Tumgik
#tastes like gotham and sin fic
ladtheove · 2 years
Text
Fast drawing for mi one shot. I’m absolutely unsatisfied with this, but unwilling to work more on it. So there it is.
Vampire Damian and Jason.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
89 notes · View notes
goldingwrites · 2 years
Text
after hours (chapter one)
Tumblr media
⯈ pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x female!reader
⯈ summary: the nights in Gotham are always unforgiving, you, you strip for money, to feed your son and to forget some of your troubles. it's easy, it's simple until Vengeance appears in your night.
⯈ rating: mature (for the entire work, there will be smut people), teen for the first chapters.
⯈ tw: stripping, violence, mentions of physical abuse
⯈ word count: 3k
⯈ NOTE: the reader is a mother, I really wanted to explore that dynamic, this is my first imagine fic, I've been obsessed with this version of Batman since I saw the movie, there will be more to the story. Let me know if you want to be tagged.
You dance.
It has been a full year since the flood and you are pretty sure it's raining outside tonight, but you don't care about that right now. You dance, you move your hips, your twirl, and you parade, on display on the pole and there is even a smile on your face. Because for all of those prying and hungry eyes, you're a fucking trophy, you're dessert and all they can do is stare and let their eyes wander and hope they can reach you.
Stripping is not as degrading as some make it sound. You do in fact love it, especially at moments like this, on nights like this, you have been moving for hours and your skin is glistening with your own sweat, perfume, and body glitter. Your outfit is shiny and revealing, all fake diamonds and strass and it is not hiding much. It is not hiding anything in fact and it highlights the best about you, your breasts, your long leg, your hips, your ass... it matches the blond platinum wig hiding your hair and just like that, it's easy to forget you had a kid way too soon, easy to forget that you hate how you look in broad daylight.
Nights in Gotham are easy you think, everyone drops the mask, people go for what they really want, they live, they sin and they move on. It's honest in a way, everyone's true self seems to come out and you'd be lying if you said you didn't love what you are doing right now.
The track changes and if you're supposed to notice that, you don't, you do however notice the commotion near the entrance. It's probably someone big coming in, someone with a lot of money, making this entire night worth the wait.
You wait with a heavy heart, eyes glued to the crowd as you dance slowly, to the new rhythm of the song.
You stop moving altogether when He appears in the club.
It's him, Vengeance, and hopes all wrapped in a suit, with that symbol on his chest, it's The Batman. You're not the only one to freeze, his entrance has everyone tensing up and he parts the crowd easily, he's all broad shoulders and darkness and you can't believe you're seeing him that close.
You live here, you watch the news, you have a son who loves to tell you all about the bat's latest exploits and how he is actually helping those in need.
It's one thing, it's another thing when he is so close.
It does matter, you realize as the vigilante is headed for the bar. It shouldn't matter, it's just another night, to do what you the best...
Except that when you start moving again, you clearly see the bartender pointing you on stage and then he turns to you. The club might be crowded, it might be half-darkness in here, but it's another fucking thing when darkness itself stares at you.
You can't make up the expression from so far away, but the bat is here for you. You swallow hard, your mouth is too dry for your own taste and you use the rest of the song to think about something you did wrong. Your days are so fucking boring, school drops, house cleaning, that stupid day job at the deli, back to school and then you ignore the look your own mother gives you as you get ready for work and she watches over the most important thing in your life. She judges you hard but she doesn't say anything if the bills are paid, if there is food on a table, it's a good life you decide and she doesn't get to judge.
The song ends and you don't even pretend, you gather your tips in a hurry, the stage is basically littered with dollar bills, and quickly, too expertly you grab as much as you can and you step off the stage. The bills are flattened quickly in your hands and folded and then tucked away in your cleavage and on your hips. You walk away, heading for the staff room.
You still have to go through a long corridor, in front of the private rooms and when you look over your shoulders, you can see him. He is following you and it shouldn't feel like that, there is a knot in your stomach knowing the Batman is here for you and you're not sure it's fear.
Still, you pretend you didn't see and you keep walking. At the end of the hallway, he gets closer, his boots are loud and you wonder if it's on purpose, to warn you he is close.
Probably, finally, a strong grip on your shoulders and you turn around willingly, following his movement.
You're staring into black eyes for a moment, maybe it’s a trick of the mind but you gasp slightly and take a step back, he takes a step closer, and it's easy to see every detail of his suit, the leather, the armor, but you focus on his strong jaw, looking up as he is taller than you.
"I'm not here to hurt you," he starts slowly, not touching you anymore, and his voice all low and deep. How does he do that? You have no idea but you can tell just like that, that he is not lying to you. "And you're not in trouble either," he adds as quickly and he gets a reaction from you.
You fold your arms on your barely covered chest, daring, one eyebrow raised. "Something tells me you're being generous... and that you want something..."
You watch as his jaw tightens and his eyes remain on you, he probably expected you to be afraid or mortified. No, he doesn't scare you, you've seen some monsters in your days and he isn't one of them, monsters don't wear masks from your experience, they like to be known, like to torment in broad daylight.
"You have information that I need... Information about a case."
"And I'm on shift, if my boss sees me chatting up with a customer, you of all people, instead of doing my job, I might not be able to come here tomorrow."
".... what are you suggesting?" His voice goes impossibly deep, he knows the answer, knows what you're about to suggest, world's smartest detective, of course, he can figure it out.
You smile, you don't know why, but you smile, taking a step in his direction, another one, only stopping when your face is only a few inches from his. His jaw is so pale you notice, you wonder if likes you, he prefers nights so much that it actually shows, physically. Probably, he's the bat after all.
"Oh big boy, I think you can figure it out..."
***
He does figure it out and you are not even surprised when after telling him how much a private dance costs, he produces cash from out of nowhere and gives you the exact amount.
Of course, Batman is a rich asshole, you should have figured it out.
You count the money regardless and you can swear you can see him make a face when you do but finally, you make it in the small and private room.
He remains standing up while you set up everything and as a new song starts, you chose one of your favorites, he still hasn't moved and he is still staring.
You sigh, feeling brave and you push him towards the couch. Maybe he decides that he finally belongs there but finally... The Batman is sitting on a bright purple velvet couch and he looks so out of place, you can't help but smile.
The new dance stars and you put your heart into it, you twirl and hoist yourself off the ground like you've done a million times, and ... he is looking at you. You can tell, you can tell the bat is not missing a single one of your movements and he does react to them. It's subtle, his jaw tightens, he bits his lower lip and you want to push him. Has anyone ever pushed him? You doubt it, probably in another sense, probably to kill him, but suddenly, you want him to remember this night.
Your heels are back on the ground and slowly your find your way onto his lap. You kneel in front of him and you part his knees with your hands, still carefully as if he were about to break, finding your place in the space you just created.
"You say you wanted information?"
You ask the question as innocently as possible and you swear you can see his eyes widen, it's brief, the reaction goes as fast as it was there, and finally, he talks. Talks about some drugs dealers he needs to track down, he talks in that low voice of his, and if you do listen you still move.
You stand up and finally you straddle him like you would any other client, his eyes do not wander this time, they remain glued to your face and you ask him to describe who he is looking for as your hands fall on his shoulders. He is strong, you can tell, he could break you in half with only one of his hands, just like that, but you're not scared. The Batman is going to remember this you have already decided, and he is going to remember you.
You use the grip you have on his shoulders to move again, this time grinding your hips and twisting your body up and down, as if you were riding him as if this was another type of dance.
"They say he is one of your regulars," he growls and you nod yes, keeping your movements fluid and in tune with the music. You close the gap between your two bodies by the second and finally, your brush against him, against the hard line of the suit and you don't get a second chance.
No, strong, leather hands are on your hips, stopping you, maintaining you away from the masked man.
"Is he?"
"You're all business, aren't you?"
You sigh, you try to move, the grip tightens, it sends a shiver down your spine, the fact that he can just hold you there and make you do whatever he wants, and after a moment, you answer. You give him details that you have gathered, a few aliases, and when they are most likely to visit. You know what happens to girls who talk but you also know lying to the bat could be worse.
It's a middle of the night, why not take a risk?
"Thank you," he mumbles and suddenly he stands up. He has the decency to put you down on the couch first and just like that...
He's gone, just like that, you are alone in the night again.
***
You don't see the bat and his massive silhouette for another full week. You do look for him in the crowd, every night, every time the crowd moves, every time someone new orders a stiff drink at the bar but nothing.
Maybe you're just a fool and he won't show up.
But he does, after seven nights, you finally spot him again. Not at the club but by the staff entrance, you're not in full attire, not yet, you're having a quick smoke before the madness, you're still in jeans and just a black tank top despite the cold air of the Gotham night. You're not wearing make-up either, no armor yet, it's just you filling your lungs with the bad stuff and you are staring at the top of your heels when you see something move at the corner of your eyes, in the shadow of the alley.
It's stupid but you do smile when you see him, slightly, clearly amused and the vigilante nods as if to say hello. He's got more manners this time, it's certain.
"Let me guess," You start slowly. "This is not a social call."
"You mentioned that someone I am looking for will be in tonight. I need to ask him a few questions," reveals the bat. There is a good meter between the two of you but you can tell you have his attention, he follows your move as you get rid of your cigarette, smashing it underneath your shoes and you nod in understanding.
"Not sure he is willing to cooperate but I guess you do have your methods, right?"
Silence follows, he doesn't confirm that violence is sometimes the answer, you are not surprised at all, you wish you could say you are new to this and that this guy, didn't deserve it but ... its too much of a beautiful night to lie.
"So what's the plan batsy? I dance, you hide in the back? You're good in the shadows, right?"
"... would you be okay with that?"
He asks for your permission you realize a second too late, the Batman, Gotham's hope is asking for your permission, he offers you the possibility to say no because it's putting you at risk and if you consider all the scenarios in your head quickly, you still feel safe. Underneath that intense gaze.
"Find a way inside, he likes room number 3, make sure no one sees you."
That's all you give him before disappearing inside.
***
It takes you 20 minutes to get ready, Mila, your client, and the target likes it when you're wearing pink, so everything in your ensemble to your wig is bright neon pink and you are even chewing gum when you meet Mila's gaze.
"Ah my darling look at you, you look dazzling!"
He plants a kiss on your forehead, that's his style, he is older and you know he is a dad in another life, he already reaks of vodka, and the smile on his face means he will tip well.
"Well you know me, shall we?"
Mila smiles, you still chew as you lead the way, with confidence and expertise like you've done a million times. You reach the private room and you do your best not to look for him, the room is still in semi-darkness and soon enough, Mila is here, he wants you to dance and he places a few under dollar bills in your cleavage and you still smile, starting the music. It’s easy to do, it's easy to dance, even knowing what's coming even when the storm is not so far.
It is a quiet storm at first, Mila is smoking a big fat cigar, drink in hand as you dance for him and you spot the bat from the corner of your eyes. Slowly oh so slowly, he creeps out of the shadow, eyes on you, he nods in your direction and you know it's time to step away.
You know even more when Mila winces, yells for you to come closer and his tone changes when he sees the Batman, it’s dizzy and messy next, he tries to flee but strong hands hold him in place, he tries to grab your ankle but that earns him a punch from Vengeance itself and you're pretty sure Mila's jaw is broken.
That knocks him almost unconscious in that lapse of time, the bat turns to you, whispers a "wait five minutes, and then get out of here screaming loud enough to alert security, understood?"
You nod in return and you watch fascinated as he basically pulls Mila up on his two feet, slams him against the nearest wall, and asks questions. The Bat wants names, he wants answers and suddenly that all-powerful man is nothing but whines, tears, blood and he gives up information. He gives up names like a fool and you can't help but smile.
You smile and you catch the Batman looking at you and you realize that it's been five minutes.
Oh yes, the screaming, you comply but you are fighting down the urge to smile the entire time.
***
They think they chase him away but from your perspective, the bat got exactly what he wanted and you pretend for the next hour. You pretend as your colleagues check up on you and you accept the drinks and the words of reassurance.
It's a few hours before you can step outside and go home, with everything calling it an early night might be a good idea and you shove all of your belongings, including your pink wig inside your bag and you head out. It's slightly raining, not surprising for the season and you shrug it off, despite your thin jacket and you look for a cab.
"I didn't thank you."
This time, he manages to surprise you, because you were not expecting him, because how the fuck he manages to be so quiet with those boots and you almost drop your bag and miss a step when he appears in your line of vision.
"Jesus!" You take a deep breath. "Maybe warn a girl first okay?" Another deep breath, you tuck one strand of hair behind your ear and you nod. The rain doesn't seem to affect him. He's so tall and large and it's easy to think something as trivial as water doesn't get to him.
"And no need..." You finish quickly.
"It did cost you a night of work, so there."
He hands you something, the Batman is handing you something and if you grab it quickly, you frown when you realize it's an envelope full of money.
"What the fuck? Are you for real?
"It should be e..."
Fuck him, fuck this night.
You shove the money back at him, more than that, you throw the envelope to his face, and dollars bills suddenly fly everywhere, dancing in the way and masking for a moment the angry look on your face. Does he think that you did it for the money? That he is the only one that wants to see one less drug dealer in the street of the city?
"Fuck. You."
You tremble as you say those two words and you're the one fleeing away this time.
****
993 notes · View notes
sasheneskywalker · 4 months
Text
batfamily fic recs where someone from the batfamily kills a person (or jason kills the joker)
bury the dead where they're found by withthekeyisking Dick's little brother is dead, and he can't stop thinking about all the other people who have died because of the psychopaths that run rampant in Gotham. Can't stop thinking about how many more will die in the future. Can't help but remember that quote: If there's something wrong, those who have the ability to take action have the responsibility to take action.
AKA the Joker kills Jason Todd, and Dick isn't going to let that slide.
T | No Archive Warnings Apply | Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson/Koriand'r
Swimming in a Sea of Expectations by withthekeyisking Dick looks down at his blood-covered gloves and has no idea what to do now.
M | Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson
zero at the bone by Anonymous Dick has killed thirteen people by the time he calls Jason.
M | Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Dick Grayson/Jason Todd
lonely town by TheResurrectionist Bruce doesn’t kill the Joker.
But that was Dick’s little brother, damn it.
Not Rated | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne
World Gone MAD by Havendance Ask the GCPD about the Joker’s death, and they’ll tell you he died of natural causes. Ask the Justice League, and they’ll tell you that it’s a matter that’s been resolved internally. Ask Batman and he won’t give you an answer, because he’s Batman. The truth of the matter, however, is this: Dick Grayson beat the Joker to death.
[Or: A few months after the death of the Joker, Tim Drake comes to Haly’s Circus, looking for Dick Grayson.]
G | No Archive Warnings Apply | Tim Drake & Dick Grayson
so, you've killed the joker by stupidandsad Jason’s mouth is dry and his blood just starting to clot when he shoots the Joker in the head.
The Joker’s neck whips back, and before it can right itself, Jason shoots the Joker in the head again.
OR
Jason kills the Joker, and everything that comes next.
T | Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Cassandra Cain & Jason Todd
Living is Harder by Sohotthateveryonedied Tim drops the knife like it’s white-hot. Oh, god. Oh, god.
Tim did this. He was…he didn’t mean it. He didn’t. He would never. But the man was on top of him and Tim couldn’t breathe, and…he didn’t mean it.
T | No Archive Warnings Apply | Tim Drake & Jason Todd
Sins of the Brother by Myrime “Do you have a death wish, Replacement?” Red Hood asks him as he advances on the rooftop.
All Tim knows is that he cannot go home and that he’d rather deal with torture at Red Hood’s hands than to face Bruce and be thrown out of his home.
“I killed someone.”
T | No Archive Warnings Apply | Tim Drake & Jason Todd
with crimson hands by envysparkler It was always quieter on a new moon night. Jason knows to expect the lingering fog of death. But he’s definitely surprised by where it comes from.
M | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Tim Drake & Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne
Watch Me Fall by Nanimok After an encounter leaves Tim reeling, he begins to question about what it means to be a hero and what it takes to protect the people of Gotham.
Slowly, Tim understands Jason a little better.
M | No Archive Warnings Apply | Tim Drake/Jason Todd
dirty work by Goldmonger The man holding Damian flexed, and the boy made a noise Alfred had never heard from him before. He was gasping, his congested lungs making him hack, making him whimper against his will. His eyes were streaming. Master Damian’s eyes. Master Damian, who never cried.
*
There's no such thing as murder in war. Alfred learned that a long time ago.
T | Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Alfred Pennyworth & Everyone, Alfred Pennyworth & Jason Todd
Too Much Fucking Salt by pez_the_platypus A rural housewife instinctively understood the law of quantity into quality. Add a pinch of salt to a soup and it tasted better; add one pinch too many and you ruined the batch. Jason had been in limbo for a year and a half, trusting things would get better even though everything just seemed to be getting worse. It was something small that set him off, but really, it was an accumulation of a lot of things that led to this. He was going to kill the Joker.
M | Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death | Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Roy Harper & Jason Todd, Batfamily Members & Jason Todd, Joker (DCU) & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Roy Harper, Gotham City & Jason Todd
15 notes · View notes
devilfic · 2 years
Note
Hey its me again!!! I read your dm but for some reason i cant reply?? Like, i wrote and clicked the send button but my message just... disappeared??? Tumblr is so weird so uhhh im just gonna reply through here, if you dont mind!!!
First of all, you're welcome!!! Like i said in my previous ask, i have a very specific taste in fanfics so when i finally do find the stuff i like (which is rare), i always try to express how much i love it!! Because im just so thankful to have it!!! Also because i cant keep this giddy feeling to myself!!! Other than that, im also aware of how much these comments affect writers so yeah, its a win-win situation!!!
Anyway, you've been writing for 13 years?!?!?!?! Thats.... thats a really long time... no wonder you're so great!!! You've written for longer than my nephew has been living lol!!
Oh and im not sure if you've seen that i love that riddler fic too, but i just wanna say again that its just SO GOOD. Here's some of my fav parts that i forgot to put in my reblog tag!!
[You’ve acquired a shadow. He had stomped out the one you were born with and fit himself into its place.]
[You imagined what it would have been like to be Commissioner Savage in that rat trap, the agony of a thousand teeth tearing into the veins of your throat, all while this voice read you your sins.]
[“Have you given up on salvation already, detective? And after all our progress! Why, it’d be a shame if you accepted defeat so soon.” 
The mocking lilt to his voice does irk you a bit. “What do you expect me to do, exactly?”
“Lie.”
“He’s too smart for that.”
“Lie better. Isn’t that what your precious Lieutenant taught you to do before I dropped him in the harbor?”]
I just love how in the movie, the riddler's whole deal is like 'no more lies' but then in your fic he encourages reader to lie so like hfdsjgfsjh idk my brain loves it a lot!!! I thought eddie munson is the only one that can be on my mind right now, but you brought back my feelings for riddler and now i just dont know what to do with myself.... ugh... sorry this ask is getting very long... well then, here's an actual question: what is your process of writing?? like how does it usually go?? okay thats it, love you!!!
OOPS that’s my bad. I had dms turned off for blogs I don’t follow but I thought that got negated if I messaged the other blog first, sorry!! and that’s so very sweet of you!! I know some readers are a bit shy about commenting but yeah, it’s great to see. also oh boy, that makes me feel so old LMAO but yeah, it’s been quite a while. thank you ;-;
ALSO YES!! I’m happy you picked up on the way he switched up about lies. I really liked the idea of edward trying to do things differently, realizing he cannot necessarily purge the evil in gotham, but he can try to use it for his own benefit. he’s got this weird obsession with the reader’s guilt and sees himself as less of a executioner and more of a savior this time around. if I were to continue it, I probably would have talked more about the lore behind it but I had the idea that edward uses the reader as his sword in a way? and tries to prove to them that he’s right about the way he goes about punishing people.
and that’s a good question 🤔 I’ve had a habit of writing my stories chronologically. I start with an idea, then I try to find a good beginning and end, and then feel out if I can write a good middle. I never do outlines unless I have a lot of ideas or I’m planning on writing more parts.
then I just sit down and literally write everything from the title to the ending in order akdhsks (of course editing comes into play later, and I end up changing things, but I like being able to follow the story from start to finish). I’ve never been a… scene by scene person sndhsjs
0 notes
gotthesilver · 3 years
Text
2020 fic round up!
Now that the last of the exchange fics have been revealed, it’s time for a round up. Which I haven’t actually done in years, but lets face it, I have more time on my hands this year because of Reasons so why not? We are gonna do this chronologically because organising by fandom just seems like work.
Put the Past Away, MCU, Steve/Tony, Teen, 3.4k. another post infinity war/pre-endgame canon divergence get together because I like writing those a lot.
Forever for You, part of the Fireside verse, MCU, Steve/Tony, Teen, 3.9k. a little addition to my Fireside series, the last part of which I will hopefully get finished this year!
Such a Softer Sin, MCU, Steve/Tony, Explicit, 2.2k. a fic written for the smol steve bingo over at the pots server, square: small steve, big dick. which sums up this fic.
Alone Like This, MCU, Steve/Tony, Teen, 7.4k. written for the @cap-ironman fanwork like it’s 2012 fest! canon divergent where steve and tony meet post iron man 2, pre avengers and it goes a lot better.
Got the Love I Need, MCU, Steve/Tony, Explicit, 2.4k. virgin steve is like super desperate to get laid. that’s it.
Through Each Other’s Eyes, Marvel 3490, Steve Rogers/Natasha Stark, Teen, 1k. written for the @cap-ironman tiny reverse bang! steve rogers is embarrassingly in love with his wife. like so much.
Glide Me Towards You, MCU, Steve/Tony, Mature, 6.7k. written for one of @crownofstardustandbone‘s many prompts! canon divergent post endgame old men in love trying to figure out what comes next.
A Little Is Never Enough, MCU, Steve/Tony, Explicit, 3.4k. written for h/c bingo, square: corporal punishment. this is spanking fic, you probably know if you want to read it or not.
Souvenirs and Secrets Shared, MCU, Steve/Tony, Mature, 1.4k. written for the twink tony bingo over at pots, square: lingerie. steve stumbles across some old photos of tony in lingerie.
Wounds Without a Bandage, MCU, Steve/Tony, Teen, 2.5k. written for the twink tony bingo at pots as well, square: whump. also for h/c bingo, square: fighting. au where steve was found and defrosted post howard & maria’s death and has been in tony’s life since then.
Sins Born In a Kiss, MCU, Steve/Tony, Explicit, 3.5k. also written for the twink tony bingo at pots, square: de-aged. tony gets physically de-aged and steve wants to tap that virgin ass.
Your Loss and Your Sorrow, Gone Girl, Margo Dunne & Nick Dunne, Teen, 1k. written for trick or treat. post movie through margo’s eyes.
Salvation In Dreams, MCU, Steve/Tony, Mature, 1.1k. a fill for h/c bingo: gags. tony gets kidnapped.
Love Like a Hunger, MCU, Steve/Tony, Explicit, 1.5k. based on @firulaispng‘s tony as leia art! steve rails tony while tony is in a leia outfit, that’s it.
Hopeless But Still Romantic, Birds of Prey, Harley/Dinah, Teen, 2.5k. written for shipoween! post movie get together for harley & dinah, with some complications along the way because gotham, right?
Taste of Love, MCU, Steve/Pepper/Tony, Explicit, 1.4k. written for shipoween as well! it’s porn, that’s about it.
Taken Back By You, MCU, Steve/Tony, Teen, 2.5k. steve is terrified of babies and tony is excellent with kids and steve has Feelings about that.
Grow Up; Turn the Tables, Clueless, Cher/Josh, Mature, 2.1k. written for yuletide! post movie, cher and josh and how they are several years down the line.
Having You Near, Oceans Movies, Danny/Rusty/Tess and Danny + Debbie, Teen, 1.4k. also written for yuletide! a what if danny isn’t dead and debbie found him hiding out with rusty & tess.
No Place to Go, MCU, Steve/Tony, Teen 6.8k. written for the @cap-ironman holiday exchange! post aou canon divergent christmas getting together with all that involves.
Been Alone Here, MCU, Steve/Tony, Teen, 4.5k. also written for the holiday exchange! modern au, no powers. getting back together post addiction and recovery, a little drop of hope in a difficult process.
and that’s it for 2020 fic! to no one’s surprise I posted a lot of stony. also having made this post I remember why I stopped doing round ups, holy shit that took too long, I hope someone appreciates it.
129 notes · View notes
macbetha · 3 years
Text
Tumblr media
So very excited to share this! It’s a playlist for my upcoming Free! fic, This Heart of Mine, the rewritten sequel to Eyes Wide Open All the Time. You can listen to the playlist on YouTube; this list simply helps define who or what a song represents to me. This list also includes some lyrics that you may want to pay special attention to. I recommend reading the lyrics by themselves before listening to the playlist. Mind you - some of these lyrics only act as symbolism. Some mean more. Some songs have connections. Some don’t. ;) *go girl give us nothing* List below! 
 THIS HEART OF MINE: PLAYLIST GUIDE 
Theme: Bring Me The Horizon feat. Halsey - In The Dark (MTLT / amo version) Oh so tall, it broke the fourth wall Guess our fairytale had a few plot holes Don’t you know you’ve lost control ↳ Honorable Mentions: ✧ grandson - Bury Me Facedown When I go into the ground I won’t go quietly I’m bringing my crown I won’t get tired Set the town on fire Thinking that they’ve won It’s only just begun  ✧ Lorde - Everybody Wants to Rule the World ✧ Ry X - YaYaYa ✧ Rihanna - Goodnight Gotham
CHARACTERS
✦ Haruka ✧ WDL - Monster vs Angel Got my own monster Nobody but me  Got my own angel  I would never call him enemy He’s the good god I need  But both of the sides Fight for me  ✧ Mumford and Sons - Broken Crown I’ll never be your chosen one In this twilight  How dare you speak of grace But in this twilight Our choices seal our fate I’ll crawl on my belly till the sun goes down I’ll never wear your broken crown  ✧ Lia Marie Johnson - DNA Dark as midnight 6 Pack Coors Light You don’t look the same Past my bedtime Blue and red lights come take you away I won’t be like you Fighting back, I’m fighting back the truth Eyes like yours Can’t look away But you can’t stop DNA 
✧ Cat Power - Sea of Love Come with me, my love To the sea, the sea of love ✧ Al Green - Love and Happiness (side note: this if my favorite song of all time) Love and happiness Something that can make you do wrong And make you do right 
✦ Makoto ✧ The Oh Hellos - Soldier, Poet, King There will come a soldier Who carries a mighty sword He will tear your city down Oh ley, oh lei, oh lord ✧ Labrynth - Still Don’t Know My Name I took your heart I did things to you only lovers would only do in the dark I made you a god Priests, popes and preachers would tell me I did wrong ✧ The Civil Wars - Devil’s Backbone Don’t care if he’s guilty Don’t care if he’s not He’s good and he’s bad and he’s all that I got Oh lord, I’m begging you, please Don’t take that sinner from me  ✧ Sleeping At Last - Make You Feel My Love (Cover) I could make you happy Make your dreams come true There’s nothing that I wouldn’t do Go to ends of the earth for you To make you feel my love  ✦ Sousuke ✧ Angel Haze - Detox You dance in a cage with some rats in it I’m about chemistry, you just react to me God might turn us to ash, baby I might just taste your last stars tonight  We were gods in a world that did nothing but doubt us But fuck it, I got us, from the dirt with the flowers Put in work in the shower ✧ Kaleo - No Good  You better start runnin’ When you hear the man coming It won’t do you no good Kiss your baby goodbye Come on love, it’s all right Heaven knows they wanna break you apart  ✧ The Oh Hellos - The Lament of Eustice Scrubb Brother, forgive me We both know I’m the one to blame When I touched the water They told me I could be set free ✦ Rin ✧ Halsey - Young God (Lullaby / Music Box Intro, Live from Webster Hall) Running, running, running And we’ll be running, running, running again ✧ SZA - Good Days Tell me I’m not my fears, my limitations I’ll disappear I gotta keep from losing the rest of me Chasing a fountain of youth that’s in the present I’ll await my armored fate with a smile Still wanna try, I still believe in good days ✧ Lola Blanc - Angry Too Does it get your blood boiling? Does it make you see red? Cause it gets my blood boiling It would eat you like poison if you knew what I knew I don’t wanna drink the venom they made me I don’t wanna be controlled by the past But boy, if you were me Could you really blame me?  ✧ Kendrick Lamar - u And if this bottle could talk: I cry myself to sleep, everything is your fault Because you shook as you knew confinement was needed I know your secrets Don’t let me tell them to world  About the shit you thinking  And the time that you - I’m ‘bout to hurl  I’m fucked up But I ain’t as fucked up as you ✧ Halsey - More Wooden floors, little feet Flower bud, concrete A little screen, a photograph Mine to take I still believe it won’t be like before I’ve loved you for all of my life ✦ Nao ✧ Johnny Hollow - Worse Things Anger grew like ecstasy And Leda threw the swan on me There are worse things, perverse things You should answer when the phone rings There are worse things I could do ✧ Young Heretics - Bones of a Rabbit You play with wolves But you sleep with the bones of the rabbit  You have conquered cities And torched the mighty sea You may keep yourself afloat But you cannot outswim me  ✧ Phantogram - Black Out Days (Future Islands Remix) Hide the sun  I will keep your face out of my mind  I’m hearing voices all the time And they’re not mine  Haunting my mind ✦ Natsuya ✧ Gang of Youths - Achilles, Come Down Remember your virtue  Redemption lies plainly in the truth Where you go, I’m going When you jump, I’m jumping There is no me without you  Today of all days See how the most dangerous thing is love ✧ Florence + The Machine - Cosmic Love The stars, the moon They have all been blown out You left me in the dark ✦ Ikuya ✧ Penelope Scott - Cigarette Ahegao So like, I guess I call it the sophomore slump Always crying and always drunk A few dead, more gone, the rest well on their way Thanks! I hate it Everyone that I love is stuck Because this, that, the other, and the state fucked up We covered it in a class that I’m about to fail  ✧ 100 gecs, Laura Les, Dylan Brady - Money Machine Tell me what's the deal, I've been trying to go to bed I've been up for days, I've been trying to get ahead Said it all before, and I'll say it once again I'm better off alone ✧ Halsey - Clementine  Through a breakdown or a blackout Would you make out with me Cause I don’t need anyone I just need everyone and then some ✦ Hiyori ✧ Florence + The Machine - Seven Devils Holy water cannot help you now A thousand armies couldn’t keep me out I don’t want your money I don’t want your crown See I’ve come to burn your kingdom down ✧ Michael Buble - Feeling Good (Cover) It’s a new life for me This old world is a new world And a bold world for me Freedom is mine And I know how I feel I’m feeling good ✦ Asahi ✧ Sam Henshaw - Broke If I wasn’t broke Would you spend more time with me Like you said you’d do Tell me what I’m supposed to do Cause the only thing I need Is to be loved by you  ✧ Mikky Ekko - Smile Smile, the worst is yet to come We’ll be lucky if we ever see the sun ✦ Aki ✧ Aly & AJ - Church I did bad things, can’t you see it on my face? I get caught in every lie I need redemption for sins I can’t mention For all the things I can’t reverse For all the places where it hurts ✧ ZZ Ward - Ghost Here the devil call out my name I’ve broken promises, burning flame God knows, darling God knows I gave Now the truth cuts like a knife ✦ Nii ✧ Of Mice and Men - My Understandings  Keep in mind that I’m a sore eye With blurry vision  ✧ Neoni - Outlaw They say that I’m wanted Hear the whispers in the street You better start running Cause nothing scares me  Faster, faster You’re the one I’m after  You built a fortress But I’ll never kiss the ring I’m my own king
✦ Gou ✧ Melanie Martinez - Lunchbox Friends We can be friends if you wanna be But only till the clock hits three I don’t want no lunchbox friends, no I want someone that binds the ends, no Come to my house, let’s die together Friendship that will last forever ✧ Maroon 5 - Come to the Water Come away little light Come away to the darkness Away from the life that you always knew Come away little lamb Come away to the water To the arms that are waiting only for you ✦ Isuzu ✧ Jessie Reyez - NO ONE’S IN THE ROOM  Spent my whole life being graded, being told I’m not enough Being told go find the one and sit and wait for death to come I don’t want to I need to talk to God There’s things I just don’t understand Like who am I when no one’s in the room EMI - Bad Friends Yeah, I got some bad friends No you cannot have them If you wanna talk to them  You talk to me, yeah We don’t fuck around with just anybody, yeah
✦ Takuya ✧ Imagine Dragons - Ready, Aim, Fire Off in the distance, there is resistance Bubbling up and festering Here in the casing Shaking and pacing This is the tunnel’s light Blood in the writing, stuck in the fighting Look through the rifle’s sight ✧ Billie Eilish - you should see me in a crown (acapella) Bite my tongue Bide my time Wait till the world is mine, ocean eyes Count my cards Watch them fall  Blood on a marble wall You should see me in a crown I’m gonna run this nothing town Watch me make ‘em bow One by one ✦ Kinjou ✧ Urban Country - Knife and Stone Tell me, have you ever seen a mirror Mirror in the middle of the forest Just waiting for the rain or the crown I’ve been up for thirty days Someone point to lost and found Ain’t no blood in the temple Just a knife and stone
✦ Mikhail ✧ Elsie Lovelock - Friends on the Other Side (Cover) The cards, the cards The cards will tell The past, the present, and the future as well I got voodoo, I got hoodoo I got things I ain’t even tried And I got friends on the other side I hope you’re satisfied, but if you ain’t Don’t blame me You can blame my friends on the other side ✦ Ryuuji ✧ elbow - Grounds for Divorce I’ve been working on a cocktail Called Grounds for Divorce Down comes him on sticks but then he kicks like a horse There's a hole in my neighborhood Down which of late I cannot help but fall ✧ Mumford and Sons - The Enemy I am not the enemy It isn’t me, the enemy I came and I was nothing So why did you choose to lean on A man you knew was falling? ✦ Nadia ✧ Halsey - Castle (Orchestral Version) They wanna make me their queen  There’s an old man  Sitting on the throne  Saying I should probably keep my pretty mouth shut I’m headed straight for the castle
THEMES: GROUPS
✦ FREEBIRD ✧ Kaleo - Way Down We Go Oh father, tell me Do we get what we deserve They will run you down Down till you fall They will run you down Down till you crawl Till you can’t crawl no more And way down we go ✦ ROUGH RABBIT ✧  Imagine Dragons - Who We Are Up on the mountain Down in the king's den  It's who we are Doesn't matter if we've gone too far Doesn't matter if it's not okay Doesn't matter if it's not our day ✦ DIAMONDBACK ✧ Florence + The Machine - Bedroom Hymns This is good a place to fall as any We’ll build our alter here  In the wine, the women, the bedroom hymns Such selfish prayers, I can’t get enough I’m not here looking for absolution Because I’ve found myself an old solution
✦ HONEYBLADE ✧ Megan Thee Stallion and Normani - Diamonds I love me this much My pear-shape all dripped up He want me to be a little more lady-like? Come through with my girls and beat your ass on ladies night ✦ BLOODHOUNDS ✧ Angel Haze - The Wolves Nothing left out there for me  I left my fucking heart out at the sea This shit sounds like the danger zone  I’m the big bad wolf  Gonna take the throne 
THEMES: PAIRINGS 
✦ Makoto + Haruka ✧ Phoebe Bridgers - Smoke Signals One of your eyes is always half shut Something happened when you were a kid I didn’t know you then and I’ll never understand why It feels like I did ✧ Radical Face - Welcome Home Peel the scars from off my back I don’t need them anymore I’ve come home ✧ The Track Team - Heart Chakra ✧ Blackmill - Redemption ✦ Sousuke + Rin ✧ Kaleo - Bang Bang (Cover) Seasons came and changed the times I grew up, I called him mine He would always laugh and say: “Remember how we used to play? Bang, bang.” ✧ Zayn - Good Guy I’m not a good guy But I know you’re mine (bang) I know you’re mine (bang, bang) ✧ L'Orchestra Cinématique - Crazy In Love (Instrumental Cover)
✦ Natsuya + Nao ✧ Cosmo Sheldrake - The Moss But have you heard the story Of the rabbit in the moon? Halsey - Colors Your little brother never tells you But he loves you so I hope you make it to the day you’re 28 years old 
✦ Hiyori + Ikuya ✧ Elvis Drew - Where Are You  I been trying to figure out where you from Is it the moon? Is it earth? Is it this place, where nothing is worse?  Nothing can compare to the life we had My dear just grab my hand and let me take you To my wonderland ✧ Swae Lee - Sunflower Some things you just can’t refuse I’m not tryna lose
✦ Isuzu + Gou ✧ Snow Patrol - The Golden Floor I’m a peasant in your princess arms Penniless with only charm
17 notes · View notes
nightwingvixen23 · 4 years
Text
SCORCHED
A little JayRoman fic that i just  now whipped up while bored as fuck lol
***
*****
*******
"I'm still wonderin' just where in the fuck you got those god damned things from.” Roy's words are knifelike, however at the slice of it’s blow to my gut, out rushed butterflies, contrary to blood.
Fuck him. Pinpointing just what’s not vital at this very moment.
"Always had'em," I insist, housing the twin mamba pistols, gleaming in decadence, back into their holsters at each thigh. . .. . . And yeah; they are in fact new. And no; I didn't buy them. 
Yes, i’m a fuckin' liar, sue me; I’ve been called worse. On the other hand, the actual truth reaches a hand far deeper into my organs then anyone needs to be groping there greedy fingers within, sloppy in movement, scuttling after answers that I'm beyond sure the owner of such a prying hand will come to anguish.
"Nah," Roy presses, slinging himself across a couch here in the drearily lighted safe house that we've together taken up refuge in somewhere North East of Gotham City, " I know all’ov your artillery dude. That shit's new. And looks hella posh. Did I miss yer birthday or somethin' ? " He cracks open a beer, guzzling it down while those jade eyes pierce through me from above the can. God damn him. I carelessly knock into his bow and arrows causing him to sputter his alcohol and run to their salvation, whining about how I could be 'such a fucking bully' however it gets him to shut the fuck up on the former topic under fire; and that was my only intention.
Nobody. 
Nobody needs to know about the gifts. 
What started out as a game has me now roped in pretty heavily, but, I’m a damn sucker for fucking with Roman's upper story, what can I say ?? I can be a mother fucking flirt when I wanna be (while not quite as sophisticated in the art as Dick Grayson himself) I've picked up a few logistics on how to score a man's desires...I mean,at least: the murderous type; how to score the desires of a man who wants to lacerate my spine as well as fuck me into the nearest floorboard. And it was all just a game. I swear it was. The thorns in my side enjoyed toying with the temper of a well-bred villain who's tasted blood soaked daggers, and known the Godlike fever of electing a fatal gasp from an parched lung. I liked the twisted smirk of his face from under that obscene leather mask. I liked the tangled intrigue of his body language. I relished how I held him in the palm of my hand; just another man eating whatever slop from the filthy bowl I threw at the floor for him to gobble up. 
That shit made me feel potent, dominant, I ain't gonna lie.
It had been upon entering my apartment one afternoon that I found a giant box on my coffee table, looking out of place amongst overall brown and black furnishings; this bright box done up in all red. With a scoff I checked it for explosives before revealing it’s contents to find a Gold-Inlaid Colt Model 1849 Pocket Revolver. . .this shit sells for 1.1 Million. . .and it was with that knowledge that I’d been keen on knowing just who the sender of such an item had been.
I’d doubled over laughing.
So, it went on this way for a while. The times Roman and I would happen to ‘chance upon one another’ or fall into a breakneck fight beneath dark Gotham skies, I always played up the immodest tart card. Teasing. Leading. And he followed the trail; come a few short days later I'd be rewarded a gift. This became something of a cycle. Something routine. Just, expected, yanno ?
Up until one drunken night I found the presents piling up around me to be annoying as all fuck in their gleaming elegence.
I wasn't a cheap prize to be won, some sodden part of my brain manifested this notion that then exploded into me breaking into Roman's estate and cursing for him to take every damned gift back, because, and I quote " I ain't your god damned slut mother fucker " more or less slurred.
There had been a beat of silence between us then. A beat. Just a beat. Before I was grabbed. Picked up. And I fucking cringe to say that that shit had me near to begging for him. Not many men that I've been with could pick me up, they never had the musculature and we’d always end up in missionary. But there I fucking was...being suddenly ripped piece by piece by Roman himself. Broken open.
 The callous scratch of the wall leaving red reminders trailed into the skin of my back, a surface I’d arched myself into as if to arch away. A part of me wanted that wall to swallow me whole, make me dissipate from here because I was feeling too much all at once. I didn't understand anything past our flirtatious banter. Didn't know the whimpered cries and wet moans coming from deep within my chest, nor the hands holding tight to the broad shoulders of this man who kept me blanketed in a hot rapture that not even Heaven it's self could muster the courage to match, and maybe that’s because this damned brute in a leather mask is the Devil; breathing into me all 7 Deadly Sin's at once, making burn within my esophagus a startling realization that all this time I may have been his fucking puppet whereas I thought it the other way around.....his fucking puppet now his fucking fuck toy.
I honestly can’t say how I made it back to my apartment. Last thing I recalled was being spent, slung over Roman's shoulder, then waking up in my own bed alone. Nevertheless, the scratches and metallic taste of blood were a clear reminder of the night we’d shared.
And upon that night, all that which I’d once known had been laid to rest.
Costly weaponry turned into expensive clothing. Expensive clothes turned into rare jewels. Jewels turned into a sports car, a sports car turned to a motorcycle....and my dumbass accepted it all, while discovering in me some sick, dark sort of amusement with each tiding.
Dick registered right away something was off with me, the depth in his blue eyes said it all as he took in my abrupt departure in fashion choice and of transportation. "I'm just doin' a bit better is all," I'd told him and he arched a brow while saying, "Look, I think I know what's up. But, only because I've been there myself. And let me just tell you that it's not worth it." I had scoffed, watching him walk away. Leave it to Dick to be the OG Sugar Baby of the BatFam. Somethin told me that Bruce was the supplier of his every need and hunger, but I refused to dive any deeper into that and left. In fact, I've stayed clear of Wayne Manor for quite some time. Refusing team ups, partnerships, and or pursuits having anything to do with Batman.
When it comes to Kori, she likes to dote on all that I've been given. On her own she unearthed the jewels I kept hidden away and tried them on for herself, twirling in the mirror and laughing while telling me, "Whomever this mystery man is has quite the taste," with a fancy wink. I'm shocked she didn't mention it at all to Roy--
---which is where we are now, currently in my safe house as I watch Roy check on his bow for scuff marks and pout over at me, grabbing back up his abandoned beer can. "I still say that someone bought you those pistols. It ain't your usual style, there too expensive seeming--"
"You callin me cheap ? Like i don't buy quality? " I ask a bit too defensively. Roy put his hands up . "No ! I'm just sayin...." his eyes squint a bit. “I’m just sayin that somethin's up with you man, an’ I got a bad feelin' about it."
I shrug, going to cleaning the mamba pistols of any blood tracked back from our earlier run in with a Mafia Boss and his little posse; which gets me thinking about Roman; the heated sting of his fingers, the scorch of those gloves everywhere they touched. And they never leave, those gloves. they stay on. Not because he chooses it, but because I demand it. I admit to being a bit of a masochist In the same way that I’m a bit of a liar A bit of a manipulator while also being the manipulated A bit damaged A bit taken for granted And with sense enough to know that Roman and I are destined to crash and burn But I’ve already burned once before, so;
     what's one more go around gonna hurt ?
63 notes · View notes
behindtherobinsmask · 3 years
Text
tagged by @runnfromtheak
Rules: list the first lines of your last ten stories. See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. I write the most random things so if you can actually find a pattern then... let me know. Help a fool out. 
P.S. - I know it says opening line and not paragraph but come on, that doesn’t do any story justice.
Gonna do my tags before because this turned out to be longer than expected - @elwon @stevieraebarnes @epistemologys 
1. All The Times Damian Wayne Felt Loved 
This was a birthday fic I wrote for a darling friend of mine. The whole time I was writing this my biggest fear was that the characters were going to... just not be right. Still have that fear.
“Gripping onto a pillow, Damian walked down the dark halls of his grandfather’s house, uncertainty clouding every step that he made. At this hour of the night, no one seemed to be around yet he could feel eyes watching his every move. The eyes of the stars in the sky, the moon and the many trained soldiers that had years of practice when it came to blending into the shadows. It was their presence that forced him to walk with his head held high, to bat away the tears in his eyes and pretend that everything was alright. Pretend that he wasn’t afraid.”
2. To all the stars that are listening
Another birthday fic (maybe that was the pattern all along jk). I actually really enjoyed writing this fic because I felt like I was back in my zone (my zone being angst). Can’t wait to get started on the second part.
“Dick’s life had been anything but ordinary since he was a child. As someone who grew up in the circus, his morning was spent studying with the other kids that travelled with his troupe while in the afternoon, he practiced with his heart and soul to fly as beautifully as his parents. In the nights, he’d stand on the sidelines and watch them perform, absolutely awed by the way their bodies moved, each twist, each turn so seamless, every difficult stunt seemed easy in their skin. Clinging onto the edge of the tent, he wished with all his heart that someday, he could be just like them. A bird freed. With every wish, his voice grew louder and louder until somewhere, up above, a star heard his cry. It heard his desire to be free. The chains that grounded him slowly slipped away and he flew with practiced grace. And just as Dick spread his wings, his parents fell. Birds flightless.
Freedom he had asked for and freedom he had received.”
3. Come here, won’t you hold my hand?
Listen, I spend hours of my life playing genshin impact. Did you really think I wouldn’t write a fic for it? 
“After chasing the traveler away, Xiao sighed, wondering if now was the time to head back to Wangshu Inn. There he could stay away from the harbour and its people, away from the wishes made on stars that could never hear them, away from their fragile happiness that he could shatter with a single touch. Someone like Xiao, so burdened with sins, could never mingle among the mortals without bringing harm. Wherever he went, only misery ever followed. But even though he knew that it would be best for him to leave, a part of him, as silly as it was, worried that the journey back would make him miss out on the opportunity to see an old friend. While he never attended the Lantern Rite in Liyue, he always made sure to catch a glimpse of the Mingxiao lantern that always honored the adepti. It was only at that moment that he could lose himself to the past momentarily and remember a time when he wasn’t so alone, when his battle wasn’t only his to fight.”
4. Jon Kent Must Die
A jaydick flashfic challenge gave birth to this crack series and I will happily go down with this ship. I’ve written too many of these and maybe, in the future I’ll write more. Who will stop me? God? I don’t think so. 
“Damian was sick and tired of his siblings.
Never had he met two people who were so dependent on their partners that they needed them around 24/7. It didn’t matter whether it was day or not, whether they were at the manor or in their respective homes, wherever his brothers went, their fool boyfriends seemed to follow. The obligatory family dinner had been turned into a circus with Todd’s usual clownery that had Damian rolling his eyes so hard that sometimes he was afraid they’d just pop out of his skull. Kent was no better. In fact, on more than one occasion, he had encouraged Todd’s rambling as though he was God’s chosen prophet, sharing his truth with the world. Damian really wished, just for a day, the two of them would simply go away. It wasn’t that he missed his siblings or anything. He just wished to have a conversation with Richard that didn’t end with him wanting to stab someone. Hopefully a 5’11 man with black hair with a streak of white and deep green eyes that could find a conspiracy in Titus’s preferred pose for napping.”
5. I wanna be in your arms by the sea (studying your freckles so curiously)
Yes. It’s another genshin impact fic. Sue me. (Please don’t I’m broke).
“Every night, Zhongli saw the same dream.
Caressed by the gentle winds of the Guili plains, he watched over his people, Guizhong’s people as they lived in prosperity, enjoying the calm and gentle wind that wrapped around them. Serenity was a blessing and they had an abundance of it. In the beginning, when Guizhong had described such a scene, something knit carefully in her imagination, he had not believed her. But now that he was seeing with his own two eyes, he was glad that he had agreed to her terms. Glad that he had formed a contract that had been beneficial for all.”
6. I stay up late and talk to the moon (And I can’t stop telling her all about you)
A christmas exchange fic that I loved writing because it really got me back into the writing for jaydick. It had been a while since I touched anything fandom related. Then this story happened. 
“According to Jason, there weren’t many things that Bruce really got right. Not with his rules that could never be bent for anyone or his sickeningly righteous sense of justice. But if there was one thing Bruce excelled in, it was throwing the world’s most boring party ever. Every event that ever took place in the Wayne manor was the same. Classical music. Champagne flutes. Appetizers that could never replicate Alfred’s cooking and finally, the same old rich folks of Gotham who needed to be filled in on the latest gossip lest they melt into a puddle.”  
7. Now I’m going down on you (proving what I want is true) Who told me I could write smut? Please take away my license. “Click. Click. Click. With a heavy sigh, Dick switched off the TV and tossed the remote aside after an hour of clicking through the channels, unable to find anything that would keep his mind occupied. Two weeks ago, during a drug bust with the rest of the bats, Dick had suffered an injury to his shoulder which he considered rather minor. But Alfred and Barbara said otherwise as he was benched until he healed, his own city taken over by other vigilantes while he was forced to sit at home and entertain himself with murder mysteries with plot twists he saw coming from a mile away. Unfortunately, even when he hit the gym to let go of some restless energy, he could only do the most basic of workouts, the kind that simply weren’t enough for someone who was so used to being active all day long.”
8. Wayne Boys Unsolved
Another crack fic that I really enjoyed writing. Poor Yvonne though. She was really suffering. 
“Yvonne’s body was thrumming with excitement as she peeked out the window of her room, her eyes falling on the black car that just pulled up in front of her house. Four boys stepped out, ones that she was so very familiar with. After all, she had spent many nights watching every single video they uploaded on their blog. They were paranormal investigators of sorts, the kind that didn’t believe in the supernatural and lived to debunk the stories that revolved around each haunted location. Because people loved to watch them so, both alive and dead, the boys had become famous in every circle possible.”
9. You make me wanna die (I’m burning up in the light)
Another birthday fic and the first dark story I ever wrote. Writing this was fun but also nerve-wracking. 
“I think we need a break.
Two years, three months, four days and seven hours. That was how long it had been since Jason had said those words to Dick, sitting in the middle of the bed they shared, silk sheets pooled around his scarred waist, the white of his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat, droplets of it swimming down his throat and across his bare chest that was bruised red with bite marks, across the autopsy scar that he had been reborn with. He looked like a picture, each feature painted so delicately with colours that pulled, that hypnotised and drowned. The fingers of his right hand flexed, parted and then brushed across the back of his neck, tracing the bond mark that tied him down to Dick, shuddering slightly under the imprint, his heady scent spreading across the room like a drug. Strong, so fucking strong that Dick could still taste it on his tongue. Looking like that, after everything they had done, when he opened his mouth, when he said the words that had been sitting on the tipping of his tongue, it was only to end everything that they were.”
10. Come fire up the night (make me feel alive)
Who told me I could write smut (2)
“Staring at the ceiling of his apartment, Dick lay in his bed, tired but unable to fall asleep, the ticking of the clock haunting him. Tick. He took in a deep breath. Tock. He closed his eyes. Tick. He tried to sleep. Tock. Every memory of Jason came rushing back to him. The dark hair with a streak of white that framed his chiselled face. The plump lower lip that he often dreamt about kissing, pulled between his teeth until Jason was groaning. The freckles that were scattered across his nose and cheeks. Those deep green orbs that gleamed with mischief, teasing and taunting, burning with unbridled fury, one look enough to make Dick’s knees tremble. And as goosebumps spread across his arms, he found himself waking up, lest he did something that he knew he would regret. Like calling up Jason and confessing feelings that were better left unspoken, buried in a special graveyard from which there would be no sudden resurrections.”
3 notes · View notes
bearly-writing · 4 years
Link
Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Batman - All Media Types, DCU Rating: Explicit Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage Relationships: Ra's al Ghul/Jason Todd Characters: Ra's al Ghul, Jason Todd, Talia al Ghul Additional Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Jason Todd, Alpha Ra's al Ghul, Intersex Omegas, Loss of Virginity, Biting, Knotting, Blood, Non-Consensual Bondage, Comatose Jason Todd, Sort Of, Hurt Jason Todd, Hurt No Comfort, Brief mention of male lactation, brief mention of MPreg, Neither of those are things that happen in this fic but they're both thought about Series: Part 3 of Jason Rare Pair Challenge, Part 1 of DC Kinkmeme Summary:
For the DC Kinkmeme prompt:
Ra's test drives an undunked Jason. The boy must be useful for something, after all, and he looks so pretty in chains.
( @dckinkmeme ) ( @jason-rarepairs )
It’s Talia who brings the boy to him. Or, rather, Talia’s men. He’s fighting like a wild thing when they present him to Ra’s, still covered in the mud of his grave, dripping wet and hissing like an angry cat. Two men restrain him, each gripping an arm, suspending the boy between them, and still he fights, thrashing against their hold.
“B,” he cries, raspy and pitiful. Tears streak down his face, cutting pale swathes through the grime. His eyes are wide and unseeing. “Bruce, please. Alpha! Dad!”
“The Detective’s son,” Talia says from her position beside Ra’s, as if he needs her to tell him that. “The one the Joker killed. Jason.”
Now that is interesting. Ra’s rakes a critical eye over the boy. Takes in the tattered suit, the blood caking his hands, the mangled fingers curled into useless fists at his sides. The little Robin - back from the dead. It’s certainly an interesting conundrum. There are very few who can claim the same feat.
“How did you manage that, little one?” Ra’s asks, stepping forward to get a closer look at the boy. When Ra’s reaches out to capture his chin in long fingers, Jason tries to jerk away, but Ra’s just firms his grip, tilting his head from side to side as he examines him.
Pale blue eyes stare back, hazy and unseeing. Jason’s mouth is open a little as he pants. Ra’s finds his gaze drawn to it, the wet, pink lips, the little flash of tongue. The boy is handsome, Ra’s notes. Beautiful, even, in a distinctly masculine way. If he were a little younger, those full lips and wide eyes might make him girlish, but the angular cut of his jaw, the strong nose, and the muscles rippling under his suit all speak of a man coming into his adulthood.
When Ra’s leans a little closer, though, he’s surprised to catch the sweet scent of omega beneath the stronger smell of mud and blood and filth.
“An omega?” he asks, surprised. He turns to look at his daughter, still standing straight-backed behind him, to see what she makes of the revelation. There’s no shock on her face, though, only a faint flicker of distrust hidden beneath an otherwise carefully neutral expression.
That’s interesting too. Would Talia have tried to hide the boy from him, he wonders, if she had thought she would be able? It’s clear from the tight set of her shoulders that she’s unhappy. A soft spot for the boy, perhaps? Or for his father?
Not that it particularly matters. Talia, for whatever reason, had not hidden Jason. And Ra’s is pleased with that fact. There is nothing that Talia - or anyone else for that matter - can keep from him for long. Ra’s would have found out about the boy eventually and that discovery would have been far less pleasant for everyone involved. Anything that belongs to the Al Ghuls, belongs to Ra’s.
Including this omega.
Ra’s leans in to get another scent of him. Using his grip on Jason's chin, he tilts his head to one side, baring the smooth, unmarred skin of his neck. The boy struggles against him, trying to tuck his chin into his chest and make himself less vulnerable. Even in this state, he’s clearly sensitive to the weakness his bared throat presents.
But Ra’s is far stronger and unconcerned by the boy’s struggles. He leans in to press his nose against soft skin, tracing it all the way up the length of Jason’s neck until it’s pressed against the sensitive gland behind his ear. Then he inhales the sweet, thick scent of omega straight from the source: vanilla and cinnamon and something surprisingly sharp that has Ra’s’ mouth watering. He breathes heavily over the gland and Jason shivers, jerks, making a tight, protesting sound at the back of his throat.
When Ra’s pulls back though, there’s no indication in the boy’s face that he recognises him - or the situation he’s in. It’s eerily blank, despite his clear unhappiness and the tears still spilling over his cheeks. Ra’s will have to fix that, eventually, but for now…
“Clean him up,” Ra’s orders, speaking to no one in particular but knowing that he’ll be obeyed anyway. “Then bring him to my quarters. I wish to investigate this further.”
When Ra’s finally retires to his room that night, he finds Jason waiting. He’s been cleaned up, just as Ra’s had ordered, skin pink and fresh from a good scrubbing. The omega’s natural scent is stronger now that he’s no longer covered in the combined filth of his grave and of Gotham, thick enough in the air to suggest that he’s been there a while. Ra’s finds he likes that idea - the boy waiting patiently for Ra’s to return and use him as he sees fit. It sends a little shiver of pleasure over his skin.
So does the sight of the boy - because what a sight he makes.
The ruined suit has been stripped from him, replaced with nothing but an intricate network of thin golden chains. They glint in the low light of Ra’s’ bedroom, a beautiful contrast against the boy’s brown skin. His arms are pulled behind him, wrapped from wrist to elbow, and the position pushes Jason’s chest out obscenely. More chains wrap over his torso, like a harness, criss-crossing over his muscular chest to connect to the fine gold collar wrapped delicately around his throat. Another chain - thicker than the others - runs between cuffs attached to each ankle, long enough that Ra’s could spread the omega’s thick thighs with relative ease, but still short enough to restrict movement. A final chain loops between the collar at his throat to the wrought iron footboard at the end of Ra’s’ bed, shackling Jason there with only enough give to keep him on his knees. A silky strip of satin green fabric is tied across the boy’s eyes, already damp with tears.
It’s a delightful image. Sinful in it’s beauty. Already, Ra’s can feel himself hardening beneath his clothes.
It takes just a few short steps to have Ra’s beside the boy. The scent is even stronger here. Ra’s can feel his glands swell as he pumps out his own alpha musk in response. The boy’s nostrils flare at the sudden change and he twitches unhappily in his bonds, letting a low little noise slide out of his throat. The way his muscles flex and slide under his skin as he tenses is intoxicating. Ra’s thinks he could watch it for hours.
But he doesn’t just want to watch. He wants to touch.
He presses fingers into Jason’s thick curls first, scratching lightly over his scalp. The boy twitches again, trying to jerk away, but he doesn’t speak. Ra’s just tightens his grip, twisting his fingers hard enough to loose a few strands of silky black hair. There’s a whimper at that - a small acknowledgement of the pain.
“B?” Jason whispers, trying to turn his head again, despite Ra’s grip.
It’s difficult to tell whether the boy is actively asking for his father, or whether the word is just one of the few he still remembers. It doesn’t particularly matter. Eventually Ra’s will teach him to say new words: he can already beg, it seems, but there’s plenty more Ra’s would like to hear from that sweet mouth.
“Your father is not here, little one,” Ra’s tells him, not unkindly. He strokes the hand not holding Jason still, down one smooth cheek. Feels the damp remnants of tears that have slipped past the blindfold. Presses his thumb against the boy’s plump bottom lip. Like that, he can feel Jason’s ragged breaths as he pants, open-mouthed. Feel the tantalising promise of a warm, wet mouth, “Nor will he come for you. I am your alpha now.”
If Jason understands him - or even hears him - he gives no sign of it. No matter, Ra’s will work on that in time. For now, he wants to explore exactly what the boy could be good for.
Ra’s drops smoothly to a crouch in front of him. He keeps his grip firmly in Jason’s hair, but allows his other hand to wander. First, to that smooth neck. The collar circling the boy’s throat is thin enough that most of his skin is still exposed, all of those sensitive glands free to Ra’s touch. He presses fingers lightly to the little lump behind the boy’s ear, palpating it gently until Jason gasps, trying to twitch away again. Ra’s holds the pressure for a moment, before sliding his fingertips down to the gland beneath his jaw instead. More teasing pressure - this time drawing a strained groan from the omega, and isn’t that an interesting noise? - before Ra’s flattens his hand to circle around the front of Jason’s neck, just above where the collar rests above his collarbones.
He wants to get his mouth on him. Wants to feel those glands give beneath the pressure of his teeth. Wants to taste the sweet oil such abuse would produce. He shivers with desire, flexing his fingers around the boy’s throat until he gasps again, that plush mouth dropping open as he tries to suck in air around the obstruction. There will be time for that and more, Ra’s tells himself. The boy is supposed to be dead after all.
Reluctantly, Ra’s loosens his grip. Jason sucks in a ragged lungful of air, only to lose it again when Ra’s drops his fingers to his chest, palming lightly over the swell of his pecs. They’re a delightful contrast of firm and soft - omegan fat layered over muscle built through years of training. If Ra’s allows Talia to have her way, that muscle will firm further as she moulds him into the assassin she desires. If Ra’s gets his way - and he will, of course he will - that muscle will fade with time as the boy serves a more traditional omegan purpose.
Ra’s pinches lightly at one dusky nipple, watching as it pebbles beneath his ministrations, flushing and stiffening in response to his touch. Jason gasps, jerking more forcefully - hard enough to pull a few more strands of hair loose - but Ra’s holds him still with ease. It’s not that Ra’s dislikes the muscle. In fact, he can appreciate the power in the boy’s body, the obvious reward of years of dedicated hard work. But he can’t deny that the idea of the omega’s chest soft with fat - or even better - swollen and plush with milk, sends an electric thrill of desire right down his spine.
Now that he’s thought it, Ra’s can’t banish the image from his mind. He ducks his head, allowing himself the indulgence of pressing the flat of his tongue over the omega’s stiff nipple. A startled little noise of pleasure escapes Jason and Ra’s smiles against his skin, fastening his lips over him to suckle gently. Eventually, such an action will draw milk into his mouth, thick and rich and creamy for Ra’s and his pups to enjoy.
When Ra’s pulls back, he’s pleased to find an attractive red flush has spread over Jason’s cheeks, all the way down his neck to stain his chest. It’s impossible to tell if it’s a reaction to the boy’s embarrassment or his arousal - or maybe just the effort of fighting against Ra’s’ hands. Ra’s doesn’t particularly care. It certainly makes a pretty picture and that’s all that Ra’s needs from the boy.
“Did you like that, omega?” he asks, indulgently, cupping the swell of Jason’s chest and swiping his thumb over the damp nipple. “Soon these will be swollen with milk for me, hmm?”
The omega whines his displeasure, although whether it’s from the words or the action of Ra’s’ hand is unclear. How much of Jason is still present in this - admittedly delightful - shell is a question that still needs investigating. Is the strange catatonia a side effect of his death and resurrection or simply a shock reaction? With time, will the boy come back to himself, and his situation, or will he forever be only an attractive body with no real mind of his own?
Ra’s finds he dislikes that idea. Beautiful omegas are not hard to come by and Ra’s has warmed his bed with more than a few of them. It’s who the boy is that makes him special. The little Robin, the Detective’s son. It’s that which has excitement stirring in his belly. Of course, Ra’s can still make use of even an empty shell - the omega will serve his purpose just the same - but he can’t deny that he likes the idea of life returning to those pale blue eyes - of fire and fight.
Speaking of...the blindfold is beautiful, but not necessary. Ra’s reaches up and gently loosens it, allowing it to fall soundlessly to the ground. The boy blinks, long eyelashes fluttering over those hazy blue eyes. Even with his sight back, there’s no recognition there. Jason stares as blankly as if he were still blind.
“One day I hope you will recognise your alpha,” Ra’s murmurs, dropping his hand to palm over the flat plane of the omega’s stomach, right over his womb. Jason’s muscles twitch and jump beneath his palm and Ra’s presses harder, imagining swollen flesh beneath his touch. Imagining that smooth skin drawn taut over the swell of Ra’s’ pups.
Desire pours like molten lava down Ra’s’ spine. He feels his cock stiffen to full hardness under his clothes, twitching at the prospect of breeding the little omega raw, filling him again and again with Ra’s’ potent seed until he’s heavy with a bellyful of the alpha’s pups. In truth, there is very little chance that pups will result from their coupling now, considering the omega is so young and clearly not in heat, but just imagining it makes him almost frantic with lust. The scent of his arousal thickens the air around them, heavy and all-consuming. He can see the effect it has on the boy - the way his nostrils flare as he inhales sharply, the sudden dilation of his pupils, the light sheen of sweat that’s broken out across his skin.
More tears well at Jason’s lashes and a pitiful whine draws itself from his throat - a delightfully omegan fear response. Ra’s responds in kind by lifting his hand to stroke a thumb over one smooth cheek. He replaces it almost immediately with his lips, gathering the salty taste of the boy’s tears on his tongue before moulding his mouth over Jason’s in a hard kiss.
Another small noise of protest, breathless and muffled by the press of Ra’s’ lips. When Ra’s pushes his tongue into the slick cavern of his mouth, Jason surprises him with a bite. Pain flares, sharp, at the action, and Ra’s tastes the rich copper of his own blood before he pulls back.
Ra’s backhands the boy without even thinking about it - an automatic response to the disobedience and the sharp throb of his own pain. The omega cries out as he’s hit, then again when he falls and the chain at his throat draws tight, jerking him forward like a fish on a line and strangling the breath from him. With his arms restrained behind him, there’s no way for Jason to catch himself and he ends up with his face pressed into the thick carpet of Ra’s’ bedchamber, his knees caught awkwardly beneath him. It’s close enough to a presenting position - that long, smooth back exposed - for pleasure to spark under Ra’s’ skin, even if he is on decidedly the wrong side to enjoy it.
Still, Ra’s will have ample opportunity to enjoy whatever he wants from the boy, at his own leisure.
He cups his palm beneath Jason's chin, using the grip to tilt his face up, pulling him off the ground just enough that the boy has to rely on Ra’s to keep him upright, his weight thrown awkwardly forward as he balances on his knees. It lets Ra’s enjoy the flex of those muscles again as Jason struggles to maintain the position without leaning too heavily into the hand at his chin, those thick thighs twitching with the effort.
“There is little point in fighting,” Ra’s warns him, the copper taste of blood still thick on his tongue. “You will submit to me, omega.”
Then, before Jason can respond - if he is even capable of doing so - Ra’s shifts his grip to haul him up by his throat, tossing him easily onto the bed. Ra’s has done enough exploring now and his arousal has him impatient. He might have taken the boy just like that, kneeling on the floor, but Ra’s rarely denies himself small comforts and, although the carpet is thick, the bed will be kinder on his knees.
The chain keeps the omega leashed to the footboard but there is enough give for him to settle on the bed without choking himself. When Ra’s slides in behind him, Jason twists automatically, struggling to make himself less vulnerable. His eyes are very wide, flashing white with fear, as if the shock of the pain has woken something in him - some frightened spark of recognition. Though, with the chains wrapped around his arms and torso, stretching between his legs and collared at his throat, there isn’t exactly much he can do to free himself. It’s easy for Ra’s to position him as he desires: forcing a thigh between the boy’s spread legs and kneeling on the chain there to keep him in place; closing a firm hand over the back of Jason’s neck, pressing him into the mattress and curving his back into a pleasing, presenting arch.
Jason resists, his muscles tense with strain, a pleading little whine squeezing out of his throat. But Ra’s has bested far greater opponents than a comatose omegan boy and he has little sympathy for the pathetic noises leaking out of him. In fact, they only serve to excite him further - calling to the primal alpha need to own and dominate.
Once he has the boy situated, Ra’s allows himself his first proper look at the prize between the omega’s legs, keeping one heavy hand between Jason’s shoulder blades as he takes his fill of the sight. With his ass perked up in the air and Ra’s spreading his legs, there is little to impede the view of the boy’s pink slit, soft folds nestled amongst sparse black curls. The sight of it has Ra’s salivating. So too, does the dusky hole winking above it, the limp weight of the boy’s little cock dangling between his thighs, below.
A growl rises in Ra’s’ throat, low and possessive. Jason shivers at the sound. When Ra’s presses his free hand between the omega’s thighs, stroking lightly over the hot folds of the boy’s cunt, a weak, frightened little warble escapes his chest. When Ra’s presses two of those same fingers deep into the slick, tight, heat of him, the warble turns into a cry, his whole body jolting at the intrusion.
“No,” Jason gasps, as Ra’s slides his fingers out to the tips and shoves them back in, setting a merciless rhythm. “Alpha, please! No.”
If Ra’s believed those sweet little cries were for him, he might be inclined to show some mercy. But it’s just more of the same - the boy calling out for his father, his old alpha, to save him from his distress and fear, despite barely even knowing what’s happening to him.
Ra’s growls again, spearing his fingers deep enough to punch a weak sob out of the boy. Then, buried up to his knuckles in that sweet cunt, Ra’s presses the flat of his thumb against Jason’s other hole.
The omega jerks as much as he can in his bonds, struggling to get away with a startled yelp. It’s not like he can really put any distance between them, with Ra’s pressing hard between his shoulder blades, spreading his legs and keeping them trapped with his knees on the chain between them. If Ra’s wants to spear his thumb into that tightly furled muscle, he will. If Ra’s wants to forgo the boy’s pussy entirely and force his dripping cock into that tight, dry little hole instead, well, it’s not as though anyone is going to be able to stop him.
He teases the idea, dipping the tip of his thumb past the clenched ring of muscle. The omega makes a delightful, wounded sound. “No,” he begs again, writhing hard enough to set the web of chains around him rattling.
This time, Ra’s indulges him. He pulls his hand back, slipping his fingers free from the tight clutch of Jason’s body and sliding them down to cup over his limp cock instead. The omega is barely aroused, flaccid in Ra’s’ grip, only a little slick dampening his fingers. Not enough for a comfortable fuck, anyway, but Ra’s doesn’t particularly care for the omega’s comfort. He does rub damp fingers over the head of the boy’s cock, though, before running them lightly up and down the shaft, just to hear the delightful little gasp of pleasure as he does so.
In comparison, Ra’s’ cock, when he tugs it free of the loose trousers he wears, is thick and hard and huge. It strains in Ra’s’ grip as he gives himself a few perfunctory strokes, flooding the room with his scent. Jason shivers again at the sudden press of alpha arousal, a soft little mewl escaping his throat, and Ra’s feels the involuntary twitch of his omegan cock where it’s still gripped in his fist. But Ra’s has run out of the patience needed to work the boy up. His cock is so hard it’s throbbing, all of his alpha instincts screaming at him to take and claim and dominate.
Ra’s readjusts his grip, moving to grasp the back of Jason’s neck as he layers himself over the arch of his back. The other hand guides the heavy weight of his cock to the boy’s cunt, sliding it through the slick heat of the omega’s folds in preparation. The head catches on the boy’s entrance, eliciting another burst of energy as Jason struggles against him, yelping in terror. Ra’s ignores him, pressing into that tight, wet heat before letting go of himself to grip the omega’s hip so that he can pull him back onto his cock in one long thrust.
The omega wails, a high, sharp cry of pain and distress. The sound tugs at something primal, deep in Ra’s’ chest and he snarls, hunching over Jason, grinding his hips hard into the swell of the boy’s ass as he claims that tight passage. The feel of him is everything Ra’s had expected, hot and tight - God, so tight - and only a little wet. It feels good around Ra’s’ cock, the velvety clutch of the omega’s body drawing him deep, squeezing and pulsing around him with every pained clench. He groans, low and guttural, pressing his forehead into the smooth skin of the boy’s shoulders, inhaling the heady scent of omega.
Ra’s’ cock twitches then, flexing with the desire to thrust, and Ra’s wastes no time in setting a measured rhythm, each snap of his hips driving him deep into the unwilling body beneath him. The omega cries out with each thrust, mewling and sobbing pitifully, whimpering in pain. His hands flex where they’re pinned to the small of his back. Those ruined fingers brush against Ra’s’ abdomen with every spasm. The boy’s mouth is open against the sheets as he pants and whines, his eyes squeezed shut, tears leaking over his cheeks. The sight of his face, flushed and damp, sends a shock of arousal through Ra’s and his next thrust is harder than before, jolting him deep. Jason gasps, trembling, and something about the sound makes Ra’s think it was more pleasure than pain.
The omega is definitely a virgin. Ra’s finds that fact pleases him more than it probably should.
“Take it, sweet thing,” Ra’s growls, each powerful rock of his hips shaking the bed beneath them. Something hot and liquid curls through his gut as the omega does, trembling and gasping as he’s forced to accommodate Ra’s’ girth. “Take your alpha’s cock. I want you full and fat with my pups.”
The omega lets out a strangled whine and a delightful shiver wracks his body as he clenches tight around Ra’s. Ra’s growls again, lurching over him to close his mouth over the swollen gland behind his ear. The boy cries out at the sudden contact, his body going tight as a bowstring as Ra’s laves his tongue hotly over the little gland before sealing his lips over it and giving it a hard suck.
The cry is definitely pleasure this time, even if it ends in a wet sob. “No,” Jason whispers, so quietly that Ra’s barely hears him and Ra’s ignores it. Just rocks his hips faster, worrying at the gland between his teeth. Every press sends a rolling shudder down the little omega’s spine. His cries are interspersed with pleasured moans now: ah-ah-ah’s punched out of him with every spear of Ra’s’ cock, low groans rumbling in his chest as Ra’s’ works at his throat. The boy’s cunt is slick around Ra’s too, although whether it’s arousal or blood is hard to tell. There’s definitely blood in the air - the rich copper smell of it - and it drives Ra’s a little wild.
He can feel his orgasm building in his gut, surging under his skin. The base of his cock swells with every thrust until one final roll of his hips locks his knot into place. Jason comes hard around it with a broken shout, his hips jerking as he spasms around Ra’s’ cock, spurting his seed across the sheets beneath him, his whole body trembling as he convulses in pleasure and pain. The tight clamp of his body is enough to tip Ra’s’ over the edge too and he comes with a strangled roar, snapping his jaws shut over the boy’s throat, jerking his hips roughly against the omega’s ass, despite the fact that his knot holds him tight in place. Blood and oil bursts over his tongue, only heightening his pleasure as he rides the swell of his orgasm, shooting fertile alpha seed deep into Jason’s cunt in sharp, rhythmic spurts.
The boy trembles, sobbing pitifully as he clenches again and again, milking Ra’s’ seed like a good omega should. Ra’s unlatches his jaw, panting against Jason’s skin as another wave of his orgasm rolls over him. Groans at the liquid pleasure that seeps through his whole body. Pleased with his little omega, he allows himself the indulgence of lapping at the weeping wound on his neck, savouring the sharp taste of blood and the sweeter tang of his scent gland.
The omega makes a choked, wet noise at the stimulation. With a hoarse shout, he comes again, weakly, not much more than a few frantic pulses around the knot still buried deep in his cunt. His cock is soft where it hangs between his thighs. Ra’s’ breath catches at the sensation, his hips flexing as he looses another gush of cum.
“Good boy,” Ra’s purrs, as he comes down from that sudden high. The boy just whimpers but Ra’s wasn’t exactly expecting any coherency from him. “My good little omega.”
He uses his grip to twist the omega’s face up towards him. This time, when he slips his tongue into Jason’s slack mouth, there’s no bite. Just warm, wet heat and the taste of salt. Ra’s peppers soft kisses across the boy’s cheeks, catching more of those precious tears, over his jaw, down his bared throat and across his shoulder blades. When he reaches up to tweak at one neglected nipple, Jason heaves a sob, twitching unhappily, but doesn’t try to pull away.
Even when Ra’s’ knot starts to deflate and he can finally slip free of the tight clutch of his omega’s body, the boy doesn’t move. Blood and semen slide down the inside of his thighs, dripping steadily onto the silk sheets beneath him, and Ra’s pauses to admire the sight. With one finger, he catches a little pink trickle as it slips over Jason’s skin, sliding up the soft flesh of his inner thigh to scoop the mess back into his hole, plugging the exit with two fingers.
He’ll have to get a proper plug, Ra’s muses. His knot should be good enough to keep Jason bred, but Ra’s likes the idea of the omega carrying his seed with him wherever he goes. Not that he’s going to be going anywhere, any time soon, of course. Ra’s intends to keep him here, in his chambers, taking him whenever he likes, until the boy is round with his pups.
Ra’s strokes his clean hand over Jason’s flank, sliding it lightly over the criss-cross of chains. The omega doesn’t acknowledge the touch, lying limp and spent where Ra’s had left him on the bed, not even shifting to a more comfortable position. What Ra’s can see of his face is slack and blank, his eyes half-lidded, the blue of them glazed beneath his lashes. That has a little twinge of disappointment pinging in Ra’s’ stomach. He does hope that Jason comes back to himself a little - if only to prove a more interesting challenge.
And if not? Well, Ra’s can still enjoy the boy plenty. Jason’s body has its uses, after all, and if his heat comes in soon, that will be all the better. Ra’s can’t shake that delightful image of the omega heavy with his pups and, well, who’s to say that won’t become a reality?
The omega belongs to Ra’s now, after all.
29 notes · View notes
whumpbby · 5 years
Text
GASP
That vampire!Tim fic got me thinking - What if the whole Batfam was vampires and Jason was the local priest they all went to for help when supernatural stuff needed to be extinguished? And, like, it didn’t start like that, he was just a simple priest in a rundown parish/church and he tried to help people, but then one vampire happened and another, and then some ghost and Jason was the only Catholic there and pretty accidentally banished the spirit. 
And the Bats started to employ him for more of that. And he was so green, so he had to read up on these things, learn how to do exorcisms, because without it he was going to die early AGAIN. 
And Bruce is not happy that his kids started to involve the poor priest in their work of keeping Gotham safe, but they aren’t stopping, so as a gesture of hanks and apology he starts to donate money to the church. Jay uses it to fix the roof, open a soup kitchen, finance a daycare for working families, etc, and it’s a perfect deal, so he can’t stop helping, because he’s afraid that the money would stop coming (it wouldn’t, Bruce was impressed with his work and would finance charity either way). 
And so after a while all the supernatural creature sin Gotham are like, oh yeah, the priest, Father Todd, he’s one of Bruce’s. 
And then one night things happen and Jason ends up back to back with Bruce, who just saved his life but paid for it with a gruesome wound, and Jay decides to share his blood with the vampire as a payback. And being fed on by such an ancient being is wow, like, whoa, like being steamrolled. And afterwards Bruce is like, well, now you’re mine:)
And Father Todd is like, what is my life=_= 
Even worse, now all the other kids also want a taste of him, because it’s not fair that only father gets to try a priest:O
151 notes · View notes
ladtheove · 2 years
Text
Tastes like Gotham and Sin - Ladtheove - Batman - All Media Types [Archive of Our Own]
So... I got hit with inspiration.... Horny inspiration. And this one shot came out....
I hope you all enjoy (• ▽ •;)
Also, vampires.
Next fic to update will be 'Raised under the moonlight'
9 notes · View notes
Text
Fanfic Author Meme.  Keep Reading after question 2 for 3-50.
1. What was your first fic and could you stand to reread it today?
Jesus Lord, no.  I’d die of secondhand embarrassment before I got halfway through it.  It was never published online, thank Christ.  It was called … ugh, I don’t remember what I called it, but it was a line from Edmund Spenser.  (Don’t judge.)  It was an OC female character and Autolycus, from Hercules and Xena, played by Bruce Campbell.  It was… a SHAMBLES.  Self-insert, wish-fulfillment of the worst kind.  But, my friend Alicia read it at the time and she told me how great she thought it was, and I should keep at it.  So, thank you, Edmund-Spenser-titled-fic.
2. What’s your most recent fic and how far do you think you’ve come?
It’s called “i commit sins every day but i never give my soul away”, and it’s on my AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/22951009.  And I actually don’t have a unit of measurement for how much I’ve improved.  But it’s also been… God, I’m 43 today,  so it’s been 27 years I’ve been writing.  Almost thirty years.  Shit, I’m old.
3. In your opinion, what’s your best fic?
Oh, man.  Tricky question.  If by best you mean technically written, most enjoyable?  I’d say maybe wasting the dawn.  Definitely By Inches We Fall.  But to be totally honest with you?  I think my best fic, the one that got me, personally by the throat, shook me, and hasn’t let me go?  Shoah.  It’s one of my earlier fics, from the Sentinel fandom, but man.  Writing this was rough.  I did my research on concentration camps, and I couldn’t sleep right for weeks.  Lisa and Patt were holding my hands over AIM practically every night when I was sobbing that I couldn’t finish it, that I couldn’t do it, that it was too much.  (I’d have been about fucking seventeen, maybe nineteen, when I was writing it.)  I bit off way more than I was prepared for, but I didn’t quit.  And I’m proud, quite frankly, that I even finished the damn thing, but even this far removed from it, I still feel that gut-punch when I go back re-read it, which is why I don’t.  And haven’t for a couple of years.  
4. In your opinion and without looking at any numbers, what’s your most popular fic?
It’d probably be Consortio.
5. Is there any fic that makes you super happy to reread and remember you wrote that?
I actually feel that way about 99% of my stuff.  Even some of the older stuff, I re-read it and I get really happy because not only do I see myself changing and maturing, I realize I was harder on myself than I should have been.  I didn’t suck like I thought, and I get the warm fuzzies.
6. Is there any fic that makes you super embarrassed to reread and remember you wrote that?
Er, not really?  I mean, there’s some cringey shit I wrote when I was like, twelve, but not even I know where those notebooks got off to.
7. What’s the fic you most want to continue (unfinished or no)?
By Inches We Fall.  It’s my only Game of Thrones fic, and I feel like I really want to continue the story of Jamie and Brienne and their kids, and of Jaime being Hand to King Jon and Queen Sansa.
8. What’s the oldest (longest since last update) fic you most want to continue (unfinished or no)?
How Firm A Foundation.  It’s a Deadwood fic, and I (many years ago, when Deadwood was actually on the air) actually sketched out how every chapter would go.  There’s a few things I’d change today, if I started it again, just because I can plot better than I could ten years ago, but I think the thread of the story is gone forever.
9. Have you ever written for a fandom without watching/reading/playing the source material?
Yami No Matsuei.  A friend of mine was actually heavily into YnM, and I wrote several stories for her.  Later I’ve watched some of it, and I realize I did okay on my characterizations, but there’s always things I could have done better.
10. Have you ever written for a fandom without reading other fanfic for it?
Pretty much every fandom I have ever been in.  I don’t read a lot of fanfic, because I’m afraid (almost paranoid, in fact) that I’ll internalize something I’ve read and later spout it out in my fic, and I don’t ever want to copy anyone, deliberately or otherwise.
11. Have you ever written a fic for a concept you know someone else has done before? How did it impact your writing process or feelings after posting?
I have, and I didn’t publish it for the reason above; I didn’t feel like my take on it was original enough to bother.
12. Have you ever written a fic and decided never to publish it? Why?
Lots of reasons, actually.  Sometimes I write with the intention of not publishing, it’s something just for me.  I’ve also written a few fics that I ended up absolutely hating, and they’ve never seen the light of day.  I’ve also done some that I felt wasn’t original enough, or they were written about the trope du jour, and I had nothing else to offer that ten other people hadn’t already done.
13. What’s the biggest change between your style when you started in fandom and today?
Sentence style and structure.  I used to do the whole, “He said.”  “In reply, she said.”  “The sky was blue when he rode in.”  And then a few of my better friends (and betas) took me in hand and showed me how to mix it up, chop my comma addiction in half (seriously, I once had a single sentence run on for twelve lines.) and I feel like I get a better grip on characterization.
14. What’s the biggest change in your taste between when you started in fandom and today?
Sex.  I used to write it in everything.  And then the more I wrote, and the older I got, the less I wanted to write it (or read it, or talk about it.)  So I’m a lot more comfortable writing non-sex stories than I used to be.
15. Have you ever purposefully written one fandom/fic idea over another because you knew it’d be more popular?
Of course.  I think everyone has, at one point or another.
16. Have you ever stopped writing a fic/for a fandom because it wasn’t receiving enough attention?
Anything I’ve ever abandoned was lack of my own attention, not anything else.  I’m kinda used to not getting a lot of attention.
17. In your opinion, what’s your most overrated fic?
What He Wants.  It’s pretentious wankfic, for a pairing I don’t actually like all that much (Lucius/Harry), and I just feel like everyone loves it way more than it deserves.
18. What’s your most underrated fic?
I’m gonna pick on Shoah again, because I feel like it just doesn’t get enough love.  I’m biased, because of how emotionally attached I am to the fic, but I feel like it’s ignored.
19. If you had to pick one fic/scene/chapter of your work to describe your entire portfolio to a stranger, which would you pick?
Wasting The Dawn.  It’s a Magicians fic, and it showcases every character from the show, and I think I did a passable job of hitting every voice.  So I’d be proud to show that one around.
20. Have/Would you ever rewrite a fic? If yes, would you take the original down?
Would I rewrite it?  Sure.  Would I take down the original?  Um, that’s a little more difficult.  On the one hand, I’m not really ashamed, as such, of anything that I did.  But having two copies of things would get really complicated and onerous.  I might actually start a second pseud, like maybe kelex-originals or something like that, and move the originals over to that, and leave the rewrites on my main, with a link to the original in the notes.  Yeah, that’s probably what I’d do.
21. If someone starts kudosing and commenting your fics in a spree and has a few works of their own, would you go look through theirs?
HELL YES.  Mostly because I’m always looking for shinies to read in fandoms I don’t write for.  I also kind of like to read their stuff and get a feel for who they are and why they like what I’ve got.  But mostly, I just love it and it makes me giggle watching someone go through my fics and like EEEE THERE YOU ARE AGAIN.
22. Has there ever been anyone who’s made you freak out because they read your work and followed/favorited/reviewed?
Fucking scads of people, actually.
23. What’s the nicest review you’ve ever gotten?
Oh man, I’ve got a fuckton of good ones.  But the one that I always get a kick out of is on one of my Gotham fics, and the comment was along the lines of, the tag mentioned bed-sharing and they thought that was all it was going to be, but it was so much more and they got caught up in it and it was wonderful.  And that’s my favorite (if not the nicest) because I love the fact that I was able to give someone something they enjoyed, even more because it was unexpected!
24. What’s the meanest review you’ve ever gotten? Do you think the reviewer intended it?
It was a review back in the days of OneList, and I was told that my pencils should be broken and my keyboard taken away because I was a terrible writer.  And yes, I know they meant it.
25. What constructive criticism, however well-meaning, always makes you feel bad when you see it in a review?
It’s less a concrit and more a crit.  But it’s always, “why did you do X?  It was out of character!” and that makes me grit my teeth.  Mostly because I feel like I’ve always explained, thoroughly, why I’ve done something (whether in dialog, in the writing itself, or heavily implied in monologues), and that question always makes me want to throttle someone because either they didn’t get it, or I didn’t.  
26. What aspect of your writing do you most enjoy to see praised?
Humor.  I’m a sarcastic bitch, and when it’s appropriate (and sometimes when it isn’t), I have funny characters or have characters deadpan things.  And it delights the fuck out of me when someone highlights that as one of their favorite parts.
27. If you could only ever write crossovers or single-fandom fics ever again, which would you pick?
Single fandom fics.  I’m not a fan of crossovers, though I’ve written them from time to time, and probably will again if I think it’s appropriate.  I just prefer not to cross the streams, as it were.
28. if you could only ever write for a single crossover or a single fandom again, which would you pick?
Good Omens.  Hands down.  So. Many. AUs.  So many ideas.  So many delightful characters.
29. Does the division of your writing across fandoms line up with your reading? What’s the biggest discrepancy?
It does not.  I read far, far less than I actually write.
30. Do you continue to write for a fandom after you’ve moved on or do you focus solely on the new one?
I usually focus on the new one, however, I’ve occasionally re-visited a fandom after I’ve left it, because inspiration hits me, or I’ve gotten back into it.
31. Who’s the one character you’ve just never managed to get perfectly right?
Margo Hanson, from the Magicians.
32. Who’s the one character who shines without you even trying?
There’s a few.  Eliot Waugh, Lex Luthor, Jack O’Neill, the Doctor (9 & 10 mostly)
33. Is there any particular character whose scenes always wind up being longer/more frequent than you expected? Does the quality hold up?
Not really?  Characters and scenes are as long as they need to be.  I do think the quality holds up, though, because honestly, by the time they’re done, I’m done.
34. Was there any fic that you wrote that really surprised you in the fandom reaction? Was it just by the numbers or did they take it an entirely different way?
Not really, or if there was, I don’t remember it.
35. Have you ever written a ship into a fic without meaning to?
Yup.  It snuck in there, especially in the background early on, and by the end I was like, what the fuck, I don’t even ship you, YOU DON’T EVEN GO HERE.
36. Have you ever sincerely written a ship you do not support into a fic?
Nope.  If I don’t like a ship, I don’t write it.
37. Have you ever purposefully bashed a character/ship in a fic?
No.  Not as a writer.  But like, I have written a character saying “I don’t think X belongs with Y, they belong with me!” because that’s pretty much how the actual relationship went down.  (Spike, Buffy, Riley most specifically.)
38. Have you ever purposefully written something you know your readers would find uncomfortable/would not enjoy? If yes, why?
Very, very, very many years ago.  I wrote it just to see if I could.  I could, I did, and I haven’t written it again.
39. Do you consider yourself to have a readership?
No.
40. Do you feel like you put out enough content?
I feel like I put out what I need to.  Is it enough?  idk.
41. If you cross-post your fics on multiple sites, do you have a favorite? Are there certain fics you would only post on certain site?
AO3 is, hands down, my favorite.  For awhile, I was posting to WWOMB (Wonderful World of Make-Believe) but I’ve stopped there, sadly.
42. How many views has your most popular fic gotten?
Consortio is my most popular fic, and it’s gotten 21,658 hits.  Although the fic is multi-chapter, so I don’t know how to break that down into individual hits. In fact, four of my five most popular are multi-chapters.  The only single-chapter fic is What He Wants, clocking in at 6,743. 
43. Your least popular?
The Rose and the Yew Tree, with 0 hits.
44. Do you follow/favorite/kudos/comment/review more stories than you have received?
Unfortunately, no.
45. If you had to call yourself an author of a single genre (besides fanfic) what label would you give yourself?
Pornography.
46. Do you consider yourself a diverse author?
Diverse as in fandoms?  Yes.  Diverse as in style?  Not so much.
47. If someone you know in real life who isn’t involved in fandoms asked to read your work, would you let them? If yes, what would you recommend they read first?
I’ve done that before, and I’ve tailored it to the person and what I know they like.  For example, my old boss got me hooked on La Femme Nikita (the Peta Wilson one), and so when she wanted to read my writing, I gave her my LFN fics to read.
48. Does anyone you know from outside of fandom know you write fanfic? Are they involved in the same fandom too?
Yes, and some of them.
49. Has anyone in your life ever read your fanfic just because you wrote it?
Yes.
50. Has writing fanfic had a significant impact on your life? Would you say it’s entirely positive?
It has had a very significant impact, and no, it hasn’t been at all positive.  Some of my best moments, as well as my worst, are because of fanfic and fandom, but fanfic in particular.  Fic’s brought me close to people, fic’s pushed me away from people, and it’s made people change the way they look at me.
3 notes · View notes
aliypop · 4 years
Text
The Mafia Meet Up
Tumblr media
Word Count :  2,279
A/N : Trying out a fic with Lucifer and my Character Yonah
Warning: Smut
Yonah sat at her desk taking calls and enjoying her usual Saturday at the GCPD when suddenly the sound of files dropped onto her desk, behind the stack was Jim Gordon holding a ticket to L.A.
"What's this for?" Yonah asked, watching the way Jim was acting. 
"It's an undercover mission, you'll know the rest when you get there," Jim said, 
"Sunny side LA here I come..." Yonah said, getting off the plane she could already tell this was going to be a bumpy ride of a weekend, the sun was bright and beating hot almost like hell itself, as she made her way to the LAPD she couldn't help wonder what this case was all about. 
"Detective Wayne you're here, I'm Detective Espinoza," he said, taking his hand out for her to shake it, in which Yonah did, he was handsome, but she still was lost on the case. 
"So about this case?" she asked, 
"Well, we're gonna pair you up with hopefully.." 
"Another beautiful day isn't it," Yonah paused as she heard a familiar voice coming from down the hall, it was sweet smooth and seductive the sound of a pure handsome devil, "I'm Luci-" he paused looking down at the shorter woman. It had been a while since she had even seen him, "Lucifer.." Yonah smirked, "You're a detective now?" she asked, as Dan looked at the two confused, but getting an idea for the case.
"It's settled.." 
The case was for the two to sell that they were a couple, not just any couple, but one of L.A.'s toughest crime lords, ever since the mobs of Gotham started to arrive, L.A. has been more of a mess than usual, and it was up to Lucifer and Yonah now to fix it. Sitting in the middle of Lux was Yonah who was reading over the case, 
"Do you think we can pull it off?" she asked, looking up at Lucifer. 
"Depends if you want me to, love." He smirked watching her blush, he always enjoyed teasing Yonah whenever she was around him, It was almost as if he made it his goal in a sense, "So who's gonna be the don in the relationship?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows at her.
 "Both of us.." she grinned, "Now Luci?" scooting closer laying her hand on his thigh giving it a little squeeze, " If they ask, you were the son of an opposing mob don of mine, " she began leaning in closer towards him, "by the way Luci.," she whispered in his ear.
"What is it you desire.." she asked, her eyes glowing a violet color as she noticed Lucifer staring into them. 
"Well I..," 
"I'm just kidding I'm heading to bed, you're welcome to join me?" she hinted at him. 
"Tired already, Ms. Wayne," he asked watching her walk up the steps, 
" I never said I was tired, I only said I was heading to bed, Mr. Morningstar." she purred waiting for his reaction, Lucifer began to run up the steps after her as he caught her in his arms. Yonah looked up at him as she kissed him under the Jaw her free hand already in his devilish black hair, Yonah only gave him a little smirk as she kissed down his neck pinning up him up against the wall, 
"We'll finish this tomorrow, perhaps?" Yonah said walking away from him, as he left speechless, there was something about her that made him want to beg for her to tame him which was odd since that was usually his effect on women,    later the next night Yonah was busy setting up for their plan, she knew it was up to her to set up the whole mafia meet up, but it had to be done with the right appearance. Yonah walked down the steps wearing a tight-fitting mermaid gown that was trimmed in gold with red on the bottom of it. 
Lucifer couldn't keep his mouth closed when he saw her, he wanted to tremble in her presence and let her have his way with him. "Well, you look at you.." he smirked, "Don't you look good enough to eat?" 
"Later babe, the guest will be here any minute," she smirked, fixing his tie as she pulled him by it to face her height, "And behave please,"
"What if I don't want to?" he whispered, Yonah looked at him pure lust in her eyes. "Then I'll make you." she giggled hearing a knock on the door as her eyes were wide, 
"They're here, we're doing this.." she began to panic.
Lucifer opened the door while Yonah went back upstairs to redo her make up for an interesting entrance. 
"Carlo Falcone, sorry my wife couldn't c-" he paused watching from the steps of the club, a beautiful woman who looked like a goddess, straight from a movie, "That's your girl?" he nodded over to her.
"Luci aren't cha gonna introduce ya fiance to ya new fri-" Yonah said looking at Carlo, his blue piercing eyes staring her down almost like a piece of steak, 
"Yonnie?" Carlo said taking a seat as Lucifer began to get jealous, 
"Carlo.," Yonah growled at him, The last time she saw him he wasn't exactly on good terms with him, "Ya went from working a club, to owning one huh," he smiled sitting down at the bar. Lucifer grabbed Yonah by the waist her eyes wide, knowing that was a turn-on of hers. "So how long have you two been together?"
"Years.." Lucifer said kissing her forehead, "My sweet little Yonah came to me one night shot 60 of my men down and I was hooked ever since," he laughed as Yonah gave him a giggle, 
"60 men, Yonah you never told me you were such a gunslinger,"
"They don't call me Pink Enchantress for nuthin, isn't that right Lucikins," she placed her hand on his chest as she kissed his ear. "I call her my little Star," he said blushing hard at her, 
"She's my princess.." he laughed.
"But I'm also your queen," sitting on his lap as she kissed him sweetly, "So what about you Carlo, how's your pussycat of a wife,"
"Myra.. she's doing good keeps me up at night, when she's not in Arkham you talk to her lately.." Yonah's palms began to get sweaty as Lucifer held her hand, he knew that topic was a sensitive one, but he didn't think it would hurt her this bad. 
"Haven't talked to her since she married you," Yonah laughed sheepishly, she then looked up at Carlo, "Probably couldn't do ya like I did however.." she mumbled under her breath, "What was that?" Carlo asked watching the couple who he could feel were truly in love, as the night progressed Carlo was drunk and spilling every little fact needed, while Lucifer kept teasing. 
"Not now sweetie, he's confessing," she smirked as Carlo kept talking while Lucifer kept whining like a spoiled brat, "We're just here to raise hell to start a few new rings here and there maybe aside from that drug dens the usual," Carlo said,
"If you don't cut it out, Luci...  I will punish you," she whispered to him.
"But sweetheart I’m impatient, "  he groaned,
"It's almost over," she grumbled, a few hours passed Carlo was gone, and Yonah was upstairs taking the evidence that she had and closing it up safely. sitting in front of the fireplace she took her robe off now covered in pink from her lace corset to her garters, "Lucikins, where are ya," she asked, "I got a surprise for ya.,"
Lucifer walked in breathless at the fact of what he saw, Yonah sitting there almost like a present, he didn't exactly know what to do, until she saw him, "Well if it isn't my Lucikins,"  unbuttoning his shirt she couldn't believe that this was happening, Lucifer melting in her hands like putty,   he wanted her badly to the point he could almost taste it, 
"Doesn't it get tiring asking what others desire," Yonah asked walking behind him, her hands on his waist, "What are your needs, what do you desire truly.." she whispered pulling him down to the bed.
"You.." he mumbled,
"What was that?" she smirked, twirling a pair of handcuffs in her hand, "My sweet baby, that's too vague.." she began to laugh making him shiver, " What is it you truly desire,"
"I want you to make me yours love, tear me apart till I'm a bloody mess!" he grinned leaning closer towards her his eyes filled with a lustful desire, Yonah laughed seeing how he was acting, reaching out for to kiss him, "Aw is my little devil begging? " she pushed him down on his back pinning him down as she latched the cuffs on his wrist, 
"Oh my.. Lucikins don't you look adorable, " pressing kisses down his chest hearing a sharp breath from him, "Well.. we've gotta get rid of these," she began to say as she removed his pants for him, Lucifer was already a blubbering melting mess that Yonah already knew how to control. She knew had bad he wanted her on top of him. As her hands began to roam further down, she couldn't help but torture him just to remind him how big of a brat he was. 
Reaching over the side of the bed she grabbed her riding crop, brushing it up against his skin, "You know what I do with boys like you," she asked tilting his chin to look directly at her as he shook his head,
"Take a guess.." she said as she straddled him, her finger making small circles on the little skin of his wrist. Lucifer whimpered before responding, "You pleasure them?" Yonah laughed at his response, "If they're well behaved.." she said, striking him with the riding crop, "But you Lucikins have been very naughty."  she said kissing him with a fiery passion as she bit his bottom lip sliding her tongue inside his mouth, creating more heat between the two. He loved the way she was denying him what he wanted she was brutal like that, and he didn't mind it one bit, pulling away from him she could tell how aroused he was, but she'd be damned if she stopped with the teasing.
"If you behave then you can touch.." she smirked striking him again, watching him nod in agreeance only made her happy as she unlocked the cuffs from his wrist he couldn't keep his hands off her, untangling the silk bow of her corset he sat there in pleasure watching it fall enchanted by the way she looked like an Angel ready to indulge in the sin that was him. 
"Shall we?" he smirked watching her sink onto him like a queen sitting on her throne, waiting as she adjusted to his size Yonah knew that this was where she belonged being praised as if she ruled hell itself and right now she did, holding onto her shoulder as she threw her head back while she began to ride him, starting off a slow, a few moans and paints began to fill the room,  Lucifer had his hands on her hips as he began to guide her to go faster.
"I think we need some music.," Yonah said panting a bit, as Lucifer nodded, "I couldn't agree more," 
I can be your sugar when you're fiendin' for that sweet spot
Put me in your mouth, baby, and eat it 'til your teeth rot
I can be your cherry, apple, pecan, or your key lime
Baby, I got everything and so much more than she's got
"Harder!" Yonah moaned pulling at those dark locks of his as he penetrated her harder, Yonah knew that when they were both done neither one of them would be walking for a few days, 
"Lucifer!" she moaned louder, collapsing on top of him as Lucifer kissed her hard as he then kissed down her neck his arm around her waist as he was now on top of her.
"You didn't think I would let you have all the fun did you, love, "he asked as he began leaving hickeys  down  her neck stopping at her breast and eventually to her thighs, "Oh darling you're nearly dripping for me," he laughed watching how red she turned as he licked his fingers,
"Cut it out.." she said blushing hard, 
"It's nothing to be ashamed of, you taste delicious... " he said, hearing her moaning his name left him on a high he never wanted to come down from, watching her eyes roll back from every nibble and the swirl of his tongue sent her on another tower of pleasure. 
"Oh, Lucifer!" she growled, arching her back, "More!" 
"I haven't even started the real show yet," he smirked.
Rounds became hours and those hours became a new day, Yonah and Lucifer were snuggled up cuddling next to each other laughing and catching their breaths, "How are ya holding up Mr, Morningstar?" she asked watching Lucifer react to the way her fingers were in his hair. 
"Well, we're eating ice cream and watching cartoons, pretty good, though I must say you.. clearly are a devil tamer." he joked as she kissed his cheek. 
"Even the devil himself can be a brat," she smirked before noticing all the bite marks and bruises she left on him before she sat on his lap leaning back into him giving him a certain look, "It's 5 pm somewhere.." she shrugged taking the ice cream placing it on his neck as she licked off hearing him take another deep breath.
3 notes · View notes
opheliawillowbrook · 5 years
Text
Let the Record Show
A/N: So as stated, this fic has been written to provide closure to the infamous arc brought about in Nightwing #93 in which (if you are unaware-so spoilers!) Nightwing is raped by Tarantula (Catalina) after the death of Blockbuster because, (if you think like Devin Grayson) why the fuck not, right? Thankfully for those of you reading this, I don't. But in any case, my friend (Embrlee Frith) and I have discussed this arc in-depth and thought it (aside from most untactful) very poorly handled. Which is a shame since there really were some good bones to discuss, not just about rape, but also male rape victims in our society and the aftermath that all victims of sexual assault and rape survivors go through. However, as most of you are probably aware, DC and Devin Grayson sorta dropped that ball and refused to pic it back up. Though, to be fair, Ms. Grayson, being, well-Ms. Grayson, did try and clarify the scene by referring to it as "non-consensual sex" which is probably the most accurate example of an oxymoron one can bring to fruition, but that's a subject for another time. But given the sort of "mishandling" of the canon, I was commissioned by our lovely Ms. Frith to cover this subject matter and try and bring some closure to this event for both the reader and the character.
I'd also like to apologize to anyone offended by my words of Ms. Grayson. I'm clearly not a fan of her work (as I'm sure I've made it very clear) I just think as a writer this subject matter deserved far more respect than it got and this is my attempt at providing that.
I Also recently re-edited this story and hope the changes help make it feel finished. Please let me know what you think :) I also found a great song to go along with this fic. It's called "They're Not Horses, They're Dead Unicorns" by Bayside. So if you like a little music with you reading, you might enjoy it!
So if you're still reading this, I'd like to thank you. Let me know what you think and let's see if we can put this ghost to rest now, shall we?
As Always, With Love
-Ophelia
“She was a termite, Eating away at my roots. I was just a lost soul, who needed a home, I was filling, a void, with you.” --Bayside
He sat in a dark corner of the crowded bar at a small table by the foggy window. This was far from how he'd normally spend an evening, but tonight was far from a normal night. It had begun to rain over Gotham, the air thick with its dewy metallic scent. It almost smelled like blood—like her . He looked down at his half empty beer bottle, a little distressed that he was three drinks in, and the edge still wasn't off.
Drinking was always something he'd avoided, something he looked at as unnecessary and otiose, but in the wake of the past year, he'd built something of a tolerance to it. It was all he could do to cope at times. He didn't consider himself an alcoholic; he mostly only had a drink or two, but he still wasn't proud of the fact it was something he required now, that it was the only thing that came close to washing away that bitter taste.
It had been a year since he'd lost everything he'd worked so hard for. A year since he'd lost friends, his city, and the thousands of innocent lives within it. But worst of all, he'd lost a significant piece of himself, and he blamed himself for all of it. All because of one night, one choice and her.
The thought of her was nearly enough to make him sick as he downed a sip of beer to try and flush her foul taste from his mouth. However, the cheap beer and whisky was not enough to drown out the bitterness—that rotten taste he could just never get off his tongue. It was like he'd unknowingly bitten into a spoiled piece of fruit, only to find its sweetness was replaced with decay and maggots. He could still feel the invasive parasites crawl beneath his skin every now and then. At just the right moment, with just the right touch, or the right set of words. The feeling always left him feeling dirty, and no matter how hard he scrubbed or scratched, her touch would never wash off him. He'd wear her mark for the rest of his life.
What was worse was that he'd never told anyone about what had happened to him; he himself had a hard time believing its validity. In his mind, he tried to tell himself that what he thought happened was nothing of the sort. That the trauma of watching a man die was the reason for his physical and mental discord. Or at least that's what she'd told him.
Still, it never mattered how many times he tried to talk himself down, or how many times he tried to tell himself that what happened, hadn't happened at all. He could still never get that bloody taste out his mouth. He could even taste it on the air.
"I would have never pegged you as the drinking alone type," he heard a familiar voice say.
He looked up to find a single blue eye staring down at him, her lily-white hair draped around her black leather jacket.
"Rose," he said in a genuine shock, "what are you doing here? Why aren't you with the Titans ?"
"Yeah, about that," she said, taking a seat next to him, "that wasn't exactly hooking up. So I'm currently between jobs right now."
"Okay," Dick replied perplexed, "then what are you doing here?" he asked, entertaining some guilt that she'd gone out on her own. He was after all her mentor.
She shrugged somberly. "Well, I just found out that the closest thing I had to a best friend died…"
"Eddie…" he said ruefully, recalling that Tim recounted the incident, but he hadn't mentioned that Rose left the team. "I'm sorry."
She gave him a weak smile and stole a sip of his beer. "Don't be. Eddie died a hero, and in my book, he couldn't have gone out like more of a badass." She paused a moment, clearly remembering her friend. If anything, she was sad for herself, but refused to admit it. A lot like him.
"But with that being said," she added, "I'm here to drink my feelings and have a meaningless hook-up… Care to help a girl out, Grayson?"
She smiled at him coyly. He'd like to have thought she was joking, but he knew she wasn't. If Rose Wilson was anything, she was brutally honest, and he respected that.
"I can help you with the first half of your missions of self-destruction, but you're on your own with the latter."
"Eh, it was worth a shot," she shrugged, "but it's your loss."
"Somehow I'll live."
Sadly enough, part of him wanted to take her up on her offer. The idea of losing himself in another for a few hours was a tempting way to momentarily ease him of his current torment. However, he knew once the sheets were dirtied and the sweat was dried, he'd be right back where he began. Rose was also a little too young for him, and he didn't feel like adding statutory to his already stained morality. Though it seemed to be the least of her worries. But if nothing else, she'd make good company for his misery.
He ordered her a drink, mostly because he knew that if he didn't, she'd find someone else who would. And he'd have much rather been the man feeding her alcohol than one of the many seedy low-lives who'd jump at the chance to hinder the autonomy of a pretty 17-year-old girl. Not that Dick worried about Rose's ability to take care of herself. He knew she was more than capable, but if breaking one rule prevented her from making a horrible mistake, then he didn't see the harm in it.
The two sipped their beers and talked about their losses and gains. Though somehow they felt their losses were what made them who they were.
Dick took notice at how much Rose had matured, she'd oddly grown up a lot in the past year. She was still very much the same: Hot-headed and unpredictable, but she'd begun to understand how to use those things to her advantage. Dick couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. At least he'd done something right.
They both finished their drinks, and when Dick glanced up to the bar to get a second round, he froze.
It's never gonna stop...
Rose noticed his sudden shift, his face paused, his eyes staring blankly ahead.
"You okay?"
He snapped out of it and looked at her. "I have to go."
He took out his wallet and threw a couple bills down on the table, hurrying himself to leave. But it was too late, she saw him.
She stood at the bar, waiting for the bartender to fix her drink. She looked like she were dressed for a funeral, as though she were burying her third husband. Her black dress was low, showing off the prominent curves of her breasts, her lips painted red, like they were stained with his blood. But it didn't matter how pretty she looked. For beneath that low black dress and behind that lipstick smile she flashed at him, he could see just how ugly she truly was.
Suddenly it was like the world stopped turning and the ground fell from beneath his feet. He was back in that moment again, like the scar had been ripped open with a dull knife, the blade delving deep into his dignity.
It's never gonna stop...
"Dick?" He could hear Rose's voice, distant, like she were 100 miles away. "Are you okay?"
"I don't know..."
He took off, practically running out the door, pushing past the crowd of people until he was out in the pouring rain. It was as though he couldn't breathe, like his lungs had filled with a toxic smoke, smothering him in with past he just couldn't shake. He could feel the rain hitting his face, a sensation he'd once found clean and refreshing, only now it felt like an affliction, like a cancer burning into his skin. Convicting him with the sins he'd committed, and the ones committed against him.
Rose had immediately run after him, knowing something was deeply wrong.
"Dick! Dick, wait!" Rose called, her platinum hair looking grey beneath the foggy rain. "Are you okay—what happened?"
He didn't stop, he just kept moving, not sure what to say. "I just need to go home, Rose."
It was a terrible excuse, but it was the best he could come up with. Plus, what could he really say? He couldn't even admit the truth to himself, never mind a teenage girl who held him in such high standing.
"It's okay, you can tell me," she urged, but he still wouldn't stop. "It was that girl, wasn't it?"
He stopped. The rain beating down on him like it had in that very night a your ago.
"She did something to you, didn't she?"
He turned, at a loss, not even sure what to say, but before he could speak, he saw her again.
She'd stepped out of the bar, just under the overhang, looking out at him through falling sky. He stared at her for a minute, part of him wanting to show her how badly he hurt. How deeply that scar through his heart ran. But another part of him was still too afraid to even look her in the eye. For a moment he thought she'd try and approach him, but she didn't, and at first, he couldn't understand why. Then it hit him. And no, it had nothing to do with melting Wicked Witch of the West style.
Rose...
She had now locked her eyes on the woman beneath the overhang, keeping herself from the damp air.
Dick wasn't sure what would come next. Part of him wondered if Rose would, well, pull a Rose and throw a right hook across Catalina's face. Or if Catalina would say something in an attempt to dismiss the younger girl. Something he knew wouldn't go over well.
However, Rose surprised him. She turned her scowling face away from the woman in black and walked toward Dick.
"Come on," she said over the percussion of rain. "This place will let anyone in, we're better off at your place."
The whole speech was a jab at Catalina. She didn't need her mentor to tell her anything, she already knew. Like she could smell that primal fear radiating off him, or possibly even something about the way that woman looked at him. Her smile gilded with something predatory, hungry for self-satisfaction and the taste of blood on her tongue.
Rose took him by the arm and led him away, the rain still pouring down around them. It's humid smell rising from the flooded pavement beneath his feet. Dick could still feel her eyes on him, a feeling of shame ricocheting down his spine as he was whisked away by his own protégé, the old one merely watching as she did so. He'd faced murderous mad men, violent Metahumans, and bloodthirsty demons, but somehow, a simple human woman was the greatest monster he'd ever faced. A woman he could have easily overpowered, yet somehow couldn't. The thought left a deep wound in his masculinity, like he failed as a man, like maybe he'd let it happen. These poisonous thoughts were something he'd become accustomed to ever since Catalina had taken matters into her own hands.
By the time they made it back to Dick's apartment, they were both soaked to the bone. He could feel the filthy rain collecting along his jaw and dripping heavily from his chin as he unlocked the door. Rose noticed his hands were shaking and he cursed at himself as he struggled to steady them. He finally got the key into the lock and turned it, looking around before entering the safety of his home. They entered the reasonably sized studio apartment, and Dick flicked on the light. He closed the door behind them, locking the knob, deadbolt, and key chain. Rose, of course, thought it was a bit overkill, but given his reaction to the woman at the bar, she'd have done the same thing.
"She's really got you on edge," Rose said, pulling off her soggy coat. "Who is she?"
"No one."
"Well, then she's a whole lot of no one ." Rose grimaced. "I'm sensing "They're Not Horses, They're dead Unicorns," vibe?"
"Something like that…" he sighed, wiping the rain from his brow, "only in the darkest context possible."
"What do you think she wants?"
He looked up at her. He hadn't really thought of that. It had been a year since he'd seen her last, since he just walked away and never looked back. She got what she wanted, why would she come back now?
"Fuck," he huffed blankly and sat down. His mind digging up an old thought he'd once had, one he prayed wouldn't come to fruition.
Rose could see the lost look in his eyes and the disparity quaking in the space where his heart used to be. This was nothing new to her. Whatever he lost, he'd lost it before they'd met. Only now she was beginning to understand what that was. She could now see just where that jaded and cynical nature came from, exactly what cracks left him shattered. Unlike many, she was actually about to see exactly what slipped through those cracks, exactly what had been taken away from him.
"I take it whatever she did to you, you're not over it?"
He looked at her with an ill expression and ran his hand through the fringe of his damp hair. "I don't know if I'll ever be over it," he said ruefully. That was the closest he'd ever come to admitting it, to saying it aloud.
Rose looked down, that was all she needed to hear. He didn't need to say more.
"I'm sorry that happened to you."
He glanced up at her and smiled at a loss, but also for the fact that she didn't laugh at him, that she didn't seem to judge him for it. "I just don't know what I'm supposed to do," he admitted. "Some days I can live it, then come days like this, where I can barely get my shit together."
She could understand that feeling, knowing how it felt to want to shed the scars that bind you, only you can't help but be who they've made you.
"You can talk about it if you want."
"Thanks," he said, and smiled falsely, "but talking about it is something I'm still not quite able to do." He took a deep breath and looked down at his hands, like it were they that had betrayed him. "I just don't understand it completely. And honestly, I just wanna forget it ever happened."
"But your body won't let you."
He nodded painfully, almost feeling like he had to vomit. He had to change the subject. "Sorry I ruined your night."
Rose smiled and shrugged nonchalantly. "No big deal, you probably saved me from making a poor life choice."
"That's probably true," he conceded with a nod.
"Yeah, seriously. Once my brain tastes alcohol it's like it's go time! Let's make some fucking mistakes! And see how quickly you can ruin the life you work so hard for..." she broke into a slight giggle. Rose was often amused with her on sense of humor.
Dick shook his head, well aware that Rose Wilson and alcohol were not meant to be in good company with each other. That girl could do a whole lot of damage and end up with one hell of a hangover. But he laughed anyway.
"But hey, now I can technically say I went home with Nightwing. I got braggin' rights now."
He shook his head at her shit-eating grin, realizing she'd probably use that to piss off daddy . It would also do little for either of their dwindling reputations, but he had bigger problems to worry about.
"I know you don't wanna talk about it, but I get the feeling you think she found you," Rose said. "Is she capable of that?"
Unfortunately enough, she was. She was an ex-FBI agent, after all. She probably knew exactly where he was this entire time and he never even thought to look behind him. But truth be told, he didn't want to know. It was easier if he didn't go looking for her in every shadow that haunted every corner.
"Yeah."
"Do you think she's been following you?"
He didn't want to think of that either, but he wouldn't put it past her. "Yeah, and it wouldn't be the first time."
"Jesus." Rose scowled. "When was the last time you saw her?"
"A year ago."
"So what's she doing, slinking up from Hell for some fresh air, thinking she'd just drop by, say hello?"
Dick grimaced. "I'm honestly really afraid to find out…" The look on his face hardened, consequence tying his tongue.
"Oh…" She paused a minute, thinking about how devastating that would be. To have something so heavy thrust upon you; forever tied to the person who'd already taken so much. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, and I really hate to say this, but there's no way she'd look like that if she'd dropped a fucking kid like three months ago."
Dick looked up at her. Only Rose would say something like that.
"I mean her tits would be like on the floor," she added crassly. "She could take a fucking eye out with those puppies, and I should know."
He glared at her, not sure whether to scowl or laugh. On one hand, her banter was oddly amusing, and on the other, he had a really hard time accepting humor in that moment. But maybe that was his problem.
"Rose, I know you're just trying to help, but if you could stop talking about how hot Catalina is, that would be great."
"Hey, I never said that walking gash was hot, I just said her fucking boobs could have their own gravitational pull," she corrected. "Life's not fucking fair, man," she added referring to her own humble cup size.
"Yeah, it's not," Dick accorded coldly, and he couldn't have agreed more.
His life had literally become one horrible montage of one bad thing after the next, and it all started the second she showed up. In the beginning, he actually felt guilty for feeling that way, like it was somehow unfair of him to blame her for things that came of his own volition. But with time, it simply just became part of his coping mechanism. Catalina equaled death, devastation and rape, and he just couldn't see past that. He liked to think if he'd just never met her, or if he'd just thrown her ass in jail when he had the chance, that everything would be different. Maybe nobody would have died, and that Blüdhaven would still be standing today.
What was worse, and the thing that ate at him the most, was that he'd willingly invited her into his life. He'd delivered himself like some naive lamb to slaughter because he'd actually once felt sorry for her. That's what it had always come down to. She had a shitty life, it wasn't her fault. If he had just been a better man, or a better mentor , she wouldn't have turned out like that. It didn't seem to matter that she was a grown woman and should have known better, he still made excuses for her. But now, he couldn't excuse that she was stained in his blood and the blood of others, and he couldn't do shit about it. Catalina was literally like a flesh-eating bacteria to him. A termite eating away at his body and soul.
"You've never actually confronted her, have you?" Rose asked, once again pulling him into the now.
He sighed and shook his head. "Not really—no. There was so much going on after it happened and I was still kinda in shock. She told me I wasn't thinking straight and that the trauma I'd experienced made me look at it that way. I believed her because I wanted to, but as the shock wore off and I began to see how far she'd burrowed into my life… I knew I was right."
He seethed a moment, that foul metallic taste overcoming his mouth.
"She was literally taking over my life, acting like she'd done nothing wrong—acting like she belonged with me. I couldn't take it, so I left."
"That's when you started mentoring me…" Rose said, having a rough idea of the timeline.
Dick looked up, it really was ironic. He'd been so badly burned by one protégé, and the other was the only thing keeping him from crawling out of skin.
"Yeah, you turned out fine, though."
"Yeah, because of you," Rose urged. She owed him everything. Without Dick Grayson, who knew where she'd be. "Without you, I could never be a hero."
He looked at her fondly, but he knew she didn't feel like one. He didn't feel like one either.
"Y'know," Rose began, "sometimes you gotta take your pound of flesh and just walk away."
"I'm really not one for revenge, Rose."
"I saw the way you looked at her, Dick," she said, sitting next to him, "like if you could kill her and get away with it, you would."
He didn't say anything, but that was exactly how he felt, only he knew it wouldn't change anything. It wouldn't fix him.
He rose from the couch and walked to a drawer, he opened it and took out an old shirt, throwing it over to Rose.
"You should change out of those wet clothes. There's a laundry room downstairs if you wanna throw your stuff in the drier."
She caught the shirt and nodded. "Yeah, there's no way in Hell I'm leaving you alone tonight. Not with Psycho Bitch on the prowl."
He smiled. "Wanna order a pizza?"
"You paying?"
After that, the two talked about why Rose left the Titans, and why she felt she didn't really fit there. They talked about Eddie, and how Rose had asked him to leave with her. That was a little painful.
Rose asked how things with Barbara were going (they were supposed to get married, after all.) However, the answer was nowhere. Apparently Dick was having a hard time functioning in the relationship, specifically because Barbara was always so micro-focused on everything he did. From what she understood, that was nothing new. Barbara had a reputation for being a little unforgiving, especially when it came to Dick. And Rose could totally understand why he didn't feel comfortable opening up to her about what he'd been through. He wanted her to see him as strong and competent. He'd probably feared she'd think he were exaggerating, or scold him for being too trusting with Catalina in the first place. And though his fears weren't necessarily warranted, she understood why he felt that way. Nobody wants the love of their life to see them as damaged.
He apparently tried his hand at a few other relationships, but nothing really seemed to fit. Everything just seemed uncomfortable, and in some cases, much like with Barb, they just didn't have the patience for his newfound affliction. It's like everything just felt so disconnected.
His concept of touch was altered, and not the violent sort, the intimate kind. Little gestures made his stomach sink, especially if he wasn't expecting them. There were times when a woman he was deathly attracted to would lean in, and he'd pull away without a second thought. It had just become instinct. Even something as simple and comforting as a hug had become a perversion of itself. He hated how things of such simple kindness now held such rue and disdain. Things that once breathed of love and strength were now among the things he feared most. It was like the ties to his humanity were cut clean from his bones.
Dick looked at the time to find the hour was far beyond late, and he was beginning to feel it as well.
"I think I'm gonna turn in," he said. "You can take the bed."
Rose shook her head. "No, I'm good with the couch. Unless, you wanna share the bed with me," she said with a sly grin.
"No offense," Dick said, and smiled, "but I'd rather take the couch. Nice try, though."
"What can I say, I'm not a quitter."
"And I admire that, but you're off-limits."
She smirked at him, as if his comment gave her some vague validation. "Yeah, but if you change your mind, the offer's still on the table," she added mischievously. "But for real, I'll take the couch. You're much taller than me, it's not really fair to make you sleep on it."
"You're not making me, I'm offering."
"And much like my offer, I'm not taking yours."
"Okay, then," Dick said, picking up a pillow. "Oh, and Rose…"
She turned and looked over at him questionably.
"If you pull that shit you pulled on Tim, I'm gonna kick your ass."
He threw the pillow at her and she smiled, actually looking a little embarrassed.
"Um, I plead the fifth," she replied, catching it. "But, I will say that I was absolutely shit-canned that night and my crowning achievement of the evening was that I didn't die."
"Sounds like you made some fucking mistakes."
"Oh, you know it."
"Night, Rose," he said, crawling into bed.
"Night, Deathwing."
He rolled his eyes. "I hate that name."
"I know."
He didn't get much sleep that night. For even in the still silence, his brain would not shut off. His body desperately ached to shut itself off, but this primal force would not allow it. He lay in bed, just staring at the ceiling, shuffling through the thoughts and fears. Counting the losses, wondering if there was anything gained through any of it, but he just couldn't seem to find anything.
Rose was fast asleep, curled up in a ball on the couch. He took a deep breath, both out of loss and boredom.
He couldn't help but wonder where she was then, where'd she'd been. If she'd been there this entire time, and he just hadn't seen her until now. What did that say if she had?
He finally found the word that he'd been searching for. The word that best described the vile taste in his mouth. The one that brought validation to the feeling he'd been struck with when he'd noticed her dressed all in black.
"Violated," he whispered into the darkness. That's how he felt—how he'd felt ever since the moment she'd touched him. Everything she'd done after that, and even before, was a violation of his life, his morality, his body and above all—his sanity.
He wondered if she'd even seen it that way. If there was one thing wrong with Catalina, it was her moral compass, but he couldn't see that as an excuse any longer. He couldn't accept that she just didn't know any better. If anything, that made it worse.
When the morning finally came, Dick had managed to snag a few meager hours of sleep, but it was better than nothing. He got up, showered, and made some coffee, the smell rousing Rose from what he could only describe as a near coma.
Lucky little bitch.
She stretched out on the couch like a lazy house cat who wanted her belly rubbed, but she wasn't so lucky.
"It lives," Dick said, bringing her a cup of much-needed coffee.
She smiled tiredly, sleep fresh in her eye. "Yeah, there were a few hours there where my soul was like, I should probably go …"
"Well, then consider this coffee the rejection notice to your DNR."
She took the mug and thanked him, taking a generous sip.
"So where you off to from here?" he asked, heading back behind the counter.
She shrugged. "Not sure yet. I'll probably just wander around until something sticks."
"And what if it doesn't?"
"Then I'll revise the game plan," she replied flatly. "Or maybe retire to Florida and die."
"You're kinda young for that," he laughed.
"When has age ever stopped me?"
He raised a brow. "Good point."
"What about you?" she asked. "What's next for Nightwing? "
"Breakfast." He took a carton of eggs from the fridge and a package of bacon. "You like bacon, right?"
"Uh, yeah," she replied, stretching again. "Anyone who doesn't can't be trusted."
"That's what I like to hear. Eggs scrambled?"
"Sure," she laughed, rising from the couch and leaning against the counter.
He noticed the shit eating grin on her face, he had to ask. "What's so funny?"
"Um, I'm wearing your T-shirt and you're making me breakfast, and the best part is, I didn't even have to blow you."
God, she has no filter, he thought. If that was her way of flirting, then at least one would always know where they stood with her.
"Well, I hate to ruin your little school girl fantasy, but would you mind beating the eggs?" he said, handing her a bowl and a whisk.
She smirked and opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off at the pass. "And do not say what I know you're about to say."
"Oh you're no fun—I'm only kidding."
He laughed. "Rose, we both know you're not kidding."
She smiled coyly. "Guilty, but what do you want from me? At least I'm fun—unlike Kara. Now that girl's got a serious problem. You should see her Pinterest page. It's fucking creepy, and so is Cassie's…"
"I don't even understand what Pinterest is."
"Keep it that way, I wish I had. Girls get uber creepy on Pinterest." Rose paused a moment. "Speaking of creepy. I can only imagine what Cuntberry's Pinterest page looks like."
"Now I'm really happy I don't know what Pinterest is."
They went on to make breakfast and eat, continuing their banter, going on about old teammates and who was where. Dick offered to clean up while Rose took a shower, not that she needed an excuse to skip out on the cleanup. When she was done, she got dressed and ready to head out.
"You need anything," he asked, walking her out of the building, "like money or—"
"Thanks," she said, cutting him off, "but I'm good. Plus with a face like this, free alcohol won't be in short supply."
"I meant like... for food and a place to stay." He scowled playfully.
"I'm fine, my mom left me some money. So I'll be good until I figure out what the hell I'm doing."
"Well, I think you should go back to school."
"I have my GED, that's fine."
"A degree would better," he replied, pushing the door open. "You're a smart girl, it would be a shame to waste that."
"That coming from the boy who dropped out of Hudson University ... and became a cop."
"Hey, I got great benefits with that job."
"Yeah, 'cause being a trust fund brat doesn't pay, right?"
He pushed her playfully, and she punched his arm. "Ah," he whimpered, forgetting how strong she was. "So violent."
"Like you can't take it," she said, stepping out on the sidewalk. "So I guess this is me…"
He shrugged looking back at her and stepped out the door. "So where you staying?"
"Shitty motel, other side of town."
"Sounds swanky."
"It's kinda charming… if you like crime scene tape, the smell of burnt cigarette ash and a gratuitous amount of prostitution."
"Sounds a lot like your childhood."
She burst out laughing as if she didn't laugh she'd cry. "Sadly true. Lord only knows the damage I've suffered at the hands of my parents."
He smiled, reaching into his pocket, and took something out. "Here," he said, holding a pre-pay phone. "My number's already programmed in it. If you need anything, let me know."
She smiled gratefully and took the device. "Does that also include—" she began mischievously, until Dick stopped her.
"3am booty calls—no."
"Damn," she sighed. "Worth a shot though. And thank you… for putting up with me and my nonsense."
"Well, your nonsense actually helped me get through a pretty tough night so… thank you."
"Well, if you need anything, I'll probably be around later."
"I'll keep that in mind." He smiled.
She began to turn, but stopped and turned back to him. "Y'know how you're always telling me to not be so hard on myself and that I shouldn't be dwelling on the past because I can't change it and all that shit?"
He shrugged. "Yeah, vaguely."
"You should do the same," she replied. "You can't change what happened, but you can be stronger for it."
He looked at her a moment. She may not have been without her faults, but she really did possess a heart of gold. And he couldn't have been prouder of her.
He pulled her into a hug, slightly taking the girl by surprise, but she quickly relaxed into it.
"Thank you," he whispered. "It's nice to know I did something right."
She smiled against his shoulder. "You saw the good in me when I couldn't, I thought you deserved the same," she said, then finally pulled away. "Well this has officially gotten far too sappy for my liking. I'm off like a prom dress, Grayson."
"Bye, Rose!" He waved. "And be good!"
A smug expression fixed on her face. "I can make no such promise," she droned, "but for you, I'll try…"
He watched her leave, hoping she too, would find her place in the world. It would be a shame if she didn't. When she was gone, he turned to go back upstairs when a thought crossed his mind. A thought that raised the hair on the back of his neck. He looked around, it was like he could feel her , like he knew she was there, but he just couldn't see her.
I'm just being paranoid, he thought. I need to stop thinking about this.
He grudgingly shook off the feeling and headed back into his building. When he reached his apartment, he dug into his pocket, and his heart dropped.
"Damn it," he hissed, realizing he'd misplaced his key.
It wasn't really that big of a deal, he was more than capable of breaking into his own apartment. He just didn't really feel like doing it. He looked around, and noticed an old bobby pin lying on the floor, not far from where he stood.
"Perfect."
He picked up the pin and bent it back, he'd have the lock picked in no time. He placed his hand on the knob and inserted the pin, but before he could go to work on the lock, he realized the door was unlocked.
He froze. "No, it can't be…"
He turned the knob with an unsteady hand and slowly pushed the door open. He peeked his head in, looking around to see if anyone was there. He finally found the nerve to step inside. Part of him actually contemplating calling Rose and asking her to come back.
Fucking man up, Grayson , he thought, silently scolding himself, especially since a year prior this would have been nothing to him.
He looked around, nothing seemed to have been touched or out of place, everything was just the way he'd left it… except for one thing.
His eyes fell on his pillow; there was something lying there, something that just didn't belong. He approached his bed, slowly, readying himself for anything that came his way in that moment. Deep down, he hoped he was just over-exaggerating, that maybe Rose had left it there for him. But any hope of that was dashed when he peered down at the envelope and saw her handwriting, scratched across the white paper in red.
Mi Amor, it read as he picked it up, a vile mix of anger, fear, disgust and bitterness pressing into his flesh as he held it.
She was here…
His knees buckled and he collapsed, too overcome by the thought that she'd been in his home. That she could, and did, actually take that security away from him. How could she? Did she actually think this tactic was romantic? Or was this simply just a power play? How long had she been waiting for him to leave? She had to have been watching him.
He felt sick and threw the letter down, scrambling for the waste basket, his body violently purging the contents of his stomach. He dry heaved a few times, his breath tight, his heart pounding in his throat. His face was hot, everything was hot.
He tried to focus, and pull himself out his current state of duress. "Think of something else…"
But he couldn't. And the truth was, that was what she wanted. She didn't want any other thought to cross his mind, she wanted that space for herself. She wanted to consume him.
He sat there a while, forgetting about time, his mind just completely racing until it finally grew numb. Everything went numb.
He resented it—feeling like a victim, but he was one, and he hated her for it. He hated how weak he'd become and how easily he crumbled at the mere thought of her. He hated that she'd infiltrated him and festered in his mind. That she was the source of such rotten memories, each one decaying as he slept, the infection spreading through his consciousness and destroying his sanity cell by cell.
He looked down at his hands, flashing back to an image that had burned itself in his mind, one that made him recoil. He could see her face through the billowing shadows and the silver flecks of rain, her eyes cast down on him. Through the still frames, his quaking hand reached up to stop her, but failed to do so, his objection falling on not a deaf ear, but an ignorant one. He felt empty, like he'd died, his heart ceasing to beat, but somehow, left watching from his empty shell. Like a cage with a dead bird inside.
Now, in that very hand, he held the letter, nearly forgetting it was there. He didn't want to open it, he didn't care what she had to say, or how she felt, or how fucking crazy she was. None of that mattered, she'd already taken too much. She could kill him for all he cared, at least then it would be over.
He pulled himself together and tore the envelope open. He took out the piece of fine paper, a faint scent hitting him like a ghost he was far too familiar with. It was her perfume, an odious blend of mahogany and teakwood. It was slightly musky and wreaked of her cruel brand of femininity. The smell was enough to force his flesh to crawl, his hand aching as his eyes flashed with the loathsome image of her shadow in the rain.
He took a heavy breath and unfolded the note, the same red ink staining the purity of the pale page, his stony blue eyes growing grey as the storm rolled in.
To my dearest Amor, Mi Tesoro,
(And if that wasn't enough to induce vomiting...)
It's been far too long, I know. My time away from you has been nothing but agonizing. I tried—I really did—to stay away like you asked of me, but… I just couldn't. And to be honest, if I could find a way to tie you to me so that you'd never leave me again—I would. No one could ever love you the way I do, or as much as I do, Mi Amor.
As for the last time we saw each other, I forgive you. I know you were in a dark place then, and I'm hoping you'll let me help to ease that pain. I would die for you, I hope you know that.
I'm sorry to contact you like this, but I cannot stand the thought of you rejecting me in person—not again. I want to start over with you, I want things to be different between us. Please meet me tonight at the bar. After seeing you last night, I can't wait any longer. I don't know what I'll do if you don't show… Please just give me this one thing.
If for whatever reason you decide not to show, just know I love you with my dying breath, and know I always will…
Todo Mi Amor, Catalina
Her words read like sugar laced with cyanide, delusional and so far removed from the suffering she'd caused. Like she'd come back to rip what was left from his half-empty chest. The letter still hung in his hands, the red ink somehow disturbing to him. Granted, the whole gesture was disturbing to him. She'd violated his privacy, his home, his body, and written down every word of it as though it were love. And maybe it was-the deadly kind .
He looked again at that last line, those deathly sweet words bring him back to one moment.
It's never gonna stop…
And, indeed, it was never going to stop.
He buried his face in his hands, rubbing his eyes, trapped in grief. He just didn't know what to do. He tried running off, he tried sending her away. He'd literally had her locked up and thrown away the key, and still, she somehow managed to slither her way out of that. What could he do now?
He finally removed himself from the floor and made sure every window and door was locked up tight. He immediately ripped off all his clothes and took another shower in a feverish, angry fashion, the water so hot it nearly blistered his skin, and remained that way until it finally ran numbingly cold. But he still felt dirty.
He got out of the shower and looked at his worn face in the mirror. He felt as though he'd aged about a thousand years, yet he was trapped in the body of a twenty-something year-old man. A shell of who he used to be. That foul taste still sour in his mouth, mixing with the sick taste of bile. If only she were like old gum to him, momentarily sweet, but tasteless, something he could spit out and forget. He did his best to brush away the putrid flavor, but like so many nights he'd endured, he just couldn't rid himself of her aftertaste.
He didn't bother getting dressed, he just crawled into bed and lay there, wishing he could sleep, but such a mercy was not granted to him. As the hours passed, he thought about the yesterdays: The long sleepless nights, the following days after Blockbuster's death and what came of it. Each frame passed by him like a fog, like ghosts without names, aimlessly moving through him. Their cold hands removing pieces of him and burying them beneath wilting flowers where they'd lie forgotten, rotting away into nothing.
After a few hours of silently wasting away, he looked at the time. It was a little after 5pm. He was hungry, but he didn't really care, mostly because it didn't matter what he ate, he'd still taste her.
His phone rang, startling him. He missed the days when he wasn't so jumpy. Now if someone so much as touched him, his skin would crawl. He didn't want to bother getting it, but knew if he didn't, it might raise some concerns on the other end. He just hoped it wasn't anything important. Or better yet, he hoped it wasn't her.
"Hello?"
"Hey," he heard Rose say, "whatcha up to?"
Lying in bed contemplating killing myself. "Nothing, thinking about making dinner. You?"
"Eating dinner, and binge-watching Dexter. "
"That sounds… like a weird combo…"
"Yeah, this show makes me hungry, as do most things, really."
Dick shook his head. She really did take after her uncle Wade.
"So did you just call to tell me about how watching a serial killer dismember other serial killers makes you wanna polish off a second plate of ribs, or did you actually need something?"
She giggled a moment, but then got back to the matter at hand. "No, I was calling to see how you were. Y'know, that whole song and dance…"
He smiled vaguely, but felt guilty. He didn't want to lie to her, but that was exactly what he was going to do.
"I'm fine, Rose. You don't need to worry about me," You have enough to worry about…
"You sound a little…" She paused, trying to find a delicate way to put it. "Y'know, like you're thinking of going down the street instead of across it." Well… delicate for her.
He sighed. "It's not like that."
It kind of was.
"Anything I missed?"
He looked down at the letter. "Nope, just still a little shaken from last night, that's all."
"Y'know, if you want me to, I can come over…"
Part of him really wanted the company, but the other part of him didn't want to drag her in any deeper than she was. "I'm fine, Rose. I'm still trying to figure shit out."
"I know," she replied. "I just know how hard it is when the very thing that emptied you is out there and you know it."
She may have been young, but she knew a lot about betrayal, abuse, and heartbreak. Though in Dick's case, heartbreak wasn't at all the right term. It was more like having his heart cut out.
"Do you think if I confronted her," Dick asked cautiously, "it would be a bad idea?"
There was a pause from Rose's end, and he could hear her breath hitch slightly. "No," she finally began, "I think if that's what you need to do, then you should do it." There was conviction in her voice. She understood all too well. "But Dick…"
"Yeah."
"If you do, just know that it will probably end badly. You never really know what you're capable of when someone who's hurt you that deeply is standing right there in front of you… You might not even know what she's capable of."
She wasn't wrong. Dick could think of one particular moment where he'd come dangerously close to bludgeoning Catalina to death. His outburst frightened him. He'd never before been that angry or volatile, and the fact was, in that moment, he wanted kill her.
Maybe I shouldn't go…
"But I understand that maybe you need to face her, let her see what she did to you. Let her know what will happen if she ever tries to do that to you again…"
He took a deep breath, he'd never really gotten the closure he needed. He was too wrapped up in everything else. Not to mention, part of him was still in denial, trying forget it ever happened. But it didn't matter how many times he told himself it was a simple "misunderstanding," or how many times he tried to chalk it up to guilt, it still happened, and it happened to him.
"So what do you have on the agenda tonight?"
He could hear Rose click her tongue, and she replied, "I was gonna polish off a third plate of ribs," she joked, "but if you have a suggestion, I might be down…"
"I was thinking of getting a drink… "
A few more hours had passed. Dick had gotten dressed and finally left his apartment, which took more effort than he liked to admit. However, it helped to know that he wasn't going into this situation blindly or alone.
The rain from the night before had dissipated, the air cool as the wind blew over his shoulder. The street was unusually quiet for once. It was peaceful, but unnerving, much like the past year. Hopefully that meant something—something good.
Each step took a little more persuasion than the last, each muscle recalling the touch of her cold hands, the stink of the rain and emptiness that followed all of it. The only thing that drove him was the notion that this might lead to the end. That whatever followed tonight was for the better. He just hoped, silently prayed it was true.
He finally approached the bar, and that uncomfortable feeling grew tighter in chest. It reminded him of how he felt after he'd lost his parents. The loss and uncertainty colliding together like the harsh winds and rains of a hurricane, leaving a lifetime of devastation in its wake.
He paused when he got to the door. Part of him wanted to turn away and just forget about the whole thing. However, he wasn't sure what would happen in the fallout if he did. He took another deep breath, and pulled the door open. The bar wasn't overly crowded, unlike the night before. The table by the window was open, and he sat himself down like he'd never left. He looked around, trying to get a better sense of his surroundings. Rose was already sitting in the back corner, polishing off what looked like a Mai Ti, the poor guy next to her probably striking out. She glanced over at Dick with a sly grin, and bit into the cherry left in the boozy remnants of her drink.
Yeah, the poor bastard's not getting very far with her.
Dick looked around. Catalina was nowhere to be found, and part of him hoped it would stay that way. But he knew he wouldn't be so lucky, she'd show eventually, and if she didn't, he didn't even want know what would happen then.
A period of ten, then twenty minutes went by. Rose was already finishing her second drink and chewing through her second guy, while Dick hadn't even taken a sip of his beer. He heard the door open and he looked up, a cold wash of fear running straight through his veins. She looked over at him and smiled, disturbingly, as if nothing were amiss. Like she couldn't even see that he was practically crawling out of his skin.
She went straight to the bar, happily flirting with the bartender who remembered her. He fixed her a glass of red wine and poured a few fingers of whisky. The whole time Dick glared at her, noticing her lip color was the same, her frame now covered in a form fitted black coat. He heard his phone vibrate, and quickly checked it.
Rose: Something tells me Tits has your whole funeral planned out on Pinterest.
He shook his head and replied: Seriously, she looks like she's dressed for the occasion too!
"What's so funny?" he heard, and looked up. There she was.
She set down her wine and pulled out her chair, placing the whisky in front of Dick.
"I thought you could use this," she said, pulling off her coat and sitting down.
"I think I'm good," Dick replied, pushing it away. "I remember the last time I accepted a drink from you."
She was still wearing black, this dress being a little different from the last, but cut just as low and shamefully short. Once again, she looked like some rich trophy wife burying the husband she killed.
"So you do blame me for that ?"
"You got me shit-faced and tried to make me marry you," Dick scowled, "how is that not your fault?"
Catalina smiled as if nothing were wrong. "I didn't come here to argue, Mi Amor, I—"
"DON'T, call me that ," Dick snapped angrily.
She glared at him, nearly speechless. "I've always called you that—"
"Well, I don't want you to," Dick growled. "I never did."
"Like I said," Catalina continued cautiously, "I didn't come here to argue, I came here to talk."
"You have five minutes and that's all you're getting from me."
She lifted her wine and fraughtly sipped it. "So I see you're still upset with me."
"You could call it that, yeah."
"I thought giving you time would help, I guess I was wrong." She peered down at the drink she'd bought him, still untouched. "You're really not gonna drink that?"
"No," Dick replied coldly, "I don't want anything from you."
She looked back at him, insulted. "I didn't know what I was doing then, okay? I was just as lost as you were."
"Really, because it felt like you were leading the way. Leading me right off a damn cliff."
"Because you let me," she asserted. "You did the moment you got out of my way."
His stare hardened, and for a moment, he almost saw red. "You bitch," he hissed. "You still want me to believe that it was my fault . You still want me to feel guilty for what you did."
"I did what needed to be done." She lifted her glass again. "I did what you couldn't."
"Because it was wrong. "
"Sometimes a little wrong can serve a great right." She smiled at him, like she didn't feel anything. "I know you have a hard time seeing that, it's why I did what I did. So you didn't have to."
"So what, you want me to thank you?" Dick asked bitterly. "That's what you want, isn't it? Because if I thank you, then I own it, right?"
"No," she replied with a chill, and placed her glass on the table. "I wanna know it was worth it."
"I've given you enough, I'm not giving you that too."
"You really believe that?" she asked, wounded. "You haven't given me nearly what I've given you."
Dick laughed patronizingly. "You're a liar. The only thing you have ever done is take, Catalina. And I don't know what else you want from me, but I have nothing left for you to take."
Her face softened, but he wasn't sure why. "I don't know what you mean… but heartbreak can bring out the ugliness in all of us."
He thought he was going to lose it.
"Heartbreak?" he questioned. "Fucking heartbreak!"
"Keep your voice down, people can hear yo—"
"No, Cat," he declared, leering at her, "you didn't break my heart, you ATE it. That way I could never get it back!"
She grimaced. "I don't understand where this is coming from, Mi Amor. I would never intentionally hurt you like tha—"
His hand fell on the table with a slamming percussion. "Then why did you fucking rape me, Cat?" Dick hissed, so that only Catalina could hear him.
Her brow creased as she leaned in. "What the hell…" She was speechless, a little taken back. "What are you even talking about? I would never do such a thing to you..."
"The rooftop, Cat! What, you don't remember? Was me telling you not to touch me just a minor inconvenient detail to you?"
"We went over this," she reasoned, hushed, "you were in shock, you didn't know what you were saying—"
"Then why the hell would you think it'd be a good idea to fuck me then?"
"There is no need to be vulgar. I—"
"Vulgar," Dick laughed. "I'm sorry my choice of words is making you uncomfortable—I mean you raped me, so I guess I owe you some sense of decency, right?"
"Stop saying that—it didn't happen like that."
"Yes, it did," he insisted. "You fucking raped me and you do it every time you sit there and act as if you're entitled to a part of me—to a part of my life . Or when you act like it's me—like I'm the one with the problem!"
"Because all I've ever done is love you and you've given me nothing!" she spat, her face beaming red.
"So you fucking took it, you bitch," he seethed, his voice poisonous.
"You never appreciated anything I did for you," she hissed. "I almost spent my entire life behind bars for you!"
"For what you did, in my name," Dick corrected. "How the fuck do you think that makes me feel?"
"Loved," she replied with a warning, like it was some end all-be all. "I did it because I love you, because I saw how much you needed me, how much you needed me to do that for you . And you let me. Tell me that isn't love ."
He was honestly frightened. He could see that deep in her eyes she believed what she was saying. That she thought by killing Blockbuster, it would make him love her, but it didn't. It only pushed him away, and she couldn't let go of that.
"You need help."
"I need you," she countered. "I love you more than anything, and I can't live without you ."
"Is that supposed to scare me?" Dick asked. "Because I'm not falling for it, not this time."
"So what? Blockbuster's death is a stain on your conscience, but my life, what—not so much?"
Dick looked away from her, he knew she would probably play this card. The truth was, he would care if she did something to hurt herself, especially to spite him—it terrified him, in fact. But if he played into it, she'd win, and he'd never be free of her.
"No, of course I'd care, but if you really loved me, you wouldn't leave me with that guilt. That would destroy me, and you know that. How is that love?"
He could see her blood practically boiling. He had her cornered logically, she wasn't getting out of this one.
Lucky for her, she didn't have to. The bartender approached them, standing behind Cat and looking at Dick as if he were the bad guy.
"If there's a problem here, I'm gonna have to ask you to leave," he said, obviously addressing Dick.
He looked over to the man, he was just doing what he thought was right, rescuing the damsel. Dick would have done the same if he didn't know any better. But still, it made him sick that everyone would assume she was the victim—that she actually thought and acted like the victim.
Dick pushed out his chair when Catalina turned and raised her hand.
"There's no problem here," she said calmly, "this is just a simple misunderstanding ."
She looked over at Dick, she wanted him to agree. Only he wasn't interested in doing what she wanted—not anymore.
"It's okay," he said, letting his eyes drift down to Catalina, "I was getting ready to leave, anyway."
The Bartender looked over at Dick as though he were one lucky son of a bitch, and smiled at the Catalina. "Well if you need anything, just let me know."
Yeah, wait till she bites your apple, hero, Dick thought a little bitterly as the man walked back over to the bar, his eyes still trained on Dick like a hawk.
Dick began to rise from the table, but the black widow protested. "We're not done here."
Dick looked back at her warningly. "I am."
She sneered from across the table and stood up as if to block his exit.
"Well I'm not."
Dick looked back at her, a little intimidated, not so much for the fact that she was standing in his way, but for the fact that if he even touched her he'd probably get his ass thrown in jail, and she knew that.
He peered over her shoulder to see Rose stand up, ready to kick "Tits" into next Tuesday if need be. Dick looked back at her, visually telling her to stand down. He couldn't allow her to take the fall for him—as much as she wanted to.
Catalina noticed his line of sight and looked behind her, a thick scowl casting over any beauty left on her face. She trained her sight back on Dick, the scowl taking on a mocking expression.
"What? Not man enough to face me without your little pet ? Nice, Dick."
Like she had any right to talk about pride or strength. She didn't know the first thing about being strong or brave. He needed to let her know that.
"You're the one who's jealous of a 17-year-old girl, but if you really must know, she replaced you, and she's ten times the hero you could ever dream of being, Catalina. You'll never be anything to anyone."
Out of anything he said, that seemed to hit her the hardest, but he wasn't sure why. Was it because he'd replaced her, or was it because he valued the replacement more than her? Or was it because he took away her validation as a hero?
She looked down bitterly, and made a fist. "Fine," she growled, "if that's how you feel, fine! But this isn't over…"
He didn't like the way she said that, but regardless, he let her continue.
"…Not by a long shot," she continued harshly. "So when you're done playing with little girls , I'll be waiting."
She leaned in as if she were going to kiss him, his lips hardened and cold, but she only smiled mockingly, hoping whatever stains she'd left on his soul would fester one last time. She placed her fist in his hand, her smirk deepening, feeling him writhe at the contact, but he still held his ground. He felt a small piece of paper fall into his palm and she closed his fist around it, holding her hands around his. He knew she was aware that he could do nothing, that's why she was doing it. He leered at her with a burning hatred, but that was all he could do. For now.
"Until then, Mi Amor."
He watched her walk out the door, the bartender still glaring at him. He wanted him out, and Dick was happy to oblige.
Rose finally moved from her corner, trying to mask the fact she was nervous for him, but covered it smugly.
"Ready to go?" she asked, and he nodded.
Within moments, the two were nearly out the door, but not before one last outburst.
"Wait," the frat boy who'd bought Rose a few drinks said, "you're going home with him? He didn't even buy you a drink!"
Rose looked back at the guy like he were wearing a helmet or something. "Yeah, last time I checked, buying a girl a few drinks was about as binding as a pinky swear. Stop acting like you bought me a lobster."
Dick shrugged at the guy, as did the bartender. Yeah, it sucked, but hey, home girl owed him nothing.
"Ready to go, Rose?"
"Like a prom dress."
And with a roll of the bartender's eye, they left.
They walked outside, the wind blowing a little harsher now. The sky above was clear, the stars managing to shine over the cityscape despite its dull radiance lifting into the air.
Dick admittedly felt a little freer, like some of the weight he'd been shouldering was alleviated, the space in his chest aching less. He'd said everything he needed to say to her, even if she wouldn't own up to any of it. He wasn't stupid, he knew she'd never acknowledge her wrongdoings, but it would have helped if she had. He may have even held some hope for her, but he knew now he should have never placed such a fragile thing in her hands to begin with.
"So was it worth it?" Rose finally asked, uncertainty bleeding from her eye.
Dick took a breath and nodded. "Yeah, I'm not fixed, but I'm better. And that's a good start."
Rose smiled weakly at him, she knew what it was like to feel that way. Just always short of whole.
"Yeah, it gets better with time."
Dick shuddered at the thought. Time was something that had become unbearable to him, to think it could actually help mend his wounds, seemed a little deceptive.
"I hope you're right." He walked over to her and placed his hand on her shoulder blade, guiding her down the street. "Thanks again. I don't know if I could have faced her without someone I trusted to back me up."
Rose smiled coyly. "You trust me?"
"Yeah," Dick said, and looked at her oddly. "I wouldn't have pushed for you to be a Titan if I didn't. What makes you think I don't?"
Her eyes fell on the ground. "Cause no one really does. Eddie did, but he's gone now. You just never really said it, so… I don't know—I guess I wouldn't have blamed you if you didn't…"
He stopped and turned to face her. "Trust is something that you shouldn't have to say out loud, Rose, it's just something you feel. I trust you because at the end of the day you wear your heart on your sleeve and you don't bullshit anyone. I know you think you're not a good person, but you are, and deep down, you just want people to see that. You're a hero because you want to be a better person, and when you help people, you do it because it's right, not because you're looking for a favor, or to be favored."
"That's because you haven't received my bill yet, Grayson. You've racked up quite the tab, too," she joked, trying to get the focus off of her. "I'm kidding, by the way."
"I know. Humor is how you deal with crazy shit, it's that or anger. I'm glad you're turning to the former."
"I learned that from you," she said softly. "I saw how much you were hurting, yet you still found a way to make light of everything. I thought I'd give it a try."
"I'm glad you did."
They reached her Harley and she turned to her mentor with a sentimental half-smile. "Well, it's been real, but like every great adventure, my time here has come to an end."
"Yeah, I'm really gonna miss you. I'm shocked you haven't made a sexual innuendo all night."
"Well, it didn't seem appropriate given the circumstances, but, I found out the age of consent is 16 in the state of New Jersey… So y'know, if you wanna make out with me before I ride off into the horizon, I'd be cool with that."
Dick smiled and shook his head. "I'm aware what the legal age of consent is, and no, no offense."
"You and your morality, Grayson," she said, picking up her helmet. "Maybe I'll have more luck with your brother."
"My brother?"
"You know, the guy with the red helmet, what's his name?"
"Oh… Jason," Dick said, less than enthused, "he comes with a lot of baggage."
"And you don't?"
"Touché."
"Well, I'm gonna head off now," Rose laughed. "No more psycho stalkers, okay?"
"I'll do my best," he said with a smile. "No more letting creepy guys buy you drinks."
"I let you buy me drinks."
He pulled her into a hug and kissed the top of her head. "Please take care of yourself, Rose."
She looked up at him and nodded. "I will, I promise… Deathwing."
"Okay, now get the hell out of my city and stop calling me that."
As he watched her go, he realized he finally understood. Understood why Catalina, a self-centered, ego-driven narcissist wanted to be a hero. It had nothing to do with helping humanity, or even making one life better. She had no need for that, it was all about power. Everything she did, every move she made was self-serving or a display of dominance. Killing Blockbuster, that was simply her playing God, forcing herself on Dick; that was taking what she wanted, but couldn't have, and she'd just reminded him of that. She couldn't leave him until she'd had the last word, till she'd sunk her fangs in him one last time to poison him. She just had to take away his power. Well, not anymore. If she wanted to act like an insect, he'd just have to crush her like one.
She waited, a glass of wine in her hand. She took as sip and looked down at her phone, recollecting the call she'd received. She was a bit shaken when she heard his voice, her heart teetering on its tipping point. He told her he was too rash, that he let his anger get the better of him, but he was ready to talk now. Ready to hear what she had to say. That he couldn't wait. She'd smiled at that, she knew he'd come around, he always did.
Without a second thought, she gave him her address and invited him over, telling him she would make it all better and left him with that.
She took another sip, her anticipation pumping through her veins, the heat of the wine mingling with her blood. She'd been waiting an hour, though it felt like a decade, but that hour was nothing compared to the lifetime she'd spent waiting for him.
A knock rapped at the door, and her heart skipped a beat. Her breath hitched and she placed her glass down on the table and went to the door, taking a moment to check her makeup and fix her dress. She composed herself, taking a moment to quell her near giddiness. She finally opened the door, doing her best to display her most convincing bedroom eyes and found him in their fabled stare.
"Mi Tesoro," she said, sickeningly sweet, "I knew you'd come."
He smiled at her subtly. "You gonna invite me in?"
"Oh, of course, Mi Amor," she said huskily, "you're always welcome."
She shifted out of his way and he stepped inside. He took a quick look around. Her apartment wasn't big, but none of them were in that neighborhood. He should know—it was his neighborhood, after all.
"So tell me, darling," she began, closing the door, the faint click of the lock following, "why the sudden change of heart?"
He looked over at her and shrugged nonchalantly. "You were right, I was just upset. I wasn't being fair to you… I'm sorry ."
She smiled, flashing a hint of victory. "I forgive you," she said, walking toward her prize. "Now why don't you let me heal you, Mi Amor." She placed her hands on his chest, a sinful look in her eye. "I promise, baby, I'm gonna take good care of you now."
He brought his hands to her face and smiled, cradling it as she closed her eyes, leaning in to seal her prey's fate. Only Dick had other plans.
His hand slid to the back of her neck and his face hardened to stone. His grip on her became cold and tight as he suddenly conjured an unnecessary amount of strength. Channeling every ounce of hatred, every violation, and every last bit of fear he held for her. He threw her, face first, into the high table beside them. She collided with the object with a violent force, the tempered glass surface cracking, and her wine glass shattering as it hit the the tile. She collapsed to the floor, blood pouring from her nose and into her mouth. She lifted her head, her body still in shock, as a rough hand tangled itself in her hair and pulled her motionless body around to face him.
He knelt down, hovering over her with an infuriated look in his eyes. She tried to look away from him, but he gripped her jaw and forced her to stare in his direction. She was going to hear this, whether she wanted to or not.
"If you so much as cast a shadow in my fucking direction, I will finish this job," he growled in a low voice. "As far as I'm concerned, you're dead to me, Catalina—and I never wanna see your fucking face again! Got it?!"
She whimpered a little and nodded, but refused to cry in front of him, as though she could keep some sense of dignity if she didn't.
"Bitch," he huffed in her face, a faint spray of saliva hitting her cheek with a hateful breath.
He released her heartlessly and got up, storming out of her apartment as quickly as he'd struck her. She heard the door slam shut, cutting the last tie left between them. She flinched at the sound, like it hurt, and began to cry. She was finally afraid of him; she didn't have any power left to play. She had lost him, for good this time.
Dick threw on his hood, stepping out onto the street and into the cool night air. The wind had subsided and for the first time in a year, he felt his stomach calm. He didn't feel the need to look over his shoulder anymore. The bleeding in his chest had finally quelled.
He couldn't change what had happened to him, and he couldn't change what happened in the wake of it all. But he could change who he became as a result of it all. He knew he wouldn't be cured overnight, but he knew, in time, he'd be fine again. He could move on now. He could finally breach the surface and breathe—he could live. And for that, he could find enough strength to embrace the tomorrows and move out of the yesterdays.
The air somehow smelled sweeter—cleaner, even. Like the smoke had lifted, and the fires burned out, no longer hindering his senses. He could see beyond the rubble to a path beyond the ruins. He took a deep breath, taking the cold air in like it was the first time he'd ever done so.
Clarity, he thought, feeling the ground beneath his feet again, the world indeed still there. He wasn't afraid anymore. He wasn't waiting for some unspeakable thing to pull him into its undertaking. No. For the first time in so long, he was free of her. Free from her hold and presence, and more importantly, free of her memory.
He couldn't taste her anymore.
38 notes · View notes
Text
The Vicious Few. [Nathaniel Barnes x Reader] {4}
Tumblr media
A/N: A while back a lovely person ( @cutebutpsycho83 ) sent me the idea of creating a several part Captain Barnes story based on the idea that he was an undercover cop who hung out at a bar and his partner was a younger girl who worked at the bar. He finds himself drawn to her and ultimately hates himself for it. I’ve switched things up a little in terms of him not really being familiar with Gotham, and he’s been sent there to help bring down a gang. Instead of hanging out at the bar, he’s become the new bar manager (but not really, as it’s his cover.) So, I hope you all enjoy it! Captain Barnes really needs some more love in the reader fic community. PART ONE. PART TWO. PART THREE.
Nate had lain in bed for the best part of an hour just looking at you, upon waking. It was already way past 7pm, and he knew that he should wake you already, but it was almost a sin to wake someone who looked so peaceful and he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Instead, he figured he’d get up and shower, and if the noises of him doing so woke you up, then so be it – at least it wasn’t on purpose.
It didn’t take long for you to wake up. That empty feeling in the bed was ultimately what shook you from your sleep. Sure, you had felt it plenty of times given previous one night stands, but this was different. Those other guys, well, you wanted them to leave, but much to your surprise, when Nate’s absence woke you up, you felt sad. However, it quickly disappeared when the sound of the shower alerted you to the fact that he was still in the apartment.
Sitting upright, you checked to see if you were decent. And, again surprisingly, you were fully clothed, except for shoes and coat. Not that you had doubted his gentlemanliness for a second, no, but it was still a surprise. He was a man after all. With a smile, you swung your legs out of the bed and noticed a fresh glass of water and two paracetamol placed on the bedside table. The man was both a gentleman and a mind reader. You quickly grabbed them and tossed them back, sipping the ice cold water like it was your first taste.
“You’re up!” Nate observed in a cheery tone. Facing him, you half expected to see him in towel, but to your disappointment, he was fully dressed – albeit missing a shirt, and instead wearing just a plain white t-shirt.
“I am,” you croaked, before clearing your throat and taking a bigger drink of the water. “I can’t thank you enough for this morning.”
“You don’t need to thank me-“
“I do,” you replied, your voice finally much clearer now. “I was a drunken mess and you looked after me.”
“It was the least I could do,” he said, his voice soft with a hint of regret.
“I have something to give you in return, though,” you said, standing up and walking over to him. Nate looked a little surprised at first as you stopped in front of him and smiled. He swallowed hard, preparing himself for what you were about to do to him.
“You don’t have to do thi- Oh!” He said, interrupted by you reaching for your coat. You grabbed your phone from the pocket and took a moment, searching for something on it.
“Ok, listen to this,” you informed him, holding the phone speaker upto his ear, and stepping closer to him as you both listened in.
“9 sharp on Friday. We meet the Rats on east, head to the Collective and do what we were put on this fine earth to do, got it? I don’t want you idiots messing this up – Hey! Dollface, why don’t you come and sit here-“ You cut the recording off, before locking your phone and looking to Nate who looked both excited and confused.
“What’s the Collective? And the rats? Another gang?” He asked, his stern face back in play.
“Yeah, The Eastcoast Rats used to be a rival gang, but things got friendly between them, I guess. The Jewel Collective is a fancy jewellery store on the east side of town. My guess is that they are planning a big scale robbery,” you said, before placing your hands on his shoulders and shaking him gently with a smile. “This is it! This is your big promotion!”
“It is, huh?” He replied, looking a little glazed before he fully focused on you with a huge grin. “I can’t believe it!” He cried, grabbing you and spinning around with you in his arms, causing you to chuckle, before be placed you down and let out a sigh. “You’re amazing.”
“I-“  Interrupted by his lips, you hesitated for a moment before closing your eyes and allowing the kiss to take you. Pressing your lips against his, you dropped your phone and wrapped your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss and pulling him closer. Your heart was pounding in your chest as Nate snaked his hands around your back, holding you against him. After a few fleeting seconds, he pulled back and sighed, pressing his forehead to yours.
“I shouldn’t have, I’m sorry,” he whispered, his eyes closed as you pulled back to look at him in disbelief. He opened his eyes and started apologising as you stepped away from him, irritated that he would say such a thing.
“Why?” You asked, folding your arms across your body.
“You’re…you’re my partner. I don’t, I can’t do this with a partner.”
“But I’m not, Nate,” you began, sighing. “Not even a little bit. You’re my boss, sure, but even then you’re not really that either.” Shaking your head, you picked up your phone and grabbed your coat from behind him.
“Please, (Y/N), I’m sorry,” he repeated, following you through his apartment as you found your shoes at the front door and began to put them on. “Look, I have these feelings that even I’m not sure of. They shouldn’t even exist because you’re, well you’re younger than me to start with and I’m just…I’m not someone who could be good for you. I don’t even know what I’m saying.”
“Just stop, Nate.”
“I just don’t want to lose you,” he said, settling on that as you straightened up, pulling your coat on tighter. You looked at him for a moment, a million different responses in your head, but honestly every one of them held the possibility of completely losing him too.
“I’ll see you at work,” you said, settling for the safest response while you could get your head around what had just happened.
Leaving his apartment, you eyed your phone, a couple text messages from Jim Gordon flashing up but you ignored them and headed for home. You needed to be alone and in your own place, before facing Nate again.  
4 notes · View notes
Text
The Bitter Taste of Graveyard Dirt
Wow it has been a long time since I have gone back to this universe. And man did I miss it. 
This fic is dedicated to everyone who has waited patiently for more of this universe, thanks everybody for still believing in me! (If you’re in the mood, prompts are still open right now, so go right on ahead and throw me something if you’ve got an idea for me!) 
Prompt: @oopstheregoesmysoul asked for; “Can you please do your Red Hood Stephanie begrudgingly having to come to terms with Bruce following his return from the dead?”
A Mouth Full of Blood A Soul Full of Sorrow A Face Full of Scars A Different Game ‘verse
Stephanie Brown was a killer, and she wore it like a brand on her face and carried it like a knot in her chest.
Redemption was a bitter word on her tongue. She was not redeemed, she was not forgiven. There was no balancing of the scales. Her sins were too many, the blood on her hands had seeped into her very skin, letting the whole world know what she was and the things she had done.
She was a killer, a monster, a criminal, an outcast, and she knew it. Everyone knew it. She lived on their fringes, avoiding most of them, tolerated only because she set aside her guns and stopped killing at the request of Cassandra Cain and a dead man.
Bruce Wayne had died, and in his own way, that had let her live again.
She spent her days patrolling Gotham and re-learning how not to kill, beating down criminals with her fists and crude weapons, not seeing the attraction of the fancy gadgets the others used, refusing to brand herself with the symbol of the bat again. She coordinated with Oracle, and carried a communicator in her helmet that allowed her to call for back up—or, far more commonly, to be summoned as backup. She avoided Tim Drake and was avoided by Dick Grayson and Jason Todd.
Cass was the only one who sought her out, and in many ways it was a reversal of their youth. Every time she returned to Gotham she showed up on Steph’s doorstep or in Steph’s room, having broken open the window, smiling in that way of hers that was a promise.
It was a promise of change, of hope for the future, a statement that Steph was not as dark and ugly and twisted as she knew herself to be, but Cass refused to believe or acknowledge. Stephanie Brown knew she was unforgivable, was too far gone to be saved, but Cassandra Cain was never one to believe that. She still saw Spoiler and Robin when she looked at the Red Hood, and sometimes it was a heavy burden, but most days it was… inspiring.
It made Steph want to be that again.
Bruce had offered her a way out, when she died. He had offered her a pass, a clean slate, a new life. Far away from Gotham.
But she had stayed. Gotham was in her very bones; this city which she had died for, where she was reborn, was so tangled in her very self that to leave it and never return would be like to cut out a part of her very being.
She had stayed.
She had stayed for her mother, she had stayed for Nell—now her foster daughter thanks to Barbara Gordon’s machinations—she had stayed for Cassandra Cain, and she had stayed to prove Bruce Wayne right when he said he believed that she could do better, be better, that she could still be a hero despite years of death and destruction left behind in her wake.
Bruce Wayne had died, and only then had Stephanie Brown found herself able to forgive him for all that he had done, and what he had failed to do. Only then had she managed to cut through the complicated web of hatred and been able to remember those moments of kindness and affection, to remember that she had once looked up to him and separate that admiration from the bitter taste of graveyard dirt.
So it was unsurprising that when she saw him standing on her doorstep, the entire world stopped spinning on its axis.
Her first thought was a dream, but  she knew better, knew better than maybe anyone that death was not always permanent, and she struggled to breathe, staring at him, standing so innocuously, waiting for her to say something.
“Steph?” Nell called from behind her. “What is it? Who’s at the door?”
There were ashes on Steph’s tongue and fire in her veins. “No one,” she said calmly, knowing her protégé would not be fooled for an instant. “I’m going out.” She stepped into the hallway and walked right past Bruce Wayne, heading for the roof.
“Stephanie,” he said.
“Not here,” she bit out. “Not where she can hear.” There was no scenario that he didn’t know about Nell; didn’t know about Scarlet, the sidekick of a criminal, the girl who would have been Robin. He’d know about Nell’s mother, in the hospital, her bills paid for out of Steph’s own pocket, he’d have seen Nell’s transcripts and paperwork and probably even knew the color of the paint chips she had selected to paint her room.
Fear rose in her throat, suddenly, that he would take Nell, sweep her up into his world the way that he had once swept a little girl with a purple cape, but she reprimanded herself. She had gone in willingly, her heart too large and her fists at the ready, happy to help and wanting to be a part of something.
Nell Little was a part of something already. She had a friend in Damian and a place at Steph’s side, and there was no force in the multiverse that could pry Nell away from Steph, not as long as Nell’s mother remained in the hospital in that deep and dreamless sleep.
She led Bruce up to the rooftops, and turned her face to the sky, where the Batsignal lit up the clouds. She closed her eyes and took a shuddering breath, trying not to feel like it was that night when she had clawed her way through satin and wood and six inches of dirty to finally find fresh air.
There were questions she should ask, apologies she should make, but she said nothing. She just breathed, her chest heaving like she was fresh out of the grave again, with bloody hands and her throat hoarse from screaming, and waited for him to speak.
Steph knew what she was—she was a patchwork of her own mistakes as well as the hurts he had caused. She had taken all of her own pain and lashed outwards; sometimes at the undeserving but just as often at people who had done nothing to earn her ire or her violence. All the codes she had followed while operating as a crime lord, all the rules she had laid down for herself... it changed nothing.
Spoiler and Robin would have not recognized the Red Hood. Or maybe they would. And that thought hurt even more. The idea that everything she was, was hurtling towards this path, that she was born to be a killer. Only with blood on her hands had she gained what she had wanted her whole life; acceptance, respect, a place in the world.
She was the Red Hood. She was Nell's mentor and Cass's best friend and the black sheep of the black sheep of superheroes. She was feared and respected, if not loved or admired. Her killer still roamed Gotham and her name silenced rooms.
But her heart ached the way it always had, looking at Bruce Wayne, and hoping beyond hopes that he could tell how hard she was trying to fix this—herself, her mistakes, the city even. Failing him was still a terrifying thought, a far worse nightmare than coffins and Lazarus Pits could craft.
“You look better,” Bruce finally said, and Steph felt like she was about to be split in two as her old hatred resurged, but so did everything she had felt since they had lost him. How, after all this time, could he still affect her like this? She was no longer a child—she’d had one child of her own, had given it away, and now had another child depending on her, looking up to her—but still he made her this vulnerable, this small.
She looked at him, and saw… Bruce. Comfortable in casual clothing that blended in with the area. He looked the same as he had the last time she had seen him outside of costume.
The last time he had seen her, however, was a whole different story.
She forced herself to speak. “I feel better.” She was still angry, she was still violent, her nightmares were still filled with screams, but there was a peace lodged somewhere in the midst of it all; maybe because of her mother, maybe Nell, maybe Cass, but it was there, and it hung like certainty in the air around her.
They stood there, looking at each other for a long, long time. There was too much to say, and yet not enough words. How could they spill out years of history onto this rooftop? These wounds were ancient; some healed, some scabbed over, others still fresh and infected, but Steph was struck by the irrevocable fear that saying anything at all would only rip it all open again, throw her back to those darkest days, push her back to that person she had been.
You can change, Cass’s voice reiterated in her ear. You have changed.
What did he see when he looked at her? She wondered, as she met his gaze. His own failures?
“I saw the videos of your protégé,” Bruce said, instead of any of the other things she might have expected him to. “She’s very good.”
Pride swelled in Steph’s chest, and she realized what he was trying to do. Common ground, maybe, or even just perhaps sticking to safe topics, never mind that Nell had once been her accomplice, no matter how far Steph had kept her from major criminal activity.
“She is,” Steph said, instead of calling him out on it. The tension hummed in the air, but neither of them acknowledged it—neither of them wanted to. Both of them knew that there were so many ways that this conversation could go, and most of those conversations took them down paths that were littered with even more regrets. There was too much history there, Steph thought. To ask even the most innocuous of her burning questions would only open the door to the rest of it—her death, her killings, her return, the Black Mask. She was sure it was the same for him. They were alike in that, neither of them willing to shatter this moment, to shatter this fragile peace.
Steph wasn’t even sure if the peace that would shatter would be the peace between the two of them on that rooftop, or the peace that Steph had fought so hard to create with the others.
“When did you get back?” Steph asked softly, instead. “I know Tim—he was saying—”
She had ignored him, as she had ignored Tim Drake for so, so long. She had nearly beaten him to death in her own rage, and she had no right to speak to him, and while he felt differently, he avoided her in turn, the two of them staying so far apart, when once they had been so close. The thought burned in her mind.
“Today,” he said, surprising her. “I… I wasn’t sure if you would have stayed. I’m glad you did.”
The acknowledgement of his farewell to her took the breath from her lungs. “Gotham is my home,” she said.
He smiled at her. “I know. It suits us both.”
The comparison of the two of them to him nearly broke her, nearly destroyed every ounce of her self-control. But she did not want to fight, or scream. All she wished to do was cry. She had mourned him, she had buried him, she had gone his funeral and ranted at his tombstone. She had died with his secrets scalding her tongue and belief that he was coming for her in her heart, and she had screamed his name as she had clawed her way out of her own grave. He had not come for her either time.
But he had not known, could not have known, and she’s managed to make her peace with that part.
And he had come this time.
“Suits all of us,” Steph said, avoiding the implications he had made. He can’t ever understand her, not really. She doesn’t want him to. To understand her was to be her, to have murdered her teachers for their numerous crimes, to have emerged from the Lazarus Pit with liquid fire in her blood, to have died with her eyes wide open.
She would not with that on anyone.
“Cassandra is flying in tonight,” he said. “You should come by.”
He won’t ask her to come for him—maybe he knew he had lost that right, to ask her for anything, but she had also lost the right to ask him for anything, so perhaps, in that, they were even.
“I—I’d like that,” she whispered.
I was a child, she didn’t say. I trusted you. She had idealized him, believed in him, trusted him, followed him. And she had died under his care, wearing his uniform, fighting in his name, and they both knew that.
He nodded at her. “Nell is probably worried.”
She wanted to call him out for leaving so soon, but she wanted to escape as much as he did. The weight of it all was too much. She could see the Black Mask’s face every time she closed her eyes, and the questions were fighting her, demanding to be spoken, demanding to be asked.
She would not be the one to break the peace, she thought, biting her tongue. Not tonight. Maybe later.
“She will be,” she said. She walked towards the door back to her apartment. She did not look back, knowing he would already be gone, vanished into the night. But she would see him again later, and she knew she would get her answers eventually.
27 notes · View notes