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nolanell · 3 years

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Apartment 9: Writer Wednesday September 8th 2021

Writer Wednesday: @autumnleaves1991-blog and @clydesducktape

Pairing: Maxwell Lord (WW84) x Female Reader

Length: 2.8K

Warnings: Mention of divorce, being a single parent, brief consideration of being a woman alone in a big city. A lot of this takes place in a lift. Allusion to an age gap (not a big one, and reader is of age). Aside from being female and other characters describing her as pretty, there are no other descriptors of the reader. There is one kiss described, but no other physical intimacy.

Author's Note: My first ever Writer Wednesday submission! I hope you enjoy. I have read a few soft and fluffy things for Max Lord recently and he's just been in my head. Inspiration struck me with this week's prompt and I just went with it!

You didn’t know much about the man who lived down the hall. What you did know, you didn’t know if you could fully believe as a lot of it was snippets of lift gossip you had heard as you went to and from your apartment to the ground floor. That didn’t seem reliable, or like it would be particularly kind in the way it painted a picture. But if this gossip was to be believed, he had recently lost everything except his son, who he loved dearly. Essentially, he had made some bad decisions and was now paying for them.

You hadn’t seen him in person yourself until he had been there about six months. It so happened he was running for the lift and you held the door for him. You didn’t know who he was at first.

‘Thank you,’ he smiled softly as he stepped in.

You smiled back.

‘Have you… have you lived here long?’ he asked.

You turned to him and raised an eyebrow. There wasn’t anything inherently wrong with the question, but you couldn’t be too careful, a woman living on your own in the big city.

‘I- I just meant I’ve been here six months and we’ve not met before,’ he explained.

You softened a little bit. Whoever this was, was just trying to be friendly. ‘Two years, nearly,’ you replied.

The lift door dinged as you reached the ground floor. He motioned for you to go first. You paused a second, a little taken aback at his politeness, but walked out of the lift, turning around to face it once you came out. He stepped out after you, not quite sure what to do given you had stopped. He stuffed his hands in his pockets.

‘You live on the eighth floor too?’ you asked, a little surprised.

‘I do,’ he nodded. ‘Number 11.’

‘Number 9,’ you pointed toward yourself.

‘Wow, practically neighbours for half a year and we’ve only just met!’ he laughed. He had a genuine smile, but his laugh seemed a bit restrained, a bit guarded.

You couldn’t help but break into a big smile at the absurdity of it. ‘Right? How crazy!’

He seemed to perk up a bit at your smile; seemed to stand a bit straighter, his smile starting to reach his eyes a bit more. He pushed his floppy, blondish-brownish hair out of his eyes and smiled again.

‘I’m Max,’ he offered his hand. ‘Nice to meet you.’

You offered your hand in return and gave your name. ‘Nice to meet you too, Max.’

‘I’ve got to get going, I’m picking up my son,’ Max said, moving toward the exit.

‘Where from?’ you asked. Couldn’t be school at 10am on a Saturday.

‘From his mum,’ Max explained. ‘I get to see him this weekend.’ The smile on Max’s face showed just how happy he was about it. It was a much more genuine smile this time, and very infectious.

‘I won’t keep you then,’ you smiled back, moving to catch up to him. ‘Have a lovely time together.’

‘Thank you,’ Max was still smiling and this one had reached his eyes fully; he looked genuinely pleased at your remark. ‘Have a good rest of the day yourself.’

You parted ways as your came out of the apartment building. He seemed pleasant enough. Just a single dad, clearly loved his son, trying to get by, as far as you could tell. And after all, wasn’t everyone in the building just trying to get by? And if the lift gossip was true, was that really your business, or anyone else’s, for that matter? Max seemed nice enough to want to say hello to, and hold the lift door for again.

You didn’t see him again for a couple of days, and this time you were both waiting for the lift to arrive. After exchanging the standard ‘hello’, the silence was a little difficult; you weren’t one for inane small talk. Out of the corner of your eye you could see Max stuffing his hands in his pockets and staring at his feet. He looked… nervous?

Come on, you must be able to think of something.

‘How was your time with your son?’ you asked, glancing over at Max.

He looked relieved that you had said something. ‘It was great, thank you,’ he smiled. ‘How have you been?’

‘Not too bad,’ you gave what you hoped was not a tired smile. ‘Just trying to get by.’

Max nodded. ‘I hear that,’ he agreed. ‘Just one foot in front of the other, it feels like some days.’

The lift dinged and the doors opened. Max motioned for you to go first again. ‘To the ground?’ he asked as he went to hit the floor button.

You nodded. ‘Are you seeing your son again today?’

‘No,’ Max said, more than a hint of sadness in his voice. ‘Just out for a walk and a coffee.’

‘There’s a great place round the corner from here, if you haven’t already been. Maria’s?’ you furrowed your brow trying to remember the name.

‘I think I’ve walked past it,’ Max nodded. ‘I’ll check it out. Anything exciting planned for you today?’

You shook your head and laughed. ‘I wish. Just errands.’

‘Never ends, does it?’ Max agreed.

The lift doors opened and again Max motioned for you to go first. As you left the building, Max wished you a nice rest of the day and that he would see you later. You smiled and nodded. You only had two interactions lasting less than five minutes, but Max seemed much nicer than the lift gossip suggested. Which is exactly why you tended not to not give it any credit. At least next time you had something to ask about; whether he tried the coffee at Maria’s, and what did he think of it. You found yourself hoping you saw him again fairly soon; it was nice to have someone to talk to who didn’t just want to gossip about the building residents. Or was it that he was kind of cute? Sure, he was a little older than you, but the way his hair flopped forward when he looked down was adorable. He had a nice smile too. But, you reminded yourself, he was just trying to get by, one foot in front of the other.

But weren’t you, too?

You didn’t see Max for a few days after that and even then, only very briefly. You were coming out of the lift having come up, as he was waiting for it to go down. There was a boy with him you assumed was his son; there wasn’t a huge resemblance, so you assumed he must look more like his mum.

‘Hello Max,’ you greeted him as you stepped out.

‘Hello,’ he smiled at you. ‘I’m so sorry, we’re in a bit of a rush.’

‘Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll hold the lift for you soon,’ you smirked over your shoulder as you walked to your door. You heard the lift doors close behind you, but not before you heard a chuckle from Max and a young voice ask ‘Dad, who is that?’. So you’d finally met Max’s son, sort of.

You did in fact hold the lift for Max a couple of days later, but on the way up this time. He was carrying a couple of grocery bags and smiled at you over the top of them.

‘Thank you,’ he said as he tried to hold the bags without anything slipping out.

‘Told you I would hold the door for you soon,’ you laughed softly. ‘Can I give you a hand?’

‘Would you mind?’ Max looked relieved. ‘Only if you’re sure, I wouldn’t want to impose.’ You motioned with your hands to pass you one and took the one in his left arm from him.

‘How was the coffee at Maria’s? Did you go in the end?’ you asked, once you were sure the grocery bag was secure.

‘I did, it was lovely,’ Max smiled. ‘Definitely one of the best I’ve had since I got here.’

‘It’s my favourite,’ you agreed. ‘Oooh, and it’s nice to see your son has your curiosity.’

Max blinked at you and looked genuinely confused. ‘I’m sorry?’

‘A few days ago, you were in a hurry as I was coming out the lift? He asked who was that as you got in?’ you explained.

‘Oh! Sorry, yes, I’d almost forgotten,’ he said as recognition crawled across his face. ‘I keep telling him to use his indoor voice. He does keep me on my toes.’

The lift doors dinged, and before stepping out you asked Max if he’d like some help carrying them to his apartment.

‘If you’d hold on to it while I get the door open, that would be wonderful,’ he said, motioning for you to leave the lift first. He followed you as you stepped out and nodded in the direction of his apartment door.

As you got to Max’s door, you were standing either side of the door itself, facing each other as Max fumbled in his pockets for his keys. This was the first time you’d properly looked at him, and you found yourself picking up details you’d not noticed before. His floppy blondish-brownish hair flicked down toward his eyes, that you’d seen before, but you hadn’t noticed how beautiful his deep brown eyes were, and you hadn’t taken in his gorgeous golden skin, and the size of his hands on the grocery bag…

Girl, get it together. This poor guy is probably reeling from who knows what, given he is a dad not living with his son he very clearly loves, and describes living as one foot in front of the other. He does not need you looking at him like that.

You heard Max say something.

‘Sorry, what was that?’ you ask.

‘I… I said thank you so much for helping,’ Max said, his skin a little pink.

His front door was open. He’d found his keys and opened the door while you’d been gawking at him. Your cheeks burned slightly at the thought he might have noticed.

‘Oh! It’s no trouble,’ you smile. ‘Want me to bring this in?’ You raised the bag you were still holding.

‘No, don’t worry, I’ve got it from here,’ Max chuckled. He seemed to be avoiding your gaze.

You straightened up and smiled again as you passed the bag over. ‘Okay, I’ll leave you to it. See you later, Max!’

‘See you later,’ Max replied, as you were already walking back to your own door.

Later turned out to be a couple of days later, and again you met Max going up in the lift. He had his son with him again.

‘This is Alistair,’ Max beamed proudly, after introducing you to his son.

You knelt down, and smiled at Max’s son. ‘It’s nice to meet you, Alistair,’ you hold your hand out.

‘You too!’ he smiles in that adorable, excited way most children do, and shakes your hand.

You stand back up again as the lift dings and you all get in, Max holding Alistair back as he lets you go first again. In the lift, Alistair presses the button for the eighth floor, and looks up at you.

‘Can I press the button for you?’ he asks.

‘You already have,’ you smile down at him. ‘I live on the same floor as your dad.’

Alistair smiles. He gets this expression on his face you can’t place. You don’t dwell on it as you hurriedly try to think of small talk; what can you ask that doesn’t ignore one or the other? Then it hits you.

‘Alistair, has your dad taken you to Maria’s?’ you ask him, a smile teasing at the corners of your mouth.

‘The coffee shop?’ Alistair looks at you, confused, as you nod. ‘No, he says coffee is for grown ups,’ Alistair rolls his eyes.

‘That’s true, but you know what? Maria’s also does amazing milkshakes,’ you grin as you look at Max. He smiles at you.

‘Ooooh,’ Alistair gasps.

The lift dings. Max motions for you to go first. You step out and kneel down to Alistair again. ‘It was nice meeting you, Alistair. See you soon?’

Alistair nods with a smile. You stand up and smile at Max ‘I’ll see you soon,’ you say as you walk toward your door.

‘Dad, is that the pretty lady from number 9?’ you hear Alistair’s voice, and you’re glad you’re walking away as your face flushes red.

‘Indoor voice, please, Alistair,’ you hear Max sigh, as their footsteps move away from you.

You’re beginning to think Max is avoiding you. It’s been almost a week since you met Alistair and you’ve not seen him. You’re standing in the lift waiting for it to start moving, staring at your shoes, as you hear someone get in. Your eyes flick up for a second and you see Max standing in the lift with you.

The lift doors close and it begins descending.

For the first time, you actually feel like there is an awkward silence between you two. You dare another glance at Max and he is doing the same as you, staring at his shoes. That gorgeous hair has flipped forward again, hands stuffed into his pockets…

You clear your throat. ‘Do you normally tell Alistair about all the pretty ladies you see?’

Max’s head whips round to you, so fast your surprised he’s not given himself whiplash. ‘I’m… I’m really sorry if I made you uncomfortable.’

You smile kindly at Max. ‘Not at all,’ you reply. ‘But that’s not what I asked,’ your expression turns into something of a mischievous grin.

Max blushes. Those stunning eyes meet yours. ‘I… I told him… well, you’re the only one I’ve ever mentioned.’

It was your turn to flush red. ‘Really?’

Max nods as the lift dings for the ground floor, and gestures for you to go first. ‘And even then, it was his idea.’

‘What?’ you ask, confused.

Max looks at the floor, smiling nervously. ‘Remember when we were on our way down, when we were in a rush? Well, he asked who you were, as you heard, and I explained you lived at number 9 and we got the lift together sometimes.’

You nod, waiting for him to continue.

‘And Alistair really does keep me on my toes because he said you were really pretty, and I agreed. And of course he decides to remember that at the point it would cause the most embarrassment,’ Max sighs, risking a glance over to you.

‘I think it was more the lack of indoor voice that was the problem,’ you giggle.

Max laughs, another genuine one that reaches his eyes, and he nods in agreement. ‘It certainly was,’ he smiles, a sweet little dimple emerging on one side of his face. He was so cute, and you were starting to think he had absolutely no idea.

You both stood there for a few seconds in silence, not really knowing what to do next but also not really wanting to end the encounter.

‘Where are you off to?’ Max asks you.

‘Nothing too exciting, just a walk and then coffee at Maria’s,’ you reply.

‘What a coincidence,’ Max smiles. ‘Would you mind if I join you?’

‘Of course,’ you nod. ‘Who would turn down the gorgeous guy from number 11?’

Max flushes red. ‘I don’t know about that. But I’m glad the pretty lady from number 9 wouldn’t.’

Damn, he really had no idea how cute he was, did he?

As you step out of the building, Max offers you his arm, and you loop yours through it as you walk down the steps from the entrance. You pause at the bottom, smile and gaze into those incredible dark brown eyes. Before you know where you are, your lips are on his and you’re running your hands through his hair, curling your fingers at the back of his neck. His lips are impossibly soft, his hands finding their way to your waist, holding you close to him. His tongue gently brushes against your lips, seeking permission, and you are all too happy to grant it. He’s gentle, almost hesitant at first, but his kiss deepens into something so passionate you’re glad he’s holding your waist, as he’s making you weak at the knees.

Eventually you pull back, breathless, giddy, smiling. ‘Wow,’ is all you can offer.

Max smiles and blushes for about the third time in five minutes. ‘Wow indeed,’ he agrees. ‘Come on, let’s go and get a coffee and you can tell me about this gorgeous guy at number 11.’

You roll your eyes, loop your arm in his and start walking. ‘Sure thing, but only if there’s more of those kisses in it for me,’ you tease.

#writer wednesday #max lord fanfic #max lord x you #maxwell lord x reader #maxwell lord fluff #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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damianosismyking · 3 years

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Roommate

READ IT ON AO3.

Damen and Laurent first met when Laurent was sixteen years old.

He arrived at Damen's apartment too late for it to be considered appropriate or polite on any day, but the fact it was Sunday made everything worse.

Damen had been announcing his vacant room for the best part of the past three months since Nikandros moved out to live with his girlfriend but the response he’s gotten so far was underwhelming, to say the least. It made sense to him: his apartment was too far away from the university for it to be comfortable or spark real interest among tired, overloaded, low-income students with huge debts and likely no car. He had thought, though, that it would spark some interest. It was a constant theme in the conversations he had with Nikandros these days – which always ended up with Nikandros telling him he should just learn how to live with himself anyway, and Damen telling him there was no way he’d do it.

Still, Damen was less than thrilled to be surprised after a long day of sitting in front of thousands of books and twice as many academic papers gathering the ‘solid foundation’ his thesis lacked – in Professor Haemon’s words – by an unsolicited visitor. Damen’s eyes burned, his head pounded, and he longed for nothing more than to open a beer and mindlessly watch the documentary about whales that was on. A call to his intercom had different plans.

It felt like his brain had melted down his ears for when the doorman informed him that his friend, Laurent, whom he never met, had come to talk to him about his rental room, Damen allowed said guy up without a thought to the risks it entailed until after the call was cut.

Damen was left to hope there wasn’t a gun involved and whoever the man was, Damen could take him on a hand-to-hand fight if it came to it.

A kid showed up. Pink across the face, the only uncovered part of him. A few strands of blond hair escaped his beany, moving along the puff of his breath. He strutted inside uninvited the second Damen saw to the door, with the highest nose Damen has ever seen and scorn that did not match his angelic features.

Lazily, the kid – Laurent, his name – said, “I saw you need a new roommate.”

“And you are?”

“Your new roommate.”

“I meant –” Laurent went ahead and took off his coat, as well as his beany, that he tossed over Damen’s diner table. His blond hair shoulder-length and seemingly soft directly under the light, framed his face in waves. It gave him an almost feminine quality, if not for the sharpness of his cheekbones and jaw. “I meant have we met before?”

“No. But we have now. I’m Laurent.” He held out his hand. Damen shook it. “And you are Damianos. I go to U.M., you go to U.M. You have a room to rent, I have interest in renting a room. See? We are practically best friends already.”

He sported a young prince demeanor with long, pale fingers laced in front of his body. It was fitting, like the thought of such person being raised in a castle surrounded by luxury and used to having his way his whole life simply made sense. As for his expression: there was none. Laurent’s eyes were a rich blue but carried no warmth in them, unyielding. His gaze never averted Damen’s. It felt like staring at a blank wall.

Damen crossed his arms over his chest, unsure what to do with his hands and everything that currently unfolded in front of him. The carelessness in Laurent’s composure, or maybe the sheer audacity of him, rubbed Damen the wrong way. Under the incisive glare, Damen resisted a shiver.

Damen said, “You notice it’s almost 11 P.M. on a Sunday, don’t you, best friend?”

Laurent leaned against the dining table as though it belonged to him. Would it be acceptable to bodily drag Laurent out of the apartment after being the one to give him the pass to come up in the first place? Laurent appeared painfully young too, so that might be aggravating.

“You put on your flyer you were open to visitation anytime,” Laurent retorted. It started to bother Damen how rarely he blinked. Blank wall.

“I also put on my flyer my contact info to prevent strangers from appearing unannounced at my doorstep,” Damen paused. “On a Sunday. At night.”

“And yet here I am. Your security is horrible by the way, you should probably complain about that to the apartment manager,” Laurent drawled. That alone disqualified him to the vacancy, let aside the fact he passed for a spoiled high schooler with no hint of courtesy.

“So? Aren’t you going to interview me? I make a terrific roommate. I know how to cook and keep a house clean; I stay out of everyone’s business and in change expect everyone out of mine. I’m the most pleasant company you can get around that campus, I guarantee.”

Laurent waited and as he did so, he grabbed one of the decorative glass balls from a bowl on the table and rolled it between his hands mindlessly. When Damen gave no response, he continued, “I’m a bit of a genius, so that might interest you in case you need help with schoolwork or anything else.”

Damen stared at him. It was impossible the kid wouldn’t take the hint. All he had to do was look around, at the scattered materials, Damen’s sleeping clothes, the beer sweating the couch’s fabric, the clock marking 11 p.m. Laurent made a show of standing spitefully where he wasn’t welcomed and it either didn’t bother him or he purposefully ignored it.

“I’m also a good fuck. In case that might interest you.”

It startled Damen out of his enraged disbelief. Not that he magically came up with something to say. “I’m – I – don’t… You’re missing the point.”

“And what is that?”

“I have no idea who the fuck you are, and honestly, you’re not causing a great impression so far.”

“That comes with time.” Laurent waved him off. He wandered around the living room, accessing the quality of his surroundings. Ran a hand over Damen’s TV stand, grabbed portraits to analyze from up close, shuffled through a stack of magazines, opened the window to take a look at the view, and finally settled on the couch where he bounced, testing. Grabbed the remote, shifted through channels. Damen let it unfold only partially out of astonishment – part of him also wondered how far Laurent would go.

“It’s your turn,” Laurent said eerily, like haunted wind coming through the window.

“My turn to what?”

“Introduce yourself, of course. How am I supposed to know you’re not a pervert?” he added, plainly. “Already have enough of those in my life.”

Damen was baffled. It took him a second to find his voice. “I am going to have to ask you to leave.”

Laurent turned to him, pale brows arched. “But you didn’t interview me yet.”

“I don’t intend to. Please leave. Now.” Damen marched to the door to hold it open.

“But –” Laurent stood. Damen could almost see the engines in his mind turning. “Look. I can offer you a blowjob to change your mind. Anything more than that only if you promise I can stay.”

“What are – I do not want to have sex with you,” Damen said, exasperated. Why was this happening to him? Was this what he got after working so hard?

“Why not?” Laurent spoke as if something was out of sorts. “Let me guess, you are straight. I promise you won’t note the difference, it’s like any girl’s mouth when it’s on your cock. I’m highly skilled.”

Damen opened the door wider and gestured. “Out.”

Laurent crossed his arms and made no motion to leave. Very deliberately he leaned against the armrest. “I don’t have a gag reflex, I can take you all the way in,” he spoke with an empty face, “and I swallow, don’t spit.” At the end, he smirked mildly.

Damen flinched. “I will call security.”

“No? Okay.” Laurent leaned on his hands, propping his shoulders up. “Money’s no issue. I can offer you two months of rent in advance.”

“I need you to get the hell out before I make you,” Damen spelled out.

“Fine. Three. But this is my final offer, you have to give me something to work with here.” For how playful Laurent’s words rang, he maintained his monotone. His face couldn’t be more uninterested, without the slightest semblant of shyness.

Damen didn’t respond. Again, he gestured the outside.

Laurent sighed, as if it was Damen tiring him, not the other way around. Perhaps the biggest absurd among all others. Damen might be virtually opposed to hitting kids, but Laurent just might be the exception.

Laurent did not pick up any of his belongings, as required. Rather, he walked to Damen confidently, if slightly bored. The sway of his hips seemed very deliberate as he tied his hair on a ponytail, eyes never dropping Damen’s. His eyes carried deeper richness to the blue of his irises from this close, but somehow were even colder. He stopped few inches away from Damen. If they were the same height, their noses would bump, but as Damen had at least one foot of advantage to him, Laurent’s breath tickled his collar bone.

And then suddenly, unexpectedly, Laurent dropped to his knees, reaching for the ties on Damen’s sweatpants.

“What the fuck.” Damen slapped Laurent’s hands away. Laurent swayed taken aback and retreated, confused. “Stand up,” Damen demanded, “Stand!” at the verge of yelling.

Damen’s stomach had sunk to his feet. Other than the cameras in the corridor, there were no witnesses to what happened. Laurent remained where he was, sitting back on his heels and giving Damen huge icy eyes, through obscenely long lashes as blond as his hair, blooming cheeks, and beautifully plump pink lips. “Please, get up and leave. I won’t ask again.”

Laurent felt the wall behind him to help himself up. “I want to stay.” His voice was no longer a drawl then. It had a hint of raw desperation that had not been there before.

Damen shook his head. “That’s too bad kid.”

“I’m not a kid,” he barked, words lacking the previous indifference. “Let me stay.”

“No.”

“Please.”

A beat passed. A long ‘hear-the-ticks-on-the-clock-slow-down’ kind of beat. Laurent’s stance remained mighty and unshakable, searching Damen’s face.

“How old are you?” Damen asked and again when Laurent refused to respond.

As Damen pressed further, he finally said, through gritted teeth, “Sixteen.” In spite of the aversion for the word, Laurent expression was challenging, daring Damen to say anything about it.

Damen did. “Sixteen. You can’t just get to a stranger’s house, impose on them, and expect to be welcomed,” he said, “that’s not how these things work. Kid.”

Laurent went paler a shade, previously rosy cheeks suddenly drawn out of color. His feet kicked the carpet, and his sole focus was on that. “Do you understand? You can’t walk into strangers’ houses, period. And if you wanted a real shot at getting the room you should have called me and scheduled a date to come and talk to me at a normal hour on a normal day like everyone else. And probably have your parents to call me too, considering. Now, please get out of my apartment.”

It took him a minute, but Laurent finally listened to reason and gathered his stuff. On his way out, though, as Damen already breathed relieved that this unnerving event was over (and began to formulate in mind the text he was going to send Nikandros), Laurent stopped again, white as a sheet, barely a foot away from the door Damen had been holding open for too long.

“Let me stay.”

Neither Laurent’s voice nor his posture were anything of what they had been. It was like watching him come undone. His shoulders tensed and his feet were dragging rather than pacing. “I have the money. You won’t even know I’m here. Please.” Damen shook his head sluggishly. Laurent looked out the door and then slowly cast his eyes back to Damen. “Tonight then. I can pay you for the stay and I’ll be gone in the morning before you know it.”

Damen’s resolve faltered, then cracked, then crumbled. It finally occurred to him, “Why did you come here?”

Laurent frowned. “Your flyer…”

“No.” Laurent knew what Damen really asked.

Laurent bit his bottom lip for a long time, then straightened up. “I have nowhere else to go.” His face, though he attempted to remain composed, betrayed him. His bottom lip trembled discreetly.

“You were kicked out?” No response. Damen ran a hand over his face. His grip on the door slacked. “Damn you. Don’t you have… friends? Any family you can run to? Come to a stranger’s apartment… do you have any idea what could happen to you? You’re sixteen.” Laurent stared at him, silent. For a moment, he seemed about to speak but words died on his lips. “How do I know you aren't here to rob me? Or jump me when I’m asleep? Are your cronies waiting for you sign downstairs?”

Laurent said nothing. He balled his fists and waited as if he knew that Damen already changed his mind. It was not like Damen could do anything else anyway. It’s not like he would be able to cast out a homeless kid. Even a kid like Laurent.

Damen scratched his head and slammed the door behind him, eyes closed with a long, heavy sigh. He cursed under his breath. “Just tonight,” Damen said, though he knew he was lying. “You will have to find someplace else tomorrow.”

“Right. Thank you,” Laurent said.

They stared at each other for a moment. Damen, awkward with arms crossed over his chest and Laurent twirling his beany in his hands. “Are you hungry?”

“Not really.”

“Well then. The bathroom is at the end of the corridor, there are clean towels in the cabinet, and other stuff you might need.” Another awkward moment passed. “Let me show you to your room. The room. Not your room. Where you’ll stay tonight.”

Again, in a low voice, Laurent thanked him.

#My writing #Fic #damen of akielos #damen x laurent #Lamen #Laurent of Vere #Captive prince #Capri #fanfic #Modern AU #And they were roommates #mine #posting so i STOP editing this part

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crispycrimebrulee · 3 years

Note

hiii! i love your work and I really admire the way you write 💕💖, so I couldn't resist making a request hehe. if it's not too much of a hassle, i'd like 11 or 22 for Illumi, please. thank you very much in advance, i send you a lot of love from Madrid uwuwu 💗💕💞😘 (and sorry for my bad English 😓😭)

your english is wonderful >:( also MADRID!!! I wanna go to Madrid...

[Prompt #22 "Stop Being Seductive!" "I Was Being Myself, But Okay"] [Fluff and a bit of Crack because I couldnt help it]

A Date?

You stood on the outskirts of a private estate, ¾ of the view of the mansion obscured by a hedge of lush green arborvitae rising above a brick wall about twice your height. Not that you would have been able to see much if the obstructions weren’t there, it was the dead of night and the mansion only provided faint specks of light in the distance, with the scattered decorative lamp posts offering faint halos of light every few feet, but still managing to leave you shrouded in darkness.

Frankly, you had no reason to be there; in the mansion, near it, or outside of it. You had been asked to accompany Illumi on a job, and although this had slowly become a frequent occurrence, it always puzzled you every time. The first time he’d asked you, he had essentially appeared in your living room and asked you to come with him “somewhere” and upon asking him to clarify, he followed with again asking you to come with him, this time saying to join him on a job. You had been ready to participate, but he ended up leaving you standing around nowhere near the actual action, and would then return to you after 30 minutes and would bring you home. Now, this had been about the tenth time he’d asked you to join him on a job, knowing very well he’d have you standing around waiting for him. This was only made stranger by the fact that not only did he have someone that he did jobs with (a questionable jester), but you had actually actively participated in jobs with Illumi, so why Illumi had changed your position from job partner to benching you. In his defense, you had failed to ask him why he had been doing this lately, rather, you had been attempting for the last 3 or so meetings to figure it out yourself. There were no logical reasons as to why he dragged you to his missions but his ‘work partner’, as Illumi so endearingly referred to, had once run into you while you were waiting on the sidelines for Illumi and given you a strange bit of insight in passing.

He had questioned why Illumi had you waiting out there all by your lonesome, knowing how much Illumi cared for you. Cared for you? That was an interesting bit of news… Illumi had never made it apparent that he so much as a thought of you other than a work associate, let alone that he ‘cared’ for you beyond that. As this jester had left you standing in the dark, a final passing comment of “what a strange way to bond with someone you fancy” caught you off guard.

A way to bond?

Someone you fancy?

Granted this was Illumi Zoldyck you were talking about, and he was dense like fruitcake in terms of making bonds and connections other than things pertaining strictly to work, but the thought of him fancying you and trying to bond with you made your gears turn.

On your end, you’d done a surprisingly good job at keeping your own feelings towards Illumi at bay, weary about how he would react to the prospect of someone fancying him. You couldn’t really lie to yourself when you thought about him. One would definitely call him strange, which was an understatement in most circumstances, but something about his strangeness and lack of awareness for social cues was oddly endearing. Little quirks about how he liked his tea or the occasional indulgence he took part in, or his particular hair care routine always managed to captivate you. Along with his (albeit something he was at a default) honesty and genuine answers, and his offhand compliments, you struggled to keep yourself together at his awkwardness. Not to mention, he was simply physically stunning, while some would call him rather plain. It might be his plainness that intrigued you, but it wasn’t like it’d be wrong to think so. Even if you felt this way about him, he had no way of knowing, and you had no inclination that it was reciprocated. He’d never made it known about having feelings for you, so you wondered if the two of you were playing an evenly matched waiting game with each other at this juncture.

Why would he feel the same anyway? It’s not like you were eccentric like that questionable jester Illumi was friends with, or that you came from an affluent family of assassins… you provided no value to Illumi other than… company.

“Let's go.”

You shifted your eyes around, noticing Illumi standing beside you, his eyes burning into yours. How long had he been standing there…?

You nodded, picking yourself up off the wall, and began walking back the way you two had come, only for Illumi to stand in front of you and stop you.

“This way.” he pointed behind you and you turned, looking at hazy streetlamps down the way.

“But home is” you pointed past him in the opposite direction, “this way.”

“I am bringing you somewhere. This way.” he turned you around and began walking further away from home with you in tow.

“Where are we goin’ Illu?” you asked, wondering what was past the dark street if anything at all.

“The park,” he answered, still walking, his eyes straight ahead.

Wasn’t it around 1am? What could be at the park at this hour?

Upon arriving at the park, the park was equally as dark as the street by the mansion, and since the scarce lights in the park were so dim, it only served to make the park feel barren, especially with only you and Illumi here.

He’d stopped by a bench situated in front of a small pond, the water gently breaking the silence whilst reflecting soft moonlight, and you couldn’t help but get lost in your thoughts while staring at the dark pond until Illumi called your name.

You didn’t answer, you only let your distant gaze fall on him, taking him in one aspect at a time. Everything, everything was perfect about him, regardless if that was what he was ‘created’ to be or if your thoughts about him made you feel like he was perfect. What had his friend been thinking, “someone you fancy”? Compared to Illumi you were nowhere near perfection, you still had so much work to do on yourself and perfecting your trade, yet the hint that Illumi felt something towards you felt absolutely absurd when you realized what you were up against. Apart from living up to his family's expectations, would you be able to live up to his? Highly unlikely, at least to you.

There you stood, brooding at Illumi who was merely standing there looking stunning, although there was rarely a time he didn’t.

“Y/n.”

Nothing out of you yet again, still brooding.

“Y/n.”

Again, calling out to you like you’d left the scene as he stared at you as you stared at him.

“Y/n you are staring.”

You scowled, finally looking away, huffing as you did so.

“You’re being….seductive. Stop being seductive!” you muttered, attempting to inspect the tops of your shoes.

You glanced at him and he blinked, big eyes holding a sense of genuine confusion as he slowly answered.

“I was not.”

“Yes, you are!”

“I was being myself, but okay y/n.”

You sighed, giving him a glare as you sat down on the bench, feeling somewhat defeated and wholly embarrassed for attempting to call him out… on seductiveness.

“Why’d you bring me here anyways?” you asked, kicking at the rocks on the ground.

“A date.”

You turned your head fast enough you felt the strain in your neck from doing so. Eyes wide and full of confusion, you attempted to string a coherent sentence together all while giving him a bewildered look.

“Date? Now?”

“Yes. This is a date.”

You cocked your head to the side and squinted at him.

As smart as he is, he seems to be as thick as mince when it comes to dates…

“Illumi this isn’t… a date.”

“Yes, it is.”

“We’re sitting in a park, Illu. In the middle of the night.”

“Did you prefer the previous occurrences as dates?”

“What previous occurrences…” you whispered, wondering how he could become vaguer and vaguer with his view of dates.

“My missions.”

“Those were dates?!” you slumped down in your spot, rubbing your face with your hands.

“Were you not aware.”

“Those aren’t dates! You never even asked me on a date!”

“I asked you to come with me.”

“That's asking to tag along! Not a date!”

He was silent for a moment, looking at you with a classically vacant look before speaking up.

“I will take you on a date.”

“That’s a nice sentiment, Lumi, but when? And why?”

“Tomorrow. I like you.”

Slack-jawed but somewhat satisfied (courtesy of his honesty, no matter how jarring) you nodded slowly, wondering if that jester wasn’t so wrong after all.

“Okay.”

“Good.”

He took a seat by you, watching the water as well. You never could tell what he was thinking, and more often than not you’d rather not find out, but whatever those thoughts were now… he seemed calmer, almost or at least at ease. Whether that was due to your acceptance of a (proper) date or not was something you’d maybe find out later, but that was of little concern right now.

The main concern would be finding a last-minute date outfit… and hoping it wasn’t the park during the day.

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tinyboxxtink · 3 years

Text

"...So I Married A Monster" *Chapter 7*

Chapter 6

Chapter 8

Yeah I know, that last chapter was....brutal.

And I have some bad news my babies....I work non-stop the next three days, so maybe no new chapter until Monday.

But I gave you this one with a little floof, to make up for that horrible angsty chapter. But also, it's kind of short.

Worse news....it ends on a cliffhanger.

I LOVE YOU ALL DON'T LEAVE ME PLEASE.

@madamsnape921

@lolliepopsicle

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@milkshqke

@wanniiieeee

@gibbs274

@sassyada

@aprildecker-blog

@bookishfanfic

@stars-in-the-skies-world

@stars-trash-18

@omgsuperstarg

@objection-argumentative

@thatesqcrush

@shittanyy

@mrsrafaelbarba

@word-scribbless

@storiesofsvu

@believinghurts

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

Back At Your House

You woke up in your bed, covered in towels and one of Kylie’s pull ups taped under your underwear, along with a million other different cloths/toilet paper.

“What the fuck…?” You tried to move but realized the towels you were surrounded with were mostly covered in blood. You quickly began to panic as the more you woke up the more the pain was coming back. You tried to think of the last thing you remembered before blacking out. Billy had been pumping in and out of your ass, you were in torturous pain, and then he called-- Oh god.

You began scrambling around the bed with your arms under the sheets and comforter, looking for your phone. You could hear the shower running and Billy humming from the bathroom. He was getting off on this, the sick fuck. You couldn’t believe you had been so blind to his psychosis before this. Love is blind sure, but what the fuck?!

Finally you found your phone on the charger, but it was on your vanity across the room. You dragged yourself across the bed and leaned over the bed as far as you could, reaching for the vanity desperately.

You fell helplessly off the foot of the bed, whimpering and crying from the pain in your rectum. You were pretty sure you were still bleeding, but Billy had shoved so much toilet paper and towels up there you probably couldn’t even shit right now. Maybe for a long time.

You weakly pulled on the cord so it made the phone fall off the vanity and land in your hands. You saw you had 30 missed calls, all from Rafael. Oh thank god, he still cared about you. Worried about you.

You hit REDIAL and waited for him to answer. You looked up to the sky and started praying for him to answer before Billy got out of the shower. Finally after what felt like hours, you heard his voice. It was frantic and terrifying, he sounded like he had been crying for a long while.

“What now, Lewis? I swear to God if you FUCKING--”

“R-Rafa?” Your small, weak voice in response made him almost drop the phone in relief.

“Y/N?” He almost choked.

“Mi amor? Are you okay? Where are you? Where’s Lewis?” He rattled off the millions of questions that had ran through his mind since Billy had hung up on him. Hearing him call you amor made your whole world brighten, you wanted to weep in happiness.

“I’m--” You looked down at yourself. You were literally wearing a diaper.

“I’m outside,” He responded before you could say anything else.

“What?” You breathed deeply, pulling yourself up and limping towards your bedroom window. You could see Rafael’s car a few houses down, with the lights off.

“What are you doing?!” You hissed into the phone, glancing fearfully at the bathroom door. “You can’t be here!”

“You can’t stay here baby, you need medical help,” He said into the phone, staring at your silhouette through your window now.

“I-I can’t leave the girls,” You twirled your hair nervously.

“Baby if you’re dead you can’t help them at all!” Rafael reasoned.

Well, he did have a point. You checked the phone for the time: 11:30 pm. You had been out for hours. The girls were probably asleep, you didn’t know how much longer Billy would be in the shower.

“Look he won’t hurt them, right? You said that?” Rafael asked, knocking you back to reality.

“Raff after tonight I don’t know what he’s capable of,” You tried not to start crying again. You knew how upset he already was, if he heard you cry you knew it would send him off the edge again.

“God dammit!” You could hear him pull the phone away and violently hit the passenger's seat several times as the image of your bloody body being rammed by Lewis reverberated in his brain images.

“Rafael, calm down. Please,” You pleaded with him. “I-I don’t even know if I can make it outside,”

“Fuck,” You heard him mutter. “Then I’m coming in,”

“Rafael, don’t. Please--” But it was too late, he had already hung up. You closed your eyes and waited for the boom. You listened intently as the shower continued to run, then you heard your door open, footsteps come running down the hall.

Finally you saw him, Rafael. He scooped you up before you could say anything, grabbed some of your clean clothes out of your drawers and before you knew it you were sitting in the passenger's seat of his car, and he was speeding away from your house.

“Carino…” You felt his hand on the back of your head, rubbing your hair lovingly. “God I’m so so sorry,”

“It’s not your fault,” You shook your head weakly, closing your eyes and enjoying the sensation of his skin on yours again. Even if it was just your hair.

You could smell his cologne wafting from his wrist and you placed a hand on his knee, turning your head to face him. He glanced over at you, giving you a sad smile. He put his free hand on your hand that was on his knee, then when he thought you were far enough away he pulled over to the side of the road.

“Wha---?” You looked around confused as he unbuckled his seatbelt. He unbuckled yours and then pulled you from your seat, over the gear stick into his lap.

“Rafa, what are you doing?” You cocked your head to the side like a confused puppy dog as he stroked your hair. Instead of answering your question, he pulled you into a deep, slow kiss. The complete opposite of what you had been through tonight.

“I just...I’ve wanted to do this since you left my office. Since I saw you with that gun pushed into your back. Since I saw you…” He started to cry so he looked down in shame.

You put one hand on his cheek and wiped the tears with your thumb. He put his hand over the hand on his cheek and kissed in between your thumb and first finger. You pressed your forehead against his while he tried to compose himself, then you just laid your head on his shoulder. He started to stroke your hair once more and just held you like that, basking in each other’s safeness and warmth.

“I love you,” He whispered while still holding onto you, tears still apparent in his voice. “I love you so much Y/N, I’m sorry. I will never let you out of my sight ever again,”

“I’m sorry,” You whispered into his shoulder. “I should’ve listened to you,”

“Hey,” He picked your head up and made you face him. “No, you do not apologize for ANYTHING, okay? This isn’t your fault,”

“Isn’t it?” You bit your lip while trying not to cry yourself. “I married the man, Rafael! I had kids with him, I--I would have stayed married to him if he hadn’t left!”

“But you didn’t know....” He comforted you.

“No but I should have,” You shook your head in shame at yourself.

“How could you have known that he--”

“Because my dad was like him, Rafael,” You finally admitted. You hadn’t told anyone that, not even Billy.

“....What?” You looked at him in shock, trying to make sure you heard him correctly.

“My dad, he--” You looked down at your lap in shame. “He used to beat the shit out of me and my mom,”

“....Me too,” Rafael finally admitted his own shame after a long pause.

“What?” You blinked several times. “Seriously?”

“Mmmhmm,” He nodded sadly. “Well you know when he was sober enough to hit. Sometimes he just wouldn’t come home at all. For hours, days. Finally never,”

“Oh, Raffi….” You gave a sympathetic look. “If it makes you feel any better, my dad drank himself to death,”

“How would that make me feel better?” Rafael raised an eyebrow at you.

“I don’t know, I was trying to say something comforting. I suck at it. I shouldn’t be a mother,” You shook your head.

“Hey now,” He put a hand to your cheek again. “You seem like a great mother,”

“Oh yeah, mom of the year,” You rolled your eyes. “I just left my kids with their psychopath father,”

“Hey, I kidnapped you,” He teased.

“Yeah you did--” You stopped smiling when the thought hit you like a train. “Oh fuck,”

“What?” Rafael furrowed his eyebrows.

“If I know Billy, once he realizes I’m gone and who I’m with, he’s going to claim you kidnapped me or something,” Your own eyebrows furrowed as you started going over worst case scenarios.

“But that’s absurd,” He shook his head. “Clearly I didn’t…”

“I mean you kind of did,” You shrugged.

“But you wanted to come!” He defended.

“You think he’s gonna word it that way?” You gave him a look.

“Well if they come after us then I’ll just clarify that--” Rafael kept reasoning with you.

“Then he’ll say that I just abandoned them,” You made another excuse.

“You left them with their dad--” Rafael was determined to make you see logic.

“He’s going to come after us Rafael!!”

“Okay, baby-- you’re spiraling,” He took both of your hands. “Inhalar, exhalar,” [pronounced

In-hall-ay, ex-hall-ay]

You took several inhales and exhales, long and deep.

“I just--” You breathed again. “I know this is going to end badly,”

“Not as badly as it could have,” Rafael pointed out. “Are you sure you’re okay? Do we need to go to the hospital or something?”

“...I...I don’t know,” You sheepishly admitted. “I haven’t had the courage to check,”

“What?!” Rafael cried, picking you up and standing up out of the car and opening the back door, laying you across the backseat.

“Baby these are fine leather seats! You’ll never get the blood out if you--” You tried to object but Rafael was already peeling off your “diaper”. He became more and more angry at the haphazard way Lewis had just patched you up so that he could shower. When he unraveled the mountains of toilet paper wrapped around your waist, he could see you were “Stopped up” by a bunch of cotton balls and tampons. And you were very clearly still bleeding. The sight made him sick.

“Fuck…” He whispered as he threw the “bandages” back on you, then went to get something from his trunk. He came back with an old t-shirt and wrapped it around your waist and butt area tightly.

“We have to stop this bleeding baby,” he began to panic again. “I-I don’t even know how you’re conscious right now, you must have lost a lot of--” He stopped talking when he realized you were in fact, unconscious now. All of those shitty bandages as shitty as they were, had been keeping your blood and and now it was freely pouring out of you and out of the car.

“Fuck…” He muttered as he slammed the door and got in the driver’s seat, starting his car again and speeding towards the hospital. Well, it would sure be a hell of a lot harder to explain he DIDN’T kidnap you now, if you weren’t awake to verify it.

He sped as fast as he could to the hospital, dialing Liv’s number as he drove. “Liv, get the squad to the hospital,” He instructed her.

“And we need a police detail at this address, but you have got to be discreet, I don’t want him going off the rails,”

As soon as they got to the hospital, Rafael jumped out and started yelling to EMT’s and nurses standing outside the emergency room to help him with you. They grabbed a gurney and helped Rafael put you on it, rolling you inside as you were immediately hooked up to things and had a team swarming you.

“How much blood has she lost?” A nurse asked him as she pushed him back away from you so the doctors could work.

“I...I don’t know,” He answered warily as he tried looking over her to see how you were.

“What blood type is she?” She moved him to face her.

“I don’t know…” He rubbed his hand across the back of his head, but it was covered in your blood. It made him panic more.

“Do you know anything, sir?” The nursed asked in an annoyed tone.

“Yes,” He was now glaring angrily. “I know she was brutally raped, and I’m pretty sure he tore her,”

“....He?” She eyed him up and down, seeing him covered in your blood.

“Oh come on,” Rafael exhaled with a sarcastic laugh. “You don’t think if I did this to her I would bring her in myself?”

“I don’t know you sir, I don’t know what you would or would not do--”

“No I did NOT do this to her--” He started to tell her she was nuts, when he heard the last voice in the world he wanted to hear.

“THERE HE IS!!!!” He turned to see Lewis walking in with Jersey PD, pointing directly at him.

“THAT’S THE MAN WHO RAPED AND KIDNAPPED MY WIFE!!!!!!!!”

….Well, fuck.

#rafael barba #rafael barba x you #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba imagine #rafael barba angst #william lewis x you smut #william lewis imagine #william lewis angst #william lewis fanfiction #william lewis x reader #william lewis x you #william lewis #so i married a monster #law and order svu

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always-arabis · 3 years

Text

The Lost Son: Chapter 11 Teaser

Sam met Rung the following afternoon.

The psychiatrist allowed him to choose the location for their session. He had an office onboard the Lost Light, but as the thought of leaving his quarters was daunting enough, Sam had absolutely no desire to bridge to another ship. Rung had suggested the hydroponics lab instead, and unable to see an alternative, he had agreed. As a result, Sam found himself pacing up and down the neat rows of planters as he waited for the psychiatrist to arrive. The air was humid and warm due to the misting system that kept the plants in peak condition. Each planter included a label that was written in Cybertronian—plant type or growing instructions, he assumed. He couldn’t read the glyphs to know for certain. He made his way down the aisle, his eyes skipping over the various seedlings as he walked. The air smelled like wet soil and green things, as it so often did after a heavy rain back home. It was a pleasant, albeit melancholy scent.

His introspection was interrupted by the sound of doors sliding open. He half-turned, glancing towards the entryway as an unfamiliar mechanoid stepped into the hangar. The stranger was short and thin with a narrow waist. Although he was plated in orange and white panels, he lacked the bulky armor of the other Autobots. He glanced briefly around the room, before his vivid blue optics settled on Sam.

“Hello Sam.” He chirruped in greeting, “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Sam resisted the urge to cross his arms by bracing his hands against the stainless steel table in front of him. The metal was cool to the touch.

“It’s nice to meet you too.” He lied.

Rung smiled at him as he walked closer. His optics were large and round, giving him a slightly bookish appearance.

“This is a lovely space. Do you come here often?” He asked, glancing around the room as he approached.

Sam shrugged, a barely there twitch of his shoulders.

“Sometimes, I guess.” He replied.

Rung’s smile softened as he stopped on the opposite side of the table. Standing this close to one another, Sam realized that the psychiatrist wasn’t much taller than he was—eight or ten feet, perhaps a little taller.

“Please allow me to properly introduce myself.” He said, “My name is Rung and I am the psy-ops specialist onboard the Lost Light.”

Sam’s brow furrowed in confusion. “A psy-ops specialist? I thought you were a psychiatrist.”

Rung’s smile turned wry as he pressed his servos against the table. “I am—the latter predates the former. I have been licensed to practice psychiatry since before the Golden Age.”

Sam tipped his head to the side, suddenly curious despite himself.

“I guess I didn’t realize psychiatry was a thing for mechanoids.” He said, before realizing the absurdity of his statement, “I mean, not in any kind of formal capacity.”

If Rung was offended by his inane comment, it never showed. Instead, the psychiatrist cocked his head, mirroring Sam’s posture.

“We may not have a hippocampus, but we still process our experiences, as humans do.” Rung replied, “And sometimes those experiences don’t write properly when transferred from RAM to quartz storage. When that happens, talk therapy can help—as I know you are aware.”

Sam ducked his head, suddenly self-conscious. Unable to look the psychiatrist in the eye, he reached out and ran a thumb over the dark green, serrated leaves in front of him. The placard affixed to the planter had four distinct glyphs, and he didn’t recognize any of them.

“So, what’s the process here?” He asked, without looking up, “Do we need to go find a chaise lounge or something?”

He could feel the soft wash of Rung’s amusement across the neural-network. It caused him to turn his attention inwards, regarding the spark signature in front of him. It was a soft peachy-orange color, diffuse and wispy in nature. Even through his firewalls, Sam could glean impressions of calm and competency that reminded him of Optimus or Ratchet.

“The process of talk therapy is much the same between our two peoples.” Rung chuckled, “It involves a lot of time and patience and trust. Our understanding of medical privacy differs from yours, of course, but I have written a patient confidentiality sub-routine into my programming.”

Sam was hardly listening. Rung’s signature glowed at him on the neural-network—warm and inviting. Unable to resist, he reached out, brushing mental fingers across the orange glow. He could feel Rung’s answering start of surprise, but the psychiatrist did not protest or pull away. Sam leaned forward, in both body and mind as he smoothed across the glowing node. The sensation was pleasant and somehow… familiar. It took Sam a long moment to realize why, and when he did, his head came up in surprise.

“How old are you?” He blurted.

Rung blinked owlishly at him, seemingly taken by surprise by the non-sequitur.

“How …old?” He asked, confusion coloring his voice.

Sam flushed hotly, his mind catching up with his mouth as he realized the impertinence of the question.

“I’m sorry.” He stammered as heat blazed across his face, “I didn’t mean… I mean, you don’t look—“ He swallowed the words down, taking a deep breath before he tried again, “I just meant that your signature looks… old.”

The confusion on Rung’s face was gone, replaced by a mixture of amusement and curiosity. He tipped his head to the side, as though considering Sam closely.

“I suppose I am old, in relative terms at least.” He chuckled. “I was on-lined approximately seventeen million years ago.”

Sam stared at the psychiatrist, unsure whether he had heard him correctly.

“You’re… seventeen million years old?” He asked, incredulously.

Rung’s optics warmed to a bright turquoise as he inclined his helm.

“I am indeed. I was on-lined near the Pious Pools shortly after the end of the first Golden Age.” He replied.

Sam’s head spun with a mixture of shock and disbelief, but all he could manage was a faint, “…and I thought Ratchet was old.”

Rung surprised him by throwing back his head and laughing. He had a warm, affable laugh that had the corners of Sam’s lips twitching despite himself.

“Ratchet would probably prefer the term experienced.” He replied at last, “Or seasoned, perhaps.”

“I’m sure he would.” Sam said dryly, “But that doesn’t make it true.”

#thesignaturebookclub #TheSignatureSeries #transformers fanfiction #Sam/Bumblebee #sam witwicky

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vikingpoteto · 4 years

Text

middle children must unionize

read on ao3 ______________________

my contributior for @batfam-big-bang

Summary: Jason realizes no one is taking care of Tim - not even Tim himself. He decides to do something about it.

Notes: I can't stress enough how grateful I am for joining this event. First of all, stan the mods. Stan my beta reader team, @timmydrakewings, @stormleviosa and @sun-lit-roses. Stan my artist team @houser-of-stories, @reese-haleth and @anicomicqueen To all of these amazing talented people that, for whatever reason chose to help me with this story, I can't stress enough how grateful I am. ________________________

Jason doesn’t keep in touch with the Bats after Bruce’s gone.

Batwoman only trusts him as far as she can throw him. Dick is not easy to avoid, but Jason keeps their contact to a minimum nonetheless. Ninja girl doesn’t speak with him. Replacement… Well. Jason does have a weird professional relationship with the kid. As professional as you can get with someone you tried to kill. Barbara will probably never forgive him for making Dick cry so many times. Brat girl will probably never forgive him for trying to kill Replacement. The other one, whatever his name is, is low-key/high-key terrified of Jason. As for the gremlin... Well, he’s like 10? 11? Jason doesn’t hang out with children, not even assassin ones.

So yeah. Not on friendly terms with anyone in the Wayne family.

However he is an instigator at heart and, while whatever they’re doing in the Batcave is none of his business, he’ll be damned if he doesn’t finish one of his rare visits by stirring things up a bit.

Dick usually makes sure he doesn’t do anything too outrageous, but a distraction comes in the form of Gremlin, who shows up demanding to know why Dick is late for their training session or whatever. The brat sends Jason a scathing look but otherwise doesn’t acknowledge him. Dick only smiles patiently and waves Jason goodbye, leaving Replacement unsupervised. Before heading out, Jason approaches Replacement, who’s sitting by the batcomputer.

“So,” he starts. Jason notices when the kid flinches a little. Your regular guy wouldn’t, but Jason was once a bat too. “How does it feel to be replaced, Replacement?”

Replacement’s shoulders go stiff for half a second.

When he turns to face Jason, however, his expression is empty.

“Predictable,” he says.

Jason quirks an eyebrow up. “Meaning?”

“I was only a Robin because I was, how can I put this, a coworker?” Replacement turns his eyes back to the computer and starts typing. “It was a no-strings-attached sort of deal. Bound to end at some point.”

That’s… new.

“You’re legally adopted into the Wayne family,” Jason hears himself reminding him.

“Yeah, ain’t that a pickle,” Replacement laughs. “Can you guess who forced Bruce to do that? My money was on Dick, but now I think it was probably Babs or Alfred.”

Jason stares, unsure what to make of that. Before he decides, the kid stands up.

"I have always been a patch job, so being dismissed is to be expected. I'm just overstaying my welcome at this point."

“You can get dismissed? I thought this was an until-your-untimely-death sort of gig.”

That was not how Jason expected this conversation to go, like, at all. He had never seen Replacement looking so… worn out? Lifeless?

“I don’t know, man,” Tim frowns as though he made himself confused. “God, I’m sleepy. See you around, I guess.”

And Jason watches him leave the cave with his shoulders hunched and an empty stare. Dick and Gremlin are so preoccupied with their sparring session that they don’t seem to notice. Jason sticks around for a few more seconds, stunned, before he realizes what he’s doing. He goes home.

Jason can’t stop thinking about what the kid said.

It’s not that he didn’t think something of the sorts, especially when he was angriest at Bruce. He had thought about how Batman trained his children to be soldiers and, like soldiers, they could be easily replaced. After all, what was one more problem child joining their broken family? What’s another deadly brat being thrown at some creeps wearing literal clown costumes?

He did think of them as Bruce’s kids though.

Not that Batman had any expertise in healthy parenting techniques, but Jason didn’t have any healthy son experiences to compare so it didn’t matter much. They were Batkids for the better and mostly for the worse, and if something happened to them, well, the crusade must go on.

He never thought of Robin as someone that could be sent home out of the blue, like your average GC Pig. A disgrace to the family? Sure. See, kids, we don’t talk about cousin Jason. He got himself killed and came back all crooked. That’s what happens if you kill murderers or forget to brush your teeth. Still, the idea of being dismissed for no reason never occurred to Jason. It was absurd, because, as far as Jason knew, his replacement was the perfect little soldier. Why would he walk away?

Dick fought with Bruce. Jason… well. You know. Brat girl had to move cities or whatever? Or she died, but got better? Jason doesn’t really know anything about the chick. Either way, he knows she became Batgirl soon after. Tim, however, had nothing stopping him from staying masked. Why would Replacement talk about being Robin as if it was a summer job?

Does that mean that the wimpy kid Jason has been bullying was really that cold and detached?

He thinks about it until his head hurts and he starts remembering times with Bruce and Dick and Alfred and suddenly he doesn’t want to think about it anymore.

It’s a good thing Jason is good at compartmentalizing, because that’s what he does. He pushes thoughts of Batman and Robin to the depths of his mind and forgets about it.

He doesn’t find out until weeks later.

He’s not visiting the manor because he wants to. It’s just that there is this stupid encrypted information he needs for a case and he isn’t exactly tech savvy. He doesn’t think Barbara would do him a solid - she’s still ignoring him for… whatever. He doesn’t even know. Probably something about hurting Dick’s pwecious feewings or eating the last cookie Alfred made. Either way, Jason first tries contacting Replacement directly. Only when the kid doesn’t pick up he forces himself to go to the cult headquarters.

He needs that data, dammit, and whoever called programming logic, was out of their damn mind. If true, execute commands 1, 2 and IV, it said. If what was true? Jason read and read and still didn’t get what it was referring to. And why would someone name the commands regular numbers then just… throw a fucking roman number? Just to spice things up? Whoever wrote that damn code should get a bullet in the foot.

“Jay!” Dick grins at him, although he looks unamused by the fact that Jason is coming in through a window on the second floor. “You do remember that we have a door, don’t you?”

“I like to keep ‘em guessing,” Jason says. “Which room is the kid’s? I have a job for him.”

Dick tilts his head to the side, confused. “Damian is at school?”

And then there’s that. A lot to unpack. First, Jason is deeply offended that Dick thinks he would ever go there after Gremlin, the child that likes to criticize Jason's skills despite the fact that a) Jason was trained by Damian's father and then b)Jason was trained by Damian's mother. Second, Damian Wayne. Going to Gotham Academy. Does he wear the uniform? Does he have homework or does he threaten the teachers with a sword until they quit? Did anyone explain to him the concept of playing tag before he murders a bunch of 9 year olds? Jason has so many questions. If only he had time.

“I said the kid . The human one, not the imp.”

“Oh.” Dick seems taken aback. “Oh, he... Jason, Tim isn’t in Gotham. You didn’t know?”

Jason groans. “Are you kidding me? You annoyed him into leaving the planet with his alien friends again, didn’t you?”

“No, he… I actually don’t know where he is now.”

Jason blinks in surprise. So Dick didn’t pick Bruce’s habit of microchipping his kids?

“What do you mean you don’t know? How do you lose a whole Robin? The uniform is basically a traffic cone.”

Dick sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. Jason had seen Bruce do just that so many times he forgets for a moment whatever stupid joke he was about to make. When did his older brother become the dad?

“He left a while ago. He barely spent any time here at the manor after I gave Robin to Damian, so…”

Jason freezes. After I gave Robin to Damian, he says. Being dismissed is to be expected, the kid said weeks ago.

“Dick. What the fuck did you do?”

Dick looks surprised at the raw anger in Jason’s voice, even though he shouldn’t fucking be. Jason remembers the distant voice on that day. He did think that was oddly cold for Replacement, even if he was a calculating nerd. Except that wasn’t him being cold. That was him lying to himself.

Jason would know. He spent most of his childhood telling himself he didn’t need a loving father. A good part of his teenage years telling everyone that would hear that he didn’t care at all that Bruce kept holding him to the standards of the perfect son that went away. It’s a lot easier to pretend you didn’t care because it makes it hurt less when things are taken away. Jason was a fucking pro at that technique, so much he wonders how the hell he didn’t notice earlier.

“I did what I had to do,” Dick says, defensively. The way he does when he’s second guessing himself, but still in denial about it. “Tim’s a hero of his own right and he’s capable enough that…”

“That you fucking fired him?” Jason barks.

“Damian needs Robin, Jason! He’s just so lost and being Robin gave him a sense of purpose, allowed him to actually be a child.”

“No shit Gremlin is a child! What about Replacement? He’s, what, 15?”

“He’s 17, how do you not know your own brother’s age?”

“Whatever! He’s just a teen and you basically just told him to fuck off.”

Dick sighs. “Look, I tried to help Tim. Tim’s friends tried to help Tim. But he’s a mature person and he wanted some time for himself.”

Ain’t that a familiar song. A good dose of leave me the fuck alone while still wearing a goddamn bat on his chest and making sure to make enough noise to draw attention. He doesn’t like how close it hits to home, how Dick, who’s supposed to be the best of them, ends up being just as shit as recognizing emotions as any other Bat. Jason laughs without any humor.

Incensed, Dick’s jaw sets in challenge as he adds: “I trust Tim and I respected his choice to leave on his own mission, because he knows what’s right for him.”

“Keep telling yourself that if it helps you sleep at night,” Jason says. “You’re right. Give the demon what he needs. Replacement is a grown ass adult because you respect him so much .”

“Jason, I didn’t say that…”

“He was never a kid here, Dick, even I know that. You all keep throwing shit at him, messes for him to fix ‘cause it’s fine, it’s little Timmy, he’s so fucking capable, he can take it. Have you ever considered that he was always an adult because you all are the fucking children?”

I have always been a patch job sounds awfully similar to I’m here because he got lonely after you left.

But apparently Dick is done exercising his brotherly patience and Jason hit a nerve.

“What do you know about him? You never bothered to talk to him, to spend time with him. You don’t know shit about Tim.”

Jason scoffs. Dick’s face grows unevenly red.

“You don’t, Jason! You were busy trying to kill him. Remember that bonding experience? Must have been fun for him. Having the hero he grew up admiring trying to murder him?”

Jason throws the first punch. Dick easily dodges, the motherfucker, the damn superior Robin.

Screw it, Jason thinks as they start yet another classic Robin Brawl that would only end when Ninja Girl mysteriously dropped from the ceiling and kicked both of their asses.

Jason doesn’t hear from the cave for a while. His phone gets a weird virus, so he guesses Oracle heard he pushed Dick down the stairs. He just tosses the whole thing away and decides that screw his stupid case with the weird code, screw detective work. The biggest detectives aren’t around anymore. He'll just call Kory and convince her to help torch the place up and hopefully the new Batman and Robin will have to deal with the aftermath.

The next time Jason hears from his brothers, it’s a frantic call from Dick that makes Jason’s blood turn into ice: freaking Ra’s Al Ghul is in Gotham doing his whole Head of the Demon thing. He grabs his bike and he’s still on the comms with Dick as he heads to the manor because Alfred is in there.

“What did Gremlin do?” he asks.

“Nothing,” Dick answers and Jason can barely hear him over the wind. He’s probably swinging around Gotham as he speaks. “It was Tim. Tim’s back and Ra’s is after him and everyone he cares about.”

Fuck. This is the kid Dick trusted to go out alone on a self-discovery journey or whatever. Jason wonders what the hell he had been up to get that much unwanted attention.

In the end, everything works out, kind of. No one on their side dies, but Tim does get thrown out of a window. Of a very, very, veeery tall building. Jason still thinks he got off too easy. As smart as he is, Tim shouldn’t have survived a run in with Ra’s.

Jason is curious enough about it to stay in the cave after the fact. He and Dick sit near Tim’s bed while Leslie works her magic. Dick doesn’t take his eyes from his little brother’s pale face for even a second.

“We almost lost him,” he whispers at some point. “Again, we… I almost lost him.”

“But you didn’t,” Jason says, voice flat. “You saved him.”

Dick bites his lower lip hard enough to break the skin. Jason punches his shoulder to snap him out of it.

“Jay, about last time…”

“Ugh, don’t apologize, you freak. Why can’t you just bottle up your emotions and pretend nothing happened like the rest of this stupid family?”

That makes Dick give him a weak smile. If not for the bottling up part, for the part in which Jason admits they’re a family.

“You were… well, not right. I still think Tim shouldn’t be treated like a sidekick anymore,” Dick continues, despite Jason’s disgusted noises. “But he shouldn’t be left alone either. No one in this family should.”

Jason pretends to be gagging long enough that Dick gives up on trying to be a sensible adult and returns to silently watching over his brother.

After that, it’s a matter of stalling and by stalling he ends up watching the other Bats. He finds from Alfred that Ninja Girl isn’t looming over Tim’s bed because she’s in Hong Kong. Brat girl comes and goes the whole night and Jason doesn’t understand why she can’t simply sit down and wait as a pile of nerves like Dick is doing. At some point, she reads the morning newspaper and starts making so much fuss the one Jason doesn’t know the name - Dave? Dylan? - takes her upstairs to calm her down. Damian is nowhere to be found

In the end, Jason manages to be there when Replacement wakes up. Everyone is busy celebrating, too elated that Replacement is fine, so much they forget Jason is still lurking around. No one sees when his face goes pale and he feels like he’s going to puke.

“How did you know I was going to catch you?” Dick asks.

Tim gives him a tired smile. “You’re my brother, Dick. I knew you’d save me.”

Fuck.

Fuck. It’s like looking into a goddamn mirror, except Tim is so much better at this than Jason ever was. So much that he might even be fooling himself.

But he can’t fool Jason. Dick wants to believe in the best of them, he wants them all to be sane and safe and happy - as much as a Bat can be, at least - but Jason is more of a realist. He knows no one can plan that far ahead. He knows Tim went to a meeting with the Head of the Demon fully aware that he would most likely be carried out in a coffin. Considering Dick’s misstep from a couple months earlier and the fact that Tim had already assigned him and Damian a task, Batman was the last person Tim was expecting to show up.

Of course Dick would save him, any of them. Despite his issues with Bruce, Jason had his hero worship towards his brother restored pretty fast. Dick, the golden boy, the perfect son, loved him no matter what and Jason loved him back. Knew now that Dick had love enough to go around for all of them - all of them. But did Tim know that?

Tim finished his little mission, wrapped it all pretty with a bow, making sure no one kicked the bucket. Except for himself. Timothy Drake-Wayne was the contingency plan for Batman’s contingency plan, but he didn’t care enough to make a plan for himself.

Bruce is gone. Dick is painfully blind. The Drakes are dead. Alfred has his hands full. The Behemoths or the Little League, or whatever the hell the super kids call themselves now, were just that. Kids. Jason curses to himself, because, if no one else will watch out for Replacement, it’s none of his fucking business.

It’s not.

However…

Jason doesn’t know how to put his not-plan in action. He can’t exactly walk up to Tim and say hey, I think we’re not so different, you and I, so I’m worried for your safety. I know I tried to kill you, but that like... two years ago, get over it. Let’s be friends.

Before he figures it out, he hears that Bruce is back. The real Bruce.

He doesn’t know how to feel about it, so he decides to put some distance between him and the family one more time as he takes some weeks to process. He goes out of town to hang out with his friends. He is done with Gotham bullshit for a while.

Unfortunately, Jason finds himself facing his worst enemy: the damn encrypted data.

He hates that dealers now do their thing through the internet. Who the fuck buys marijuana online? Where is the poetry in that? The class of being friends with the sketchy guy that lives around the corner and hangs out with you while you smoke? If they’re gonna sell oregano online to rich white kids, fine, but they’re selling heavy stuff to people that live in his territory and there is a thing bigger than just drugs, if Jason’s hunch is right. He could confirm it by cracking the numbers he stole from their stupidly unguarded computers.

Except the encryption is too complicated for him to access the files.

Well, isn’t that the perfect excuse to take a visit to the kid’s apartment.

Because that is the situation right now. The kid is emancipated, controlling Wayne Enterprises and living by his damn self. There is so much to unpack that Jason wants to throw away the whole suitcase.

He should probably do just that, or at least that’s what he thinks when he climbs to Tim’s balcony (in his head, he hears Dick’s voice going what do you hate about front doors, man?) and he is immediately pushed to the ground.

He is wearing his helmet, sure, but it doesn’t make it less painful when someone fucking stomps on his head, forcing his face against the floor.

“Fuck,” is all Jason thinks of saying.

He then kicks his assailant in the shin and is satisfied when they tumble backwards. Unfortunately for him, they - she - doesn’t fall over the railing, she just stays away long enough to give him time to stand.

A bald girl wearing a distasteful crop top glares daggers at him. She is already back on her fighting stance - one that looks way too familiar for Jason’s taste - ready to strike. And strike she does.

Her movements are similar to Jason’s - fast, strong, unpredictable, unfair - but she has the advantage of being more slender and having more freedom of movement in the small space. All Jason can do is defend himself and not get tossed over the edge. Who the fuck is this girl? Why is she attacking him? Doesn’t she know he is the freaking Red Hood? He just wanted the damn-

“What on Earth are you guys doing on my balcony?”

The girl freezes. Jason does not. He lands a punch straight on her nose and she falls backwards, her mouth opening in pain even if no sound comes out.

“What the hell, Hood!”

Tim rushes to the girl’s side.

“What the hell Hood?” Jason parrots, indignant. “I just got here and she attacked me!”

Tim frowns and turns to the girl. “Is that true?”

Instead of answering, the girl holds her bloody nose and glares at him. She uses her free hand to show Tim four fingers. Tim sighs.

“I know it’s the fourth time you’ve had your nose broken,” Tim gives her a wry smile. “But the three other times you had it coming. And maybe even this time. Why did you attack Red Hood?”

She makes the gesture of someone walking with two fingers then points at Tim’s balcony door. Jason doesn’t know a lot of ASL, but those don’t seem to be the same signs Cassandra uses.

“She attacked me because she thought I was trying to break in?” He asks. “You have a bodyguard now?”

Tim stands and holds out his hand to the girl. She begrudgingly takes it and lets him pull her to her feet. “Why don’t we all go inside before someone notices the Red Hood on my balcony?”

Jason grumbles in annoyance but does make his way in. Tim is right behind him and Jason can’t help but think he’s acting as a shield in case the girl wants revenge for her nose.

“Come here, Pru, I’ll get something cold for your nose.”

Jason takes a look around. As they cross the living room, he notices it looks like a shiny rich person apartment you’d see in a magazine. Jason wasn’t sure what he expected of Tim’s new crib, and he knows the kid just moved in, but the fact that the place looks like a hospital’s reception makes him feel some sort of way.

Fortunately, the kitchen is a bit better. Not much, but it’s something. There are papers spread across the table, dirty glasses in the sink, a mug full of black steaming tea, Tim’s laptop open on top of a pile of books, and there are pictures on the fridge. Jason remembers vaguely Dick mentioning that one of the kids had a thing for photography and another liked drawing. He has to assume Tim is the photographer as he takes a good look at them: one of Brat girl’s grinning face with a big heart magnet, one of Tim and Cassandra sharing the same reading chair, one of Bruce in one of those fancy sweaters he used to wear at home, one of Dick and Cassandra doing handstands, one of a red head kid, behind him Tim, a muscular girl and an even more muscular guy. Jason doesn’t need to be a detective to figure those, even without the uniforms, are Impulse, Wonder Girl and Superboy.

“So,” Tim starts. He hands the girl a pack of frozen peas and shrugs at her dirty look. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Without ceremony, the girl takes a seat by the table and tries to steal a glance at Tim’s laptop. He casually closes it and smiles at her. She scoffs.

“First, you explain the bodyguard,” Jason says, gesturing to the girl.

“Right. Where are my manners? Pru, this is Red Hood. Hood, this is Prudence.”

He doesn’t turn to her so she can read his lips or use gestures to speak, so Jason figures she isn’t deaf, only mute. Maybe it’s something like Cassandra?

“Really? Prudence? That’s ironic. ”

She shows Jason her middle finger. Definitely not deaf then.

Unlike Prudence, Jason doesn’t make himself at home. When he crosses his arms and doesn’t say anything for a minute more, Tim reads his silence correctly and adds, “We’re working together for a while and there are a lot of people that want us dead, so you’ll have to forgive her. She saw a suspicious guy trying to get into my place and she assumed the worst.”

Jason quirks an eyebrow. Tim can’t see his expression behind the helmet, but he sighs nonetheless.

“Come on. She couldn’t know I sometimes work with the Red Hood too.”

I sometimes work with. Ouch. Jason supposes that’s fair, though. Tim hasn’t exactly been informed of Jason’s newfound empathy or his protective streak.

“How did you know where I live, by the way?” Tim asks.

“Alfred told me you moved,” Jason says. “I got your address from Cassandra.”

Tim’s brows disappear under his messy fringe. “Really?”

Jason nods. “Took a lot of convincing before she believed I didn’t want to kill you in your sleep.”

At that, Tim snorts. He’s still grinning when he asks, “What did you want it for then?”

“Tech support,” he says as he fishes a small flash drive from his pocket. “I was hoping you could crack some files for me.”

Tim takes it and nods. “I’ll check it out. I’ll send the results to you as soon as I have them. Anything else?”

Again… ouch. Apparently imprudent girl is welcome to kick back and hang out, but Jason is just a fellow associate that came to hand in an assignment and promptly piss off.

Then Jason realizes that that was exactly what their relationship was like before Tim went around the world to fight Ra’s al Ghul. Damn.

Well. It’s not like he can take off his helmet and stick around when there is a stranger in there, especially when Tim carefully introduced him as the Red Hood instead of good ol’ Jason Todd. He just wanted to check on the kid and he did. No need to get all clingy. That’s Dick’s thing, not his.

It isn’t until much later that Jason realizes how pointless the visit was. He wanted to see if the kid was okay. He suspected he wasn’t, but it wasn’t like he had any idea of what to do about it.

Lucky for him, Tim looked a lot better than last time. Less dead eyed, more like he has some sort of purpose. The fact that Dick is included in his little photo collection must mean they made amends. Whether it was because Jason’s whooping Dick’s ass or in spite of it he’ll never know. Based on what he knows about Tim, the kid might have just worked everything out by himself and forgiven Dick on his own terms.

Despite his decision to take care of Tim from then on, Jason is definitely not great at it. He doesn't think he lost the rights to admonish Dick for not talking to his brother. The fact is Jason isn't great with words. He wants to help Tim through actions.

Still the question remains: how?

(And Tim emails him the files he needed 8 hours later and Jason worries that the kid didn’t sleep, which… great. This is just great.)

Less than two nights later, someone gets into Jason's frequency. He's about to head out for patrol when a creaking sound inside his helmet precedes a familiar voice slightly twisted by static.

"Red Hood, this is Red Robin. Do you copy?"

Right. He goes by Red Robin now.

"What you want, rep… kid?" Jason inwardly winces at his misstep.

There is a moment of confused silence before Tim mercifully decides not to ask what that was. "I'm pursuing a lead in your territory."

Jason hums. "What's it? I'll handle it."

"No!" Tim says too fast. "I mean… it's my case. I just thought you could take the night off? Please?"

This is supposed to be the smart Robin, right? He does know that Jason isn’t a complete moron, right?

“What’s in it for me?” Jason asks.

If this was Damian, he’d get a colorful death threat. If this was Dick, a winded speech on how brothers are supposed to have each other’s backs and he's just asking for a tiny favor, Jason, don’t make me make my ex-girlfriend hack into your phone and block Netflix again. Tim, however, knows that everything has a price and has an answer ready.

“You owe me for those files I decoded for you.”

Straight to the point. No bullshit. Jason is starting to really like this kid.

“Fair enough. You go follow your lead and I won’t murder you for being in my territory.”

“Always a pleasure doing business with you, Hood.”

Jason didn’t say anything about taking the night off, though.

Jason knows that, if he was working alone, Tim wouldn’t ask for permission. He would let himself in and out of Jason's territory assuming Jason wouldn’t even notice - he’d done it before as Robin, and Jason did notice but pretended not to. He can’t track Red Robin as easily, but the fact that he doesn’t want Red Hood around means there is something or someone he can’t control tagging along… and who’s the one person even Tim Drake can never control?

“Brat girl,” Jason mutters to himself, a cocky grin spreading on his face. One of his informants just confirmed he saw Batgirl driving whatever the fuck that is that capsule vehicle into an empty building just south of Jason’s place.

Oracle is probably out of town again, otherwise she wouldn’t allow her precious not-daughter to be messing around with Tim in Jason’s territory. But then, if most of the rumors are correct, even Barbara can’t quite control the new Batgirl.

He wonders what the duo are up to as he lets himself into the abandoned place through a hole in the ceiling. Red Hood walks on the rafters in the dark until he can hear familiar voices. He stops on his tracks when he notices that Red Robin and Batgirl aren’t alone. Wonder Girl and Impulse stick out like bright red sore thumbs against Gotham’s darkness.

Red Hood hears enough to know they’re planning on saving someone - one of Impulse’s friends? - from a local group connected to Black Mask. Their plan is solid, but it’s hardly a task herculean enough to warrant the presence of a speedster and an amazon. Red Robin makes it sound like it’s absolutely necessary nonetheless, assigning each of them a role that fits their powers and going over every little detail. It’s the first time Hood sees the kid in a position of leadership and he thinks it suits him. He seems extremely at ease.

Actually… that’s not quite it. He’s not as wary of the world as he is when he’s with the Batfamily. Not Batman’s perfect mini-detective, not Nightwing’s model little brother, not WE CEO. He’s still very much a hero, a Robin, but it’s possible to see he’s seventeen under the cowl. Even his posture changes, his shoulders relax and he allows himself to be… God, himself. That must be the first time Jason sees Tim completely in his element, no tension, no (metaphorical) masks.

Real Red Robin stays close to his friends. Very close. Hell, Impulse is almost sitting on his lap, his arm firmly wrapped around Red Robin’s waist as he points at some sort of map his wrist pad is showing. Batgirl is clinging to his other side, her chin resting on his shoulder using the excuse to see better what he’s showing. Hadn’t those two broken up?

Then Red Robin says something so softly not even Hood picks up. The other three teens get tense. Impulse nods and disappears in a gust of wind as his friends wait in silence.

Half a second later, something hits Hood’s back at a very alarming speed because of course Red Robin noticed someone listening and sent his speedster friend to get him. He curses while he falls, barely managing to roll fast enough to avoid serious knee damage when he lands.

“Jason!” Red Robin whines not unlike an embarrassed child crying out mom, not in front of my friends!

“Maybe check who’s spying on you before sending a child bullet careening into their back, will ya?” Jason complains.

Wonder Girl frowns. “Is that…”

“The Red Hood,” Batgirl confirms in a flat voice. “Yup.”

“Isn’t he a criminal?” Impulse asks, genuine curiosity in his voice.

A facepalming Red Robin groans. “He doesn’t do crime anymore.” Under Batgirl’s skeptical glare, he corrects, “He doesn’t do bad crimes anymore. What are you doing here, Hood? You said you were taking the night off!”

“I said I wouldn’t shoot you for being in my territory,” Hood corrects. “But I didn’t say anything about your super friends, because I didn’t think you’d be breaking so many rules in so little time. Really? Bringing metas to Gotham?”

Red Robin simply shrugs. “What Batman can’t see doesn’t hurt him.”

Batgirl snickers and Hood grins a little under his helmet.

“Little Timmy,” he gasps, resting his hand on his chest in mock shock.

“Shut up, why are you here?”

“What, you can’t tell me there is a case and expect me not to follow up.”

The other three kids look from Red Hood to Red Robin. It’s obvious that whatever Tim’s verdict is, they’re going to accept it. Even Stephanie. And she knows Jason (sort of).

“Fine,” Red Robin groans. “But no shooting anyone.”

“No promises.”

Wonder Girl and Impulse are obviously wondering whether they’re joking or not. Knowing they’re completely serious, Batgirl makes a face and pokes Red Robin’s cheek. He frowns at her and the two of them seem to have a conversation consisting of weird mouths and head shakes for a moment. Jason would know. He and Dick used to do that all the time. Finally, whatever face Red Robin is making convinces her and she lets out a defeated sigh.

“Well then, ladies,” Batgirl deadpans, “let’s get this bread.”

Despite Dick’s best efforts, Jason never quite fit in with the Titans. With Tim and Stephanie, however, he can work.

Breaking into one of Black Mask’s hideouts is a piece of cake, if not outright fun. He has to hand it to Stephanie. She is not as cunning as Barbara or as deadly as Cassandra, but the girl can blow up a marijuana deposit like no one else.

Sure, the smoke makes them at least 30% high—all of them except Impulse, whose metabolism won’t let him get intoxicated, to which… Just R.I.P. you funky little man, Jason really feels for him.

Even with the little diversion, there were still plenty of crooks to fight. Wonder Girl takes care of most of them on her own— amazons, man —and soon enough Impulse comes running, carrying a dark-skinned boy wearing power-dampening cuffs who keeps yelling at them in Spanish. At that, Red Robin announces they’re retreating.

Tim looks a lot more comfortable with his peers than he is with the Bats. Part of Jason wonders if he could’ve been like that. If he would have ended up differently if he had actually stayed with the Titans and made friends like Tim had. He tells himself not to go down that path, because he is who he is, he certainly doesn’t make friends in that teen sitcom way and you can’t change the past.

He is genuinely glad that Tim has those friends, though. He’s glad that he can feel that way despite the hint of jealousy.

As they leave a ruined hideout behind, Wonder Girl and Impulse are drowning Red Robin in hugs and cheering so loud one would forget they’re still in Gotham. Their friend laughs with them even with the stress of being so rambunctiously rescued. Batgirl slaps her arm around Hood’s shoulder and admires the Titans being loud as if congratulating themselves on the job done.

If all of them— all of them—are still smiling themselves silly as they leave, it’s only 50% because of the marijuana.

Jason quickly learns that Tim doesn’t like owing people. When Jason asked Tim to crack some encrypted documents, he just needed the damn files. He didn’t expect the kid to show up to tear down the place when Jason decided he had enough reason to dismantle the operation.

“What, you can’t tell me there is a case and expect me not to follow up,” Red Robin quips as he nudges a goon with his foot. The man groans, but doesn’t get up. Seemingly satisfied, Red Robin crouches down and starts cuffing the man to another by his side.

“Remind me to never ask for your help again,” Red Hood says.

Red Robin glowers. “I saved your ass from getting stabbed about three times.”

“I shot the kneecaps of four guys trying to murder you, so don’t expect me to thank you.”

They hear sirens. Red Robin stands. “Well, guess our job here is done.”

Hood nods. It’s been a while since he fought side by side with a fellow Bat, just him and another Robin and... it was nice. Roy and Kori are great partners and all, but they don’t have the same training a Robin does. They don’t get the specific maneuvers and the subtle secret signs. The fact that it had been so fun fighting side by side with Red Robin makes Jason feel like his not-plan of taking care of the kid was finally going somewhere.

Then Red Robin stretches his arm to grapple his way out of there and gasps.

“Red?”

“Uh…” He is now pressing his hand to his side.

“Is… is that blood?”

“Uhhhh…”

“Did you get stabbed and didn’t notice, you freaking idiot?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he groans, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes over the cowl. “Why me?”

Red Hood sighs. “Relax, kid, it doesn’t look that deep.”

“I’m gonna have to call Batman,” Red Robin whines. “A’s gonna kill me.”

“Over a tiny stab wound? Don’t be a pussy, I’m sure you can stitch that yourself.”

“The stitches aren’t the problem, it’s just the medicine…” Red Robin says, making vague hand gestures. “I have no spleen.”

And then there’s that.

“I’m sorry. You what?”

Red Robin pulls a guilty face visible even under the cowl. Jason wouldn’t blame Alfred for killing him. He has no spleen and he just… decided it was a good idea to bring a staff to a gunfight at one of the grimiest places of Gotham.

Tim Drake-Wayne, everyone, smartest Robin to date.

Jason, however, decides not to kill Tim for his stupidity. He recognizes that particular frown. It’s the I-messed-up-and-I-don’t-want-dad-to-find-out face.

The GCPD sirens are getting closer.

“I’ve got a big collection of antibiotics back at one of my safehouses,” he mentions casually. “I could patch you up so A doesn’t have to.”

Tim’s wide eyes are evident. Jason wonders if this is him being able to read the kid too well or if Tim straight up sucks at hiding his emotions. It’s probably a bit of both.

“You know. As thanks for helping me.”

“I thought you wouldn’t thank me.”

“Don’t push it, kid.”

By now, they can see the red and blue police lights.

“Lead the way.”

He rolls his eyes and drags the kid to his bike. He really hopes the pigs didn’t see them, because it’s bad enough that a hero showed up to Red Hood’s bust, he doesn’t need any cops thinking that he kidnapped Red Robin or any shit like that.

“Are we going to the one behind the new theater or the one around crime alley?” Tim casually asks.

Jason freezes halfway through mounting his bike. “How the fuck do you know about those?”

“I know the location of all of your safehouses,” Tim admits.

“Batman knows about my safehouses?”

Tim quirks an eyebrow. “Last time I checked, I’m not Batman.”

...oh.

That’s… nice. Kind of. A confirmation that he can trust the kid to have his back.

“Smug nerd,” Jason mumbles.

Tim only chuckles in response. They set off to Jason’s place.

The rest of the night is peaceful. At least for a Bat’s standards. Jason helps Tim disinfect his wound and stitch it closed while Tim raids Jason’s medicine stash until he finds the ones he needs. Jason promises to hook him up with his supplier so he doesn’t have to rely so much on the cave. By the time they’re done, Tim’s lips are permanently curled upwards.

When he starts shuffling awkwardly as if looking for a way to say goodbye, Jason nonchalantly announces where he can find clean towels and clothes, as if this is a thing they do everyday. Tim seems baffled, but thankfully he doesn’t call Jason’s bullshit and obediently heads to the bathroom. By the time he’s done, Jason is fixing a meal for the two of them and some stupid movie is on TV—never the news, god, Jason hates watching the news.

Like a skittish stray, Tim is unsure of what to do with himself at first, but he catches the cue fast enough. He sits on the couch all stiff and restless until something on the screen grabs his attention.

“You like Wendy the Werewolf Stalker?” Tim asks, eyes wide.

“Do I like fucking what?”

Jason just needed the background noise to avoid freaking out about how weird he’s being right now. Apparently, that was the wrong answer. Tim launches a rant on how amazing Wendy is and half of it goes over Jason’s head. He just gets that apparently Tim and Superboy both have a crush on this werewolf hunting chick and they used to spend hours watching her instead of doing actual work at Titans Tower.

He also manages to actually eat the food Jason made, which is a win in Jason’s book.

It’s a nice night, overall.

It becomes, not a habit, but a thing. Tim sometimes shows up to one of Jason’s safehouses needing a stitch job or medicine. Jason doesn’t know how he nails which one Jason is at currently or if he just goes to every single one still bleeding until he finds Jason. Or even if he just lets himself in and takes care of his wounds without any help. If so, Jason wouldn’t blame him. He’d choose his crappy hideouts over Tim’s soulless apartment any day.

On the third time it happens, Tim isn’t hurt at all. He just wants to bitch about Vicki Vale stalking him and his supposed ex-fiancée that he's actually trying to date. Jason feeds him real food, as usual, and listens to what he has to say, as unusual. They end up on the couch watching A Nightmare on Elm Street, which, oddly enough, has Tim getting overly enthusiastic about going to bed because he’s curious about the magic behind Freddy Krueger. Jason tells him to let him know if any dream demons show up when he leaves Tim dozing off on the couch.

Tim starts texting Jason. At first, it’s all very professional. Messages like 1 of the stupid crooks in your territory almost killed robin yesterday do smth abt it followed by I don’t care that he’s a demon in a kevlar vest Hood you didn’t have to deal with nightwing crying afterwards!!! Then they slowly shift into something more casual on the lines of is dis u? An d attached a picture of Elizabeth Bennet wearing the red Power Ranger helmet which… What sort of context led to that meme being created?

Jason pretends not to care, but he preens with pride when Tim laughs at his dark jokes. Stupid gallows humor that would have made Bruce call an expensive therapist and Dick squirm in discomfort have the kid snorting coffee out of his nose.

It’s like they’re friends.

Part of him sometimes toys with the idea of them being normal kids —or as normal as you can be in Gotham—and he realizes that he would’ve made friends with Tim so fucking fast. Dick is the golden child and all of them would end up worshiping him and respecting him as their older brother, of course. Tim would be added to their family and Jason, not-murdered, regular problem-child Jason, would resist him at first, but he would soon see that he wasn't just an annoying nerd. He was a fun, annoying nerd. They would gang up on Dick, as younger brothers ought to do, and Jason would protect Tim from bullies and Tim would use his good son credit to get Jason out of trouble with Bruce.

This, however, may be as good as it gets for people with their fucked up upbringing. Jason already knew Tim wasn’t your regular spoiled rich boy and they bond over having shit childhoods even if they don’t talk about it.

All in all it feels nice to be looked up to. To have the kid come to him when he’s in trouble. To have someone looking at him with a shine in his eyes like the one Jason has when he looks at Dick. It makes Jason feel like he’s worth something. He sees Tim get comfortable with him after weeks of acting like a stray cat and he knows the kid feels the same. It’s a new feeling for both of them.

It’s like they’re really brothers.

Being part of the Red Robin fan club, Jason finds out, gives him good credit with the Bats.

Bruce and Dick are always going to be concerned about Jason’s slightly loose moral compass. Gremlin is always going to hate him because he’s a Gremlin. Barbara tolerates him at best.

Stephanie, however, shows up unannounced to one of Red Hood’s busts and laughs it off when he complains about Batgirl ruining his rep. She then invites Jason to watch a movie with her since they finished early. He thinks that’d be very weird, so he refuses. Unbothered, she says an airy “Maybe next time” before leaving.

He thinks a shadow once told him to come by the manor more often, almost giving him a heart attack. He thought Cassandra was in Hong Kong, for fuck’s sake; when did she come back?

One time he texts Tim for tech support and no one but the Signal shows up at Jason’s doorstep with a codebreaker and a list of instructions from Red Robin. Duke doesn’t look as wary of Jason as he once was and the two quickly fall into friendly banter, complaining about Tim’s nerdiness.

Jason knows if he asked Steph about it, he would never hear the end of it. Cass isn’t the easiest person to hold a conversation with. He guesses Duke is decent enough not to dwell on it, so he asks,

“Why are y’all suddenly okay with me?”

Duke quirks an eyebrow at him. Fortunately, he’s smart enough that Jason doesn’t need to explain further. “Tim trusts you,” he says simply. “Tim is the holder of the one brain cell of this family, so long we follow his cues, we’re golden.”

Jason doesn’t know what to say to that.

“Why, you don’t want us around?”

He mumbles something about it not being a big deal. Duke shrugs it off and changes the subject. Jason knows he’s doing it for his sake, because Duke might be the kindest person in their whole messed up family. Jason feels bad for refusing to learn his name for so long.

So it seems like two-thirds of the Batgirls and Signal were always less worried about Jason’s past than they were about his rivalry with Robin III.

And, fine, Jason does get a little jealous of that but he’s mature-ish enough to take what he can get. Plus Stephanie is funny as shit and it’s always fun to annoy Barbara by getting Batgirl involved in his fights, especially when Red Robin is around to back him up.

Everything is sort of nice now.

Sometimes, however, Jason wakes up in a cold sweat with the taste of copper in his mouth and a nightmare gunshot still ringing in his ears. He tried to kill Tim. He could’ve killed his little brother. He’s thankful for the times the nightmares come when Tim is sleeping over, because he can walk to the living room and check on the kid. Remind himself that Tim is alive and breathing under the old blankets and that he’s forgiven Jason. When he isn’t around, Jason is absolutely not above calling him in the middle of the night, making up a stupid case he needs Tim’s help with. For all his smarts, Tim never seems to realize Jason’s true motives.

Now that he thinks about it, he notices that Tim is on good terms with a lot of people that tried to kill him. Jason. Damian. That Prudence girl. He doesn’t find out the details, but he does hear something about Stephanie fucking him up and she’s now his best friend. Jason is more than a little concerned about that forgiving side of his.

Red Hood hates a lot of things. If he were to make a list, it’d take days to write it all down. He knows for sure that on the top of that list would be clowns. There is nothing he hates more than clowns.

Scarecrows are a close second, though.

Definitely close to a tie as he watches Red Robin stumble. “I think…” he mutters. “I think my rebreather is broken.”

“ Shit.”

Red Hood has to think fast. Fear gas is every-fucking-where and he lost sight of Scarecrow three canon-fodder crooks ago. He doesn’t have an extra rebreather, because he’s wearing his helmet and that does the job. He’s used to fighting alone. Not that having another rebreather would do them any good now that Red Robin has already breathed the nasty toxins.

In the end, Hood decides to take the defeat for what it is: a defeat. He throws a smoke bomb on the ground and grabs Red Robin by the waist, ignoring the startled squeak the boy lets out. They need to get out before Scarecrow’s goons realize what they’re doing.

“Stay with me,” Red Hood hisses. “Whatever you’re hearing or seeing, it’s not real.”

They’re five minutes away from his nearest safehouse. It’d be faster to take one of their bikes, but he can’t risk it in case Tim starts hallucinating halfway there. They can make it there swinging, he can keep his brother out of danger.

“I’m fine,” Red Robin says. The way he’s limp in Hood’s hold, says otherwise. “We’re going home. We’re safe.”

“We’re going home. Close your eyes. Focus on my voice.”

He does it.

“It’s just us now,” Hood reassures him. “We’re on the way to a safehouse where no one can find us and you can rest until the toxin is out of your system. Safe, easy.”

“Steph is fine, Bart is fine, Cassie is fine,” he chants, “Cass is fine, Alfred is fine, Dick is fine, Tam is fine, Pru is fine.”

He keeps listing people that are fine, because of course his fears are all about his friends being hurt. Surprisingly, Hood recognizes all of them. He’s heard Tim talking about all of them repeatedly and he knows their names and personalities, even if he doesn’t have all the faces to match. He isn’t surprised that his friends come first then their family.

“That’s right, kiddo,” Jason encourages. “Who else?”

“Dad..” Tim’s eyes shoot open. “Dad’s gonna kill me. Dad, Dad will know I’m Robin, he’s- He’s gonna take Robin away from me, I can’t- This is the first time I’m being useful.”

Fuck.

“Your dad isn’t here. And you’re not Robin, kid, you’re Red Robin,” Jason reminds him.

“That’s… that’s right. I failed him. I failed Dick, so…”

Double fuck.

“That’s bullshit,” Jason says, but it’s hard to keep the conversation going while he’s carrying Tim’s weight.

They’re two minutes away from safety before Tim starts struggling to get away from Jason. He doesn’t say anything else, which may be more concerning, he just grunts with the effort and squirms. Jason really hopes no one was paying attention enough to notice what looks like Red Hood kidnapping a terrified Red Robin.

“Shit- Stay put, Red, we’re almost home,” Jason says.

Tim’s breath catches and returns, erratic, and Jason can’t bear to look at his horrified face, he hates to see the utter fear that has his brother’s already pale complexion turn ashen, his lips pressed into a line so tight it has got to hurt. Jason starts listing the names of the people that are supposedly fine and that catches Tim’s attention long enough that Jason can swing straight to the fire escape of the abandoned building where he set his hideout.

He sets Tim on the dusty mattress on the corner in a hurry and tosses his helmet aside. He starts undoing Tim’s safety measures so he can remove his cowl. Unlike Jason, he doesn’t wear a domino mask beneath it and Jason makes a mental note of talking to Tim about that later.

“Almost there, Timbers,” Jason says. He rips off his own domino without caring about the sting, hoping a familiar face will help. “I’m here. Now, where do you keep your fear gas antidote? I know you carry some around.”

Tim unconsciously reaches for a particular capsule on his bandolier. That’s enough of an answer for Jason, who pushes his hand away not as gently as he should and reaches for the small vial inside.

“Jay,” Tim whines. “Jay, you’re okay, right?”

Jason blinks, confused. “Of course I’m okay, Timbers. I’m right here.”

And as he rushes to grab the first aid kit under the sink, Jason starts to freak out. This gas isn’t causing hallucinations as much as it’s making Tim feel paranoid, it seems. What if it’s a new formula? What if the antidote doesn’t work? What if Tim keeps having anxious thought after anxious thought, until his heart gives in and-

“Jay!” Tim calls, desperate. “Jay, we have to get Kon! He’s- He’s in danger.” He starts getting up.

“Nope!” Jason pushes him right back into the mattress. “Kon is fine, he’s invulnerable, remember? He’s probably doing superdouche stuff in Metropolis.”

“He’s not, he’s- He’s gonna kill himself, Jay!” There are tears welling up in his eyes and Jason feels like someone just punched him in the gut. After all the shit they went through, he had never seen Tim cry. “He’s gonna sacrifice himself to save everyone, I can’t lose him, please, I’ll do it instead. He’s- No! Please, don’t do it!”

There we go. There are the hallucinations they all know and hate. Tim stretches out his hand as if he’s reaching for an invisible Superboy, so Jason takes the opportunity to start rolling up his sleeve and cleaning the inside of his elbow. Lucky for him, he always has a sanitized syringe. Now he just needs Tim to stay still.

What if it doesn’t work? What if I make it worse?

“Kon El, no,” Tim gasps. “KON EL! CONNER!”

Jason had never seen Impulse going full speed. But he did meet Barry Allen back when he was Robin and he never forgot the deafening noise of someone breaking the barrier of sound. More familiar is the noise of his freaking wall exploding. Before Jason realizes, he’s being ripped away from his screaming brother. He hacks and struggles, but there isn’t a lot he can do when a kryptonian steel arm presses against his throat, effectively pinning him to the wall.

“Give me one reason not to kill you,” Superboy growls, his eyes already glowing red.

Jason would be impressed with the boy’s ability to look murderous if he wasn’t about to have his head melted. He struggles a little more. Superboy doesn’t even seem to notice. Jason then pathetically raises the syringe in his hand and manages to choke out:

“A-antidote.”

Superboy blinks once. His eyes return to the regular shade of blue. He blinks twice. His expression shows only confusion when he releases Jason, that promptly falls on his knees. Jason coughs, touching his throat as if to make sure it’s still intact. Damn clone.

“What happened to him?” Superboy demands.

Tim isn’t trying to get up anymore, but rather convulsing on the same spot, screaming wordlessly in horror, tears streaming freely down his pale cheeks.

Jason coughs some more before he’s able to say something. “A-ask that first next time, will you? It’s… it’s fear gas.”

“And, what, am I supposed to believe you were helping him?” Superboy snarls.

Jason groans. He doesn’t have time for this. Tim has his eyes firmly shut and every scream, every time his voice breaks, it feels like someone is slashing at Jason’s chest, robbing him of air almost as effectively as Superboy did.

“I was about to do that before you interrupted,” Jason shows him the syringe again. “What do you think?”

Superboy squints at him, unhappy with his response.

“We don’t have time for that,” Jason snarls. “At this point, he’s gonna have a heart attack. I need you to hold him still.”

Superboy bites his lip in hesitation but Tim screams his name again and he winces as if the sound is kryptonite for his ears. Finally, he nods and crouches down by the mattress.

“It’s okay, Rob,” he says. “I’m here now. I’ve got you.”

At that, Tim miraculously relaxes for a second. Jason kneels by his side again and holds the outstretched arm Superboy is keeping still.

“Don’t hurt him,” Jason warns. Judging by the look Superboy gives him, the only reason he’s not getting the laser eye treatment is because he’s the only one around capable of helping Tim.

“No,” Tim whines. “Not Jason…”

Jason freezes. Superboy’s eyes start to glow again.

“Not Jason, not again,” Tim continues, delirious, his expression twisting in pain. “Please, please, don’t, help him, HELP HIM!”

Jason stabs the needle into his pale skin and it’s a miracle that he does it right, because he is shaking. Fuck this. Fuck Scarecrow. It’s wrong, it’s horrible to hear Red Robin begging like that. He hates the way the kid startles with the needle. He’s thankful that Superboy makes sure Tim stays put, because he doesn’t think his trembling hands could do that now.

“It’s okay, Timbers,” Jason hears himself saying, “it’s over now.”

“Please,” Tim sobs again, “I- I’m gonna solve this.”

God. Jason grabs his hand. “You did enough, baby bird. You solved enough already.”

Tim whimpers, but finally starts relaxing. It seems like the antidote is working its magic and the boy falls right asleep.

Superboy refuses to leave, much to Jason’s chagrin. It doesn’t surprise him, though. Conner is Tim’s favorite conversation subject when he’s in a good mood and apparently the clone is ready to just fly to Gotham if he hears Tim’s voice.

“You know, metas aren’t allowed here,” Jason reminds him.

Superboy has been stomping back and forth around Tim’s mattress. He's so angry that Jason is worried he’ll break the floor any minute now, but he stops to give Jason the biggest, meanest glower of the night. He doesn’t look anything like the mental picture Tim painted of him. Even with his ripped skinny jeans and 90’s leather jacket and dumb earrings, Superboy looks absolutely murderous.

“I’m not going anywhere until I see that Tim’s fine,” he says.

Jason sighs.

“Why are we here?” Superboy snaps. “Why didn’t you call Alfred or… or Batman or…”

“Because we don’t do that,” Jason cuts him. “Red Robin is not Batman's sidekick. If we can solve shit without involving Batman, we don’t involve Batman.”

It’s their unspoken rule, Jason knows that since the first time they fought side by side - the first time they had a sleepover - and he brought Tim home to patch him up. They don’t call dad or their older bro if they’re in trouble, because that’ll lead to them being in more trouble. They simply watch out for each other as much as they can.

Superboy isn’t happy with that explanation, but, before he can murder Jason for real, Tim stirs.

Jason and Superboy are kneeling by his side at the same time, which says something, since Jason doesn't have superspeed.

“Timbers?” Jason calls.

“Jay…?” Tim mumbles and his voice is still a little raw from all the screaming. He blinks and his eyes set on his best friend. “Conner? What are you doing here?”

“You called,” Superboy says simply. “I told you all you had to do was call my name.”

“How’s the head?” Jason asks. “You're still smart, right? You can’t afford to lose your brain cells, Timbers, with your ugly face they’re all you have.”

Tim snorts. Then groans. “Fuck off, Jason, don’t make me laugh.”

Jason smiles at him and he doesn’t notice the weird look Superboy is giving them.

“Rob? Do you remember what happened?”

Tim starts to sit up and Superboy is faster than Jason in wrapping an arm around his shoulders to steady him. He helps Tim rest his back against the wall and the grateful look Tim gives him makes Jason frown a bit because he feels there is something there he’s missing.

“Hmmm… We were fighting Scarecrow,” Tim says. “Fear gas, broken rebreather...” He looks at Jason as if seeking for confirmation. When Jason nods, he continues, “Jay got me out of there and the rest is… Wait. Where is Scarecrow? Did he escape?”

“That should be the last of your worries, Timothy, you almost died of fear,” Superboy scolds.

Tim sighs. “Oh, to be a young vigilante in the XXI century… passing away of fright.”

Superboy doesn’t get it, judging by his expression, but Jason does and he laughs out loud. He doesn’t miss the way Tim’s lip quirk up.

“See, baby bird, this is why I wear a helmet and so should you,” Jason says.

“Okay, but have you considered that we’d look stupid if we were all the man in the iron mask?”

Jason raises an eyebrow. “God forbid a whole family fighting criminals in leather fursuits look stupid. We wouldn’t fucking want that.”

Tim laughs, even if his voice is still a little hoarse, and Jason is relieved.

He is so relieved to see his brother fine that he doesn’t pay attention to the fact that Superboy still has his arm around Tim’s shoulders. That Superboy’s eyes get all soft when Tim laughs. That Superboy looks a little hurt when he offers to fly Tim home, but Tim refuses, saying that he’d rather spend the rest of the night here.

“I mean, if that’s fine…?” He glances at Jason, reminding him of those first sleepovers, when he was still unsure whether he’d be welcome or not.

Jason is so done feeling or letting his brother feel like an outsider. “The mattress is big enough for both of us, I don’t see why you’d go back to your own apartment when you can just sleep on a perfectly good mattress on the floor.”

“Hm. Cool then,” Superboy says, but instead of flying out through the giant hole he made on the wall, he shifts his weight from one foot to another awkwardly, clearly stalling.

Both brothers notice it. Neither has a problem interpreting Superboy’s fidgeting. Jason finds it annoying, but Tim gives him a pleading look. Jason sighs.

“You can stay too, big guy, but you gonna have to sleep on the floor.”

Superboy’s face lights up and he definitely doesn’t look like he wanted to melt Jason’s head just a couple of minutes ago. He rambles that it’s all good, he just needs to text Ma Kent to let her know where he is and he’s used to sleeping on the floor of the barn with Krypto and the cows (Jason would find that more upsetting if he didn’t know there is a cow somewhere in the Wayne manor too and Damian sleeps in the cave with it all the time).

In the end, Tim bullies Jason into giving Superboy the thickest blanket he has around. He tries suggesting he should sleep in the blanket and let Jason and Superboy share the mattress, but shuts up mid sentence under their glares.

It’s probably the most awkward sleepover so far, but Tim grins at Jason, grateful, and turns his back to him to be able to talk to Superboy in hushed whispers.

Jason tunes out their conversation and focuses on the fact that he did it. He saved Tim. It doesn’t make up for the times he fucked up in the past, but it sure makes him feel better about the present. He’s also thankful that Tim stayed instead of going to his own place. Hearing your little brother scream in fear for your life isn’t something enjoyable and Jason is sure he would have nightmares about if it wasn’t for the fact that Tim was laying right there in front of him. It’s the sound of his brother’s muffled laughter, mixed with Superboy’s, that lulls him to sleep.

Jason should have noticed then. But he didn’t.

For an intelligent guy, Jason can be really stupid sometimes.

The thing is… Jason is smart. He’s not Tim Drake smart, but he’s still a good detective. He’s also fairly sociable. Or at least he used to be, before he, you know, died and went through all the trauma, etc. He is no Dick Grayson, but he can hold a good conversation, pick up the right social cues, all that crap.

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t mess up sometimes.

You see, months go by. Red Hood and Red Robin don’t often go on the field together, after all it’d do a number to both of their reputations, but, when they do, one of them always ends up injured and the other carries him home. It’s like a curse, the universe telling them to stick to their off-patrol partnership. Then a couple of weeks go by and they miss the feeling of fighting side-by-side and there they go again.

Tim keeps showing up at Jason’s place whenever he feels like it and he even hangs around Jason’s visiting friends sometimes. Kori adores Tim from the first time she puts her eyes on him. Roy takes a little longer to warm up, but even he can’t resist the kid. Jason likes it. He likes having his brother around. He likes that they get on like a house on fire.

So much he forgets Tim is a master of hiding shit.

On the week nearing Tim’s 19th birthday, Jason goes to his apartment. He doesn’t realize until he’s halfway there that he hadn’t been to Tim’s place since the night he met Prudence, which is odd, because it’d been basically a year and a half. Still, Tim goes over to Jason’s place all the time. The fact that Jason doesn’t repay the favor has everything to do with the fact that Jason hates Tim’s magazine apartment and nothing else.

Right?

Instead of going for the door, Jason uses his signature move and just swings to the balcony. The door is unlocked - Jason really has to have a talk with Tim about security, they’re in Gotham, for fuck’s sake - and he lets himself in.

To Tim’s credit, the place looks more well lived in now. There are mismatched pillows on the couch, a forgotten mug and a couple of books on the coffee table. Jason recognizes his copy of The Count of Monte Cristo and makes an annoyed sound noticing Tim’s bookmarker is still somewhere in the middle of the book even if it’s been weeks since Jason let him borrow it.

“Tim?” Jason calls. It’s half past nine, a little early for vigilante standards, but…

He hears the sound of someone sputtering and coughing from the kitchen. There he is.

Jason heads there and finds Tim desperately grabbing paper towels to clean coffee he apparently just spilled on his bare chest.

“J-Jason!”

“Jumpy aren’t we?” Jason comments. “What’s up, baby bird?”

It’s clear that Tim had just woken up, judging by his messy hair and the fact that he’s wearing nothing but red sweatpants with Superman’s symbol all over. His mildly terrified expression is weird, though. Tim is usually slow in the morning, but not that easy to startle.

“What are you doing here?” Tim whispers, clearly panicking.

The fact that Jason never visits Tim’s place suddenly comes to his mind. The possibility of him not being welcome hits him and it’s surprisingly painful. He thought they were doing well, that the kid liked him. All this time, was he being arrogant?

As his brain scrambles for something to say, something to think, he notices a sound that he hadn’t registered before: the shower.

Suddenly Tim’s rapidly reddening cheeks and doe wide eyes gain a new meaning. Jason forgets the hurt and a sly smile stretches on his face.

“Oh my god. Oh god, this is priceless. Baby bird, do you have a lady guest from last night?”

Tim makes a weird choking sound and this is too good, Jason is too delighted, look at little Timmy go, already getting it. (Jason would’ve chosen different pants for the morning after, but alas.)

Then a voice calls out: “Sweetheart, are you okay?”

A male voice.

Tim’s face becomes three shades darker, now perfectly matching his pants. Jason’s grin is now frozen on his face, his eyes wide with the realization.

The shower stops.

“Tim?” The voice calls again.

“I’m fine, Kon!” Tim responds and his voice is surprisingly even, considering he looks like he’s having an aneurysm.

That’s a bat for you. Master of hiding their emotions.

Sort of.

Kon, Tim said. Jason realizes that Tim isn’t wearing Superman merch. The sweatpants are Superboy themed.

Jason still remembers Superboy’s protective streak all those months ago and the fact that he woke up to the two of them holding hands - at the time, he thought nothing of it, because it had been a stressful night and he didn’t blame either boy for wanting to make sure the other was okay - and he thinks of all the subsequent times Tim went on and on about Conner and how a couple of weeks ago Tim just stopped mentioning Conner altogether.

God, Jason is the worst detective ever.

Tim pushes Jason out of the kitchen and towards the living room, presumably farther from the bathroom where his boyfriend with super hearing was showering.

“Fuck,” Tim mutters, “ fuckfuckfuck… ”

And he looks and sounds so distraught that Jason loses all the eagerness to tease him, concern quickly replacing any initial surprise he might have been feeling.

“Look,” Tim murmurs, looking anywhere but at Jason’s eyes, “it’s not… we’re just…”

Tim scrambles for words and this is so unlike him - Tim always has a plan, always knows what to say - it takes a moment for Jason to catch up on why he’s a stuttering mess. Jason had been so excited to find out his little brother had a boyfriend he forgot he lived in a world where homophobia was a thing.

“Timbers, chill out.” Jason grabs Tim’s hands from where they’re still resting on his shoulders. “It’s just me.”

Tim dares raise his gaze to meet Jason’s and it hurts a bit to see still a little fear in his blue eyes. Jason gives him an encouraging grin.

“I can’t believe you officially bagged a kryptonian. Way to go, kid.”

His shoulders slouch in utter relief right before he starts blushing again. What a cute kid.

“You keep calling me kid. You’re not that older. And don’t say it like that,” Tim mumbles.

“Like what? Like you’re snogging Superboy?” Tim punches him on the shoulder and Jason laughs. “Now I know why you were in such a hurry to leave the manor, you wanted your own place to bring your boyfriend over…”

“That’s not why I left and who said anything about a boyfriend? Maybe this was just a one night stand.”

Jason gives him a condescending look. “Timbers, I might have not realized you’re gay, but I do know you. You’re a boyfriend kinda guy.”

Tim rolls his eyes and mumbles something about assuming shit. “I’m bi,” he says.

“Cool,” Jason says, a shit-eating grin never leaving his face.

“Fuck,” Tim groans and lets himself fall on the couch. “How do you de-escalate an emotional situation so fast?”

“It’s a Bat thing, and you know how to do it too. All of us are trained to avoid emotions like the plague.”

“I was not prepared to come out when I got up this morning,” Tim admits.

Humming, Jason finally realizes that Tim doesn’t want to skip the emotions for this one. He sighs. The things he does for his brothers.

“It’s not a big deal, though,” he says. “I mean, you’re happy right?”

“I’m never happy.”

“Don’t quote Zuko. You started the real talk. You don’t get to bat your way out of it now.”

A sigh. “I’m happy. Conner is… the best.”

Jason nods. “Then it’s all good. I’m sure all the others would say the same.”

“You can't tell them!” Tim snaps, his eyes suddenly wide with panic again. “Seriously, Jay, you can’t-”

“Calm down, kid,” Jason cuts him off. “When did I make a habit of spilling your secrets to the B-man? It's none of their business.” Tim visibly relaxes and Jason adds: “Actually… Want me to make your house Dick-proof?”

“...what?”

“I mean, not kryptonian dick, you’re clearly into that,” and he ignores it when Tim pops him on the back of the head. “I mean Dick Dick, our brother. I could set up a better security system so you don’t have to worry about one of your siblings walking into something scarring, especially the clingy one.”

“No security system can stop Dick’s clinginess.”

“How do you think I keep him off my place?”

That’s when their little pow wow gets interrupted by more kryptonian skin than Jason ever wanted to see as Conner walks in with nothing but the smallest of the towels wrapped around his waist.

“Babe, what is--” He notices Jason and slips on literally nothing, barely catching himself before falling on his ass. “ Shit- I mean, nothing, I mean, we were just binging Wendy!”

Jason doesn’t say anything, but he does give Tim a look that says it all. He wasn't judging earlier, but he is now. Tim gives him a look that definitely means shut up.

In the end, Jason stays for breakfast.

It’s only mildly awkward, because he and Tim fill the silence talking about the latest case Jason’s working on while Conner makes them pancakes. Judging by the fact that he’s getting the ingredients from a bunch of plastic bags, he must have brought all the food with him. If anything, Jason is grateful that he and Alfred are no longer the only people trying to get Tim to eat actual food.

When Tim turns to Conner for his opinion, leaving Jason to enjoy his coffee, Jason looks around and notices that there are new pictures on the fridge. There are some of those disgustingly cute pictures of Tim and Conner, their cheeks pressed together as they make weird faces for the camera. There is a picture of Conner by himself and, again disgustingly, he is smiling at the camera as though the most precious person in the world is behind it. Both pictures are held by a sun magnet. There is a new candid shot of Cassandra, one of Alfred-Alfred holding cat Alfred, a new one of Dick and even Damian is in there.

And, his heart stops for a second, because now there are pictures of Jason as well.

They’re carefully placed far from each other, but there are three different pictures. There is one of Jason wearing his Lord of the Rings shirt, eating cereal on the couch, a confused expression on his face. He remembers when Tim took that picture, because Tim waited until Jason had his mouth full before calling hey Jay? and snapping the picture right as Jason looked at him, his cheeks like a chipmunk's. The second picture is a candid of him smiling, leaning against the rail of some safehouse balcony. The shot was carefully framed to not show anything distinct of the surroundings, just Jason and Gotham’s sky.

The third one is a selfie. In it, Jason is asleep, his lips parted and face relaxed, his head resting on Tim’s shoulder. Tim has a shit eating grin on his lips as if there is nothing funnier to him than his giant older brother falling asleep on him in the middle of movie night. Tim had the decency of drawing a mustache on Jason’s face to decrease sappiness, but that effect is ruined by the fact that the picture is held by a magnet that was clearly Iron Man but Tim had painted it red to look like Jason’s hood.

Jason had sworn off killing, at least for a little while.

But he would gladly kill again for his little brother.

As he gets ready to leave, he turns to Conner and deadpans, “I don’t have to tell you that I can and I will make kryptonite bullets, do I?”

“Jason!” Tim scolds.

“What? I’m the first of the family to find out. Least I can do is taje care of the shovel talk.”

“Stop threatening my boyfriend.”

Conner blushes profusely and mouths the word boyfriend with marvel and ugh. Just… ugh . Jason is happy that Tim is happy, but he and Conner are apparently that kind of couple and Jason wants to have none of it.

“So, first we kill Damian,” Jason starts.

“No,” Tim says.

“Aw, come on, you didn’t even consider it!”

Cassandra waits until they decide their plan of action (it’s probably going to be Tim’s) and keeps her expression carefully neutral as not to show which one of them she agrees with (Tim).

The thing, Jason realized, is that all of them have favorites in their family and knowing that makes it easier to tear them down. Dick can fuck off with his I love you all equally bullshit, because he clearly always favors Damian. Damian swings between Batdad’s little boy and Nightwing’s murder baby. Tim will easily lose focus whenever Steph is involved. Steph is oddly protective of Duke, for some reason. Cassandra is mostly neutral. She’s everyone’s favorite, including Bruce’s, but she’s also the deadliest of them all so she is no one’s weakness. She does, however, have a soft spot for Tim over any of her brothers. Since Jason became close friends with Tim, he entered Cassandra’s selective protection bubble and he’s now, by all definitions, untouchable.

Or at least that’s how he felt when she chose him for her team right after Tim.

“We kill Dick first,” Tim knocks down the little Nightwing action figure on the carpet. “Cass, you’re the only one who can take him down. Jay and I distract the others while you do the job. Damian will get personally offended by that and will grow reckless.” He knocks down the little imp figurine. “I can take care of him then. Steph will be hiding somewhere ready to strike. She is best in close range combat. Jay, I need you to take her down before she gets too close.” He pushes down the Barbie doll someone dressed as Batgirl, because apparently they couldn’t find blonde Batgirl merch and they were very offended. “Then we win.”

He may sound impressive, but the whole time he’s speaking he has his head resting on Cass’ lap and she is carding her fingers through his hair as a villain would do to their evil pet cat.

“Can’t I murder the demon brat?” Jason complains.

Tim glares at him - again, not very intimidating while he’s basically lying on his sister’s lap.

“You know Steph would wipe the floor with me. You’re the only one I can trust to get her.”

“Unless…” Jason turns around. “Du-”

“No.”

“Come on, I’ll give you ten bucks.”

“Jason, we’re all rich, you can’t buy me.” Duke doesn’t even raise his eyes from his book. “Plus last time I let y’all drag me into this shit, Steph knocked off one of my teeth with Tim’s staff.”

“If you hadn’t killed me, then she wouldn’t have taken revenge,” Tim argues.

“And yet you’re planning to kill Dick counting on the fact that Damian will try to avenge him.”

“Wet blanket,” Cassandra says.

Tim and Jason go into a giggling fit as Duke sputters, too indignant to put his thoughts into words.

In the end, Duke still doesn’t join them.

As they expected, the enemy was listening to their plan - Jason is sure Dick was against it, but Stephanie and Damian are definitely not above spying - nonetheless they still played their parts as expected: Steph and Damian tried protecting Dick first and foremost, but not even the two of them combined could take Cassandra. Not with Jason and Tim backing her up.

Cassandra knocks Dick down and sits on his back. The large yellow paint splash on his chest proves that he’s dead. Rather than being upset, Dick starts doing push ups with his sister there as the rest of his siblings and Steph fight to death.

Unfortunately, Damian wasn’t as angered by Dick’s demise as they expected and is still a good match for Tim. Until Tim gasps and goes Titus, don’t eat that! It was an obvious ploy, but still got Damian to let down his guard and whip his head around looking for his precious dog. Tim shoots him without hesitation and Damian goes on a rage soliloquy.

Jason would appreciate it if he wasn’t having such a hard time with Stephanie. Apparently Barbara has been feeding her steroids, because the girl is now as quick as a ninja. She hits Jason in the kneecaps with Tim’s staff - they’re not even in the same team this time, how the fuck did she get Tim’s staff??? - and shoots him point blank in the chest. And damn, that shit hurts. He bets it’s purple under his shirt too.

Steph is mid celebration when her victory whoop turns into a pained groan. Twin splotches of red and yellow bloom on her back as Cassandra and Tim lower their guns.

“Fuck,” Jason complains. “Couldn’t’ve done that before she killed me?”

“We win,” Cassandra says.

“Shouldn’t you be fighting to the death now?” Dick asks. Now that Cass is off his back, he’s lying on the side like one of your French girls. Jason wishes Cass would shoot him again.

“I would never betray Cass,” Tim says.

“We rule together.” She walks to him and stands on her tiptoes to kiss his forehead.

Tim grins a wicked grin because he knows he is Cassandra’s favorite and everyone can die mad about it.

Steph and Damian start shouting their complaints at the same time while Dick laughs his ass off. From his lawn chair, Duke is glaring at them as if he can’t believe he’s legally related to any of these weirdos.

His gaze meets Dick’s and his older brother looks absolutely elated with pride even though all of their siblings are yelling about paintball.

Jason simply smiles back.

#jason todd #tim drake #red hood #red robin #batfam #batfam big bang 2020 #poteto writing #red bros #collab

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thestarkerisobvious · 3 years

Text

Ghosting You -- Chapters 10 and 11

by myself and the late @von--gelmini

Ghosting You -- Chapters 10 and 11

my amazing art by @mrstarksbaby

The Previous Chapters Are He

Chapter 10: Tony – Coming Of Age

Tony listened to FRIDAY’s report about Peter. He didn’t listen to the conversation itself. He didn’t listen to Peter’s voice. That would be too much. “He’s questioning himself,” she says. “He’s afraid he’s not… worthy.”

“That’s good. He’s coming of age. He should have half a million questions about himself and his place in the world every day. It’s what your late teens and 20s are for,” he chuckled, remembering his.

But then he frowned, also remembering his late teens and 20s and how he fell face first into a mountain of cocaine and other drugs and drink. Peter was headed to be more like him than Tony wanted. ‘I wanted you to be better.’ The words he’d said to him on the rooftop echoed in his mind. That tendency he’d have to monitor closely. Find some way to stop him. Maybe just having FRIDAY to talk to would help. Until he got off his ass and decided if — how — he would make his return.

Chapter 11: Peter – It Does Not Do Well To Dwell On Dreams

“You’re up, kid.”

Peter moaned and cringed inside the dream. Knowing it was a dream didn’t stop him from moaning. Didn’t stop his heart from pounding. Didn’t stop his cock from getting hard.

He did a triple somersault and landed effortlessly on the side of the wall. Not that it mattered. He bullseyed the fire hydrant and tossed it aside easily, sending up a torrent of water creating a world of steam. Not that that mattered. The elemental punched the wall and he jumped aside. He tried to jump out of the dream, tried to jump to safety. But of course he couldn’t. He knew this dream. It had to happen the same way, no matter how much he hated it.

“No, Beck! He’s got the carousel! He’s getting bigger!” he was shouting now (he wanted to shout something else. Something along the lines of “Liar!” and “Thief!” and a few other things that wouldn’t make sense to anyone else but him. But the dream soldiered on mercilessly.)

Now Quentin was flying in front of him, “saving” him from the elemental, asking “Go to plan B?” (or, “That hurt him, keep ‘em comin’”) in that breathless, urgent way that made Peter’s entire body hard with pride and longing. As if they were really partners. As if they were really equals. As if it weren’t all a scam.

Then the horrible part, the part Peter never wanted to see again. If he could have cut out part of his brain to prevent THAT part of the dream, he would have. The part where Quentin was down on the ground and Peter, the moron, thought the man was actually hurt. That the man might actually die. His stomach sinking, his heart racing, he, and rushed to the man’s side. Shouting “Mr. Beck! Mr. Beck!” like the naïve child he was.

Peter cringed at the memory, but even then, he didn’t try to wake himself up. Not yet. And then that part of the dream was over and Peter was desperately trying to wake himself up. Before the next part.

Before the dirty part.

The dream was skipping over Nick Fury’s roll, and that was a mercy. Sometimes the dream did that, cut out all the middle men, all the minor characters. It was only him and Quentin now, looking at each other through the smoke, through the haze. Fury had said something, something vague, something unpleasant, something about the future. Then he faded into the fuzzy edges of the dream, leaving Peter and Quentin alone. And Quentin stood. And there it was…. Quentin’s hand on his shoulder. Quentin’s hand brushing, for just for a ghost of a second, the side of his face.

Then the words… “Let’s get a drink.”

And now he was fighting it, fighting to wake up, because this is where the memory always ended. This is where the dream always launched into the fantasy.

Sometimes Quentin led him back to a hidden place in SHIELD headquarters. Sometimes it was his own secret headquarters. Sometimes a gateway that took them right back to Quentin’s universe and sometimes it was just the nearest alleyway where Quentin pushed him up against the wall. Usually their outfit disappeared magically… although sometimes Peter’s suit refused to come off leaving him embarrassed and frustrated. Sometimes Quentin mumbled something about the memory of his dead wife in between kissing Peter fiercely, but most of the time he said nothing at all (except for those times he made Peter’s spine light up like a Christmas tree by whispering “kid” but Peter couldn’t admit to those times.) Every time it was rough. Every time Peter gave himself to Quentin’s powerful arms (he was stronger than Quentin, so much stronger, but oh it felt so good to let someone else be strong for a while.) Every time he let Quentin push into him hot and dirty (sometimes teasing him, leaning forward to growl into his ear or turning around to look him in the eye. “Is that all you’ve got, Beck?”) Every time they went far too fast, too desperate, for Quentin to ever guess that it was Peter’s first time...

Peter shook himself, almost shouted himself awake. This time he succeeded, opening his eyes in his dark bedroom before the real action began. He bit his lip hard to keep quiet, trying not to wake the sleeping household. He congratulated himself, even as he leapt out of the bed and tore himself free of the tangled covers. Congratulated himself on getting free of the dream in time. He couldn’t always do it, but it felt good when he did. It was absurd, but it still felt great. To leave that dream-Quentin behind, alone and frustrated. The idea of the man in that dream, standing alone facing the hideout/hotel/alley wall, surprised and blinking and confused as hell when Dream-Peter disappeared.

Real-Peter did what he always did after these dreams. He went to the kitchen to wash his face and neck with cold water, making sure he was well awake before taking care of himself. He felt no shame, taking care of himself after a dream like that. As long as he was completely awake.

As long as he wasn’t thinking about Quentin.

Back in his room he found himself looking out his window wistfully, gazing at the sleeping city. Dammit, there were a lot of people out there. It seemed ridiculous, at this moment, that he was alone. But he WAS alone. He searched his mind for a nice fantasy, something decidedly anti-Quentin, as his hand found its way into his pajama bottoms.

As he gazed out upon the dark buildings he realized what it was going to be, and he smiled as he did. Leaning his forehead against the glass he closed his eyes and smiled, welcoming back an old fantasy like a long-lost friend.

It had been so innocuous, so random. It had been a perfectly normal moment in a perfectly normal day. Tony had walked up to the window to look down on NYC and said something random about a building he had worked in once... Peter couldn’t even remember the comment.

It came to him so suddenly, so completely. A fantasy in technicolor - it was crystal clear, high definition. He could hear the bloody soundtrack. It hit him so suddenly he had to beat a hasty retreat... had to get alone where he could enjoy his fantasy in private.

The fantasy where Tony had him hard and leaking facing the window. Maybe it was dark, no one could see him (a good thing, Tony had him completely naked.) Or maybe it was broad daylight. Maybe Tony was showing him off.

Tony was pressing in slowly and sweetly, working his enormous cock into Peter’s tight, near-virgin body. It was slow and rhythmic and perfect.

“Have you ever done it up against a window, sweet Petie?” he would growl, smiling that devilish smile, because he knew the answer.

“You know I haven’t,” Peter would reply, turning to look him in the eye, to look him steadily in the eye. It had been such a chore, looking him straight in the eye… but that was the old days. The 15-years-old days. The never-could-stop-talking-when-I’m-nervous days. The before-manhood days. These days would be different…

...because HE WAS 21 DAMMIT yes of course those ‘blipped’ years did most certainly count!!

He hadn’t taken that daydream very far when he was younger - it didn’t seem right. Tony couldn’t have wanted him then, not like that. It felt wrong to fantasize about it without Tony’s permission, so he just didn’t take it there. But he was older now. He was taking it there now.

Tony’s hands would be on his waist just like they had been in the lab - only he wasn’t of age then, so Tony had been polite. Tony wasn’t polite now. He guided Peter’s body directly where he wanted it to be and did exactly what he wanted to do. Sometimes those fingers dug in hard, sometimes because Tony was losing control, sometimes because Tony wanted to assert dominance. (Sometimes Peter would tease him, leaning back to whisper ‘You can’t leave bruises there Tony, sorry.)

Tony praised him the same way he did in the lab and, just like in the lab, Peter’s skin glowed and his heart pounded at the words. And of course Tony wouldn’t say anything horrible like they did in those awful videos... wouldn’t call him a slut or a whore or make him feel bad because he wanted it or because he was taking it so well... and he was taking it well... yes he was inexperienced but for Tony he would do anything, absolutely anything...

When he was finished he poked at his computer silently until the hour was decent enough for a shower.

For the rest of the day he did what he always did now, nothing. He napped and fucked around on his computer and killed time until nightfall. May warned him that summer wouldn’t last forever and he had a long list of things to do before starting Columbia, but Peter wasn’t sure she was right. Maybe the month of August, like Mysterio and the Elementals he fought, were all just illusions. All that mattered to him now was the coming nightfall, when he could wrap up in a blanket and lay on a pillow and listen to FRIDAY read the old emails.

It was all he had done for three days. No more patrolling, no more stressing out about the drugs. Just hearing and re-hearing all those old conversations, over and over again. He could do this for the rest of his life, couldn’t he? Just reliving and re-reliving those conversations again. Conversations about tech and suit-updates and vibranium discoveries and ridiculous jokes and more tech.

“It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that.” Dumbledore had once told Harry Potter and when Peter had first read that book he had thought it was ridiculous. He was much younger than Harry Potter, and he never gave much thought to his dead parents. Only now he could see the danger that Dumbledore was describing. He didn’t want to do Spider-Man’s job and he certainly didn’t want to do Peter Parker’s job. He wanted to sit in his beautiful new car and dwell on dreams.

Tonight they started out with the month of June. This would be a particularly long sesion, Peter knew, because they had talked a LOT in June. FRIDAY was only 3 emails in when she read something that made Peter’s blood run cold.

First she read the date and the time, as always. Then she started reading the text.

//Remember when I pointed out the security from the top of the Mein-Vol building, where they run the gin business? The original idea had been drones programmed for a flat radial sweep, but for the suit I thought - what if…///

Peter fought his way out of the tangle of the blanket the same way he had fought his way out of the tangle of bedsheets. He leapt from the car the same way he had leapt out of bed. He didn’t explain to FRIDAY, he didn’t say anything at all. The doors were locked and he was headed back up to his apartment before he gave himself any time to think at all.

#Ghosting You #Von And I Write Together #Starker #Angst with a happy ending #Peter Parker/Tony Stark

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stillchaoticlogic · 4 years

Text

Falling: Chapter 4

Pairing: Raihan x Reader

Falling in love is easy…

It’s falling out of love that’s the hard part.

As you try to run from old feelings you meet someone who is determined to bring the spark back into your eyes. Raihan isn’t sure what happened in the past and he doesn’t care. He’s got one shot to make you his and he’s going to take it.

First Chapter: Here

Second Chapter: Here

Third Chapter: Here

Lose You to Love Me

*One Year Ago*

Five challengers…

You had five challengers today and that last one almost got you. Pure exhaustion is the only thing your body processes at the moment. Your team is exhausted and you are beginning to wonder if you asked too much of them today.

You couldn’t relinquish your title though… Not yet…

Kukui walks into the locker room with his usual smile and excited greeting.

“That was amazing! You were insane out there!” He praises and you preen under his words.

“Thanks, Kukui! That last one almost had me…”

“Nah! I knew you wouldn’t lose, that’s why you’re the champion!” he walks up to you and puts his hands on your shoulders giving them a gentle rub.

“You’re really tense though… Maybe you need a spa day or something?”

“Yeah, I think that would be good for me and my team.”

He nods, “I’ll set one up for you! I can’t have my champion getting burnt out!”

In your head, you heard something else entirely. That had been happening a lot lately, you wish he would refer to you as his. You want more from him than just friendship and the immense guilt that comes with those thoughts. You adore him, but you know he’s married. Happily married. Also, his wife is awesome and she’s a friend of yours. Which only amplifies your feelings of guilt.

“Want to grab dinner? Burnet is staying at the lab tonight. We could get sushi?”

And then he does that…

“Yeah, let’s get dinner! I’m starving!” you readily agree.

How can you say no to him?

“Great! Get cleaned up and then we’ll head out! We’ll go to our favorite place, yeah?”

“Yeah…”

It’s not even anything big that you miss, it’s the little moments like sushi with your best friend, that you had fallen in love with, that you miss the most. You roll over onto your side and heave a sigh gazing at the red numbers of the cheap alarm clock. It’s not even 11 O’clock and you can’t sleep. You tap Rotom to wake him up and apologize as he buzzes sleepily to life.

“Call Ku-” you stop yourself short, you can’t call him anymore.

“Call Raihan.”

“Hello?” questions a sleepy Raihan, “Evrthin’ okay?”

“I woke you didn’t I?”

“S’okay….”

“I can’t sleep…”

“What’s wrong?” His voice sounds clearer as he begins to shake the sleep off.

“You want to get a pizza?”

“Are you inviting me over?”

“...yes…” you murmur hesitantly, unsure of what you want from him exactly.

“I want meat lovers and I’ll be there in about 20 minutes.”

You smile to yourself as you pull up the pizza app and place your order for two pizzas. You aren’t surprised when Raihan shows up at your door with the pizzas in hand.

“He was in the lobby so I just thought I would grab them for us.”

“Thanks… for coming… for everything…”

“No problem! Now, what do you want to do.”

You love that he doesn’t ask what is wrong. That he’s ignoring the way your eyes are a little puffy from crying earlier. That he doesn’t ask questions that you don’t want to answer. He is just here.

The two of you walk over to the little sitting area in the suite you are in and flip through the new releases. You both eventually settle on a comedy and you don’t really think about it as you rest your head on his shoulder as he drapes his arm around you. You don’t think about the way you curl into his side and you don’t think about how peaceful it is to just sit next to him and laugh at the absurd movie playing before you. You don’t think about the entire pizza the two of you devour each. You don’t think about anything at all except how nice it is that he’s beside you.

You feel peace for the first time in a long time.

You wake up the next morning to the sound of a phone ringing. You glance up at Raihan as he stirs and you both blink into the early morning sun shining through the curtains.

“Hello?” Raihan’s voice is gruff with sleep and you suppress a shiver as you bury your face into his neck. You try to convince yourself it’s from cold and not the way his voice sounds coated in sleep. The arm that is already around you gives you a squeeze and you glance up at him.

“Yeah… Umm…. I’m with (Y/N)...”

“What?! What do you mean you’re with (Y/N)?” You hear Leon say through the receiver.

“She called me last night and asked me to come over so I did. We fell asleep while watching a movie.”

“Okay…”

You pull the phone from Raihan and hold it up to your ear, “What time are you coming? Do you think you can bring Raihan a change of clothes and his toiletries?”

“Umm… yeah… I can… do that… What is happening?” Leon asks in confusion.

“Nothing is happening Leon, we just had a movie night.”

“Okay…”

“Don’t say that like you don’t believe me,” you grumble to the man on the other end.

“Yes, ma’am!” Leon says somewhere between jokingly and seriously. You aren’t quite sure where he lands, you don’t think he knows either.

You untangle yourself from Raihan and stretch before you head into the separate bedroom.

“Once I’m done showering you want to go?!” You yell from the bedroom.

“Sure! You want breakfast? Coffee?”

“Yes to it alllll! Could you get me oatmeal though? That pizza isn’t as good of an idea this morning.”

You hear him laugh, “You got it, my queen! Anything else?”

You smile to yourself at the nickname, or is this a pet name? You aren’t sure at the moment.

“Nope, I’m good!! Just hurry back! We have to catch a Dreepy today!!” You exclaim all traces of last night washed away in the morning light.

“Of course, we have to find you a couple of new powerhouses today.”

You giggle at the thought. “I really need to let Cerberus and Luna out for a run today too. Joker too…” you muse aloud to yourself as you pick out your outfit for the day. You can’t help but wonder if Raihan would like it.

Pulling on a pair of fitted black jeans and a deep blue top, you grab your belt and head out into the living area where Leon and Raihan are whispering among one another.

“Are you keeping secrets from me?” You ask with a smirk making the duo jump in surprise.

“Nope! Just guy stuff!” Leon answers his hand rubbing the back of his neck self consciously.

“Okay…” you murmur before addressing Raihan, “The shower is all yours.”

“Thanks!” He says with a smirk as he passes you on his way to the bathroom.

You fix Leon with your gaze and notice the way he swallows subtly. He just might be intimidated by you, this could be fun.

“So what were you two talking about?” You ask as you make your way over to the table and pick up the oatmeal and latte Raihan picked up for you.

“Nothing… you know just… stuff…”

“Ummm hmm…” you hum as you hold his gaze bringing the coffee to your lips and taking a sip. Your favorite drink swirling on your tongue. The first few times Raihan brought you coffee was a generic order, but this is your order. You blink in surprise as you gaze down at the cup in your hands.

“You look surprised,” Leon says a sly smirk sliding onto his face.

“It’s my order…” you say as you regard it with surprise.

“Raihan is pretty perceptive if he cares about someone he likes to show them.”

“Cares about them?”

“Yep, he really likes you, just remember that when you call him late at night…”

“What are you implying Leon?” You ask with an edge to your voice.

“Nothing,” he says as he holds his hands up in surrender.

“I’m not using Raihan if that’s what you're worried about.”

“I didn’t say it was, I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“Perhaps think about your implications than before you voice them.”

“Why did you call him last night?”

You pause for a moment as you gaze into your food in thought.

“Do the thoughts in your head ever get so loud that the only way to quiet them is to pull yourself from your head and into reality?”

“...Yeah…”

“Things got too loud with my past last night and Raihan’s been really sweet about things so I figured...maybe… just him being there would make me feel better… and it did. It’s been so long since I haven’t had to hide myself or feelings from people and it’s just nice. He’s a great person and I really like just hanging out with him.”

Leon blinks at you in surprise.

“I see… I really didn’t mean-”

“It’s fine, you were looking out for your friend,” you say dismissively as you take a bite of your breakfast.

The silence that settles over the two of you is heavy as you check the news. You know you will be able to release your team for some much-needed training today, they aren’t used to being this inactive. Once Raihan has finished his shower you all head out into the Wild Area. The minute you step onto the grass you release your team.

Havoc your Garchomp, Ember your Ninetails, Aurora your Aloan Ninetails, Joker your Zoroark, Cerberus your Houndoom, and Lunatik your Midnight Lycanroc are all excited to be out and about. Both guys release their respective teams and you watch in amusement as they race around or play fight. You all leisurely make your away towards the Lake of Outrage.

You are surprised when a storm begins to brew out of nowhere and suddenly you are caught in the rain. Cerberus and Ember are especially displeased with the water and demand to be put back in their homes with Aurora following along quickly behind. The change in weather doesn’t seem to bother Havoc, Joker or Lunatik as the three of them rush ahead of you all only to run back a few moments later.

“This is perfect!” yells Raihan.

“Perfect?!” you yep back holding the hood of your jacket over your head against the wind.

“Yeah, the perfect storm for a Toxel…”

You smile as you rush towards the tall grass and begin to look around, it isn’t long until you stumble across several of the little guys all pouting about. You squeal as you take out your poke’balls and throw a few at the surprised baby pokemon. You check the stats to find out the information after deeming them acceptable you send them to your box.

“Why did you catch three of them?” questions Leon as he comes up behind you.

“I’m going to send one Hau to congratulate him on being the new champion.”

“You’re pretty close to the kid aren’t you?” Raihan asks.

“I’ve known him for several years and I have trained him on many occasions.”

“Did you train him to take your place?” Raihan asks.

“Smart boy,” you say with a smirk as you glance behind you.

“So you knew you didn’t want to be champion anymore?” Leon throws the questions over his shoulder from the lead.

“I did. There was a point last year where I knew I needed to start grooming my successor and I chose Hau. I don’t know that he ever really caught on until he beat me in that official match. It’s hero worship you know? You always feel that those you look up to will always be better than you.”

“Yeah... well... you’re still the queen in my book,” Raihan says with a wink as he glances over his shoulder at you. His canine winking at you with his smirk.

“Thanks, Raihan… The question is: when are you going to ask for that battle you’ve been itching for?”

“How do you know I’ve been itching to battle you?”

“I’ve seen the way you look at Havoc. You want to battle him so badly.”

He laughs, “You caught me! I do want to battle you! Maybe when you’re settled we can go to the ring? Make an event of it?”

“You want your crushing defeat on national television? I can roll with that…”

He barks another laugh, “I may not be so easy to beat…”

“You’re cute when you’re optimistic… I bet you’re downright adorable when you’ve been defeated…”

“I know this is technically supposed to be trash talk but you just called me cute and I’m going to leave it right there. Small victories you know?”

You threw your head back and laughed at him right as a large lake comes into view. You aren’t surprised when a Gyarados pops up out of the water and roars before diving back under. You feel the adrenaline kick up and you love it.

“This is crazy!” you yell as you peddle on the water bike racing the guys to the other side. Once there you look around at the pokemon in the area and you squeal in excitement. Several types are wandering around that you have never seen before. Quickly you begin to poke around the area with the boys following close behind you. Raihan is leaning against the wall as he watches you hang out in the tall grass. You are very still as you take in the pokemon and the new surroundings. You spend the next few hours asking Leon and Raihan about the pokemon that you come across that you don’t recognize. That is until you see a Dreepy floating close to a nearby rock peeking out at its surroundings.

Cautiously you creep up on the baby dragon and giggle before you engage it with a pokemon suited for catching it. It isn’t long until you’ve worn it down enough to capture it.

Pleased with the two baby pokemon you’ve caught today you all decide to continue your trip to Hammerlocke. You head back to the lake and hop onto the bike before you head across the lake. Gazing into the blue sky you feel that new feeling of peace that you are slowly getting familiar with. You aren’t prepared when out of nowhere a Gyrados leaps from the water right below you and sends you under in a matter of seconds. You are disoriented and you aren’t sure which way is up as you tumble about below the currents and the sea snake circles you. You can feel your chest tighten as what little air you have is slowly depleted. Vaguely you are aware of the Gyrados getting closer to you until an attack hits the water and it rears back before rushing towards what you assume is the surface. A blinding light catches your attention in the water and you notice floating beside you is Joker your Zoroark. He quickly grasps your hand before he makes his way to the surface.

The moment you break the surface of the water you inhale the biggest breath of air of your life. You are dazed and disoriented as you notice Raihan’s Flygon battling the Gyrados as the trainer himself rushes towards you on this bike. You see pieces of your own floating in the water near you, but you brush them away as Raihan hauls you onto this bike. His arms wrap instantly around you before he checks for injuries.

“Are you okay?!” he asks as he hugs you to him once more satisfied you aren’t in any imminent danger.

“I am…” you wheeze out.

“Are you sure?”

“Not really… I’ve had many life or death situations on my travels but this was the best yet…” You lean against Raihan in an attempt to rest and before you really know what happens, your already foggy brain shuts down and you pass out in his arms.

Notes: So sorry for the delay in stories! I’ve finally found my stride again and I’m feeling better about life. Thank you so much for checking on me and the well wishes for my kitty baby! If I didn’t answer it’s because I had a lot going on for a while that I needed to deal with, but you all made me smile nonetheless! Please comment or send me a message to let me know your thoughts!

#raihan #gym leader raihan #pokemon raihan #raihan x reader #raihan imagines #pokemon #pokemon fanfiction #pokemon scenarios #pokemon imagines #pokemon sword and shield #sword and shield fanfiction #sword and shield imagine

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sanktnikolais · 4 years

Text

Sunday Morning - Softober (11/31)

A/N: AAAAA it’s a miracle I could still keep up with zoyalai HAHAFKLJSDH

Based on the prompt ‘Morning’ from the Softober list.

Word count: 1606

AO3

Nikolai had promised himself he wouldn't get another one, not until he graduated from his engineering degree, at least, which was roughly only more than a year remaining.

But looking at them now, he realized that he wouldn't have it any other way.

"Sturmhond, no." He gently lifted the dog away from the bowl. The Golden Retriever gave a soft whine as Nikolai placed Sturmhond to the bigger one to the right. "This is one yours, remember? Not the other one, that's your brother's."

Hotdog let out a low rumble, nudging Nikolai’s leg. The Dachshund had merely sat back and watched its brother devour the food in the smaller bowl, even though Sturmhond had the bigger one.

He ruffled the spot under the Dachshund's chin. "I know, buddy. Hard being the older one, eh?"

Nikolai added a bit more to Hotdog's food, and the dog was all too happy to dive in. He watched them fondly, a smile on his lips.

They had definitely helped him divert his attention to other things rather than overworking himself with tons of lectures and papers whenever sleep eluded him.

Perhaps getting them wasn't a bad choice after all.

The shrill tone of his phone startled him out of his thoughts that he dropped the dog food container he was holding. Its contents scattered on the ground, and apparently Sturmhond and Hotdog noticed it.

Then both of them turned their attention to the fallen dog food despite still having some on their bowls.

"Guys, no—"

The ringtone continued to blare, and his dogs refused to listen to him. Realizing that he couldn’t stop the two from feasting over the dog food, Nikolai let out a frustrated breath as he grabbed his phone on the counter. He didn't bother checking the caller when he answered.

"Yes?"

"Nikolai, it's Zoya," the voice said, and he had to put the phone away from his ear to make sure it was really her. Indeed, the caller ID showed "Mean Muffin".

Nikolai raised a brow, pressing the phone to his ear again. It was only a little past eight in the morning, and he was quite sure Zoya wouldn't have called this early. On a Sunday.

"Nazyalensky? Is something wrong?" he asked, eyeing his two dogs that were still eating the scattered food on the floor. Their tails were wagging all too enthusiastically, and he could only shake his head in disbelief as he turned his attention back to the call. “What’s up?”

Zoya didn’t reply right away, making him a bit worried. But he could hear the muffled thuds and shuffle in the background. What was she doing? After a few more moments, her voice came. “Is that other room in your place still vacant?”

“Yeah, why?” Nikolai frowned. He glanced over his shoulder to look at the door next to his room that had been vacant ever since college started. “You know it always has been.”

“Fair.” There was another thud, but it was louder this time, and followed by a string of curses from the raven-haired storm he was talking to. Damn it all to hell, he heard her say, and Nikolai had to fight off a chuckle. Zoya then sighed exasperatedly. “Alright, favor—saints, I can't believe I'm the one asking now. But all because I really am out of options.”

Nikolai’s eyebrows furrowed, a confused expression blooming on his face. Zoya Nazyalensky rarely asked for favors, unless it’s a life and death situation. “Okay, go on.”

A beat. “The damned complex is getting shut down due to safety concerns which” —there was a sound of a door slamming shut— “is fucking absurd because in the years I’ve been here there hasn’t been a single problem—” She stopped, and then released an exasperated breath. “Can I crash over for a while?”

Oh. Oh.

What?

“Yeah, sure,” Nikolai replied even before he could think of it, and he blinked repeatedly. Then he frowned. The instinct of his answer definitely was questionable. “You’re not allergic to dog fur, right?”

A low rumble came from somewhere beside him, and he looked down to see Sturmhond looking at him with a flat expression as if it understood what just said. Behind the Retriever, Hotdog seemed to have the same expression as his brother.

Nikolai raised an eyebrow at them, and then Zoya’s voice came a moment later.

“Nikolai, I go there most of the time,” she said, and then with a bit more smug, she added, “And besides, we both know your dogs adore me more than you.”

“Getting more confident now, aren’t we?” He laughed lightly, walking over to the cupboard to put back the dog food container inside. He figured that the spilled food was beyond saving as the two dogs had already devoured it. “When are you coming over?”

“Now.”

The container almost slipped from his hand again, but he was able to prevent it from tipping over. His eyes widened. “I’m sorry, what?”

Nikolai turned back to look at the state of his apartment, and his lecture notes in the living room were an utter mess. To emphasize his situation, it had been nearly a week since he last cleaned up. He winced.

Shit.

“An earlier warning next time, Nazyalensky?”

***

At least half an hour later, the firm knocks finally came. Sturmhond and Hotdog immediately perked up, looking at Nikolai expectantly as he stood up and walked to the door. He peeked through the peephole. There indeed was Zoya Nazyalensky, Ravka University’s Storm, outside with a suitcase, a duffel bag, and a box in an arm.

And her face had her usual scowl that could make everyone cower.

Nikolai huffed a laugh as he opened the door. “You know, you could’ve maximized the favor and asked—”

There was a bark, and then a flash of black fur rushed past him, leaping towards Zoya. It must have startled her because she quickly let go of the box she was holding to catch the enthusiastic dog coming for her. Nikolai acted right away and grabbed the box before it could fall.

He turned to frown at her, but wasn’t able to when he saw the look on her face. Gone was her scowl and replaced by a grin, her eyes alight as she looked down at the dog in her arms. Sturmhond had appeared beside her, reaching up its paws to her side as if it wanted to be carried too. The sight instantly brought a smile to his face.

Zoya gave the Retriever a pat on the head, chuckling softly when Hotdog tried to pepper her face with kisses. Then she turned to Nikolai with a smug expression. “What’d I tell you? Your dogs adore me.”

“I can see it clearly now. Such traitors.” He ushered them inside as he stepped out to wheel her suitcase in, and then closed the door behind him after. “Just saying, you could’ve asked me to go get you.”

“And risk piling up the favors I have? I don’t think so, Lantsov.” She put down Hotdog to the ground, and the dog bolted to the nearest sofa to curl up on. Sturmhond followed in suit, lying beside his brother.

Nikolai laughed lightly. "Afraid I might use it against you? Ah, but I don't take advantage of anything, Nazyalensky. You wound me," he said, putting the box down on his messy center table in the living room. "How long do you intend to stay?"

Zoya turned to him, then, expression apologetic, which Nikolai rarely saw her have. "It's just until I find another place nearby. Probably a week or two, at most. All the other vacant ones are far from the university or cost a shit ton." She sighed tiredly. "I'll pay half of the expenses and rent—"

"Don't worry about them, they've already been paid in advance. Just worry about the food expenses, I worry about it all the time as well."

Her face had conflicting emotions blooming at once, the furrow in her eyebrows becoming more prominent like she didn't know what to say next.

Nikolai gave her a reassuring smile. "Probably coffee expenses too. I'm sure my stash that would last me a month would now disappear in two weeks."

To his relief, Zoya scoffed at his statement, a small smile on her lips. "Oh, really now? Who once drank four cups within a few hours and complained about being too jittery and not able to sleep?"

"Bringing up the past now, aren't we? Harsh."

"Honest."

"Then can you admit that I'm actually the best person you've ever known?"

"Admitting to that would be like saying that Genya never existed."

Nikolai feigned a hurtful look. "That's the second time you've wounded me within a minute."

Zoya gave him a smirk. "I do my best, Lantsov." She paused, her torn expression returning. Then she said, "Are you sure?"

He considered her question for a moment, but he already knew to himself that he'd agree to it in a heartbeat. Zoya was one of the few people that he was thankful for always keeping him up his feet.

There probably wasn't anything he wouldn't do for her.

"I got you," Nikolai said, and he meant it. Then playfully, he added, "As long as you don't steal my dogs from me, I think we'll be okay."

Zoya raised an eyebrow as if offended, but the look in her eyes was gentle, and it was enough for him to know that she was grateful. She laughed lightly. "I don't think I can promise that, Lantsov."

He chuckled at that, wondering how his morning took a very interesting turn.

#softober20 #zoyalai #king of scars #zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lantsov #KLJHASDFKLJHA ANOTHER COLLEGE AU #I'M SORRY FOR THE BOMBARDMENT #BUT ZOYALAI OCCUPIES MY MIND 24/7 #nikolai has two dogs because one isn't enough #GOOD BOYS #sturmhond and hotdog own my heart ok #my writing #have this mess

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coffee-mugz · 4 years

Text

Inspired by: This post!

Warning: cursing, mention of alcohol and murder (dont worry, nothing serious at all.)

Pairing: Remus x Virgil

Note: Firstly, this is unedited, secondly, I do not own these characters! They belong to Thomas.

Today was December 19th at around 8 PM.

For others, it was a normal day. A fine winter day with a faint dust of snow and chilly weather. Christmas ornaments and decorations were set up everywhere in the suburban neighborhood, lighting up the otherwise gloomy streets. Families were getting prepared for the holidays and children were excitingly nearing their winter breaks. A normal day.

But for Virgil, it was in fact a very important day. It was the day he'd turn 18, the day he'd first meet his soulmate. Well, "meet" was a bit of an exaggeration. Okay, maybe a lot, but switching emotions with their fated other for an hour was as interesting as it is useless.

And, as the time ticked nearer to 8:12, Virgil felt a rise of guilt and fear bubble up in his chest. And suddenly, everything was too much for him to bear.

The brightly flashing Christmas lights seemed to absolutely tear through his vision, too bright for him to completely register.

The laughter and cheers from the party- his birthday party- were too loud. They flooded his brain and his head pounded.

And he's reminded of those awful thoughts of doubt, his mind spiraling downwards into a dark pit he couldn't avoid.

What would they think of me?

Should I eat?

Would they think I'm eating too much?

Do I look bad?

Do I look fat?

Am I talking too much?

What if they dont like my smile?

My smile is ugly.

My makeup doesn't fit in.

My clothes look strange.

I don't fit in.

I'm strange.

Why would they want to talk to me?

My soulmate-

My soulmate will feel this.

What do I do?!

I dont want them to feel miserable.

They're going to hate me.

They're going to blame me.

What if they're doing something important right now?

What if I ruined their life by giving them a panic attack?

Virgil flinched, feeling a hand suddenly land on his shoulder, pulling him out of his thoughts. A faint whisper of alcohol could be smelled behind him, and judging the fact he hadn't brought any alcohol here since he (and almost everybody else) was underage, he already knew who it was.

"Virgin?" A deep voice called his "nickname"- if it even could be called one.

"R-Re-" Virgil stuttered, his breath still rather rapid and his heartbeat nearly exploding.

It was Remus. His best friend since middle school... and his not-so-secret teeny tiny crush.

Sure enough, Remus popped in front of him, one hand holding a bottle of beer while the other seemed to have dropped his deodorant.

"How you doing, birthday boy~? I brought the other little shits some alcohol so they could finally- woah there. You good, Virgin?" Remus ranted to him, before abruptly stopping, seeing Virgil's teary eyes and smudges makeup.

Remus took a glance at Virgil's chest, noticing it rising and falling rather rapidly despite it being mostly coveted up with Virgil's oversized hoodie.

Remus put down his bottle on a nearby coffee table, stretching his arms out as a sign that the shaking boy could hug him.

"You need some time- upstairs- away from all this shit? I get it. Roman can be such a dick-face sometimes, I want to toss him out of a ten story building too." Virgil laughed, graciously taking Remus's offer and hugging him.

Remus was warm- really warm. All of Virgil wanted to do at the moment was keep snuggling into his arms, confess even, but he knew he couldn't do that to Remus, who was waiting for nearly 2 years for his soulmate to pop up. He was a rare case, having an age gap with his soulmate. Virgil couldn't take away Remus' fated other, especially when he had been waiting for so long. That would be robbing Remus's future partner.

"Let's go to Mr. Virgin's super dark lair to see what kind of toys he has hidden away-" Remus said, quiet so that nobody else heard it, but loud enough for Virgil to punch him in the chest.

"Oof! So it looks like be got a naughty one here!" Remus let go, much to Virgil's disappointment, to dramatically clutch his chest, as if he'd been stabbed.

Virgil grabbed him by the sleeve, too afraid to make direct skin contact again in fear of Remus thinking he was strange, and dragged both of them up to his room.

Although Virgil's breathing had become more stable, his heart was still racing and his adrenaline rush has yet to fully wear off. A faint thump of guilt emerged in his chest, though he didn't know why.

Soon enough, they were by themselves, locked in a room where the only colors you could see are purple, black, or grey, accompanied by a rather Halloween type of astethic despite it being Christmas.

Virgil sat himself down on the bed, making enough space for Remus to sit tight next to him. He tossed his purple spiderweb blanket on top of the two of them and took the opportunity to lean on Remus's shoulder, panicking as he felt his ear brush against bear skin.

Virgil jolted upwards, staring at Remus, who was somehow wearing a tank top now. Virgil's eyes dashed across the room, spotting Remus's unruly leather jacket on the ground, long discarded.

"What? Emo boy can't handle my hots?" Remus asked, and Virgil could only roll his eyes and pull a bit of blanket up, so that he could lean on Remus without physically touching him.

Who knows how much farther his emotions would spike if he were to have skin-to-skin contact like before? It's already too late to stop, seeing as it was already his birthday.

Man, does time fly by fast.

"So, wanna talk about it?" Remus asked, sticking a piece of deodorant he got from who knows where into his mouth. Though, Virgil knows it's mostly marshmallow fluff. They made it together a few years ago, and it was still a long running joke.

"...Probably. But no." Virgil replied, sneaking a look at his digital clock.

8:10, 3 minutes before he'd switch.

"Mmm, why not? Y'know, you love rambling."

Virgil could only avert his gaze, his throat closing up on him.

"Virgin?" Remus asked; shaking his shoulder a bit, causing Virgil's bright purple hair to become staticky.

Fuck, Virgil thought. He really hated this- hated having to watch Remus get snagged away because he knew he wasn't destined to him. Why in the world would Remus be paired dup with him? His luck had always been bad, so this just sounded absurd to him.

"I'm sorry." Virgil meekly replied, nuzzling his head further into Remus's arm as he watched the clock flash to 8:11. 2 minutes left.

Remus looked down on him, confusion evident on his face. "Sorry for what? Sorry for making me leave my beer?"

Virgil paused, forcing down his emotions as tears welled up in his eyes. He hated this, so do much. He should have tried harder, to be good enough to stand by Remus's side. He should've been more confident, better suitable for Remus's own cocky, rash attitude. Hr should've tried to end this years ago, but what a coward he was, leaning on him to the last second.

The clock flashed to 8:12, and Virgil felt his previous regret and guilt become replaced with self hatred. If only he had been better suitable for him...

"Virgin?" Remus asked again, not getting a reply from the boy. He want used to being left in the silent. He was used to being instantly retaliated by Virgil's snarky comments, right after his own. He wasn't acting at all like the normal.

"I'm sorry for loving y-" Virgil stopped, feeling all his prior emotions immediately flush down the drain as he was suddenly filled with something else. His confession was stopped, and hid apology that followed right after escaped his mind.

Confidence, pride, arrogance, confusion, an urge to explore his entire neighborhood (and maybe even the world)- he felt all these foreign emotions suddenly overwhelm him. He stared at the clock, which now proudly blinked 8:13.

What? Dude, at least give a man his time!

Virgil was suddenly given the urge to punch it, and act...irrational.

A beam of hope sprung up in his heart, only for it to vanish seconds after it.

There are plenty of people who are irrational, brash, and arrogant like this. But Virgil, surprisingly, couldn't accept that, as his hope was reignited, as stubborn as a mule.

Because Remus was fine-

"Hick-" A small noise came from beside him, the hope in his heart glowing brighter, fiercer than it ever had before.

"Remus?" Virgil asked, his voice loud and clearm. It even shocked him, who knew he always kept his voice down in fear of being too annoying.

"D-Damn." Remus cursed, furiously wiping away at his eyes.

"R-Remus?" Virgil felt a searing pain erupt in his body, but it wasn't painful. He...enjoyed it. His body felt as if he were on fire, tears once again threatening to fall, but was held back just in time. For some reason, he couldn't accept the fact that he almost cried in front of Remus. It mad him feel...weak.

"Wow, holy shit." Remus tried to laugh it off, but Virgil noticed the glistening tears running down his arms, each one giving striking Virgil in the chest with his own sadness.

"A-Are you ok?" Virgil asked, taking his head off of Remus's shoulder, questioning whether to wrap his arms around the other. He didn't, because a small part of him doubted that this was real, but a big part of him believe it was.

"Virgil," Virgil flinched, unexpectedly hearing his own, correct name coming from Remus's mouth.

"You really hate yourself this much?" The moment he heard this, his heart shattered, finally realizing what he had done.

His soulmate- Remus, as much as he couldn't believe it- was just given...possibly the worst thoughts he had ever encountered. Self deprivations, self hatred, regret and guilt, anxiety, everything that Virgil usually burdened himself to carry was now placed onto Remus's chest.

Virgil knew how it felt, and he knew how horrible the aftermath was.

Without a second thought, Virgil tossed his arms around Remus's large stature, and although his arms weren't quite long enough to fully encase him in an embrace like Remus would usually do to him, it was better than nothing.

"I'm sorry." Remus muttered, giving a strained laugh, so unlike his unrestrained, boisterous one.

"There's nothing to be sorry about." Virgil quickly shut it down, knowing himself well enough that the moment he apologizes is when everything starts getting worse and worse. He then starts thinking about what he wished he could hear from the other during these times, and although hesitant, he said it anyways.

"I love you." Virgil confessed, seeing Remus tense up his entire body.

"I love you so much." Virgil repeats, watching as Remus started to shake this time. Virgil started to worry, thinking he had done something wrong, or in the worse case, messed up their relationship.

Soon after, a chuckle could be heard, and Remus looks up, smiling happily as tears continued to stream down his face.

"Good news for you, so do I, you dick."

Virgil looked offended, an expression Remus thought he would never have seen, and watched as Virgil proudly proclaimed:

"Since when have I been a dick when you're acting like one! I even told you first- all three times- that I love you! Say it, say it. C'mon!" Virgil hissed, but relaxed after hearing a laugh that sounded more like Remus. It wasn't him entirely, but it was a lot better than before.

"Asshole." Remus fixed, grinning once again at Virgil's unsupporting gaze.

"Its true! Look at me- I radiate top energy. You're definitely a bottom." Remus said, snapping his mouth shut as he realized what he said, green eyes wide open in shock.

But he was eased out of that state with Virgil's calm, sarcastic laughter, and was once again bombarded with the fact that Virgil could definitely top somebody else, and that he wasn't entirely a bottom.

But they both knew that Remus was right in the end, neither of them want to admit it, though.

They spent the rest of their little break in Virgil's room, Virgil taking the initiative to thank everybody for coming to the party and seeing them out the door when the time had come. On the way out, everybody gave him a knowing glance as he rolled his eyes, slamming the door in their faces, leaving them in the midst of a blizzard.

Truth be told, the party wasn't really a party. At least, not to Remus who had gone to so many parties with over 30 people attending each. But to Virgil, it was enough, especially when Declyn and Roman were in the same room.

The test of their hour was spent with the two of them questioning each other's emotions, Remus asking more of them than Virgil.

"How do you even think like this?"

"I have a strange urge to eat chocolate."

"Is this why you never talk?"

"Wow, I look horrible. Did I always smell like this?"

"How the fuck did you deal with my chaotic dumbass energy? Like- Everything looks dangerous! Even that stupid broom you never use! What if it falls and trips an unlucky bitch?"

"That ceiling fan of yours is giving me major creep vibes- you never know when it's gonna fall! It's plotting against us!"

"How do you manage to sleep like this?"

Remus would continue to endlessly spill out questions after questions, cherishing this hour of his life to see everything his soulmate looked through his own eyes. And this is when he truly learned about different perspectives.

Like he said: the ceiling fan he never played attention to is always on his mind now, he never thought to use actual deodorant until now, when he thought about what Virgil would think despite him knowing very well that he doesn't give a damn. That lamp in the corner of the room? Remus had seen it before, but now he could only think about what would happen if it were to tip over.

Minor things he never noticed became so apparent in his life, and he feels horrible remembering all the times he forced Virgil to do something absolutely crazy with him (like the shopping cart incident). He couldn't imagine what it would feel like to have to do that when he feels this horrible just lying down.

It was the same with Virgil. He never knew Remus experienced such a pull to the outside world until now. In fact, a 'pull' would be an understatement. He desperately wants to go outside and maybe even conquer the woods just outside of his house, but it takes every ounce of his will to stay put and stay shut inside.

It helps knowing Remus appreciated it.

Virgil hasn't had a single thought about everything that would have been in his mind. He felt...giddy, and he wasn't sure what to think of it. He hadn't felt this way for a good few years now, so it certainly came as a shock to his unprepared mind.

As the minutes passed by, the digital clock finally beeped "9:13" and the two of them felt the exact same sensation as they did an hour prior.

A drain sucked out their personality -or emotions-, and their original one filled the void, leaving the two of them in silence as they grew accustomed to their original feelings.

Virgil, as he really couldn't focus on anything for too long for the entire hour, had just processed the fact that Remus was and is indeed his soulmate. A dream come true, if not a miracle. And Remus had just processed his own train of thought, grinning wildly as he dived towards Virgil, who let out an "oof!" at the sudden force and pressure.

Soon enough, Virgil and Remus were in their usual cuddling position once again, with Virgil sitting on Remus's lap, facing him, wrapping his arms around his neck as he settles his head into the crook of it. Remus wrapped the both of them in a blanket, playing a crappy version of a scene from a recently released movie which was obviously taken in the movie theaters.

"Boyfriends?" Virgil suddenly asked, somehow growing enough confidence to ask such a question. To his delight, Remus grinned, picking up Virgil's thin body and swinging the both of them all around the room.

"Why don't we just get married? Right here!" Remus exclaimed, only to get his face pushed away and his mouth shut up.

"Married? Yeah right! You haven't even told me "I love you" yet! Now that I think of it, I'm the only one who said it, you ass! Say it!" Virgil tossed around Remus's head in all directions, only to end up on the ground, Remus's eyes spinning from the dizziness.

"I-I love you." Remus weakly muttered out, before grabbing a nearby bag of onion rings and smashing them open, picking one of the few intact rings.

He grabbed Virgil's hand and stuck the onion ring onto his ring finger. "Now, marry me?" Remus asked once again, tossing Virgil another onion ring and stretched this hand out, waiting for the other to slip it on.

Virgil blushed, hiding his red ears as he hit Remus's head rather ruthlessly and putting on the ring.

"Dammit, what'll Dee say if he finds out you proposed to me with a fucking onion ring." Virgil said, falling onto Remus's chest, staring at his new edible ring. A smile stretched out on his face, and although Remus may not have directly seen it, he knew exactly what he'd look like.

"Well, he'd be jealous! What better than to be able to eat your ring, so you can give your lover another one the next day. Y'know, Ro said it would be his "dream come true" if he could propose to his lover every day and relive the moment. So, me being me, I had to steal the number one place from that piece of shit again." Remus boasted, before proudly exclaiming, "And as you can see, it worked. You accepted it. Now I can rub it into his nasty face."

Virgil burst out laughing.

"Is that the only reason you proposed to me after being boyfriends for not even half an hour?" Remus paused for a moment, then making a gesture as if he were in deep thought. Virgil rolled his eyes at it.

"Well, I've considered you my boyfriend for the past few years already-"

"What?" Virgil sat up abruptly, shocked to hear such a thing. He didn't even remember Remus saying or acting weird at all.

"Yeah, that one time I got the both of us drunk by accident I ended up blurting something along the lines of "You're really cute" and you said that only your boyfriend can call you cute. I asked if I could be one, and you said yeah, so I called you cute again. It's really foggy since it was so long ago, but you probably forgot. You were hit by the alcohol cloud the hardest and you were younger than me, so it was obviously expected." Remus explained, then grinned at Virgil's shocked expression.

"Remember? The time I decided to burn my dad's vodka because I was pissed at him for some shitty reason. We didn't know that the alcohol would evaporate the moment we lit it on fire, and the wind pushed it to your direction first. Funny as hell looking back on it now, but it scared the shit out of me when you nearly fainted."

"No no, not that. You didnt take me out on dates and you never said you liked me."

"Uh, I did?"

"You didn't."

"I did! That time I took you to the treehouse- that was one! Then when the both of us ditched my own party to explore the woods and nearly broke my arm was another. After our shitty swimming lessons, when I took you to the cafe, that was another! Also that one time we climbed a tree and got stuck for 3 hours- that was another! All the sleepovers, dumpster diving, stealing from the old bastard and cuddle sessions were dates! And the "I love you" stuff... I'm not really good with it. I never know when the right time to say it is, so I ended up skipping that part. But still!" Remus ranted, counting all their "dates" using his fingers, while Virgil stayed silent in utter shock.

"Wait-" Virgil laughed again, "What is your definition of dates?" Remus looked at him, as if he asked the most stupid question on earth.

"No, really, what do you think a date is?"

Remus paused again, "well... it's when you're only with your lover, right? When it's only the two of us- Roman told me that. Roman... Ah, fuck! Don't tell me it's completely different!"

Remus banged his fist on the ground, spewing out more curses at his brother as Virgil's laughter only continued to rise.

"It's- HAHA- It's not completely different. It's right in a way, but you'd usually tell your partner if it's a date or if it's just hanging out. No wonder I had no idea- all those happened when I was so young! Haha, sorry."

Remus grumbled to himself, crossing his arms, but nevertheless managed to smile at Virgil's rare fits of laughter.

Remus: "Alright then- to fix everything my shitty bro did, how about a date tomorrow? In the woods." Remus smiled, and Virgil wiped away some of his tears.

"Yeah, sure. That's great."

#deceit sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #thomas sanders #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #sympathetic deceit #ts duke #dukexiety #intruxiety #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fic #sanders sides

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need-a-new-hobby · 4 years

Text

The Boogeyman

summary: oc is dr. piper bishop. you may find a full profile on my tumblr (soon). her qualifications are 4 Ph.Ds in different branches of psychology, a master’s in history and bachelor’s in literature all by 22 (I wanted her to compete w/ reid). based on S2E6: The Boogeyman

When her honey-brown eyes fluttered awake, it was still dark. 5:30 am. She rose out of bed, rubbing her eyes, like a child waking up on a Sunday morning. Slipping on her ruby slippers, she staggered to the kitchen, remnants of last night’s class schedule and history projects strewn across her beige countertop, to make a cup of tea. It was strange, here in Ozona, to drink iced coffee, never mind tea. She set the kettle, pulled her long cardigan to cover her chest and regarded the manor in the woods. The whistle shattered her gaze at the dilapidated house.

In Virginia, 6 agents discussed the death of two children in the middle of Texas. "Nicholas Faye of Ozona, Texas, was beaten to death roughly 13 hours ago. Blunt force trauma to the head," JJ sighed. There was never a good day nor time to deliberate on innocent and defenceless children. But she’d worked this job too long to slip into that pattern of doom and gloom. "He’s the second young boy to die the same way in the last 2 months. A local hunter found his body in the woods. First victim’s name, Robbie Davis."

"Are these boys connected somehow?" asked Morgan.

"Ozona’s population is roughly 2 500. Everyone has some kind of connection."

"Well, if they weren’t linked before they certainly are now." Morgan wore the same grim expression of exasperation as JJ. The agents agreed that they were both murdered by the same offender who was hunting children. The repulsiveness wasn’t lost on any of them.

^-^

Piper Bishop was a history teacher. She asked herself why every day. Every day she’d sit on her front porch, sipping on tea, asking why. Her entire life, she’d wanted to help people, and her entire life, she questioned if it was enough. She wasn’t smart enough to go to medical school, her father had made sure she understood that at most. Her clear preference for the humanities was seen as repulsive, condemned for "supporting these damn bleeding-heart liberals". Neither were Daniel’s remarks lost on her either. She remembered her last reunion with her siblings. "You have 4 Ph.Ds Pipes," he’d said, blues gazing at browns. "Why are you teaching school kids?" She’d find the answer every time a young girl whispered about a bully in her ear, every time a young boy bared his scars to her. She’d tried doing the psychiatry gig, but the stigma behind her patients meant she had none. Her father’s words still stuck to her. Though she’d shaken him off, his voice became her own. What if he is right though? What if you really won’t amount to anything? Piper laughed at her own absurdity. She’d almost missed the sunrise. The warm sun peeking out at her behind the trees melted away all her doubts. "Time for school Dr. Bishop."

^-^

"You guys hear Elle was cleared?" Spencer sat down with his cup of hot coffee next to Derek. Well, more sugar than coffee anyway.

"Self-defence," Derek stated, flipping through the files, with an air of disbelief.

"So it was a good shoot." Derek turned towards the young agent.

"She hit what she was aiming for." JJ commented without a glance at the two men in front of her, eyes focused on the case at hand.

"That’s not what I meant."

"I know." The blonde agent said.

"If they cleared her," Morgan asked, "then how come she’s not here with us? Or Hotch?"

"Focus on the case," Gideon reprimanded, seated away from them. Taking it as a sign to change the conversation, JJ handed out the autopsy reports. Morgan then suggested the bludgeoning was a form of frustration or rage.

"With no apparent sexual motivation," Reid added, "that’s rare when the victims are this young."

"The unsure is taking pleasure from the kill itself." Gideon contributed.

"If it’s not sexual, what’s the significance in killing young males?"

"Most serial killers prey upon specific types to carry out fantasies of revenge.” Spencer answered, drawing on his memory. “Bundy killed women that looked like an ex-girlfriend who jilted him, Dahmer claimed that schoolyard harassment federal into his fury."

"Okay, so maybe these kids represent someone who victimised the offender?"

"Unlikely," JJ replied, "they just found another body. 11 year old girl."

^-^

Piper glanced over her desk quickly once more. Her worksheets were ready, her timeline of Alexander the Great was drawn up and her map of Alexander’s territory was pinned, dotted with little flags and sketched out. She was determined to make this module the best one yet to make up for the tension in the classroom. She’d already lost 2 kids to that coward in the woods, she wasn’t about to lose a third. The Persian horde had arrived and the young doctor opened the gates to receive the 45 little kids raging to their beloved history teacher. No, 43 now, she chided herself. Closing the door, she mentally reminded her to control her emotions. She turned to face her little devils, "Who’s ready to fight the Macedons?"

Her warm eyes flitted across the desks. That was weird. Three desks were empty this time. "Has anyone seen Sarah?" She entertained her class for a while and told them to take a worksheet each while she made a call. Piper popped her head into Mr Davison’s class and asked him to keep an eye on her class. She tapped her fingers erratically while the administration office checked up on Mrs Peterson. "Well,?"

"Dr. Bishop, Sarah’s not at home either."

Piper took a shaky breath before entering her classroom. She’ll be fine. She probably got lost on her way to school. The police will do their job. Relax.

"Okay, who can tell me who Alexander is?"

Hailey jumped up and recited, "Alexander III of Macedon, commonly known as Alexander the Great, was a king of the ancient Greek kingdom of Macedon and a member of the…" The young brunette stumbled. Piper could see the happiness leech from the young girl’s face.

"Argead dynasty, idiot." Jeffrey yelled, sticking his tongue out. "She can’t even speak. Are you dumb, Hailey?"

"Enough, Jeffrey, don’t you ever put someone else down for trying. If you keep your head down and keep studying, maybe you can be a teacher too, but trying and failing is better than doing nothing at all." Piper turned her attention to the tears rapidly forming in the child’s blinking eyes. Piper handed her a tissue from her desk and kneeled down next to her. "It’s okay kiddo. We make mistakes sometimes. That doesn’t mean we stop trying. What do you think that word says?" After a couple of tries, Hailey got the hang of it, and Piper could move on.

"Alex spent most of his years on a military campaign through western Asia and northeast Africa," Piper said, drawing their attention to what she’d say was an impressive map. "And by the age of thirty, he had created one of the largest empires of the ancient world, stretching from Greece to northwestern India."

^-^

Gideon and the local sheriff trudged through fallen leaves to the site of where the battered boy was. "This isn’t a dump site," Gideon noted, "the murder happened right here." Kneeling down, he said, more to his own benefit than the sheriff, "Autopsy report claims no sign of a struggle."

"Poor little guy never had a chance."

Gideon envisioned the incident. The 8 year old boy walking past, turning back to see his abuser.

"The victims knew their killer." He muttered to himself. "Followed them to this spot."

"What makes you think that?"

"Well, the kids went this deep into the woods because they trusted them. Probably stashed his weapon here beforehand. We’re looking for someone intelligent, methodical, but the method of killing doesn’t fit. It’s confusing. Doesn’t make sense." Gideon’s words were as fragmented as his thoughts, desperately trying to pull the pieces together.

Less than a quarter mile away from the other dumpsites, the gangly doctor stood next to the bagged and battered kid. "Violence was post-mortem," revealed the medical examiner on the case, equally horrified at the scenes unfolding over the past few weeks.

"So, the killer’s becoming more brazen."

"But now he’s spending more time with the victims even after death." Morgan glanced at the yellow 'Hunting Area' sign nailed to a tree. "If he’s a hunter," Derek turned to Spencer, "he’d know every inch of these woods."

^-^

The PA squealed out just as Piper was getting to the Persian conquest. "All students, please head to the assembly hall immediately, all teachers to the teacher’s lounge." The young woman herded the daydreamers out, grabbed her Doctor Who mug and rushed to the lounge. Whilst pouring herself a cup of coffee, James told her about the parents and the BAU members coming to discuss the murders. Steeling herself for a gruesome speech, Piper headed over to the hall to introduce the kids to FBI agents while James stayed behind to console parents. While the soles of her sneakers rushed, her head wandered. Who were these agents? Were these kids gonna be okay? At the entrance to the hall, her forehead wrinkled and her body collided with a lanky agent and her warm coffee stained the whole of both their cardigans, her brain juice spilling all over the floor.

"Sorry," they both exclaimed. Gideon and JJ walked by, snickering as she entered the hall, but Gideon barely spared them a glance.

"Seriously, I am so sorry." Piper gushed. "I have some tissues, and there’s a bathroom right there."

The agent just laughed and took the cardigan off. "Don’t worry about it, it’s brown anyway." He stared at your TARDIS mug. "Is that…" Piper blanched. Did she now also have to explain Doctor Who to him?

"I know it looks like a phone booth but it’s actually a…" She stumbled. "I have no idea how to explain this without sounding like I’m a complete lunatic."

"No, I know what Doctor Who is." He chuckled softly.

Piper sighed in relief. "Finally, you have no idea the glances I get for this thing."

"Reid!" Gideon yelled from the hallway.

"That’s me. Bye." Spencer waved awkwardly at the young woman in front of him, before sidestepping her quickly to get to his mentor.

^-^

"It could be someone you know or it could be a stranger you pass at the grocery store. But it’s vital that we keep our eyes open and our children close. Now as Ozona’s guidance counsellor, I can only help your children with the aftermath but our police department is working with the FBI, gathering information on the case. To elaborate on that, Agent Jason Gideon." James introduced the middle-aged agent to the anxious parents sitting in the lounge. Reid stood behind his mentor.

"We want you to know we’re doing everything we can to find the person responsible. Until we do there are a number of precautions you need to take. Let me go over some of them with you."

^-^

Piper watched the kids attentively, just barely paying Agent Jareau and Agent Morgan attention.

"It’s a buddy system," JJ started. "That means you always go everywhere with a friend."

"That’s because bad men and women only talk to us when we’re alone."

"We don’t know what these guys look like yet. It might be someone you know."

Hailey raised her hand.

"Yeah, sweetheart, you got a question?" Piper was touched by the kindness in Agent Morgan’s voice. You couldn’t fake that tenderness.

Hailey took a deep breath, "There was this little girl once on the news who just got grabbed right in front of our house. Could that happen to us?"

The tall agent looked back at Agent Jareau. Piper understood the hesitation.

"Hailey, sweetheart, nothing will happen to you, you have my word." She walked over to the young girl and gently rubbed her shoulder. "So long as you listen to the FBI, honey." She nodded to the agents and stepped back.

^-^

"Any more questions?" Gideon asked.

"Did you ever find his hat?" Mrs Faye asked in a trembling voice, fighting the urge to cry.

"'Scuse me?" Jason was confused.

"The red one I put on him. He was wearing it when he left."

"I’m sorry, Mrs Faye," Jason rubbed his hand.

"Mandatory curfew at 5pm." James interjected and dismissed the parents. "Just make sure you know where your children are."

^-^

Piper grabbed her bag after the last bell had gone. The ghosts of Robbie, Nicholas and Sarah hadn’t left your head. She wished she could kiss the fear away from those kids. Piper jumped at the rap on the door.

"Agent Morgan. What can I do you for?"

"Just a few routine questions." Piper gestured to the seat next to her desk.

"How can I help you?"

"How long have you worked here?"

"Must be about a year now."

"As a history teacher?" Piper smiled.

"Did you guess from the armour and the coffin?" The tall doctor swung his head to take a look at the almost replica of armour.

"Have you noticed anyone looking at the children in a strange way?" Morgan continued.

“Is this an original?”

“Gods, no. Everyone knows a teacher doesn’t make enough to own original Macedonian armour. Also Greece refuses to sell any artefact to American citizens considering their scuffle with the British Museum.” Her eyebrows furrowed as she considered Morgan’s question. "I don’t think so. The chances of a child predator in a small town are ridiculously low since state law requires registered sex offenders live 2,000 feet from schools and Texas’s registry is public. I suppose the problem would then be unregistered ones, in which case, kids are always under supervision. Most likely, only someone the kids trust would be the coward doing this. In that scenario, the only adults with that kind of trust would be family friends, family, the teachers and the bus driver. I’ve met all the parents and none of them fit the psychological requirements of a sexual predator and honestly, neither do the teachers."

Morgan smiled at your thought process. "Huh, you’d make quite the profiler, but we don’t think it’s a sexual act since the bodies don’t show any sign of a sexual assault."

Piper mulled over the new information. "I know those kids. They’re good kids and even if it just boils down to a case of rage, no adult within their inner circles would be capable of such a thing. It’s not that it’s impossible, but it is highly unlikely. A lot of these people have kids of their own." She saw the disbelief on their faces so she switched tacks. "What’s your profile of the killer?"

"We can’t disclose that to the public yet."

"Then think of it as a consultation." Piper said, pulling out her resume from an inner drawer.

Morgan whistled and Reid glanced at the sheet over his shoulder. "4 PhDs in clinical, child, abnormal and counselling psychology. Why are you a history teacher?"

Piper glanced at the door. "Everyone told me to start my own practice, and I did." She pointed at the glowing resume in Derek’s hands. "When people heard about this, they came too. But slowly they stopped. At first I thought it was a good sign. But I’d call them in a month, and they’d tell me they’d slipped back into their addictions, or their depressive episodes." She combed her hand through her hair.

"So I quit, packed my bags, moved to Ozona and asked for a teaching position." She let out a shaky breath. "I am more than qualified to help you out, Agent Morgan, so please let me." Morgan looked back at Reid who shrugged.

^-^

"Can I have your attention please?" The local department turned to focus on Agent Gideon. "We’d like to make something clear." He cleared his throat. "Due to the velocity of change, we predict this offender could try to strike again at any time. His confidence builds with every attack."

"Look for someone physically fit, shy, kind disposition. Someone you may trust with your own child. Because the killer targets kids, he may be small himself," Morgan took over, "and though we keep referring to this unsub as he, do not rule out a woman."

A mother and her young son rushed over to the small congregation. Piper recognised her. "Excuse me. My son Matthew never came home today."

Gideon stepped forward, asking where he was last seen. "His teachers saw him in the parking lot after school." At that moment, all officers and agents moved to start looking for the boy. Reid and Morgan turned to the map, trying to figure out how and where he may be taken. Noticing the woman in distress and panic, JJ asked the woman to take a seat. Piper watched the scene from a corner and focused on the little boy with her.

"What are you thinking about over here?" She knelt down in front of him.

"Nothing," said the child softly.

"You look awfully upset to be thinking about nothing. Wanna tell me what’s wrong?"

"Matty said he was just gonna ring the doorbell. At the haunted house. On the hill."

"Finnegan’s place," interrupted James.

"Forever kind of a local legend," the sheriff informed the agents. "Folks say he watches kids from the window. Hunts 'em. Skins 'em. Eats 'em."

"Why weren’t we told about this?" Morgan faced the sheriff. "Fables often come from an ounce of truth. We should exhaust every possibility."

^-^

As day turned to night and the FBI agents raided Finnegan’s manor, Piper sat on her porch, mulling the profile over and over. She knew the people in town. She’d have known if there was a killer in their midst. Do you, though? You think you know better that professional profilers? What, because you wrote a few research papers in 4 years. Get a grip. She glanced at Old Man Finnegan’s place. He’d stopped coming into the town after his wife died, she knew that much. No, it couldn’t be him. Why would the kids trust a man they fear? So, who? Shaking her head, the young woman walked into the house. She grabbed a mandarin from her little fruit bowl and busied herself making a cup of tea. I have to be making an assumption. C’mon Pipes! Her mind flashed back to class. The little boy in her 7th grade class yelling at little Hailey then the incident in April in the parking lot. Ignoring the yell of her kettle, Piper left her orange on the counter and rushed to her dining table to her binders. She scrambled to her 7th grade class binder. Jeffrey Charles and on top, her cursive handwriting that her mom was so damn proud of. Father, James Charles, guidance counsellor. Mother, unknown, left in Apr. 2006. She flicked to her notes.

Disruptive. Borderline bully. Possesses strained empathy for others. Loner. Apathetic towards school. Can be attributed to broken family.

She glanced at the time. 1:30 am. Shit. Should I call Morgan anyway? Piper pulled out her phone and the card Derek had given her. Not giving her brain the chance to overthink, Piper dialled the number. After 7 rings, she hangs up. Of course he didn’t pick up your call. Did you really think what you have to say matters? She brushed the nasty voice of her dad off, but left the phone on the table. She took the kettle off, turned the lights off, locked the door, and went to bed.

^-^

The boys separated in the night, torches and guns at the ready. Gideon and Reid took the back while Morgan and the sheriff took the front of the house. Morgan flicked the lights on and off, but nothing happened. "Definitely haunted."

Gideon and Reid edged towards the garage. "FBI," Gideon yelled, only to hear the soft mumbles of a child.

"I didn’t want the old man to find me."

"All right," Gideon said, rather gruffer than he intended, "No one’s gonna harm you."

^-^

Spencer settled down in the darkness. "Hey Garcia, did you get anything?" he greeted their tech analyst softly.

"Well, only that Finnegan’s house in the hill is like the Bates hotel of Ozona, Texas." She grinned and continued her knitting.

"Yeah, we heard the legends."

"Spencer, seriously, people that go into that house supposedly never come out. SpoOky!" Penelope sang.

"Garcia, could you at least pretend not to enjoy that rumour so much considering I’ve actually entered the house?"

"Sensitive," she mocked the young doctor. "Sorry,"

"Besides, local police say there are no reports of that happening."

"Yeah, this is true. All complaints filed were false alarms. But then there is that matter of his missing wife," the blonde taunted.

"Wife? What wife? When did she go missing?"

"Almost 50 years ago," she said sinisterly.

"Is there no record of her ever being found?"

"I got 2 words for you my friend, rear window." Reid abandoned his files to pay attention to his dear, quirky and unrelentingly mischievous friend. "That guy probably chopped that lady up into delicious, bite-sized little pieces."

Something creaked outside Reid’s window.

"Think about it, Spencer," she continued, "she may have never left the premises." Garcia could barely contain her giggles. "She may still be in the house," she whispered into her mic.

That creaking something creaked again.

"Garcia, I’m sitting here in the dark, alone. Thanks."

"While you’re waiting for a potential murderer to come home, that’s kinda dangerous." Garcia smiled into her mic, twisting her pen in her hand and picturing the deliciously scared features on Spencer’s face. "Kinda sexy," she added.

"I gotta go," Reid said, looking out into the darkness on the other side of the window.

"You’re having creepy fun, I wish I was there."

As Reid turned off his cell, he glanced back towards the noises on the stairs. Slowly standing up, he felt something. An entity. A presence. An existence. Spencer turned his head around, only to bump into a tall, dark stranger and he jumped, terrified. "You really are afraid of the dark," Derek said, smiling.

"I’m working on it," Spencer shot back quickly and walked away.

"You should work a little harder."

The sheriff came back to the group, reporting that his deputy would get the boy back safe. Morgan shook his head. The whole town was on edge. Perhaps that’s why Finnegan was in the wind. The agent flicked his torch to the wall, only to see a rack of rifles.

"The unsub didn’t use a gun," Gideon pointed out. He kept walking, piecing together his thoughts aloud. "Finnegan’s an avid hunter, why didn’t he use it?" He reached under the table to pull out Robbie’s lunchbox and Sarah’s backpack.

"I guess Finnegan brought the kids back here before finishing them off. But why wouldn’t he get rid of the evidence?"

"He considers them trophies,"Spencer said softly.

Morgan huffed. "When this is all said and done, I’d like to hang his head on a wall."

^-^

Morgan, Reid and Gideon paced the next crime scene, only this time it wasn’t a child. It was Finnegan. The medical examiner explained that he died of natural causes.

"His heart probably gave out while setting this trap," Reid suggested.

"Yeah, well, karma’s a bitch," the M.E. commented, "those coyotes were gnawing on him for a week."

"Before the second or third murders even happened," Morgan pointed out.

"This area’s off the travelled path, it’s a wonder anyone even discovered him at all."

"If you ask me," the medical examiner suggested, "those leaves didn’t cover him by themselves."

"If Finnegan’s been dead all this time, who’s living in his house?"

^-^

Piper Bishop rose later than usual. 7 am. She’d missed the sunrise. Shit. Pulling on her slippers, she went through the rounds; a cup of tea, pancakes, review of the class schedule and that’s when she remembered. She meant to call Morgan in the morning. She dialled his cell again. Nothing. Sighing, she told herself she’d drop by later today. She changed into her favourite outfit, white satin button-up, dark blue pants, grey blazer, drop necklace.

^-^

"Here’s a question," Reid asked, crossing his legs on the couch, "if a tree falls in the forest, does it make a sound in nobody hears it?"

Morgan stared at him. "What the hell are you reading over there?"

"I was just thinking," Reid gazed back at the journals on his lap.

"Found something," Gideon announced. The boys followed him into the kitchen.

"Provisions," he said, staring at the near-dozen near-empty dishes, "delivered by the church to every elderly’s doorstep." He waved his hand to all of them, saying, "Each one dated after Finnegan died."

"So the unsub ate everything?" Morgan asked.

"Almost everything," Gideon answered, "unopened bowls of creamed spinach thrown in the trash, each one wrapped with duct tape."

"One with each tray," Spencer noted, handling the casings carefully.

"So we’re looking for a guy who really, really hates spinach?" Morgan was exasperated.

"Who doesn’t?" Spencer retorted.

"Ritualised, meticulous, organised."

"He would eat the same particulars." Reid was confused.

"Full prints," Gideon ordered. At that, Gideon’s cell rang and seeing the name, walked out.

"It’s about Elle, isn’t it?" Spencer said, walking closer to Derek, arms crossed. "I talked to her in Ohio."

"Reid, we all talked to her."

"No, no, I talked to her before. I went to her room one night and…she was drinking."

"She almost died. I’d be drinking too."

^-^

To say Piper was frustrated would not even begin to cover her chagrin at being unable to talk to Morgan. He wasn’t answering his cell and she couldn’t find a sub this last minute. Her students felt the tension and none wanted to see her explode. They kept quiet, answering their comprehension questions of Alexander the Great’s Persian conquests. As soon as the bell rang, she started, rushing students out the door and grabbing her bag. She dialled the sheriff’s number and asked to meet his as soon as possible.

"Just hear me out, Sheriff," she pleaded.

"You really expect me to believe that a child could do something as heinous as this."

"Jeffrey isn’t an ordinary child. His mother left him in April, you know that. Children grow resentful of other children anyway."

"That’s ridiculous. So he’s a little jealous." He got up and started pacing.

"Except he’s not just resentful about mothers, it’s about James too. You and I both know how much he cares about those kids. Some days he calls me at 3 in the morning to talk about how stressed he is. Not 'cause of his workload, but 'cause he’s worried he’s not doing enough. Sheriff, I’m begging you to see reason."

"No, you’re delusional."

"I don’t think you know what that word means and you definitely aren’t qualified to use it.”

"A child would never do this."

"That’s exactly why you’ll never find your killer."

"Are you doubting me, Ms Bishop?"

"No," she said forcefully, "Quite frankly, Sheriff, you don’t know the first thing about kids. I’ve seen how worried Langdon gets sometimes because he’s scared that his Daddy isn’t going to come home one day. I’m not doubting your ability, Sheriff, I’m doubting whether you’ll find the unsub before another child has to die. 3 children are dead, I’m trying to help and for the record, it’s Doctor." For once, she felt calmer and having said her piece, she walked out the sheriff’s office, greeting Agent Gideon politely before she walked away from the both of them.

^-^

"Why the woods, JJ?" Morgan asked, sipping his terrible coffee in station’s waiting room.

"Hmm?"

"Your fear, you said it was of the woods. Why?"

"Oh, I was a camp counsellor when I was a teenager. In the woods up in Vermont, I had the night shift. Tucked the girls in, turned off the lights, you know the typical stuff. Everything seemed fine, all the kids were asleep, you know. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Until, I noticed there was some blood on the hallway floor. So I followed the blood trail out to the camp director’s cabin, walked up to his bed and he was just lying underneath his covers, dead. Someone stabbed him. I ran out of there so fast, out the door, down the hall, I just remember it being really dark and once I got to the door, there was another counsellor. I guess she must have heard me scream. Anyway, they caught the cleaner on his way to town. He must have had the knife on him. So, that’s when I decided didn’t like the woods." JJ fought to suppress her giggles at Derek’s expression.

"You’re serious?"

"No," She laughed. "No, I don’t know why I’m afraid of the woods. Why is he still afraid of the dark?"

"Yeah, Reid?"

"Because of the inherent absence of light," he replied.

"That was good JJ," Morgan’s phone started ringing, "Just know that paybacks are a bitch."

"Hey girl," he called to his favourite tech analyst.

"I love our relationship. We barely need words."

"Talk to me baby."

"So I pulled two sets of prints of those trays," she said.

"Two?"

"Yeah, one of them belonging to a child?"

"Okay, which one of the victims? Why don’t you work with the Ozona Coroner’s Office?"

"Oh baby, that’s so yesterday. I’ve already got those minions working on it. The other set, however, is on the database. Name is James Charles, he’s the-"

"He’s the local guidance counsellor helping with the investigation."

"You’re kidding. Sending address now." Morgan looked at the two agents who had just abandoned their cups.

"Call Gideon. We know who the unsub is."

^-^

Piper was supervising the history projects. She’d managed to pull off having a history fair with a Renaissance theme to cheer the kids up. Each kid had to make a diorama and the history department would judge based on creativity, historical merit and above all enthusiasm, a word she was not feeling. A month ago, she would’ve been over the moon, but now, all she was thinking about was when the next body would show up. She’d yelled at the sheriff and Agent Gideon had seen it. It was unprofessional and now they’d never listen to her. So you finally agree then? It was a stupid and unnecessary thing to say. Clearly you aren’t as praiseworthy as teachers say. "Ugh," Piper swept her short wavy hair into a tight ponytail. Kneeling next to Langdon, she asked him where Jeffrey was. His shrug was worrying. Piper pulled out her cell and called the administration office. "Hi ladies, is Jeffrey at school today? He’s not in my class."

"His dad called him in sick."

"Thanks, girls." Piper tried to push it out of her mind. Maybe she was wrong.

After school was out, Piper grabbed her things and left. That’s right baby girl. Just let the police do their job and just go home like the insignificant bitch you are. She grabbed her helmet and was about to drive home when she got a call from the ladies in Administration.

"It’s James. They’ve arrested them Piper. What do we do?"

"Hang tight Claudia, I’ll deal with it, okay."

^-^

"Here’s the deal," Morgan leaned over James in the interrogation room, "I could stand here and tell you what I think you were doing in Finnegan’s house for the last 2 weeks. Or, you could do us all a favour. Sign a confession, maybe get a little something taken off your time. What’d you say?"

"I never stepped inside Finnegan’s house." James stared right back into Morgan’s eyes.

"What the hell do you think you’re doing?" Piper slammed the door behind her. The agents turned from staring at the small television screen. "Seriously, you think Jamie would do something like this?"

"Piper," The sheriff started.

"No, you don’t get that privilege anymore. It’s Doctor or nothing because clearly you don’t value my experience, Sheriff. I’m sorry to interrupt what clearly isn’t a waste of your time, Agents, but James couldn’t have done any of this."

"Then why won’t he talk to us? He had the baseball cap at his house, his prints are all over the food trays. I don’t see another explanation."

"His prints were on the food trays because he volunteers at the church’s food drive and he’s not the one with the baseball cap, it’s his son. That’s why he called him in sick yesterday, it’s why he’s hiding the truth from you all. James doesn’t have the time nor the motive. If his wife left him, why would he attack kids? More importantly when? When he isn’t at school, he has a session with a kid. If not there, helping with your investigation or handing out food for retired folks. The man has no opportunity and no motive. If anything, he’d be killing women resembling his wife, but instead he’s devoting every possible minute of his life to this community. As for why I think it’s Jeffrey, if you’d listened to me, Sheriff, the kid lost his mom in April. If you don’t know, if a kid loses a parent when they’re in their formative years as a result of abandonment rather than death, they grow increasing resentful of kids who do have their parents. Except for Jeffrey, it’s like he lost both. When his mother left, James devoted his life to the community and as a natural consequence, Jeffrey lost his father too. Whether you believe me or not is up to you, but 3 kids are dead and Jeffrey is missing." They were all standing up, ignoring the interrogation and gawking at Piper. Reid couldn’t stop staring at her and her ears began to redden significantly. Gideon broke the silence.

"Stay. Observe. You know him better than we do. Watch his behaviour and tell me if you don’t think he’s guilty."

Piper was slightly relieved that Gideon took her seriously enough to let her stay.

"How these last 6 months been for you James? Not too good huh? I don't know, your whole life is falling apart isn't it? Oh yeah you got to be feeling a loss of control, sense of abandonment. And I would guess, a little impotent maybe?" Morgan chuckled. "Come on man, give me something! Why did your wife leave you? What happened James, she get bored? I mean you don't seem all that exciting to me. She started feeling a little uninspired? You're not a minute man, aren't you? Uh, that's what it is!"

"You don’t think that’s a little uncalled for?" Piper exclaimed.

"We need him to talk. If he gets angry, he may slip up." Piper settled down.

^-^

"You think Dr. Bishop’s right?" Reid asked, playing with the handcuffs in his palm.

"I don’t know. I can’t believe a kid could be capable of something like this. She seems close to James too. Could be covering for him."

"I guess so."

"You know, it's bad enough his mother left and now his father's in custody. We’ve also got to take the poor kid into child services."

"It’s the law."

So is jaywalking. I don't have to like it. Good afternoon this is Agent Jareau, with the FBI, we're gonna be picking up Jeffrey Charles in about 20 minutes, if... Okay, I see. Thank you."

"What is it?"

"Dr Bishop may have been right."

^-^

"Jeffrey never was at school today. His father said he was sick." JJ informed them.

Piper’s instinct was to yell 'Aha!' but thankfully she went against it.

"Reid, go though his apartment." Gideon ordered.

"No, you don’t seriously still think this is his fault."

"I think he may have blamed his kid for his failed marriage."

"Then I can’t watch this interview. Let me help Dr Reid with the search." Everyone looked to Gideon.

"Okay, fine. Reid, keep an eye on her."

^-^

"Why are you so sure it isn’t him?" Reid asked her softly.

"Hmm?" Piper looked up from the abandoned dirty dishes.

"What you said back there, how are you so sure?"

"I’m not exactly the most experienced psychologist. I mean, I’ve studied it, wrote about it, talked in conferences about it, but I haven’t applied it, not the way he has. I guess, if he does turn out to be the killer," she huffed, "then he’s not the man I hoped he’d be." Reid stared at her.

Piper pulled the elastic from her hair and moved past Spencer to the bookshelf.

"It’s difficult. Being a single parent. Not that I would know. But I can understand." She pulled a book of the shelf. Kurt Vonnegut. "But James handled it as best he could. He put his personal trauma aside for the whole community. Only issue was," she turned to look back into Reid’s soft gaze, "his kid got the brunt of it. Most saints have something to hide, Spence. Gandhi accused his eldest son of 'alcohol and debauchery,' even sexual assault. And no-one believes me because no-one’s met the kid. He has serious rage issues, strained empathy for others and is apathetic to others."

"Huh. Look at this." Piper moved towards the doctor.

"It’s an EpiPen. So?"

"So, at Finnegan’s house, we found all the creamed spinach duck-taped and thrown out."

"Spence," Piper levelled her gaze, "Jeffrey has an allergy to dairy."

^-^

"Can I have a word with him?" Gideon asked. Morgan nodded and left the room. "It’s a rough day, huh? Coffee?"

"Yeah I wouldn't mind."

"Milk?"

"Please."

"So how long have you known that your son is a murderer?" Gideon abruptly asked without breaking eye contact.

"What are you talking about?"

"You might have been the one who brought the food trays to Finnegan's, but your son ate them, everything but the creamed spinach."

"You want me to confess? Is that what this game is? That's fine. You bring me another pen, I'll write out my confession."

"We found an EpiPen in your kitchen."

"So what that proves that my kid has an allergy."

"To milk."

Piper had had enough. "Let me in there, I’ll get him to talk. If Gideon threatens the freedom of his child, James won’t talk. He’ll talk to me."

"Not with Gideon in there." Morgan chided you.

^-^

Piper sat cross-legged on the chair, head resting on the back of her arms. Morgan was almost falling asleep. Reid was on his 8th cup of coffee. Piper’s ringtone woke Derek up and she couldn’t help laughing. "Big bad Derek Morgan’s afraid of a ringtone?" she laughed and raised the phone to her ear.

"Hi, Mrs Belle. How can I help you? Is Tracy okay?" Piper’s change of expression from glee to gloom wasn’t lost on anyone. "Okay, sit tight Mrs Belle, we’ll find her. Please relax." Piper hung up the phone and tied her short hair up again.

"Tracey Belle was just reported missing. Last seen getting off her school bus on Fuller Road."

^-^

What happened after was just a blur. Piper had managed to convince Gideon to let her come, citing her certification for hostage negotiation. They’d all strapped the Kevlar suits on and found a spare for her. Reid and JJ left in one car, Morgan and the sheriff in another and Piper was paired with Gideon.

"Why are you a history teacher?" Gideon asked.

"Hmm?"

"You’re 25, you have 4 Ph.Ds in Psychology, a Masters in History and Bachelors in Literature."

"Thought I wasn’t doing much good in a university classroom. Swapped it for an elementary school"

"I’m a profiler. Don’t lie to me."

"Yes, sir. They wouldn’t come because they didn’t want people to think they or their kids were crazy. So I stopped. I wrote books and papers. I taught at universities. But I kept getting this nagging thing in my head, that I should be doing more. So I packed and moved."

"Where’d you teach?"

"The main ones. Guest lectured at Brown for months at a time. Harvard was my alma mater so I was there for a semester. Columbia offered but I rejected them. They were kinda stung that I chose a high school over them." He chuckled at that. "None of you smile a lot."

"Hmm?"

"Especially you. Do the cases get that bad?"

"Yeah."

"So why do it?" The car stopped near the woods. They both got out of the vehicle and headed towards the others.

"Because it has to be done." He looked over at her and smiled.

^-^

Tracy was running. Her bag was gone. Jeffrey was going to hurt her. She knew she was at the playground, but after a few minutes, the woods had enveloped her. She prayed that her mom was looking, that someone was looking, but the only thing that filled the little girl’s little heart was the dread. Dread that in these big bad woods, she was all alone with a killer.

"Split up, she’s gotta be somewhere."

Bishop and Gideon ran through the woods looking for the small blonde.

"Tracy!"

Trees.

"Tracy!"

Trees everywhere.

"Tracy!"

They were looking for a red and a blond needle in a green and orange haystack.

"Tracey!" Jeffrey cried in a sing song voice. "Let's just go home. I was only playing! Why do you have to be such a baby? Tracey?"

Tracy’s feet hurt. She should have been home by now. She staggered towards the nearest tree and hid. He couldn’t find her here, would he? Her breaths were jagged and she was terrified.

Bishop heard screaming. "Tracy!" They ran towards the piercing scream. She saw the scene unfolding and determined to be anything but helpless, Piper ran in between Jeffrey and Tracy. "Stop!" Gideon ran to Jeffrey, locking him in one arm, throwing the bat away with the other. Piper pushed Tracy into JJ’s arms and breathed with relief.

^-^

In the aftermath of things, James was pacing, scared of what his kid had become, terrified of what would happen to him. Piper held her head in her hands, sitting on the parkside bench. Morgan gently pushed Jeffrey into the car. Reid sat next to her.

"You did good."

"Did I? I blamed a kid for a serial murder because he lost his mother. What does that make me?" Piper lifted her head to look at him.

"A profiler." Spencer rubbed her shoulder and walked away. Piper glanced at James, pacing.

"You think you could have prevented this?"

"Maybe if I’d been there for him…"

She put a hand on his shoulder. "James, you’d put the world’s problems on your own back if you could. You can still be there for him. What he did, it isn’t his fault and it isn’t yours." He looked at Piper, his gaze shattered, his soul broken.

"You really believe that?"

"I believe that care and love can make anything possible."

^-^

Piper packed her things slowly. She folded her maps, packed away the Macedon’s armour and the Egyptian coffin.

"So where to next?" Gideon leaned on her desk, arms crossed.

"Vacation to Italy, maybe Venice. Figuring things out." She shrugged.

"You did good today, but…you could be better."

"I’m sorry?"

"I want you on the team." Piper levelled her gaze to Gideon, standing straight.

"In what capacity?"

"Consultant, on a temporary basis. If you put in the hours and do the classes, maybe even an agent. You in?"

"This a one-time offer?"

"Yes."

"I’m in."

#criminal minds #spencer reid #derek morgan #penelope garcia #jj #gideon #spencer reid x oc #reid x oc

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gothic-safari-clown · 3 years

Text

The Mind’s Power Over the Body

Part 18: Unstoppable

Story summary: They only ever had each other. It had been that way since high school, ever since Elianna transferred to dreary Arlen and took Jonathan under her wing. They go separate ways for college, and when they're reunited at Arkham Asylum professionally, Elianna comes to find that they've both changed during their time separated. Can she look past the promise of danger and stay by Jonathan's side as they slide further and further into the darkness while she grapples to come to terms with the truth about herself? Can she accept what needs to be done in order to hold onto the only person who holds any meaning in her life? This is a very self-indulgent AU that draws from several different canons of the DCU and ignoring others, starting in the Batman Begins Nolanverse. This will follow the plot of the movie, although the timeline has been very slightly tweaked.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12 / Part 13 / Part 14 / Part 15 / Part 16 / Part 17

Word count: 2011

This chapter is really dumb and cheesy just a heads up 😂 I wanted to dabble in old school fanfic while I wrote this one I think. Idk, it’s kinda cute

El had come to hate the weekends. There was no substance to her days off now that she knew the thrills offered by the wretch of a city. Jonathan wouldn't let her run his underworld errands with him; an attempt to keep her safe from Falcone, he said. While she understood and appreciated the sentiment, the result was dreadfully long and slow weekends. They couldn't go to Arkham to supervise the project, lest they draw suspicion, and if Jonathan wouldn't take her with him to meetings, it left her with very little to do in the apartment.

Luckily, the day after her nightmare Jonathan had no reason to leave the apartment. On the other hand, he had spent his day worrying over her incessantly. Well, as much as Jonathan could "worry incessantly" in his own subdued way.

He had let her sleep in for hours, made her breakfast when she woke, and she was currently curled up on the couch next to him with the softest blanket from his linen closet. He had even let her pick the movie they were watching.

"Hey, Jonathan?"

"Mm?"

"Am I dying or something?" He looked across the couch at her, confused. "You're being really nice today. Are you still 'being me,' or am I dying?"

"Oh. Neither." He fell back into silence rather than offering the explanation that El was looking for. She waited patiently for a minute or two, giving him the opportunity to explain himself of his own volition before sitting up with a huff and pausing the TV, moving to sit next to him.

"What's going on? Is everything okay?" El watched as Jonathan set his jaw firmly, releasing a long slow breath, all the while staring inscrutably at the coffee table. By the time he finally looked at her, the anticipation had made her too anxious even to admire the hue of his eyes as she normally would.

"Last night, you..." he trailed off and let out another sigh before continuing, "it made me worry. I've been thinking all day, and I'm wondering if maybe you would be better off leaving Gotham now and going somewhere without me." Whatever she had been expecting, this wasn't it. Her brow furrowed, and she struggled to organize her thoughts enough to argue as he spoke again. "I know you, and I know that that wasn't normal, and it wouldn't have happened if I hadn't gotten you involved."

"So what?" she sputtered. "Jonathan, you got me involved, but if I didn't want to be still involved, I wouldn't be. Don't worry about me. You're not responsible for my decisions."

Her words did little to soothe him, and he leaned against the back of the couch with his head tilted all the way back to look at the ceiling. "No, I'm not, but this is clearly taking a toll on you. I just think it might be better if-"

"I understand what you're saying, but you're wrong," interrupted El. "If I were to leave now, I would just worry about you more. Without me, you're on your own here, and it's going to take a lot more than some stupid bad dream to make me abandon you. I know that you can handle all of this on your own, but as long as I'm here, I'm going to keep supporting you in whatever ways I can."

He was technically right, to an extent; it wasn't normal for a nightmare to break her like that. But the fact remained that it was only a dream, and the fact that it had immediately followed a dosing of fear toxin only served to solidify her point further. It would never have affected me like that if I hadn't insisted on a second toxin trial.

Jonathan mulled over what she said for what seemed like ages, to the point that Elianna wasn't even sure where his train of thought may have taken him. Regardless, she knew that he must have been trying to come up with some absurd reason why she should leave anyway. Deciding to let him think (and knowing that she would win this debate with this move), she pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders and lifted his arm to slot herself against his side.

He looked down at her as she settled his arm around her back, only to find her already looking up at him patiently with big green eyes. Shit. He could never argue with her when she looked at him like that, and she knew it. He did his best to steel his resolve, but then she blinked at him so sweetly that he had no choice.

"Fine," he sighed, finally looking away from her. "But no more toxin. From now on, you're just helping me supervise, understood?" He felt her nod fervently and wrap her arms tight around him. How did she always manage to get under his skin so well?

"I can't believe you thought you could get rid of me that easily," she scoffed. "I'm here to stay, love. I left you behind once, and I'm not going to do it again." Jonathan was amused by the childish notion behind her words but appreciated the sentiment nonetheless.

He was silently glad that she had pushed against him on this particular issue. While he still believed that she would be safer away from the city, he really didn't want her to leave. She was too...important. As proven by how easily she could get him to concede just by looking at me, for fuck's sake.

"You know I would never try to get rid of you." Jonathan still faced difficulty coming to terms with her effect on him, but this time he didn't have the energy to fight it. Deep down, he knew that he had let her win, selfishly wanting her to stay. Unwilling to resist, he let his cheek rest against the top of her head. "Sometimes I might think about it, but I'm not stupid." He felt her laugh.

"Understandable." She tilted her head back to look at him, and he lifted his head from hers to mirror her gaze. A soft smile spread over her face. "One of these days, I'm going to get you to admit outright that you love me." She said smugly, undeterred by his impassive expression.

He could tell by the look on her face that she had begun speaking absentmindedly, but Jonathan found himself more focused on the conversation in his head; naturally, Scarecrow had his own opinion on what El had said.

She's got a point. We should just get it over with now.

That isn't what she means.

Sure it is! See the way she looks at us? Come ooonnn, what's the harm? If it goes south, I'll just take care of it.

You absolutely will not.

I still don't see why we shouldn't get rid of her anyway. Loose ends, Jonny. If she's dead, she can't snitch.

She isn't going to. She would have done it already, and she's never told anyone about everything else we've done; why would she start now?

Yeah, and why do you think that is? Principle? Honesty? She likes us, Jonny. If you don't take care of it now, then I will.

With that, the straw man retreated to the back of Jonathan's mind in smug silence. The ambiguity of Scarecrow's ultimatum made him nervous, as he was unsure of what Scarecrow's version of "taking care of it" might be. But Jonathan knew ultimately that his alter was actually right this time. All of the jokes, the affection, the trust, and when she looked at him the way she had done just a minute before...

It was almost terrifying to think that the woman he had held so dear for so long might harbor feelings for him, and the true rush of the unknown exhilarated him. As strange as it would be, Jonathan knew what he wanted to do and resolved on the spot to act upon it before he could talk himself back out of it as he was wont to do.

"Not verbally, necessarily," she spoke up again, "but one of these days, you're going to do something, and I'll kno-"

The rest of El's sentence was cut short by something that could not have caught her more off guard, and while some part of her seemed to process it immediately (judging by how hard her heart was beating), it took a moment for her brain to catch up.

Jonathan had interrupted her by cupping the side of her face with his free hand and, in one fluid motion, had tilted her head back more and kissed her full on the mouth ever so softly. Her mind hadn't yet finished racing with unanswered questions when her internal monologue switched abruptly to, "oh, fuck it."

At that moment, she didn't need to understand anything. By way of response, she lifted her own hand to close lightly around his wrist, keeping his hand against her face and returned the tentative kiss with one of her own.

Both of their stomachs exploded into butterflies, but for vastly different reasons. Jonathan felt a rush of relief from the reciprocation and a flutter of nervousness caused by sudden instability for the future that it implied. In the same moment, Elianna found an emotional release and a thrill caused by the same unclear future, eager to build something new, powerful even.

Whatever her motivation, when El kissed him again, Jonathan was more than eager to return the action, and all of his apprehensiveness began to melt away. It was a rare moment of clarity for him, as he found himself truly in the moment. She had kissed him. Things that had been so important to him only minutes before were suddenly irrelevant, and when El pulled away and buried her face into his neck, holding him so tight, he was all too glad to squeeze her closer.

He thought that he had never been more determined to do anything as he was to keep her safe previously, but having finally given in to the impulse that he had been repressing since their teen years, Jonathan realized his previous resolve had been trivial. This, with all of its implicit devotion attached, changed everything so drastically. Nobody would ever hurt her again; not Zsasz, not Scarecrow, not anybody.

It was a good feeling, if a bit overwhelming. Following his new theme of letting himself enjoy the things he wanted, Jonathan allowed himself to feel at ease, content. He even cracked a smile when a small voice chimed, "I told you so," from somewhere near his collarbone.

"Yes, you did." He stroked back her hair and left a lingering kiss on top of her head, and felt her delighted smile split her face as she hugged him tighter (if that was even possible).

"Now you're really not getting rid of me. You know that, right?"

"I know. That's what I wanted." El hummed happily in response, breathing in the smell of his clothes. Being wrapped up against him like this felt...right. Like this was what their entire friendship had always been leading to, and now that it had been fulfilled, nothing could stop her.

Ever at the whim to her desires, and knowing that Jonathan couldn't be relied on to do the same, El straightened back up to stand on her knees and captured him in another kiss, deeper than before. With no protest, Jonathan locked his arms securely around her waist to keep her close and responded in kind.

Everything else forgotten, the new couple passed the day away in a world of their own making, testing the limits, and exploring new possibilities. Totally focused on each other, they both forgot everything about the killing of the city, the crimes they were committing together, the hells they had been put through, all of it wiped away; with every kiss, every gentle touch, every movement erased every atrocity, past and future. The new, stronger nature of their companionship made them unstoppable.

#the mind's power over the body #Attraction To The Insane #Jonathan Crane #scarecrow #Elianna Montgomery #jonathan crane x ofc #scarecrow x ofc #slight au #fanfiction #multi chapter fic #scarecrow fanfic #fic series #cillian murphy #cillian murphy scarecrow #tmpotb chapter 18

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damienthepious · 4 years

Text

okay at least one of y’all guessed Scattered so CONGRATULATION, FRIENDO. also. jesus fuck i’m sorry i keep doing this. ONE more chapter. ONE more. I think.

Scattered On My Shore (chapter 18)

[Ch 1] [Ch 2] [Ch 3] [Ch 4] [Ch 5] [Ch 6] [Ch 7] [Ch 8] [Ch 9] [Ch 10] [Ch 11] [Ch 12] [Ch 13] [Ch 14] [Ch 15] [Ch 16] [Ch 17] [ao3] [Ch 19]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla, Sir Damien/Rilla, Lord Arum & The Keep

Characters: Rilla, Lord Arum, Sir Damien, The Keep

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Pre-Relationship, (for the three of them. it’s established r/d), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Injury, Injury Recovery, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, (this will also be), Enemies to Lovers, (for damien and arum eventually lol), Mutual Pining, canon typical Arum ignoring feelings

Fic Summary: Strange things wash up out of the lake near Rilla’s hut, on occasion. But this monster… this monster is certainly the strangest.

Chapter Summary: The Lord of the Swamp has returned home! An exciting event for all who live there, certainly. Arum's humans want some assurance that he will still be safe, when they leave him to return to their own home.

Chapter Notes: There's some discussion of mental health, depression, and suicidal ideation in this chapter, mostly dealing with past events in the fic. Take care of yourselves! I love you! aaaaaa kinda freaking out we're so close to the end now aaaaaaaa im. not ready

They stay an extra day. Just to be certain that the Keep's influence and healing are truly going to stick, Amaryllis says, but none of them are fooled.

Arum does not feel as if their time together is passing correctly; every moment feels distinctly present, his awareness heightened by their closeness and by the Keep's consciousness at his edges again, but time rushes past with the speed of a hunted hare. Arum does not know how to dig his claws into this day and make it stay, if only for a moment or so longer.

When they pull themselves from embrace in the late morning, they eat together again (as close by his side as the night previous, and Arum feels warm from his core). After, they explore the greenhouse more deeply, and Damien recites something that bounces such with clever rhyme that Arum can hardly keep up with the content rather than the form.

He takes them outside, then, because they are curious about the swamp itself, and because Arum cannot seem to deny them their curiosities. He cannot seem to, he does not want to- the fact that they wish to know his home is so intoxicating a realization that he can hardly prevent himself from gripping their hands and rushing to show them every single thing that they could possibly have an interest in.

The Keep opens the way, letting them out at the front, near one of the wider ponds, and-

And the noise strikes Arum first. Instinctively he spreads his arms, pressing Amaryllis and Damien behind himself, safe between his back and the Keep, and then he blinks and realizes what, precisely, he hears. What he sees.

His denizens. The assembled masses of the swamp, flocks and families all gathered on the water and among the low foliage and up in the branches, the venomous monkeys interspersed with brightly colored birds, egrets and lynxfish at the edge of the water, frogs and snakes and chittering rodents, every single beast with a touch of his Keep at its heart-

They have amassed here, outside his home, and their rustling feathers and trilling peeps and croaks and squawks, their hooting and scuffling all slowly die off as each one of them turns their gaze upon him.

And then, after that pause, that silence, the crowd erupts.

It is a decidedly cheerful eruption, but Arum still takes a step backward at the sudden noise, pressing the humans back with him as the denizens of his swamp give one enormous, celebratory noise.

Arum can feel the Keep behind him, all smugness and delight, and as the cheering begins to subside, a suspiciously familiar bird alights at to his left, its head tilted to fix him with bright, beady eyes.

"A-ah." Arum stares at the heron, and he hears Amaryllis give a stunned, breathy laugh behind him. "You- ah. What did I say… spread the word if you must," he mutters. "I see you took that instruction quite to heart, yes?"

The heron chuffs, and then preens as if distracted, and Arum laughs as well as the crowd fades back to silence entirely, staring up at him with obvious expectation.

"Er- they seem," Damien laughs nervously when Arum glances over his shoulder to meet the poet's eyes. "Rather- rather exuberant, I should say."

"I mean, yeah, but can you blame them?" Amaryllis adds.

"No, not at all, it is simply- I was not expecting-" Damien laughs again, and this time when Arum glances to check his expression the poet looks almost shy. "It is simply that… I am quite glad to know that you are so beloved, Arum."

Arum blinks, and then he glances back towards the creatures amassed, surrounding. He sighs, but- he cannot quite bury the wry smile that curls his mouth as he steps forward again, allowing his cape to billow behind him.

He waits for a moment, allowing the excited tittering to die back down after his movement, and then he straightens his spine.

"I suppose the lot of you were eager to see proof with your own eyes, rather than rumor on wing." He shoots a glance towards the heron, who makes an admirable show of puffing up its feathers with pride. "Well," he says slowly. "You may lay your fears to rest. I was separated from my purpose by treachery, kept distant by injury, but-" his voice fails, an unexpected hitch in his throat, and he shakes his head quickly. "But I- I am home. I have come home, and I will not be parted from it again. I- I apologize, for the length of my absence-"

He hears the humans behind him make simultaneous disapproving noises, and he shakes his head again.

"It was never my intention to be kept away for so long." He grits his teeth. "It was never my intention to be away at all. Though-"

He can feel the slight tickle of heat, the radiant warmth of the humans behind him, the safety of their presence at his back.

"Though I will admit that the distance has given me a rather inarguable dose of perspective . The Swamp of Titan's Blooms will be reassessing certain alliances and enmities in the near future," he says in a growl, "but- for the moment, it is sufficient that I am home. I will not be torn away again."

The heron cries out, and Arum attempts not to appear startled when the assembly of his denizens takes up the cheer in response. He manages, barely, not to allow his frill to flare. It ruffles at his neck instead, and he grumbles as the noise fades off again. The heron squawks a question as he is opening his mouth to continue, a pointed inquiry, and Arum bristles, but-

Well. The question is a fair one. Arum himself barely understands how this particular arrangement is even possible.

"These- they are-" Arum pauses. He swallows, and then he half turns to glance back towards the humans, and then he quickly turns his attention back to the front as the looks on their faces break through his control, causing his frill to flare partway. The assembled beasts shuffle, slightly, but they do not chitter or call through his brief silence, and he squares his shoulders. "Amaryllis and- and Sir Damien," he says. At the edge of his vision Amaryllis waves, the absurd, charming creature, and he feels Damien stiffen at the further attention. He inhales, and then he- he reaches back, opening his palms without looking behind himself again, and before he can harbor even a moment of doubt he feels their fingers twine with his own, and they step up beside him properly.

Where they belong, he thinks.

"They are… they are my… consorts," he tries, eying the pair of them, and Amaryllis raises an eyebrow with a wide grin. Damien flushes dark, which- is interesting. Worth revisiting at a later time. They do not seem… bothered, that he would claim them as his, however, so he exhales slowly and turns his gaze back towards the assembled creatures. "They are honored guests, under my protection. It was their efforts which allowed me to return to you as quickly as I have. It was their efforts which allowed me to return to you at all."

He pauses again, and the creatures titter with varying levels of excitement and confusion and enthusiasm, and Arum sticks his snout in the air.

"That will be all, then," he snaps quickly, turning as the Keep dutifully reopens a portal for the three of them. "This has taken rather enough of your time- and mine. This absence will not be repeated. Return to your homes and lives and all will be taken care of henceforth, good day."

Amaryllis and Sir Damien laugh rather enthusiastically in his direction once they are safely hidden within the Keep again. Arum attempts to maintain a dignified level of fury, but-

Wretched creatures. Amaryllis snorts into her hand and nearly doubles in half, and Damien makes a noise that approaches a squeak, and Arum cannot help but fall to laughter of his own as he gathers them into his arms.

Amaryllis' expression begins to cloud over with concern partway through dinner, and Arum is wary from the moment he notices the change to the moment when she finally opens her mouth after the meal is done.

"So," she begins, and Arum attempts to stifle his instinct to bolt. "I wanted to… to talk to you about what happens after we leave," she says.

Arum ducks his head slightly, sighing.

"There is no cause for concern, Amaryllis," he murmurs. "I can apply some salves well enough on my own, and obviously you need not fear harm to your species from my hand, either. Provided no knights come traipsing through my swamp, that is," he says, gesturing lazily. "I have no interest whatsoever in returning to the same work that nearly killed me. As far as I am concerned, this war did kill me. I will not be dragged into it again."

Amaryllis winces. Damien's lips press tight together, and he squeezes Amaryllis' hand for a moment before she releases her grip on him, and shifts closer to Arum's seat instead. "That- that's kind of exactly what I wanted to talk about. Arum, I… I need you to tell me you're going to take care of yourself. That you're not-"

"I said, not moments ago, that I am perfectly capable of-"

"Not the injuries, Arum," she says quickly, and he pauses, narrowing his eyes. "I need to know that- that you're not going to hurt yourself if we're not here with you," she manages, and Arum feels his breath go shallow.

"Amaryllis," he says. "Don't- don't be ridiculous."

"I'm not," she says. "I'm worried about you."

"Absurd," he hisses, looking away. "I am home, entirely thanks to the pair of you. I should be the one worrying over you, going back into the wilds. I could not possibly be safer."

"From yourself?" Amaryllis says, her brow furrowed with worry. "Look, I- I know this is uncomfortable, Arum, but- but I know that you've tried to get Damien to- to-"

"What? Wh-what did you tell her?" Arum says, turning towards Damien, and he means to snap but his tone sounds more hurt than furious. Damien only sits, his hands clasped in his lap, his lips pressed tight together. "What did you say, knight?"

"He didn't tell me anything, Arum." She shakes her head, angling her body a bit more between them, leaning closer. "Nothing specific, at least, but I'm not stupid. I heard you goading him plenty of times, and he said you told him about your- your work before we left, and he said that if he killed you then, it wouldn't have been a slaying and really there's only one way to interpret that evidence-" she pauses, cringes, bites her lip. "You tried to get Damien to kill you."

Arum freezes, his mouth going dry.

"I don't know if it was because of guilt or- or depression or panic about the trip or what, but- but I already told you, Arum. I didn't put in all this hard work just for you to die. Just for you to throw all of it away-"

"I am home, Amaryllis," he manages in a whisper. "You brought me home. There will certainly be no reason for me to- to endanger myself now."

"No?" she says weakly. "There wasn't any reason for you to try to goad Damien into killing you back in the hut, either, Arum, but you did it anyway."

"I-" Arum glances away again, his hand flexing, but she reaches out and takes one of his hands, squeezing tight. His eyes flick to Sir Damien, sitting quiet though his worried eyes are fixed on the pair of them. "I- that was- different-"

"Different how, Arum?"

"I did not want you to endanger yourself for me, Amaryllis," he hisses, turning towards her with his tail thrashing. "You- you make the world less cruel, by your actions, your choices, your existence. The both of you. You try, if nothing else, and for you to leap to action and danger for my sake is- was-"

She stares up into his eyes, her hand clasped tight around his wrist, and he clenches his teeth and pretends that his throat is not aching.

"If helping me destroyed you, it would be the worst of cruelties I have inflicted upon this world. And I, Amaryllis, have inflicted more than my share of cruelties already."

"So you try to take yourself out of the picture instead? Arum-"

"The little knight did not bite when provoked regardless, so I hardly see how it matters," Arum growls, and in his periphery he sees Damien flinch, his head ducking.

Amaryllis' grip on his wrist tightens. "You do know that's not comforting, right? It matters because I- because we love you, and because if you die, Arum, you'll be dead. Even if you were trying to protect us in some roundabout way-"

Arum flinches, and she pauses, pressing her lips together for a moment as she visibly chooses a different phrasing.

"If you had managed to convince Damien to do it, it'd be cruel, first of all. He doesn't deserve that kind of guilt weighing on him. And second, again, you would be dead, Arum. You implied that you and the Keep exist in a symbiosis- what good would you be to it if-"

"Another would come after me," Arum hisses. "I am not the first, and I will not be the last. The Keep will always have a familiar, no matter my own mortal status."

"That-" Amaryllis makes a noise, small and uncertain. "I- okay. Okay, explain that. If you dropped dead right now, would the Keep just- generate a new familiar instantly? Would I be talking to your replacement in a minute flat?"

Arum flicks his eyes away again. "No. Don't be foolish, it doesn't work like that."

"Explain it to me, then," Amaryllis repeats. "Of course I don't know how it works, Arum. So explain to me why you would think that your death would be in any way an acceptable option."

"It- another familiar would be created, yes. They would require- time to grow, however. The Keep nurtures us from infancy. It would have a hatchling-"

"So," she says calmly, "obviously this is the preferred option. You can protect your home better than an infant could."

"But-"

"Would the Keep want you to die?"

Arum flinches again, twisting his body away from Amaryllis though he still will not pull his wrist from her grasp. The Keep gives a sharp, swift reply of its own, near discordant in its vehemence, and Arum ducks his head with a hiss. "N-no."

"I can tell you love the Keep, Arum," she says, more quietly. "I have to imagine that it loves you too."

"It-" Arum inhales, sharp and panicked, then exhales something like a laugh. "I-"

The Keep trills again, and then it reaches with gentle vines to grip a wrist on his other side, echoing the way Amaryllis is holding him. The contact is too gentle, and the feeling of the Keep's affection in his mind is too raw, too close, after so long missing the feeling. He closes his eyes, clenches his teeth together, and pretends not to feel his eyes heating, his throat constricting.

"Yes," he says in a whisper so low he is not confident that Amaryllis' ears will be able to discern it. "Yes, my Keep loves me." He swallows, then lifts another hand to grip the vine the Keep is holding him with. "It loves me," he repeats, a little more steadily, and if he refuses to open his eyes, then perhaps he need not acknowledge the wetness on his cheeks at all. "The Keep loves me, just as I love it."

Amaryllis makes a soft sort of noise, and Arum feels her hand- feels her thumb on his cheek, feels her gentle away the evidence of his ridiculous surplus of emotion. He waits until her hand retreats, and then he opens his eyes again with a sigh.

"You can protect the Keep and care about yourself too, Arum," she says quietly, and her own eyes are bright. "I just- I need to know you're going to be safe. I can't just leave, not knowing if I'm going to see you again-"

"If we are going to see you again," Damien adds gently, moving closer at last, arranging himself behind Amaryllis and reaching to brush his fingers down Arum's arm. "I know, Arum, that it is not so easy as to simply decide that the demons of one's own mind are conquered. It is not a matter of willpower alone- that is why we wish to speak of it."

"We want to help," Amaryllis says, her voice wobbling very slightly. "We want to understand what you're feeling, and we want you to know that we're here, and we care about you, and you matter to us. Even when we leave, even when we're away from you- you matter to us and it's important to us that you know that you matter, that you're not- you're not replaceable. Not to us."

Arum attempts to ignore the way his heart is racing, the way his eyes still feel too hot, and he finds himself failing when the Keep hums, vines embracing him as it echoes the sentiment firmly.

"I- I have- surely you understand that I have precisely zero intention of harming myself," he breathes, quick and harsh. "I do not want to die-"

It is only that sometimes, in the past, when he was exhausted past his means or when the creeping gray of his mind clouded him… it would have been so much easier. Only the Keep would mourn, and soon enough even it would be drawn past that grief by his replacement. Arum very rarely considered those thoughts, outside of those moments of darkness.

They are watching him, watching whatever must be playing out in his expression, patient and fond and worried, and Arum exhales very slowly.

"I do not want to die," he repeats, his voice coming steadier. "I… I can understand…" he sighs, ducking his head. "It is not unreasonable for you to… to concern yourselves. But I have been- I have been speaking with my Keep, since my return, and- and we will not be parted again, least of all by my own hand. I meant what I said, this afternoon, when I spoke to my subjects. If nothing else, my recent proximity to death has given me a rather jarring dose of perspective. I wish to live, to protect my home, to-"

Arum snaps his teeth together, stifling the words that wish to come next, but then-

His shoulders relax, and he allows a smile to curl his mouth. He need not hide such words. Not anymore.

"I wish to live," he repeats. "I refuse to die before I have loved the both of you as well as you deserve, and I imagine that will take rather a long time."

"Oh," Damien breathes, clinging to Amaryllis as she gives a watery sort of smile. "Oh, Arum- oh, my lily-"

Arum's breath catches, and Damien freezes, his jaw snapping shut in obvious mortification.

"Er- rather, that is- that was- rather presumptuous of me, of course-"

Arum presses forward, draping himself over Amaryllis as she yelps and cackles a laugh, pressing her back so that she and Damien both are trapped between Arum's chest and the cushions below, and then he nuzzles Amaryllis' neck, nuzzles past to press his snout into Damien's ear, nipping gently as he crowds closer, closer, warm and safe as he remembers again that they will not push him away, they will not scorn him.

By all the incomprehensibility of the Universe, they will claim him.

"My honeysuckle," he hisses into the crook of Damien's neck, and Damien gasps. "Mine- my love-"

It is wild, it is absurd, maddening, the things he is allowed- what they allow him-

Amaryllis laughs even harder, her hair falling into her face as she unconvincingly pushes at his shoulders. "You- you are such a-"

"I love you, my Amaryllis," he growls, and his heart swells as her breath catches too.

They have given him so, so much. They have given him everything.

He knows precisely the gift he intends to give them in return.\

The next morning dawns bittersweet, though the resplendent peach-and-gold of the sunrise does not appear to have been informed. The light pours warm through the portal when the Keep pulls it open to the very edge of the swamp, and Arum does not know how, precisely, to feel as he watches Amaryllis' posture stiffen and Damien's shoulders sag, when the reality of the parting strikes the three of them in the same moment.

The Keep presses wrapped packages into the humans's hands, bundles of supplies that should more than keep them fed until they reach some semblance of human civilization again. Arum suspects, but has not pried such to confirm, that the Keep has also stealthily added in portions of sweets, as well as other small gifts and trinkets, possibly some bunches of local herbs that it observed Amaryllis taking a particular interest in.

They tuck the new gifts into their packs, and Damien presses his lips together tight, flicking his eyes to draw down Arum's face, rather obviously committing his sight to memory.

"I don't…" Amaryllis sighs, and he and Damien turn their attention towards her. "I don't know how long it'll be before we can manage another trip like this," she says, frowning, and Damien presses a hand to her shoulder, his own expression going mournful.

Arum forces his expression flat, burying his nerves and his hope both. "It may not be so difficult as you think, to see each other again."

He's gratified when Amaryllis' eyes dart to him, surprise and skepticism on her raised brows.

"You better not be threatening what I think you are," she warns. "Magic healing or no, I do not wanna find out that you decided to take a big solo trip so soon after recovering, even if it means we get to-"

"I do not intend any such thing," he says mildly, suppressing the urge to grin, and he nudges the Keep in his mind to fetch his surprise. "Do you… trust me, Amaryllis?"

"Stupid question, Arum."

"Even if what I tell you will sound impossible?"

"Most of what you say sounds impossible," she hedges, narrowing her eyes.

"We love you," Damien says, a little tearfully, and Arum struggles to maintain his composure as the poet takes his hand, lifting it to press a kiss to his knuckles. "Of course we trust you."

Arum squeezes Damien's hand, and he knows his voice will tremble if he attempts to answer that, so he simply nods before he tugs Damien's hand to his own mouth to echo the gesture as Amaryllis rolls her eyes at the both of them.

"Good," he says eventually, when he knows his voice will come steady. "Good. Then- I have something for you."

"A present?" Damien smiles. "Oh, Arum-"

"I suppose you could call it that," Arum rumbles, looking away for a moment as the Keep deposits the bundle into his free arms. "Though, it is a rather self-serving gift, if anything," he adds in a murmur. "Here."

He hands Amaryllis the linen-wrapped ball of roots and soil, watching as she carefully cradles it, her eyes bright as she tilts her head to better see the dark brown sapling with the shining green and purple leaves sprouting small and fragile from the bundle.

"Arum, what-"

"Trust me," he says, and she shoots him a look, scowling though he knows- he knows that she will bury her curiosity for his sake. It will be worth it, he thinks, for the surprise. "Bring the plant home with you. Ensure that the soil is not lost- it is just as important as the flora itself. Place it somewhere it will be safe-" he pauses, breathes a laugh. "Perhaps you could find some room beside the Jungle Flame, out of sight of the kitchen window. If you can bear to clear the stack of notes cluttering the corner there-"

"Watch it," Amaryllis grumbles, and Arum laughs again.

"Give it a home," he says quietly. "Mix the soil provided with some from your own garden. Not too much- no more than half again. It will bloom quickly, when it is settled, and when it does-"

She tilts her head, calculation in her eyes as she commits his instruction to memory.

"When it does," he murmurs, "if you wish to see me again, all you need do is ask."

"If," Amaryllis snorts, and Arum ducks his head. "Yeah, dummy, if we wanna see you again- Saints you're ridiculous-"

"Oh, Arum," Damien murmurs, and then he- goes up on his toes and flings his arms around Arum's shoulders, embracing him tightly and pressing his face against Arum's neck. "Oh, I can safely assure you that my heart will ache with your absence the very moment we are parted, oh my lily-"

Arum returns the embrace, squeezing tight and lifting Damien fully off the ground, though he growls and glares at Amaryllis over the knight's shoulder. "And you call me ridiculous."

"You both are," she says, utterly fond. "I've got a type."

Arum laughs, and clings more tightly, and when Amaryllis steps close enough to grip his arm and kiss his cheek, it takes more strength than Arum knew he possessed to release the both of them from his grasp.

He does let them go, eventually, murmuring his affection close against their skin until they can no longer justify delay. He watches them leave, smiling despite the ache in his heart, despite the utter strangeness of being parted, at last, after so long beside them. He smiles, willing the Universe to grant them swiftness and safety.

The sooner they are home, the sooner he will see them again.

[->]

#elle's fanfic #the penumbra podcast #second citadel #rad bouquet #scattered on my shore #lord arum #sir damien #amaryllis of exile #the keep #aaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

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