.”

“Liam, you’re sweet to worry about me, but I don’t need a babysitter. Tell him, Drake.”

“Drake?” I turned to look at him when he didn’t answer.

He looked like he was fighting an internal battle as a myriad of emotions flitted across his expression. He sighed as he scrubbed a hand down his face and responded, “As loathe as I am to admit it, that actually makes sense. It’s a good idea.”

“Oh, no, I-“

“Listen, Brooks.” Drake interrupted me, “You may be in charge of how we investigate the Via Imperii, but I’m in charge of this palace and everyone in it. Leo assigned me as your liaison with Cordonia and my team is in charge of room assignments for the suitors.”

“So?”

“So, your room assignment has changed. Grab whatever you need for tonight and let’s go. We’re leaving through the secret panel, so no one knows you’re not in here. I’ll send a couple of guards down to hang out in your room. If anyone shows up, they’ll be taken into custody immediately. Let’s go!”

I stared at him for a moment, but I couldn’t argue with his logic, so I packed a few things then followed them both out into the secret passageway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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#angelasscribbles #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week #trr poly #why choose #drake walker #liam rys #captain drake walker #agent riley brooks #the royal romance #choices #intrigue #via imperii #the royal romance fanfic #choices stories you play #play choices #play choices game #choices stories we play #savage love

50 notes · View notes

queenmiarys · 2 years

Text

ENVY MASTER LIST

Song inspiration

@lilyoffandoms@kingliam2019@mom2000aggie@bebepac@honey358luv@angelasscribblesribbleu

@shewillreadyou @luvquit@harlequin@queenrileyrose@yaniradolton @yolandawalker @21-wishes @karahalloway@beaumo

Book: The Royal Romance Pairing: Liam x MC

Summary: This take place 2 years after Liam’s social season with Riley Brooks, Constantine doesn’t have cancer, and the setup neve happened, Liam is on a business trip to New York and meet 24 year old Amelia Ramos and starts a new relationship.

Liam, Drake, Constantine, Maxwell, Bastian, belong to Pixel berry

Amelia Ramos, Jennifer Lawson, Daniel Lawson, Amy Rodriguez belong to me and so do this story.

Warning: contains gun violence, some sexual content, betrayal, no suitable for anyone under 18.

I hope you enjoy please excuse any mistakes or misspelling, any questions you feel free to ask thanks to everyone who reads, comment and like.

ENVY

Chapter: 1 The Perfect Evening

Liam and Mia

Liam sits waiting on his order, “when a beautiful young lady catches his eye, his heart start to race, he gets up and walks over, “ hi I'm Liam I can't help to notice how beautiful you are, can I take you out to dinner sometime?"

Hi Liam it’s nice to meet you, “sure I would love to go out with you, you know most men don’t have the confidence that you do, “ I like it, “ I’m Amelia but everyone calls me Mia, so where are you from?” I think you have a beautiful accent?

He smiles, “ you probably not going to believe me, “ I’m a prince of a small country called Cordonia it’s near Greece.

"I believe you, “ so what brings you all the way to New York?

It’s a business trip, my father supposed to came but he let me come instead.

"I understand, “

"So how long are you in town for? "I’ll be here till Friday, I would love to get to know you better,

“ I would love that but if you're leaving how would that work? I don’t do one night stands.

“I would never ask or want you to, “ before the end of the week we can figure out something, "here’s my number, “ maybe we meet up in about an hour or so?

"yes we're on one hour, " I better get going, “my friends are waiting for me, and don’t stand me up.

"I would never stand you up.

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

Liam, Drake Maxwell

Li what the hell took you so damn long ?"

He looks at Drake and smiles, sorry I'm late guys, here ," I'm not hungry guys I'm going fore a walk.

"Hmm Who did you meet ? "Max asked, you got that look.

What are you talking about?

The same look when you met Blossom."

You're sadly mistaken, he lied “I'm just in a great mood.

He might be on to something, you’re acting strange, “ you know you tell us anything, his eyes go wide, “ I’m sorry I didn’t think, “ but I get it you don’t trust me with what happened with Brooks, “ you have every right not to trust me.

“Drake I forgive you for that, water under the bridge," I'm over Riley and have been for a while now,". If you wanted to rekindle with her “you could there is nothing standing in your way, “ you have my blessing.

"Drake shakes his head, only if it was that easy, she said she loved me but ran to not hurt you," I believe apart of Riley was confused about who or what she wanted, you are like a brother to me I should’ve never went there."

“It's okay Drake, “ you can’t help who you fall in love with, “ I’m glad it happened she wasn’t for me, “I understand now, guys hate to cut this short but I got a few errands to run.

"Okay Li see you when you return.

So that’s not strange to you? He’s hiding something he couldn’t wait to get out of here, he should we follow him.

"Max let that man have his privacy, for God sake he's a grown man," “I’m sure whatever it is, “he’ll tell us when the time is right for him.

Guess your right, hey do you want half of Liam lunch?"

No thanks I know he probably got sushi I hate sushi.

*********

Mia and Jen, Amy

Mia why aren't you eating what happened? And you haven’t stopped smiling since you walked in, “ I assume that you met someone who you must think is special?

“ And would you think such a thing? Why can’t I just be happy?

Hmm I know you’re up to something, I don’t know why you’re hiding it though, “ Amy as usual you don’t say a word, you’ve known her for a good amount of time isn’t she acting unusual?

Jen, that’s her business so I just stay out of it, Jen roll her eyes

I thought we were friends Amy

We are, “ I think when she ready we’ll know.

Guys hello I’m still here

Hmm I know you’re up to something, “might as well spill it.”

My friend I have nothing to tell, “ but I do have some work that need s to be done.

That’s strange you told me you were off today

I am from the office but there are a few things I need get in order for my client, I want them to be happy with my work.

Okay but something or someone else got your attention.

She let a sigh and give her friends a hug, guys I’ll call you all later.

*************""

Liam and Mia

Hi beautiful how was your day besides thinking of kissing me?

She smiles, you're absolutely right I can't stop thinking about you," it's like I've known you all my life I don't usually have a deep connection with a lot of people, "honestly it's hard to have real friends when people find out who my father is, "I mean people have come up with some wild stuff, “ to try to get money from my family,

“Like what?

“Well it was this girl name Katie, *whom I thought we were friends, “ well my stepmom was on a trip, “ I woke up and and Katie wasn’t there, I went looking for her, “ there she was in my father’s bed, I was furious with my father, when he got me calm down, she started talking about she would tell the world he made her sleep with him, then she started showing us pictures on her phone, “ she even took a few naked, She got 40 million and a car.

“ So sorry your family went through that and sorry she wasn’t a real friend, you deserve the world, I want to talk to you, it's something been on my mind, I know we only known each other short time, “ would you come visit me?

How about this I think about and let you know Thursday evening over dinner?

“ it’s definitely a date, if you decide I can 1 send my jet for you.

She smiles, he cuffs her face and kisses her and she returns it.

Oh my I didn’t notice how late it was, “ can you walk me to my apartment.

He smiled sure I would love to, they walked side by side while holding hands, once to the door he give her a kiss and about part way

Wait, would you like to come in

Sure.

***********

Constantine, Bastien

Your majesty he's been with a young lady all day, " they just arrived at a at what look life lofts, I went in, " they have security and a door man, I couldn't follow them

Put an unmarked guard on them, “we know my son has a weakness for American women. “

“yes sir right a away

Check on Miss Brooks, we don’t need her back in my son’s life.

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

Mia, Liam

They walked in the loft, he looked around at how nicely decorated it was, then walked over to the window looking over the busy city blow, this is beautiful and your place looks amazing he smiled."

" Thank you I'm an interior decorator and I take my career very serious, hey would you like something to eat or drink? It's been a while since we ate, I skipped lunch today.

That sounds great, I also skipped lunch I was so excited about this date, do you mind giving me a tour of your place.

Sure follow me, after the tour there was a knock on the door, " Jennifer what are you doing here?

Why are you calling me Jennifer what's wrong?

Nothing wrong I'm just surprised to see you so late, I'm ready tried I just got in can we talk tomorrow?

Mia what's up with you?

Nothing just tried.

I smell cologne who do you have here?

Jennifer can we talk tomorrow please."

Amelia I am not leaving until I meet this mystery man!

Liam come, this is my very nosy friend Jennifer and Jen this is Liam, now can you leave oh my God."

I knew you met someone, your phone go straight to voicemail, you didn't eat and I been by her 3 times checking on you it's 10 pm

She looks down at the ground and sigh, " Jen I'm sorry I lost track of time please forgive me, tomorrow we meet for lunch, she give a hug

She whispered he's handsome in her ear and has a nice body, " I'm going to go I know when I'm not wanted she jokes, nice to meet you Liam enjoy your night she winks. "

He smiles nice to meet you too, have a good night, once the door closes they both laugh

Sorry about that, you relax I'm going get us something to eat, from the kitchen."

That's fine I can't wait to taste your cooking, she walks out 30 minutes later with a plate of chicken Alfredo, Liam taste it, hmm not bad at all wow.

I really hope you like it, " I just threw something that was quick, it's getting late would you stay with me tonight?

Sure, " let me call my friends, pulls out phone dialing Drake number, he picks on first ring. "

where the hell are you Li? Do you know your father had chewed me out , " I know your a grown man but you need to at least tell me so we cover each other, " Con allowed you to take his place only if I agreed to look after you now where are you? "

"Drake I'm safe but I need time to myself tonight, just checking in, " I was just eating something then I will head to bed see you tomorrow, he hangs up.

" If you would like to change my brother has some new boxers and t-shirts in his room and look in hall closet you'll see washcloths, towels and body wash and really whatever you need.

He took his shower, made it back to the room she laying on the bed in a silk turquoise nightgown, he stood there frozen, thinking just how long he been without someone special in his life, he pulled from his thoughts, by hearing Mia call his name

"I'm tired let's go to bed, they got in bed he wrapped his arms around her as she snuggled up against him, she fell asleep, he laid there wondering where this would go, finally one hour later he drifted off to sleep.

#liam rys #drake walker #Maxwell Beaumont #riley brooks #royalty #ENVY #the royal romance #king Constantine #Spotify

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slumberingcorpse · 2 years

Text

Date with Destiny

John Constantine/Bruce Wayne

Part 2

Previous part: Part 1

Another night, another insufferable nightmare. How many more nights will he have to hear his mother’s screams? He couldn’t take it anymore.

Tossing off his sweat-covered sheets and grabbed his coat.

Once again, he took to the London streets. He needed to stay awake. He will stay awake.

Storming into the nearest corner store, Bruce bought every ounce of caffeine he can get his hands on.

“Trying to stop your heart, mate?” The cashier scoffs ringing him up.

“I can only hope...” Bruce grumbles taking his bags and leaving.

His head was throbbing, the streets were too loud, and he reeked of sweat. Yes, maybe a heart attack would be best. At least it would put Bruce out of his misery. He would be with his parents. Then again, if he did end up dying, who would avenge their deaths? What would happen to Alfred?

“Shut up! Why won’t you shut up!?” Bruce shouts slamming his head against his fists. He didn’t care that he looked like a mad man. He wasn’t ready, he didn’t feel ready. The whole weight of Gotham and his family name was upon his shoulders. He’s only one man trying to take on the world, and he’s already losing before he started.

He’s quickly pulled away from his thoughts at the sound of a scuffle in a nearby alleyway.

“Fucking disgusting queer! I’ll do the world a favor by making you disappear!” a bulky man with a shaved head shouts pinning a smaller man against the brick wall. They both dressed similarly in ripped jeans and combat boots but only the bulk man had a leather jacket covered in nazi symbols.

The smaller man struggles against his grip. He was already beaten and bruised up. His shirt was covered in blood and yet he wasn’t backing down. “Go ahead and try you nazi piece of-” he shouts only to be interrupted by a hard punch to the stomach. He falls to his knees coughing and gasping for air only for the bulky man to grab his hair and harshly yank his head back.

“Fucking fag, I’ll cut off your tongue,” the bulky man threatens, pressing his switchblade against the smaller man’s throat.

Something snaps in Bruce. Not again. He won’t stand by and let someone die in front of him again, never again. Gripping his plastic bag tightly, Bruce charges into the alleyway, using his full force to slam the bag against the bulky man’s head.

The bag tears. Tin cans of coffee, black tea, and energy drinks spill out and crash onto the concrete and the switchblade clangs against the ground. Adrenaline was pumping through Bruce’s veins. He was wide awake now. Can’t say the same to the bulky man.

Working quickly, Bruce rushes toward the smaller man leaning towards the wall only to stop in surprise realizing who it was.

John Constantine.

He was out cold and his face was covered in dark ugly bruises, but it was unmistakable. It was him.

Panic fills Bruce as he tries to shake John awake, but he was unresponsive. Could he have been too late?

He shakes away the thought and presses his ear against the blood-covered shirt.

Several painful seconds pass but there it was...

A heartbeat.

#john constantine #constantine #batman #bruce wayne #fanfic #dc comics #fic writing #dc fanfic

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trulycertain · 3 years

Text

small scandals

f!De Sardet/Vasco, 2.5k. One of the most disgustingly fluffy things I've written. Based on the thought that Constantin would totally have opinions on who you romance.

A carriage rattles along the cobbles outside, and she lies there, half-listening to it. The few mornings she can be in her own bed, she’s come to know it; it’s the ten o’clock grain shipment. Ordinarily, she’d already be in a meeting somewhere, or traipsing along a dirt road, perhaps with Kurt and Vasco at her back. But she had a morning free, and this… is not an ordinary morning. She’d been settling in with paperwork and then she’d heard the knock at her door and… well.

She should move. Probably. But her bed is so warm, and – unusually, but in a wonderful development – it contains Vasco.

This really was meant to be a brief assignation. And she was sure they were meant to be talking about… something. Potential routes for tomorrow, perhaps. She has no idea why they’re lying next to each other, words barely thought-out and… comfortable, somehow.

She says with a lazy half-grin, “’Important business with the legate’? Did Cécile actually believe you?” She’d close her eyes, but she likes looking at him too much to manage it for long. Softness suits him. And besides, the thought of him politely tipping his hat and lying to her housekeeper...

He tilts his head, consideringly. “She sent me upstairs.” But his voice is wry.

“Mm. She definitely knows.”

He sighs, that long-suffering thing she’s learned to like far too much, and says, “Try living on a ship.”

“Try living around nobles,” she counters, and laughs at his pained expression. “Exactly.”

He says, quietly, “They can’t all be that bad. Rumour is, there’s one that some Naut captain’s fond of.”

She says, “That legate’s always been an odd one.” But she presses her forehead to his, eyes sliding closed, and she feels his hand stroke through her hair.

The gentleness should surprise her – almost did, at first, coming from the frustrated, tattooed sailor who’d barked orders at his crew – but she realised soon into their acquaintance that he is gentle. Subtle as he tries to be, and much as he’d probably mutter something offhand and drily amused about it. That same sailor was worried for a cabin boy. And he was horrified at the Guard’s ghost camps, asked her to avoid bloodshed at every turn and stepped forward for his brother without a moment’s doubt. He tossed her antidotes in the middle of battle and held off beasts for her; he apologised for his early shortness, called her a good person without hesitation, argued to a Naut that the noble who’d caused him so much trouble was sea-born, and we always help one of our own. She'd dared to suspect, but still, that gentleness was far more than she’d ever have imagined, turned on her.

She’s half-dozing when she wakes up and says, startled, “Constantin." She reaches out of bed and gropes for her watch. "I’ve got a meeting in…” She flips it open, checking. “Ten minutes. Damn.”

A quiet, displeased noise from next to her, and Vasco mutters, “Can I at least get dressed before we have to think of your cousin?”

She pauses, looks back to him… and has some trouble looking away. “Don’t strain yourself on my account.”

He raises a brow, but there’s wryness lurking around the corners of his mouth.

She only smiles at him. She was aiming for lascivious, but it softens into something fonder before she can help it. She probably shouldn’t tell the truth quite so easily, what with being a diplomat, but around him it always slips out. Generally meetings aren’t such a trial, tired as she is - but generally she doesn’t have an unnecessarily handsome Naut stretched out in her bed, wild-haired and with the sunlight clinging to his skin.

She shifts across to kiss him, and for a golden moment, he responds in kind, a hand under her chin.

(She’s still not used to that. It was the sort of idle daydream she always told herself would never come to fruition, even if he was sarcastic in turn, even if he smiled at her and she wondered…)

Then he pulls away. “You should go,” he says. She suspects he's trying for gently chiding, but it lands in amused instead.

“I won’t be long,” she says, and the words come out too hopeful.

It’s not that she expects him to stay like some sort of bedwarmer, she just…

Well, she thinks, considering him again, she wouldn’t entirely mind.

But she knows he’s not made to be idle. Neither is she, normally; it was one of the reasons they understood each other, and one of the things she could tell surprised him at first, when he was used to the thoughtlessness of nobility. And she hadn’t quite meant to lose track of time, she’d just…

“I’ll meet you at the docks,” he says. “I need to check in on a shipment. The Guard are lying in the ledgers again.” He adds, in a mutter, “Not that that’s unusual.”

She nods. “Of course.” And then she drags herself away to hunt for her clothing.

She can feel him watching her; it prickles up her spine, a certain warmth that’s growing familiar. She should probably be more self-conscious. She was often teased about her lack of delicacy, growing up in court. She’s about six feet of lankiness and leg – excellent for her reach with a rapier, but not ideal for a court lady. Also, since she’s come here, new scars, and lean muscle that some would say makes her look like a labourer. But he’s called her beautiful more than once, kissing the word breathlessly into her skin, and somehow, she believes him. She certainly believes the way his eyes linger. She looks over her shoulder and his gaze meets hers, without a hint of shame. Then he rolls out of her bed, too.

She’s buttoning her doublet when she feels his hand against hers. She looks down, and takes her hat from him with a nod of thanks. He half-smiles at her, with the ruefulness that comes from having to snatch these moments while they can, in between governors and dantrigs and narrowly-averted civil wars. She places it on her head, idly watching him re-tie his hair and start to re-don the mantle of the quiet, hawk-eyed shadow at her back.

She tries not to be embarrassed. Neither of them is entirely used to this, not yet. They’ve only managed perhaps three occasions where the world has relented enough to give them any time together; they’ve only had one night sleeping in the same bed. And her previous dalliances were at court, not with a friend who knows her, who looks at her like… that. Not with a man who read her poetry and actually seemed to mean it.

She can’t help but step forwards, pretending to pull up the collar of his coat, adjusting a buckle. Absolutely because they’re trying for some measure of discretion, and not because she’d like to touch him again, for as long as she can.

He knows, of course. He’s spent long enough watching her back, and he’s always been good with people - differently from the way she is, but good all the same. When she looks up from her work, his eyes are warm and a little amused on hers.

And then he’s pulling her in, gently but inexorably, and kissing her. It’s a slow, lingering thing that makes them both breathless, and he holds her there, a gloved hand smoothing down her lapel. Suddenly she suspects she isn’t the only one having trouble tearing herself away.

When they part, he stares at her for a moment, dark-eyed - then reaches up and swiftly adjusts her hat where it’s been knocked askew. She can’t help grinning stupidly at him.

And then he takes his own tricorne from her bedside table and pulls it on, and they leave the house with the ease of their usual missions. She pretends not to have a spring in her step. And she certainly doesn’t look over her shoulder when they part in the square.

Constantin is, for once, not holding court. She finds him in his office, he greets her - as usual - as if she’s just come back after being thought dead at sea, and they make an itinerary of which higher-ups she’ll have to meet in Hikmet.

All in all, entirely normal, until she says, standing, “Well, I ought to be off. I’ll take Aphra and Vasco; they might be useful.”

And Constantin smiles at her and says, “Of course. Take care of yourself! And give my regards to your Naut.’”

She freezes mid-way through reaching for her hat.

Their eyes meet. She carefully doesn't say anything.

Then she breaks. “He’s not my - “

He’s lazing in his chair, with the smugness of victory. In that obnoxiously cheerful I know something you don’t way, the one that makes her fingers itch to push him out of a tree.

She raises an eyebrow. “Should I ask how you know?”

“Oh, no,” he waves a hand, “you were both being very discreet. You remember the time I asked you if you wanted to go out drinking?”

She sits down, slowly, and tries not to feel like a mouse lowering itself into a trap. She says, with gentle understatement, “There were a few.”

“Yes, well. The most recent one. The one where you refused, because you had terribly important business to attend to.” He looks like some sort of painting of innocence, and that’s how she knows she’s damned to never, ever live this down. “You might have left his poisons belt on the bannister.”

She’s too court-trained to blush, but she feels heat trying to crawl into her face all the same. “There’s more than one poisons belt in New Serene.”

“Only a few with a Naut’s compass carved into them. And what were you talking about a few weeks ago? Your painstaking modifications…”

She tries to regain her equilibrium. “I… We’re Merchants. We give gifts.”

“I know, cousin, and I’m very grateful for my last two hats. The feather was a lovely touch.” He leans his chin on his hand. “But the last time I saw you, you were inexplicably cheerful. Normally I like watching all the longing gazes, while he stares nobly elsewhere or prepares your maps. It’s the best entertainment I’ve had in years. Only, all those had stopped, and suddenly you were studiously trying not to look at him.” He tilts his head, and grins like the cat that’s caught the canary. “And you’re blushing. Adorable.”

“Constantin...” She attempts to hide from the onslaught, but there really isn’t anywhere to go.

“I only wanted to offer my congratulations.” He stands, as if propelled from his chair by the force of his own smugness. “My father would kill you, of course. It’s rather marvellous, really. You were always the one he never had to worry about. I was so certain you’d end up single, or with one of those dreadfully dull nobles from a court somewhere.” He pauses like he’s just remembered she’s there. “Nice, of course, and as long as you were happy – But to think, a Naut! Usually I’m the resident disappointment. Was it the tattoos? They are so very fascinating...” And then he must catch sight of her face, because that pulls him to a stop. “I’m sorry. I’ve got ahead of myself.” And he sits, just a little deflated.

“He’s not some scandal,” she says, quietly. “He’s my – He’s Vasco.”

He’s sober, now, watching her softly. “I know. And I really am pleased for you both.” He looks back to his own papers. “You may have to be subtle, to prevent accusations of favouritism for the Nauts, but… you certainly don’t have to hide it from me. I’ve seen how he looks at you. He’s almost worthy of you.”

She squints at that. “How does he look at me?”

“I thought you’d have noticed! That said, he is rather subtle, isn’t he?” He grins at her. “Hmm… Like a man who’s been hit about the head with something heavy. That sort of not-quite-dazed look. He looks” – and he considers the bookshelves, mouth a theatrical moue of contemplation – “like a man startled by his own luck. I’ve seen enough winners at cards. Only the odd moment, of course, and then he wipes it away and pretends to be very solemn and businesslike.”

She stares, warming at the thought despite herself. “I… he does?”

“He's not bad. I’m sure anyone else wouldn’t catch it. But we, dear cousin, were raised at court.” He looks at her - incredulous, delighted. “And you call yourself a diplomat!”

“I was… busy.”

“Yes. Throwing him your own adoring looks.”

“Being a diplomatic envoy.” She’s quite sure her shade of purple is clashing violently with her coat.

He ostentatiously checks his nails. “Do Nauts marry, perchance?”

“So help me, Constantin, I will leave your court and never come back - “

And then he’s laughing, rich and uninhibited, and it rings like a bell off the high ceiling. It’s been too long since she’s heard that.

“Constantin knows,” she announces, when they’re in a camp a quarter of the way to Hikmet, and Aphra’s left to answer a call of nature. “And he’s laughing at us both.”

Vasco’s brows raise, and then he says, flatly, “I’m not surprised. The man’s been smirking at me in the throne room for a month.”

“I…That’s just his face.”

“To you, it might be. He’s worse than my crew.”

“I... think he’s threatening to buy you a drink.” Grimacing, she admits, “I might have fled before he finished talking.”

He considers her, sharp-eyed and face carefully straight, and says, “I could poison him, if you like.”

“Please don’t. They might make me governor.”

The facade cracks, and he smiles at her, broadly and all sharp teeth. Then it fades. “Do you mind him knowing?” And his voice is quiet, that sort of carefully brisk that means he’s trying to bandage being businesslike over potential hurt. The same tentativeness she saw when he asked her what she thought of the poem, as if he had any hope of hiding what he really meant.

Her first instinct has always been to try charm, and when words fail her, to joke; that’ll end with her in a duel someday. “That I’m with a brave, dashing captain who’s one of the best in the fleet? No. I was just trying not to make him jealous.” She says, with her own uncertainty, “Why? Do you mind him knowing?”

He looks surprised at the question – and then thoughtful, and more than a little fond. “I’ve weathered worse than a bit of scuttlebutt,” he says, stepping forwards to close the distance between them, his hand drifting upwards to map her jaw, her cheek. He smiles when she leans into it, and then he’s kissing her, gentle and far too sweet for a man who can terrify bandits. “My tempest,” he says softly, against her skin, resting there.

A man startled by his own luck.

And now she’s certain her smile must make her look like a fool and would have her pilloried at court, but she can’t bring herself to care. She just lets the silence grow for a moment, and leans into the warmth of him.

Even so, she can’t quite help herself: “I’ve changed my mind. You can poison him, if it would make you feel better.”

He laughs at that, one of her favourite sounds in the world. But he doesn’t let go of her.

#de sardet x vasco #de sardet #vasco #constantin d'orsay #greedfall #my fic #marie de sardet #idiot and fiasco #also based on how fantastically sappy vasco is when you #romance him #and how difficult it probably is to have any honeymoon period #when you're a horrendously busy diplomat and a horrendously busy captain

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mochegato · 4 years

Text

Pixie Spy

Written for the Jasonette July Wayne Gala prompt.

Why?!? Why was she doing this again? Oh right, because John Constantine promised to give her some help with a particularly difficult part of the Grimoire if she did. And he needed the information he was currently obtaining in order to give said help. That is how she ended up with an invitation, still not sure how Constantine pulled that off, to the most exclusive event of the year, the Wayne Gala.

Plus, Adrien was kind of right, ordinarily it would be a great opportunity to showcase her designs. The problem was on its surface, her dress wasn't one of her best works. The black dress had a high, cowl neckline in front and in back, adding a bit of drama and a small homage to the local heroes, vigilantes she silently corrected herself. The high neckline also offset the incredibly short bubble skirt, making her legs look longer than the Nile. Despite being a bit uncomfortable showing that much leg, it was necessary for this particular design and if she could actually feel like she had long legs for once, she was willing to deal with the discomfort. She also added a glittery belt to show her shape and add some bling, which seemed like something the people at this particular event would value. It was functional, not fashionable. Not that it was ugly, just that it was designed to be passable, enough to fit in but not enough to get noticed.

She fidgeted slightly as she stood in the entryway trying to get past the people piling up trying to not so discretely pay homage to the king. That king being Bruce Wayne. From her research, he actually did seem like he was a good guy. The list of charities he started or contributed to was longer than she was tall. She scowled at the voice in the back of her head that sounded suspiciously like Adrien's saying that wasn't much. Adrien, who got out of coming tonight because the mission was to observe the Waynes unnoticed and Adrien Agreste would get a bit too much attention, that cat bastard.

Despite the laundry list of charity work, Marinette was still suspicious of Wayne. First of all, he was rich, filthy rich. Anyone that rich had to have some dark and twisted secrets they were hiding. He wouldn’t be the first rich person to hide their illicit activities behind a veil of charity work. Second, he chose to live in Gotham, the most crime-riddled city in the world. And that is just the reported crime. A great deal of the crime never got reported to or investigated by the police, whether through corruption or exhaustion. The kind of place a rich person could be confident they would get away with literal murder.

But mostly, it was Constantine that made her suspicious of Bruce Wayne. Not that Constantine had ever said anything negative about him, well nothing more than calling him a pain in the ass, but that was really not so much an insult as a compliment coming from Constantine. But, Wayne had information Constantine needed to help them with the Grimoire and Constantine refused to say how Wayne had gotten that information. How and why would a playboy billionaire have that information? There is absolutely no reason someone outside of the hero/villain/magic community would have that information. And, if he was such a good guy, why would Constantine need to go to these lengths to get it without Wayne’s knowledge? Unless it was related to one of his illicit secrets.

Her eyes darted around the room taking in its grandeur, muttering to herself about how ostentatious it all was. Normally, she would be completely mesmerized by the grandeur and pomp of the scene. The room was decorated to perfection. Everything was absolutely exquisite. However, she was too anxious and wary to enjoy it. So instead of being inspired, each gorgeous detail grated on her. She reached up to tug on her hair before remembering her hair had been pulled up into an elegant twist held in place with a single silver pin. With her normal anxiety relief method unavailable, she instead shifted nervously from foot to foot while she scanned the room trying to catch sight of the rest of the Waynes, gently tightening and loosening her grip on her purse, trying not to crush Tikki.

She was so lost in her anxiety she didn't notice the dark haired man walking behind her take notice of her and stop. He stood behind her with a nonchalance that didn’t seem to fit a man his size. He watched her fidget and muttering to herself about “damn rich people” with a smile on his face.

“You don't seem excited to be here” he said quietly.

She turned around with wide eyes, shocked that someone had heard her. Whatever she was expecting to see it was not what she saw in front of her. The man towered over her. Even in her ridiculously, dangerously high heels, Chloe insisted, her head didn’t even come up to his chin. He was also extremely handsome, with chiseled features and the most gorgeous blue eyes she had ever seen. Those eyes were going to be a problem. They were clear and kind and roguish and hypnotizing. His black hair with a shock of white was slightly tousled giving the impression of a rouge trying to look sophisticated. Was it inappropriate to imagine running her hand through his hair and along his sharp jawline? Yeah, probably not appropriate and likely not welcome. Clean up your thoughts, girl! Great, now Alya was in her head scolding her. No, that’s not right, because that would definitely not be Alya’s advice.

He was grinning at her with an impish look in his eyes. “What? Not impressed with the ‘we care about whatever the point of this gala is, but we’re not hobos so let’s not skimp on the luxury for us’ décor? Or maybe it is the illustrious, soul sucking, benefactors of Gotham that have set you on edge.” The smile he shot her was guarded and critical. She chuckled lightly and looked away. “You have good judgement and a good reason to be suspicious. But you made it to The event of the season, so you must have done something right… or wrong.”

She hummed and looked away. “Have you ever had one of those days where everything went wrong and now you don't know how you got where you are or why you are there?”

“I’m familiar with the feeling,” he nodded.

“That's my life. All of it. Every single fucking day. This one included."

He barked out a laugh and looked at her again appraising her. “Well aren’t you a ray of sunshine. I think I like you. You might just make this torture session more bearable. See you around,” he chuckled as he walked away.

Marinette watched the man’s retreating back. The night was already going better than she thought it would. But the plan for the night wasn’t to find a date it was to act as a scout and keep tabs on the… enemy? For all intents and purposes, that is what the Waynes were tonight, right? They had information that she needed, that Paris needed, and they apparently weren’t going to part with it willingly, so they were the enemy. No, enemy sounded too harsh she chided herself. Opposition? Yes, they were the opposition. That sounded much less hostile, more like a game… a game where people’s lives were on the line. You know, just for fun, no pressure.

She found a spot against a wall she could use. It was slightly raised but not well lit so it wouldn’t draw attention to her. From her spot she could finally see the family. It was very thoughtful of them to group together like that. She could see the little one, stiff and military-like posture, glowering at the people around him. He was standing as far away from the rest of the people there as he could without actually leaving the room. Much closer to the dancefloor, she could see the middle boy talking to a few business men. They all had fake smiles plastered on their faces as they made seemingly insignificant small talk. She did not envy him that experience. Between the two and to the side was the oldest son. He was chatting up some business person’s daughter, leaning in a lot closer than etiquette would dictate. Just the father then… there he was still not too far from the door talking to a dark haired woman. He had his arm around her waist as she leaned into him. She must be the girlfriend then. Mari made a note that she should probably pay attention to where she was as well. Fortunately, the spot she had chosen gave her a great vantage point. Unfortunately, her observation spot wasn’t as unnoticed as she had hoped.

___________________________________________________________

Jason made his way over to the bar and ordered a beer. He still hadn’t spoken to his family to let them know he was there and he definitely needed a drink before he approached them. Why the fuck was he here again? Fucking Batman.

Fresh glass of beer in hand, he made his way over to his brothers, refusing to acknowledge any of the partygoers along the way. He watched as his brothers took note of his approach and excused themselves from their conversation partners. Dick didn’t look too happy to turn away from the latest interest, smiling at her and giving her reassurances before sending her away. Tim looked less happy to have to turn away from the men he was talking with. He should be thanking Jason really. He was giving him an out from having to deal with them and their god awful personalities and fashion. Seriously, who told that guy that tie was okay. Even the Riddler would think that tie was obnoxious.

“Okay, I’m here,” Jason said taking a large swig of his drink. “How long before I can ditch this bottomless pit of misery?”

“Woah, slow down there. You’re going to get drunk before the announcement.” Dick cautioned him.

“Do you want me here or do you want me sober? You’re going to have to choose one. They’re mutually exclusive, Dickweed.”

“Come on Jaybird, we all have to be here. None of the rest of us are getting drunk.”

“That’s just because I’m smarter than you guys are,” he said tipping his glass to Tim who had scoffed at the suggestion and took another drink. “There is no reason we all have to be here. We shouldn’t all have to suffer. And officially, I’m not even a member of this hellscape of a family anymore so I really shouldn’t have to be here.”

“If The Disappointment gets to leave, so do I. Someone should be patrolling tonight instead of all of us wasting our time entertaining these harpies. And if one more person tries to touch me on my head I’m going to break a hand.”

“Stop it! Nobody is leaving, Damian. We’re in this together. And Jason, if anyone got to go home it wouldn’t be you. You are the reason we all have to be here in the first place; so we can ALL show our support when we officially announce that you are part of this ‘hellscape of a family’ again. So enjoy it,” he said with a cutting smile.

“Not everyone enjoys getting groped by the gold-digging, trust fund whores. I’ve found a way to cope. It’s called alcohol. Now if you’ll excuse me,” he downed the drink in his hand, “my drink is empty. I’m going to go find another.”

“At least try not to interact with anyone. We don’t want to piss anyone off tonight. And I don’t want to have to fix your messes.”

“Way ahead of you, Replacement.” Jason turned and walked away before Dick could reprimand him again. He needed to get away. He could only handle his family in small does, very small doses, miniscule amounts, and he had already surpassed that limit.

He grabbed two more drinks off of a passing waiter’s tray and looked for the Sunshine Girl. He scanned the room sipping the champagne, trying not to make eye contact with anyone in the room. His size and demeanor was usually enough to keep people away but making eye contact made people think he was open to talking. He was not. He had no interest in making nice with Gotham’s elite. He wanted to get this night over with, with as little pain as possible.

He finally spotted her off to the side of the room speaking with the obnoxious tie guy. Jason watched as the man slid his hand up the side of her leg starting to move under her skirt. Jason started to make his way over to them until he saw her move closer to the man. She was close enough to whisper seductively into his ear now. Ah, not uninvited then. Maybe he had misread her. Well there goes his hope of this party not sucking balls. He started to turn away but noticed a pained expression on the man’s face. He turned back to reexamine the scene. She was holding the man’s hand at an unnatural angle. It was a hold he’d used a few times himself, it was discrete but extremely effective, causing intense pain with a small movement. He knew if she moved her hand just a few more centimeters, she could easily break his wrist.

She let go with a viscous look pushing him away from her as she did. The man shook his hand and scowled at her. He started back toward her and Jason took off running, not pausing to apologize to the people he bumped into along the way. Before he could get to her, she had already taken care of it. She squared her shoulders and glared at the man, making it clear that she could and would continue with her actions if he persisted. When she moved her hand ever so slightly, just enough so he could see it and remember what she had done, the man turned away and smiled at the people who had been standing behind him as though nothing had happened. Jason chuckled to himself watching her move away from the man. She was definitely going to make this night more bearable.

“Looks like you don’t need me around for protection. Although I did bring a drink so maybe I can earn my keep that way,” he said handing her one of the glasses in his hand. “That was extremely impressive. How did you lean to handle yourself like that?”

She accepted the glass and shrugged. “You live in Paris long enough you pick up a few things.”

“That isn’t something you just ‘pick up’. That’s experience.”

“And that is exactly what you get when you have a supervillain terrorizing your streets and thoughts for 5 years; experience. And how do you know about that move? Rich boy secretly a vigilante?” She raised an eyebrow at him giving him a daring smile and pretending to take a drink from the glass. She was on a mission and she didn’t know him. She wasn’t about to actually drink anything a stranger gave her, let alone get drunk.

“You don’t grow up in Gotham without learning how to take down someone trying to cop a feel. And what do you mean about a supervillain in Paris?” he asked taking a step closer to her, concern edging into his stare.

“It doesn’t matter. It’s not relevant for tonight.” She said taking a step away and scanning the room again to locate the Waynes.

He looked at her for a few moments taking her in, not just her appearance but how she held herself. She stood with confidence and nonchalance. She wasn’t acting coy, she wasn’t baiting him to ask her more questions, she was serious. There was some kind of supervillain running around Paris that they had no idea about. Well that piqued his interest. He wanted to find out more about that and just his luck, the only person around who knew about it was the gorgeous and badass Sunshine Child in front of him. Guess he’ll just have to suffer and spend more time talking to her. The things he does for Gotham, he smirked to himself. “I’m Jason,” he said putting his hand out for her to shake.

She looked at his hand before hesitantly taking it. His hand absolutely engulfed hers. “Nice to meet you Jason,” she said looking toward the dancefloor. She had last seen the Waynes near the dancefloor and they couldn’t have gotten far, right? They were likely to be near it.

Misinterpreting her focus he asked, “Wanna dance?” placing down his now empty glass.

She needed a better vantage point to locate the Waynes and even if they weren’t on the dancefloor anymore, the dancefloor would be the ideal place get an unobstructed, overall view of the room. She could see the entire room from the dancefloor. She just had to scope it out discretely so Jason didn’t get suspicious. “Sure,” she said smiling at him and accepting the hand he had offered her.

He guided her out onto the dancefloor. Jason noticed a little girl standing nervously next to the dancefloor looking at a group of kids nearby. “Hold on just a second,” he said dropping her hand to kneel down next to the little girl. “Hey, I just wanted to say what a beautiful dress you have. I wish you had a smile to match. Anything wrong, kid?” he asked gently. The little girl gave him a nervous smile.

“Thanks. My Mom said I could pick out a dress and I chose this one. But Mom says it looks silly. It’s too fluffy and gets in everyone’s way.”

At that Marinette kneeled down next to her as well. “Oh. Well, let me fill you in on a little secret. I’m a fashion designer and I can tell you there is nothing wrong with fluffy. You did a great job picking it out. It is perfect for you. I couldn’t design anything better. I wish I looked as confident and effortlessly beautiful as you do. ”

The smile the little girl gave her was genuine this time. “You really like it?”

“I do,” Marinette responded.

“I do, too. I’m not a fashion designer, but I still think you look good, kid. And if anyone tells you they don’t like it, scr… I mean, forget them. Who cares what they think. A fashion designer and a delinquent think it looks amazing. Don’t let someone else tell you what you like.” Jason added. The little girl beamed at both of them and bounded off to join the kids with much more confidence.

Marinette watched him as he watched the kid play with her friends making raucous noise as they played, a grin on his face until he saw some parents come to reprimand their kids for being so noisy. So, rich boy has a heart and is really protective of kids. Well that wasn’t going to help Marinette focus solely on the mission. “That was incredibly nice of you. That’s not advice I would have expected from someone attending a party like this.” Marinette said taking Jason’s outstretched hand again.

“Just because we’re miserable here doesn’t mean she should be, too. Kids should be happy. It’s ridiculous to bring a kid to a party if you aren’t going to let them be a kid. Adults in Gotham expect too much of their kids. They treat them like props instead of kids, tools to help them achieve a goal.” He said voice getting gruff as he spoke. He looked back at her and shook his head as if to clear his head of his thoughts. He smiled at her instead and took her waist with his free hand to start dancing with her.

“You know, I noticed you never did give me your name.”

She looked into his eyes for a just a moment before she looked back to the dancefloor, “You know, I noticed that too.”

“Hmmm. Secretive. No name but a fashion designer from Paris,” he said. Marinette paled slightly refusing to look back at him. He was paying attention to her and noticing details. She hadn’t expected that from this crowd. She was going to have to be more careful about what she said. ‘Not get noticed’ played over and over in her head. She was supposed to slip in and out with nobody remembering her. She might have blown the mission already. But, was she ready to walk away from those blue eyes? Surely, talking with him couldn’t do any harm, right? “So, did you design the dress you’re wearing?”

She was brought back to reality with a jolt. “Yes. Not… not my best work, but it fit the uh, occasion,” she stuttered out.

“Was the occasion to look stunning? Because you do.” He grinned smugly as she blushed heavily under his praise. This was fun. This was his new mission for the night; to see how many times he could make her blush. “Still not going to tell me your name, huh?”

She looked back at him before dropping her eyes again. Stupid mission. If it were just her here for herself, she could stay here dancing with Jason and gazing into his eyes for the rest of the night, and tomorrow, and the day after for that matter. But she wasn’t here for herself. She was here for a reason and that reason demanded she be anonymous and keep track of the Waynes.

She scanned the floor again and finally spotted the Waynes, confirming they were all there. Nobody had snuck off. They really liked sticking around each other didn’t they?

“No, it takes more than a pretty line from a pretty boy to get my name” she said looking back to Jason and plastering on a fake smile. “I don’t need any rich boys remembering me after this is over. Tomorrow I’ll go back to my real life and it will be like none of this ever happened. I can report that I came, I danced, and I even smiled a few times, then never speak of it again.”

“Friends or family forced you to come because they thought you needed some excitement in your life, Pixie Pop?”

“Something like that… Pixie Pop?”

“You won’t tell me your name and I need to call you something. You’re little and mischievous and can handle yourself… Pixie Pop. Honestly, you’re lucky I didn’t go with Odysseus. Also, you think I’m pretty?” He grinned down at her.

She rolled her eyes but smiled anyway, cheeks flushing slightly. “I think that would have made you Polyphemus, which you certainly have the size for,” she grinned up at him. “Anyway, that’s why I’m here. How about you?”

“Oh, my family thinks I have enough fun already. I’m here because if they have to suffer, so do I. And all to bolster the name of the illustrious Bruce Wayne.”

Marinette examined his face as he stared toward where she last seen Bruce Wayne. He looked annoyed and frustrated. This was a side of Mr. Wayne she had not heard about in her research, a side that frustrated native Gothamites. A bit more information could be helpful for her to figure out what role he played in the Grimoire information Constantine was gathering, figure out whether or not he was a threat. “Not a fan?” she asked delicately.

He looked back at her examining her face for any malice. “Depends on the day.”

She hummed in response. “What can you tell me about Bruce Wayne?” she finally asked.

“Why do you want to know?” he responded suspiciously. Most people looking for more information wanted it as a weapon. Bruce might not be his favorite person, he might actually hate him right now, but he wasn’t going to help someone take him down unless it was him.

She shrugged, “everything I’ve seen shows an exemplary record for him. You don’t seem to be a fan though and you’ve grown up in Gotham so you would have some good insights. So, I’m wondering what your take on him is. What he’s done to draw your ire.”

Jason nodded slightly seeming to mull over what she said. “He does good things. He helps a lot of charities. He honestly does care about the city and the people and about making their lives better. His parenting skills could use some work though. He could show his sons that he actually cares about them as more than tools, you know, whether they live or died…” he furrowed his brows and looked away for a few seconds before he schooled his expression. His eyes got a wicked gleam to them and he leaned towards her to whisper conspiratorially “… and I hear he’s sleeping with Batman.”

Mari looks at him surprised. “Huh, I guess he has a type then, supermodels, superheroes…”

“Supervillains…” Jason says under her breath looking back at Bruce and his date.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he covered quickly, but the damage had already been done. She had started thinking about Bruce’s involvement with the super community. If he was sleeping with superheroes and super villains, that meant he was part of the same circles as Constantine… and Constantine liked dating in the super community. Could Bruce Wayne be in the super community? That would explain why he had information pertaining to the Grimoire. And she might need to revisit exactly how Constantine knew Bruce Wayne.

“Are you okay? I didn’t break you, did I?” he asked cautiously.

“Yeah, fine I could just maybe use some uh, water?” she gave an awkward smile.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, please?” She just needed a bit of space to think.

Jason left to grab a glass of water and turned back to her. She watched Bruce with her head crooked to the side. He saw her finger discretely swiping to the right a few times as she stared intently at Bruce. After a few times her finger swiped left instead and head straightened. She looked around to the other members of the family as if she was counting, confirming something in her head.

Marinette’s eyes widened as she suddenly realized why Bruce Wayne could have information they needed and why Constantine needed her to keep an eye on the Waynes. Shit. Shit shit shit shit. Shitshitshitshitshitshit. Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit. She turned away quickly. This could not be happening. This. Could. Not. Be. Happening. She did NOT help him break into the BATCAVE while she kept tabs on BATMAN.

And if Constantine was trying desperately to avoid him, like he did all his exes…That little…

Jason had no idea what happened but as he got closer to his Pixie he could hear her muttering under her breath in French. His French was a bit rusty so even the pieces he could pick up were scarce and nonsensical. Something about maybe “lying” and “Roast Beef” and “bat” and “shark” and “fucking”. He couldn’t be positive about any of the words except two; “fucking” and “bat” those he was pretty familiar with. Not to brag but he could swear like a sailor in at least 7 languages. And “bat”, he knew that word in a few more languages for obvious reasons.

She was abruptly moving and ran right into him before she could take notice of her surroundings. She looked at Jason with wide eyes, reexamining the man she had spent the evening speaking and dancing with. Suddenly, everything clicking into place. There was one more hero she hadn’t accounted for, Red Hood, who while he hid his face behind a mask, just so happened to have the same towering build as Jason. But Bruce Wayne didn’t have any more kids, right? And if the other vigilantes were his sons, Red Hood should be too, right? He just had the three boys and the two girls who were out of town. That was it. He had another son, but that son had died. What was his name… She gasped loudly, “Oh God! You’re Jason,” she exclaimed out loud.

“Yeah?” He said confused. They’d been over this before.

“You’re Jason Todd,” she said looking down and taking slow breaths. “You’re Bruce Wayne’s son.”

He looked at her startled. She put that together quicker than he was expecting especially since she didn’t seem to know much about the family. “For what it’s worth, I don’t feel like his son most of the time,” he tried to joke. “Sorry for not telling you before. I don’t like talking about being in the family, or being in the family at all, actually.” He winced looking at her wide eyes.

“I wasn’t supposed to get noticed by the Waynes. Shit!”

“Then you shouldn’t have worn that dress… or that face… or that smile, Pixie.” He said grinning suavely.

She examined him for a few seconds, emotions flittering across her face almost too quickly to identify them. Confusion, bashful, flattered, hopeful, guilt, pain, melancholy.

“I have to go.” She finally spoke up.

“Wait. What?”

“I… I have to go”

“Wait, is it… you have to go because I’m Wayne’s son?”

“No, I… shit. Putain de bâtard.” Yep, that one he understood too. Wait... “Me?” He asked pointing to himself.

“No, not you… Not because you’re a Wayne, well kind of because you’re a Wayne. It’s…” she faltered for a few seconds then muttered under her breath again “Je vais tuer cette putain de mère.”

“Wait, who is the mother fucker you’re talking about? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m just going to kill a bitch when I get home.”

“Okay… Okay, first, that is a lot more swearing than I thought you were capable of and I’m extremely impressed… and turned on,” he chuckled as she rolled her eyes at him and mumbled under her breath “you should have heard what was going on in my head”. He raised his eyebrows at her suggestion. “Okay, you’re making it really hard not to make out with you right now.” He watched proudly as her cheeks suddenly blazed red at his comment. Another point for him tonight.

“Second, if you’re just worried about Bruce finding out you were here, it never happened. I never saw you. You were never here,” he assured her. Instead of calming her she seemed more panicked, eyes darting from the door to him. This seemed like more than just not wanting to get noticed. She was into something and didn’t want to be. “Or, if you’re in trouble, I can help. You just need to tell me what is going on. You don’t seem like you would willingly work with someone out to hurt others, so whatever it is, I’m sure you aren’t willingly doing it. If it is something bad. I just really have no idea what is going on right now and I would like you to tell me.” He continued earnestly, looking her in her eyes to make sure she understood how deathly serious he was about it. If she needed help, he WOULD help her. Even if he didn’t like her, which he really did, he was going to help put that smile back on her face.

She looked at him for another few moments opening her mouth slightly to say something then seemed to think better of it and closed it again. She narrowed her eyes and looked away scanning the room as she thought about what to say and do next. She seemed to come to a conclusion as she turned back to him and set her feet firmly on the ground.

“I never told you why I was here, did I?” Even before he shook his head she continued. “I’m here to keep an eye on the Waynes. On you, apparently. Didn’t know you were back from the dead though, so I wasn’t looking out for you. Congratulations on that, by the way, you know, on the whole not being dead thing. That’s really amazing. I’m glad you can be around to enjoy life and laugh and be sarcastic and look at me with those eyes and look like that in a suit… probably even better out of it.” She muttered the last part under her breath.

“I’d love to see you out of that dress, too.” He smiled smugly at her.

She huffed out a breath, cheeks reddening again, “Yeah, not happening. I’m burning this dress as soon as I get out of here.”

“I can help you with that, too. I like setting fires. Two birds, one pyrotechnic.” He preened for a moment enjoying the flirting. Wait, less flirting, more focusing back on the more important part of her earlier speech.

“Wait, why are you keeping an eye on us?” he asked apprehensively.

“So I could warn my… associate if any of you left. So he could have plenty of time to… what is the best way to say this…” she looked up to the ceiling and took a deep steadying breath thinking about the words she wanted to use. None of this was part of the plan. “…so he could have plenty of time to evacuate your… lair? No, lair makes you sound like villains… your illicit… cavern of, actually I don’t know if it is a cavern… and it isn’t really illicit, is it? Well, actually I guess it kind of is, but that still makes it sound like you’re a villain…your underground… no, I don’t even know if it is underground… to evacuate your… uh… secret… base of… um, operations?”

“My what?” Jason demanded now more than a little concerned. “Who are you?”

“Nobody. Absolutely nobody of consequence. And nobody who should be here right now.” She turned to walk away before Jason stopped her.

“No. You don’t get to say something like that then try to slink away like nothing happened. Come on, we’re going to go talk to some people,” he said grabbing her arm a bit harder than strictly necessary and dragging her towards his brothers and Bruce. She definitely figured out who they all were or at least who Bruce was and that they knew too, which put her in danger, and she was working with someone to break into the Batcave, which put them all in danger. Everything about this situation was dangerous and bad and they needed to talk to the family to figure out the best next steps.

Marinette dug her heels into the ground pulling against him, a really bad idea considering how high her heels were. Instead of stopping him she stumbled into his chest allowing him the opportunity to wrap his arms around her, “I’m not going anywhere with you,” she said squirming to get out of his embrace. “This is between you guys. I have neither the desire nor the interest to get involved in this little lover’s spat. I have more important things to be doing right now. Things that asshole was supposed to be doing instead of pulling practical jokes.”

“Jokes? What do you mean jokes? What the fuck is going on?” He looked at her again. She wasn’t afraid, she wasn’t gloating, she wasn’t even nervous. She was annoyed verging on enraged.

“Nothing you need to worry about, Red.” She threw in the moniker at him to get him to back down. She knew how important secret identities were, and how finding out someone knew yours could throw you off your game. She felt a bit of guilt as she used that knowledge against him but this was no longer fun. Now this was infuriating. John was playing games with his former lover, or current lover, whatever Bruce was to him, instead of just helping. He was taking time she didn’t want to spend, time the people of Paris should not have to wait. They had spent weeks planning this when he could have just walked in and asked for the information. They had wasted so much time.

“I. Do. Not. Have. Time. For. This. This is not a joke. This is not some gag for you overgrown children to play at,” she said hitting her finger into his chest with each word. “I have people in need relying on me. I have children counting on me. Parents counting on me. Single people, who also deserve to live just as much as everyone else, counting on me and all suffering while they wait. I. Am. Done. And I am leaving”

Jason listened to her shocked. Something was happening and he had absolutely no idea what, but somehow they were involved. He hated not knowing what was going on. Apparently children were suffering because of all of this and he didn’t know why. But, he was going to figure it out. She was right. They did not have time for this. Whatever was going on, they were going to help. He turned away loosening his grip on her waist to just laying his arm on her instead of encircling her. He touched his hand to his ear to activate the com hidden inside, “Tim, can you check the security video for the uh… our base of operations?”

It appeared that Tim was giving Jason some resistance because Jason turned away even further and started yell whispering threats into the air. He was trying to be as discrete as possible in the crowded room, which normally wouldn’t be such a concern but there was a group of dancers headed their way, just leaving the dance floor after the song ended. Marinette took advantage of his distraction and the sudden cover to twist away from him and slip into the crowd.

Jason called after her and tried to grasp her arm but missed her. He searched for her but the crowd was too thick, having had to bottleneck to get past the tables surrounding the dance floor. He scanned the crowd for her twisted hair or the black dress, but couldn’t see her in the group. She had effectively disappeared, but if she went into the crowd, she would have to come out and cross the dancefloor in order to leave. He could just wait for her on the other side of the group and keep an eye on the dancefloor. He moved to go around the table, but that side was just as crowded so he did the only rational, discrete thing he could in the situation, he slid across the top of the table landing on the dancefloor and waited to grab her there, but she never came out.

_____________________________________________________________

Marinette had a habit of catastrophizing. She knew this. Everyone who knew her knew this. She thought of all of the worst case scenarios and tried to plan for them. Generally, it was a wasted effort that did little more than stress her out and annoy her teammates. Today, however, today it paid off. She had anticipated having to make a quick escape and once she decided it was time to go, she put her escape plan into action. Freeing herself from Jason, she pulled off her belt before even getting to the crowd. As she entered the crowd of people, she pulled out her hair pin, letting her hair fall down. She didn’t even have to hunch down much at all to disappear into the crowd as she weaved her way through them. One advantage to being short. She ran her left hand through her hair tousling it so her long raven hair cascaded around her shoulders. With her right hand, she yanked at the cowl neckline of her dress, allowing the fabric overlay to drop forming a floor length skirt, revealing the bodice of her now red Harlow inspired dress that had been hidden underneath. Her new dress hugged her body until it reached her hips then fell freely.

Finally, she reached into her red purse, removed her phone, the cookie for Tikki, and Kaalki’s glasses, nodded to Tikki, turned her purse inside out revealing a now black purse with red detailing, and returned her phone, glasses, cookie, hairpin, and belt into it, leaving plenty of room for Tikki. The entire change took all of 10 seconds. By the time she would walk out of the crowd, she would be completely unrecognizable, at least by anyone who didn’t already know her. Unless that is, if they were looking for someone moving against the tide of people. That would be a dead giveaway. So instead, she pivoted and moved with the crowd instead of against it, parting with them after a few tables and moving laterally toward the exit.

Marinette made her way to the exit quickly, but not quickly enough to draw attention to herself. She needed to get to Constantine before the “bat family”, as her research had called them, got to him. They had reasons for keeping other superheroes out of Paris and she had no interest in having that particular awkward and slightly guilt laden (stupid gorgeous blue eyes she wanted to get lost in) conversation with them. Especially when she was this utterly livid with Constantine, which was another reason she was rushing. She needed to get to him so she could beat the asshole out of him. Oh, she was going to make him pay for this, and not in a way he would enjoy.

She was angry and frustrated and guilty and grieved. She knew Jason didn’t deserve for her to snap at him like she had but she had been too frustrated to hold back and he was part of the problem. She had been having fun with Jason. She had been enjoying bantering with him and looking into his eyes. She had really, really been enjoying having him look at her like she was the most interesting thing in Gotham and having him hold her closer than he had to while they danced. And now it was gone. She was a hero and he was a vigilante so he had to be kept at a distance. A 3,670 mile distance to be precise, well approximate.

She was just about to cross through the exit when a voice stopped her.

“Hey,” a woman with short black hair and green eyes called out to her. Marinette slowed down weighing the risk of just blowing her off vs the risk of stopping. She decided ignoring her might lead to the woman calling after her, which would bring unwanted attention, which she wanted to avoid. Stopping seemed the safer answer. As long as she didn’t look back at the gala or do anything else that might incriminate herself, she would be able to get away without any awkward conversations or fights.

“Yes” she answered with a strained smile.

“I saw that little quick change back there,” the woman responded. Marinette’s eyes widened in panic. Before anxiety could start going over all the worst case scenarios her mind could come up with, she was already in the midst of one of them in real life she really didn’t need to start thinking of worse things to add to it, the woman continued, nonchalantly scanning the people at the gala, “don’t worry, I’m not going to out you. I just might have occasion to use a quick change myself from time to time, so I was hoping you might share where you got your dress.” She shot Marinette a wicked smile. ”Just because you’re hustling doesn’t mean you can’t look killer doing it.”

Marinette relaxed minutely and gave her a small smile, “it’s called MDC Designs. She’s online. What’s your name so she’ll know who to look out for?”

“Thanks kitten. I appreciate it.” She said never looking back at Marinette. “Selina. Selina Kyle. I’d say nice to meet you, but we never met, did we?”

Marinette smiled to herself as she walked out the door. Maybe the night wasn’t a total loss. Hopefully, Constantine got the information they needed, she’ll get to punch his smug face as soon as she sees him, and she’ll get a new client. Guess Adrien was right about showcasing her design after all. He must never know. Not such a bad night at all.

Chapter 2

Tag:

@fsketchart @jasonette-july-2k20

#maribat #jasonette #jasonette july 2k20 #Pixie Spy

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legends-live-in-memories · 3 years

Text

“How Did All This Happen?”- A Memoire by one Marinette Dupain-Cheng 1

Soooooo I decided to write this. much longer than the other things i posted, also very tonally different. I will definitely continue that other fic tho. I was just brainstorming and now this exists. Yeah.

without further ado

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

People Fucked Up and Now It’s All Marinette’s Mess to Clean Up I

This was not how Marinette planned for her night to go. Granted, she also could not envision it going literally any other way. The woes of making a deal with the hell-raiser himself, John Constantine, she supposes. She truly hoped Adrien was having a much better time than her with his cousin in London. After the circus that was the past three years, he deserved some reprieve, even if it was with his bratty doppelganger. Regardless, Marinette. Was. Not. Pleased. No matter how many times she thinks over her plan, recalculates every step and decision, she could not fathom this night ending well for her, or anyone really, but mostly her. And no amount of old Ladybug or Guardian luck could help her. Now, if one were to wonder what kind of tragedy had befallen Marinette on this disgraceful night, a brief history of the last three months could enlighten such a person. Or better yet, let’s start at the beginning. The Real Beginning.

So, things existed. Obviously. First there was nothing, and then, something. And as more things began to exist, as new schools of knowledge and concepts and ideas began to, well, exist, Kwamis formed as well. Each Kwami was the physical manifestation of these ideas or abstracts. Creation was the first, coupled with Destruction. And as more things began to exist, more things began needing to be protected. Thus, the Kwami of Protection. This went on. For a while. Soon thereafter there were Kwamis of all types. Jubilation, Time, Strength, etc, etc, and etc. Now these Kwamis did not linger in one spot. They roamed across the far stretches of existence and interacted with the life they found.

Some Kwamis decided to form a magical pact which intergalactic historians would later dub the Emotional Electromagnetic Spectrum. Sounds familiar? The Kwamis themselves were completely blissfully unaware of this title, lest they would have explained to these beings, Maltusians they were called, that they were not in fact, electromagnetic but more so a part of the Powers that Be. Kind of. But this side-story involves the formation of a few universally known Lantern Corps, and that is a barrel of monkeys our exasperated narrator does not want to touch with a ten-foot pole. Or ever.

Other Kwamis, who stuck close to what would become known as the Milky Way, were discovered by a mage who granted them the ability to interact with humans. This mage— and Marinette was silently cursing his descendants, herself included, for if it weren’t for this absolute mad lad, none of the subsequent events of this night would have transcribed—had bound the Kwamis to magical jewelry called Miraculouses. An interesting side effect of these Kwamis being bound to the miraculouses was that the wearer could call upon the powers of the Kwamis for their own usage. The mage feared what could become of the world if this kind of power became so easily accessible, so he created the Order of the Guardians. The Order was dedicated to training young mages to protect, wield and harvest the powers of the miraculouses. The Order swore to true neutrality; wishing not to impose their will on one side or the other, to maintain balance and to not upset the natural order of the world.

This went surprisingly well for a few millennia, that is, of course, if you ignore the sinking of Atlantis, the extinction of the dinosaurs, the Black Plague, the creation of the Lazarus Pits, Pompeii, to name a few completely egregious instances—not necessarily in order of course—and well, the point stands that it could have been astronomically worse. Until it was.

One young mage and Guardian in training had caused the downfall of almost the entire Order of the Guardians. All the centuries of history, teachings, artifacts and even the people at the head temple, were lost to the calamity. Dozens of Miraculous Boxes were lost, destroyed in the fray. The Kwamis themselves were relatively unaffected, being immortal and all, but the magical jewelry binding them to the earth were broken, thus those Kwamis were lost to mankind once again. Only one singular box, and the young mage himself, survived. The new Guardian of one miraculous box was left to scour the earth in solitude. Well, about as much solitude one could have with 17 pocket gods as company. The fact that the only box that survived was missing two more miraculouses caused the already stressed guardian to grey further. But that tidbit of information would be a problem for later. And for someone else entirely too. Oh joy.

But before that sequence of events, aptly named “Marinette’s Trial by Fire,” however, the young guardian had a couple more life mistakes to make before he reached his internal quota apparently. Rather than travel to another sector of the Order on the other side of the earth, this young mage stumbled upon another organization, one similar in architecture and hierarchy but a pendulum swing in the total moral opposite. Yes, that’s right, the guardian found himself upon the League of Shadows, led by Ra’s Al Ghul in his endeavor of global cleansing; by acts of ecoterrorism, but who sweats the small stuff, right? There, the young guardian, who adopted the name of Wang Fu, met his first love Ming Hong and they had a son. The son had a daughter he named Mei. Now Mei was only a few weeks younger than Ra’s Al Ghul’s grandson, Damian. Now with an appropriate heir, and someone to procreate with said heir, Ra’s Al Ghul gained a special interest in the small Fu family that originally flew under the radar of the League.

Now this is where things continue to go downhill, but not until much, much later in this story. Ra’s Al Ghul, despite his radical ambitions, was particularly good at playing the long game and understood when he couldn’t accomplish a task directly. This being said, he recognized that, due to prolonged exposure to the Lazarus Pits, his soul could not bear the strain of being a wielder of a miraculous and so he waited. Waited until a suitable heir was sired and could copulate with an heir to the guardian of the miraculous box, desiring to create a bloodline of genetically suitable successors and wielders who were loyal to him and his cause.

Ra’s ordered for the Fu family to have a place on his court and ordered for Mei Fu to be trained in mastering the secrets of the miraculous. And master she did. By age 6 she was fluent in the coded language of the magical text, or as fluent a 6 year old can be in any language, and she had mastered 7 out the 17 miraculouses. By age 10 she was as skilled as the grandson of the Demon Head in combat and could handle simultaneous wear of 3 miraculouses. Her training, however, had to be put on hold as somebody thought usurping the Demon Head was of the utmost importance that glorious Tuesday and staged a coup. She wished Deathstroke had lost more than an eye that day, but a girl can dream she supposes. Mei and her grandfather were separated from the rest of the League and journeyed west. Somehow they ended up in Paris, France. After one too many run ins with the authorities, Mei was removed from her grandfather, who was deemed too unfit to support her. It was a miracle he wasn’t deported.

Mei was put into protective custody where she resided until she was 13. Recently adopted, and thoroughly done with the plebeians of her daily encounters, Mei Fu became Marinette Dupain-Cheng, daughter of the best bakers in Paris. All was well and good for the new Dupain-Cheng until the start of the new school year.

She met her grandfather again. And apparently he had a job for her and her soon to be new partner.

Hawkmoth, that bitch, had somehow acquired the two last surviving miraculouses and the only surviving grimoire and thought domestic terrorism was on the agenda for the next few years. Why? Because investing in a family therapist was too much of an inconvenience for local recluse, Gabriel McFucking Agreste, Marinette would shortly learn.

After dealing with all of that and juggling between her reignited guardian training, and ‘normal’ girl life—because her parents don’t know that she’s a magical girl in the making—, Marinette was ready to sleep for a thousand years. Or commit murder. Whichever gave her enough serotonin to complete her current passion project. But, alas, no rest for the totally-over-it or however that saying goes. Because after declaring Paris safe once again, sending off her brother-in-arms, Adrien Agreste, to family in London (marginally decent but anything beats the abusive prick of a sperm donor), in waltz one drunken John Constantine.

Ah yes. Him. That absolute bastard who doesn’t deserve nice things in life. That guy.

This unpleasantry approached Master Fu and Marinette, who has been regulated to errand-girl in lieu of training, with a job that he proclaimed that only one blessed with magic, and specifically NOT connected to the Justice League could accomplish. Apparently, a group called the Cult of the Kobra resided on Santa Prisca and was in possession of a dangerous magical artifact that had been the backbone of their organization for years. Constantine came to them asking them for assistance in retrieving it as the Justice League could not interfere in the Caribbean due to new UN legislation. It was a mission of utmost urgency for he feared the cult leader, Kobra himself, was planning on enacting a ritual that could bring calamity to Earth. Which is just what the doctor ordered. Not. In exchange, he agreed to add to her magical training as while master Fu was good, he was still young when he ran away from his problems the first time and thus was limited in his magical knowledge.

That was three months ago. Three months of planning, training, and convincing her parents that letting her go on an extended retreat for an undetermined amount of time with her mostly absent biological grandfather was totally reasonable for the seventeen year old to do. Like, come on. She’s almost old enough to drink, almost ready for university and has been praised for her independence and self-sufficiency for years. She’ll be fine is what she told her parents and she was almost able to convince herself of that too. She would be perfectly fine. Right?

Wrong.

Marinette was anything but fine. She was stressed, she was tired and she was abso-fucking-lutely pissed at anything that even breathed in her direction. Why? Well that brings us back to the beginning of the story when everything on this mission did not go according to plan. So here she was along what was once upon a time the eastern coastline of Santa Prisca. Oh and look. The Junior Justice League has arrived.

Purrrrfect.

Some one asked for a taglist. Ask and ye shall receive

@deathwishy @neakco @ virtualreading @f-rget-lt @your-resident-chicken-nugget

#maribat #marinette x damian #daminette #i was bored and left unattended #no salt in case you were wondering #yes i am looking at you antis who feel like stalking this tag #im not tagging characters cuz reasons #badass!marinette dupain cheng #idk what plot this is going to have or how heavy the romance is but this just exists so #i wrote this at 1 am #hdath #thats the fic tag im gonna use if i post more

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bebepac · 3 years

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WIP Wednesday 06.30.21

Original Post Date: 06/30/21 10:40PM EST

You can get one guess as to who i’m talking about with this:

Thanks for the tags @dcbbw , @queenjilian @phoenixrising308 you’s guys are prompting me to throw a wip together for today. Since I didn’t get to do one on Sunday.

I’m not going to tag any one to ask what they’re up to as I’m late to the party, and if you were going to post a WIP today, you probably already have at this point.

It is the end of the fiscal year for my pharmacy so we had to do inventory today. Super fun.

Here’s what I got. Sorry It’s not more. Told you all some of these would be wips for a while!

gets a little facelift: because we’re going into the future people!!!!

Unfurled The Days The Earth Stood Still Part 3 Riley x Nico (Riley x M!OC) with past pairing of Liam x Riley Status: Still in the writing Process

Riley took William into the Hall of Remembrance. In it were pictures of all Cordonia's Kings and Queens of the past.

"William, it's time I tell you something very important about who you really are. I want you to listen to me very carefully."

"Yes Mama."

"When you look around this room you see the great Kings and Queens of Cordonia, that were great leaders. You are a descendent of the people in this room."

She led William to the last picture on the wall that had been added to the wall. The eternal flame illuminating the picture.

"This is a picture of King Liam Constantine Xavier Rys. This is Uncle Leo’s brother. He's your father."

William studied the picture in silence, and he didn’t seem surprised at all.

"I look like him."

"You do."

"Did you miss him?"

"Every day."

"What was he like?"

"He was kind, loving and brave. He was funny, and chivalrous. He saved us."

She pointed to another picture.

"This is the only family photo that exists of us."

It was a picture of Riley and Liam standing together, early in the night of the Homecoming Ball.

"Where am I?"

Riley smiled.

"You were in my tummy then. I didn't know you were there yet. Neither of us did."

"Did you love him?"

"Yes, and I still do. I wish he was here."

"Can I tell you something Mama?"

"You can tell me anything, Will."

"I've seen him before."

"In pictures around the palace?"

William slowly shook his head.

"When I'm sad, really sad. He comes to me. Do you believe me?"

In that moment she felt as if she was his age, and younger, the first time she had told someone about Jaiden. That part of him was just like her. She could feel he was afraid of what her answer would be. She was just like her dad, Jason Brooks.

She smiled at him and stroked his cheek.

"I believe you baby."

Coupling The Meet: Chapter 7 Liam x Jillian (Liam x F!OC) / Leo x Bebe (Leo x F!OC) Status: Still In the writing Process

"Breakfast is ready."

They walked into the kitchen in their matching robes.

Bebe was surprised by the table. There were even flowers.

"Leo… this is so much…"

"Why do you think you're not worth it? Because you are."

There was a dopey smile on Bebe’s face. He liked seeing her a little awkward the way she was in that moment together, not knowing what to say. So he took the lead.

“Let’s eat breakfast.”

They laughed and talked during breakfast.

“What time do you have to be at work?”

“I’m not today, I’m totally calling out with a 24 hour case of death or something.”

“So I get to hang out the day with you then?”

“If you’d like?”

“As long as after this breakfast we wind back up in bed for a bit.”

“Um you have to wait at least 30 minutes before you go back to bed after eating.”

“Says who? I’m pretty sure you’re confusing food and swimming.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

They were laying in bed together when Bebe got a text. She glanced at her phone.

“We’re like laying next to each other Leo.”

“Read it.”

Bebe glanced down at her phone. It was just one sentence.

‘Will you be my girlfriend?’

Steps Towards Home Just The Way You Are: Chapter 15 Liam x Riley / with past pairing of Riley x Nico. Status: Still in the writing process

“Did you want a snack? I have some juice and cookies.”

Nic nodded.

She handed Nic an apple juice and a pack of cookies.

He was about to open his package of cookies when he noticed no one else had anything.

"You're not having snack time too?"

"No."

"My Mom likes to eat, she always has snack time with me."

Carmen laughed.

"I don't think she'd like you telling people that."

"Oh no, Your Honor, she'd tell it herself." Dontae laughed. "Riley Brooks is a very honest woman."

Carmen passed out snacks to everyone.

Nic smiled.

"Was it important to you for all of us to have snack time together?"

"We always eat together. Mom is just like my Giagiá. She loves me."

"Why do you want to live with Ms. Brooks?"

"Because she's my Mom. She tucks me in at night. And I like that. When I'm sad, she hugs and sings to me. We ate ice cream for breakfast one morning just because."

Dontae laughed as did Judge Carmen.

"She's my and Papa's forever Valentine. She was there when Papa….."

Nic's eyes filled with tears.

Dontae rested his hand on Nic's shoulder.

"When Papa died. She said she wouldn't leave me, and she didn't. We talk about him. She gave me some of his things."

"What kinds of things?"

"Papa's pajamas. She said they would fit me when I grow up.

"Did your Papa ever tell you anything about your Mom? Not Ms. Brooks."

"Yes."

"What did he say?"

The Past

"Papa!" Nic screamed as Nico walked into the room.

"Remember your inside voice Nicolai."

"Yes Miss Raven."

Nico adjusted his tie. "I apologize, I had come directly from work."

"No it's alright. We're glad you made it. You can join us in the sharing circle."

Nico contorted himself to sit in the child size chair next to Nic.

As Nic stared around the room, everyone else had their Mothers. Nico was the only father in the group. The kids shared their family drawings. Nico was proud of his son. But he saw how he looked at the other Mothers in the room.

"Papa, why don't I have a Mommy? Everyone had one today but me."

Nico sighed.

"You remember seeing the family pictures and had Mommy's and Daddies, Some had just a Mommy, and one had Two Mommies?"

Nic nodded.

"Every family is different. Sometimes Mommies and Daddies make promises they can't keep. And it's better they are away from each other."

"Why?"

"To not hurt you. Mommy thought I could be a better Papa to you than she could be a Mommy. That does not make her bad.”

That’s all for Now peeps

#bebepac writes #wip wednesday #just the way you are #the days the earth stood still #the meet #liam x riley #riley x nico #trr fanfic #trr fandom

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batboyimagines · 4 years

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Cold-Blooded [Damian Wayne x Male Reader]

Your Dad and your Ma’s relationship is... rocky to say the least. They were never actually together, no marriage or anything. It was just one night of bad decisions that made you.

So your birth wasn’t well planned. You think the reason your ma even kept you was because she was lonely. She’s raised you to the best her ability for they past fourteen years but it was only recently your dad found out. Now they have joint custody.

See, all of that isn’t normal per say, but it’s not bizarre or anything. Just two inexperienced, lonely people screwing up in more ways than one to make a whole nother screw up. However, your parents aren’t exactly average. One’s not even human. Anymore.

Medusa and John Constantine. By the gods, that’s probably the worst match imaginable. Moms great and all, you really do love her, but she’s a little crazy. Being exiled on an island all alone does that to you. And Constantine’s just... a mess. Not even a hot one.

Even so, you don’t mind being pawned between the two. They’re both great in their own ways and you appreciate the both of them. Right now you’re hanging out at your dad's house. Though it feels more like hanging out with an awkward uncle than a dad.

It’s nearing about 8:00 in the morning, not that you know that. You’re asleep on the couch, gazing blankly at the ceiling. You forgot to close your eyes while you sleep again. It’s sort of creepy.

A sudden pounding on the door startles you up, breaking the staring contest you were having with the ceiling. A contest which you totally won. You blink dazedly and the pounding starts up again.

Mournfully slipping out from under the soft, warm stack of blankets you slept under, you lumber towards the door. You squint through the peephole.

Through the peephole you see a warped view of six costumes lunatics of all sizes. You lean back from the door and let yourself have a begrudged yawn. Gods, it’s way too early for this. Dad’s still asleep even with all the racket.

The littlest lunatic in the hood pounds the door hard enough for it to shake in its frame and you decide you’ve had enough. You don’t bother with the chain latch and just open the door a crack.

“Do you know how early it is?” You groan. The little lunatic, who is actually around the same height as you, scoffs.

“It’s eight pm. A normal person would be awake and ready for the day by now.”

“Well, I don’t know how you people are up then because anyone who dresses like that isn’t normal.” The green guy snorts.

“Listen, we’re sorry to wake you, but is this the residency of John Constantine?” The guy in the black leotard asks.

“... no, why?” You ask suspiciously.

“We are the Teen Titans and we are in need of magical assistance.” The really tall, really exposed, redhead says. “We require his assistance, on behalf of the justice league.” You tense a bit at that.

Okay, you don’t hold the things that the gods did to your mom against those two members of the justice league, Aquaman and Wonder Woman. They seem like nice folks who really do want to do good and not for the selfish, vain reasons gods usually do, but…

They got their abilities from the same gods who really, really messed your mom up for no good reason. So call you petty, but you don’t want to associate with them.

“Sorry, he’s not here.” You say attempting to close the door on them. The hooded lunatic jams the door with his hand.

“This is a matter of utmost importance, you will take us to Constantine.” He demands. You scowl at him and try to shut the door on his fingers.

“Screw off weirdo, he’s not here!”

“He is, you are lying!”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“Am NOT!”

“Are TOO!”

“Christ on a cracker, what the bloody hell is going on?!” Your dad shouts, slamming the door shut, fully unlocking it and swinging it back open. Looks like the racket finally got him up. He sags at the sight of the troupe of crazies. “The hell do you people want?”

“We need your help.” Leotard man says.

“Of course you do. With what, I mean?”

“My father, Trigon, has possessed the justice league and we need a way to stop him.” The girl in purple replies. Your dad tenses.

“Trigon, eh? Sounds like a piece of work.” He says. You pretend to cough.

“Says the piece of work.” You tease under your breath because what’s even the point of a dad if you can’t make jabs at his life choices? He gives you a look and you just grin up at him.

“Why should I help you? The kind of magic that I’d have to use against that guy is expensive and tricky. I’m not gonna do it outta’ the good of my heart.”

“Because if you don’t help us, he could destroy the world.” Leotard says.

“Of course he could.” Dad breathes out as he sags against the door frame. You pat his arm. He looks at you and you give him an awkward smile. It seems to help him to a decision. He straightens up. “Well, I guess I don’t want the world to end. I need somewhere for this one to grow up.” He pats your head affectionately.

“Thanks.” You say, a bit embarrassed. Half because that’s the sappiest thing he’s ever said to you and half because, well, it’s nice to know you mean something to him. Even if he didn’t know that you existed until a few months ago.

“Well, come on in then.” He says turning from the doorway and into the apartment. The troupe of crazy people that nearly just broke into your house follow. You flounder for a moment.

“Wait, seriously? We’re just gonna let some random strangers, who nearly just broke in our house, inside just like that?” Your dad looks a bit guiltily at you.

“Sorry bud, but this happens a lot more than I’d like.” He raises his hand hesitantly and gently lays it on your shoulder. “You can go back to your mother while I deal with this, if you’d like.”

“No, no it’s okay,” You quickly reassure, “it’s not bad it’s just… kinda weird. You know it’s weird right?” He snorts.

“Of course I do, but to be honest it’s almost normal for my line of work.”

“You should get into a different line of work then.”

“You know, I probably should.”

Leotard man clears his throat- you know what? You want to know their names before they commandeer any more of your father-son bonding time. “By the way, what are your names? I feel I should know them before we do anything else.”

“Oh! My apologies,” Redhead replies, “I am Koriand’r, of Tamaran. And this is Blue Beetle, Beast boy, Raven, Nightwing, and Robin. We are the Teen Titans.”

“No offense, but you look more young adult than teenager?” She smiles sheepishly.

“Well, I was part of the original titans. I am now the leader.”

“Oh, okay, makes sense.”

“Alright,” your dad cuts in, “so what’s your plan for Trigon? What exactly do you want from me?” He and the Teen Titans begin to plan. You stick around for a bit, to get an idea of what your dad does. It’s not very interesting. So ten minutes into planning, you slip away to make breakfast.

Now, your dad is a mess. Not kind of a mess, a straight up mess. The kitchen is almost a reflection of your father. It’s a huge mess. There’s takeout boxes and dirty dishes strewn across every counter, no room for literally anything there is so much garbage. And this is only a few weeks worth of build up. Dad actually cleaned up before you arrived.

Before you can even begin cooking you have to clean off the counters for some space. You’re trying to balance takeout boxes on top of the overflowing garbage can when a voice sounds from the doorway.

“This place is repulsive.”

“HUAUGH FUCK!” You whip around flinging the takeout boxes across the room. Hooded lunatic, uh Robin you think, dodges them expertly. He seems a little surprised. You clutch at your chest, “Jesus, Christ man!”

“Apologies, I… did not mean to startle you.” He raises his hands a bit, as if calming a rapid animal.

“Apology accepted.” You calm your rapid heart. Your freak out seems to have spooked any animosity Robin had earlier. The two of you stand around awkwardly. He’s a stranger in your house and he’s in a strangers house, which does not make for easy conversational partners. He looks around, avoiding your gaze. His eye catches on a painting on the wall.

“That is… an interesting picture.” He tries.

“Uh yeah, that’s actually a picture of my mom.” You say, playing with your hands.

“That is Medusa.”

“Yeah, she’s my mom.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I see.”

“She doesn’t actually look like that, that painting’s really inaccurate.”

“Why does your father keep it up?”

“I dunno,” You’d feel weird cooking with him watching you, so you make your way past Robin and into the dining room, “I think either pettiness or affection.”

“Pettiness?” He asks following you.

“Yeah, I mean, they aren’t together? I think they were at least acquaintances before they, uh, ‘conceived’ me. But they don’t seem to like each other very much nowadays.” You say, pulling a chair out from the table. You push the one across from you out with your bare foot and gesture towards it. Robin hesitates a moment, but decides to sit down. “What about your parents? They like each other any more than mine do?”

“No,” He snorts, “I think they like each other much less.”

“Oh.”

The conversation stalls. You shift uncomfortably. Robin stares a hole into the grimy table.

“Why not?”

“Pardon?”

“Why don’t your parents like each other?” He seems to think over his answer.

“They are on opposite sides of the law.”

“Oh, that’s tough.”

“Yes.”

“There’s tons of couples on opposite sides of the law though.”

“Not them. My father’s moral code cannot bend to suit my mother.”

“Ah, I see.” You lean across the table and pat his arm. He looks at it a bit suspiciously, you pull it back. “I’m sorry about your parents.”

“No need to apologize, I’ve already come to terms with it.”

“Yeah, well, still sucks.” You say standing up. “I was gonna make food, wanna lend me a hand? I’m still new to cooking appliances. And electricity.”

“How are these things new to you?” He asks, even as he stands up to help anyway.

“Dude. I grew up on an island with no electricity or WiFi. All of this,” you gesture to the space around you, “is totally alien to me.”

“Ah, I see. Yes, I will assist you.”

“Thanks.”

He failed to mention that he has never used a toaster either. You both nearly burn down the apartment, had it not been your dad’s fire extinguisher.

TO BE CONTINUED

#Damian Wayne x Male Reader #Damian Wayne x Reader #x Reader #x Male reader

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obnoxiouslylongandboring · 3 years

Text

My Tunnels Are Long and Dark These Days

Featuring snapshots of the three most important road trips in Zemo and John's journey of working together.

To love is to pretend, don't try to love yourself again That is the worst kind of pain We're not those kinds of freaks, amen We're a different sort of breed of men

KARAKORAM HIGHWAY, CHINA-PAKISTAN

Zemo sat slouching in his seat, one hand hanging out the window of the truck, another draped on the steering wheel. The road stretched out in front of them, disappearing into the shadows of the mountains and forests. The sun was not up yet, it was early morning. 5AM, where no one rose out of bed but the office workers, the labourers, the soldiers coming out of their blanket shells. And where no one entered into slumber but the gravediggers, the night-shifters, the soldiers retreating into their blanket shells. The truck had been trotting along the road for hours, a small brown beetle with its headlights shining pale yellow, framing the one-meter radius ahead of it. Twenty-four hours ago had been when they first kicked the ignition into its churn in the region of Kashgar (a former trading town along the Silk Road), and when the prospects of a proper ceramic toilet had bit the dust. Twenty-four hours come and gone, with Zemo quietly helming the operation.

From Kashgar, they had traveled to Karakul under the cover of night, a journey that had taken them six hours. There had been no scenery of note but white moonlight glinting off the peaks of the two tall snowy mountains, Muztagh Ata and Mount Kongur. The shimmering scales of the Karakul lake had enraptured Zemo for hours, greeting him whenever a sharp jolt in the road woke him from his slumber.

And now, after resting a few hours at a local abode, they continued on to Tashkurgan, where from there they would go right into the borders of Pakistan.

A small muffled sound came from the lump beside him. “What’s the situation?” John mumbled blearily, poking his head through the covers. Zemo cast him a sideline glance, frowning at his sleep-mussed hair and squinted eyes. “It’s not your turn yet.”

With a snort, John closed his eyes again and rolled over, facing away from Zemo. He settled into another deep sleep.

A big, military-looking truck drove by them, momentarily blinding Zemo with its headlights. Heartbeat quickened in his chest, Zemo sat up straighter and observed the truck through the rearview mirror, hoping for its retreat. He glanced quickly towards his small driving compartment, doing a mental catalog of the materials there: a driver’s license, a forged visa to pass the border customs, fake passports with cover identities for himself and Walker… good, very good. All according to plan. Zemo rolled down the windows of his truck slightly, listening intently. The roar of the military truck did not fade into a distant hum. Instead, there was the screech of tires and the sudden whirring which indicated only one thing- Walker had better practiced the cover story that Zemo told him to, or the ensuing events would be catastrophic.

The urgent, piercing honking behind them startled John into wakefulness. He bolted up, then as if realizing that there was nowhere to go, settled back gingerly into his seat. “Zemo…”

Zemo tightened his grip on the wheels. Flexed his knuckles once, twice. Gently, as if petting a startled cat, rolled the ball of his foot over the brakes. “Anderson, don’t panic,” he says with practiced calm. “Remember what we rehearsed?”

“Yeah, Niki,” John replies. Though his face was carefully composed, the telltale twitching of his leg told Zemo otherwise.

All John had to do as Anderson was play the part of a slightly confused USA diplomat, heading from China to Pakistan over some matters of a proposed trade deal. Niki was to be his driver and translator, a man who had been an exchange student in China briefly where he picked up some basic Mandarin. Zemo had learned barely enough to get the both of them through a ten, fifteen-minute exchange. For the rest of his persuasion, he’d have to rely on the forged documents and the facade of confidence. If all went well, they would be sent on their merry way very quickly, and deliver all eight billion dollars worth of SHIELD information straight into the hands of Contessa. Of course, Zemo had taken an innocent, ‘accidental’ look at the confidential information, and deemed it useless enough to give to the woman. If it were anything that he found potentially dangerous, he would dispose of it immediately. Dry kindling could turn into a wildfire in Contessa’s hands, and that was the kind of risk he would never take.

“Stay calm. I will settle it quickly. The officers don’t want to make a big deal out of this either- we will be on our way soon,” he hissed to John as soon as he heard the crunch of boots on the tarmac.

Zemo rolled his window down to the silhouette of a heavily-clad soldier, who was covered head to toe in military gear. His eyes seemed to be narrowed, whether it was from suspicion or simply fatigue.

“有签证吗？” (Do you have a visa?)

“有。” (Yes.) Zemo reached into the compartment and retrieved the documents. The soldier took a quick look at them via the torchlight and passed it back to him. Then, tipping his chin at John- “他是你的朋友？” (Is he your friend?)

“他是我的老板。” (He's my boss.) Zemo struggled to recall the words for a moment. “我帮他翻译。” (I help him to translate.)

“对于游客来说，这时间挺早的。你们从卡拉库尔来的？” (This time of day is quite early for a tourist to be travelling. Are you coming from Karakul?)

Zemo blinked, processing the words. “可以…重复吗？” (Can you... repeat that?)

The guard sighed, then said slowly- “你们从，卡拉库尔，来? ” (You came, from, Karakul?)

The pieces slot into place in his head. 卡拉库尔 - Karakul. You… from… you came from Karakul.

“对，对。抱歉，我的华文不好。” (Yes, yes. Apologies, my mandarin isn't good.)

The guard laughed, but there was no condescension or meanness in it. “对于老外来说，发音挺好。” (For a foreigner, your pronunciation is pretty good.)

He continues, “好，好，谢谢。打扰你了。不多说了，你们走吧。” (Yes, yes, thank you. Sorry for the disturbance, you can go.)

Zemo, displaying the kindest smile he could, nodded and bade the man farewell. He turned off the lights in the car and smirked, knowing John could see it- This is how a professional works.

Another voice rang out, different from the one earlier. “先别走。” (Don't go yet.)

Zemo’s foot froze at the pedal. John’s expression was one of pure confusion and panic, his calmness now barely held together. Through the conversation earlier, Zemo had already sensed him vibrating with stagnant energy, and now it was manifesting in dangerous, careless ways. Zemo quickly reached out to touch John shoulder and calm him down- he's learnt that the other man responded best to physical contact, something he himself detested.

John’s wild gaze lifted to a point above his shoulder and lingered there.

The sharp rapping at the glass behind him are like bullets to his ears.

Zemo turns around, “为何…” (Why...)

His voice died in his throat. Standing there outside the car, equally shocked- Karlen Constantine.

Zemo could recognize that face anywhere. The rounded jaw, the brittle mouth, and that hateful, hateful look in his eyes.

The same look he gave when Zemo framed him for murder and left a two-million-dollar bounty on his head in Madripoor. Eight years ago.

Zemo takes quick stock of the situation. Judging by Constantine’s badges- high ranking. Heavily armed. A long, long road ahead of them. Walker has no shield, not yet. That was still in the process of being manufactured in Romania. Car chases weren’t an option. Evasion wasn’t an option. Anything other than negotiation would lead to their death. Zemo swallowed the saliva that rested heavily on his tongue.

“Karlen, please,” he says. John inhaled loudly behind him, he ignored it.

“You son of a bitch,” Karlen laughed gleefully. “Oh, this has made my day. I’m going to enjoy this.”

“What the fuck is going on, Zemo?” John snarled, ditching the pseudonym. He knew the game was up, the only question was how they were going to get out of this situation.

“Karlen, I’m invaluable to you,” Zemo continues carefully. His heart is pounding wildly in his chest, and it’s taking every iota of energy in him to keep his voice steady, to prevent the wave of panic from engulfing his mind. Any wrong word, any wrong move, and he would be dead within minutes. The car was bulletproof, but at such close range… with a shotgun, no less… Zemo knew the specs of the glass well, but he loathed taking risks. “I can-”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Karlen screamed, spittle hitting the glass. “Both of you, get the fuck out. Hands where I can see them. Slowly. Fucking do it slowly, or I’ll blow a hole in your leg.”

With steady breaths, Zemo complied. He could feel the adrenaline rushing up to his brain, reducing everything to a frantic pulsing in his muscles, the instinctual urge to run or fight. He got out of the car, hands raised to his shoulders, holding John’s gaze steady- don’t do anything rash. Follow my lead. And surprisingly, John did. He followed without a single word of protest, even though Zemo knew he was aching to throw a punch, to smash his fist into someone’s temple, or feel the satisfying recoil of a gun vibrating against his bones.

Zemo felt the cold barrel of a gun pressed between his eyes, at the same time that John jolted forward and cried, “No!”

“Don’t FUCKING move!” Karlen roared again, clicking off the safety. “Stay where you are or I’ll fucking kill him. Zemo, he answers to you, right? Tell him.”

Zemo glanced away to catch John’s horrified stare before his head was painfully yanked back by the roots of his hair. “Hey. Eyes on me. What did I say?”

“John, don’t move,” Zemo said slowly, grimacing as Karlen’s grip tightened.

“Now kneel.”

Zemo complied, breathing heavily. He could feel the fur of his jacket sticking to the back of his neck, and how hot his entire body felt, alight with energy. The aching of his scalp and knees had faded into a dull buzzing, overtaken by the hyperawareness of Karlen, his every movement, and Walker’s unyielding presence at his back.

As if sensing the same, Walker leaned forward carefully to place himself in Zemo's peripheral vision, discreet enough that Karlen wouldn't notice.

"Three years. Three years, I had to run and run and run. All because you stabbed me in the back, like the fucking coward you are. We were friends, but that didn't mean shit to you, did it? I'm glad your fucking wife and kids died. I hope they suffered. Oh yeah, I hope they screamed. I'm going to make this very painful for you too, Zemo."

Zemo's hands were trembling with the force of keeping them from Karlan's throat. It was taking everything he had to restrain himself. He tipped his chin up, looked straight into the matching pair of hateful eyes, and spat at Karlen's feet. "Fuck you."

It barely sounded like his own voice. The hate was thick sewer sludge, bubbling past the broken glass in his throat. A blinding burst of red splattered across his vision- Zemo flinched from the force at which the rage slammed into his mind. I will kill you. I will peel your skin from your bones, bit by bit. You're going to be screaming like a pig by the time I'm done. Constantine, you'll wish you were dead-

Karlen punched him so hard his entire body collapses to the side. Zemo tasted blood on his tongue, and god, it was pouring out of his nose. It wasn't broken, however- he turned his head just in time to prevent that. The lights look blurry- his eyes were watering.

Another kick connected with his stomach and Zemo cried out in pain, curling up into a ball.

Stop, stop, fucking stop, someone was shouting. When his head finally stopped ringing, he realised that it was John.

"You're friends with this guy?" Karlen laughed. "Oh, come on. He's just going to stab you in the back too. In fact, I'm sure he's already plotted multiple ways to kill you or fuck you up."

"He's tried," John laughed mirthlessly. His voice dropped into a low growl, a voice meant for spilling dirty little secrets- "Many, many times."

"And guess what, I'm still here. You aren't. A word of advice? Don't take yourself so seriously. You don't mean shit to him if you can't keep yourself around," John continued.

Zemo struggled to push himself back up, panting hard. He can't gather enough air to shout, stop talking. Those words laid like a brand against his skin, spelling out the name John Walker, a possessive claim.

I'm special, John Walker practically crowed.

And Zemo hated that he was right.

"If you like him so much, you can join him." Karlen laughed, raised his gun to John Walker, and fired.

He was fast.

John was faster.

The bullet buried itself harmlessly into the ground. The soldiers startle, reaching for their guns. One shot, Karlen's body dropped. The muffled thump launched Zemo's body into action. His fingers found a gun, and without blinking he whirled and pulled the trigger three times.

A few more shots rang out, and two more men are down.

Zemo swayed on his feet, but before he could collapse, there were strong arms around him, leading him to the car. He's shoved into it in a daze. John Walker entered through the other side, at the wheel.

"Shh. Shh. Hey. Hey, princess, look at me." A damp cloth was pressed into his hands, and he instinctively brought it up to his nose to staunch the bleeding. They're both breathing harshly from the fight. Gunpowder blue eyes stared back at him, brows furrowed. Light glanced off the mirror, staining John's hair a warm golden. Zemo was reminded of his vintage brass rulers, the beautiful old smell they had...

Wait. Light? He lifted his head to see the sunrise, then the time on the electronic clock. 6.05 AM. The tourist buses would be moving out soon, which meant-

"Drive," he whispered, and John kicked the car into high gear without a word.

"I'll text Contessa to put a roadblock on both sides and clear up the scene as quickly as possible. Once at Tashkurgan we'll leave the car, take the tourist bus, and blend in with the rest. I will arrange for Contessa to meet us earlier than was planned. When we arrive in Pakistan, we need to get past the border security. Even though we're compromised, this will not be risky. It's broad daylight and there are too many people at the border to cause a scene. The congestion will be in our favour. Clear?"

"Crystal."

"And the next time, I'll tell Contessa that travelling at night is a bad idea."

John frowned. "Hey, don't blame yourself. No one knew this was going to happen."

"We were nearly killed, John."

"Yeah, what's the big deal? Do you know how many times I've nearly been killed, Zemo? More than I could count. And trust me, this does not even come close." John laughs brightly. "We got outta there fine, yeah? Trust me. Not even close. It was a team effort."

Zemo looked down, and saw the slight quivering of his leg that John tried to hide. He dragged his eyes up to John's face, and recognised the tiny, near-imperceptible strain in his eyes... something you would not catch unless you were specifically looking for it.

You can be a really good liar if you tried, John.

"You're special to me, you know." the words came out in a rush, stumbling over one another. It sounded like a confession, and Zemo hated how it made his heart stutter, how his hands tingled, how the pain and the anger faded away into a schoolboy-nervousness.

The entire world, bottled down to a single response.

And he waited for an answer with bated breath, though he was uncertain of the question he had asked, if any at all.

My ending thoughts:

John Walker tells Zemo about love, like how a parent tells their child about the unobservable universe, about the untouched depths of the ocean, as if whispering: don't fear the unknown, for we'll explore it together.

Inspiration and images were taken from:

Zion National Park, United States (Utah)

Black Canyon of the Gunnison, United States (Colorado)

Trollstigen, Norway

Transfăgărășan road, Romania

Karakoram Highway, China-Pakistan

Images were taken from Google, not owned by me.

#walkerbaron #zemo #john walker #fatws #Spotify

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cordonian-literature · 3 years

Text

Forever Mine

chapter four

❦ summary — The time for Princess Riley to step into her role as queen fast approaches and finding the future king is Cordonia’s top priority. Commander Liam is aware of that, and has plans to make sure the princess ends up with someone suitable.

➺ chapter warnings: none

❦ catch up here!

➺ word count: (+/-) 1980

*all characters belong to Pixelberry, except those unique to my story*

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

When Leo had left Cordonia, he tried to leave all traces of his royal life behind as well. He bought a new wardrobe, everything from socks to sunglasses, leaving all of his suits in his chambers. Leo had bought a new phone and the only contacts were Riley, Bastien, Liam, and Drake. His father called him often, but he never saved the number.

And during the time he was gone, he avoided Cordonian news, too, wanting to remove himself and his mind from the nonsense that his father caused in European politics, or the lies that reporters felt they were free to tell.

So when he sees pictures of Riley and the King at the Regatta — Constantine smiling through a frown because of the sun while Riley’s grin made the photo seem brighter — he clicks on the article to read it, proud of his little sister and how she was handling the situation she was pushed into.

But Leo’s blood boiled the further he read. He wondered how these reporters had dared to write something like that about the princess when she had done nothing wrong. There were two paragraphs dedicated to praising Constantine for his declaration of war “for the protection of the Cordonian people, young and old, rich and poor” but Leo remembered that even Commander Liam had said it wasn’t a good idea.

Leo stops reading halfway through, on the verge of throwing his phone against the wall. He sends the link of the article to Drake and receives a phone call less than five seconds later.

“Just got done reading the same article,” says Drake when Leo answers the call. His voice, usually unbothered and calm, was now hinted with irritation and anger, just as Leo felt.

“I can’t imagine the effect this has on her,” Leo responds, beginning to pace the room. “I mean, you were there during the Derby, right? I mean, I didn’t mention it to her but did you see how panicked she gets around reporters? Goddamnit…” he runs his hands through his hair then walks to the mirror to fix it. “I can’t be the only one who notices that she looks away every time cameras come near her. She’s done that since she was a kid but—”

Leo stops talking when he hears the click of the end of the phone call and turns to see Drake enter the room.

Both men sigh and fall into a pit of silent anger, neither saying a word of what they were feeling. Leo saw the heat behind Drake’s eyes, and almost laughed to himself when Drake’s jaw clenched.

More out of curiosity and wanting to see just how Drake felt about Riley — but also feeling the brotherly need to see how she was doing — Leo suggests going to check on her.

“Sounds like a good idea,” Drake says, quickly standing from his seat and going to the door.

The men emerge from the room and walk down the hallway, taking a moment to adjust to the lack of light. When the walls are finally somewhat visible, Drake nudges Leo and jerks his chin forward: someone is walking ahead of them in the same direction.

A broad set of shoulders, tall build, blond hair, and military uniform: Leo instantly knows that it’s Liam. Drake looks at Leo for what they should do, but Leo simply shrugs, wanting to see where the man was going, hoping that he’d walk in another direction.

But three turns and a flight of stairs up later, they’re still walking in the same direction. The King’s Chambers were a long way off, causing Leo to wonder where Liam’s destination is. They’re currently in the hall where all the guests stay. A few more turns down would be Riley’s room, but before that is the library.

When Liam turns the corner and goes momentarily out of view, another set of footsteps can be heard from behind them. Drake gently pushes Leo towards the wall so that whoever it was couldn’t see them.

The person stops right next to them, and Drake nudges Leo to get behind a statue of his great-grandfather. Neither of them can tell who the person is, but both men’s hearts pound when the person knocks on the door.

“Who is bothering me this late at night?” an arrogant voice vibrates through the closed door, and Leo recognizes it as Neville’s.

He opens the door and light pools into the hallway, almost giving away Leo and Drake’s hiding spot, but they shift so that they are still in the shadows.

“Who are you?” Neville’s tone has an edge to it.

“Zoe Zacharias, at your service,” says a feminine voice. The name sounds familiar, but Leo isn’t sure he knows them. “I have been given a letter to delie—”

The sound of paper being snatched echos off the statue. “Who is it from?” Neville interrogates.

“That is not something I am allowed to disclose.”

Leo and Drake glance at each other, features not visible but their eyes are alight with confusion and curiosity.

Neville rips open the letter and unfolds it, holding it out in front of him to read. “Let’s see… hm… your participation in the Season is inappropriate, ha!” Neville raises his voice and laughs. “What nonsense is this?” He continues to read: “Years ago… partnership with Mister Golzine… association with his club and company… has been…” his voice lowers to below a whisper, and Leo can see Neville’s eyes widen with panic, “connected to… disappearance of twenty ad—”

Before finishing the sentence, Neville rips the paper and throws the remains at Zoe Zacharias’ face.

“You can rip the letter,” she says, shoving pieces of paper off her shoulder, “but you can’t get rid of the evidence. We’ve found videos and bank statements that all connect back to you. If this were to be leaked to the public, or to His Majesty, you would be—”

“Shut your mouth!” Neville gasps in an intense whisper. “Don’t! I don’t want to hear it! I’ve… I… It can’t be traced back to me! All I did was… I didn’t play a part in anything! This has nothing to do with the Social Season!”

“But it does,” the woman interjects, her face and posture still calm and collected; she had the high ground now, and Leo wanted to laugh at how the arrogance had melted off of Neville’s face, but he was too afraid to breathe. “If you need more proof, I can show it to you tomorrow along with His Majesty. The King would never allow such a scandal to disgrace the royal family or Cordonia.”

Through the light that the room provides, Leo can see that Neville has started sweating.

“All right!” Neville gasps. “What do you want? What do I have to give you to make you and your partners keep your mouths shut?”

Without hesitance, she states, “Your resignation as a suitor.”

Leo and Drake’s eyes go wide.

Neville takes deep breaths, visibly weighing the possibilities. Leo had hoped he would read the whole letter aloud. What exactly had Neville gotten caught up in? He didn’t want to know the details, but Leo imagined that there must have been something in the letter that could have unveiled the writer.

“Fine,” Neville finally utters. “I will leave in the morning.”

“That is wonderful to hear,” Zoe says. “No Cordonian shall hear of this, and we will make this information disappear.”

“Thank… you,” Neville breathes, the anguish and confusion still glossing his eyes. “Now if you’ll excuse me…”

“I understand, you probably have much to do before morning,” Zoe nods her head and smiles.

“Yes,” Neville stutters and closes the door, throwing the halls of the palace back into a pit of darkness.

Zoe’s footsteps can be heard retreating in the direction they all came from. Once she’s out of hearing range, Drake and Leo continue walking towards Riley’s room, the unease heavy between them.

They reach her room and knock on the door, but there’s no answer from the other side, and it seems like the lights are off, too. Drake checks the time to see that it’s a few minutes after midnight.

Not wanting to stand in the hallway for too long, Leo says, “We can check on her before breakfast, let’s go back.”

On their walk, they remain silent, eyes and ears alert in the case that there was someone else awake. When they’re back in Leo’s room and the doors are shut, their shoulders relax and they let out a sigh.

“Do you know who Zoe Zacharias is?” Leo asks.

“I think she’s a part of the King’s Guard,” Drake answers. “I haven’t seen or heard of her in a while though, I’m not sure.”

“She’s worked with Bastien?”

Drake shrugs, “I was introduced to her a few months back, and that’s what she said she was.”

Leo nods, beginning to pace again. She said she was a part of the King’s Guard, but had never worked with Bastien? There was no doubt she worked with the government, seeing that she had so much information on Neville.

“The only person who would have had the power or influence to do this is someone close to the king,” Leo states, unsure.

“It doesn’t make much sense. How do you know?” Drake asks.

Leo takes a moment to think, not having a solid answer to Drake’s question.

“Clearly,” Drake continues, “whoever sent that letter probably wanted to get rid of some competition.”

“Who would have wanted to do that?” Leo asks, feeling the pieces come together.

“It could have been Constantine,” Drake says. Leo’s father was easy to blame; the man wasn’t always diplomatic, and there was a high chance that such a corrupt man would try to shift the results of the season.

“Or,” Leo suggests, “it could have been Alexander.” Drake nods in agreement. “I imagine he has enough influence to get that information, and using it to get closer to Riley makes sense, too.”

“You’re right,” Drake says, even though neither man was confident.

The room falls into silence again, Leo and Drake’s minds racing for a better explanation with the lack of knowledge. If someone had wanted to get rid of Neville, why do it privately? Why not go to the King and have Constantine release this information?

“It’s late,” Drake says, patting Leo’s shoulder and pulling him away from his train of thought. “Get some sleep. We’ll have to keep an eye on Prince Alexander and Constantine. Maybe talk to Olivia and get her to help out.”

“Olivia?” Leo looks up at his friend and smirks. “Why Olivia?”

Drake frowns. “Why are you looking at me like that? I just mean that she’s good at this stuff.”

“Yeah, but there’s a whole bunch of other people we could ask.”

Drake rolls his eyes.

“We could ask Liam,” Leo begins to list jokingly. “Bastien, or even Miss Zoe Zacharias. Better yet, we could even catch Neville before he leaves in the morning and make him tell us everything.”

“I don’t want to ask Liam,” Drake says quickly, causing Leo’s eyebrows to jump up.

“Woah, man, I just suggested it, no need to get defensive.”

Drake sighs, and Leo throws his arm around Drake.

“Do you have something against Liam or is it…” he gives Drake a knowing look.

“No,” he says curtly.

Leo holds up his hands and walks back to his bed. “I was just asking,” he says, trying his best not to laugh.

Drake turns and opens the door, “I’ll see you in the morning, we can tell Riley what happened.”

“Sure,” Leo says as the door closes, though he makes a mental note to remember not to tell her. There was no reason to stress her out more. The less she knew about someone manipulating her decision, the better.

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a/n: sorry for not posting. lol i know i say this every time but life really do be getting in the way 😫i’m counting down the seconds until school ends so i can finally have some free time. anyway i know this is short but i hope yall enjoyed it!!

@twinkleallnight @gkittylove99 @sweatyrysconnoisseur @kingliam2019 @queenrileyrose @royalromancer @princess-geek @mom2000aggie @parkdoesthings @claireloutoo

#hey besties guess who's back from the dead 😼#trr fanfic #choices fanfic #liam x riley #the royal romance #the royal romance fanfic #liam rys #riley brooks

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jovialyouthmusic · 3 years

Text

A Lythikan Liaison

After the death of Jackson Walker, the young King’s Guardsman Bastien Lykel accompanies the Royal family to Lythikos in mid December.

Word Count 3517

Absolutely NS*W and NO UNDER 18s

Pairing; Bastein Lykel and OC

1 At a Loose End

Bastien Lykel stamped his feet to dislodge the packed snow from his boots as he entered the staff quarters at Lythikos Lodge. The Royal family was spending some time before Christmas in the duchy and taking young Olivia back to the Palace for the festivities. It meant half of the King’s guard, recently deprived of its popular captain, Jackson Walker, travelled with the King and his two sons. Bastien had been Jackson’s protege, and the new Captain had his own favourite, so his duties had diminished somewhat. Bianca, Drake and Savannah had remained at the Palace, as Bianca didn’t seem to have the will or desire to uproot the bereaved children from their home, despite the attractions of skating and building snowmen. To be truthful, it was dubious as to whether the family would stay in Cordonia, and Bastien thought it likely that they would return to Texas.

So he had leisure time that he barely knew how to spend, as his shift was over and Captain Parker had told him he wouldn’t be needed until the return journey. He wondered why he’d been brought along at all, knowing that his time would have been better spent supporting the Walker family. He suspected that Constantine wanted him to cut his ties with them in order to concentrate on his job. But if that was the case, Parker should be keeping him busy, not laying him off.

He sighed as he took his coat off and hung it where the snowflakes would evaporate in the warm air of the entrance hall. He went to the canteen and took a bowl of stew and a crust of warm bread to a table looking out over the frozen lake. A few of the Lodge staff were also eating their evening meal but left him alone, which suited him fine. The Lythikans knew how to make good hearty food, he’d give them that. He disliked their spiced drinks and the nog turned his stomach, but the red wine was robust and strong and the beer was tolerable in moderation.

He refused the hard spiced cookies that were handed out from table to table by a dour serving woman who leered at him and winked broadly, asking if he wanted someone to warm his bed for him or if he preferred a hot water bottle. Her tone made it plain that such a device was only for weaklings and children. He glared at her and replied he was perfectly capable of making his own arrangements and made his way to the bar, where a few of his fellow guards sat drinking. Lewis sat alone at a table at the edge of the room, able to see all that went on, as a good guard should. Bastien went over to join him, seeing his glass was almost empty.

‘Hey Bas, how are you holding up?’ Lewis asked. The two men had joined the Guard in the same intake, and had helped each other through some of the more arduous training exercises. Bastien had finished top of his year with Lewis a close second, and the two men had formed a strong bond.

‘I’d be just fine if Parker gave me more to do’ he grumbled ‘I’d far rather be working than told to go and relax.’ He eyed his companion’s glass of Skullcracker ale, making a resolution to have no more than two pints himself before he went back to his tiny room. He may not be working the next morning, but he could do without the crashing hangover Lythican alcohol gave him nonetheless.

‘Sleeping okay?’ Lewis knew that Bastien suffered flashbacks from the assassination attempt that had taken his mentor’s life. Bastien shrugged.

‘A little better’ he admitted ‘It’s too cold to get up and wander around so at least I stay in my bed until breakfast’

‘I wouldn’t admit the cold to the natives’ Lewis said in an undertone ‘They make them hardy out here. It’s only been a decade or so since they stopped putting newborns out in the snow to test how strong they are.’ Bastien snorted

‘It’s rumours like that which keep relations between Lythikos and the rest of Cordonia at an ‘us and them’ level.’ Lewis shook his head and drained his glass of ale.

‘Don’t look now, but those two over by the bar have been eyeing us up since you came in’ Lewis said with an almost imperceptible nod. As he had said, two women were looking in their direction, no subterfuge in their appraisal of the King’s men. They were both well built, one of them taller, close to Bastien’s six foot four inches and had pale skin and rich auburn hair.

‘I’ve already been offered a bed warmer, maybe I should take one of them up on it and get it over with’ Bastien mused.

‘You know what Lythicans are like, you’ll be in for a hard ride’ Lewis warned him. He handed his glass to Bastien, who stood up to go and order ale.

‘I’ve not much better to do’ he said ‘I should make the most of my down time’ He strode to the bar and put the glass down. The bartender raised his eyebrows at him.

‘Another pint of Skullcracker and whatever these two are having’ he nodded at the two women. The taller one held eye contact as she replied.

‘Are you sure you can handle that ale, King’s man?’ she asked ‘Most foreigners find just the one enough to send them to their knees’

‘Foreign? I’m Cordonian just like I presume you are’ he replied ‘Or are you claiming Lythikos is independent of the Crown?’ She frowned

‘Last I heard, Constantine insisted he’s King, and Duchess Lucretia hasn’t made a counter claim. Yet. And we call any non Lythican foreign, even if they come from the next village outside the duchy boundary.’ she replied acidly, but indicated to the barman that she’d accept Bastien’s offer. The other woman took two glasses of ale and went to join Lewis at his table.

‘So what part of Cordonia do you hail from, King’s man?’ she asked, as she took a healthy gulp of the ale that made Bastien hope he could match her without invoking the hangover.

‘My family comes from the capitol’ he said.

‘Oh yes, and what name do you go by?’

‘Lykel. Bastien Lykel’ She pursed her lips and nodded

‘A distinguished name. You might have a claim to the throne yourself if you can prove your lineage.’

‘Power doesn’t interest me’ he said, shaking his head ‘Attending banquets and balls and talking to trade delegates isn’t my idea of a fulfilling lifestyle’ He took a gulp of the thick ale. ‘I take it you’re Lythican?’

‘Naturally. The name’s Marcia. Marcia Wolfsbane’

‘That’s a fine surname too. Have you got links to the Nevrakis?’

‘Only in service, but then doesn’t most of the duchy?’

‘What do you do for a living?’ he asked curiously, and she laughed out loud, slapping her palm on the bar.

‘Can’t you tell? I’m in the same line of business as yourself. I’m part of the Lythican Guard. I saw you and your friend arrive with the Royal family’ She grinned at having bested him. Taking another swig from her glass, she nodded at him appraisingly, her gaze raking him from head to toe ‘You want to come back to my place and fuck?’ she asked. Bastien swiftly got over his chagrin at missing her occupation and gave her a slow smile. He liked directness, it left no room for misinterpretation and he was relieved that she wasn’t interested in drinking herself into a stupor. It had been a while since he’d had anything but brief encounters and wondered if this would be more than a one night stand. It wasn’t important, his job didn’t allow for romantic commitment although Lewis had a steady partner.

‘Sure, why not. Let me finish this first’ he replied.

------

Ten minutes later he found himself walking beside the tall woman along the narrow streets of the town that served the lodge and ski slopes. The Lythicans had found there was money to be made from winter sports in peace time and had spared no expense setting up resorts in the hills. Between the low log cabins the snow turned to slush underfoot and he was thankful for his good leather boots and thick socks that kept out the cold and wet.

‘You do realise that a couple of decades ago you wouldn’t have dared to be alone with the likes of me?’ she pointed out ‘Thank goodness for peacetime’

‘I like to think I’m a good judge of character’ he replied. ‘It’s my job to assess dangerous situations’ They trudged on for a while, passing other Lythicans walking to and fro in the darkening early evening.

‘Is it true you use those new tracking devices to keep tabs on each other?’ she asked curiously.

‘I wouldn’t tell you if we did.’ He said shortly. She turned down a dim side street which struck him as the sort of place that unwary travellers might be lured before being relieved of their valuables. Warily he scanned the shadows for lurkers as she strode on.

‘My home’s just down here, King’s man. I share the cabin with my friend back at the bar when we’re off the duty rotation. She’ll leave us alone for the night so you won’t have to worry about disturbing anyone.’

‘Does that depend on the willingness of my partner?’ he asked ‘He’s in a relationship, I’m not sure that he’ll bite’ Marcia shrugged as she stopped at one of the almost identical cabins and put her hand to the door. Bastien noted that it wasn’t locked, a sign either that there was no crime in the town, or that nobody would dare take anything from the occupants.

‘She’ll find someone or somewhere else’ The door swung open and she beckoned him in. ‘Boots off’ she ordered. Bastien bent to unfasten them and left them by the door next to hers and shrugged off his thick coat. The cabin was cool and smelled of spice and pine. She had already hung up her own coat and disappeared through a door off the lobby. He followed to find her kneeling by a wood burner setting a match to it. It took easily and the room was soon warming up.

‘You’ll take a hot drink?’ she asked

‘Only if it’s not spiced’ he replied ‘I prefer my drinks plain.’ She laughed

‘You’re missing out, King’s man’ she exclaimed ‘They warm the blood and heighten the senses’

‘No good if my stomach’s turned’ he said sourly ‘A nip of whiskey does the job very nicely’

‘In that case, hot chocolate with a dash of brandy. No spice’

‘That would be very welcome’ She disappeared, and he took stock of the room. He knew that the town was relatively new, extended to service the ski slopes, and the few traditional buildings were at the centre of the town, and here on the outskirts the buildings were less than five years old. The cabin walls were of dark logs that gave a sense of warmth, and the check curtains were thick and heavy. The furniture was mostly dark stained pine, modern but utilitarian. The couch and chairs were draped in woollen throws, the wooden floor augmented by thick rugs. Red was the predominant colour with accents of green and splashes of golden yellow. Shelves held books and trophies, and he went closer to examine the gleaming silver. Marcia re entered the room with two mugs. He turned to take his, nodding toward the trophies.

‘You have a lot of awards for markmanship’ he observed. She shrugged as he blew on his mug to cool the hot chocolate, plain as she had promised with no scent of spice and no cream, but an aroma of good brandy rose to his nostrils. He took a sip and felt it beginning to warm him from the inside.

‘I have plenty of time to practice, and the hunting in the woods is good’ She put her drink down and took the hem of her woollen jumper, pulling it up off and throwing it onto the couch, with a sigh that indicated that she was hot. She still wore a simple blouse and under vest and was well built, solid and muscular but with enough womanly curves to stir his desire. He knew Lythicans were hot blooded and very active in the bedroom with a casual attitude toward the number of partners they had at any one time, so he had come prepared with protection. Nonetheless, he had a question for her.

‘Are you currently in a relationship?’ he asked. She looked at him over her cup, her piercing blue eyes locking with his grey.

‘Only with my housemate. Are you?’

‘No, but I don’t want to cause any conflict’

‘You won’t’ she said ‘There’s nothing complicated about this unless you want it to be’

‘No, simple suits me just fine’ She put her cup down and moved closer.

‘You have milk on your moustache’ she said huskily, and leaned in to suck at his top lip. He groped to put his mug down on the table next to him, returning the kiss and putting his hand to the back of her neck.

‘Your hair is too long’ she said, reaching up to his forehead, but he gripped her wrist before she could touch it. She bit her lip ‘Someone could twist their fingers into it and control you’ Bastien realised with a flash why all the Lythican guard, male and female, had short cropped hair. He took a pride in his appearance, and his raven black hair was his weakness, always glossy and impeccably styled.

‘They’d have to get close enough to start with, and a good wrist lock would solve the problem even then’ He twisted her wrist to demonstrate, just until he saw her grimace, and let go. She knew her stuff, and it was refreshing to connect with someone so tuned in to his own profession. Truth be told, it was more of a lifestyle than a job. He hoped they could trade work experiences without compromising any confidential information.

But at that moment there was something more primal at hand, something basic and physical that stirred and aroused him. He was always holding himself back, keeping something in reserve, and he guessed that he could let go with her, be himself in a way he couldn’t with anyone else he’d encountered so far. She pushed him back and they stumbled to the couch. A split second decision allowed her to push him down and follow so that she was straddling him, triggering his arousal as her thighs clamped to his. Again she reached for his hair and he countered, pinning her wrists behind her back. Still she surged forward, her breasts pressing to his chest, her lips crashing to his. She lost her balance, allowing him to pivot so that she was the one sitting on the couch. He braced his knee between her thighs, letting go of her wrists. She put her palms to his chest, keeping him from leaning in to claim her lips.

‘One of us has to yield’ he panted.

‘The stronger the fight, the sweeter the surrender’ she growled, and bucked forward pushing him onto the floor. He landed on his back, the thick woollen rug cushioning his fall as she followed him down. He fought back, and they rolled around on the floor, neither giving in until they paused, both panting with exertion, Bastien on top but bracing his weight off her, elbows locked.

He straddled her, pinning her hips down and straightened up to take his sweater and shirt off, warmed through at last from their battle for supremacy. Her eyes blackened as she gazed at his broad muscled chest and flat abdomen scattered with dark hair. Again she bucked and threw him off, mirroring his effort by pinning him to the floor and stripping to the waist before falling on him and delivering scorching kisses and little nips along his neck to his shoulder. Her breasts were small and firm despite her stature, her belly soft but flat, and he was hard between her thighs. They rolled around the floor managing somehow to assist each other to strip naked and end up side by side, her thigh thrown over his hip, breathing hard. She reached down to judge his size with fingers and palm, and a slow smile spread across her face.

‘You are big in every way, Bastien Lykel.’ she murmured appreciatively. ‘I knew there was something about you worth pursuing’ Despite the woollen rugs and the heat of the wood burner the floor was hard and cold and he was grateful as she rose and pulled him to his feet, guiding him with purposeful stride to her bedroom. It was cool but she threw back the bedclothes to drag him on top of her, sinking into the firm mattress and spreading her thighs for him. She rose to sink her teeth into his shoulder and clawed at his back. With an inhuman effort he drew back from her, not quite lost yet.

‘I have – we need protection’ he panted.

‘In the bedside drawer’ she groaned ‘Hurry, I’ve not bedded a man for months’ He fumbled in the drawer and found a foil packet, tearing it open and hoping it was large enough for his girth. He was in luck, and rolled the rubber sheath over his length without discomfort. She pushed him over onto his back and mounted him like an animal, pressing her sex to him before guiding him where she needed him and he placed his hands on her hips, trusting that she knew what she was letting herself in for. She groaned as she started to lower herself onto him, alarmingly tight, but she was wet and the noises she made assured him that pain and pleasure were inseparable for her.

Soon she sat flush to him and rolled her hips, rising up above him and throwing her head back with a guttural cry before leaning forward to bury her face in his between his neck and shoulder, sucking and biting. What they did in that bed bordered on fighting as they wrestled for dominance, rolling over, tangling in the bedclothes, settling into a fierce steady rhythm that challenged the strength of the bedframe. Bastien realised that she could take anything he gave her, and savagely thrust into her willing flesh, pinning her hands above her head until she arched her back and gave out a loud ululating cry. He felt her pulse around him, and with a roar he followed her over the edge until they lay spent and panting, and he rolled off her to the side.

‘Are you sure you’re not from Lythikos?’ she panted as he cleaned himself up.

‘I may have some ancestors somewhere along the line’ he remarked. He went to the bedroom door.

‘You can stay the night if you like’ she said from the tangle of bedclothes. He paused in thought. He could remember his way back to his billet but was reluctant to dress and go out into the cold.

‘That’s generous of you. I need to get my clothes and fold them’ When he returned, she had straightened the blankets and thrown them back for him, a naked leg uncovered. He got in and lay on his back. He wasn’t a cuddler and the bed was wide. She seemed to understand, and curled into herself on her side of the bed.

‘When are you on duty?’ she asked

‘Not until we leave’ he replied ‘My superior seems to think I need down time, but I’d rather be busy’

‘I heard about Walker’ she replied, and he gritted his teeth.

‘I was there’ he said shortly, feeling himself tense at the memory.

‘He sounded like a good man. I never met him’

‘And you never will’ he turned his back to her.

‘I’m sorry for your loss’ she said quietly. ‘That was insensitive of me.’ He snorted, biting back resentful words. He felt her hand on his shoulder. ‘I’m off duty tomorrow as well. If you like, you could come hunting with me’ Her hand fell away. ‘If you look outside the back you’ll see the green and the communal cookfire. All the cabins that back onto it contribute – either with meat or vegetables, or by cooking. I need to make my donation’

‘I’ll think about it’ He was tired – tired of the flashbacks, tired of grieving, tired of worrying about the Walker family, and now from the physical exertion he had just undergone. He felt the comfortable glow of his release, and that and the brandy lured him closer to the edge of sleep. He felt his eyelids grow heavy. His companion was silent, and he surrendered to the dark comfort of slumber.

@sirbeepsalot @stopforamoment @drakesensworld @katedrakeohd @texaskitten30 @be-still-my-aching-heart @hopefulmoonobject @dcbbw @classylady1234 @rainbowsinthestorm @kimmiedoo5 @bascmve01 @ibldw-main @addictedtodrakefanfic @trappedinfandoms @fluffyfirewhiskey @kingliam2019 @bobasheebaby @marshmallowsaremyfavorite

#bastien lykel #Bastien x OC #trr bastien #lythikos

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